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            {    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              }
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            {                | U-L-T-R-A |                 }
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            {          http://www.mtcffultra.com           }
 
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                 ][       PART ONE        .|   \.    ][
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                             Episode 88
             Written By : Grayson Towler and Zach Grafton
             MTCFF Ultra Created By : Twoflower


Many people, perhaps even most, didn't believe it was true.  
They read the headlines, saw the images of the smoking ruin 
where the UltraDome had once stood, watched the replays on 
television the following day.  A hoax? A publicity stunt?  The 
newsmen debated, the Internet boards raged with speculation, and 
Tendo Nabiki declined interviews.  

There are always a few people willing to believe any sign of the 
end of the world, to embrace it with fatalistic glee.  But most 
observers were skeptical.  Surely, they reasoned, this was yet 
another in a long string of sensational ploys by MTCFF Ultra to 
bolster its ratings and keep its hungry fans happy.  Certainly, 
there had been other "end of the world" events in Ultra's 
history - the so-called Third Impact, the spectacle that was 
called Heaven vs. Hell - and in retrospect most people had come 
to believe that these apocalyptic extravaganzas had either been 
hugely exaggerated or even entirely faked.  The world, the 
universe, had not really been in danger.

And why would it be any different this time?  Ultra was a show.  
A sports entertainment program.  Sure, the fighting was real, 
unlike wrestling - even the most virulent critics of Ultra 
grudgingly admitted that.  Undoubtedly, it was the highest rated 
and most universally watched program on the airwaves, but it was 
still, in the end, just a show.  The world did not hinge on it.  
It couldn't.  Lives did not depend on the outcome of the 
matches.  They couldn't.  That would simply be insane.

So people told themselves, in the day following the destruction 
of the UltraDome.  Some people, the most avid fans, believed.  
And some people managed to notice that every throw of the I-
Ching that day came up K'an (Danger), or that every Tarot 
reading included the Tower card, and they wondered.  For the 
most part, though, in the day following the destruction of the 
UltraDome, people returned to their routines and marveled at the 
lengths that those crazy Ultra promoters would go to drum up 
ratings.

But that evening, the tickets began to arrive.  

They came in plain white envelopes with neither address nor 
postage, only the name of the person for whom the ticket was 
intended.  They were written in the native tongue of the 
recipient, white letters on an ash-grey slip of glossy 
cardboard.

            +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
                 INVITATION TO WITNESS
             TOURNAMENT AT THE END OF TIME
            +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And everybody got one.

Every person who had ever watched a single episode of Ultra 
received one, along with every person who had never even heard 
of it.  In places where they had no television, the tickets 
arrived.  In places where they had no mail, the tickets arrived.  
Those who could not read simply held the ticket and felt the 
information flood into their minds as they held the paper.  
Fugitives on the run who had spent decades concealing their 
identities got tickets, addressed in the birth names they'd 
abandoned years ago.  They appeared in mail slots, slipped under 
doors, leaning against beds, beside plates at dinner, tucked 
into the hands of coma patients.  Newborn babies, elderly 
invalids on death's door, public figures, lurkers in the 
shadows... they all got tickets.

Everybody got one.  All six billion or so of the people on 
planet Earth.  

To witness the show, each ticket informed its bearer, one would 
have to merely grasp the invitation at the appointed time.  It 
was the privilege and duty of all recipients to witness, the 
tickets said.  Because their lives were at stake, their fates to 
be decided at the Tournament at the End of Time, they would be 
allowed to watch... and to cheer for whomever they chose.  

And people began to believe.  You couldn't touch one of those 
ash-grey tickets, with their stark, bone-white lettering, and 
hold onto your doubt.  

This was no mere publicity stunt.  Life and death would be 
determined by the outcome of these fights.  

The Tournament at the End of Time, the tickets said, but people 
had also begun to call it something else:

Final Ultra.

- - - - -

"It'll be the highest rated show in the history of 
entertainment," Nabiki scowled ruefully.  "It figures, doesn't 
it?"

She stalked around her room in the Tendo household, gathering 
papers and rooting through backup discs.  She had her own 
apartment in Tokyo, an opulent residence befitting her status, 
but she'd never kept anything of importance there.  Odd, she 
thought fleetingly.  The apartment had only been for show.  
She'd assuredly have to give it up now, along with many other 
things.

Her elder sister, former God and the first Ultra champion, stood 
at the doorway to the room and watched Nabiki bustle about.  
"You seem upset," Kasumi observed.

"Upset?" Nabiki's eyebrows shot up, and she regarded her sister 
with a moment of amazed incredulity.  "You have a gift for 
understatement, sis.  Do you know they're starting to call this 
Final Ultra?"

"I'd heard," Kasumi said.  "Isn't that good?"

"No, it's not!" the young CEO of a smoking crater exclaimed.  
"Six billion people watching, and not ONE is paying for it!  No 
commercials, no buy rates, no attendance returns, no NOTHING!" 
She was flustered enough to resort to a double negative.

"You could sell t-shirts," Kasumi suggested helpfully.

Nabiki scowled.  "The biggest Ultra in history, and I'm not 
going to make a single yen."  She ran her fingers through her 
smooth hair.  "It's a joke even to call it 'Ultra.'"

"Why is that?" Kasumi asked curiously.

"Sis," Nabiki informed her, "Xelloss nuked the UltraDome."

"Didn't you have it insured?"

A bitter, mirthless grin crossed the young businesswoman's lips.  
"As much as I could, but the insurance agencies weren't exactly 
chomping at the bit to get my account.  I couldn't get anywhere 
near the full value of the Dome and everything in it.  Damn it!" 
she shook her head in a sharp, angry gesture.  "We were just 
climbing out of the hole after Bison, and now this!"

"What will you do?" Kasumi asked.

"What can I do?" Nabiki spread her hands helplessly.  "It's 
finished. With the insurance and the assets we've got left in 
Ultra's coffers, I might be able to avoid declaring bankruptcy, 
but rebuilding? Restarting?  Forget it.  Show's over."

"I'm sorry," Kasumi said, her voice quiet and grave.  

Nabiki sighed and waved her hand irritably.  "The financial 
fallout can wait.  It's going to be a moot question if I can't 
drum up a 'Prophet of Life' from somewhere.  Xelloss didn't give 
us a whole lot to go on, did he?"

"No," Kasumi agreed somberly.  "He's not very trustworthy."

The young CEO snorted.  "Yes, well, maybe I'll talk to Lina.  
She might be able to figure out what this whole Prophecy 
business is about.  If she tries to milk me for compensation, 
she'll be in for a sorry surprise."

"I'm sure Lina-san will be glad to help," the eldest Tendo girl 
said encouragingly.

"And then we've got to assemble a team."  Nabiki fussed through 
some papers and scowled.  "Crap, Xelloss has a lot of Omega 
fighters in his group.  And Happosai!  I should've throttled him 
in his sleep years ago, the little troll."

"What if Lina can't find a Prophet of Life?" Kasumi asked.

The short-haired businesswoman threw her arms wide.  "The I'LL 
be the goddamned Prophet!  If whoever it is doesn't step the 
hell forward, then SOMEONE is going to have to do it!  At least 
I can assemble a team!  Provided they don't ask for paychecks, 
that is."

Kasumi raised a hand to her mouth to cover a small smile.  "Oh 
my," she said.  "It sounds like you have a lot to do."

"Yeah, yeah," Nabiki grumbled, rifling through a folder.

"And you won't be making any money."

"Believe me, I know that."

"Yet you're certainly willing to give it your all," the eldest 
Tendo sister observed.  

"What else can I do?"

"Without making a single yen, no less." 

A sour look.  "Don't rub it in, okay?"

Nabiki was surprised when Kasumi stepped forward and wrapped her 
arms around her.  Her papers dangled from her hand at her side 
as her older sister hugged her tight, enfolding her in a warm 
cocoon of pure and uncomplicated love.  "I'm very proud of you, 
Nabiki," whispered the former God.  "Do you know that?"

Nabiki, who did not do well at emotional moments, simply blinked 
in surprise and whispered: "Uh... thanks."

Kasumi left her then to her work, returning to the tasks of her 
own.  Nabiki continued to sort through the papers and files in 
her room, but her heart did not feel so heavy, and a little 
smile flickered across her face now and again.  

- - - - -

The problem, as it turned out, was not finding someone who was 
willing to step forth and claim to be the Prophet of Life.  The 
problem was figuring out which one of the "applicants" was the 
real McCoy.  

Tarou had rented Nabiki a small office and boardroom in Tokyo, 
using his own fairly substantial savings acquired from his time 
in her service.  It was a small gesture, really, but one for 
which Nabiki felt profoundly grateful.  The move turned out to 
be very fortuitous, because the CEO of Ultra found herself at 
the center of a publicity storm the likes of which even she had 
never seen.  She would not have wanted to conduct business from 
her home, subjecting her family and her neighbors in Nerima to 
the frantic circus.

She was besieged by Prophets of Life.  They sprouted up like 
mutant weeds from every religion, every ethnic group, every 
crackpot cult from all over the world.  Some were self-declared, 
and some were nominated by fans.  Every fighter in Ultra, 
including those who had joined Xelloss, had rabid fans who were 
declaring their favorite to be the true Prophet of Life.  
Homeless waifs staggered out of the gutters, with messages 
declaring their Prophethood misspelled on dirty cardboard signs.  
Religious factions snarled and raged at one another about which 
faith would produce the true Prophet.  Television talk show 
hosts sold t-shirts to promote themselves as the genuine Prophet 
of Life.  Bombastic radio personalities bleated their cases over 
the airwaves to their drone-like fans.  Billionaires from Texas 
with large ears came forth, saying that the people had mandated 
that they must be the Prophet.  

They swarmed into Tokyo.  They clogged the phone lines.  They 
bombarded her with e-mails.

"How," Nabiki turned to Tarou in confusion as the phone blared 
its shrill song, "am I going to find the real Prophet in all 
this mess?"

- - - - - 

From his own unseen vantage point, Xelloss watched the chaos 
unfold and smiled, and smiled, and smiled.  

- - - - -

Halfway around the world in the Vatican, an Archbishop 
tentatively approached the Pope.  He'd been depressed since the 
last UltraRage, everybody knew, when he and the millions of 
other fans of Mr. Satan had seen their hero declare himself to 
be a selfish, insecure asshole on national television.  But that 
was a far cry from what had happened at ReBoot.  

"Your Holiness," the Archbishop said quietly within the 
candlelit halls of the great Cathedral, "may I speak to you for 
a moment?"

"Of course," the old pontiff replied, gentle sadness in his 
venerable voice.

"It's about this... Prophet of Life business," the Archbishop 
said.  "Many of our scholars think you should step forth and 
take the role."

The Pope looked genuinely surprised.  "Me?"

"Well, Your Holiness, you ARE the world's most prominent Ultra 
fan," the Archbishop explained.  "And you have a great deal of 
credibility and influence.  There are so many other false 
Prophets out there now, someone needs to step forward and bring 
order.  If not you, then perhaps someone you would choose, or 
endorse..."  He trailed off.

The Pope favored him with a tired smile.  "I am not this... 
Prophet of Life," he said softly.  "I would know it if I were."

"But..."

"The true Prophet will step forth and be known when the time is 
right," he said.  "Have faith."

"Time is running out," the Archbishop whispered urgently.  

"I know," the Pope replied.

The Archbishop stood in silence before his pontiff, uncertain of 
what to say next.  He noticed a small picture of Mr. Satan on 
the altar, tucked in next to one of the golden candlesticks.  
The former Earth's Greatest Hero posed with both biceps flexed, 
his afro bathed in the glow of spotlights, a brilliant smile 
beneath his moustache.  

The Pope noticed where his follower's gaze had fallen.  "Yes," 
he said.  "Do you know, I think I have some small idea of how 
our Lord felt when Lucifer betrayed him."

The Archbishop swallowed and nodded.

"He cast down his most beautiful angel," the Pope said quietly.  
"He had no choice.  Yet I do not think He ever, even for a 
moment, stopped loving the fallen."

- - - - -

Three days left before the tournament, and still Nabiki had not 
found a Prophet of Life who suited the role.  The fighters from 
Ultra had come when she called them at least, and they ringed 
her little office to keep the crowds at bay.  The streets were 
full of the raving, the fanatical, and the desperate, but even a 
throng like that found it hard to force their way past the likes 
of Gally and Bean Bandit.  Lei Wulong was in charge of the 
police efforts for crowd control.

Still, every so often a few uninvited guests managed to slip by 
the barricades, and it was left to Tarou to deal with them.

"He's DEAD, you idiots!" Tarou shouted at a small group of 
black-suited, earnest-looking young men as he shoved them rudely 
towards the door.  "For the hundredth time, L. Ron Hubbard CAN'T 
be the Prophet of Life!"

"A technicality!" the leader of the group screeched.  "You're 
just persecuting us!"

"Give it a REST!" Tarou grunted, putting his shoulder into the 
effort of trying to shove the flailing mass of humanity back out 
the office door.

"Okay, how about John Travolta?" another offered.

"NO!" the Chinese fighter snarled, finally shoving them through 
the portal, then slamming the door quickly shut.  "Damn!" he 
gasped.  "How the hell do they keep getting in here?"

"Persistent bunch," Nabiki observed, hammering the much-abused 
Delete key on her laptop as she scanned her e-mail.  There was a 
sizable contingent on the Internet that seemed to want Lain as 
the Prophet of Life, but Nabiki had her doubts.  Lain was a nice 
girl and a computer dynamo, but she was a shrinking violet when 
it came to dealing with other human beings.  That girl, as some 
sort of messiah?  Not likely.  

Something rapped on the door.  Tarou whirled and glared.  "Now 
what?"

"Yoo-hoo!" came a familiar voice from outside.  "I believe I 
have an appointment?"

"Lina!" Nabiki cried with relief, recognizing the voice at once.  
She'd been trying to reach the young sorceress since this mess 
had begun, but Lina Inverse had been infuriatingly out of touch.  
"Let her in, Tarou."

Her assistant did as he was bid, and the young sorcery genius 
entered Nabiki's cluttered domain.  Nabiki was a little 
surprised to see that Inverse had her newest referee in tow, 
Washuu's daughter Mary, but gave it little thought.  

"Where have you been?" she demanded of the red-headed sorceress.  
"I've been trying like crazy to get a hold of you."

"Doing some research," Lina replied, in an enigmatic tone.  

"Well, I need you here," Nabiki informed her.  "We have GOT to 
sort out this business with the Prophet of Life, and we've got 
to do it now.  You're the resident expert on magic here, so I 
think between the two of us we can come up with someone..."

"It's Mary," Lina said simply. 

Nabiki raised an eyebrow.  "Who, her?" she said, gesturing at 
the teenaged girl standing quietly in her striped shirt.  "Hm.  
Hmm.  Interesting idea, Lina.  Yes... I think you're onto 
something.  One of the referees would be a good choice.  But not 
her, of course."

Mary looked startled, and Lina cocked her head.  "Why not?"

"Ifurita might do," Nabiki said, warming to the idea.  "And Son 
Goku might do even better, if I can get a hold of him in time.  
Krillin should know where he is.  Tarou, could you look up 
Krillin's cell phone number?  I need to..."

"I think Mary is the one you want," Lina told her.

Still not responding to the certainty in Lina's voice, Nabiki 
shook her head sharply.  "No, no.  Hardly anybody knows her.  
She's only been with the company for a little while, and she's 
too young!  People won't follow her.  Plus, she's a lousy ref."

Mary didn't want to get sidetracked, but she couldn't contain 
herself at that comment.  "What?  Lousy?" she said, her mouth 
dropping open in disbelief.

"Look, I hired you as a favor to Washuu," Nabiki said, trying to 
be gentle but feeling too harried to soften her words much.  
"And I was thinking of phasing you out in the second half of the 
season.  You've got a nice screen face, but otherwise you're not 
getting the job done.  Weren't," she corrected, realizing that 
Ultra was, for all intents and purposes, past tense.

"How have I been a lousy ref?" Mary demanded, deeply stung.

"You enforce the rules," Nabiki told her succinctly.  "You run 
clean fights."

"What?" the girl gasped.  "What's wrong with..."

Nabiki silenced her with a wave of the hand.  "You fail to grasp 
the purpose of the referee in Ultra.  The refs are there to get 
distracted.  They're there to be ignored.  They're supposed to 
be ineffectual, muddled, and useless, except when they start and 
end the matches.  If the rules are enforced, it's the other 
fighters who come in and make it happen.  Why do you think I 
always hire those pitiful wrecks to wear the stripes?"

"But..." Mary stammered, "but... Ifurita... and Son Goku aren't 
like that!"

"Omega's different," the young CEO clarified.  "The power level 
is so high that sometimes you need someone to keep it from 
getting out of control.  Guys like Sephiroth and the Orochi need 
watching.  I use Krillin for the safer matches, you'll notice.  
He was quite a find, the goofball."

"You hire bad referees... on purpose?" Mary asked, turning this 
over in her mind.  "But I always thought..."

"What, that I'm incompetent?" Nabiki asked, a smile like the 
edge of a well-honed dagger on her lips.  "That I wasn't aware 
that I was hiring myopic, addle-pated losers with the attention 
span of a concussed bee to referee my fights?  That until you 
came along, it simply never occurred to me to run clean matches?  
Is that it?"

"No, I..."

Nabiki didn't really intend to be hostile, but the immense 
stress of being, by default, appointed the gatekeeper who would 
choose the all-important Prophet of Life had served to sharpen 
her tongue.  "Kiddo, you may have watched Ultra every week, but 
it seems you never managed to understand it.  Ultra is a haven 
for cheating, a fertile ground for backstabbing and betrayal.  
That's how the bad guys show they're bad.  And that's how the 
good guys show they're good - if they can win without giving in 
to the temptation to cheat, and if they can pull off a victory 
in SPITE of the fact that their opponent is going to cheat up a 
storm, then they've really achieved something."

'Free will,' thought Mary, dumbstruck.

"Clean matches?" the short-haired Tendo girl snorted.  "Please.  
Nobody wants to see Shingo play rock-paper-scissors with his 
pals out in the ring.  This isn't boxing.  This isn't sumo.  
This is Ultra, little girl, and there's a REASON it's the 
greatest sporting event in history."

And there it was, Mary thought.  'Kiddo' and 'little girl.'  
Lina had warned her that she'd run into this problem if she took 
the responsibility of being the Prophet of Life, and here was 
her first test.  Mary was young and unproven.  She'd told Lina 
that it shouldn't matter - the truth was the truth, no matter 
who spoke it.

Not so, Lina had said.  A battle-hardened general can address 
his troops and rouse them to fight to the death, but a teenaged 
kid with acne on his nose giving the same speech, word for word, 
would meet nothing but jeers and mockery.  What you say means 
less than who you are, Lina had told her, and she would have to 
get used to that idea if she were to get anywhere.  People 
wouldn't trust her unless she proved she was worthy of their 
trust.  

Lina Inverse was young, too, but she was a sorcery genius.  It 
wasn't just about the power she could wield, it was the fact 
that she could master spells in a day that other scholars 
couldn't nail down with a lifetime of study.  That sort of 
attainment in one so young sometimes generated resentment and 
envy, but it also demanded respect.  Lina had faced down gods, 
saved the world, and held the office of Supreme Being.  Nobody 
with any sense thought of her as just a kid.

Tendo Nabiki was the same way, in her own sphere.  When she'd 
first taken the helm of Ultra, most people had assumed that a 
teenaged greenhorn like her would make a shoddy mess of the 
thing.  Nabiki had proved them wrong, demonstrated that in spite 
of her age, she could take command and run the most demanding 
and successful business in the world.  

If Mary had kept her powers, she could have created that sense 
of authority through miracles and wonders.  She could still say 
that she was the Living Godhead, and Lina would back her up, but 
she didn't want to do that.  It would be effectively the same 
thing as using divine power to prove she was right.  She had to 
think of some other way to convince Nabiki that she was the 
right choice.

"No, kid," Nabiki continued, "sorry.  Very kind of you to offer, 
but I think I'm going with Goku, or maybe Ifurita."

"Son Goku," Mary said, trying to keep her voice quiet and calm, 
"would assemble a team of veteran warriors who shared his 
fighting spirit.  Ifurita would analyze the enemy roster and 
choose fighters who would most effectively neutralize the 
opponent's strengths.  And both of them would lose the 
tournament."

Nabiki folded her arms and raised both eyebrows.  "Oh really?  
What makes you so sure?"

"Because that's not what is needed," Mary told her.  "The skills 
and experience of the fighters are not the issue.  Their hearts 
and spirits are."

The young CEO scowled.  "Pop psychology isn't going to win this 
fight, girl..."

"They must represent the people they are defending," Mary 
continued.  "Young and old, virtuous and self-centered, romantic 
and practical.  The fights will take place between individuals, 
but the tournament can only be won by a team."

Nabiki pursed her lips.  "A team."

"Yes," Mary said, keeping her eyes locked on Nabiki's.  "They 
must be greater than the sum of their parts.  They must pull 
together from their diversity and division, and become something 
which can stand against evil."

"I don't know," Nabiki said doubtfully, but her brusque scorn 
had slowly begun to evaporate as Mary spoke.  "I think we should 
just pack the roster with the toughest Omega fighters we can 
find and roll through whatever's in the way."

Mary shook her head.  "No.  Power isn't the issue here.  You're 
thinking along the wrong lines."

"How do you know?"

Lina Inverse stepped in to field the question.  "Think about it.  
Xelloss is no fool.  Why didn't he do what you just suggested?  
Make a team full of powerhouses like Sephiroth and Alberto?"

Nabiki ran her finger under her lips thoughtfully.  It was a 
good question, one she hadn't considered.  Xelloss certainly had 
his share of world-busting dynamos, it was true, but he also had 
types like Mr. Satan and Bulleta, who were ants compared to the 
Omega demigods.  "So you're saying..." 

"That when he went recruiting," Lina picked up, "he wasn't 
looking for a particular power level, but rather a personality 
type... or types.  And that's what our Prophet of Life is going 
to have to do, too."

"Yes," Mary agreed.  "Maybe I was a bad referee, Nabiki-san.  
But I know what is needed for this tournament.  I... I am the 
Prophet of Life."

A long, agonizing silence stretched out as Nabiki pondered the 
girl clad in stripes, her hands folded under her chin.  Outside, 
the throng raved and ranted, while the police and Ultra fighters 
struggled to keep everything under control.  Inside the tiny 
rented office space, the fate of the world hung in the balance.

Finally, Nabiki threw up her hands and looked at Lina.  "If 
you're sure," she said in exasperation, "then fine.  You're the 
expert.  And we're out of time."

Mary let out a huge sigh, only now realizing she had been 
holding her breath the whole time.  It wasn't quite the victory 
she'd hoped for - she suspected that it was more Lina's 
credibility than her own words which had tipped the scales - but 
it would have to do. 

Nabiki turned to Tarou.  "We're getting out of this office," she 
told him.  "No way to get anything done here.  Alert the 
fighters and tell them to convene at the UltraDome... what's 
left of it."  She pivoted to face Mary.  "Can you reach your 
mother?"

"Yes," Mary said.  

"Good.  Tell her to get a portal ready and clear some space for 
visitors in her lab," Nabiki instructed.  "Time to duck out of 
the limelight until the big fight.  I don't want Xelloss 
interfering with what we have to do.  You, Ms. Prophet of Life," 
she pointed a finger at Mary, and the young messiah saw that 
Nabiki's hand was trembling, "have got a team to choose."

"I won't fail you," she said.  She only hoped that she could 
live up to her own promises.

- - - - -

Xelloss watched.  He could have used scrying magic to see what 
he wanted to see, but he had a more interesting, more ironic way 
that he liked better.  The small fleet of UltraPod cameras, 
rescued before the destruction of the UltraDome and now serving 
under his control, flew hither and yon with their cloaking 
devices engaged to find him the images he needed.  He simply 
floated above the earth, the large control console with its 
multiple monitors in front of him, and watched.

He knew he probably should pay more attention to minding the 
troops right now.  He had an UltraPod back at the fortress where 
they were all staying, but that was hardly enough.  Some of his 
recruits were crafty, dangerous sorts, and bore scrutiny.  
Treachery ran in their blood, which of course made them ideal 
for his purposes.  Still, he couldn't afford to have them try to 
betray him before the Tournament was well and truly won.

The fortress he had chosen to house them... he had to smile 
about that.  He hadn't wasted the power to build the castle, 
tucked away in its hellish little pocket dimension.  Why bother?  
There were always demons and warlocks and necromancers building 
sanctums just like it all over the universe, scheming their 
schemes and mustering their legions.  It was much more efficient 
to simply swoop in, knock off the head honcho before he knew 
what hit him, and take the castle for yourself.  You could even 
rent it out to the next would-be conqueror when you were done.

He should be back there, keeping an eye on them, but Xelloss 
couldn't resist coming here to Earth.  The tides of panic and 
desperation which had swept the globe after his announcement at 
the last ReBoot, these were like a flood of ambrosia for a 
Mazoku.  He drank deep as the UltraPods brought him image after 
delightful image of anarchy, chaos, and despair.  

The main monitor, though, was showing him something a bit less 
to his liking.  It seemed that the enemy had begun to act.

Xelloss leaned forward, examining the images and the data 
readouts.  The fighters of Ultra were on the move, finally.  
Nabiki and her crew were leaving the office, and she was 
summoning what staff remained to her.  They seemed to be heading 
towards the remains of the UltraDome.

And was that Lina?  Yes, no mistake.  She'd come back, finally.  
He wondered where she'd been off to.  Tricky Lina, he thought.  
Clever, lucky Lina Inverse.  Always a worthy challenge.

The energy readings on the UltraPod display told him that a 
gateway was forming, one large enough to accommodate the entire 
remaining Ultra roster.  Xelloss let out a small sigh.  They 
would be heading to Washuu's trans-dimensional laboratory, he 
guessed, and there even he couldn't hope to spy on them.   They 
hadn't announced their Prophet of Life yet, but he was willing 
to guess they'd chosen one.  Was it Lina?  He hoped so.  That 
would be quite delightful.

Oh well, he thought resignedly.  That's just about that.  Once 
the Ultra crew had left for Washuu's little sanctuary, he 
wouldn't have any excuse to stay.  Monitoring the movements of 
his enemy was a good rationalization for hanging about Earth and 
taking in the sights and sounds, but when they were gone, he'd 
really have to go back and keep his eye on his own little bunch.  

Still, it would be a few more hours before the Ultra fighters 
all convened and made their exit.  A few more hours to soak it 
all up.  Xelloss turned his attention back to the monitors and 
smiled.

- - - - -

Nobody but Xelloss had met the maker of the fortress which the 
Mazoku had commandeered for the headquarters of his team, but it 
was clear that whoever it had been had possessed a keen sense of 
classical villainous architecture.  The pocket dimension in 
which the citadel resided was a bleak, pitted landscape, grey 
and utterly desolate, punctuated by jetting geysers and rivers 
of lava.  Upon the tallest spire stabbing up from the blighted 
terrain stood a castle which said, in the clearest visual terms, 
that this was a place of evil.

The stone was black.  The towers were tall, thin, and topped 
with sharpened battlements.  The gates were forged of thick, 
dark iron.  The halls were narrow and tall - not a single 
ceiling under thirty feet high in the entire place.  Perilous 
arches, slit windows, and heavy chains could be found wherever 
one looked.  The motif was deadly, yet elegant in a sort of 
gothic way.  It did not have a skull for a main gate, which 
would have been overkill, but otherwise no expense had been 
spared to give the profound impression that a lot of things were 
going on in this castle, and not one of them was in the least 
bit wholesome.

M. Bison thought it hopelessly cliched.  Shockwave Alberto 
rather liked it.  Dark Schneider found it to be adequate.  
Sephiroth, son of Jenova, simply didn't care.

The four of these members of the newly-formed team of the 
Prophet of Destruction stood together upon the highest 
battlement, equilaterally spaced, facing one another.  

M. Bison, who had arranged this meeting, spoke first.  "Xelloss 
should be away for a bit longer, if I'm correct about his 
patterns.  Sephiroth, your consort has taken care of that camera 
pod?"

The One-Winged Angel replied in a voice as smooth as velvet, as 
dark as the heart of the abyss.  "Of course."

"Lord Alberto," Bison turned to address the black-suited 
enforcer of the Magnificent Ten, "you are certain that no other 
surveillance devices have been left to vex us?"

The torchlight flickered off Alberto's mechanical eyepatch, 
which contained a host of phenomenally sophisticated scanning 
devices.  The champion of Big Fire simply let out a little 
chuckle as his answer.

"Dark Schneider," Bison turned at last to the legendary Exploder 
Wizard, who lounged languidly against one of the buttresses and 
sipped red wine from a golden goblet.  "You are confident that 
no magical scrying has been set in place, then?"

"You question my competence, Bison?" the handsome mage 
challenged with a raised eyebrow.  

"Of course not, my friend," the former ShadowLaw warlord said, 
his teeth grinding into his infamous gravel-crushing smile.  
"Merely seeing to the formalities before we begin this meeting.  
We have matters of import to discuss, gentlemen."

Dark Schneider sniffed and allowed himself a slight roll of the 
eyes.  "Matters of import?  You mean the fact that we will 
resolve to unite against Xelloss if he tries to betray us?  I 
would think that was self-evident."

Bison held his grin, though the casual disdain in the man's 
voice brought a tinge of scarlet rage to the corners of his 
vision.  'Remember your position,' he warned himself.  'Things 
have changed for you, and you cannot afford to alienate these 
men.   Not now.'

Indeed, things had changed quite a bit.  His power base, the 
organization of ShadowLaw which he had spent most of his life 
building, had been blasted out from under him.  The arsenal of 
technology, the teams of scientists, the legions of lackeys and 
minions... they were all things of the past.  He was, for the 
moment, on his own.

He was also acutely aware that any one of these three could 
squash him like a bug if they chose.  He still had his 
formidable strength, his battle skill, and his Psycho Power, but 
he knew his limits.  The Psycho Drive which had been built to 
enhance his abilities to god-like levels had been blown to ashes 
and scattered to the wind.  Without it, he was no match for the 
likes of these powerhouses.

Irritating, he thought.  

His only solace was that these men, hopefully, did not know how 
limited he was without the technology of ShadowLaw to back him 
up.  He could not afford to have them think he was weak.  That 
would simply not do at all.

'It will all change,' he assured himself.  If Xelloss could be 
kept in line, if the prize that he had promised could really be 
won (with or without the Mazoku remaining alive to see it, Bison 
thought), then he would have a world of his own.  A ShadowWorld, 
he thought, his grin widening slightly.  A new sanctuary.  A 
power base.  

A starting point.

Bison knew his own black heart well enough to admit that 
rulership was, in the end, not what he really craved.  The 
having was not what satisfied him - it was the taking.  His 
destiny was conquest, ruthless and bloody.  He would rule what 
he had taken, of course, but it would never be enough.  The 
hunger in him could never be satisfied, no matter how large his 
dominion became.

That was fine by him.  He loved the hunger.  He loved to play 
the game of conquest, of crushing foes beneath his heels and 
shattering the defenses of those who would stand against him.  
Only this time, he would play the game on a larger scale.  He 
would not conquer nations, but entire worlds.  Starting from 
ShadowWorld, he would spread his iron fingers out through the 
parallel dimensions which compromised the multiverse, grasping 
for new frontiers to defile, new subjects to enslave.  

He thought he might start with Dark Schneider's world, if the 
mage survived the tournament.  Or perhaps Sephiroth's.  He felt 
he owed both of them a lesson in humility, long overdue.

But that was a dream for the future.  First, they had to take 
care of business with this tournament.  And that meant, at the 
moment, that he had to work with his so-called teammates, not 
against them.  

"Self evident," he said, echoing Dark Schneider's words.  "As 
you say.  Yet we need to plan for the eventualities before us.  
'Dogpile on Xelloss' isn't a particularly refined strategy."

"Battle strategy," noted Alberto, "is not the issue."

"Oh?  Why not?" Bison purred through clenched teeth.

Alberto the Impacter regarded him coolly with his one remaining 
eye.  It might have surprised Bison to learn that Alberto 
thought of him as a complete amateur.  He'd traveled in criminal 
circles all his life, rubbed shoulders with warlords and 
demigods for as long as he could remember.  Big Fire, the 
organization which Alberto served on his own world, made Bison's 
ShadowLaw look like the local Rotary club.  

Alberto knew true leadership when he saw it.  Bison, in his 
estimation, had nothing but the lust for power.  He had no 
vision, no ideals, no real philosophical sophistication.  

Shockwave Alberto did not waste his time thinking about the 
world which had been promised by Xelloss.  A world of his own?  
What would that avail him?  Alberto knew his role in the greater 
scheme of things.  He had no desire to be a ruler.  He was a 
general, a master of the battlefield, a high and trusted 
operative.  He did not long to take his place at the top of the 
ladder.  Service to a true leader, to Big Fire, was enough, so 
long as he kept faith in the ideal world that Big Fire would one 
day create.

Alberto did not care about getting a world of his own, but there 
WAS an opportunity for power here.  He was sure of it.  If he 
could return to his own world, to the Magnificent Ten, with 
enough power to tip the scales in their struggle and defeat 
their foes in Interpol, that would have made his excursion to 
Ultra worth all the effort.  That was what Alberto was hoping to 
achieve.  And if this other world was sacrificed, then what of 
it?  It seemed that destiny was at work here, and the world of 
Ultra was not his home.  If it were doomed to die now, he might 
as well benefit from it.

Bison was right about one thing, at least.  The chief danger was 
that this creature, Xelloss, would betray them.  From what 
Alberto had learned of the Mazoku, their kind existed only to 
destroy, like physical embodiments of chaos and entropy.  Was 
Xelloss the kind to turn on his followers after they had served 
his purpose?  Alberto thought it highly probable.

"Battle strategy is irrelevant," he said, "because we do not 
know the powers this Xelloss possesses.  We cannot plan for 
contingencies in combat if we do not know what our opponent can 
do."

Bison scowled.  "Perhaps..."

Alberto took a puff on his cigar.  "Yet I am confident that 
between us, we can dispatch him.  Each of us is a veteran of 
countless battles.  If it comes to a fight with Xelloss, I 
believe we can rely on our own power and experience to adapt to 
whatever he throws our way."

Dark Schneider raised his glass slightly and nodded.  "Indeed.  
I've been eager to test myself against a powerful Mazoku for 
some time.  It should be entertaining."

"The question is not how to defeat him," Alberto said.  "The 
question is WHEN we should act.  Xelloss is ancient and cunning.  
How do we spot his betrayal before it is too late to act?"

"Ah," the Exploder Wizard hummed.  "A much more prescient 
question.  And I think I have the answer."  

All eyes turned to Dark Schneider, and he smiled.  In spite of 
his youthful good looks, the legendary wizard counted his years 
in centuries.  He was easily older than all three of these 
others combined.  Admittedly, he had to respect their powers 
(though he suspected that Bison was more crippled than he cared 
to reveal), but when it came to experience, he felt they were 
all a bit wet behind the ears to be playing in the big leagues.

Did they believe Xelloss' promise of a world of their own?  He 
could have laughed at the prospect.  Destroy one world and 
create over a score of others to replace it?  That wasn't how it 
worked.  The most fundamental laws of energy and balance denied 
such a possibility.  

And had they even considered what was entailed in creating a 
world out of nothing?  What did they think they would get - a 
flourishing world full of human slaves, a world created out of 
the ether with its own history and culture ready-made?  A world 
made, as it were, retrospectively through time, and then granted 
to them like some glass bauble?  Or perhaps they thought they 
would get a primeval chunk of stone, with the first stirrings of 
life in its slimy pools of primordial soup.  The might have to 
wait quite some time before the ideal world of their dreams grew 
from such a beginning.

Laughable.  Dark Schneider hadn't believed it for an instant.  
And yet he had seen a great opportunity here, a place for danger 
and testing.  He thrived on new challenges and new experiences.  
Here... here was a chance to decide the fate of an entire world.  
He was a sucker for big explosions, after all.

Here was also a chance to test himself against Xelloss.  The 
Mazoku represented a foe worthy of respect, ancient enough to 
make Dark Schneider himself look like a newborn infant.  To face 
him from the other side of the playing field, on the team of the 
Prophet of Life, would have been boringly straightforward.  But 
here, on the team of Destruction, he would have to match both 
his power and his wits against Xelloss to come out as the winner 
of the game.

And if he could finally annihilate that insufferable Dan Hibiki 
once and for all... well, that was icing on the cake.

"I'll tell you how we spot when Xelloss will betray us," he told 
the others as they regarded him with keen curiosity.  "We 
don't."

"What?" Bison snapped.

"Xelloss knows we'd unite against him at the first sign of 
treachery," Dark Schneider said.  "Therefore, there won't BE a 
first sign.  By the time any of us spots what his plan to 
dispose of us will be, we won't have a chance to do a thing 
about it.  It will be too late."

"A rather defeatist attitude," M. Bison said in his granite-slab 
voice.  "I thought you had more mettle than that, sorcerer."

"Hmmph," Schneider insisted.  "Did I say I was giving up?  There 
is another solution.  We take it as a given that Xelloss will 
eventually turn on us..."

"And we turn on him first," Sephiroth finished quietly.  "Betray 
him, before he can betray us.  I see."

Dark Schneider bowed his head ever so slightly towards silver-
haired ex-SOLDIER.  "Precisely."

The Son of Jenova closed his Mako-blue eyes and smiled.  He 
supposed they were right about Xelloss, though he felt it was 
immaterial.  He did not fear the Mazoku, nor did he believe he 
needed allies to destroy him, if it came to that.  

Sephiroth had searched his heart at the prospect of gaining a 
world of his own, and had discovered, to his surprise, that he 
didn't care.  If it happened, it happened.  But it would be a 
hollow world, he knew, an empty place full of false dreams and 
plastic lives.  Xelloss was no Creator, and any world which 
sprung from his hand would be nothing more than a facade.

He wasn't competing in this tournament because of the promise of 
some Mazoku trickster.  He was here because of the Living 
Godhead.  He was here because of Mary.

She had been at the center of his thoughts for a long time now.  
Her decision to give up her powers vexed him mightily, and he 
could not keep his mind from returning to what she had done.  He 
wondered if she could really have done it.  Could she really 
have sealed away her abilities, so she could never reach them 
again?

The child's paradox came to him - "Could God create a rock so 
large that He couldn't lift it?"  Could the Living Godhead 
create a seal so strong that she couldn't break it?

Human minds could not cope with paradox, but Sephiroth's mind 
was not human.  He knew the answer was also a paradox: "Yes and 
no."

Sephiroth thought that Mary had made a grave mistake, and yet as 
the Living Godhead, she should not have been capable of error.  
He thought she was wrong, and yet he had to wonder... was she 
wiser than he knew?  Could such a decision, monstrous as it 
seemed to him, have actually been correct?

There was but one way to find out.  This tournament would be the 
test of her decision.  The team of Destruction would triumph - 
that, he would personally assure.  And then, the real test would 
occur.  Mary would have a choice.  Either she could stand by and 
let her world perish in flame... or she could reclaim her divine 
heritage, break the seal that she had set upon her self, stand 
against the prophecy, and save the world.

Sephiroth very much wanted to see what she would do.  

"Your course commends itself," he told Dark Schneider.  "But for 
one factor.  Whether or not we dispose of Xelloss himself, we 
must see this tournament through to the end."

The ancient mage peered at Sephiroth thoughtfully.  "I see.  
Yes, I can agree on that.  Gentlemen?"

"I concur," Alberto said.

"As do I," M. Bison added, though he disliked having to go along 
with any idea which didn't originate from himself.

"So, we will dispose of Xelloss sometime before the end of the 
tournament," announced Dark Schneider, "and then we will 
continue on to victory, and the fulfillment of the Prophecy of 
Destruction.  We are in agreement."

"Now," Bison rasped.  "Let us decide how we shall destroy our 
so-called leader."

And they continued to speak amongst themselves for a long time.

- - - - -

Getting to the UltraDome was proving to be a much greater 
challenge than Nabiki had expected.

She looked out of the taxi's front windscreen and bit back a 
curse.  The boulevard was packed with teeming throngs of 
humanity, overwhelming the police through sheer numbers and 
frantic energy.  Cars of all sorts sat askew across the asphalt, 
parked haphazardly by the army of reporters, onlookers, and 
would-be Prophets of Life in their haste to get to the center of 
the action.

She, Tendo Nabiki, was that center.  The fighters and staff of 
Ultra attracted attention of their own, but the crushing focus 
of the media and public interest had landed, primarily, on her 
head.  Everybody wanted to know who was going to be the Prophet 
of Life, who was going to defend their lives, and it seemed that 
they had all agreed that Nabiki was the person who would provide 
them with the answers.  

Well, she had chosen a Prophet, but she wasn't interested in 
talking about it to the throng.  Part of that was a pressing 
need for haste, but a larger part was a sense that she'd chosen 
rashly.  Hakubi Mary?  A barely-recognized referee?  Had she 
lost her wits?

Lina had seemed sure.  And there had been something else, a 
memory of a small girl appearing out of nowhere as she was about 
to sign away Ultra - and, assuredly her own life - to the 
grinning pillar of M. Bison.  Mary had grown up a lot since then 
(some sort of space-time distortion, Washuu had explained 
breezily), but she was still the same girl who had saved 
Nabiki's life that day.  

Not a great reason for choosing her as Prophet of Life, Nabiki 
felt, but what else could she do?  

From beside her in the cab, Tarou growled.  "We're never going 
to get through this damned mess."

Nabiki turned her attention back to the problem at hand. She 
should have asked some of her fighters to stay and help clear a 
path.  She hadn't known it was going to be this bad.  She 
scanned around, and finally settled her gaze upon the entrance 
to a towering skyscraper.  

"Can you get us over there?" she asked Tarou, pointing to the 
doors. 

"Sure," the Chinese fighter said.  He didn't ask what she 
intended to do once she got there.  "Stick close behind me, all 
right?"

"Understood."  She shoved a handful of bills towards the cab 
driver, then grabbed her briefcase and laptop.  "Let's go."

The crowd pressed towards them as Tarou opened the cab door, 
microphones bristling from its mass like quills from a 
porcupine, a thousand bulbous, hungry camera lenses glinting in 
the sunlight.  Tarou threw himself forward and applied himself 
like a wedge, shoving the human mass aside as he burrowed a path 
for himself and Nabiki.  Questions and screams of desperation 
hammered them from all sides.

They reached the entrance after what seemed an endless journey 
through reaching arms, grasping hands, and shouting faces.  
Nabiki's clothes were ripped and tattered in places, her hair a 
disheveled mess.  Tarou turned and braced himself against the 
large double-doors, then shouted back to the surprised security 
guards at the information desk.  "Lock this damned door!" he 
commanded.

The guards obeyed.  The throng broke against the building like 
waves against a cliff of stone.  Tarou panted from the exertion.

"They'll force their way through the glass if we wait too long," 
he marveled.  "So what now?"

"The roof," Nabiki told him, fixing her clothes as best she 
could.  She had lost a shoe along the way, and she irritably 
kicked the other one off.  "I'm going to charter a helicopter."

Tarou grinned.  "Good idea."

It was an expenditure she could hardly afford, but in the 
torrent of debt which already faced her, what did it really 
matter?  She walked as quickly as she could across the polished 
tile in her nylons without slipping as Tarou led her towards the 
elevators.  Tendrils of the crowd were already pouring in from 
the other entrances to the building, but they were too late.  
Tarou shoved one eager reporter back out the elevator as the 
doors slid shut.

Nabiki produced her cell phone from her tattered jacket, then 
sorted through a list of numbers to find the charter service. 
Tarou watched her, his brow furrowed in thought.

"All right," the young CEO finally said, after having located 
the number she needed.  "I'll arrange our ride.  What a mess."

"Do you think we'll be coming back here?" Tarou asked.

Nabiki shook her head.  "I doubt it.  Not before the tournament 
ends, one way or another.  There's nothing we can accomplish 
back here anymore."

"I think," Tarou said slowly as the elevator rose, "that someone 
should stay behind to handle the affairs of Ultra back home."

She looked at him with surprise.  "What... you mean YOU want to 
stay?"

"It might be best," he told her.  "I know what needs to be done.  
There's a lot of cleanup and legal matters to deal with, and 
somebody has to..."

"To HELL with that!" Nabiki said, her voice rising.  "I need you 
with me, Tarou!"

He blinked at her.  Her lips were trembling.

The smooth, confident, controlled facade of Tendo Nabiki, 
Ultra's CEO, had faded to a gossamer dream.  The young woman who 
stood before him, her eyes wide and her hair askew, was finally 
showing the cracks in her armor.  The colossal pressure, the 
devastating loss, the monstrous uncertainty - even an ice queen 
like Nabiki couldn't shrug it all off.

"No, you're coming with me," she commanded, her voice shaking as 
she tried to sound crisp and authoritative.  Her hands trembled 
as she stabbed angrily at the cell phone.  "I'm not doing this 
alone, damn it.  The lawyers can handle things back here.  Who 
cares?  I don't.  We're going together."

Tarou listened to her, and a smile crossed his face, 
surprisingly tender.  "I can see this isn't going to work."

"What?" she demanded, her voice sharp and desperate.  "It'll be 
fine!  We..."

"Yes," he said, and he closed his hand over hers, lowering the 
cell phone.  "It will be fine."

"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes wide and searching.  
"I have to... to call a helicopter..."

"No," he told her softly.  "You don't."

"Wh..."

"Do you trust me?"  He gazed into her eyes.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.  

"Good."

The elevator door opened, and they stepped out onto the heliport 
on the roof of the skyscraper roof.  Leading Nabiki by the hand, 
Tarou made his way over to the edge of the roof, where Tokyo 
sprawled below them in a tangled labyrinth of concrete and 
steel.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Better to show than tell," he replied.  "Under the 
circumstances, I think that you're going to have to know, one 
way or another."

"Know what?"

He smiled, and as they stood in the whipping winds high above 
the city, he took her into his arms and held her close.  Her 
heart thundered in her chest, pressed tight against him, and 
without even thinking about it, she returned his embrace, 
wrapping her arms around his back and holding on with all her 
strength.  They stood there for a moment that seemed to last 
forever, and then Tarou leaned back, toppling into empty space, 
into the grasp of the wind.

Nabiki did not scream as they plummeted over the edge of the 
skyscraper.  He would keep her safe, after all.  She trusted 
him.

A surge of brilliant light enfolded them, and she felt Tarou 
change.  

Human skin turned to silver, human eyes turned to luminous orbs, 
human blood turned to living energy.  The crystal that Tarou 
wore beneath his shirt pulsed with ancient, cosmic power.  He 
was the defender from the stars.  He was the Giant of Light.  He 
was Ultraman.

Nabiki smiled, and the pieces fell into place.  'I should have 
guessed,' she told herself.  'Of course.  Of course.'

He did not grow to his superhuman size as he carried her high 
across the city, the power thundering through him as he soared 
above the skyscrapers like a silver and crimson bullet with 
Nabiki clutched in his arms.  For a time, all fear fell away 
from her, all thoughts of the terrible trial that lay before 
them vanished, and her heart surged with the pure joy of fight, 
the pure bliss of being held in his arms.  Part of her wished 
she could simply freeze time and stay like this forever, high in 
the brilliant blue sky, the glittering city laid out beneath 
them as they held one another close.  

But she could see the ruin of the UltraDome rushing towards 
them, and for now, the moment would have to end.

Tarou shifted her to a less intimate position, carrying her 
beside her with one hand around the waist, and descended towards 
the rubble-strewn parking lot.  It seemed that everyone else had 
made it there before them, and the eyes of the remaining members 
of Ultra followed their approach.

Nabiki landed, thanked Ultraman with what she hoped was a 
suitable air of formality, and straightened out her hair as she 
surveyed her troops.  She scanned the faces of the assembled 
fighters, as well as the referees, the announcers, the technical 
crew, Lain, and the members of This Old Dojo.  She tried to do a 
head count, but the world seemed to be spinning slightly.  She 
felt a bit giddy.

"Is everybody here?" she asked to nobody in particular.

"I believe so," offered Yaga, always willing to assume a 
position of authority.  

"Your assistant isn't here," noted Lei Wulong.  It figured, 
Nabiki thought - he was easily the most observant member of 
Ultra.

"Tarou has a few loose ends to take care of," Nabiki informed 
him, hoping her casual tone didn't sound forced.  She quelled an 
impulse to glance at Ultraman.  "He'll be joining us later."

"And what about Kasumi?" Akane asked.

Nabiki stared at her blankly.  "Kasumi?" she asked.

"I just thought... I don't know..." Akane stammered, twiddling 
her fingers.  "Maybe that she..."

Ranma stepped up.  "She's this Prophet of Light, right?  Ain't 
she?"

"Oh," Nabiki said, understanding.  Her elder sister had never 
even occurred to her as a candidate.  She found that highly odd, 
now that she thought about it, but now wasn't the time to ponder 
the matter.  She turned her gaze towards the street beyond.

Crowds had gathered around the police barricade which had been 
erected along the perimeter of the wreckage of the UltraDome, 
and the cameramen of the press had assumed strategic positions.  
Large sound dishes rose up above the heads of the onlookers.

"The Prophet has come forward," Nabiki said, loudly enough to 
make sure the press heard.  They deserved to know that much, at 
least.  "But I'm not talking about it here.  We'll deal with 
this when we get to our new base camp, all right?"

The members of Ultra were as keen to find out the identity of 
this Prophet as anybody, but they all seemed willing to wait a 
little while longer.  Nabiki turned to Mary.  "Inform your 
mother that we're ready.  She can open the gate."

Tendrils of electricity crackled from a point in space, and hot 
ozone filled the air.  Space and time wrenched themselves apart, 
and a shimmering blue portal surged into view, large enough to 
admit even the mighty Gundam DeathScythe and its maintenance 
trucks.  Nabiki ushered her troops through the portal, keeping a 
wary eye on the crowd to make sure that no interlopers tried to 
sneak through.

Her gaze paused only an instant on a cardboard box which stood 
amongst the rubble.  She felt vaguely suspicious for a moment, 
but then dismissed her concerns as unnecessary and thought no 
more about it.  After all, it was just a box - obviously 
harmless.

If she had looked more closely at the innocuous cardboard box, 
she might have noticed that a small silhouette of a rubber duck 
had been drawn near one of the corners.

If she had kept watching the box, she would have noticed rise up 
slightly, shuffle towards the gateway on two pairs of feet, and 
slip through the portal while nobody was looking.

And if she had listened very carefully, she might have heard the 
muffled squeak.

- - - - -

The lights were out when the former Ultra crew arrived in the 
quasi-dimension. Naturally with a group that size, there 
followed a lot of commotion, shouting, and things falling down.

"Sorry about that, everybody." Washuu's voice filled the room 
with the help of a few amplifiers. "The machines were stressed 
out opening a portal that big. Are the trucks in yet?"

"Good to go," called an anonymous voice, presumably one of the 
truck drivers.

"And the giant robot?"

"All set," answered Duo.

"And Yaga's ego?"

"Rrrgh."

"Right," Washuu said with an impish twinkle in her eyes.  She 
scanned the assembled fighters and staff, the remaining members 
of MCTFF Ultra.  "Now, as roomy as my humble digs are here, I 
don't have the space to put you all up.  However, I understand 
there are accommodations at this End of Time place.  So, we're 
going to have a few hours while my gateway charges up, and then 
I'm afraid I'll have to send you on your way."

"Will there be enough room where we're going?" asked Nabiki.

"Plenty," the super-genius said.  "I've sorted it out."

"We have some business to take care of," the CEO of Ultra told 
her host.  "It... probably shouldn't wait.  Do you have a place 
where all the fighters could meet?"

"Why, in fact I do," Washuu informed her, with a special sort of 
'I knew you were going to ask that look' reserved solely for 
mega-geniuses and soothsayers.  "If you'll follow me..."

The fighters split off from the rest of the staff.  The non-
combatants of Ultra felt a bit left out, but it couldn't be 
helped.  Nabiki told them to make sure they were prepared for 
transit and to simply wait.  They didn't need any extra people 
at the meeting that was about to follow.

"Okay then." Washuu flipped a switch. Light spilled over the 
room.
It spilled over every last wooden board, sliding door, futon and 
tranquil pond. Except for the giant control panel, and the fact 
that it was massively larger than the original, they were 
standing in an exact replica of the Tendo household. Complete 
with its own Kasumi.

"Hello everyone," greeted the ex-God, seated next to Washuu. 
"I'm so glad everyone could make it."

"Er. Sis?" Nabiki blinked, taken aback. "I didn't know you were 
gonna-"

"I knew it!" Ranma crowed. "You are the Prophet of Life! We'll 
take that smiling demon out to the cleaners!"

There was a general commotion among everyone present, 
battlecries and preemptive shouts of victory. It lasted a 
moment, until Kasumi smiled. It wasn't a threat or a warning, or 
anything other than her patented sweet and warm homegirl smile, 
but it quieted the room instantly. "Nabiki and Mary," she called 
pleasantly. "Why don't you stand up here by me?"

The two were taken aback by the entire situation, but complied. 
It seemed a long walk to Nabiki, the eyes of almost the entire 
Ultra staff scrutinizing her every step. There was more than 
just the fate of the world riding on this, on her and a little 
girl and an eventual team of fourteen fighting for Life. She was 
good with pressure, thrived on it, but this was something 
different altogether. She managed to take her place beside her 
older sister with her game face intact, however, and that made 
the jitters subside.

"As you know," began the girl who had once been God, hands 
clasped prettily in front of her dress, "we're in a bit of 
trouble now. Xelloss the Mazoku, a demon race from Miss Lina's 
world, has organized fourteen of Ultra's fighters, present and 
past, to engage us in a tournament. If they win, well..." She 
trailed off. They got the idea. "But of course, with our Prophet 
of Life to guide us to victory, they will properly punished and 
everyone will be happy."

There was a resounding cheer... that cut off halfway through.

"But..." Akane's voice filled the room. "Aren't YOU... uh... 
Kasumi? I mean, the Prophet?"

The Tendo girl's eyes widened in surprise, a hand raised to her 
bosom in surprise. "Me? Oh, no, of course not. What a funny 
idea."

"Soo... who is?" asked Ranma.

Kasumi waved her arm. At the end of it stood both her younger 
sister and a small girl in a referee outfit.

"Nabiki?" Hiroshi called in surprise.

"Well, I guess it kind of makes sense..." said Daisuke. "I mean, 
the sister of an ex-God..."

There were murmurs of hesitant consent. Nabiki's patience 
snapped.
"No, not me!" she cried, pointing at Mary. "HER!"

Things were quiet for a very long time.

Mary shifted her weight nervously, small hands clasped. "Um... 
hi."

"What's going on here?" boomed the voice of Yaga, stepping into 
the center of the room. "You can't be serious that a child is 
going to lead us to victory."

Kasumi smiled. "I am very serious. She's the only one who can."

"This is ridiculous!" The Japanese wrestler turned to the 
assembled cast and crew, eating up the limelight. "You expect us 
all to put our hopes into a referee who hasn't reached puberty?"

There was a small amount of murmuring filtering through the 
room, most of it agreement. Lina Inverse, somewhere towards the 
front of the group, held her tongue. She'd helped sell the 
girl's credibility to Nabiki, but the little Godhead was going 
to have to stand on her own two feet if she was going to pull 
this off.

"I'm going to agree with the thick-headed wrestler on this one," 
came another voice, and Mousse strode into the crowd. "Why 
should we be trusting ourselves to a little kid if Kasumi's 
right in front of us?"

"Because Kasumi wouldn't work!" Mary shouted defensively. Her 
face turned red and she tried to stammer an apology to the 
oldest Tendo sister, but Mousse and Yaga were all over it. A 
number of This Old Dojo crewmen, Gundam maintenance workers and 
truck drivers were beginning to shout in league with the two 
antagonizing fighters.

"And she stands here and mocks our previous God while she's at 
it!" The Chinese warrior scoffed. "I'm no raving fanatic, but 
this isn't the time to be tempting whoever the real Prophet is."

"I'm not so into this either," called Marlo, who had 
unsurprisingly brought his own chair. "I mean, who's ever gone 
up against the forces of darkness with someone who hasn't had 
her first boyfriend yet?"

"If we're really that pressed for Prophets," Gary chimed in, 
"why not me? At least I've graduated grade school."

"We need a general who can send his troops to fight to the 
death," agreed Yaga, much more loudly than necessary. "Not a 
pre-teenaged kid with acne on her nose."

Lina smacked her forehead.

"I do not have- that's not the point!" cried Mary. "Listen to 
me!"

'They won't listen,' Nabiki thought sourly. They still think 
this is Sports Entertainment and they're letting their 
villainous persona take over. She was about to speak up, when a 
third voice entered the fray.

"I think Mary is a good choice!"  

All eyes turned to the source of this unexpected sentiment.  
Small in frame but full of determination, Kinomoto Sakura of the 
Card Captor Team spoke.  "She's helped me out a lot," the young 
Clow warrior told the assembled fighters.  "I think she's very 
wise.  Even if she doesn't pick me for her team, I think she'd 
make a good Prophet."

Her partner, Li, gave her a very strange look.  The rest of the 
fighters seemed far from convinced, and were muttering amongst 
themselves when another voice spoke up.

"I agree with Sakura," Ash Ketchum said.

The murmurs quieted.  The young Pokemon trainer cleared his 
throat, looking pained but determined.

"You all know what a mess I was," he told them.  "How badly out 
of whack my head had gotten and everything.  A lot of you tried 
to tell me that I was losing it."  His eyes shifted over several 
faces - Gary, Jessie, James, and finally Tifa.  "None of you got 
through to me.  But she did," he pointed to Mary.  "When 
everyone else had pretty much written me off for a loss, she... 
brought me back from the brink.  I think there's more to her 
than you guys realize."

This seemed to sink in more than Sakura's words had.  Ash's 
turnaround had truly been a sort of miracle, and if Mary had 
been responsible...

"So she has the vote of the kindergarten crowd," grumbled Yaga. 
"Is there anybody besides the diaper crowd who believes in this 
nonsense?"

Mary felt something give way. She frowned at him, and there 
seemed to 
be way too many years packed into that small face than could be 
accounted for. "I'm sorry if I don't seem old enough for you. Or 
if I haven't had any experience in fighting. But I am the 
Prophet of Life, and I am choosing warriors to fight against the 
destruction of the universe. All the universes. If you're not 
interested, step back and stay out of my way."

Yaga opened his mouth, meaning to laugh her off, his eyes locked 
on hers... but she wasn't looking away. And he felt like she 
wasn't going to, no matter how hard he stared.

With all the dignity he could muster, the Great Yaga turned and 
re-entered the crowd.

"Did... did Mary just stare down Yaga?" Sakura whispered.

"Shh," breathed Shingo. "This is getting interesting."

The tide of opinion seemed to be shifting.  Most of the fighters 
in Ultra had been touched, one way or another, by Mary's 
presence, and every touch had affected them more than they 
realized.  She could feel that she was making progress, but was 
it enough?

Lei Wulong stepped forward, studying Mary intently with his 
keen, piercing eyes.  Then, unexpectedly, he turned to Lina 
Inverse.  "I always think it's best to consult the experts," the 
Tokyo Super-cop said.  "And you're about as close to an expert 
as we've got for this sort of thing.  What do you say, Ms. 
Inverse?"

Lina hadn't really wanted to throw her weight in - if Mary 
relied on her too much for support, she'd never learn to stand 
on her own.  Still, it was hard to duck a direct question.  "I 
think," the red-headed sorceress said, "that there's only one 
person right now who feels sure that she's the Prophet of Life.  
And I also think that Xelloss won't be expecting her to be the 
one.  Maybe that could be an advantage, hmm?"

"Look," Nabiki raised her voice.  "I've been looking for this 
damned Prophet for days now.  Nobody knows more about this than 
I do.  And I think Mary's the one."  She was surprised by the 
vehemence of her own words.  A few hours ago, she'd had the same 
doubts as the rest of them.  Now, she was prepared to shout down 
anybody who still wanted to argue against Mary being the true 
Prophet.  "Time is wasting.  Are we going to get on with 
choosing the team, or does anybody else care to challenge the 
issue?"

Yaga fidgeted, seemed about to say something, then closed his 
mouth.

"So this is how things are," she heard herself saying. "I need 
to pick fourteen of you, ten single fighters and two tag-teams, 
to fight against Xelloss and his team."

"When Xelloss picked his champions," she said, "he wasn't 
looking for powerhouses alone. If we do that, we'll lose. This 
battle won't be about power, not really. We have to fight 
because we want to protect our world. Our worlds."

She paused, breathing heavily but taking pains not to show it. 
This is taking a lot out of her, thought Washuu, and felt love 
for her adopted daughter so strongly it almost choked her.

"So are you ready for the team of Life to be chosen?" Mary 
asked.
To her vast relief, the room thundered with cheers. She closed 
her eyes, waiting.

And suddenly fear penetrated her mind.

Now what? she thought. Shouldn't it just come to me? After all 
those words, after I got their attention, I can't just blank 
out! I can't, I can't! Oh please oh please oh please don't mess 
this up...

The cheers had weathered out, and a few nervous sounds, such as 
the shuffling of feet or the clearing of throats were the 
dominant audio factor in the quasi-dojo dimension.

Sweat stood out on Mary's neck. She began to tremble. Tears 
began to form under her eyelids. In a moment, she knew she was 
going to cry, and the fear of her doing so was all that kept it 
at bay.
When the sound of a loud sobbing sound carried its way through 
the quasi-dojo, its occupants blinked in surprise.

Mary did, too.

"OYAJIIII!" was the cry following closely behind a wound-up ball 
of pink. It rolled from the midst of the crowds and to the feet 
of the young Godhead. Dan jumped up, manly tears streaming, and 
fell on one knee like a valiant knight of pinkness. Weeping 
openly, he took the young girl's hands.

"Dan Hibiki will fight for all his might!" declared the shaking, 
weeping man. "Not just for his world! Not just for his right to 
live! Dan Hibiki will risk his very life for none other than his 
number one fan!"

Her smile shone brighter than Washuu's elaborate configuration 
of powerlamps.

"Let it be known," she called, her mind swimming, "that Dan 
Hibiki is the first chosen fighter of Team Life."

"Oh, give me a break," Yaga spat, but did so quietly. The rest 
of the crowd applauded politely.

"That's one down," Kasumi smiled. "Only thirteen more to go. Oh, 
this is so much fun!"

Out of the crowd flew a small catlike creature with a note in 
its mouth. The applause halted as it extended its neck to give 
the piece of paper to Washuu.

"Eh? What's Mew doing?" Ash whispered.

"Chu," was his confused reply.

The scientist looked the letter over, shrugged, and flipped a 
couple switches. The quasi-dojo was once again doused in 
blackness until a single spotlight roughly the size of the 
DeathScythe aimed itself towards the rafters.

"...oh," said Ash.

"Prepare for trouble!"
"Make it double!"
"To protect the world from devastation!"
"To unite all people within our nation!"
"To spread the joys of truth and love!"
"To extend our reach to the stars above!"
"Jessie!"
"James!"
"Team Rocket defends Life at the speed of light!"
"They'll surrender now or prepare to fight!"
"Mew! Mew Mew!"

The human duo somersaulted to the ground, landing in perfect 
formation, while Mew casually floated along. The lights poured 
back on thanks to a bemused Washuu.

"That is so annoying," Marlo grumbled.

Gary shook his head. "Tell me about it."

Most of the crew was all applause, however. Mary joined in.

"Then Team Rocket is our first team!" she called. "That makes 
three!" She paused a moment, then took a quick look at the 
crowd. "And I know who number four will be."

"Ah! Our mighty Prophet has visions!" Dan shook a fist at the 
crowd. It was his way of spreading enthusiasm.

The girl's head swiveled. Everyone followed her gaze. "Duo 
Maxwell," she said.

"At you service," he agreed cheekily, from somewhere inside the 
DeathScythe.

Mary smiled, but felt butterflies in her stomach. That decision 
came to her as so obvious, so necessary, that she had no idea 
what triggered it. And now that she'd outright picked a champion 
of her own, the volunteers seemed to be hesitant to come 
forward.
Dan, Team Rocket, and Duo were all right, she knew that. But who 
was next...?

"Marlo Semaj," she realized out loud.

The Furnityre Warrior laughed, climbing out of his chair. "Well, 
at least you have good taste. I still have my reservations, but 
what the hell. I'm in."

She had barely enough time to breath before she blurted out, 
"And Li Ping."

The American fighter blinked. "Me? Saving the world?"

Mary nodded at him. "You."

"Just think of it as a really epic movie," Sakura chimed in, 
nudging him.

"Yeah," agreed Shingo. "The Chosen One who has to battle with 
the weight of the world on his shoulders."

Sakura nodded knowingly. "He might not realize it at first, but 
only he can do it-"

"I get what you mean. This is awesome!" Li Ping was almost 
bouncing from excitement. He did a few tricky flips in the air. 
"I'm so in!"

"Oh, my," Kasumi beamed. "Six already. You're almost halfway 
there, Mary!"

"More than halfway, I'd think." The collective attention of 
those present turned toward the rough mannerisms of Bean Bandit. 
"What do you think, Teef?"

The brunette grinned. "I'd have to say I agree. I've taken on 
worse odds than this at the stake of the world, and I'll take 
them on again. If you'll allow us, of course."

"It's not really allowing," Mary answered. "There are pieces of 
the puzzle that just... seem to fall into place. All I'm doing 
is arranging things."

Bean raised an eyebrow behind his shades. "So you're saying...?"

"Oh. You're in, of course. And I think that's our second team, 
too."

"Well, naturally. We're at our best when we're together." He 
tossed Tifa a wink.

Mary sighed. It was coming so easily now.

"Our next fighter is Lina Inverse," she announced.

The sorceress beamed. "A fairly obvious choice. And I can't wait 
to teach that bimbo Naga a thing or two about strange 
bedfellows." The sound of her cracking her knuckles went through 
the spines of everyone present.

"We'll be more than happy to give you your chance," agreed 
Nabiki. "I can't believe I ever had such a fool on my pay list." 
She tapped her chin. "And while we're on that subject, how about 
Ultraman here?" She tossed her incognito employee a smirk.

Mary blinked. "I was just about to say that."

Ultraman expressed his assent with a single nod. The young girl 
went back to concentrating, although it wasn't really necessary.

"And Ash Ketchum." She was smiling when she said it, but it was 
a faltering thing. A keen observer would have found it quite 
disturbing.
Ash, meanwhile, grinned at Raichu. "What do you say? Up for it?"

"Rai rai."

Puzzled glances.

"That's a yes," Ash translated.

Kasumi clapped. "This is wonderful! It's going much faster than 
I expected! Only three more to go, Mary!"

The girl looked up at her, eyes full of worry. After Ash, she 
felt completely dry. It was as if the slate she'd been reading 
from had been wiped clean. Nothing else was coming to her.

Nothing else... she thought, and her mind lingered on those 
words. Nothing is coming to me.

Coming to me.

"I think..." she began, then shook the away her doubts. They 
wouldn't follow anyone who was unsure of themselves, let alone a 
little girl. 

"The next two fighters need to come forward of their own free 
will," she said.

Shingo, Sakura, Selphie, Zell, Lei, Ranma, and Akane were 
instantly on their feet.

"I'm ready for anything!"

"Of course, I'll fight!"

"We're here for ya!"

"Just tell me where to sign up!"

"You can count on me to fight."

"Come on, you can't lemme miss a fight like this. And I gotta 
stop that old freak from having his way."

"You know I'm ready to give it my all!"

Mary shook her head at the gaggle of eager fighters. They 
stopped talking instantly, thunderstruck. "I'm... sorry, but 
only one of you will be entering the Team. That doesn't mean 
you're not needed, or any less necessary," she hurried on, "but 
most of your places will be assisting from the sides."

"So which one of us is it?" asked Sakura.

Shingo nodded emphatically. "Yeah, don't keep us in suspense!"

Mary checked a sigh, and somehow turned into a small smile. "I'm 
sorry, but I don't know yet. It will fall into place once the 
next two come forth."

"Then I'll come forth," came a voice. Possibly the last voice 
any of them expected to hear. Also quite possible the last 
person they expected to be there at all.

A mass of tall muscle made its way from the backs of the 
entourage. It walked directly up to Mary, and looked down at her 
from what seemed miles of bulk.

"Sagat," Mary greeted, inclining her head. "You are indeed the 
one we need."

"Wait a minute," Ranma cried, jerking back to his feet. "Why 
him? The guy who used to work for Bison, fighting against evil? 
What are you even doing here in the first place?"

The Muay Thai fighter's eye turned on the young martial artist. 
He sneered, folding arms of his broad chest. "What a foolish 
question, although I'm not surprised to hear it from you. I'm 
sure as hell not going to follow the schemes of another raving 
lunatic like Bison again. And do you really think I'd let a 
bunch of kids, brats, and fools fight for my right to live? I'm 
not trusting my life to anyone except myself."

"Valiant words," smirked Washuu.

Ranma looked like he was about to rise to the challenge, but 
Akane restrained him with a firm hand. "Let it go. We still have 
two more to go."

Mary nodded, and the teenaged martial artist settled down. She 
was afraid there would be a long, awkward silence. This wasn't 
the case.

"I guess I have no choice, then," rumbled Yaga. "At least it'll 
give me the chance to teach Satan a thing or two about joining 
forces with someone who disrespects our livelihood."

The little Godhead beamed. "Great. Welcome to the team. And by 
the time this is over, I'll prove to you that I'm worthy of 
being Prophet."

The Great Yaga allowed himself a grin. "I have known mighty men, 
giant men, and great warriors who could never speak those words 
with such conviction. But," he added, "I am going to hold you to 
that promise."

"I look forward to proving it," she said somberly, then set her 
thoughts once again.

"So it's down to one more," Nabiki mused. "You know who it is 
yet?"

"Yeah. I... do." She chewed her lip.

Her eyes brushed over the crowd.

Ranma sat forward... and felt her eyes fall on him. He grinned, 
began to stand...

...and they slid past him, settling on his fiancée.

"Akane," Mary said. "Tendo Akane will be our final teammate."

Both fiancées were equally taken aback at this news. They tried 
to talk, but couldn't for the stumble in their voices.

"Why ME?"

"Why HER? I mean, and not ME?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't know. But your place is at the 
sidelines, Ranma. Behind the scenes. You'll be important there, 
believe me. But it's Akane's turn to take the ring."

'Oh, great,' thought Nabiki. 'Here's where Ranma makes a huge 
deal and possibly ruins everything.'

But Ranma was utterly silent. Akane looked at him 
apprehensively, worried herself.

"Do you accept this responsibility?" Mary asked.

Perhaps once, she would have waited for Ranma's nod before 
agreeing. Perhaps once, she would have agreed with even more 
vehemence if he made a lot of noise. This wasn't then.

"I do," she said resolutely. "And I'll do my best."

The Japanese martial artist gamely forced a sportsmanlike grin 
onto his face. "Ah, what the hell. It's probably a huge mistake, 
but I've seen what ya can do now. And it's not like I have much 
of a choice anyway."

Mary sighed with relief. She raised her hands, and called out.

"Team Life has been chosen!"

The cheers could have carried into the next quasi-dojo over. It 
wasn't UltraDome intense, but comparatively, it was pretty 
close. The ruckus was only cut out by Washuu turning on her own 
voice amplifier t the highest setting.

"Not to ruin the mood, but can we take this celebration 
somewhere else? This place isn't exactly cheap to keep 
operational."

"All right, let's move it out," Nabiki called as the lights 
flickered out and the giant portal reappeared. "We all know 
where to be the night of the first fight." The sounds of a mass 
exodus gradually surfaced, and beneath it all, she grinned to 
herself. "The first fight of Final Ultra. The beginning of the 
end."

"Is something wrong?" asked Kasumi, having somehow made it to 
her sister's side in the pitch dark. How her voice carried over 
the DeathScythe's exit was beyond Nabiki, but she still wasn't 
surprised to hear it.

The entrepreneur chuckled, shaking her head. "Not really. I just 
remember when I did was scam neighborhood people out of money 
and all you did was clean the house and look after everyone."

"Oh, yes," Kasumi agreed. "Things were a lot simpler then, I 
suppose. I don't think I'd trade that time for this, though. Do 
you?"

Nabiki rubbed at her eyes. "I don't know. Sometimes, maybe. I 
never did realize how much things would change when you went to 
fight that tournament. That was really the start of it all, 
wasn't it?"

The younger Tendo smiled. It was full of kindness that you 
didn't have to see to feel. "Goodness, I don't think so. These 
matters tend to start long before we're caught up in them." 

"You're probably right. Well," Nabiki sighed, "I might as well 
follow everyone and make sure they don't throw a giant party to 
completely bankrupt what little I have left. You coming?"

"Of course I am. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

When all was said and done and the portal closed, the lights 
flickered back on. Only four remained. Washuu smiled down at 
Mary and gave her a tight hug. The young girl had stopped Dan 
from leaving by grabbing onto his gi, and so the pink clad 
martial artist was caught up in the embrace as well.

"You did great," she said. "I'm sorry they gave you such a rough 
time at the start."

Mary shook her head. "I'm not. It's just like I said to Mr. 
Yaga, I'll have to prove my worth to them. But I'm up to it."

"I have to say you proved it to me already." Lina grinned. "I'll 
never forget the look on that buffoon's face when he realized 
you weren't gonna break first."

"I just hope he's not too offended." Mary smiled. "To be honest, 
I just want to go to sleep."

"You earned it." Lina turned back to the scientist. "Think you 
can crank up a smaller portal for me and the weeping warrior 
there?"

"Not a problem." Washuu swapped a few coordinates and the blue 
sphere was back, human-sized.

"There's nothing shameful of a man's tears!" Dan protested.

Mary laughed. "Not at all. Oh, and Dan... I wanted to say thank 
you."

"Thank me? For what?" The man blinked. "I did nothing that-"
She laughed again and covered his cheeks in mountains of 
butterfly kisses.

- - - - - 

One day before the Tournament was scheduled to begin, the two 
teams faced one another for the first time.  They stood in the 
Ultimate Arena in the shadow of the looming gargoyle that would 
serve as their Referee.  

[Prophet Of Destruction,] the immense voice of the Referee 
boomed, [Your Team Has Been Chosen.]

"Indeed it has!" he asserted, stepping forth.  He could sense 
some sort of barrier in place between the sides upon which the 
two teams stood.  There was obviously meant to be no fighting 
before the Tournament itself began, which was probably a good 
thing.  A few of these people looked ready to lunge at each 
others' throats.  

[Prophet Of Life,] the gargoyle continued.  [Your Team Has Been 
Chosen.]

"Yes," Mary agreed, her chin raised high.  "We're ready."

Xelloss peered at her curiously.  This had not been who he had 
expected to face as the Prophet of Life.  Very, very odd.  But 
his grinning face betrayed no surprise.  He was too old a player 
to tip his hand so clumsily.  

"Hal-oo, Mary-chan!" he called.  "So good to finally meet you in 
person!  I've been looking forward to this, don't you know.  
Such an honor!"

"Can it, Xelloss," Lina snapped.  

"And a fine hello to you to, Lina-chan!" the Mazoku chirped 
back.  "I've forgiven you for that Chrono Trigger thingy you did 
to me, by the way.  Very clever of you.  Very cunning.  I really 
do admire you!"

She stuck her tongue out at him in response.

He continued on merrily.  "What an interesting little band 
you've pulled together, Mary-chan!" he burbled.  "Quite a few 
faces I wasn't expecting to see.  Why, if it isn't Sagat!  
You're looking positively grumpy, my friend!  Are you feeling 
that you ended up on the wrong side, hmm?"

"Hardly," the Muay-Thai fighter grunted.  

M. Bison let out a deep, throaty chuckle.  "Ah, Sagat," he 
rumbled.  "Such a pity to see you reduced to the level of the 
children you once derided.  How far you have fallen since you 
left me!  It will be a mercy killing when I put you out of your 
misery."

"You?" Sagat snorted, seeming genuinely amused.  "You and what 
army, Bison?  Oh yes, you lost your army.  I wonder, can you 
survive without it?"

The former dictator's smile widened, but the tendons in his neck 
stood out, and his eyes blazed angrily.

The Referee interrupted any further conversation which may have 
ensued with his sonorous tones.  [The Time Has Come.  The 
Prophets Have Assembled Their Fighters.  Now, The Contests Shall 
Be Determined.]

The stands of the Ultimate Arena flickered and seemed to fall 
away, fading into a star-studded darkness.  The two teams were 
left standing on a flat plane of stone that floated amongst 
countless swirling galaxies, drifting through the endless void.  

[The First Stage Of The Tournament.  The Fights Shall Number...] 
a pause, as if the Referee were processing something, then:  
[Six.]

Six globes of stone rose from the blackness, each one colossal 
in its dimensions, though it was hard to determine how big they 
truly were.  They might have been the size of a battleship, or 
as big as islands, or as huge as moons.  They orbited slowly 
around the perimeter of the floating Arena floor.  

Each globe seemed composed of two kinds of stone - each had a 
light half, and a dark half.  One of them detached itself from 
the orbital path and hovered above the two teams, the light 
stone facing Mary and the dark side facing Xelloss.

[Destruction Shall Choose The First Challenger,] the Referee 
intoned.

"Oh, well," Xelloss replied, tossing his head back and forth.  
"Let me see.  Hmm.  Well, how about we start with Mr. Cage?  
He's back from the dead and all.  I'm sure he's eager to get 
back into the swing of things, right, Johnny?"

The movie star turned zombie stepped forward and mugged.  The 
effect of his practiced spotlight smile was somewhat dampened by 
the fact that his skin was a sort of nasty greenish hue, and 
seemed to be flaking off in places.  "Yeah, man!" he agreed.  
"On with the show!"

Streaks of deep purple light burst forth from the surface of the 
dark stone, carving their way along the smooth face of the 
globe.  The light resolved itself into patterns, which became 
runes.  It was no language that any of them had ever seen, yet 
all found that they could make sense of the glowing characters 
which had been set into the globe.  It was as if they had been 
written in some primal tongue, buried deep in the subconscious, 
common to every human mind.  The runes spelled out the name of 
Johnny Cage.

[Life Shall Choose The First Champion.]

"Allow me," came the voice of the Great Yaga.  "I believe it 
would be fitting for me to begin the contest.  I shall fight in 
the first..."

"YAGA!" snarled Lina.  "What are you DOING?"

But it was too late.  Streaks of golden light burst forth from 
the surface of the light stone, etching Yaga's name into the 
smooth finish of the stone opposite Cage's runes.  Lina glared 
at the big man, enraged.  "What are you thinking?" she demanded.

"I believe I should handle this," Yaga said.  "As Ultra's Head 
Booker, I'm most qualified to determine..."

"This isn't booking!" Lina shouted.  "Your experience doesn't 
mean anything, Yaga!"

"Of course it does..."

"No!"  The small sorceress glared up at the muscular wrestler.  
"Get it through your head, buster.  This is NOT sports-
entertainment!  We aren't here to 'book' interesting matches.  
We're not here to cater to rivalries or entertain the crowd.  We 
are here to win!  That's it!  That's all!"

Yaga seemed about to protest, but the look in Lina's eyes 
brought him up short.  He took a deep breath, then bowed his 
head slightly towards her.  "Very well," he acknowledged with 
stiff pride.  "I concede the point.  Who decides the matches, 
then?"

"That's Mary's job," Lina said.

"Yes," the young messiah agreed.  "But Yaga, I do want to hear 
what you have to say, if you have a suggestion.  Just... don't 
make any decisions like that until we're ready.  All right?"

"You are most gracious," the veteran fighter said.

Lina seemed satisfied, and turned back towards the enemy team.  
"All right, looks like we're stuck with this.  We can't change 
our pick, can we?"

[The Choice Has Been Made.]

"Thought so."

[The Conditions Are Normal,] the Referee said.  [The Setting Is 
The Borderlands Of Hades.]

"Wait, wait!" Lina called out.  "What does that mean?  I thought 
we were fighting here!  And what's this about conditions?"

[The Setting Shall Be Duplicated Within The Arena,] the Referee 
clarified.  [The Location Is Chosen At Random.  The Replica Will 
Conform To The Boundaries Of Each Given Contest.]

"And the conditions?"

[Combat Without Interference Within The Established Boundaries.  
Battle Continues Until One Fighter Falls For The Count Of Ten, 
Or Until A Fighter Declares Surrender.  These Are The Normal 
Conditions.]

"What," she asked, "are abnormal conditions?"

[A Random Possibility Has Been Assigned,] the gargoyle droned.  
[Special Stipulations Will Be Set For Victory In Certain 
Matches.  You Will Be Informed In Advance If This Is The Case.]

"Oh," the sorceress said.  "We get told after we decide who 
fights?"

[Correct.]

"Right."

The sphere with the two names, each pulsing from the light some 
internal eldritch furnace, shifted back into the orbital path, 
and a fresh sphere took its place.  The voice of the Referee 
washed across them in its leaden tones.  

[Life Shall Choose The Second Challenger.]

"Oh, we take turns picking first," Lina observed.  "Is that how 
it works?"

[Correct.]

"Right.  Okay, Mary.  Who do you choose?"

The Prophet of Life felt her mouth go dry.  "Um... let me see.  
Does anyone have any suggestions?"

Yaga seemed about to say something, but though the better of it.  
The rest of the Life team shifted and fidgeted.  They all wanted 
to volunteer, but at the same time none of them were quite 
confident enough to step forward.  

Lina Inverse took a deep breath.  "Okay, look.  Let's try to get 
our most experienced people out in front tonight.  And by 
experienced, I mean people who've had to fight in high-pressure 
situations, where lives are at stake.  Right?"

Mary nodded.  That gave her a starting point.  She considered 
the faces of her fighters, thought about what she knew of each 
of their backgrounds.  "Okay.  Then... let's choose Duo Maxwell 
for the second fight."

"Sounds good to me," Duo agreed.  With a noise like steaming 
water erupting through a fissure in the earth, Duo's name etched 
itself in golden runes onto the surface of the dual-hued globe.

[Destruction Shall Choose The Second Champion.]

Xelloss hummed and frowned and made a big show of pretending 
like he was thinking it over.  Lina wondered how much of it was 
an act - she thought that Xelloss really did decide things on a 
whim once and a while, but more often than not he was as crafty 
a strategist as Sun Tzu.  The ditzy act was all part of his 
camouflage.

"Well, since you're choosing one of your biggest fighters," he 
said, "how about I choose one of my smallest!  Bulleta?  Why 
don't you take this one?"

"Golly, widdle me?" squealed pint-sized maniac.   "That's so 
nice of you, Mr. Xelloss!"

And B.B. Hood's name blazed its way onto the booking sphere.

"Her?" Duo choked in astonishment.  "You're putting a little kid 
like that up against a Gundam?  Man, maybe I should fight this 
one without DeathScythe."

"You'll do no such thing," Lina shot back.  "Remember why we're 
here.  If it's an easy win, it's an easy win."  But she didn't 
think it would be.  She didn't know how it would happen, but she 
had a feeling that Duo would have his hands full dealing with 
his miniscule foe.  

[The Conditions Are Search-And-Destroy.  The Setting Is Planetoid 77A-6 In 
The Pleiades Sector.]

"Search and destroy?" Lina glowered. "What the hell does that mean?"

[It Is Not So Different From The Normal Conditions. Search-And-Destroy Means 
There Will Be Some Seeking Between The Combatants Before They Can Fight.]

"Great. I'm sure there'll be a whole bunch of places for a Gundam to hide on 
Planetoid... what was it?"

[The Setting Is Planetoid 77A-6 In The Pleiades Sector.]

Duo scratched his head. "Where the heck is that?"

Lina shrugged.  "Sounds like the sort of place we always used to 
hold Omega fights to me.  I guess you'll find out the details 
when it comes time to fight."

[Destruction,] the Referee announced as the globes shifted, and 
a fresh sphere positioned itself above their heads, [Shall 
Choose The Third Challenger.]

"Well now," Xelloss began.  He flipped a few coins, rolled a few 
dice, and then looked thoughtful.  "I know!  Let's have a little 
tag-team action tonight, shall we?  Haohmaru and Morrigan will 
do the honors!"

"ENLIGHTENMENT!" erupted Haohmaru, right on cue.  "LET THE 
MINSTRELS SING OF THIS GLORIOUS CONFRONTATION!  LET THE T-SHIRTS 
BE PRINTED!  LET THE DVD VERSION OF OUR BATTLE CONTAIN A HOST OF 
SPECIAL FEATURES!"

"Moron," Lina muttered.

[Life Shall Choose The Third Champion.]

Mary considered for only a moment.  She thought that she could, 
if push came to shove, create a tag team by pairing any two of 
her fighters, or separate the teams and let the members fight 
solo.  But there wasn't any point to that, at least not at the 
moment.  Both her tag teams were experienced, but Team Rocket 
seemed more nervous.  "Bean Bandit and Tifa Lockheart will 
fight," she announced.

The runes flared.  Bean seemed to pale a bit, his lantern jaw 
set like a rock formation, but Tifa gave Mary a confident nod.

[The Conditions Are Tag-Team Standard.  The Setting Is Central 
Park, New York, Planet Earth.]

"Central Park?" Bean growled at the Referee.  "Don't you care 
about property damage or nothin'?"

[The Setting Is A Replica.  The Real Location Will Not Be 
Affected.]

"Oh yeah," the Roadbuster said, chagrined.  "Forgot about that."

Three of the globes had now been filled with runes dictating who 
would fight.  One of the remaining three clean spheres floated 
into place.

[Life Shall Choose The Fourth Challenger.]

Mary wiped a sheen of sweat from her forehead.  This was as 
grueling as fighting in a match, in its own way.  Opposite her, 
Xelloss had produced a book of crossword puzzles, studying it as 
if he didn't have a care in the world.  She hated to admit that 
his nonchalant act was getting to her, but it was.  

To settle her heart, she reached for something which always gave 
her comfort.

"I choose Dan Hibiki!" she announced.

"OOSHA!" Dan shouted, manly tears suddenly bursting from his 
eyes.  "Stone Cold Taunting Legend Dan Hibiki shall not let you 
down!  Mighty are his fists!  Mighty are his feet!  Mighty, 
even, are his armpits!"

[Destruction Shall Choose The Fourth Champion.]

Xelloss seemed to take a particular delight in this moment.  He 
scanned his fighters, letting his eyes rest momentarily on Dark 
Schneider before looking away.  The handsome sorcerer grimaced - 
he seemed to realize he'd been passed over.  The Mazoku knew 
that the legendary wizard ached to fight Dan, but it wouldn't do 
to give the man everything he wanted so soon.

He eyed Sephiroth for a moment, who also had a history of 
despising the Pink Wonder.  The Prophet of Destruction cocked 
his head, considered for a longer moment, then finally said:  
"How about... B-ko?  Yes, I think that would be good."

The lavender-haired mecha-queen threw back her head and laughed 
heartily.  "A fool like that? I shall crush him easily!" she 
vaunted as her name seared its way into the stone of the booking 
sphere.

[The Conditions Are Normal.  The Setting Is Graviton High, In 
Japan Of Planet Earth.]

Mary blinked in surprise.  That location - B-ko's old high 
school - seemed more than just a choice of coincidence.  Did the 
Referee have some sort of hidden criterion for choosing the 
place of the fights?

The spheres shifted again, and the fifth of them swung its way 
into position.  Its polished surface gleamed dully in the faint 
light of the stars.

[Destruction Shall Choose The Fifth Challenger.]

Xelloss produced a mug of coffee from beneath his cloak, sipped 
it for an agonizingly long moment, then feigned surprise.  "Oh!" 
he exclaimed.  "Well, according to my coffee grounds, I need to 
pick... M. Bison!"

The crimelord let out a satisfied rumble.  "Ah," he hissed.  "It 
will be good to be back on the battlefield.  I have to make up 
for a bit of lost time."  A laugh like crumbling marble rolled 
out of his throat.  "Now, who shall be my victim?"

[Life Shall Choose The Fifth Champion,] the Referee stated.

Mary began to say that it would be Sagat, but then she stopped 
herself.  She watched Xelloss as he dumped creamer from a tiny 
silver pot into his coffee mug, seemingly oblivious to the 
proceedings around him.  'That would be the most obvious 
choice,' she thought to herself.  'But does that make it the 
right one?  Or maybe it IS the right choice, and he's trying to 
psych me out into...'

She shook her head once, definitively.  Trying to second-guess a 
Mazoku was a surefire road to paralytic confusion.  She surveyed 
the fighters again, trying to clear her mind, listening to the 
voice of her heart.  If she couldn't trust that, she could trust 
nothing.

'Not Sagat,' she thought, the whispering voice in her head 
confident and sure.  'Not this time.'

So she looked elsewhere, and suddenly it came to her.  She 
didn't know from where the intuition had arisen, but it felt 
right, and she spoke without any further hesitation.  
"Ultraman," she said.  "Ultraman will fight this time."

The light on the sphere shimmered and dug through the stone, and 
the runes for Ultraman appeared.  

[The Conditions Are Standard,] the Referee informed them.  [The 
Setting Is The Lake Edwards Salt Flats Of Planet Earth.]

The final sphere moved into place, casting its shadow across the 
assembled warriors.

[Life Shall Choose The Sixth Challenger.]

Mary felt as if she'd been run a marathon, and it still wasn't 
over.  She could sense the eyes of her fighters on her as she 
struggled with the choice.  'A safe choice,' she thought.  
'Someone who can handle the pressure.'  She raised her head and 
called:  "Lina Inverse will fight."

"Oh goody!" Xelloss beamed.  "I do love it when Lina-chan struts 
her stuff.  I always felt disappointed on those shows where she 
wasn't booked, you know.  Seemed wrong, somehow.  And now, 
wonder of wonders, I get to choose who she'll be facing!  This 
is just a thrill for me, I want to say.  A dream come true."

[Destruction Shall Choose The Sixth Champion.]

Naga the White Serpent strode forth, clad in her scandalous 
black leather outfit which served as a sparse frame for her 
voluptuous curves.  "OH-HO-HO-HO-HO!" she belted in her spine-
chilling laugh.  "Obviously, the most fitting opponent for Lina 
in this fight is..."

"Happosai!" Xelloss declared joyously.

"WHAT?" Naga screeched.

"Sweet-o!" the little lecher croaked in lascivious glee.  "Me 
and scrumptious Lina-chan, together at last!"

Lina Inverse made a sour face and glared at Xelloss.  "You're a 
jerk, you know that?"

"Now, now," Xelloss scolded.  "We don't need name-calling here, 
do we?  We're all friends here at the End of Time!"

This was a statement of such blatant absurdity that nobody 
dignified it with a response.

[The Conditions Are Standard,] the gargoyle declared.  [The 
Setting Is The Island Of Bikini On Planet Earth.]

Happosai's globular eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, 
sparkling with tears of perverted joy.  He trembled, and held 
his tiny hands in front of him as if praying.  "The... the 
island of Bikini?" he wheezed.  "Hallelujah!  WOO-HOO!  Here I 
come, BABY!"

On the other side, Lina's face became ashen pale.  She knew that 
Happosai drew his strength from his various descents into 
depravity.  "There's such a place?  Island of Bikini?"  She 
swallowed hard.  "That... doesn't mean what I think it does... 
does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

To her surprise, a large hand fell on her shoulder in a 
comforting gesture.  She turned and came face to face with the 
Great Yaga.  His smile was immediately reassuring.  "Yaga?" she 
said.

"Trust me," he told her.  "In spite of the name, it is a place 
with a sad and shameful history.  Happosai will find nothing 
there he desires."

The color returning to her face, Lina gave him a grateful nod.  
"Tell me about it later, okay?"

"I shall," the wrestler promised.

The last sphere, its runes blazing on both the light and dark 
sides, vectored off into the void to join its companions.  Their 
orbit tightened, and they drew themselves into a spiral around 
the striped gargoyle that was the Referee.  One by one, they 
sank out of sight behind the great stone wings folded behind the 
Referee's back.  

[The First Stage Has Been Decided.  Six Battles Shall Be Fought.  
Six Victors Shall Be Determined.  Go Now, And Return To Your 
Places Of Waiting.  The Time For The Tournament Approaches.]

The carved walls and stands of the Arena faded back into place, 
obscuring the star field once more and restoring the great 
coliseum to its former stately, ominous grandeur.  The two 
teams, exchanging a few final glares at one another, began to 
shuffle their way towards their respective doorways.  

The fighters had all disappeared into their respective 
sanctuaries, leaving only the Prophets of Life and Destruction 
in the Arena, when two figures suddenly burst forth from one of 
the side entrances to the Team of Life's area.  

Hiroshi and Daisuke stared about the almost empty coliseum, eyes 
wide with awe at their first sight of the majestic structure.  
Once again, they'd managed to miss seeing the assembled Team of 
Life - the roster would be as big a surprise to them as it would 
to the audience when the time to fight came. 

"Hey!" shouted Hiroshi to the Referee.  "Excuse me!  I just have 
a question!"

[Ask.]

The energetic announcer cleared his throat, then spread his 
hands wide.  "What about us?"

[You Are Not Participating In The Tournament,] the Referee 
stated.

"Of course we are!" Hiroshi insisted. 

[You Are Not Members Of Either Team,] noted the striped 
gargoyle.  

"No," Daisuke told it.  "We're the announcers."

"Yeah!" Hiroshi agreed.  "Where do we sit when this thing 
starts?  I don't want to be late for the show."

The grey face of the gargoyle showed no expression at all.  
[Announcers Are Not Required.]

"WHAT?" Hiroshi cried in dismay.  "We are SO required!  Um... 
sir," he added quickly.  He wasn't sure what this big thing 
really was, though he expected it had to be some sort of god or 
demon or something.  Nobody had really explained that part to 
him.

[The Witnesses Will Be Present,] the Referee boomed.  [No 
Intermediary Is Needed.]

"That's not the point!" Hiroshi demanded.  "The point is that 
there have to be announcers to call the action, okay?  That's 
just... that's just... that's ULTRA!  All right?"

[This Is The Tournament At The End Of Time.  It Is Not Ultra.]

"Yes it is!" Hiroshi insisted.  "Look, this whole thing is set 
to decide whether we all live or die, right?  So it's OUR 
tournament!  As in the tournament of the people of Earth!  And 
we are calling it Ultra - FINAL Ultra - so by God, it IS Ultra!"

Daisuke nodded his agreement, and both Prophets looked on 
thoughtfully.

"At Ultra, there are announcers!" Hiroshi continued, his voice 
charged with passion.  "And that's us!  We're the announcers, me 
and Daisuke.  We've been here since the beginning, and we HAVE 
to be here at the end!  We deserve this!"

[Why?]

"Because we've given everything for this job!" Hiroshi 
exclaimed.  "Because we've both lost our jobs and struggled 
back!  Because... uh..."

"Because we've died and been cloned," Daisuke commented.  

"We've fought as hard as these fighters!" Hiroshi insisted.  
"And the people expect us to be there!  It won't be right unless 
somebody announces the match, and WE are the ones who have to do 
it!"

The hyperactive commentator took a huge gulp of air, trembling 
and sweating.  Mary stepped forward beside him and addressed the 
gargoyle.

"They have a point," she said.  "It won't change the fights to 
have them announcing, and it's... fitting for them to be here."  
She looked at Xelloss, hoping her face didn't betray her sense 
of anxiety.

"Hmm."  The Mazoku steepled his fingers together and seemed to 
think about it.  "You know, I really don't mind.  It would seem 
sort of lonely without these two lads.  I have no objection."

[The Prophet Of Life And Prophet Of Destruction Are In 
Agreement?] the gargoyle asked.  

"On this matter," Xelloss acknowledged.  "If on nothing else."

"Yes," Mary said.  

[Very Well.  A Place Shall Be Set.  The Announcers Shall Be 
Allowed To Perform Their Duty.]

"Thank you," Hiroshi gasped, beaming.  "Thank you so much."

[And Now, Prepare Yourselves,] the great chiseled Referee 
commanded.  [The Hour Approaches.  The Beginning Is Near.]

- - - - -

They had been given a place to rest in the Ultimate Arena, a 
backstage of their own from which to organize their efforts 
during the contest.  It spread out from a passage which led to 
the fighting area itself, a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers 
all carved in smooth, somber granite.  The actual temperature 
was moderate, but it felt somehow cold all the same.

The crew of This Old Dojo and the rest of the Ultra staff had 
entered this anthill of corridors, determined to make it their 
own.  Their posters and calendars began to appear on the wall, 
pictures of family and friends, their favorite comics and 
drawings.  There was not a whole lot for them to do at this 
event, though none had declined the invitation to come along.  
So they went about breathing their own life and personality into 
these vast, uncaring halls.

Mary found their efforts to be quietly, incredibly brave.

She had her team, and the time had almost come.  They waited in 
their backstage sanctuary, assembled in the order that she had 
planned to introduce them.  She looked out over their faces, her 
guts twisting and knotting about themselves like strings wound 
around the fingers of an amateur trying to learn the cat's 
cradle.  

Most of them were more nervous than she was.  

There were a few exceptions, fortunately.  Lina Inverse seemed 
unaffected by the pressure, and those around her drew strength 
from the breezy confidence she exuded.  Ultraman was hard to 
read.  Duo Maxwell leaned against the wall, his hands folded 
behind his head, as if he were dozing in the sun.  

But most of them were all but terrified.  Li Ping looked 
practically green, and Bean Bandit's eyes darted around like 
those of a trapped animal.  Tendo Akane fidgeted with her hands, 
desperate for something to do, and the normally unshakable Marlo 
wore a haunted look on his face.

'Talk to them,' she told herself.  'Inspire them.  That's why 
you're here.'

She stepped forward, and all heads swiveled, all eyes focused on 
her at once.  She was dismayed to see the looks of distrust and 
uncertainty still coloring the faces of her fighters, but she 
had not proven herself to them, not yet.  It was time to start.

"We are here," she told them soberly, "because the lives of 
billions depend upon us.  I would not have asked you to join 
this team if I did not think you could handle the task."

They listened, silent and apprehensive.

Mary swallowed hard.  "You are all superb fighters.  Each of you 
has proven yourself countless times in battle.  But everything 
you've done, everything you've achieved up to now, has all been 
in preparation for this.  Now, you must fight with everything 
you've got."

It didn't seem to be helping.  Sagat's face was hard and cold, 
Yaga pursed his lips.  Li Ping seemed to be battling to keep his 
lunch down.

"Never forget," she continued, searching for the right words, 
"what is at stake here.  Never forget the innocent lives that 
you will be saving.  Never let yourselves forget that you're 
fighting for them, for all the people out there in the world.  
Their future is in your hands.  Their lives are in the balance."

She saw Akane try to swallow on a dry mouth.  Duo flinched.  Ash 
bit his lip.  Marlo's jaw quivered.  Bean Bandit seemed about to 
faint.

'This isn't working!' she thought desperately, her eyes scanning 
the faces of her fighters.  'I can't...'

"I'm sorry to interrupt," came the voice of Tifa Lockheart.  
"Can I just say something, Mary?"

"Sure," the young messiah said in a hoarse voice.

Tifa patted Bean on his beefy arm, smiled up at him, and calmed 
him with her eyes.  The long-haired fighter strode out in front 
of the rest of the group and took her place beside Mary.

"I've been in this situation before," Tifa told the members of 
the Team of Life.  "And believe me, that doesn't make it any 
easier.  But there's a way to think about this to get yourself 
through it."

Their eyes were riveted upon her face, they hung on her every 
word.  

"You can't think about all the people out there," Tifa told 
them, gently contradicting what Mary had said.  "You know we're 
here to save the world, but that's really just an abstract 
concept.  No person can really know what that means.  If you 
tried to think about it all, tried to take them all into your 
heart, you would simply... burst."

Nods and sighs.  Mary listened with the rest of them.

"There's no shame in that," Tifa continued, her voice strong and 
confident.  "The human heart can only hold so much.  So don't 
try to focus on the big picture.  You aren't here to defend the 
world.  You're here because of the ones you love.  You're here 
for your mother," she said to Ash, "for your fiancee," she said 
to Akane, "for each other," she told Jessie and James.  She 
turned her eyes to Sagat.  "Or you are here for yourself, your 
pride.  For the music you want to hear again, for the sunsets 
you have yet to see."

And their eyes grew clearer as she spoke.  The trembling lips 
stilled, the shaking hands steadied.

"You are here to defend YOUR life," she told them.  "You need 
only think about the people you love, on your own dreams.  You 
can trust that everything else flows from that, like tiny rivers 
feeding into a stream.  A lifestream." 

She scanned them all once more with her eyes.  "We fight 
together," Tifa told the Team of Life.  "Stand, and be true."

And they shouted for her, pumped their fists and nodded in 
affirmation.  Dan howled vows for his beloved father, Duo gave 
Li Ping a hearty high-five, and Team Rocket held hands with Ash 
and raised their arms into the air.  A smile even crossed 
Sagat's hard, grim face, if only for a moment.

'I must remember this,' Mary thought as she watched them, and 
she looked at Tifa with gratitude.  'I will not forget what I've 
learned today.  I can't afford to forget.'

The hour was almost upon them.  

- - - - - 

Statues of ancient warriors lined its edges, carved from marble 
by some unknown hand.  Pillars of stone rose to the heavens, 
supporting the upper rim of the structure at a seemingly 
unfathomable height.  The cavernous ceiling of the Dome yawned 
above, and beams of light pierced the gloom from nowhere, 
centered upon the arena at the center.

It was a place of unknowable vastness, of palpable power.  It 
was the Ultimate Arena.  

Hiroshi and Daisuke gaped around in wonder.  

As immense as this place was, it still didn't seem large enough 
to hold the crowd of six billion which had been invited to 
witness this tournament.  Yet looks were deceptive, especially 
here at the End of Time, where the rules of physics had long 
passed their expiration date and all bets were off.  Hiroshi 
gazed into the crowd, the teeming masses of people from every 
culture and nation in the world, and a peculiar sensation 
overcame him.

The more he looked, the more the crowd seemed to grow.  The 
longer his eyes remained in one spot, the more faces unfolded 
before him, like he was diving into a sea of humanity which 
rushed by him as he plunged further and further into the depths.  
Space distorted itself as he examined the crowd, and he could 
see that they really WERE all here.  All six billion, every 
person who had gotten a ticket.  They overlapped, they unfurled, 
they shifted restlessly as their eyes focused on the Arena.

By the grace of whatever mind-paralyzing power which had 
arranged the Tournament at the End of Time, the entire 
population of the planet Earth would be watching this show.  And 
they all had good seats.

The announcer's area which the Referee had allowed them sat 
positioned at the edge of the Arena.  Around the curving 
perimeter of the coliseum, there had been carved two dugout-like 
areas, in which each of the teams would stand for the show.  The 
Prophet of Life and her team would observe from one side, while 
the Prophet of Destruction and his followers would watch from 
the other.  

Hiroshi tore his eyes away from the endless crowd, and swallowed 
hard.  His mouth seemed to have become a sandy desert.  "Holy 
crap," he croaked quietly.  "I think I'm gonna throw up."

His partner spoke in a voice with a slight quaver.  "Been a long 
time since you did that before a show, Hiro."  He handed Hiroshi 
a glass of water, which had been left thoughtfully on the table.

Hiroshi took the glass gratefully, down a large gulp, then 
splashed himself in the face with the rest.  "What the hell do 
we do, man?  This is... I mean... THIS is..."

"It's Ultra," Daisuke said.  "It's bigger than before, but it's 
still Ultra.  We do what we've always done."

"Call the action," Hiroshi said, and in spite of his pallor, he 
felt himself smiling.

"Work the crowd," Daisuke added, returning his friend's smile.

"And give it everything we've got," Hiroshi finished.  He 
settled himself into his chair, Daisuke beside him, and wrapped 
his fingers around the stem of the microphone.  The 
amplification of his voice was not achieved through speakers or 
electronics, but he had a microphone all the same, and that gave 
him some measure of comfort.

"They're all yours," Daisuke whispered.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Planet Earth!" Hiroshi cried into 
his mike.  "Welcome to the Ultimate Arena!  Welcome to the 
Tournament at the End of Time!  And I have just one question for 
all of you..."  He took a deep breath.  "ARE YOU READY?"

There came the sound of wind, the sound of breath being drawn 
into six billion sets of lungs.

"ARE YOU READY... FOR SOME ULTRAAAAAAAAVIOLENCE?"

An inarticulate scream hammered through the Ultimate Arena, a 
howl of terror and wonder and affirmation from millions upon 
millions of throats.  They had been waiting, frightened and 
unsure, the tickets in their hands, dreading the coming of this 
day and yet looking forward to it with a deep, undeniable 
hunger.  Now, the time had come.  Now, their fates would be 
decided.  Now, Final Ultra would begin.

It made the noise in the UltraDome sound like a bursting soap 
bubble.

Hiroshi braced himself against the onslaught of sound, wall 
after wall of tangible clamor slamming into him and shaking him 
to the bone.  The noise seemed infinite, unimaginable, unending, 
and he let it flood through him, blasting all his fear away.  
This was what he was made for.  This was his place.

"All RIGHT!" he shouted back to the crowd as their shouts 
finally abated.  "My name is Hiroshi, and this is my partner 
Daisuke!  I speak for both of us when I say that we are PROUD 
and HONORED to be here in front of you all, bringing you what 
is, without a doubt the greatest spectacle that the world has 
ever seen!"

"And quite possibly the last," Daisuke noted darkly.

"NOT if these folks can help, it, my man!" Hiroshi cried.  
"Ladies and gents, may I now present to you the defenders of the 
world, the champions of our planet, the TEAM OF LIFE!"

This was one moment that everybody had been eagerly waiting for.  
Speculation had run wild and uncontrolled across the whole 
planet since the final images of Nabiki leaving with the Ultra 
team through Washuu's gateway had been broadcast across the 
airwaves.  The crowd leaned forward, all desperate to get a look 
at the handful of fighters upon whom the burden of their 
salvation would fall.

"And to begin," Hiroshi said, as the spotlights zeroed in on the 
entrance to the Life dugout, "here's the person you've all been 
waiting to meet, the Prophet of Life herself... Hakubi Mary!"

Mary emerged into the light amidst a storm of confused murmurs 
and incredulous gasps.  She had abandoned her referee's outfit, 
since that was no longer her place in the scheme of things, and 
had instead decided on a simple white dress for the occasion, 
along with a green headband to keep her hair out of her eyes.  

Daisuke noted the crowd's unease at the revelation of the 
Prophet of Life's identity.  "It looks like not many people 
expected Mary to be the choice."

"In the official Prophet of Life betting pool in Las Vegas, 
Nevada," Hiroshi informed them, "Mary was a longshot of roughly 
twenty-eight thousand to one!  Hey, buddy, even YOU were higher 
on the list!"

Daisuke blinked.  "What were my odds?"

"Four hundred and eighteen to one," Hiroshi said.  "Me?  I was a 
three hundred and thirty-five to one favorite!"

"You call that a favorite?" Daisuke asked wryly.

"Compared to Mary?  Yeah."

"Fair enough," the cynical announcer acquiesced. 

"Looks like our Prophet of Life has a few words to say to the 
audience," Hiroshi observed as Mary stepped forward, a 
microphone floating out of the sky towards her.  

Mary took the microphone, her chin held high, her eyes clear and 
bright as she looked over the sea of faces.  There was no 
tremble in her voice, no hesitation in her words.  Her 
confidence alone settled the unquiet audience, and brought an 
uneasy, anxious silence to the Ultimate Arena.  

"Most of you do not know me, and have no reason to trust me," 
Mary said to the population of Earth.  "But I know what is at 
stake.  I know my responsibility.  Each and every one of your 
lives is more precious to me than my own.  My soul is with you.  
My heart is with you.  And I swear to you tonight, no matter 
what is demanded of me in the course of this trial, I will not 
let you down."

A cheer arose from the crowd.  It was not a deafening roar by 
any stretch, but there was a sort of hopeful tinge to it.  They 
still didn't know her, but the sincerity in her eyes and voice 
had, at least, reached some of them.

"I want to introduce my team to you now," Mary continued.  
"They're the ones who will really be doing all the work, and to 
even come as far as they have is something to be proud of."

"This is what everyone's been waiting for," Hiroshi commentated.  
"Who will be the champions of justice?  Who will stand up and 
defend us from destruction?  The fate of the world hinges on 
Mary's choices!"

"The first tag team," Mary said, "is Jessie and James of Team 
Rocket."

The fashion-conscious Pokemon trainers stepped out into the 
spotlights, waving cheerfully and beaming at the crowd.  A 
careful observer would have noted a slight quiver in their step, 
though - even the popular duo felt the pressure of such an 
unfathomably huge audience.

A fairly hearty round of applause greeted them, though it was 
mixed with not an inconsiderable amount of dubious murmurs.

"How about that?" Hiroshi cried gleefully.  "Here to truly 
'protect the world from devastation' is one of Ultra's longest-
standing tag teams!"

"Oh great," Daisuke moaned, banging his head on the table.  
"We're doomed."

To his surprise, Hiroshi turned to him sharply, with a look that 
was both angry and somewhat hurt.  "Look, buddy, don't you think 
it's about time to drop this jerk-head act of yours?"

Daisuke blinked in surprise.  "What?"

"I mean, I know you've been getting back at me," Hiroshi 
continued, his voice a bit tight.  "Fine, that's cool, I don't 
care.  But maybe you can show a little support here for once, 
huh?  I mean, Jessie and James WERE your teammates in CHAOS, 
right?  Of course, so were Shingo and Sakura, but that didn't 
stop you from trashing them."

The normally laconic announcer felt at a loss for words.  
"Hiro... um..."

"I think things have changed here, my man," the pale clone 
pressed.  "And maybe it's about time you stopped sniping away at 
your friends, just to be contrary.  What do you say?"

Both Hiroshi's vehemence and the genuine pain underlying his 
friend's tone astonished Daisuke.  "Look... all I'm saying is 
that I'm worried about this first choice.  I mean, Jessie and 
James are my friends, okay, but look at their record!  They have 
a history of getting pasted by stronger foes and winning through 
flukes."

"Yeah?" Hiroshi replied.  "Well, when the world's at stake, I 
think we can use all the luck we can get.  And those two," he 
jabbed his finger towards the white-clad pair, "have got luck."

"Okay, okay," Daisuke backed down, his hands held out 
placatingly.  

Back within the circumference of the Arena, Mary continued her 
introduction.  "The second team is Tifa Lockheart and Bean 
Bandit, the Roadbusters," she told the crowd.

The applause which greeted Tifa and Bean was stronger and more 
confident as the two strode forth into the light.  

"Bean looks a little pale," Daisuke commented, still feeling a 
bit reticent after Hiroshi's unexpected tirade.  

"Yeah," his partner agreed, back to his exuberant self, "but 
check out Tifa!  Look at the determination in her eyes, man!  I 
don't think I've ever seen her so fired up!"

Indeed, Tifa Lockheart radiated grim confidence and a warrior's 
fire.  She took the lead of the two, Bean following slightly in 
her wake, and thrust both her fists into the air in a powerful, 
defiant gesture.  The crowd rained down its screams of approval.

Mary continued with her introductions, and Lina Inverse appeared 
next into the spotlights.  The red-haired sorceress wore a cocky 
smile and had a twinkle in her eye as she raised a thumbs-up to 
the crowd.  The assembled witnesses to the tournament roared in 
approval.

"A very warm reception for Lina," Daisuke said, his own voice 
somewhat relieved.  "I think we're all glad to see her on the 
team."

"You bet," Hiroshi agreed enthusiastically.  "There's one gal 
you don't want on the sidelines when the world at stake!  She 
was a heavy favorite with the pundits to be Prophet of Life, but 
maybe it's better to have her as a fighter instead."

"Could the Prophet of Life have been a fighter, too?" Daisuke 
asked.

"Dunno.  Xelloss didn't put himself on his own team, but that 
doesn't mean he couldn't have."

"Hmm."

Mary continued.  Next up was Akane, who drew a mixed reaction - 
in spite of her recent ascension through the ranks of Ultra, it 
still seemed a lot of people didn't really believe she had what 
it took.  Even greater unease followed the introduction of Ash 
Ketchum, whose recent descent into near-insanity had left the 
audience wondering how reliable he really was.

When the Great Yaga was introduced, the cheers had all but 
evaporated, and waves of discontented murmurs rippled through 
the assembled crowd.

"Yaga?" Hiroshi blurted, surprised.  "What the heck did she pick 
THAT guy for?"

"I thought you were going to be supportive," Daisuke said.

"Yeah... but... it's Yaga!" Hiroshi spread his hands in a 
helpless gesture.  "He's a total jerk!  A stuck-up, devious 
bastard, right?"

"Maybe," Daisuke speculated, "when the world is on the line, you 
want a devious bastard or two on your side, too."

"Huh."  Hiroshi scratched his head thoughtfully.

Li Ping got a few more cheers when he was introduced, but the 
crowd seemed anxious.  He hadn't exactly proven himself to the 
fans of Ultra as a consistent winner.  He seemed very nervous, 
and nearly tripped as he stepped out to be introduced.  

Following him, Marlo Semanj got a somewhat heartier round of 
applause.  Here, at least, was a known quantity, though the 
crowd did not greet with unconditional approval.  

"Geez, there are some strange picks on this team," Hiroshi 
muttered.  

"Starting with the Prophet herself, I'd say," Daisuke agreed.

But the strangest pick was yet to come.  When Mary announced 
Sagat's name to the crowd, Hiroshi checked his ears, as if they 
could somehow have malfunctioned.  But the bald, copper-skinned 
fighter stepped forward into the light, his single eye 
glittering hard and cold as he regarded the vast sea of faces.

"SAGAT?" Hiroshi cried, unable to contain his despair.  "What 
the hell is that girl THINKING?"

"He's tough," Daisuke provided, but he seemed pretty shaken too.

"So are a lot of people!" Hiroshi shot back.  "You want to put 
your life in HIS hands?  Oh, this is a bad dream.  It has to 
be."

"Supportive, Hiro.  We're being supportive," Daisuke mumbled, 
wiping a bead of sweat from his eye. 

The crowd was reacting much as Hiroshi, with shouts of outrage 
and despair crackling out like snaps of angry lightning from the 
general cloudy murmurs of uncertainty.  Sagat snorted slightly, 
his face full of disdain for the population of Earth, then took 
his place along his teammates in the dugout.

"I hope she has someone better up her sleeve," Daisuke said, 
noting the crowd's restless anxiety.

"It would be hard to get much worse!" Hiroshi lamented.  "I 
mean, Bison's already been taken by the other side, at least!  
Who's she going to choose now, Vega?  Charles Manson?  An undead 
version of Attila the Hun?"

But Hiroshi's pessimism turned out to be groundless.  The next 
figure that strode into view did so on feet the size of tanks, 
armored in indestructible Gundanium alloy, his steps sending 
great metallic echoes through the Ultimate Arena.  Shouts of joy 
and relief rose high into the air as Duo Maxwell popped the 
cockpit of the Gundam DeathScythe and pumped his fist into the 
air for the crowd.

"Now that's more like it!" Hiroshi bellowed.

Duo turned towards the announcer's table for a moment, and 
Daisuke gave his friend a salute.  "Good to see him out there," 
the announcer said.

The cheers grew even louder and stronger for the next member of 
the team, as the crimson and silver form of Ultraman, the Giant 
of Light emerged into view.  Long before MCTFF Ultra had ever 
existed, the Ultramen had served as protectors of the planet 
Earth from all manner of menaces from the stars, and people 
remembered.  Many of the onlookers who had never watched a 
single episode of Ultra stood up and shouted with joy, their 
hearts lifted by the sight of the familiar heroic form of an 
Ultraman amongst the ranks of the team.

But none of the cheering so far matched the deafening explosion 
of applause which burst through the coliseum as the Prophet of 
Life introduced the final member of her team.  Once upon a time, 
he had been a loser, the joke of the fighting world.  But trial 
after trial, he had stood before the deadliest foes and most 
perilous challenges, and somehow he always seemed to find the 
path to victory.  Pink gi resplendent in the light, mighty 
forearm flexing, manly tears flowing down his face... 

"YAHOOIE!" erupted Stone Cold Taunting Legend, Dan Hibiki.  "FOR 
EARTH!  FOR ULTRA!  OYAAJIII!"

Dan rolled and flexed and worked the crowd, basking in the 
adulation, a pink dynamo bathed in spotlights.  

"Well," Daisuke said as the applause finally began to die down, 
and Dan took his place alongside his teammates, "that's it.  
That's the team." 

"Good to see Dan out there," Hiroshi told his co-announcer, "but 
I have to say, there are some pretty weird choices.  Don't you 
think?"

"Maybe," Daisuke replied thoughtfully.

"I mean, where's Ranma?" Hiroshi continued.  "What about Shingo 
and Sakura, or Washuu?  What's the logic behind picking Sagat 
when you could've just called up Ryu?  Why not call out some of 
the real heavy hitters, like Son Goku or Ifurita?  I don't know 
if you noticed, man, but the bad guys have more Omega-level 
firepower than we do."

"I did notice," his partner said gravely.

Hiroshi shook his head, mystified.  "Very strange team that Ms. 
Hakubi Mary has put together.  I guess she's the Prophet of 
Life, though.  She can do what she wants."

"Yes," Daisuke said, nodding slowly as if Hiroshi had actually 
said something quite wise.  "You're right."

"Huh?"

"Well think about it."  Daisuke turned to his friend and leaned 
on an elbow.  "If it were you or me putting together the team, 
or practically anybody, we would have done things a certain way.  
There might have been a little variation, but the choices for 
the Life team seemed like they should be obvious, right?"

"Yeah," Hiroshi agreed.

"But if the choices were obvious," Daisuke continued.  "Then 
anybody could have been the Prophet of Life.  You, me, the Queen 
of England... whoever.  But the real Prophet of Life ought to 
know something that nobody else does, wouldn't you say?"

"Could be," Hiroshi allowed, a bit reluctantly.

"So the fact that Mary picked an unusual roster is not such a 
bad sign," Daisuke finished.  "Maybe it means that she really is 
supposed to be the Prophet of Life.  Do you see?"

Hiroshi cocked his head and thought about it.  "I guess I can go 
along with that.  Better than the alternative."

"That she's totally out of her depth and doesn't have the first 
clue about what she's doing?" Daisuke provided.  "You mean that 
alternative?"

"Yeah.  That one."

He nodded.  "Agreed."

A wave of violent boos and jeers interrupted their conversation, 
as Xelloss and the Team of Destruction made their way into their 
own dugout.  Since they had already introduced themselves at the 
last ReBoot, they didn't go through the same ritual as their 
opponents had.  Still, Xelloss took a turn at the microphone.

"Well, hello, everybody!" he waved cheerfully.  "My, what a lot 
of faces we have out there tonight.  So much energy!  So much 
excitement!  Why, it will almost be a shame to blow you all into 
sub-atomic particles when this tournament ends.  Almost."

The shouts of anger and rage doubled, and Xelloss beamed.

The tectonic voice of the Referee suddenly boomed through the 
Ultimate Arena, quieting every spectator, commanding all 

attention.  The stone mouth of the great gargoyle-like creature 
did not move as it spoke, and its words fell like chunks of ice 
tearing free from a glacial wall.  [The Time Is Upon Us,] it 
intoned.  [The Prophet Of Life, The Prophet Of Destruction.  
Upon Their Choices And The Deeds Of The Chosen Shall All Matters 
Hinge.  The Tournament Begins.]

A globe of heavy stone, more massive than the old UltraDome had 
been, rose up through the rock surface of the Arena like a 
bubble emerging from water.  It floated into the air, rotating 
slowly as it ascended.  A glowing line split it down the middle 
- one side was light, the other was dark, and runes blazed forth 
from the surface of each side.  The writing was no human 
language, yet all could read it and comprehend what it meant.

[For Life Stands The Great Yaga.  For Destruction Stands Johnny 
Cage.  The Conditions Are Standard.  The Setting Is The 
Borderlands Of Hades.]

At once, the Arena changed.  The featureless stone blurred and 
darkened, and the fighting ring seemed to grow.  Towers of onyx 
and obsidian knifed forth from the surface, ribbons of sizzling 
orange magma laced their way across the blackened earth.  It was 
a lifeless place of jagged pinnacles and maw-like valleys, a 
desolation of hard edges and cruel precipices.  

[The Contestants Will Come Forth.]

Yaga and the Undead Johnny Cage stepped forward from alongside 
their teammates out towards the ring which seemed to have grown 
to several miles in diameter.  They shifted, like figures moving 
in a dream, and suddenly they both stood on that ashen plain, 
facing one another across the black stone at a distance of no 
more than thirty yards.

"Here it comes, folks," Hiroshi breathed into his microphone.  
"Here's where it really begins."

The Referee spoke.

][ FINAL ULTRA MATCH #1
][ THE GREAT YAGA vs. UNDEAD JOHNNY CAGE
][ FIGHT!

Had they been knights or samurai warriors, they might have 
simply charged one another and begun their fight.  But whatever 
differences lay between Yaga and Johnny Cage, they were both 
entertainers at heart.  Yaga turned to address the crowd, his 
arms spread wide.

"The older fans out there remember well my days as wrestling 
champion!" he boomed.  "The younger of you know me as the 
premier title holder of NeoFighters, but may not love me from my 
days in Ultra!  Do not fear, ladies and gentlemen!  Do not 
despair!  The games we played in the UltraDome are set aside, 
and now is the time for true warriors to shine!"

The audience sent up a cheer, which was perhaps more dutiful 
than heartfelt.  'I will win their adoration,' Yaga thought.  
'Now, of all times, I will.'

Johnny Cage, his slightly green skin mottled by his 
comparatively brief stay in a coffin, clapped his hands slowly, 
mockingly.  "That was a great speech, old man," he drawled.  
"Yeah, baby, a real zinger.  You could be in pictures, you dig?"

Yaga drew himself up to his full imposing height and glared at 
his adversary.  "You should have stayed in your grave, Johnny 
Cage."

"And miss the big event?" Johnny replied, a wide grin on his 
bluish lips.  "Not a chance, pal.  I am a superstar, old timer!  
Nothing can keep a superstar down!  And when I say nothing, I 
mean... nothing!"  Hellish light flickered from the eyes hidden 
behind his expensive shades.

"We shall see about that!" Yaga snarled, deciding that the time 
for speeches had now ended.  He bull-rushed Johnny Cage, 
lowering his shoulder to bowl the smaller man over with sheer 
mass.  

"SHADOW KICK!" the Hollywood zombie shouted, launching into his 
trademark maneuver.  He hurled forward, foot extended, leaving 
behind a trail of shadowy snapshots (which, more astute 
observers noted, were tinged around the edges with crimson 
fire).  

The two fighters met, and the report blasted across the 
landscape like a cannonade.

Yaga felt himself hurling through the air, and was only vaguely 
aware that Johnny was also tumbling backwards away from the 
point of impact.  The veteran wrestler streaked across the 
blighted terrain - fifty yards, a hundred, two hundred and more 
- his body carving a rough trench through the dark stone as he 
traveled.

He should have been dead.  The kind of impact that could send 
him flying so far, so hard, should have shattered every bone in 
his body and left him as nothing but a red smear across the 
landscape.  Yet he was not dead... he was not even badly hurt.  
He came to rest in a crater of his own making, feeling a bit 
dazed but not much the worse for wear.  

Yaga looked back along the trail he had left in the soot and 
stone.  A runaway locomotive would have caused less damage, he 
marveled.  

"What... what's happened to me?" he said quietly, his voice full 
of awe.

"Holy shla-MOLY!" Hiroshi cried, his voice also full of awe but 
at a significantly greater volume.  "I see it, but I don't 
believe it!  That's the sort of crash you expect to see out of a 
pair of Evas, not THESE two!"

"Johnny might have increased his powers by coming back from the 
dead," Daisuke speculated, "but how did Yaga get so tough?"

"Hey, Ref!" Hiroshi shouted at the striped gargoyle, not really 
expecting a response.  "What gives here?  What's going on?"

To Hiroshi's surprise, the Referee replied.  [The Contests Shall 
Be Balanced,] it said simply.

"Balanced?" Hiroshi repeated.

"I think that means," Daisuke interpreted, "that we don't 
actually have to worry about an Omega fighter getting pitted 
against someone from Gamma.  It looks to me that while they're 
in the Arena, everybody fights at Omega level."

"Whoah!" Hiroshi belted.  "What do you make of that, folks?  
That puts a whole new spin on things!"

In the Arena, Yaga saw that his adversary had recovered from the 
impact as well as he had.  He rose from the crater he'd made, 
his head still whirling with the implications.  Strength coursed 
through his muscles and sinews, an indescribable sensation of 
godlike vitality that went straight to his head like a mug of 
strong drink on an empty belly.  He felt giddy, euphoric, 
invincible.  He lashed out and shattered a boulder with his 
fist, pulverizing volcanic stone into a cloud of debris, and 
laughed with triumph.

"CAGE!" he bellowed, his titan's voice booming across the 
blasted landscape.  "I'm sending you back where you belong!"

Johnny Cage hopped to his feet and brushed himself off.  "I 
belong in the spotlight, baby," he said, smiling his magazine-
cover smile.

"You belong in the ground!" the empowered wrestler thundered.  
He hefted a stone the size of a Cadillac into the air as if it 
were no heavier than a desk clock, planted his feet and hurled 
it towards Johnny Cage.

Cage struck a ready pose, waiting theatrically as the boulder 
tumbled through the air towards him, and at the last possible 
moment he thrust his hands forward in a motion like a softball 
player delivering a pitch.  "GREEN FLAME ATTACK!" he announced.

It was a well-known fact in Ultra that Cage's so-called Green 
Flame attack, his own ki-blast variant, packed all the kick of 
day-old root beer in a plastic cup.  At least, that had been the 
case before he had died and returned, before he had stepped into 
the Ultimate Arena.  Instead of the sputtering green sneeze that 
fans had grown accustomed to seeing, Johnny launched what looked 
like a comet of pulsing emerald power.  The projectile sizzled 
in a streak, distorting the acrid air in its passage, and 
slammed into Yaga's boulder.  The rock burst like a pinata hit 
with a Sidewinder missile.

"Feh," Yaga spat.  "Try THIS, then!"  

He scanned about for a moment, then settled for a rugged spur of 
stone roughly the size of a cotton plantation.  Bracing his 
legs, cords on his neck standing out with the effort, he 
wrenched the stone free of the ground and heaved it into the air 
above his head, then pivoted to orient on his target.  This 
would crush that pretender into paste, he thought with grim joy.

"Encore!" Johnny shouted.  "GREEN FLAME!"

The roaring blast of energy impacted with the giant mass of 
stone in Yaga's hands.  It wasn't powerful enough to destroy the 
colossal boulder, but Johnny's attack still took out a huge 
chunk.  Yaga lost his footing, felt hot debris pelt him and sear 
his skin, and barely managed to roll out of the way in time 
before the boulder he'd intended to crush his foe with crumbled 
and buried him in its wreckage.

The pain served to clear Yaga's mind a bit from the dangerous 
euphoria which had enfolded him.  Heightened powers or no 
heightened powers, he was at a disadvantage at a distance.  
Hurling boulders was very impressive, but obviously it wasn't a 
strategy that would yield anything against his fireball-chucking 
foe.  

'Stick with the basics,' Yaga told himself.  'You're stronger, 
tougher. The power levels have changed, but the dynamics are 
still the same.  Up close, your skills are superior to his.  So 
get up in his face and do what you do best!'

Unsurprisingly, Johnny seemed to be willing to keep things going 
at this distance.  He warmed up another energy blast, grinning 
at Yaga as he charged up a truly impressive attack.  Yaga held 
his ground, waiting for the critical moment, and the zombie 
actor finally threw his hands forward to unleash the Green 
Flame.  

The Great Yaga pushed off with his powerful legs, hurtling 
himself skyward and clean over the Green Flame.  He plummeted 
towards Johnny Cage, a battle cry ripping from his throat, and 
prepared to execute a fifty-story Elbow Drop on his adversary.

It would have been nice if that had connected, but Cage wasn't 
quite that stupid.  He skittered back as the great wrestler's 
body plowed into the dark terrain, shattering stone and kicking 
up a tower of ash.  

"Whoah," Cage muttered, shielding himself from the debris.

Yaga emerged from the dust, striding like a giant.  Johnny Cage 
was within his reach, now.  It was time to finish this charade.

Cage attacked with his Shadow Kick - Yaga grunted as he absorbed 
the impact on his forearms, this time braced against being 
slammed by the force of the blow.  He lashed out, missed, and 
followed up, pressing his attack.  Johnny was a bit faster on 
his feet, perhaps, but that didn't bother Yaga.  It wouldn't do 
to underestimate his adversary, but when it came to skill, he 
knew he had the clear advantage.

"And Yaga is putting on the pressure!" Hiroshi announced.  "It's 
all Johnny can do to keep the big guy off him!  Can he find some 
way to pull this one out?"

Daisuke looked at him in surprise.  "Do you want him to?"

"Er..." Hiroshi stammered.  "Oh.  Well, no, of course.  Sorry... 
just got a bit mixed up.  Heh."

Li Ping understood just how Hiroshi felt.  The young fighter 
watched the match unfold from the sidelines, within the dugout 
area of the Team of Life, and couldn't bring himself to believe 
that this wasn't some sort of bad dream.  His longtime adversary 
was facing off against one of his on-screen heroes... and he had 
to root for Yaga?  The very idea made his head spin.

"Yaga is showing his stuff," Hiroshi announced as the venerable 
wrestler caught Johnny in the face with a forearm smash.  "He's 
really starting to find the seams in Cage's defenses!"

"That isn't too hard," Daisuke noted dryly.  "Dead or alive, 
Johnny Cage sucks."

"I guess that's a given," Hiroshi agreed.

No, Li Ping thought, it wasn't a given.  Most people took it as 
rote that Johnny Cage was simply a loser when it came to combat 
and didn't bother to analyze the reason why.  Li Ping had 
thought about it long and hard, though, and he believed he 
understood.

It wasn't Cage's technique that was the problem.  The action 
hero had real moves, supple limbs, and an athlete's build.  He 
wouldn't have been able to pull off all his silver screen 
heroics without them - Johnny did his own stunts.  His punches 
were crisp, his kicks were sharp, and his reflexes were quite 
passable.  

The problem, Li Ping had realized, was Cage had no sense of what 
to do in a fight that wasn't choreographed.  He couldn't read 
his opponent's moves, couldn't plan a strategy.  Each fight had 
its own pace, its own rhythm, but Johnny Cage couldn't feel 
that.  He improvised poorly, he couldn't adapt, and he ended up 
getting creamed against real fighters because of it.

Li understood, because he had been that way at first, too.  A 
bunch of fancy moves and no clue what to do with them - that had 
been what he'd been like when he entered NeoFighters.  But as 
the weeks had past and Li Ping had tested himself in real 
battle, he had developed those instincts, honed his mind, and 
learned to innovate strategy in the blink of an eye.  Johnny had 
never taken that step.

'Which is why,' Li thought, a bit glumly, 'he's letting Yaga set 
him up.  All Yaga really wants is to get him into his grasp.  
And I think he's about to lure him right into a Suplex...'

This was indeed what Yaga was trying to set up.  He fell into a 
guard position, crouching a bit, and waited for Cage to try his 
predictable uppercut to get through his defenses.  The punch 
would leave the actor wide open, giving Yaga the chance to...

"Pull back!" came an unexpected shout.

Cage obeyed, dancing back instead of moving forward just as Yaga 
lunged for the grab.  Yaga stumbled forward, surprised, and felt 
Johnny's foot snap hard against his jaw, almost putting him flat 
on his back.

Yaga had recognized that voice.  His face burned with rage as he 
turned to the assembled Team of Destruction, his eyes focusing 
on his former partner, Mr. Satan.  

"You!" he snarled angrily.  "How DARE you?" 

Mr. Satan crossed his arms across his broad chest and favored 
Yaga with a tight, mirthless grin.  

"Looks like Mr. Satan's giving Johnny strategic advice," Daisuke 
informed the crowd.  "This could be trouble for Yaga - Satan 
knows his moves pretty well."

"Oh SATAN!" cried Hiroshi in anguish.  "Why, Satan, why?  Why 
have you forsaken us?"

Yaga turned back to Cage, eyes blazing.  "And you!  What's the 
matter, can't you win on your own?"

Johnny shrugged and smiled.  "Hey, he's just feeding me my 
cues."  And he launched himself at Yaga again, driving the 
wrestler back onto the defensive.  

Yaga rolled to his right, trying to capitalize on an opening to 
throw an elbow at Johnny's head.  Satan shouted at Cage to duck 
just in time, and Yaga ended up with a painful combination to 
the ribs for his trouble.  He attempted to set his foe up for a 
choke hold, but again Satan warned the actor, and Johnny evaded 
the attack, countering with a fierce right cross.  

Johnny Cage didn't have much instinct in the ring, but he could 
take stage directions like a champ.

'The trick here,' Yaga thought, 'is to outsmart Mr. Satan, not 
Cage.  Satan may think he knows all my moves, but I think he's 
giving himself too much credit.  Now...'

Yaga lunged forward suddenly, setting up for a transparent 
clothesline move.  As he'd hoped, Satan warned Johnny to duck, 
and the actor swooped under Yaga's outstretched arm.  The zombie 
Cage pivoted to follow up with a chop to the back of Yaga's 
neck...

And the wrestler caught Cage's wrist with a meaty smack.

"He's got him!" Hiroshi shouted.

Eyes glittering with triumph, Yaga spun and wrenched his 
adversary around, securing his grip and hauling Cage into a 
crippling submission hold.  He flattened Cage onto the ground, 
planting a knee in the actor's back, pinning him like a bug 
while putting himself in position to apply surgically precise 
pressure to Cage's twisted arm.

"And Yaga takes command!" Hiroshi trumpeted.  "I don't see any 
way out of that hold, do you?"

"No," Daisuke acknowledged, but he eyed the action dubiously.  
"But does it look like Cage is in a lot of pain to you?"

"Huh?" 

The undead actor squirmed a bit, trying vainly to get away from 
Yaga's iron grasp, but he was smiling rather than screaming in 
pain.  "Hey, old man," he drawled up at Yaga.  "Not bad, not 
bad."

Surprised and angry, Yaga wrenched Cage's arm harder.  "What 
the...?"

"I'm fighting in this gig to get my life back," Cage said, 
almost conversationally, "but there are some advantages to being 
dead.  For one thing, there's the matter of pain.  I still feel 
it, sort of, but it's like news from a distant country."

Yaga's eyes bulged, and on the sidelines, Li Ping felt a glimmer 
of recognition.

"Tap out, you freak!" Yaga snarled.  "Or I'll... I'll..."

"What, rip my arm off?" Cage offered.  "Yeah, baby, that sounds 
like a groovy plan."

With that, Johnny moved in the only direction that Yaga's hold 
would allow - into the pressure, wrenching his arm past the 
breaking point.  A sickening tearing sound filled the Arena, 
then with a ghastly burst of noise, Johnny Cage's arm ripped 
free from his torso.  Yaga staggered back, his eyes widening in 
revulsion.

Johnny popped to his feet, casting a bemused glance at the 
socket from where his arm had once hung.  "Only a flesh wound," 
he quipped with a grin.

Yaga cast the arm aside, grimacing in disgust.  "I'll tear the 
rest of your rotting limbs off, damn you!" he vowed.

'I remember now,' Li Ping thought on the sidelines.  Cage had 
been quoting a bit of dialogue, of course, from one of his 
movies.  It wasn't one of Li's favorites by any stretch.  
"Martial Arts Horror" hadn't ever really evolved into a proper 
genre, but Johnny had dabbled a bit with a few films which fit 
under that peculiar heading.  

"Return of the Putrid Damned, Chapter Three." Li Ping remembered 
the name of the film now.  Zombies and necromancers and stuff.  
Cage had played the hero, not one the zombies.  But the thing 
about not feeling pain was a line from the main villain of the 
film, Roger Mortis.  And the arm... if Johnny was pulling more 
than just dialogue from that movie, then that arm...

Cage struck a ready pose, and Yaga stepped forward, only to feel 
something like a steel bar wrap itself around his throat.

"The ARM!" Hiroshi cried.  "Oh MAN!  Johnny's arm is still 
moving, and it's got Yaga in a choker!"

"This is really gross," Daisuke moaned.

Yaga clawed at Cage's severed arm, trying to pry it from around 
his neck but having a hard time finding a hand hold.  Johnny 
danced forward, bounced a few kicks off Yaga's gut as the 
wrestler struggled, then pulled back as the big man finally 
hauled the arm away from his throat.  

The arm tore itself out of Yaga's grasp, hurtled through the air 
towards Cage, and reattached itself to his shoulder.  

"What the... what the hell," Yaga stammered, gasping.

"Hey, if you liked that," Johnny told the astonished veteran, 
"you're gonna really dig this!"

'Oh boy,' Li Ping thought, leaning forward.  'Is he really gonna 
do what I think he's...'

Johnny Cage reached down to his abdomen with both hands, sunk 
his fingers into the flesh of his belly with a sound like 
sausages plunging into a bowl of cottage cheese, and ripped open 
his own stomach.  An eruption of intestines burst forth, 
slithering towards the mortified Yaga like the tentacles of some 
unspeakable squid.  

"Oh my GOD!" Hiroshi screamed.  "I think I'm gonna HURL!"

Li Ping watched with sickening fascination as the intestines 
lifted Yaga off the ground.  In the movie, this terrible attack 
of the zombie king had been a laughably poor special effect - 
painfully obvious rubber tubes, some of which still had visible 
nozzles, had been coated with ketchup and mayonnaise and then 
thrown limply at the actors, who had done their best to wrap the 
coils around themselves while trying to seem like they were 
struggling to escape.

Johnny may have drawn his inspiration from that scene, but his 
attack was the real thing.  Ropy tendrils of human intestine, 
thick and glistening and pulsing, groped forth from the hole in 
his abdomen.  There were enough guts trailing out of his body to 
fill the bodies of two dozen men.  They writhed and twisted like 
constrictor snakes, wrapping themselves around Yaga's muscular 
form in ever-tightening coils.

The audience shrieked, and there came the sounds of many 
onlookers losing their dinners.

Yaga flailed and struggled desperately, but he had no purchase, 
no leverage.  His hands slipped off the greasy tentacles of 
digestive tract, unable to get a grip.  Blackness crept around 
the edges of his vision, and his struggles grew weaker and 
weaker.  

"I don't think Yaga's getting out of this one," Daisuke 
predicted glumly.  

Several seconds after the mighty wrestler had stopped moving, 
Cage released his grip.  Slick and gleaming with all manner of 
gruesome fluid, Yaga's body dropped to the stone in a limp heap.  
The intestines slurped themselves back into Johnny's abdomen 
like the cord of some unspeakable organic vacuum cleaner, and 
the Referee administered the ten count.

The Team of Destruction had claimed first blood.

"And that's a wrap!" Johnny Cage addressed the crowd as moans of 
revulsion, despair, and horror flooded over him.  "What, did you 
folks think I was gonna lie down and take it?  This chump 
obviously did!  So now, what do you think of the new Johnny 
Cage?"

Boos and sick howls of rage came as his reply.  Johnny soaked 
them up as if they'd given him a standing ovation.

"I'll take on any comers!" the undead actor boasted.  "This 
time, didn't even see half of what I've got in store for you!  
Powers from beyond the grave, folks, and that's not all.  You 
know the move that killed me, the one I was trying to learn that 
put me in my grave?  Well, I've mastered that sucker now.  And 
before this is over, someone's gonna find out what my secret 
technique is... the HARD way!"

The fighting ring of the Arena began to fade back to normal, 
flat stone, the blighted landscape of the borderlands of Hades 
dissolving into nothingness.  Johnny Cage absorbed a few more 
minutes of the crowd's loathing, and then made his way back to 
his team, grinning with triumph.

"Well," Hiroshi announced, his complexion still a bit greenish, 
"a strong victory for the Prophet of Destruction.  With the help 
of Mr. Satan and a gutsy last move, Cage pulls out the win."

Daisuke groaned.  "You can't help yourself, can you?"

Hiroshi shook his head, almost painfully.  "It's like a curse."

"Don't I know it."

"So, uh..." Hiroshi looked around.  "What now?"

[A Short Period Of Respite,] the Referee replied unexpectedly, 
making Hiroshi jump.  [Then, The Next Fight Will Begin.]  The 
luminous radiance in the gargoyle's great eyes dimmed down to a 
faint glow.

"Oh," Hiroshi said.  "Okay.  Well... take a break folks, but 
don't go away.  The Team of Life is down, but they're far from 
out, and we've got more matches coming your way tonight!"

- - - - - 

There was a sort of backstage to the Ultimate Arena, a waiting 
area behind each dugout for the teams of Life and Destruction.  
Yaga's prone form had been pulled back into that area to be 
revived by the medics.  Selphie Tilmitt knelt beside the fallen 
wrestler, flooding his body with healing energy.

Li Ping watched at a short distance, concerned and 
uncharacteristically gloomy.

The veteran fighter's eyes fluttered open.  "Am I..." he 
wheezed.

"You're okay," Selphie said.  "We cleaned the goo off you.  You 
lost, though."

"I know," he said, his voice raspy.

"I cast a Regen on you," the young SeeD told him.  "It'll heal 
you back up slowly, but it's healthier than some of the big 
cures in the long run.  Can you stand?"

She helped him to his feet.  His eyes fell on Li Ping, and he 
frowned.  "What are you doing here, boy?" he asked irritably.  
Losing always put him in a foul mood.

"Oh, cheer up, Mister Grumpy-gus!" Selphie told him.  "We'll 
bounce back, you'll see.  Nobody could've predicted that Johnny 
would do all those weird, gross moves."

"Actually," Li Ping said in a small voice, "I could have."

"What?" Yaga demanded sharply.

"Those powers," he admitted slowly, reluctantly, "are from one 
of Cage's movies.  It's kind of an obscure one, so I doubt 
you've seen it, but I guess..."

"You knew what he was going to do?" Yaga snarled, advancing 
towards the young fighter, "and you didn't warn me?"

"But I..."

"You heard Satan advising Cage!" the wrestler roared.  "Damn it!  
I ought to break your scrawny little neck!  Then maybe we could 
get a real fighter on this team in your place!"

"I'm sorry," Li said, wilting under the barrage.  

Yaga smacked the wall next to Li's head with an open palm.  
Outside the Arena, his strength had returned to normal - 
otherwise, his hand would have gone right through the stone.  
"You're sorry?" he hissed.  "We don't have room for 'sorry' 
anymore.  I've never liked you, boy, and I think you're 
deadweight on this team.  But this..."

"I'm not deadweight," Li said defiantly.  "I..."

"You have two choices," Yaga told him harshly.  "You can either 
grow up, or you can step down.  Let someone else take your 
place.  If you're going to cost this team victories by playing 
the immature little child, then we're better off without you."

The bulky man turned and stalked away down the stone corridor, 
his hands curled into tight fists.  

Selphie fidgeted nervously.  "Don't let it get you down," she 
said to Li Ping.  "He's just mad because he lost."

"No," the young NeoFighter replied, shaking his head.  "He's 
right."  Shoulders slumped, he shuffled back towards the entry 
to the Arena, where the next fight was about to begin.

- - - - - 
  
The Arena was still abuzz with the aftermath of the last fight. Everyone 
present or watching from all around the world were busy discussing the future 
of the universe. Hiroshi, on the other hand, had decided to alleviate his 
anxiety with his stance on the video game market in America.

"All I'm saying is, if they want more people in the US to buy into dating 
sims-"

"Hiro," interrupted Daisuke. "I think we're back on."

"Huh? How do you mean?"

[The Time For The Second Match Is Nigh,] informed the gargoyle.

"Oh."

[For Life Stands Duo Maxwell. For Destruction Stands Bulleta. The Conditions 
Are Search-And-Destroy. The Setting Is Planetoid 77A-6 In The Pleiades 
Sector.]

The great Gundam DeathScythe and the comparatively tiny Bulleta waited as the 
Arena began morphing itself again. This time, it shifted into the vast 
landscape of an unknown planet, definitely much too large to fit inside any 
orthodox building. The Planetoid much resembled its Omega Wasteland 
counterparts... except this one was equipped with a small river that ran over 
a cliff at the eastern end in a grandiose waterfall, and a giant crop of 
jungle-like vegetation.

"Wow, that's pretty impressive!" Hiroshi raised his microphone in salute at 
the gargoyle. "Props on that one, Ref!"

[There Is No Acting Stipulated For This Match,] answered the Referee. [Props 
Would Be Without Purpose.]

"Not very fun at parties, are ya?"

The Referee ignored this. [The Contestants Will Come Forth.]

Nodding in the depths of his cockpit, Duo marched his Gundam into the Arena. 
Likewise, B.B. Hood's lilting, singing voice marked her progress as she 
skipped along.

At once, both of them were seized in a briefly visible hold of some sort of 
force field, and then vanished altogether.

"Whoa!" belted Hiro. "What happened there?"

"Looks like the Search-And-Destroy part of the match presenting itself," 
Daisuke guessed.

A loud rumble shook the floor. The announcers, and everyone else in the 
world, were surprised to suddenly see the DeathScythe situated in a thatch of 
the thick crop of jungle. Its torso poked out of the trees like a sore thumb. 
It was waving its arms and torso weakly from side to side.

Great, thought Duo, flailing with the controls. I can barely move in here!

"Well, I think we've found Duo!" joked Hiroshi. "So now the question is... 
where is Bulleta?"

Realization dawned. Daisuke facepalmed.

"Wait a minute here!" shouted the more energetic clone. "If we learned 
anything from the last match... SHE'S going to have those souped up powers, 
too! You can't call this fair."

[I Call It Nothing. It Is As It Should Be.]

Daisuke spoke calmly into the microphone. "Well, this is the match, folks. If 
you're as pissed as we are, write to the Ref, not us."

The gargoyle showed no interest in this, and spoke again.

][ FINAL ULTRA MATCH #2
][ DUO MAXWELL vs. BULLETA
][ FIGHT!

Duo grumbled, still flailing with the controls. The jungle seemed to be 
actually grabbing the Gundam in some weird plantoid hug.

"It was probably the teleportation," he muttered to himself. "Got everything 
tangled up. Damn it, not even the thrusters are working! How'd THEY get 
clogged?"

Minutes were ticking by. Duo ran through some options, clicking buttons and 
pushing levers, talking to himself to alleviate the stress level. "Okay. I 
can either hop out and check the thrusters myself, or just keep flailing away 
like an invalid. Of course, the first choice would expose me to whatever that 
little girl's got up her sleeve, but I'm sure not making any progress like 
this."

"This isn't the most impressive match I've seen," sighed Hiroshi. "It's been 
three minutes and we haven't even SEEN Bulleta yet!"

Just then, the nearest camera focused in on some foliage. Daisuke nudged his 
partner, nodding up at the unfolding scene.

"What's that? I don't see anything—"

It took a second for the cameras to focus. When they did, most of the world 
wished they hadn't.

"Bulleta's... climbing up the side of the DeathScythe?" Hiroshi peered 
harder. "What's that in her mouth, a knife?"

"Looks more like a picnic basket," said Daisuke. "The usual one."

"Oh. That's not too bad. Never seen a picnic basket do anything to a Gundam."

"...I so wish you hadn't said that, Hiro."

They watched silently as the girl upended the picnic basket directly over the 
Gundam's thrusters, which were frantically attempting to take to the air. 
Neat little vials of unspecified liquid fell quietly onto the mecha, and 
before they could either roll off or fall to the jungle below, she produced a 
rocket launcher from her picnic basket and kicked off the robot in a 
backwards leap.

"..." was all the announcers could say. Bulleta giggled, and fired in midair.

Duo scratched his head, cursing to himself. "Damn it! Okay, at least I've got 
everything above the torso working, but if I don't free myself soon..."

The explosion rocked the big robot. Duo's head bounced off a few tidbits of 
circuitry. "What the hell?" he mumbled, shaking off the sudden haziness. 
Before realization could dawn, Bulleta launched another rocket, but without 
the nitro to back it up, the explosion wasn't nearly as bad. The robot jerked 
anyway, toppling a nearby tree.

"This is horrible," moaned Hiroshi. "He's getting totaled!"

"But the attack's loosened up the jungle," Daisuke pointed out. "Maybe he can 
manage to get onto a more level playing field."

"Gah!" shouted Duo, gritting his teeth against a third explosion. A small red 
light was flashing in his eyes. He toggled a switch frantically, and gave up. 
"And now the thrusters are out! All right, if I can't see you, I'll just have 
to make sure I don't miss ANYthing!"

The Gundam's shoulder cannons burst into activity, laying waste to the jungle 
around him. Trees tumbled and fell, uprooted or just totally demolished. Dust 
poured into the sky like a cloud and obscured his vision, but he wasn't about 
to let that stop him. As soon as the dust faded enough for him to see, he let 
the shoulder cannons die down. The area around him was a ring of felled 
vegetation with no trace of gun-toting little girls. He breathed a sigh of 
relief.

And then another rocket exploded against him, this time against his Buster 
Shield.

"Jeez!" he swore. Out beyond the jungle border was Bulleta, waving wildly 
with both arms and skipping from one foot to the next. If it hadn't been for 
the giant piece of artillery in her hands, it would have been the perfect 
Christmas card.

"That was sooooooo great!" she sang. "All those booms! Do it again, do it 
again!"

"Ugh." Duo mopped his brow, and marched the Gundam towards her. "I hate to 
use this thing against a little girl, but if she's powered up like Yaga and 
that ghoul, she should be able to take it."

He braced himself to fire the shoulder cannons again... but couldn't.

A moment later, three more rockets impacted against his shield. He grumbled, 
the Gundam reeled back, and he resigned himself. Holding his breath, he fired 
the cannons.

"Oooh," Bulleta breathed, watching the giant missiles heading her way. She 
held her picnic basket to her chest in awe. "That's so pretty! I wanna play 
too!"

She sidestepped the first volley, rushed straight at the Gundam to avoid the 
next dozen, and by the time the pilot had time to adjust, she was right at 
his feet, laughing and spinning in energetic circles. 

"Oh, man..." Duo sighed, and raised the Scythe. "Sorry, kid, but I can't 
forward not to."

There was a blur as the scythe descended, and a world-shaking boom as it hit 
the ground.

The dust cleared, the cameras zoomed in. Bulleta was nowhere to be seen.

The Scythe rose again. Duo peered at the ground, incredulous, then swung in 
an arc to check around him. Nothing.

Hiroshi gulped. "Wow. Did he just totally vaporize her body, or what?"

"I doubt it," Daisuke intoned. "For one thing, the Referee hasn't started the 
ten count. He probably sees something we don't."

Hiroshi looked at his partner warily. "Like what?"

The calmer announcer straightened up instantly, and leaned towards the 
nearest speaker. "Wait a minute. Listen."

The Gundam was clanking as it turned in place, not wanting to give the girl 
any ground. It was loud, but every so often there'd be pause before it 
started up again... and riding on the coattails of the grinding of machinery 
was a very faint humming. A very chipper humming.

Duo seemed to hear it at the same time. He took a moment to hone in on it, 
and ended up blinking at the blade of his Scythe, on which Bulleta was easily 
balanced. She was humming while she worked, placing small packages on the 
weapon. It was covered in them, and so was the Buster Shield.

"Wow," frowned Duo, "you are one squirrely little girl." He gave the Scythe a 
hard shake to dislodge her, and she ended up sprawled on the ground, coughing 
bits of dust out of her cute little smile.

"What did she just stick all over the Gundam?" queried Hiroshi, even though 
he really didn't want to know.

The cameras focused in on the Scythe. Daisuke's mouth dropped open. "That... 
is roughly enough C4 to blow open a continent."

"Oh," said Hiroshi, and hid behind his hands.

Bulleta wobbled to her feet, beaming. "Yay! Bulleta gets to play, too!" She 
raised her right hand, cutely clutching a detonator.

"Oh, MAN," Duo moaned, just as she hit the trigger.

Both Scythe and the Shield were blown out of the Gundam's hands, bursting 
into a number of jagged pieces and doing a fair amount of damage to the 
mecha's hands and circuity at the same time.

"Eep," cried Bulleta as the debris spilled towards the ground. She scurried 
around, speedily dodging and using her picnic basket as a shield, but still 
earned a few bloody wounds on one leg and shoulder. She blinked at them, 
wiped up a bit of the blood, and merrily licked it off her fingers.

Daisuke shivered. "That girl gave me the creeps since the first time I saw 
her fight."

"The Gundam is rearing back up," Hiroshi cried. "Don't worry, it may have 
lost three of its biggest assets, but it is definitely not out."

In the cockpit, the pilot was looking over the levers that didn't have 
glaring red lights next to them. "Guess it's time for the shoulder cannons 
again," Duo decided, and let fire.

Bulleta was less prepared this time, and the bloody slit in her leg impaired 
her ability to run. Her picnic basket managed to deflect the incoming 
missiles aimed well enough to hit her, although each one came closer to 
knocking her off-balance than the last. Gasping and wincing, she managed to 
make it directly between the Gundam's legs and out the other side without 
much damage, sprinting for clear ground.

"Wow," mumbled Hiro. "Looks like Arena boosted her speed a whole lot."

"She was always pretty fast," Daisuke said, thinking back. "For a girl 
carrying the world's artillery on her at all times, anyway."

As for Duo, the controls had been pretty badly damaged by the last explosion. 
The impaired turning mechanism made his revolution a slower process. When he 
finally swiveled around, he ended up seeing Bulleta situated very comfortably 
a few yards away, casually loading an anti-tank cannon.

"We've really got to find out where she gets those things," Daisuke sighed.

Wordlessly, Duo turned the turrets at the giant gun. Bulleta noticed the 
happy little toys of death locking in on her and gleefully launched her own 
weapon. The result was quick, deadly, and precise; the anti-tank cannon and 
the Gundam's own left shoulder turret exploded at the same time, throwing up 
a blast radius of several yards. B.B. was sent a few meters through the air, 
rolling to a stop and then kicking back up on her feet with the glee of the 
truly maniacal in mere seconds.

The Gundam pilot groaned, racing towards her and reaching for the Head 
Vulcan's controls. Bulleta met the charge, and barely dodged out of the 
blast's radius. "So many explosions," she wailed happily. "Bulleta WUVS you! 
You're her new favoritest-favoritest playmate!"

"That's swell, kid. Just what I wanted to hear," Duo grunted, and let loose 
another blast. Bulleta dodged again, but kept racing towards him.

"If she keeps up like this, he'll end up just running her down," pointed out 
Hiroshi.

"You'll forgive me if I say that's totally okay by me," deadpanned Daisuke.

There seemed to be mere seconds left before the girl was turned to paste, but 
she hadn't altered her course or drawn any weapons whatsoever. Then a sparkle 
hit her eye. Daisuke, who'd seen that sparkle before, gulped.

"Oh! I've got a great idea!" cooed B.B. suddenly, and leapt in the air to the 
general confusion of everyone. Something fell out of her skirt, something 
BIG, hitting the ground directly in front of the Gundam's tracks. The cameras 
locked in. It was a Sherman tank.

Hiroshi blinked. "I'm speechless. And that's really saying something."

Duo struggled to hit the brakes, but he wasn't in time. The Gundam and the 
tank collided, the impact sending both flailing through the air. The setback 
wasn't great; the DeathScythe skidded to a halt and was on its feet 
momentarily, but Bulleta had received the upper hand. She had whipped out a 
bazooka, and was firing shell after shell at the mecha. Its balance was 
broken, and staggered back a few steps, until it was teetering against thin 
air. Duo's eyes widened.

"Damn it," he growled. "She trapped me against the cliff!"

"This is bad," noted Daisuke. "That chasm's looking almost bottomless. 
Without its thrusters, if the Gundam falls..."

"How is it she never has to reload that thing?" Hiroshi wondered.

Vertigo had never greatly impressed the pilot. He pushed the controls hard. 
"Sorry, kid, but I can't afford to lose this one."

The robot rocked forward against the onslaught as much as he could force it. 
He wouldn't last long, he knew, but maybe just long enough to land one solid 
blow. He opened up his Head Vulcan and let fire.

Bulleta squealed with joy and re-aimed as she dodged the attack, firing as 
she landed. The first explosion didn't seem to have much affect, but the 
second and third did, and after the fourth it exploded altogether. Shrapnel 
spilled outward, a few edges snipping Bulleta's cheek and opening a sizable 
hole in the side of her bloomers. Her smile, against the pain was both 
heartwarming joy and sadistic lust. The Gundam rocked backwards... 
backwards...

Duo fought with the controls, gritting his teeth...

Just as the left foot was about to burst through the rubble and send the 
entire mecha over the edge, the Gundam won its fight with gravity and righted 
itself. Cheers were heard throughout the stadium as it made to rush the girl. 
Bulleta just pouted.

"That's no fair. I WANT you to fall over!" she grumbled, then began rooting 
through her picnic basket. Her face lit up, and without a word, she dashed up 
the giant robot. 

Duo watched her come closer and made a few swipes at the ground, misjudging 
her speed with the first. The second batted her totally aside, and she hit 
the ground face-first, her skirt and bloomers sprayed out around her.

"Oooog," she mumbled. "You weren't supposed to HIT me..."

Duo shook his head, matching towards her. The remaining shoulder cannon 
aligned itself with its target. The hesitation he'd been clinging to was by 
all means lost to the enormity of what losing would mean, and he wasted no 
time in firing.

He was, unfortunately, too late. Bulleta had managed to right herself, and 
had produced a Vulcan cannon of her very own. "It's just like yours! Isn't it 
beautiful?" she beamed, and fired.

Both attacks hit at the same time. Duo made to move the Gundam out of the 
way, but the blast was too quick, and knocked him soundly off the edge of the 
cliff. His missiles hit Bulleta, knocked her into the air again, and she 
landed in a disheveled heap.

Moments later, a hollow thump at the bottom of the cliff was heard. While the 
rest of the world held its breath, the Referee began the ten count.

"Wait, they're both down." Hiroshi looked confused. "Who's he counting for?"

"Both of them, I guess." Daisuke halfway envied his partner's lack of fear. 
His own stomach felt twisted with nausea. "Let's just hope this one's a tie."

[...Seven...Eight...Nine...]

It may have been the most dramatic moment of television. Bulleta rose to her 
feet, dazed and wounded, but still conscious. At the same time, a hand 
gripped the parapet, and Duo hoisted himself onto the cliff face. Cracking 
his knuckles, he grinned at his opponent.

"Guess it's hand-to-hand now, huh?" he called. "You ready?"

Bulleta blinked away the mental fuzz in time to see Duo coming at her. A chop 
and kick sent her flying, head-over-heels, all the way into the jungle 
foliage a long distance back.

Duo blinked, staring at his hands. "Whoa. I didn't realize I'd have Omega 
powers out of the cockpit." He grinned, and rushed toward the jungle. "This 
is the best news I've had all day."

"This match is definitely a roller coaster of emotions," narrated Hiroshi, 
arming sweat from his forehead. "Looks like there's still hope, folks!"

Duo arrived at the borders of the jungle. A few trees and swampy water were 
there to greet him. He took a few steps, peered into the dark corners of the 
foliage, and risked it all. He passed over the threshold and into the domain 
of the trees.

Instantly he caught a hint of danger out of the corner of his eye. Groaning, 
he leapt behind a couple trees and threw his arms over his head as the 
dynamite went off, bringing a row of trees down on top of where he'd just 
stood.

Standing, he wiped his swamp-drenched hands on his shirt. "Maybe this wasn't 
such a good idea," he mumbled... and blinked down at the little red dot 
hovering on his chest. "...Crud."

Lunging aside, the bullet buried itself in the tree next to him. There was an 
echoing "Tch," of the obviously annoyed, followed by the shuffle of 
relocating and the reloading of a sniper rifle.

"And this is where the Search-And-Destroy REALLY kicks in, I guess," Hiroshi 
bubbled, watching the Gundam pilot avoid a few more shots. "Let's just hope 
Duo can keep up with the dodging."

The smell of the jungle was cloying. The light was bad, and there was still 
dust obscuring his vision from the explosion. Duo tried to track her movement 
by sound, but everything seemed distorted, and with each shot she dashed to a 
new location. The one thing he knew for sure was that he had vastly 
underestimated this opponent. He wouldn't let that happen again. The red dot 
slid right between his eyes this time, and he felt the blurr of the bullet 
whizzing past his ear. Her aim was getting better. If he couldn't do 
anything, the next shot...

Then he heard it, the scrambling of feet to his left. He knew he could reach 
her, and as he made to run her down, his mind went into overdrive fueled by 
necessity. If he hit her, she would probably fly out of his reach again, 
since he wasn't fully used to this new power boost yet. And if he toyed with 
her, she'd definitely waste no time in offing him. A submission hold, he told 
himself. Come on, Duo, man, you can do this!

He was right on. She'd made a mistake or underestimated him, but whichever it 
was, she'd put herself within Duo Maxwell's reach. He gripped her by the 
cloak, dragged her to the ground, and made to pin her...

The light must have been in just the right position. It glinted perfectly off 
her face, pushing back the shadows of her hood, and revealed one of the most 
gleefully wicked expressions he'd ever seen. It held him back for just the 
moment she needed to flail at him, clawing at his face, pushing her shins 
into every part of him that seemed soft enough. A few bites landed about his 
body, and when she was on her feet, she gripped the barrel of the sniper 
rifle and whacked it violently across his face. It broke in two, and she 
tossed it away.

Hazy, wary, Duo glared at her through the gloom and his own pain. He was 
surprised the blow from the gun hadn't hurt more, but supposed it was a perk 
of the change in power levels. "You've got way too much spunk," he informed 
her. "You know that, right?"

B.B. nodded, her cutesy face back again. "Mm-hm! I could play just ALL THE 
TIME!" And he was suddenly staring down the mouth of a hose contraption, the 
body of it winding up and into her basket.

Whatever was going to come out of that thing was immaterial. Duo lunged aside 
in a roll just as some bizarre chemical whooshed past him.

"He's good at that," noted Hiroshi.

"I don't think she's aiming at him," Daisuke mused. "I mean, now she's just 
running around spraying trees. What is that stuff?"

Bulleta beamed, turning off the hose. "It's time to play tag!" she bubbled. 
"You ready?"

"Tag?" Duo grit his teeth. "Against you?"

"No, silly!" She slipped a match, already lit, out of her bonnet and tossed 
it into the trees. "Against the Napalm!"

The jungle exploded into light behind her. She was off like a bullet, 
lackadaisically spraying more of the chemical about her as she went. Duo was 
surrounded in wildfire before he knew what hit him, and took to his feet as 
well.

The heat seared at his back, smoke clogged his throat, blurred his vision. He 
coughed harshly, eyes stinging. He'd brought the collar of his shirt up over 
his mouth, but it didn't do nearly enough to keep the permeating smoke at 
bay. His chest seemed about to just give in, and he knew there was no way he 
could outrun the fire. He certainly wasn't as fast as the little girl, and 
the flames was raging all around him now.

Gotta calm down, he told himself. Recall what direction you're facing. You 
can't be too far from the side you ambled in on like an idiot. Just pray to 
whoever you pray to nowadays that it isn't totally in flames.

His mind offered up a makeshift map. Huffing and wheezing, he clawed his way 
through some vines to the left, keeping his mind busy. You can do this Duo, 
you've been in way worse spots before. And none of them offered failure at 
such a big price, either.

Still, it seemed pointless. Trees were burning and collapsing, and rings of 
fire burst up all around him. His vision was almost completely lost in a ring 
of deadly ash and smoke. He felt dizzy, and was about to vomit while running 
when he ran waist-first into a fallen tree. His hands hit it to vault him 
over, his body refusing to give up, when his thumb cut itself on the end of 
it. He paused, running his palm over the sharp trunk and ignoring the pain. 
The end of the tree had been severed!

This is it! his mind crowed. Just keep going, and you'll reach the area you 
started out in!

The realization gave him his second wind, and he plowed through the smoke and 
hungry flames with abandon, feet pumping wildly. Finally the air seemed 
fuller, and although his eyes were pasted shut against the smoke, he could 
hear the flames receding behind him. The burning branches at his feet became 
ash, and he could breath again.

Duo Maxwell fell on his knees and was sick.

"Excellent!" shouted Hiroshi all at once, drumming up some hearty applause. 
Daisuke winced, rubbing his ear. "He's made it out! He's okay!"

"Don't get too excited," grumbled Daisuke. "He's still got to take care of 
the girl."

Hiroshi blinked. "What do you mean? After he did all THAT, he's sure to win."

Daisuke just watched on, grimly.

Wheezing, Duo got to his feet. He wiped his eyes furiously, blinked until he 
could see, and then whipped about to put out the flames on his clothes. He 
frowned to see that his shirt was entirely worthless, burned completely 
through, and so were a chunk of his pants. A few fangirls took a moment to 
forget the fate of the universe and let out a simultaneous swooning sound.

"Well," grunted the pilot, "that doesn't happen to you every Ultra."

Then he stilled himself. In the distance was the sound of a whirring 
chainsaw, and Bulleta strode out of the smoke. Small flames licked around her 
body and picnic basket, but she didn't seem to notice.

"You're no fun," complained the girl, still walking. "You won't fall down. I 
want you to FALL DOWN!" Her first swipe accompanied the outburst. Duo ducked 
aside, and went in for a shoulder push that sent her sprawling.

"Sorry kid," he announced, "but Duo Maxwell isn't yours to play with."

"Grrrrrr!" Bulleta was back on her feet, shoving the chainsaw at him with the 
precision of a master swordsman. Duo kept just out of range, and despite her 
frightening skill with the whirring sawblades, he was feeling more and more 
in control of the situation by the moment. Raging fires were one thing, an 
opponent within reach was more his speed. "I'll play with whoever I WANT!" 
she shrieked, and lashed horizontally.

Duo ducked, slipped into her range before she could recover, grabbed her, and 
kicked the girl straight into the air. She blinked and groaned in pain, but 
managed to keep her hold on her weapon. The picnic basket sprawled out on the 
ground behind him, a few harmless cookies scattering about.

B.B. landed on her feet, and charged again. "You'll do what I SAY!" she 
shouted, falling into the same thrusting pattern as before. "You're MINE to 
play with! EVERYONE is! MINE MINE MINE MINE UGH!"

Duo's kick knocked her sideways through the air. He hurried to sneak in a 
follow-up move, but she had caught her fall and hurled herself up with feline 
ferocity.

Hiroshi whistled. "Man, she's like a tiger! A really savage tiger!"

"With a chainsaw," agreed Daisuke.

Tears were welling at the corners of her eyes as she lashed out again, 
shrieking her banshee chant of "MINE MINE MINE!" The attack was the same as 
before, and Duo had no problem evading. But he could feel himself tiring, 
which would be a very bad thing if this kept up much longer. He could beat 
the girl at hand-to-hand combat, but she unfortunately had more heavy 
artillery hidden in her arsenal than he could ever hope to learn.

A chop and a low sweep sentt her down this time. She was slower getting to 
her feet, stuffing her chainsaw into the ground for support, where it whirred 
and spit up dirt and roots. She spat, moaning through her teeth.

"You should just stay down," Duo advised. "Really. It'll make the hurting 
stop."

"Oh," giggled Bulleta. She'd lost her composure, and the giggle came out as 
something from a fairy tale gone totally and horribly wrong. "But I LIKE the 
hurting." And she had closed the distance before he could respond. He made to 
intercept her previous attack style, but this time she didn't bother with the 
chainsaw at all. Her weight carried directly into him, knocking him to the 
ground, and his head into a jutting rock. He might have passed out if her 
heeldrop into his stomach hadn't brought back his senses.

He saw her above him, chainsaw raised in preparation of a downward strike. 
His hands did the only thing they could think of; they reached back, grabbed 
the rock he'd landed on, and raised it to block. He was surprised to see it 
was the picnic basket, and was almost resigned to being skewered when the 
chainsaw and basket met.

Sparks flew, and the saw was deflected sharply. Bulleta stumbled back, lost 
the balance of the heel that had buried itself in his gut, and fell hard. The 
chainsaw spun out of her hands, whirred a bit more, and fell silent.

Duo grunted, wobbling to his feet and tossing the picnic basket aside. In a 
second, she'd be up again too, attacking with whatever bizarre accessory she 
dragged out of her skirt this time. His feet took control before that could 
happen, racing at her with abandon, ready to leap on her and hold her down 
for the ten count no matter how much she scraped and spat.

He was on her with time to spare, but too late realized that instead of 
getting up, she had put her fingers to her lips. She whistled shrilly, and 
out of the basket he'd haphazardously flung aside sprinted the form of her 
cute little blue bandana'ed puppy and a small swarm of butterflies.

"So that's where those went," Hiroshi murmured. "Makes as much sense as 
anything else we've seen tonight, anyway."

The dog leapt ferociously onto his back, pinning him to the ground, while the 
insects fluttered in tight circles around his head, clouding his vision. B.B. 
rose happily, her hands bunched up beneath her chin. "Awww! You guys came to 
help! Arigatooooou!"

"I think, after this, I can never be surprised again in my life," informed 
Daisuke with a shrug.

"Damn it!" swore Duo, grabbing at his back. He managed to finally take hold 
of the clawing dog and flung the beast off to the side, where it landed with 
a small yelp, and began swatting away the butterflies. Over the sound of 
their flapping wings and the low growl of the dog preparing for a second 
assault, he could discern a small sound. A humming.

He'd heard that once before in this match, and wasn't about to let it go 
unchecked again.

"Hum dee dum," sang Bulleta, "la la la... Making weapons is so much fun, la 
la la..."

Duo's foot knocked against something. He kicked the picnic basket back into 
his hands, and managed to swat the dog away in midair. He still couldn't see, 
but he could hone in on the girl as long as she kept singing.

"Hum hum hum, mass genocide..." A small click, and she looked up to see the 
mean boy heading for her. She grinned hugely. "You guys can back off now!" 
she called.

All at once, Duo could see again. And what he he saw was that he was heading 
straight into the barrel of a Stinger Missile Launcher. All he could was hold 
the picnic basket in front of him and hope it was as strong as he needed it 
to be.

Roughly six billion people watched as Duo Maxwell was blown yards backwards, 
tumbling over himself, and impacted the side of the fallen Sherman tank hard 
enough to force its side armor to collapse.

"You ARE mine to play with," Bulleta announced coldly, then went to rolling 
on the ground with her puppy and butterflies.

The Referee began the ten count. Hiroshi and Daisuke licked their lips, 
looked at one another, and then stared dumbly at their microphones.

"We'll... be right back," they muttered, and dropped their heads into their 
hands.

- - - - -

"Damn it!" cursed Lina. "This is NOT going our way."

Lina, Nabiki, Ifurita and Mary were staring morosely at the monitors. Outside 
their room, the medical team was swarming the halls, rushing to and fro to 
make Duo wasn't too badly injured. No one said anything, but the little 
Godhead felt the eyes of six billion Earthlings on her back.

She took a deep breath.

"We'll do better in the next match," she said.

"Yeah?" Nabiki gave her a glum look. "How do you figure?"

Mary shrugged. "Because we've got to, I guess."

The door opened behind them, and Krillin burst in. "Duo's going to be fine. 
He's healing up, already conscious, even. The Gundam's pretty much blown all 
to heck, though, and he feels pretty awful." The bald referee shuffled his 
feet. "Can't say I blame him."

"The matches this far weren't decisive," informed Ifurita. "The Team of Life 
still stands a chance."

"More than a chance," corrected Mary. "Look, if you're not out there 
fighting... just believe in the ones who are, and we'll win. I promise."

"That's... easy to say," Krillin mused. "Do you really feel that optimistic?"

Mary shook her head. "It's not optimism."

"Great, more pop psychology." Nabiki sighed and sat back. "Well, okay. I 
guess we don't have anything to lose by being hopeful."

Turning back to the monitors and waiting for the next fight to begin, Mary 
chewed her lip.

Things were a bit more charged on the opposite end of the Arena.

"I must say I'm impressed," Xelloss chirped. "I knew you'd make a fine 
addition to the team, Bulleta-san!"

"Wai! I liked the part with the explosions!" Bulleta singsonged. She was 
still shaking from all the excitement. "I've never been able to do anything 
like that before! I love this place!"

The girl had refused the offer of getting her wounds treated, but by her 
demeanor they weren't making her feel unpleasant. Yanking a microphone out of 
thin air, she began singing a victory song full of enough disgusting lyrics 
to make Xelloss blink.

He wasn't weirded out for long. He raised a glass of champagne he'd produced 
out of thin air. "I'd say our young teammate here has given us definite cause 
to celebrate."

"Weren't you the one who didn't want to let that girl on board in the first 
place?" Naga hissed into his ear, over the gruesome noise.

"Ah, Naga-san, there's always more to situations than meets the eye." Xelloss 
patted her arm. "Never take anything at face value."

"So you're saying yes, then."

The Mazoku allowed a sweatdrop. "More or less."

Naga nodded, folding her arms below her considerable chest. "Uh-huh. I 
definitely have to admit that she surprised me tonight, though."

"Ah, indeed. Lovely girl, isn't she?"

"And their blood will rain a shower of death!" Bulleta finished, dragging the 
last syllable on for what seemed years in itself. "Oooh, I love that song! My 
Grandma used to sing it for me before she put me to bed!"

"...sure is," agreed Naga, haltingly.

"And you know, I'll have to have her teach me that song one of these days."

- - - - -

Duo sighed. He was alone in the medical room save for a few doctors and 
nurses patching him up, and that was fine by him. All of his visitors had 
done nothing but make him feel like a total fowl-up, no matter how kind their 
words were. Both Sakuras, Shingo, Selphie, their encouragements and advising 
statements like "Don't let it get you down!" or "You'll do better next time!" 
only sank him deeper into depression.

At least Yaga had the decency to just look at him in disgust and walk away.

There was a monitor tilted in his direction, and he wanted nothing more than 
to turn it off. The next fight was about to begin, and he felt his stomach 
knot up in disappointment. He was an utter wreck, and his Gundam was all but 
totaled, because he'd been a fool.

There was a knock at the door. The head doctor looked at him for permission.

Just send them away, he told himself, but nodded at the doctor just the same.

Washuu Hakubi stepped in, looking at him with unfiltered pity. He watched her 
enter, expressionless.

"Well," she said at last, "you look like a mess."

"So I hear." Duo tried to at least give her a fake smile, but it hurt too 
much.

"Ah well, you'll live. Thanks to my latest in medical technology." Flopping 
into a chair, she glanced up at him. "You ready to hear the damage report?"

He paused. Of course not, he growled at her mentally. How could I be? But, 
again, he nodded.

"It's basically dead. Some of it can be salvaged, but it really took it 
hard." Washuu watched him, brow raised.

He opened his mouth, winced against the pain, and tried again. "So... it's 
totaled? I killed my own Gundam?"

"I wouldn't say YOU killed it, so much as the psycho with the bazooka, but 
it's the same outcome." She looked at him, grimly. "Sorry, but it'll never be 
the same."

He sighed, and closed his eyes. "There's nothing you can do?"

Washuu allowed a grin. "Me? The greatest mind the galaxy? Of course there 
is!"

Duo's eyes popped open. "Eh? But you said-"

"That it would never be the same." She paused. "Look. Why do you have that TV 
on?"

He followed her gaze. "Huh? 'Cuz... what kind of question is that?"

"You just lost a battle to save all the universes that were pulled together," 
she reminded him bluntly. "You've GOT to want to turn that thing off."

He shrugged, hesitantly. "I do. I guess. But that's not really the point 
here."

Washuu mused on this, then said, "No, it's not, is it?" Nodding simply, she 
pulled a few blueprints out of some handy dimension and tossed them onto his 
lap. He blinked down at them. 

"Is this-"

"I've been looking over your Gundam's design," she cut in. "I can perk it up 
as per those blueprints by the next tournament without breaking a sweat."

"Wow," he said. Then he furrowed his brow, looked over at her. "You really 
think it'll matter?"

"Of course it will," she scoffed. "You really should get over yourself. You 
didn't lose the tournament, you lost a match. There WILL be others."

"I guess that's true," agreed Duo. "And I promise I won't lose the next one."

"That'd be adequate compensation for the labor, I think." Washuu stood. 
"Well, I've got things to do. Catch you later, pilot."

She was at the door when Duo stopped her. "Hey," he said. "What do you call 
this thing?"

"The DeathScythe Hell Custom," she answered. "Catchy enough?"

He thought it over, and grinned. "Absolutely."

- - - - - 

The eyes of the gargoyle Referee stirred from their dim, 
quiescent glow and began to blaze.  "I think that's the signal," 
Hiroshi told the crowd.  "So hold onto your seats, ladies and 
gents, because it's time for our next match!  Ref, give us the 
news - who's up to bat?"

[Nobody Is Up To Bat,] the Referee intoned.  [No 
Baseball/Softball Stipulation Has Been Set For This Fight.]

"Rather literal, isn't he?" Hiroshi grumbled.  "All right, then 
could you please tell us who the fighters are?"

[The Time For The Third Match Is Nigh,] the gargoyle boomed.  
[For Life Stands The Team Of Bean Bandit And Tifa Lockheart.  
For Destruction Stands The Team Of Haohmaru And Morrigan 
Aensland. The Conditions Are Tag-Team Standard.  The Setting Is 
Central Park, New York Of Planet Earth.]

The rune-covered globe arose into the sky, and the stone of the 
Arena shifted and mutated, transforming into a perfect replica 
of a section of Central Park roughly fifty yards on each side, 
hemmed in by the grey ropes which delineated the boundary of the 
ring.  It looked as if someone had sectioned off a chunk of the 
park in the same way one might have sliced a square off a sponge 
cake.  A cement jogging path ran under an old stone bridge, 
lined with lamp posts on either side.  Trees swayed in a gentle 
breeze that none of the audience could feel, and sunlight from 
somewhere unseen illuminated the green grass.

[The Contestants Will Come Forth.  Who Shall Stand First?]

"ENLIGHTENMENT!" bellowed the bronchi of the mighty Haohmaru, 
the samurai of legendary blade and even more legendary hair.  
"FORTH SHALL I STRIDE INTO BATTLE!  LET MY BLADE SING FOR 
VICTORY!"  His partner, the sultry succubus, Morrigan, seemed 
more than willing to let him take the first round.

On the other side of the ring, Tifa and Bean had made their way 
to their corner.  Bean Bandit swallowed hard as he surveyed the 
eye-twisting spectacle that was the crowd - there were so many, 
so damned many...

"You okay?" Tifa asked, putting a hand on his armored shoulder.  
"You want me to go first?"

"Nah, babe," he said, his voice not as confident as he would 
have liked.  "Gotta get used to it sometime.  Might as well be 
now."  He turned to the Referee and cleared his throat.  "I'm 
first, okay?"

The two warriors faced one another across the ring, with its 
perfect imitation of Central Park between them, and the 
Referee's voice echoed through the Ultimate Arena...

][ FINAL ULTRA MATCH #3
][ BEAN BANDIT AND TIFA LOCKHEART vs. HAOHMARU AND MORRIGAN 
AENSLAND
][ FIGHT!

Haohmaru began as he always did - pontificating at the top of 
his lungs.  "AND SO, DID THE GREATEST WARRIOR OF ANY GENERATION 
STEP FORTH INTO BATTLE!  MIGHTY WERE HIS SINEWS AS THEY FLEXED!  
SPARKLING WAS HIS LEGENDARY BLADE AS HE DREW IT FORTH!  
RIGHTEOUS WAS HIS CAUSE AS HE STRODE TO BATTLE!"

Bean spluttered, so shocked that he momentarily forgot his 
nervousness.  "Righteous?" he repeated incredulously.  "Your 
team's out to destroy the world!  How the hell do you call that 
'righteous?'"

"DESTROY?" Haohmaru orated.  "SUCH AN IGNORANT WAY OF LOOKING AT 
IT, BEFITTING AN OAFISH THROWBACK LIKE THYSELF!  THIS WORLD 
SHALL BE UNMADE AND REMADE ANEW!  THE WORLD I SHALL BRING FORTH 
INTO BEING WILL BE THE WORLD AS IT SHOULD BE!"

"What the hell?" the American driver gaped.

"A NEW WORLD, WITH THE GLORY OF ANCIENT TIMES REBORN!" Haohmaru 
enthused.  "WHERE THE WORTH OF THE SAMURAI IS NOT FORGOTTEN!  
WHERE PROWESS WITH THE BLADE IS THE TRUE MARK OF A MAN!  WHERE 
THE GREATEST WARRIORS ENJOY THE FINEST LUXURY SUITES, THE MOST 
SUMPTUOUS STEAK DINNERS, AND THE MOST OPULENT ENDORSEMENT 
CONTRACTS!"

Hiroshi cocked his head at the announcer's table.  "Sort of a 
capitalist-samurai fantasy world, I guess," he mused.  "Only 
Haohmaru would think of something like that."

"INDEED, ONLY FROM THE LEGENDARY BRAIN WITHIN MINE OWN MOST 
HONORED SKULL COULD SUCH A BRILLIANT VISION UNFOLD!" Haohmaru 
agreed.  "BUT FIRST, THE BATTLE MUST BE WON!  FORTH CAME HIS 
FOE, WITH HIS DULL BEADY EYES GLOSSED OVER AND HIS KNUCKLES 
SCRAPING THE GROUND!  THE LEGENDARY HAOHMARU FELT NO FEAR, ONLY 
THE JOY OF IMMINENT VICTORY!"

Bean Bandit pounded a fist into his palm.  "I'll scrape my 
knuckles against something, you pompous ass!"

"AND THUS THE BATTLE WAS JOINED!" the spiky-headed samurai 
narrated.  "RESSHIN-ZAN!"  

Haohmaru launched himself into a hundred-foot leap with the ease 
of a man stepping over a stack of matchbooks, hurtling through 
the air towards Bean Bandit with his sword raised high and 
pulsing with ki-energy.  The speed of the attack caught the 
Roadbuster by surprise, and he barely had time to cross his arms 
above his head to block the cut.

A shockwave spread out from Bean's feet as the force of the blow 
jarred its way through his body, creating networks of fissures 
along the concrete-lined path upon which he was standing.  
Leaves blew from the surrounding trees, buffeted by the force of 
the blow.  Bean grunted, but was not badly hurt - his armor had 
become far stronger the moment he stepped into the ring.

The burly American shoved the samurai away, then threw a punch 
towards his loudmouthed foe.  Haohmaru caught it on the guard of 
his sword, but the force of Bean's attack sent him skidding back 
across the grass and dirt, kicking up clumps of sod as he went.

"You like swingin' big pieces of metal around?" Bean snarled.  
"How about THIS?"  With that, he reached over and pulled a 
nearby lamp post up from its concrete foundations with one hand.  
He flipped it around in his grip, readying it with the heavier 
base facing outward, and advanced.

"Looks like Bean IS up to bat after all!" Hiroshi noted 
gleefully as Bean adopted a slugger's pose.  "And I think he 
wants to hit Haohmaru out of the park!"

"Okay, you can give it a rest now," Daisuke told his partner.

The Roadbuster unleashed a mighty swing towards his adversary, 
powering the lamp post through the air with terrifying force.  
Haohmaru raised his sword and deflected the blow with ease, 
redirecting the momentum with practiced fluidity so the 
murderous power of Bean's attack veered harmlessly over his 
head.

The swing left Bean wide open.  Haohmaru rushed in and creamed 
him with his blunted sword in the gut, then followed up with a 
brutal shot to the head.  The American staggered back.

"WHAT FOOLISHNESS!" Haohmaru mocked.  "HIS ADVERSARY BRANDISHED 
A WEAPON OF HIS OWN, SEEKING TO APE THE MIGHTY HAOHMARU'S OWN 
SWORDPLAY IN HIS CLUMSY MOCKERY!  THUS DID HE SEEK TO BEST THE 
LEGENDARY SAMURAI AT HIS OWN GAME, AND THUS DID HE FIND HIMSELF 
UPON THE RECEIVING END OF A LORDLY SMACKDOWN!"

'Well when he puts it that way,' Bean though ruefully, 'I guess 
it was kind of stupid.'  He tossed aside the lamp post and 
stepped forward, his fists clenched.  

Haohmaru was too fast, and Bean was still recovering from the 
hits he'd taken.  The samurai stepped under the brawler's 
roundhouse and unloaded with a swirling, rising strike - his 
famous Crescent Moon Slash. "SHIPPU-KOGETSU-ZAN!" he cried.

The blow slammed Bean Bandit clear off his feet and sent him 
sliding across down the jogging path, ripping up sheets of 
sidewalk concrete and sending mounds of earth hurtling in waves 
to either side.  He had barely enough time to register Tifa 
telling him to watch out when his head collided with something 
hard and metal.

"Fire hydrant!" Hiroshi cried.  "Oh boy, that means..."

Water erupted from the shattered hydrant, dousing Bean.  He felt 
himself suddenly begin to change...

Bean Bandit's new cursed form, a 1991 Corvette ZR1, honked its 
horn menacingly at Haohmaru.  

"HA HA HA HA HA!" the samurai laughed heartily.  "IT IS TO 
LAUGH!  THE NOTION THAT SUCH A GADGET OF IRONMONGERY AND 
CLOCKWORK COULD STAND AS A WORTHY FOE FOR THE LEGEND... EH?"

The headlights of the car flipped around, revealing a pair of 
machine gun turrets.  They trained their barrels on Haohmaru and 
opened fire.

"Whoah!" Hiroshi cried gleefully as the samurai ran for cover.  
"Looks like the power-up effect of the Arena includes Bean's 
cursed form, too!"  

"AH!" Haohmaru shouted.  "SURPRISING, YET INVIGORATING!  BUT LO, 
THERE IS AN OBVIOUS WEAKNESS!"  He leaped into a tree, and the 
bullets from the twin cannons shredded the wood of the trunk 
below.   "OBSERVE!  THE WEAPONS CANNOT AIM FAR ABOVE GROUND 
LEVEL!"

This was indeed true - the firing arc of the headlight guns was 
limited.  However, Bean could feel a number of other options 
presenting themselves.  A section of the roof of the car opened, 
flipped around, and produced bristling missile launcher.

"YIPE!" Haohmaru uttered ignominiously as a swarm of guided 
warheads hurtled his way.  He tried to deflect them with his 
sword, but explosions buffeted his muscular form into the air 
and around the ring.  He thudded to the ground after the barrage 
had spent itself, smoldering from the impacts.

Bean's engine revved.  The front bumper flipped around, 
transforming into something that looked like an asphalt grader.  
The tires squealed, jet-thrusters flared to life from beneath 
the tail lights, and the living corvette roared towards 
Haohmaru.

But he'd underestimated the toughness of the samurai.  The 
bristle-haired warrior rose, oriented on his foe, and swung his 
sword in a mighty arc.  "SENPU-RETSU-ZAN!" he thundered.  

There was nothing miniature about the tornado which issued from 
Haohmaru's sword tonight.  The meteorologists in the audience 
would have rated it as a strong Class Three.  It streaked 
towards the oncoming car, catching it within its swirling grasp 
and hurling the vehicle high into the air, tumbling and twisting 
along a steep vector.  The super-powered car that was Bean 
Bandit plummeted towards the earth once the tornado had thrown 
it clear, smashing into the grassy surface of the mock Central 
Park.

Bean was not as badly hurt as he'd feared - in the Arena, his 
car body was now made of something far tougher than titanium - 
but there was another problem.  He had landed upside-down.

"WELL STRUCK!" Haohmaru congratulated himself.  "AND THUS, 
VANQUISHED WAS THE FOE OF THE LEGENDARY WARRIOR!"

Bean was desperately afraid that the blowhard was right.  He 
mentally checked the car's new inventory - parachute, aquatic 
mode, missiles, chain gun, rail cannon - all manner of weapons 
and options revealed themselves to him, but there was nothing to 
actually flip him back right-side up.  

The Referee began the ten-count.

'Damn it!  This can't be happening!' Bean thought angrily, and 
then he noticed something.  Flipped over though he was, he was 
still more or less oriented towards his corner.  He mentally 
called his thrusters to life, flaring the booster rockets for 
all they were worth. 

The car skidded along the ground erratically, but he had enough 
control over his thrusters to guide him toward the edge of the 
ring.  The nose of the upended car rammed into the corner, 
wedging into place.  Tifa smacked one of his tires with her 
outstretched hand.

'Go get 'em, babe,' he thought wearily, feeling humiliated and 
drained.  He didn't have eyes in his car form, but he still 
"saw" through the front windscreen, as if he were driving.  
Oriented as he was, he could only watch the dirt in the corner 
of the ring.  He couldn't even see his partner, his beloved, 
fighting.  'This sucks the big one,' he thought angrily.

Tifa Lockheart stepped forward to battle.

"All right, you bastard," she said in a low, dangerous voice.  
"My turn."

Her belt glistened with the multi-hued shades of her Materia.  
More Materia glowed from the inset slots of the Premium Heart, a 
pair of gauntlets as powerful in its own way as Sephiroth's 
deadly Masamune.  The air shimmered with ancient magical energy 
as Tifa passed.  The Materia she wore into battle this time were 
not the humble baubles she'd taken into Ultra before.  These 
were the Master Materia, crystals of immeasurable power, housing 
within their translucent depths the wisdom of the long-dead 
Ancients and the distilled the life force of the planet itself.  

Tifa didn't need the Ultimate Arena's power-up effect.  She had 
it covered all by herself.

"AND SO CAME FORTH THE NEXT OF MIGHTY HAOHMARU'S FOES!" the 
samurai chronicled.  "AMPLE 'TWAS THE BOSOM OF THE MISGUIDED 
MAIDEN, BOBBING PROUDLY AND FETCHINGLY IN THE LIGHT OF THE SUN.  
YET NOT AT ALL DID THE WOMANLY DELIGHTS BEFORE HIS EYES DISTRACT 
THE GREATEST SAMURAI OF ANY AGE, FOR HIS THE COURSE OF HIS HEART 
WAS FIRM AND RIGID, AND..."

Tifa ignored this blather as she approached.  "BIG GUARD!" she 
incanted as she close the distance.  One of the golden Materia 
on her gauntlet flared with light, and layers of powerful 
defensive barriers enfolded her body.  She also began to move 
twice as fast.

Haohmaru readied his blade.  "AND THEN THEY CAME TOGETHER, 
CLUTCHED IN THE EMBRACE OF BATT...UHH!"

Tifa Lockheart, former member of Avalanche, moved like the wind 
itself.  She slipped past the samurai's guard as if it weren't 
there, cracking him across the jaw with a savage cross.  Energy 
sparked and hissed at the point of impact, searing Haohmaru's 
skin.  She followed up with a blinding kick to the gut.  This 
time, an even more powerful surge of magic flared from the hit.

"ACK!" bellowed the samurai.  "WHAT MADNESS IS THIS?  MINE EYES!  
I CAN NO LONGER SEE!"

"She blinded him?" Daisuke asked.  "With a kick to the stomach?"

"Unless I miss my guess," Hiroshi informed his partner and the 
crowd, "Tifa's got her Materia rigged so that magical curses and 
stuff sometimes fire off when she hits.  She's doing more than 
physical damage to Haohmaru out there, folks!"

"She's taking him apart," Daisuke noted, his voice betraying 
more than a hint of pleasure.

Indeed, Tifa was sticking it to the hapless samurai.  He 
thrashed wildly at her with his sword, but he was blinded and 
hurting, and she was as sharp as a razor tonight.  Another crack 
to the temple, and he felt sickness surging through him, sapping 
his strength.  An axe-kick to the collarbone, and he felt 
utterly disoriented.

"TRICKERY!" he howled, wobbling confusedly as Tifa slammed him 
with another savage punch.  "WHAT MANNER OF TRic.."

His mouth kept moving, but no sound came out.  He clutched at 
his throat.  The crowd roared in joy.

Tifa took a moment to savor this.  "Silence," she breathed.  
"Blessed Silence.  I should have hit you with that one ages 
ago."

It was a mistake to let her guard down, even as damaged as her 
foe was.  Haohmaru thrashed desperately with his sword, a wild 
and random stab towards the sound of his foe's voice, but 
fortune was with him.  A surprised Tifa Lockheart caught the 
blow on her arm, powerful enough to hurt her even through her 
formidable defensive barriers.  She countered instinctively, 
lashing out with a kick to Haohmaru's chest that sent the 
samurai tumbling away like a rag doll.

He landed in his corner.  Morrigan tagged the flailing, helpless 
warrior and stepped into the ring.

Tifa's lips twitched in a slight frown - that had been clumsy of 
her.  'No help for it now,' she thought.  'I'll just have to 
take down the succubus, too.'

The demoness hovered over the grass on her bat-like wings, 
swaying her hips in a sort of slow, sultry dance.  "That was 
very handily done, my dear," Morrigan purred.  "You surpass my 
expectations."

"I couldn't care less about your expectations," Tifa shot back.  

"Oh, but you should," the succubus breathed back huskily.  "You 
should.  When I get my own world, it shall be a new sort of 
Hell.  A sanctuary of pleasure as much as pain, with rich 
rewards for those who please me, and appropriate punishments for 
those who are... well, not naughty enough."

"I figured it'd be something like that," the former Avalanche 
member scoffed. 

"Xelloss informs me that I can choose a handful of people to 
take with me into my new domain," Morrigan hummed, licking her 
lips.  "A few souls, those who entertain me, those who stimulate 
my interest."  She turned and faced the audience, sweeping her 
hands wide.  "Do you hear that, lowly worms?  A few of you may 
be spared!  You might even be as royalty in my new domain, if I 
favor you enough!"

Murmurs of unease and uncertainty rippled through the audience.  
Tifa narrowed her eyes and frowned.  Some people would believe 
her, she thought.  Some people would believe anything. There 
were always those who would be selfish and foolish enough to 
follow the path of evil.  'But they'll be less interested in 
following THIS bitch,' she thought, 'after I paste her all over 
this Arena.'

"And you," Morrigan said with smug delight, pointing one slender 
finger at Tifa.  "I may have a place for a toothsome delight 
like you, my darling.  A chamber of dreams and desires, where 
you and your strapping beefcake of a man might reside in endless 
nights of glory, if you but concede the match and give yourself 
to..."

"COMET 2!" Tifa shouted, thrusting her hands forward.  She'd had 
quite enough of this skank's crap.

Morrigan shrieked and began to frantically weave and dodge away 
from the blazing chunks of stone that hurtled from the sky 
towards her.  Explosions of force battered her mercilessly, and 
even the near misses seared her with their fury.

"Is there some sort of entrance exam to be a succubus?" Tifa 
taunted as the comets rained down.  "How did you pass?  You're 
the worst temptress I've ever seen!  You couldn't tempt a drunk 
to take a crate of bourbon!"

Morrigan's feminine features twisted into a scowl of fury.  "You 
had your chance, you cheap gutter-tramp!"  She gathered swirling 
masses of dark energy around her.  "SOUL FIST!" she shrieked.

A writhing projectile of crackling black energy lanced towards 
Tifa.  She braced herself and wove her hands through the air, 
ribbons of energy streaming along the path her Materia traced.  
"Quadra Magic... FLARE!"  

Bursts of magnesium-bright fire issued forth from her 
outstretched palms.  The first caught the Soul Fist mid-flight, 
negating the attack with a colossal explosion.  The next three 
Flares streaked towards Morrigan, who dodged and covered up the 
best she could beneath the barrage.  

The succubus gathered her strength, summoning clouds of black 
bats from the air and sizzling with bristling snaps of dark 
lightning.  "SOUL ERASER!" she cried.  Cannon-like 
manifestations of dark power shimmered into being, orbiting her 
in dizzying arcs, the largest of them appearing in her own 
hands.  The barrels of the eldritch cannons flared with scarlet 
energy.

"REFLECT!" Tifa barked as the beams streaked towards her.  The 
enchanted barrier formed before her.

"Oh HELL!" Morrigan hissed.  She threw herself aside as the 
beams of her own attack lacerated the air around her, slicing 
through tree branches and carving huge arcs into the earth.  

"Look at Tifa go!" Hiroshi trumpeted gleefully.  "That girl is 
taking Morrigan to the cleaners!"

"I think the difference here," Daisuke analyzed, "is that Tifa 
is used to operating at this power level.  Morrigan, Haohmaru, 
and Bean may have had their abilities increased, but they still 
think like Gamma fighters."

"Whatever the reason," Hiroshi said, "I think Tifa's got this 
one nailed down!"

"Don't speak too soon," Daisuke warned darkly.  "Morrigan's a 
cagey fighter.  Tifa needs to keep her wits about her until this 
is over."

In the corner, unnoticed by the crowd in general, the aching and 
battered Haohmaru managed to find his sake jug and take a pull.  
To his surprise, someone had replaced the rice wine with 
something else, some sort of healing elixir.  He the pain of his 
wounds begin to lessen, and the curses and bewitchments which 
Tifa had inflicted upon him began to fade away.

Xelloss watched the samurai drink deeply of the potion he'd put 
into the jug and smiled.  There was, however, less to smile 
about in the ring.  

Morrigan was in serious trouble.

This, she thought, was going very poorly.  She had decided to 
try to play a distance game, after seeing what the little beast 
had done to Haohmaru up close, but that wasn't turning out to be 
such a great move.  Tifa seemed to have a limitless arsenal of 
spells at her command, and Morrigan was running out of options.  

"Very good," she gasped, dodging farther away, trying to buy a 
little time.  "But here in this Arena, my powers are increased a 
hundred-fold!  This is a glimpse of the glory which awaits me 
when I create my own world.  Witness now, you arrogant mortal, 
the power of the new Queen of Hell!"

Black bat shapes, borne on fluttering wings of pure darkness, 
erupted from the air and swarmed around Morrigan, streaming 
towards her like rivers of writhing ebony.  They flooded into 
her, and as they did she grew in stature.  Her wings spread 
wide, blocking out the sun she grew to twice her height, then 
three times, then five...

"Cower before me!" her voice thundered across the Arena.  She 
raised a gargantuan hand high, scythe-like claws extended from 
the hooked fingers.  "Look upon my glory and despair!"

Tifa held her ground.  She summoned her will, focused her 
magical power through the pulsing red Materia on her gauntlet.

The claw descended towards the young warrior, ready to carve her 
into bloody bits, but it never connected.

Before Morrigan's attack hit, the earth itself lurched beneath 
her.  She lost her balance, toppling and swaying, as the chunk 
of ground upon which she'd been standing wrenched itself free 
and began to hurtle upwards in defiance of gravity.  The sudden 
g-forces pressed the surprised Morrigan against the stone, 
flattening her great leathery wings like circus tents collapsed 
in a hard rain.  She struggled to right herself, and raised her 
head to get her bearings.

She stared into the maw of the dragon.

"I'm screwed," she managed.  And then Bahamut, the king of 
dragons, summoned forth by the power of Tifa Lockheart, 
unleashed the full force of its ancient fury.

From the sidelines, Xelloss watched this all with concern.  
Here, things had been going so well, and now it looked like they 
were about to lose their first fight.  Morrigan had covered up 
against the attack with her wings, and she would probably be 
able to withstand the wrath of the dragon's breath better than 
she realized, but she was close to done.  "That darned little 
Tifa-chan," he said, almost scoldingly.  "Who would have guessed 
she'd be such a firecracker?"

"I would have," Sephiroth said in his liquid voice from 
somewhere to Xelloss' left.  "Strife was their strength, 
Highwind was their spirit, but she," he pointed to the long-
haired fighter in her white shirt and suspenders, "was their 
heart and soul.  Underestimate her at your peril."

"Well," Xelloss replied.  "Can't just go down without a fight, 
can we?  I think it's time to test out a little theory of mine."  
And with that, his form blurred, and he was gone.

In the wreckage of the Central Park replica, Morrigan was 
running for her life.  She had indeed survived the breath weapon 
of Bahamut, but at a painful price.  One wing hung limply at her 
side, and her right arm was badly burned.  She had no hope of 
offense now, she was merely trying to stay out of Tifa's reach. 

Tifa didn't want to expend any more of her magical energy if she 
didn't have to.  She could finish Morrigan up close.  She was 
faster, and the demoness was almost done.  Tifa kept herself 
positioned between Morrigan and the succubus' corner and closed 
the distance.

"Tifa's tightening the noose!" Hiroshi announced jubilantly.  
"It's all but over here... wait, what's that?  Next to the 
Ref... is that... Xelloss?"

The Mazoku wore a blonde wig and a plaid jacket, but it was 
hardly a disguise to fool anybody.  He had materialized in front 
of the mammoth, looming figure of the Referee, smiling a cheery 
salesman's smile.  "Excuse me!" he chirped to the great 
gargoyle-like figure.  "I'm sorry to bother you, but have you 
ever considered the benefits of genuine aluminum siding?"

Xelloss held up a sample of corrugated metal the size of a 
garage door, blocking Referee's view of the ring.  

[No,] the Referee intoned.  [I Have Not Considered The Benefits 
Of Genuine Aluminum Siding.]

"WHAT?!" Hiroshi screamed.  

Xelloss chattered on.  "OH!  Well, in that case, how much do you 
think it would cost you to refurnish this lovely building with 
our latest weather-proof Shiny-Shiny 2000 series designer 
aluminum siding?"

[Refurnishing Is Not Necessary,] the Referee said.  [The Arena 
Is As It Was Meant To Be.]

"That doesn't mean it couldn't be better!" the Mazoku trilled.  
"Here are some testimonials from all our satisfied customers. 
'Dear Shiny Corporation.  My name is Lina Inverse, and I never 
thought I would be writing a letter like this, but ever since I 
bought your 2000 series...'"

In the Life dugout, Lina clenched her fists.  

Hiroshi bawled into the mike.  "I can't BELIEVE what I'm seeing 
here!  How can he distract the Referee?  Isn't it supposed to be 
some all-powerful impartial arbiter or something?"  

"Apparently not," Daisuke replied gravely.  "It seems that the 
Referee is actually... stupid."

"AAAAAAAAGH!" Hiroshi wailed.  

In the ring, the purpose of the distraction became apparent.  
Tifa had been so focused on keeping Morrigan away from her 
corner that she didn't realize what was going on until too late.  
The rejuvenated Haohmaru leaped out from behind her and swung 
his sword in a savage arc, the blunted blade connecting hard 
with the back of Tifa's neck.

She went down with a scream of agony.

"Wake UP, Ref!" Hiroshi implored.  "Look at the fight!"

"Would you like to see some graphs about the long-lasting 
durability of our 2000 series compared to the competition's 
products?" Xelloss asked in a friendly tone.

[No, I Would Not,] the Referee said flatly.

Xelloss showed them to it anyway.  The Referee seemed to be in 
no danger of actually buying aluminum siding, but it also seemed 
to be completely unaware of what was going on in the ring.

Haohmaru tossed Morrigan the jug of healing elixir.  The 
succubus took a swig and felt some of her wounds begin to fade 
away, while the samurai pounded on the dazed Tifa with a 
merciless sword combination.  The energy of her defensive spells 
crackled and faded under the onslaught, and then Morrigan joined 
in as well.

Bean's thrusters roared uselessly, serving only to push him 
harder into his own corner.

"That does it," Lina Inverse said from the sidelines.  She 
rolled up a sleeve, her eyes focused like lasers on Xelloss.  
"Maybe it'll get us disqualified, but I'm gonna put a stop to 
this."  She began her chant:

"Darkness from twilight,
Crimson blood that flows..."

A small hand gripped her arm, interrupting her incantation.  She 
turned, expecting that Mary had stopped her, and was surprised 
to see that it had in fact been Yuffie.

"Yuffie?" Lina gaped.  "What are you doing?"

"She's going to be fine," the young, skinny ninja whispered.  
"You just watch."

"How can I trust you?" 

The little thief winked.  "Hey, I'm on your side now, okay?  
Just watch.  This is gonna be good."

Lina didn't know what Yuffie thought was going to happen, but 
the fight looked pretty hopeless to her.  Morrigan's Shell Kick 
sent Tifa staggering, blood streaming from a cut on the young 
woman's forehead.  Haohmaru pounded her with the hilt of his 
sword, then brought his blade crashing down against her skull 
with a terrifying two-handed slash.  

Tifa collapsed, face-first.

Xelloss spared a brief look over his shoulder, grinning.  "Well, 
here's my card if you want to call me," he said, tossing a scrap 
of paper to the Referee.  "Bye, now!"  He flickered out of 
sight.

The Referee's attention returned to the fight, where Tifa lay 
motionless on the ground next to Haohmaru and Morrigan's corner.  
The two fighters struck victory poses.

[One,] the striped gargoyle began to count.  [Two.]

Lina whirled to Yuffie.  "You little traitor!" she snapped.  "I 
ought to..."

"Just watch!" Yuffie insisted.  "Any second now..."

[Three.  Fo...]

Brilliant golden flame surrounded Tifa's body, enfolding it in a 
terrible, beautiful embrace.  Wings of scarlet and orange seared 
into being, tracing themselves into existence from the empty 
air.  Haohmaru and Morrigan howled in agony as the fires of life 
washed over them, and over the fallen form of Tifa Lockheart.

Beneath the vast wings of the Phoenix, Tifa rose to her feet.

Her injuries burned away like old parchment in the fire of the 
legendary symbol of life and rebirth.  The golden aura of the 
Phoenix surrounded her, filling her with vitality and strength 
once again, while the selfsame fires seared the flesh of her 
enemies.

"Wow," Hiroshi gasped.

[The Fight Continues,] the Referee announced.

The flames of the Phoenix flared brightly, and then the bird was 
consumed in its own radiance, and disappeared from sight.  
Morrigan lay flat on the ground, unconscious.  A blackened and 
smoking Haohmaru staggered to his feet, brandished his sword, 
and faced a restored and extremely angry Tifa Lockheart.

"ENLIGHTENMENT!" he blared, trying to boost his spirits.  "NOW, 
LET THE DECISIVE MOMENT OF THE BATTLE BEGIN, FOR THE LEGENDARY 
HAOHMARU IS..."

Tifa's battle aura roared to life, and all those who had watched 
her before knew that she had reached the critical point.  She 
was ready for her ultimate technique, her final technique.  The 
crowd thundered with cheers as she shifted into her Limit Break.

"Will you... SOMERSAULT! ... for once... DOLPHIN BLOW! ... just 
shut ... METEOR DRIVE! ... the hell UP!  FINAL HEAVEN!!"

Tifa Lockheart pounded Haohmaru with the consecutive attack of 
her Limit Break, pulverizing him and smashing him with each blow 
more powerful than the last, until finally the huge detonation 
that was the Final Heaven engulfed the samurai with its raging 
fury.  The charred form of Haohmaru bounced twice, then came to 
a rest at Tifa's feet.  

The Referee administered the ten-count to the unconscious 
warrior, and the fight was over.

"She WON!" Hiroshi erupted, laughing and crying and pounding 
Daisuke on the back.  "She WON!  We WON!  HA HA!  SHE DID IT!"

"In spite of rampant cheating and dirty tactics from the Team of 
Destruction," Daisuke commented, unable to keep the smile off 
his own face, "Tifa scores a miraculous victory."

"YAHOO!" trumpeted Hiroshi.  "Go, Tifa, go!  All RIGHT!"

"But the Team of Life is still behind," Daisuke reminded his 
partner.  "And we have a lot of fights to go."

"Put your hands up, people!" Hiroshi exhorted the crazed fans.  
"Let's hear it for the Roadbusters!  Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!"

"But for now," Daisuke commented.  "I think a little celebration 
is in order.  We'll be back soon for the next match, ladies and 
gentlemen."

- - - - -

Tifa finally managed to extricate herself from the 
congratulatory hugs and cheers of her teammates and made her way 
towards the labyrinthine backstage of the Ultimate Arena.  She'd 
gotten separated from Bean at some point in the celebration, and 
she wanted to find him again.  He looked a bit miserable after 
the fight.  

Instead, she found Yuffie.  Or rather, the young ninja found 
her, suddenly dropping down from the ceiling like a spider in 
front of her, startling her into a little scream.

"Hiya!" Yuffie chirped. 

Tifa grinned in response.  "I guess I owe you one," she said.  A 
week ago, she had worried that Yuffie would join her new friend, 
Dark Schneider, on the team of Destruction.  She shouldn't have 
been concerned.  Yuffie was a scamp and a troublemaker, but when 
it came down to something like this, she was as reliable as they 
came.  The ninja who had fought alongside her when they had 
faced Sephiroth on her own world would never join with the 
Prophet of Destruction.

"That Final Attack Materia is great, isn't it?"  Yuffie 
enthused.  

"Yeah," Tifa agreed.  The Final Attack Materia had been what 
saved her today.  The enchantment on the blue globe was such 
that when you fell in battle, it allowed you one last action 
beyond the limits of your own strength, one final attack.  When 
coupled with the summon of the Phoenix, with its life-restoring 
power, it made for a hell of a surprise to the enemy who thought 
he had you beat.

"You were awesome," the young thief said.  "Just like old 
times!"

"I was a nervous wreck," Tifa admitted.  "I was puking my guts 
out all morning."

"Aw, c'mon!  You never get sick."

Tifa shrugged.  "I've been kinda queasy all week.  The stress 
gets to you in weird ways, I guess."

"Really?" Yuffie said, studying her with wide eyes.  "Well, ya 
sure looked great out there!  Of course, not as good as me.  I'd 
have given 'em a left, and a right, and a left again..."  The 
stick-think girl pantomimed a combination attack.

"Say Yuffie," Tifa interrupted.  "Something I've been meaning to 
ask."

"Hmm?"

"Well, I was thinking back to when we split up the group, after 
Sephiroth," she said.  "And when we divided up all our Materia.  
And I seem to recall that the Final Attack went to Cid.  So how 
did you come by it, I wonder?"

"What?" the girl protested innocently.  "It was mine all along!  
You must be remembering wrong."  She flashed her teeth in a 
broad smile.

"Yeah," Tifa smiled back.  "Right."

- - - - - 

Bean Bandit drove his fist into the stone wall, buckling the 
smooth surface with the force of his blow.  "Damn it!  Damn it 
to hell!"

He had escaped the celebration of his team as they'd basked in 
the relief of their first victory, and retreated his way into 
the backstage area.  The staff of This Old Dojo had stored their 
mechanical and cleaning supplies here in one of the alcoves, in 
case they needed them.  The Roadbuster had retreated to this 
secluded nook to blow off a little steam.

Apparently, though, he wasn't as alone as he thought.  Footsteps 
echoed in the corridor behind him.  He turned, and was not 
particularly pleased to note the approach of Lei Wulong, the 
famous super-cop.

"You look pissed," the police officer noted.

"Brilliant deduction, detective," Bean snarled.  "Of COURSE I'm 
pissed!"

"You won the match, though," Lei commented.

The American driver was sure that Wulong was rubbing it in.  
"You know damn well that I got my butt kicked out there.  Tifa 
was the one who won that fight, not me.  I might as well have 
stayed home!"

The long-haired cop shrugged.  "You're in a partnership.  You 
pick up each other's slack."

"Were you watching?" Bean shouted.  "Did you see what happened?  
It's this stupid damned curse!  I thought it would be better 
with the car, but DAMN!  All anybody has to do is flip me on my 
back like some sort of stupid TURTLE and I'm history!"

"Hmm," Lei hummed.

"In that Arena out there, ANYBODY is strong enough to flip a 
car!" he railed.  "I may have all sorts of guns and missiles and 
stuff, but what good is it gonna do me if I've got a big, 
glaring weakness that anyone can exploit?  I'm deadweight!  I'm 
a goddamned albatross!  I'm..."

With a surprisingly swift and graceful movement, Lei reached out 
a foot, hooked it into the handle of a pail of soapy water, and 
dumped the bucket over Bean's head.

The Corvette honked angrily, its headlights flashing.  Bean 
didn't have his enhanced weapons outside the Arena, but he could 
damn well squash this stupid, smug cop bastard under his 
tires...

"Wait, wait, wait!" Lei implored.  "I just want to try something 
out here!  It may help you!"

Bean's engine idled, though his high-beams glared.  

"All right," the cop said.  "Now, in this form, you can control 
all the different parts of the car, right?"

Bean honked.

"So you can open the doors?"

The doors flared open in unison, then slammed shut angrily.  

"And you can pop the trunk?" 

The trunk snapped open and shut once.

"And you can open the hood?"

The hood of the Corvette yawned open like a metallic jaw.

"And you can unscrew the radiator cap?"

The radiator cap twisted itself.  A jet of hot water shot forth 
from exposed mouth of the radiator, and suddenly Bean found 
himself in human form again.  He blinked in surprise, and almost 
fell down.

Lei caught him before he stumbled.  "There," he said.  "I 
wondered if that would work."

"Hot water in the radiator," Bean said wonderingly.  "I can... I 
can turn myself back into a human any time?"

"Looks that way," Lei told him.  "I thought about it when I was 
watching you out there today."

"I'll be damned," Bean whispered, and then a smile spread across 
his chiseled face.  "Heh.  I should have thought of that 
myself."

"I think your girlfriend is looking for you," Lei told him.  
"And the next fight is about to start."

"Yeah," he nodded.  He turned to walk away, then looked back 
towards the cop.  "I owe you one."

Lei raised his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly.  "Pay me 
back by winning," he said.  

- - - - -

The gargoyle's eyes were glowing. Hiroshi was instantly on it.

"And the fourth match is about to begin!" he cried. "Wonderfully 
exciting, isn't it, Daisuke?"

"Seeing as our very lives hang in the balance," replied the 
commentator, "and we've only just seen our first victory, I'd 
probably have to say yes."

"Ah, don't worry about it." Hiroshi patted his friend's 
shoulder. "We're gonna be on a winning streak for the rest of the 
night, just wait and see. Who's fighting for Team Life this 
round, Ref?"

[The Time For The Fourth Match Is Nigh. For Life,] came the response, [Stands 
Dan Hibiki.]

There was an audible wham! as Daisuke's head hit the announcer's 
table, followed by a shrieking line of feedback. Hiroshi 
couldn't help wincing.

In the wings, Lina tried not to frown. "I think I'll watch this one up 
close," she said, and Levitated off.

The Referee continued, impartial. [For Destruction Stands B-ko 
Daitokuji. The Conditions Are Standard. The Setting Is Graviton 
High.]

B-ko looked up from adjusting her suit and stared as the Arena 
did its thing, shifting into a building she thought she'd never 
see again. From floor to ceiling, it was her old high school.

"Looks like I'll be having at least one more fight on the old 
school grounds," she muttered with traces of a smile. "It hasn't 
changed a bit."

[The Contestants Will Come Forth,] boomed the Referee.

Dan was already rolling his way into the arena. Looking up, B-ko 
gave Sephiroth a grin. He was looking at her with a mix of 
bemusement and horror, but she ignored it.

"Looks like I'll have to take back Haohmaru and Morrigan's embarrassing 
loss."

Xelloss was instantly beside her, grinning and grinning. "And with that 
specially designed suit, you'll do just that. It's a surefire win, this 
time."

"Er, right." She adjusted a few straps on the showy outfit. It 
didn't look much different from the one she'd worn to fight A-ko 
years back... except for the helmet portion. "I still think my 
stuff would've been more than enough..."

[The Contestants Will Come Forth,] repeated the gargoyle. [Or Does B-ko 
Daitokuji Forfeit?]

"Damn it! No!" She turned and flew off, bristling. Xelloss 
smiled after her.

The Referee waited until the exact moment her feet touched the high school 
grounds, and spoke again.

][ FINAL ULTRA MATCH #4
][ DAN HIBIKI vs. B-KO DAITOKUJI
][ FIGHT!

Dan didn't have to be told twice. Crying with the ecstatic 
revelry of the eternally punch-drunk, he was rushing at his foe 
before the gargoyle's words had finished.

He ended up flat on his face long before reaching her. Most of 
the crowd evidently felt the same way.

"What in the hell?" wondered Hiroshi, none too subtly. "What's 
that thing on B-ko's head?"

"It looks like she's... wearing Xelloss as a hat." Daisuke 
couldn't suppress his smirk for long. "Wow. B-ko's always had 
weird costumes and stuff, but this is taking the cake."

Dan was back on his feet, staring at his opponent like she was a 
really rare circus attraction. "Not even the mighty Dan Hibiki," 
he finally proclaimed, "has ever seen a head deformity that 
ugly!"

Xelloss blinked. "Well, that was rude."

"Oh, shut up," B-ko groaned. "You won't be talking so big when 
you find out what this thing can do."

On the sidelines, Sephiroth gave Xelloss a stern look. "Does she 
even know what that thing does?"

"Mm? Oh. No, not as such."

The son of Jenova frowned deeply. "What, exactly, does it do?"
Xelloss turned to him, smiled, and placed a finger to his lips. 
"Shhh. You'll see. Pay attention, it'll be interesting."

"In the name of my number one fan," Dan shouted, "and all the 
other living people on Earth and other places, I proclaim here 
and now that I will use my Saikyo-Ryu Style and the spirits of 
all those who believe in me to defeat the wearer of such 
unsightly headwear!"

"Grk," answered the girl, raising a hand to her forehead. She 
shook her head sharply, then spat, "Then let's do it," and 
disappeared.

"What-" Hiroshi leaned forward, clutching his microphone...

"Where-" Lina, watching from the sidelines, her eyes ...

"Oyaji?" Dan, taken aback, staring in confusion...

And a moment later, she was behind him, a solid chop given to 
the back of his neck. Dan fell face-first to the ground, just 
managing to catch himself and hop to his feet.

B-ko blinked, staring at her hand. "Wow," she breathed. "That 
was really fas-"

"GADOUKEN!"

Caught off-guard, the girl took the brunt of the small pink 
fireball and flew backwards, head over heels... or at least she 
was prepared to. 

What actually happened, is that she felt almost nothing. Dan 
hadn't been waiting to see the results of his attack and was 
already into a flurry of punches and kicks, which threw her into 
a frenzy of blocks. 

When they separated, however, Dan looked much the worse for it.
The areas of his arms and legs that she had touched to knock 
aside were discolored, as if they'd been soaked with some sort 
of black miasma. His breath was already hurried, if not exactly 
rushed yet. B-ko, on the other hand, looked only amazed at the 
capabilities of her new outfit.

Lina watched from her distance, eyes trained and thoughtful.

"Ooosha!" Dan cried, and leapt again. "In the name of my Oyaji, 
I shall use... the Dan Dan Boot To The Head!"

Flying at her, his feet positioned for a solid head-kicking, Dan 
was so close to victory he could have tasted it. Until B-ko 
casually disappeared, reappeared above him a tenth of a second 
later, and kicked him in the back. He flew into the schoolyard 
wall and rebounded into a bunch of daisies.

Words and powers she was unfamiliar with trickled into B-ko's 
mind. She began to laugh, the horrible bitchlaugh of a femme 
fatale on a power trip. Dan looked up just in time to see dark, 
swirling energies gathering up around her.

"Wait a minute," grunted Lina.

He tried to dodge, but wasn't fast enough. The raw force of the 
blast carried Dan through the cement wall, and a second wave 
from behind sent him flying once again. This time he ended up in 
one of the school's lavatories.

B-ko disappeared from the onlooker's view. To Dan, however, she 
was all too close.

Grinning, she spread her arms and said two words.

"Blast Bomb."

Two things happened at once. Most importantly, half the school 
was instantaneously vaporized in the wake of a gigantic burst of 
fire.

Secondly, Lina's attention snapped to Xelloss, who winked at 
her.

"Damn it!" she growled. "He's somehow stuck his magic into that 
suit! Argh, Dan doesn't stand a chance!"

"...wow," was all Daisuke could say.

Somewhere in the debris of the simulated Graviton High, Dan 
Hibiki rose to his feet. B-ko was almost preening.

"Dan!" shouted Lina, waving her hands. "Listen to me! She's got 
Xelloss's power!"

"The demon-thing's?" He blinked owlishly, then laughed hard 
enough to choke up dust. "Ah, so not even the demon's power is 
enough to crush Dan Hibiki!"

"Oh, I'm sure it is. I just haven't finished testing this baby 
out," purred B-ko.

"Bah! You and your team of evildoers shall fail!" Dan wiped the 
grit from his mouth, took up his fighting stance. "We've already 
taken a victory! And that streak shall continue through me! Dan 
Hibiki will not fail his fans!"

B-ko groaned. "You're making me nauseous. If you really want me 
to, I can get this over with right now."

A fist struck him across the face, followed with a second blow 
to his stomach. Dan staggered backwards, shaking the chiming 
bells out of his head. She'd paused in her attacks for just a 
moment, and he took the initiative... to give an inspirational 
speech.

"You may be strong, but even the strongest opponent has a 
weakness! OYAAJIIII!"

"Zelas Gort," called B-ko, thrusting her hands at the man in 
pink.

Nothing happened. Dan looked around, haltingly. Only Lina was 
watching with trepidation.

"He's going to get himself killed out there," she mumbled. "If 
that suit can emulate any spells Xelloss has the power to 
control..." Then a thought hit her. She straightened up, 
furrowing her brow. "Wait. He's right. She's still got to have a 
weakness..."

"Ha-ha! Your borrowed powers have failed you!" Dan grinned with 
all his teeth. All in all, it was surprising he had any left. 
"Now face another of my GADOU-huh?"

The high school began rumbling on its foundations. B-ko had no 
idea what she'd done, she'd just grabbed hold of one of the 
things floating around in her head. Deciding be take it careful, 
she took to the air and watched as the pipes and faucets of the 
ruined architecture roared to life with swarm of jellyfish.

She stared, dumbstruck.

"Gahhh! Jellyfish!" Dan flailed, frantically knocking the 
creatures off his gi. "The mighty Dan has been beset by Mother 
Nature herself!"

"Not one of your better spells," Sephiroth quipped, quite dryly.

Xelloss laughed. "Oh, that's funny. None of these are my spells. 
I don't use any of them. Well, not unless it's an unusual 
circumstance."

Sephiroth looked at him with just enough calm to prod him into 
answering. Xelloss beamed even larger, looking pleased to have 
an audience.

"Never you mind. The important thing is, she can use them. I've seen to 
that!"

Meanwhile, Dan was too busy attacking the jellyfish to pay any 
attention to B-ko. Slippery, spineless bodies flew every which 
away from the flailing blur. Water drenched the remains of the 
high school, "GADOUKEN! GOURYUKEN! DAN DAN KICK!"

"This entire match has been ridiculous," she decided. "If the 
poor sop is going to lose, I might as well let him keep whatever 
dignity he still has left."

She fished around in the little bubble that floated around her 
mind, snagged one that looked promising. She ran her mental 
fingers through it and realized it looked very promising.

"Ah," said Xelloss. "I was wondering how long it would take her 
to find that." Sephiroth glanced at the Mazoku, but kept quiet. 
On the other side of the ring, Lina felt her spine shiver all 
the way through her.

A black hole began to open in the sky above the hovering B-ko. 
Her hands grabbed at the air as if she were holding some sort of 
giant blade invisible to everyone else.

Lina knew it wouldn't be invisible much longer.

"How can she possibly use the Ragna Blade?" she growled. 
"Xelloss shouldn't even know that one! Still, she won't be able 
to use it very well if she's never even tried it before, no 
matter how much help Xelloss gives." The sorceress cupped her 
hands around her mouth and belted out in her most authoritive 
voice, "Dan! Hurry up and DO SOMETHING!"

The Saikyo-Ryu warrior looked up, jellyfish still dangling on 
his gi. He took Lina's meaning soon enough, which was probably a 
miracle in itself, but then turned his view skyward. His 
expression grew scrunched and confused at the sight of his 
opponent hovering a good distance off the ground. "None of even 
the mighty Dan's attacks reach that high," he shouted back.

"So make up a new one! Just hurry up! If she finishes that 
spell, you're dead!"

Dan frowned, deep in thought. The swirling darkness was taking a 
blunted, dull form in B-ko's hands. Grabbing the first thing he 
could, his mind worked in a flurry.

"Then: Dan Hibiki's newest and greatest move!" Pink chi erupted 
around him. "Behold! The DAN DAN -" he glanced at his hands, "-
DOUBLE-FISTED JELLYFISH TO THE HEAD!"

"Oh, we are so dead," Daisuke moaned.

B-ko was oblivious. The spell was almost complete, the words 
whispered silkenly through her mind. She could feel the power of 
it concreting in her hands. Her eyes opened, her mouth with 
them, and she shouted in exhilaration, "Behold! The RAGNA BLA-
gmph!"

The jellyfish landing directly in her mouth, the golden-black 
magic vanished from her hands. Dan began rolling on the ground, 
shaking his fist heavenward and shouting words like "OOOOSHA!", 
"OYAAAAAJI!" and "JELLYFISH SUGOI!" which he'd just made up on 
the spot.

B-ko seethed with rage, and was on her taunting opponent in 
moments.

"GUNF!" groaned Dan, as the force of their impact sent them deep 
into the recesses of the standing half of the school. The 
pressure left in their wake took waves of grungy water and 
jellyfish after them.

"Looks like he's made her angry," laughed Xelloss. "Well, she's 
only got one spell left. This should be interesting."

Sephiroth turned on his team's manager. "What do you mean, one?"

The picture of innocence, Xelloss pointed at himself in 
puzzlement. "Me? Wasn't I clear?"

The bishonen responded with a single, straightforward glower.

"You don't think I'd really give all my knowledge and power to 
B-ko, do you? That would just be dangerous!" Xelloss shook his 
head. "No, she only has access to four specific spells, not 
including the raw essence of dark magic she can throw around 
willy-nilly. And, of course, I didn't want things to get boring-
"

"So you only let her use each spell once," Sephiroth finished.

"Indeed!" Xelloss beamed. "You've always been the smartest of 
them."

Sephiroth leaned in. "And the final spell?"

"Oh, don't worry about that." Briefly, the Mazoku's purple slit 
eyes shone beneath the eyelids. "I just thought it might make a 
convenient shortcut."

If the bishonen had been going to pursue that further, he was 
distracted by the far east wall of Graviton High exploding in 
chunks of peppered black magic. B-ko burst through the roof, did 
an arc in the air, and then zipped back down in the blink of an 
eye.

Her arc carried her directly back through the roof and into 
Dan's stomach. The force of the impact broke the floor beneath 
them, and they fell into the school's basement among heaps of 
rubble. Water poured down over them, some of it from the freshly 
broken pipes they'd just torn through in their decent. There 
were some sounds of electrical wiring on the fritz, and B-ko 
took a moment to reorient herself.

She'd been wrong, the school wasn't exactly as she remembered 
it. There hadn't been a basement when she'd attended. Either 
they'd added one on before the Arena had duplicated its image, 
or this was a completely new setup available one time and one 
place only: here and now.

There was some stirring at her feet. "Unghf," groaned her 
wounded opponent. "You... fight well, for someone with no 
personal skill to call their own."

B-ko smiled, and went back to the temporary extension of her 
mind. She didn't have to look long; there was a fresh new spell 
sitting there waiting for her. Words rose up in her mind, but 
this time it seemed imperative she say them. She began to chant.

"Darkness beyond blackest pitch..."

"Oh hell no!" screamed Lina. "That's impossible!  DAN! STOP HER 
NOW!" The image on the monitor showed no signs of having heard 
her. The redhead smacked her fist into the screen. "I've got to 
get in there," she decided, and silently cast Levitation. Rising 
quickly, she made for the half-destroyed high school and hit a 
solid, if invisible, brick wall.

[There Will Be No Interference In The Match,] reminded the 
Referee.

"I don't have time for this! Damn it, you let Xelloss in his 
stupid salesman disguise in but not me?!" shouted Lina. "Let me 
in or we'll all be killed here and now, never mind the stupid 
tournament!"

The Referee gave no response.

"This... looks bad." Hiroshi tugged at his collar.

"Lord of Darkness, shining like gold upon the Sea of Chaos..."

Dan was back on his feet, peering through rather bruised eyelids 
at the collection of miasma swirling around his face. The force 
of it gathering so close to him sent him stumbling back, and he 
was dimly aware of the electrical sound getting quite close.

"I call upon thee! Swear myself to thee!"

The pink warrior grit his teeth, and pushed his foot against 
whatever it was that he'd stumbled over. His muscles tensing, he 
prepared himself for a rush attack, maybe a Dan Dan Boot To The 
Head in there somewhere, maybe try that Jellyfish thing again. 
He wasn't really sure what he was going to do, but he did know 
that, for once, it didn't seem like the time to be taunting.

"Let the fools who stand before us be destroyed..."

His weight settled on his back leg as he prepared to run at her. 
The force of her spell was insane now, pure black flecked with 
glimmering gold.

"...by the power you and I possess!"

"This is it," Lina growled, hammering away at the barrier with 
useless spell after useless spell.

"GIGA SLA-"

The thing Dan was standing on gave way, and a large burst of 
electricity set Dan's hair on fire. The disturbance was enough 
to startle B-ko out of her chant, and the power began to fade 
out the moment her concentration broke.

Lina held her breath. So did the rest of the world.

And in the silence created by disrupting the Giga Slave came a 
small voice, muffled... but recognizable, and damnably perky.
	
     "I've been searching for a man
     all across Japan.
     Just to find, to find my samurai.
     Someone who is strong
     but still a little shy.
     Yes I need, I need my samurai."

Xelloss opened his eyes. It was a rare event, and even rarer 
given the look of surprise on his face.

"Oh, my," he murmured. "I hadn't expected that."

Dan turned, opened mouthed. There were other arcade consoles 
scattered around, all of them broken, ruined and short-
circuited. Only the Dance Dance Revolution machine at his feet 
was still operational.

He hugged it tightly, turning on his own personal waterworks. 
"Not even here, you wouldn't forsake me! Oyajiiii!"

     "Ai-ai-ai am your little butterfly.
     Green, black, and blue makin' colors in the sky.
     ai-ai-ai am your little butterfly.
     Green, black, and blue makin' colors in the sky."

B-ko was groaning, her jaw clamped. She swayed on her feet.

"That's IT!" Lina shouted. "It should have been obvious! If it 
has the same powers as a Mazoku, it has the same weakness!"

[And That Is?] It seemed to her that even the Referee was having 
difficulty acting impartial.

"Sappy love stuff," she answered, grinning.

Dan lifted his head to his nauseous opponent. "Ah, your evil 
powers cannot stand up to the might of true, selfless love! I 
now have the upper hand!"

"Shut up," snapped B-ko. It was hard coming off a power trip, 
especially when you find yourself at Dan Hibiki's feet 
afterwards.

"With the love of my number one fan on my side," he shouted into 
the nearest camera, "I shall unleash... DAN AND THE DDR 
MACHINE'S BUTTERFLY DUET!"

B-ko clutched at the hat, trying to push it off. It wouldn't 
budge. Dan stood back, puffed out his chest, and waited for his 
cue.

     "I've been searching in the woods
     And high upon the hills..."

"Ugh!" B-ko grunted. Little sparks began spilling out of her 
suit.

     "Just to find, to find my samurai.
     Someone who won't regret
     To keep me in his net.
     Yes I need, I need my samurai."
	
The sparks were a dance of malfunctions now. B-ko was 
fruitlessly trying to push the thing off her body, but it was 
clinging like a leech. Dan stepped forward and gave his all for 
the chorus.

     "Ai-ai-ai am your little butterfly.
     Green, black, and blue makin' colors in the sky.
     Ai-ai-ai am your little butterfly.
     Green, black, and blue makin' colors in the sky."

The song and Dan trailed off, and with a final spurt, both the 
DDR machine and B-ko's powersuit shut down. The girl looked up 
at the approaching Dan with an annoyance to last any normal 
person years. Maybe I can still fight, she thought. We're 
supposed to be super-powered with or without or things, like 
Duo, I can still pull this off...

"And with all the love of the Dan Hibiki for his Oyaji," he 
cried, and dashed forward; "OTOKO NO MICHI!"

The explosion rocked Graviton High. The onlookers, all over the 
world, could only stare. The only sound was that of the Referee 
beginning the ten count.

Then the cameras began to clear, and there was only one opponent 
still standing. Or kneeling, rather, while hugging a drowning 
arcade console to his bosom.

[Ten,] droned the gargoyle. [Team Life Is The Victor.]

Mary, in the wings, gave a shaky smile. "Now do you believe that 
pop psychology stuff?"

Nabiki paused a moment, thought it over, and decided to just get 
back to work.

"Wow," Hiroshi wheezed at last. "I thought we were all dead for 
a second there."

"...um. Yeah." Daisuke was just now managing to make vowel 
sounds again.

"Let's hope that doesn't happen again," bubbled the energetic 
clone blithely. "Anyway, the next fight should be along shortly, 
so stick around."

- - - - -

The cheers were loud in Team Life's side of the Arena. They'd 
finally started to string together some victories, and they 
intended to keep on winning. Even Yaga was getting into the mood, and
had delivered a slap to Dan's back hard enough to earn the pink warrior an 
extra bruise.

Things were entirely different in the wings of Team Destruction's half.

Xelloss and Sephiroth stood over the recovering figure of B-ko. 
No words were being spoken, but the bishonen could barely keep 
his anger to himself.

"I think," said the Mazoku at last, "I shouldn't have actually 
trapped her inside. Still, you can't blame me for taking a crap 
shoot at a quick alternative."

"If anything like this ever happens again," warned Sephiroth, 
"you won't make it to see the end of this world."

"My, my. You need to work on that anger."

A blonde head bonneted in red poked its way past the door. "I 
saw everything!" she cried. "Wow, there were lots of explosion! 
That was great!"

Sephiroth's cold gaze took Bulleta full on. She simply smiled 
through it. "What's wrong? Didn't you like the explosions? Or 
did the last one make the suit thingy explode?"

"Not beyond repair," Xelloss mused. "In fact, I'd say this was a 
learning experience. She'd be able to do much better next time." 
He was sure to look shocked when Sephiroth grabbed him by collar 
of his robes.

"B-ko will never wear that thing again," he sneered, and 
deposited the Mazoku so that he was facing the door. "I'll tend 
to her. Don't you have a team to manage?"

"Ah, you're right when you're right." Xelloss made his exit 
slowly, giving one last glance over his shoulder before 
disappearing altogether. "Ano..."

"What?"

"I was just thinking, what if she wants to get back in? The 
suit, I mean. She certainly seemed to like the surge of power." 
He waited just one beat. "Or are you afraid to let her taste 
what you've had since birth?"

The bishonen's fingers itched to draw the Masamune, but Xelloss 
was gone before Sephiroth's baser instincts could take over. Bulleta
followed, skipping off without an ounce of concern.

Waiting for her to regain consciousness, Sephiroth returned his 
attention to the monitors.

- - - - -

Lina Inverse did not feel like celebrating.  While literally 
billions of people were gassing on that skin-of-the-teeth win, 
she found herself deep in furious concentration.  She broke off 
from the swarm of congratulations being poured towards Dan and 
returned to the Life dugout.

The Referee's eyes were still glowing very softly, as they did 
during the intermissions between fights, but it was aware.  
"Hey, you!" she shouted at it.  "I've got a question for you!"

[Speak.]

"Is there some place backstage that we can meet the members of 
the other team?  Not to fight, just to talk.  Is there?"

[Neutral Ground Has Been Arranged.  With Whom Do You Desire To 
Speak?]

"The Prophet of Destruction," Lina told it.  "Xelloss."

And suddenly, she was somewhere else.  

Lina shook her head and looked around to orient herself.  She 
was standing in a circular chamber almost the size of the arena 
floor of the original UltraDome.  It seemed to be divided into 
the same kinds of dark and light stone that the booking spheres 
had been made of.  Crumbling columns surrounded the perimeter, 
and she stood on a slighlty raised platform near the center of 
the light side.  The only other adornment to the room was a 
smaller version of the Referee, its gargoyle-like shape looming 
in the dusky light.

The teleport had caught her by surprise.  She was at least 
gratified to see that it had come as a shock to Xelloss as well.

"Now, now," the Mazoku recovered.  "What's all this then?  
Taking me away from my team while I'm doing important coaching 
and pep-talking and stuff.  Lina-chan, that's quite dishonest of 
you!"

[Time Is Suspended Here,] the Referee told them.  

"Oh!" Xelloss exclaimed, clapping his hands together.  "Well, 
that's all right then!  Well now, Lina-chan, did you want to 
talk to me about something?"

"I'd like to blow you to bits, Xelloss," she told him 
cheerfully.

[No Combat Is Allowed Here.]

"Just fantasizing, Ref!" Lina called to it. 

"Ooh!  Tell me more of your fantasies, sweet Lina-chan!" Xelloss 
begged, balling his hands up under his chin in an Amelia-esque 
gesture.  

The sorcery genius decided to ignore this.  "How did you do 
that?" she asked.  "What you did out there with B-ko?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Xelloss asked with innocent eyes.

"Some of the powers were yours," the sorceress explained, "and 
the Blast Bomb isn't one of mine, but the rest of those spells?  
No.  All right, you could conceivably have gotten Naga to teach 
you the Zelas Gort.  But the other two..."

"What other two?" the Mazoku queried curiously.

"You don't know those spells," Lina Inverse insisted.  "What's 
more, as a Mazoku, you CAN'T know them.  Those spells call on 
the power of the Lord of Nightmares."

"So?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" the red-head snapped.  "You're a 
Mazoku! You can't use the power of the Lord of Nightmares, any 
more than you could have used the Godhead!  If you could 
transfer the ability to cast the Giga-Slave to someone, you 
would've used it long ago!  The only person around here who 
knows those spells is..."

Her jaw dropped.  Understanding dawned.

"...is ME," she breathed.

"You know," Xelloss said thoughtfully.  "I do believe you're 
right."

"You were pulling those spells from MY mind," Lina whispered.  
"Drawing off my knowledge and transferring it through that suit.  
How?  How did you do that?"

"Ah, my dear, dear, Lina," Xelloss replied, wagging his finger.  
"That, I'm afraid, is a secret."

Lina Inverse glared at him with naked fury.  "I'll make you 
regret this, Xelloss," she warned.

"You are so cute when you're angry!" the trickster exclaimed.  
"Now, I really would like to get back to my team.  Oh Referee-
san?  I think I want to go now!"

And with that, Lina suddenly found herself back in the Life 
dugout.  The celebrations were still ringing through the 
Ultimate Arena, and Dan was still trumpeting his victory.  Time, 
it seemed, really had been suspended.  

She crossed her arms and lowered her head, eyes narrowed with 
thought.  She wondered how Xelloss had managed that, just how 
he'd pulled off the trick of drawing spells away from her and 
into B-ko.  Was it mind-reading?  If it was, she could be in 
trouble.  

There was one way to find out.  She had a fight later on this 
evening, and now she had a play that she definitely wanted to 
make.  Whether it caught Xelloss by surprise or not would tell 
her a great deal.

- - - - -

Back at the announcer's desk, Hiroshi took a giant belt of his 
"Caffeine Blaster Neutron Exploda-chino" and tightened his grip 
on the microphone.  "And we're ready to roll again!  The score 
is even now, with two fights to each team!  Here's a chance for 
the Life team to pull out in front!"

"Also a chance for the other guys to do the same thing," Daisuke 
noted pessimistically.

"Don't even think it!" Hiroshi warned.  "Positive thoughts, 
positive thoughts!  Come on, Ref, now give us the news!  Which 
one of our heroes is gonna open a can of whoop-ass on the bad 
guys?"

[No Cans Are Stipulated In This Match,] the Referee declared. 

"Do you ever lighten up?" Hiroshi asked.

[No.]

He sighed.  "Okay, okay," he relented.  "Just introduce the 
fighters, you big gullible chunk of rock."  He leaned close to 
Daisuke and whispered.  "And I thought YOU were the straight 
man.  Geez, this guy takes the cake!"

[No Cakes Are Stipulated In This Match,] the Referee noted.

"Oh, knock it off," Hiroshi glowered.  "Just do your intros and 
be quiet, okay?"

[The Time For The Fifth Match Is Nigh,] the gargoyle rumbled.  
[For Life Stands Ultraman.  For Destruction Stands Melvin 
Bison.]

Large molars ground angrily in one ex-crimelord's mouth as 
sniggering filled the Ultimate Arena.

[The Conditions Are Standard.  The Setting Is Lake Edwards Salt 
Flats Of Planet Earth.  The Contestants Will Come Forth.]

Parched, cracked clay, once the bottom of an ancient sea and now 
long dried into a salty wasteland, filled the Arena.  Gusts of 
errant wind whipped up little dust devils of dry sand, 
skittering the grains across the fissured earth.  

M. Bison, his muscular arms crossed across his vast expanse of 
chest, floated over the arid terrain.  He could feel the energy 
of the Arena flowing into him, enhancing his Psycho Power 
abilities, filling his limbs with strength.  His notorious smile 
widened, and his eyes glowed a deep, sinister purple.  

Ultraman's face betrayed nothing, could betray nothing, but 
immense form quivered with anticipation.  His scintillating eyes 
focused on his adversary, and the Giant of Light prepared for 
battle.

The Referee spoke...

][ FINAL ULTRA MATCH #5
][ ULTRAMAN vs. M. BISON
][ FIGHT!

'How to take down the big ones,' Bison thought, sizing up the 
silver colossus which faced him across the desert.  'So many 
options.  Let us start, though, with...'  "PSYCHO SHOT!" he 
rasped, extending his hand forward like a man throwing a shot 
put.

The meteor-like projectile of pulsing purple energy ripped 
through the air, plowing up irregular chunks of sodium-laden 
clay in its wake.

Ultraman swatted at the projectile with an open palm just before 
it reached him, smacking it off course.  The energy ball 
streaked off in a wild vector and collided with the ochre 
landscape several hundred yards away.  The immense hero held his 
position, awaiting Bison's next move.

"Feh," Bison grunted.  "Very well.  PSYCHO CRUSHER!"  He reared 
back, igniting his whole body with blazing Psycho Power, then 
launched himself towards his towering adversary.  Bison's body 
rifled through the air, sonic booms ripping their way out behind 
him as he hurtled towards the Giant of Light.  This move had put 
a hole through the chest of an Evangelion, he recalled.  He 
wondered how well this latest heir to the mantle of Ultraman 
would hold up under the attack.

He didn't get the chance to find out.  Rather than take the hit, 
Ultraman suddenly dropped out of giant form, diminishing in an 
eyeblink down to human size.  The spiraling Shadowlaw dictator 
sailed high over his head, in roughly the area where his chest 
would have been.  

Bison momentarily lost track of his foe, but not for long.  
Ultraman reminded him of his presence - he crossed his arms 
before him and unleashed his famous Specium Beam at the former 
crimelord.  

Pain lanced through Bison's body as he took the hit.  He cursed 
himself for being clumsy and predictable.  He realized something 
unsettling - he was rusty.  Long days and nights trapped below 
the earth in his prison cell had taken the edge off his skills.

'It's more than that,' he heard a voice in his head say.  It 
sounded suspiciously like Sagat.  'You have used gadgets and 
toys as your crutch for years, Bison.  You have used underlings 
and slaves to fight your fights.  Where are your toys now?  What 
slaves will stand in your stead?'

Bison's body hit the dry earth, buckling it with the impact.  
And Ultraman was on him in a flash.

The savagery of Ultraman's attack caught him utterly by 
surprise.  The human-sized hero from the stars laid into Bison 
with a merciless flurry of punches and kicks, striking his vital 
spots with surgical precision with each punishing blow.  
Unyielding silver fists slammed into his temple, his solar 
plexus, his kidneys, his throat... 

"And Ultraman is going wild, folks!" Hiroshi called.  "He's not 
giving Bison a chance to recover!"

"You're right," Daisuke agreed, his eyes widening.  "A very 
aggressive strategy by Ultraman.  Looks like it's paying off, 
too.  Bison can't seem to muster any counterattack."

"Stick it to him, big guy!" Hiroshi cried, pumping his fist.  
"Go, go, go!"

This, thought Bison, was not how heroes fought.  He had battled 
scores and scores of "the good guys" in his time, and there was 
a certain rhythm to such matches, a certain flow.  They held 
back, they moderated, they fought with controlled force.  There 
were exceptions, like the mutant Wolverine, but as a rule your 
heroes did not attack with this sort of relentless brutality.

He tried to block.  He tried to fight back.  He tried to 
teleport and gain some clearance.  Ultraman gave him no chance 
to do any of these things, and the blows continued to fall.

The part of Bison's mind that remained above the pain and could 
still analyze the lopsided fight reeled in confusion.  'He is 
fighting like a man possessed,' he thought, then he realized 
that wasn't quite right.  'No, not that.  He is fighting with a 
vengeance.  His blows are full of rage and hatred towards me.  
He fights as if I have wronged him in some way, and he means to 
pay me back.'

But how could that be?  Bison had been incarcerated before this 
Ultraman even appeared on Earth.  What grudge could the Giant of 
Light have against him that was so personal, so raw?

Ultraman gave him the answer.  Bison was dead on his feet, 
staggering and defenseless, as the warrior from the stars set up 
his final blow.  As the silver fist slammed like a runaway 
locomotive into M. Bison's face, shattering the bones of his 
jaw, the crimelord understood.  And then, everything went dark.

The Giant of Light stood over the fallen form of his adversary, 
and the Referee counted to ten.

"WOW!" Hiroshi blared as the crowd erupted with joy.  "What a 
fight! Ultraman just beat the living SNOT out of Melvin Bison, 
folks!  And did you hear that last hit?  Folks, it sounded like 
Bison's broken the same jaw he did after his LAST fight in 
Ultra!"

Daisuke gave him a curious look.  "It's not like Bison has 
another jaw to break, Hiro," he observed.

"Never mind that!" the hyper announcer continued undeterred.  
"Bison has been put in his place, ladies and gents, and guess 
what?  Team Life is up three fights to two!  We're out in front 
now, and there's no looking back!"

"Unless we lose the next match," Daisuke clarified.

"Not gonna happen, partner! We're on a roll!  And we'll be right 
back for the next battle, folks!  So hold onto those tickets, 
and get ready to make some more noise!"

- - - - -

Blackness swum around his head.  His body ached in a thousand 
places, but no wound hurt more than his jaw.  His vision was 
nothing but a dark, smeary blur, but he could hear voices.

"Be a doll now, Sephy-kun!"

"Why should I bother, Xelloss?"

"Oh come, come.  We're all a team.  And he's rather badly off."

A silken chuckle.  Then:  "I do not waste my energies on the 
incompetent."

"Now, now."  Chiding voice, full of laughter.  Red spots danced 
in the grey soup of his vision.  "We're all in this together.  
All for one, one for all, you know?  United we stand, divided we 
don't any of us get what we want.  All in the same boat!  We're 
just one big, happy..."

"Very well."  Mild annoyance.  "If it will silence your mindless 
prating."

"That's my Sephy-kun!" 

"REGEN."

Cleansing energy flowed into his blood, trickling through every 
nerve ending.  It did not ease the pain - rather the opposite.  
The agony intensified as magical energies forced his body to 
begin to knit itself together at an accelerated rate.  Still, 
the pain could be endured.  The shame of defeat was far, far 
worse.

M. Bison lay backstage, remembering.

That last strike had brought all things into clarity, set the 
pieces into place.  The blow was a mirror of the one he had 
received after his empire had fallen, the final punch which had 
ended his dreams of glory and conquest.  The same attack... the 
same attacker.

'So that's it,' he thought.  'So that's who you are.  That's how 
you survived... Pantyhose Tarou.'

Nobody had been more astonished than himself when Tarou had 
appeared before him that fateful day and broken his jaw.  That 
was because he alone knew that Tarou should have been dead.  
Bison had killed the meddling boy himself.

It had been on a tour of one of his orbital weapons platforms, 
the same ones which that infernal Jack Lysias had taken over and 
turned against him when everything had fallen apart.  He had 
gone up in a shuttle with a security team for a surprise 
inspection (all of Bison's inspections had been surprises - he 
liked it best that way), when there had been a glitch.  The 
artificial gravity had given out for a moment.  A pitcher of 
water had upended, and the contents splashed a guard...

Well, there was no mistaking that ridiculous minotaur mutation.

The gall of the boy, he had thought, the sheer reckless nerve.  
He had almost admired Tarou for his attempted infiltration of 
ShadowLaw, but it had not been enough to make him spare the 
interfering pest.  He had spent an exquisite few hours breaking 
the child's body, listening to his screams and rants and sobs of 
agony.  It hadn't been his masterpiece, as far as murders went, 
but it had been one of his better works.

And then, when the boy was barely breathing, his limbs crushed 
beyond repair and his spine shattered beyond healing, he had 
cycled Tarou through the airlock.  He had sent him to die in the 
coldness of space, to burst like an overripe grape in the 
vacuum, for his remains to burn to ash as they fell through the 
atmosphere.

'That was when it must have happened,' he realized.  'The boy 
bonded with Ultraman.  Who would have guessed?  A selfish, 
sneering little jackass like Pantyhose Tarou becoming the next 
Ultraman?  Absurd.'

And yet it had clearly happened.  The answer to the mystery of 
how Tarou had survived was now revealed.  And what's more, Tarou 
had meant him to know.  

That punch had been no accident.  "Do something about it," the 
punch had challenged.  "You little tin-pot tyrant, you puffed-
up, grinning moron.  You without your petty empire, you without 
your minions and lackeys.  Here I am.  Come and get me, if you 
dare.  Just try it."

'I will get you, boy,' Bison swore as the bones of his jaw 
crackled and popped, piecing themselves back together.  'You 
just wait and see.'

- - - - -

Hiroshi wiped the sweat away from his brow.  The enchanted 
spotlights of the Ultimate Arena did not give off the same sort 
of blistering heat that the ones in the UltraDome had, but he 
had worked up a fine lather this evening all the same.  The eyes 
of the Referee began to glow with their unearthly light again.  
Hiroshi took the cue, leaned into his microphone, and summoned 
his strength for the last leg of the evening.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen!" he belted to the shifting 
throng.  "The good guys are out in front, the hour has grown 
late, and it's time for our final match of the evening!  Are you 
ready to make some noise?"

In hundreds of languages, from billions of throats, came the 
deafening response.  Hiroshi rode the sound like a surfer 
catching a tidal wave.

"YEAH!" he cried.  "THAT'S what I want to hear!  All right, Ref, 
do the honors... who are you gonna give us to root for?  Give us 
our hero, man, so we can raise the roof!"

[I Do Not Dictate The Object Of The Witness' Cheers.  The Roof 
Of The Ultimate Arena Cannot Be Moved.]

"Forget about the roof, Chunks," Hiroshi responded. 

[Chunks?]

"Yeah!" he continued.  "Like a big chunk of stone!  And you know 
who we're gonna cheer, you dope!  Everybody's rooting for the 
Team of Life, right?"

[Incorrect.  The Majority Of Witnesses Have Displayed Their 
Support For The Team Of Life, But Not The Totality.  The Number 
Of Onlookers Who Support The Team Of Destruction Has Grown By 
Point Zero-One-Three Percent During The Course Of This 
Tournament.]

Hiroshi blinked and drew back.  "What?"

"I think he's right," Daisuke said.  "Look closely at the 
audience."

Hiroshi did as his partner suggested.  As he peered into the 
unfolding fractal paradox that was the audience at the Ultimate 
Arena, he began to see them.  Their banners peppered the crowd 
like the traces of the first few snowflakes on an asphalt street 
before a storm.  "Morrigan 3:16 - The REAL Rapture," read one.  
"Smoke 'Em, Alberto!" read another.  "Take Me To Your Promised 
Land, Sephiroth," was emblazoned on a third.

Hiroshi couldn't believe his eyes.  "Are they nuts?" he asked 
his friend.  "Why would anyone want to root for the destruction 
of the world?  I thought that was at least something we could 
all agree on here!"

"Some people have always prayed for Armageddon," Daisuke mused 
philosophically.  "They think they'll be in the handful who are 
saved.  Or maybe they just like the idea of the whole world 
being consumed in flames."

"But that's..."

"Sick?" the cynical announcer provided.  "There are a lot of 
sick people out there."

"Not that many," Hiroshi countered, shifting uncomfortably.  
"What was it, point zero-one-three percent?"

"Multiplied by six billion?" Daisuke said.  "That's quite a few, 
my friend."

"Well, forget them!" the energetic commentator blurted.  
"Because there ain't gonna be no destruction of the world, 
ladies and gents!  Not if this next fighter can help it!  Ref, 
who do we have fighting for Life?"

[The Time For The Sixth Match Is Nigh.  For Life Stands Lina 
Inverse.]

A supernova of cheers suddenly exploded from the crowd, and 
Hiroshi felt his heart lift.  Okay, maybe there were a few 
weirdoes out there who wanted the world to end, but most of the 
world knew better than that.  They roared and howled with joy as 
their former God, the sorcery genius Lina Inverse, stepped out 
into the spotlights, waving and beaming to them.

[For Destruction Stands Happosai.]

An equally enormous cavalcade of boos greeted the world's most 
notorious pervert.  He hopped into view like some bloated mutant 
flea, puffing on his pipe and ogling the audience for a flash of 
skimpy underwear.

"Now here's a fight I never thought I'd see," Daisuke observed 
dryly.  

"And you'd better not blink," Hiroshi asserted, "or you'll miss 
it!  Lina's gonna smear that little creep all over the End of 
Time, man!"

"Don't forget that Happosai's powers have increased," his 
partner warned.  "He may look like a joke, but he's one of the 
most dangerous martial artists we've ever seen."

[The Conditions Are Standard,] the Referee rumbled.  [The 
Setting Is The Island Of Bikini Of Planet Earth.]

Hiroshi's eyebrows shot up.  "There's an island called Bikini?  
I'd almost believe that the Ref has a sense of humor buried 
under there after all!"

"A sense of irony, maybe," Daisuke told him.  "If you paid any 
attention in history class, you'd know that it isn't what you're 
thinking."

As the rune sphere with the names of both fighters emblazoned 
upon it rose into the air, the floor of the Arena twisted and 
transformed to reveal a tropical desert island. It was hardly 
what one would call a paradise.  The plants that grew along the 
sands and amongst the boulders there seemed somehow afflicted - 
bent and warped and sparse, radiating a strange, uneasy sense of 
sickness. 

"I hope it's not dangerous," Daisuke said.

"Why would it be dangerous?"

"Because the real Island of Bikini is a radioactive mess," he 
informed his partner, and the attending crowd.  "They used it 
for atomic weapons testing back in the 1950's.  It hasn't been 
declared safe for the people who once lived there to move back."

In an unusually subdued voice, Hiroshi simply said:  "Oh."

[The Contestants Will Come Forth.]

Lina and Happosai materialized facing each other.  The elderly 
little martial artist stared about in a sort of frantic 
disappointment as he took in the bleak scenery.  "THIS is it?" 
he wailed.  "This is Bikini Island?  But this... this is..."

Lina smirked and flicked a strand of hair back.  "Sorry to 
disappoint you, old timer.  You were expecting maybe Honolulu?"

Whatever sick fantasies had been bouncing about in that demented 
head collapsed like sugar cakes in a hard rain.  The shriveled 
master shuffled around and pouted, kicking despondently at the 
tortured sands with a diminutive foot.  After a brief period of 
sulking, though, his eyes began to sparkle again, and he turned 
his attention to Lina Inverse.

"Well," he wheezed, "at least there's ONE pretty lady on the 
deserted island with me!" He leered at Lina.

"I don't think I've ever been less happy to have someone say I 
was pretty," Lina muttered to herself.

And then, the Referee spoke...

][ FINAL ULTRA MATCH #6
][ LINA INVERSE vs. HAPPOSAI
][ FIGHT!

Happosai clasped his hands together, his huge eyes shining.  
"Oh, this will be wonderful!" he croaked.  "Lina-chan, don't you 
worry!  I'll bring you to my new planet once we're done!  All 
the pretty ladies can come to Happy's World!"

"Happy's... world..." Lina choked, her eye twitching.

"All the prettiest girls!" the ancient lecher babbled.  "All the 
lovely, ripe young things, and nothing to wear but the finest 
silky undies!  The lacey bras, the satin panties, the mountains 
and mountains of sheer, silken treasures!  And I will be the 
benevolent king - no, emperor! - of this paradise, with the 
royal duty to inspect each and every lady's wardrobe, to run my 
hot little hands over their..."

"I DON'T WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS!" Lina suddenly bellowed.  In a 
Hulk-like display of physical strength, she hefted a large 
boulder from the sands and hurled it towards the fantasizing 
pervert.  The immense rock landed with a ponderous thud.

Roars of cheering burst from the crowd - female voices seemed to 
dominate this round of applause, for some reason.

"Wow!" Hiroshi boggled.  "Did Lina get a strength power-up from 
the Arena or something?"

"No," Daisuke said.  "I think she was just really pissed."

Hiroshi seemed to think that was plausible.  "Well, the idea of 
Happosai having his own world would do that to just about any 
woman, I think."

Lina stood on the sands, panting from exertion and glaring 
angrily.  Her body trembled from the rush of adrenaline.  "Is 
he... down?" she gasped.

A moment later, the sorceress shrieked as she felt something 
pinch her butt.  

"Whatta cutie!" Happosai cackled.  "Can't keep my hands off a 
redhead!"

"DIL BRANDO!" Lina barked, snapping off the spell as she whirled 
to face her withered foe.  A perfect circle of earth exploded 
underneath the toad-like martial artist, sending his body 
hurtling through the air.

Lina swooned a bit from the unexpected headrush which followed 
the casting of her spell.  'It's just like Ranma said,' she 
thought.  'He drained some of my energy.'

Saotome Ranma had approached her backstage after the fight 
between Duo and Bulleta.  She could tell the boy's pride was 
still smarting from having been excluded from the team, which 
made his decision to talk to her all the more admirable.  "Yo, 
Lina," he'd said, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his voice 
grim.  "I gotta talk to you about the old goat."

The conversation which followed had been very informative.  
Happosai, according to Ranma, fought very differently depending 
on the gender of his foe.  Against a man, he was a pint-sized 
martial arts monster.  But he didn't actually "fight" women.  
Rather, he sort of terrorized them into submission with his 
perverted antics.

Ranma had made a guess about how the power-up effect of the 
Arena would affect Happosai's abilities.  Normally, the founder 
of Anything-Goes Martial Arts drew his strength from his debased 
rampages, feeding off the auras of women for his own energy.  
Ranma had figured that in the Ultimate Arena, that ability would 
be magnified.  Happosai would be able to not only empower 
himself, but to drain the strength off any woman he touched, 
like some sort of nasty little vampire.

He had trained a student with a similar talent, Ranma had told 
her, which required the use of circular coins, but he had 
expected that Happosai wouldn't require any such props in the 
Arena.  And he'd been right.

She'd put a protective spell on her clothing to help guard her 
against that potential danger, but obviously it wasn't enough.  
Even through her cape and the enchantments on her clothes, 
Happosai's brief touch had cost her a significant portion of her 
vitality.  Lina was a sorceress, so she had a lot of energy 
still left in the tank, but she couldn't afford to let the 
grotesque old lecher near her.

Lina watched her foe arc through the air from the Dil Brando.  
He was like a plug of solid rubber, Ranma had said - you could 
knock him around a lot, but actually hurting him wasn't easy.  
And he could dodge with the best of them.

'But he can't dodge now,' she thought grimly.  'Not until he 
lands.  So let's make the most of it!'  "FIREBALL!" she cried, 
extending her palms forward and unleashing her most reliable 
offensive spell.

The flaming magical projectile hurtled into the sky, tracking 
onto the tumbling Happosai like a guided missile.  

"Whoo!" he cackled.  "I knew you were a hottie!  Happo-Quick 
Change Technique... Flying Squirrel!"

He spun in the air, and suddenly his outfit blurred and changed.  
Coarse, wiry fuzz coated his body, a tail sprouted from below 
his belt, and flaps of cloth stretched between his puny arms and 
legs.  And in an instant, he wasn't tumbling out of control any 
more.  The wrinkled little monster was flying.  

"Happo-Quick Change?" Hiroshi spat incredulously as he watched 
the ancient pervert swoop and dive away from the Fireball.  
"What the hell is that?"

"Happosai has always considered himself a master of disguise," 
Daisuke noted.  "So long as he disguises himself as something 
sort of stunted and gross, that is."

"Great," Hiroshi growled.  

Lina had the ability to guide her Fireballs in flight, but 
Happosai was simply too maneuverable.  The spell left bright 
orange streaks in the air as it sizzled by on several passes, 
but eventually the magical energy waned, and the spell faded out 
of existence.

"Comin' at ya!" Happosai shrieked.  He tucked into a power dive 
and plummeted towards Lina Inverse's chest, fingers spread to 
clutch.  

"AACK!" she cried. "BOMB DI WIND!"

It was a fast spell, though hardly her most powerful.  The 
accelerated ram of air smacked into the charging Happosai, 
sending him tumbling to the ground across the desolate sands, 
but otherwise not causing much damage.  She had, at least, 
knocked him out of the air.

She decided to follow up with something stronger.  "BLAST ASH!" 
she called.  A wave of darkness extended from her hands, filled 
with crimson streaks of sizzling energy.  

"Happo-Quick Change... Toad!" the pervert croaked.  One powerful 
hop took him clean out of range of the spell.

'Something faster,' Lina thought, trying to track the speeding 
form of her enemy.  "FLARE LANCE!" she tried.  A blinding burst 
of fire hummed forth from her hand, its sizzling tip seeking her 
sprightly foe.

He leaped just out of reach.  "Happo-Quick Change... Monkey!" he 
yelped.  

Lina watched him scurry around in his little monkey suit.  The 
old bastard was fast, really fast, and his movements were so 
erratic that she could hardly draw a bead on him.  'Fine,' she 
thought.  'Just have to use a spell with such a wide area of 
effect that he can't possibly dodge it.'

"Lina-chan!" the monkey-Happosai sang.  "Take me in your arms, 
sweetie!"

She held her ground as he scampered towards her, waiting for the 
last possible moment.  When she was certain there was no 
possible way he could get out of range, she focused her 
concentration down to a razor edge.  To pull this off, she'd 
have to snap two spells off in immediate succession - otherwise, 
she'd get caught in the radius of her own attack.

"LEVITATION!  MEGA-BRANDO!"

The Mega-Brando was a far more powerful variant of her trusty 
old Dil Brando spell.  An explosion of volcanic proportions 
suddenly shredded the beach, sending shockwaves of immense force 
across the beach and ripping the air with thunder.  Huge plumes 
of debris launched themselves into the sky, and Lina went with 
them, carried just ahead of the force of the blast by her 
Levitation spell.  

She slowed her ascent as she cleared the spell's radius, 
watching the dust billow and churn from the force of the 
explosion.  "Did I get him?" she asked herself.

"I think you got him!" came a rusty voice from her shoulder.  
She turned her head, and found herself staring straight into the 
bulbous eyes of Happosai.

She screamed in horror.  "BURST RONDO!" she screeched angrily, 
letting fly a wide spray of tiny magical projectiles as she 
tumbled away from the repellant little troll.  He brayed his 
ear-grating laugh and dodged away effortlessly, bouncing down to 
the ground and dancing away from her attack with contemptuous 
ease. 

'All right,' she told herself.  'Time for the backup plan.'

When she'd talked to Ranma, he had told her that she shouldn't 
just assume that she could throw out a pair of underwear for 
bait and hope to end the fight.  That worked some of the time 
with Happosai, but when he was fighting for real, he could bring 
his lascivious urges under control and focus on the battle past 
such distractions.  "You'll have to come up with somethin' 
special," the young man had informed her soberly.  "Somethin' 
that catches him by surprise."

She thought she had a plan that might just do the trick.

"RAY WING!" she incanted.  A bubble of magical force surrounded 
her, and the spell gave her the power of flight.  It took a fair 
amount of energy to maintain the Ray Wing, but for the moment 
she needed mobility more than firepower.  

"Oh, Happosai!" she called, waving to the nasty little fossil.  
"Say, old timer, you know where we are?  Or rather, WHEN we 
are?"

"What?" he replied, confused.

"We're at the End of Time!" she informed him.  "And guess what 
that means?  All sorts of interesting flotsam and jetsam from 
throughout history washes up here.  If you're a sorcery genius, 
which I happen to be, you can find the most extraordinary things 
drifting about here at the terminus of history."

His eyes bulged at her.  "Say, like what?"

From the secret pouches within her cape, Lina drew forth what 
appeared to be a very skimpy silk toga.  "Like this!" she said.  
"Helen of Troy's nightie, if I don't miss my guess.  One of the 
most beautiful women in history.  Face that launched a thousand 
ships, and a body to go with it!"

A trickle of drool escaped Happosai's withered lips.

"Eh, but who wants something like that?" she chimed with a 
shrug.  "BOMB SPRID!" 

A sudden swarm of tiny enchanted sparks flared from her hand, 
blasting the garment into a thousand little shreds.

Happosai let out a strangled noise.  "Stop it!" he wailed.  "You 
can't do that!"  

He rushed towards her, but for all his speed she still could 
outstrip him with the Ray Wing.  She circled over the lapping 
waves, then floated higher.  "And how about this?" she taunted.  
She drew forth a translucent blue teddy, all satin and lace, and 
let it sway in the breeze.   

Happosai's eyes fixed like laser sights on the garment.  
"What... what is it?"

"A little memento from Hollywood!" Lina announced.  "Ms. Lauren 
Bacall wore this number while she was filming one of her big 
pics.  'To Have and Have Not,' I think?  You know how to 
whistle, don't you Happosai?"

The ancient martial artist let out a shrill wolf-whistle in 
response and hurled himself towards her.  "BABY!" he croaked.  
"Come to papa!"

"DIGU VOLT!" Lina chanted.  Sizzling arcs of electricity 
enfolded the garment in deadly blue fingers, reducing it utterly 
to ash.

Several agonized groans drifted from the male members of the 
audience.  In one of the seats, Ms. Bacall (still a very 
handsome woman in her golden years) smiled a secret little smile 
to herself.  She was the only one in the Arena who now knew for 
a fact that Lina was simply making all this up.

"And here's something from a little closer to home," Lina 
teased, drawing forth another antique pair of underwear, this 
one bright red.  "You've heard of the famous Lady Aboshi from 
the histories, right?  Very beautiful woman... wore this before 
she lost the arm..."

"NO!" Happosai howled, lunging again.

"FLARE ARRROW!" Lina cried, and the silk burst into flames.

The Master of Anything-Goes Martial Arts sailed through a cloud 
of drifting ashes, a stricken look of horror on his face.  And 
then the look changed, twisting his wrinkled features into an 
expression far darker and more dangerous.  

The tiny form of Happosai stood on the sands, miniscule hands 
balled into fists, his eyes cast down to the ground.  He 
trembled from head to toe, quivering with emotion as he gathered 
his energy.  Lina could feel the battle aura rising from his 
body, and she brought herself down to land.  

"Lina..." he growled, his voice low and menacing.  "Lina... you 
have made me, VERY... VERY... ANGRY!"

And he looked up, his eyes blazing with terrifying rage.  His 
battle aura flared like a bomb burst, and suddenly he seemed to 
grow.  A shimmering, pulsing version of Happosai expanded like a 
balloon, growing to monstrous proportions, towering over Lina 
Inverse like an enraged dinosaur.  

Lina was not remotely intimidated.  Large foes hardly impressed 
her any more, not at this stage in her illustrious career.  
Based on her discussion with Ranma, this had been exactly what 
she'd hoped Happosai would do.

'Good,' she thought with satisfaction.  'Should be a cinch to 
hit now.'

She spared a quick glance at Xelloss.  He was watching her with 
intent interest, which was what she'd wanted.  It was time, she 
decided, for a little sleight-of-hand... and time to see if he 
could see into her thoughts.   

After Xelloss had announced the Tournament and destroyed the 
UltraDome at the last ReBoot, Lina had made her way back to her 
homeworld for several days.  She knew Xelloss was desperately 
curious about what she'd been doing back there.  It was time, 
she felt, to give him an answer.  Not the whole answer, of 
course, and not the true answer, but enough of a head fake that 
he would end up looking in the wrong direction.

She gathered her energies, swept her hands into the mystic 
patterns, and faced Happosai.  "ZELAS... BREED!" she announced.

A streak of energy, thin as a wire and impossibly bright, lanced 
forth from her fingers.  It impacted with the towering form of 
the enraged Happosai, and suddenly the sky seemed to tear itself 
apart.  Wave upon wave of coruscating power blasted the 
perverted old master, hammering him with relentless, unspeakable 
force.  The ground quaked, rocks burst asunder, trees flew from 
their roots.  

"Wow oh WOW!" Hiroshi exclaimed.  "What the heck was THAT?"

From the dugout from of the Team of Destruction, Xelloss 
frowned.

She turned to face him, barely paying attention to the Referee 
as he administered the ten-count to the smoking briquette of 
Happosai.  "Oh, yes," she said casually to the Mazoku.  "The 
Zelas Breed's a nice spell, but doesn't normally pack that much 
punch.  Only, it draws its strength from your old boss, 
Xelloss."

"Lina-chan," the purple priest scolded, but his smile seemed 
somewhat strained.  "What did you go and do?"

"Visited some temples," she told him.  "Made a few deals.  
Learned a few secret spells.  The Beastmaster told me to say 
'hi.'  She's very interested in what you've been up to lately."

"That was extremely naughty of you," he chided.  

She grinned broadly.

'That's right,' she thought.  'The best thing about that story 
is it's true.  I did convince the priests of Zelas Metallium, 
the Beastmaster Lord of the Mazoku, to teach me some of their 
forbidden black magic.  And for the time being, those spells are 
going to be a lot stronger, as long as I'm working against you.  
Go and check up, if you dare, Xelloss.  It's all true.'

The Mazoku had regained his composure, but Lina knew she had him 
thinking.  'He can't read my mind,' she thought triumphantly.  
'He drew my power out somehow and fed it to B-ko, but he still 
doesn't know my thoughts.' She wondered if he would really be 
crazy enough to go back to their own world and risk being 
captured, just to see what new magic Lina had learned.
 
'What you don't know,' she thought, 'is that I did more than 
that when I was back home.  A LOT more.  But you'll find out, 
Xelloss.  I may be wrong, but I have a feeling that it's going 
to come down to you and me again one last time.  And I'm ready 
for you.  I'm ready to finish you off for good.'

But she didn't have much time to think about her plans any more.  
The flood of cheers caught her in its current, sweeping her 
along as the frazzled population of planet Earth mustered their 
strength for one final burst of adulation.  It was a pure noise, 
a sweet sound, a thunderous roar of limitless happiness and 
relief.

And yet within this vast tower of applause, Lina could hear the 
faint, discordant rhythm of those who did not share in the joy 
of the moment.  It was like some dark worm coiling its thin 
body, unseen, through the delight of the majority.  They were 
out there, the ones who ached for destruction to triumph.  They 
were comparatively few in number, but to Lina they seemed like 
the beginnings of some dangerous infection, something that must 
be checked early before it gains momentum and begins to burn out 
of control.  

She turned and looked back to her team, and her eyes focused on 
Mary.  

'I can't do anything about this,' she thought, her ears catching 
the faint whisper of corruption amidst the torrent of cheers and 
love.  'I can fight the battles, but the hearts of the people 
are not my department.  That's up to you, Mary.'

From the announcer's table, Hiroshi shouted something into the 
microphone about what an incredible night it had been.  Daisuke 
made some comment in reply, but nobody could really hear them.  
The tumult of victory swept their words away in a jubilant 
storm.

[The First Stage Is Completed,] the Referee droned, and in spite 
of the colossal swell of applause, the gargoyle's words came 
across clearly to every ear.  [The Count Stands:  Four Victories 
For The Prophet Of Life, Two Victories For The Prophet Of 
Destruction.]

The audience redoubled its howls of triumph.

[Seven Days Shall Pass,] the Referee asserted.  [The Second 
Stage Of The Tournament At The End Of Time Shall Resume.  The 
Invitations Shall Be Distributed.  Now, The Witnesses Will 
Depart.]

And with that, the stands were empty.  Only the two teams and 
their staff remained.

The sudden absence of noise after the maelstrom of applause left 
a deafening vacuum in its wake.  Hiroshi's head spun, as if 
someone had actually hit him in the ears with a hammer.  "Er..." 
he said, his voice sounding unspeakably lonely in the empty 
silence of the Arena.  "That's it, then?"

[The First Stage Is Completed.]

Hiroshi glared at the gargoyle.  The celebration was probably 
continuing back on Earth, and would keep going long into the 
night and morning around the world.  But to him, it felt as if 
the emotionless thing that called itself Referee had violated 
some sacred ritual, snapping the festivities off in the middle 
before they could really come to their natural conclusion.  He 
felt deeply cheated.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," he said to the empty stands.  
"It's been an awesome evening.  Don't you dare miss the show 
next week.  We'll have more Ultraviolence coming your way."

He felt Daisuke's hand pat his shoulder.  "Let's just hope 
things keep going this well."  His voice echoed hollowly off the 
walls of the great stone chamber.  "The Team of Destruction 
isn't going to take this lying down."

"They won't have much choice, my man!" Hiroshi replied, a last 
surge of gusto creeping back into his tired voice.  "Our guys 
are gonna put them on their backs!  You just watch."

"We'll all be watching," Daisuke noted.

"That we will!  Folks, my name is Hiroshi, and this is my 
partner, Daisuke. For all of us here at MCTFF Ultra..."

"...from the Ultimate Arena at the End of Time..."

"...we bid you goodnight."

- - - - -

At the End of Time, the fighting had concluded, but amongst the 
forces of Life the celebration carried on into the endless 
night.  A feast had somehow appeared, complete with champagne 
and beer and little party hats.  The crew of This Old Dojo, with 
more than a little help from Marlo, had managed to furnish the 
largest chamber backstage until it felt downright warm and 
friendly. 

Mary laughed and cheered and hugged, but most of all she danced.  
The music swept her along in joyous, buoyant waves as she spun 
from partner to partner.  She danced with Ranma, with Shingo, 
with Hiroshi, then with Bean, before she moved on to cut the rug 
with Lei Wulong, then Li Ping, then Dan, then Yaga.  She took a 
break to talk about strategy with Washuu, Gally, and Ifurita, 
then managed to take a few bites off the banquet table before 
Lina and her friend, Gourry, inhaled their way through about 
twenty courses.

Nakoruru tied ribbons in her hair.  Tarou convinced Washuu to 
let her have a few sips of bubbly, which went straight to her 
head like a draught of liquid euphoria.  The Card Captors put on 
a little magic show, narrated expansively by Kero.  And the 
party whirled and sparkled on into the late hours.

She noticed, however, that a few faces were missing.  

Ultraman had disappeared, but that was not too big a surprise.  
The Giant of Light didn't have the same problem of limited time 
that he had to put up with while he was on Earth, but he still 
probably needed to rest and recharge in whatever manner his kind 
required.  She knew he would be there when they needed him.

The other absent member of her team was to be found out at the 
edge of the Arena, looking up into the dark shadows which had 
enfolded the dome.

"Sagat?" Mary called as she approached the lanky, muscular 
kickboxer.

He turned his head slightly to look at her.  "Oh.  You."

"I didn't see you at the celebration," she said, drawing up 
beside him.  

The battle-scarred warrior snorted.  "I am not given to 
frivolity, girl," he told her curtly.  "The fighting is not 
done."

"It is for the time being," Mary said.  "And there's a lot to be 
happy about."

In the faded light of the Ultimate Arena, she thought she saw 
some momentary hint of a softer emotion flicker across Sagat's 
face.  Sadness, perhaps, or regret?  "They would not welcome me 
at their revels," he told her in his gruff voice.

"They might," she offered.  "We're all on the same side now."

"No," Sagat insisted.  "That may be the case, but there are 
things I have done which cannot be easily forgiven.  They will 
tolerate me, they respect my strength enough for that, but I am 
not one of them."  And then his face hardened again.  "Nor do I 
wish to be."

"Because they aren't 'true warriors?'" she suggested.  "You 
can't really say that anymore.  Not in light the responsibility 
they've chosen to bear."

He worked his jaw for a moment, but said nothing.

"You have caused much harm," she said gently.  "But you are not 
so far gone that there is no hope for redemption."

"Redemption?" he sneered.  "And what makes you think I want to 
be 'redeemed?'"

"Is there nothing that brings you joy anymore, Sagat?" the young 
messiah asked.

"Victory," he told her, his one eye glittering in the shadow-
light.  "My own strength.  Laying low my enemies."

"Victory," she told him, "is what we're celebrating."

He studied her thoughtfully for a long time, his breaths long 
and slow like the changing of the tides.  "No," he finally said.  
"I will not join the party.

"If you change your mind," Mary told him, "you'll be welcome."  
A smile lit her face, and she added:  "And I'll dance with you.  
I'm a pretty good dancer."

He scoffed, but she thought that she heard a trace of genuine 
laughter mixed in with his old, practiced scorn.  She smiled at 
him one last time, patted him briefly on a spring-steel bicep, 
and then turned to make her way back to the noise, and light, 
and music.

- - - - -

Lain had left the festivities early.  She was happy for the 
successful night, but she was not much of a party girl.  The 
young computer genius made her way to the little room within the 
backstage chambers she'd claimed for her own.

Out of habit, she booted up her Navi.  It informed her, as it 
had since she'd come to this place, that it could not connect 
with the Wired.  No Internet access at the End of Time, it 
seemed.  She fiddled with the settings a bit, but without much 
enthusiasm.  The Navi could connect to Nabiki's laptop, the 
onboard systems of Gundam DeathScythe, and the computers that 
the other members of This Old Dojo had brought along, but really 
there wasn't much out there for the Navi to see.  Without the 
Wired, it was pretty pointless.

'Kind of like me,' she thought despondently.

She was grateful to be here, of course.  She'd really 
appreciated the gesture Nabiki had made by inviting her and all 
the other staff along.  The problem was, there wasn't a whole 
lot for them to do.  There was nothing to market, no ratings to 
track, no sales to calculate.  The show put itself on.  Nobody 
had to man the spotlights or run the cameras, nobody needed to 
cue the music or dump more dry ice into the fog generators.  
Everything was handled by the unfathomable forces which had 
created the Arena in the first place.

'It's the End of Time,' she thought wearily.  'And I'm 
obsolete.'

Then, unexpectedly, her Navi chimed.

Lain blinked and focused on the screen.  Someone was opening up 
a text-based chat session with her.  Her fingers flowed with 
fluid grace over the keyboard, and then she gasped in 
astonishment.  The Navi told her from where the signal had 
originated.  A surprised smile lit her face like sunlight.

--> Hiya, kiddo! <--

She spoke her response into the microphone.  "Is it really you?"

--> Who else would it be?  How're ya doin' over there, little 
teddy-bear girl? <--

"Bored," she replied immediately.  "I'm a fifth wheel."

--> Well, maybe I can help you get rollin', then. <--

"Do you have something in mind?" she asked, her voice taut with 
growing excitement.  

--> An idea or two.  First off, what do you think about hacking 
into that big gargoyle thing? <--

She blinked in surprise.  "The Referee?  It's not a computer.  
Is it?"

--> Sure acts like a computer.  A pretty simple AI, I'd say, 
programmed to do its thing here at the End of Time by somebody 
with no real sense of humor. <--

"I think it's magical, though," Lain said dubiously.  

--> Probably.  But you ARE the greatest hacker ever born, kiddo.  
And I think I can help you get a line into that thing's 
calcified head.  You willing to give it a shot? <--

She felt tears well in her eyes as her smile widened.  She 
couldn't believe how good she suddenly felt, how vital and 
alive.  "I've got nothing else to do," she said, her voice 
hitching.  "Let's go for it."

--> That's my girl!  Say, I've got someone here who wants to say 
"hi" to you. <--

"Yeah?"

--> Squeak!  Squeak! <--

Lain's muffled, delighted giggles echoed through the hidden 
corridors a the End of Time.

- - - - -

"That was an embarrassment," Shockwave Alberto asserted angrily 
as the Team of Destruction materialized back at their hidden 
fortress.  

"Hey," the undead Johnny Cage said with his movie-star grin.  
"Don't look at me, baby.  I held up MY end."

"Me too!" chimed in Bulleta.  She beamed up at the undead actor 
with glittering cherubic eyes.  "Wow, Mr. Cage, you were so 
cool!  I really loved it when your body parts came off!  And the 
way your guts spewed out of your stomach like that, all slimy 
and wriggly!  It was so CUTE!"

"Kid, I may be dead," Cage told her, chucking her on the chin in 
a Bogart-esque sort of way, "but you still scare the hell out of 
me."

"Oh, THANK you!" she squealed in glee.  "You're so nice!  I'm 
glad we both did so good tonight!"

"Unlike some people," Dark Schneider commented, shooting a sharp 
glance towards M. Bison.  The crimelord glowered, but his jaw 
had not mended itself sufficiently for him to speak yet.

"Now, now," Xelloss said, waving his hands in a placating 
gesture.  "Let's not get all ruffled about this, shall we?"

"We will not lose this tournament," Sephiroth insisted, his 
Mako-blue eyes flaring.

"Of course not!" the Mazoku agreed.  "Things went pretty much as 
I expected tonight.  Don't worry.  It'll all come together."

All eyes focused on him intently.

That, at least, was the truth.  Things had gone more or less as 
he had anticipated.  The Life fighters would come in with a big 
wave of save-the-world enthusiasm, heads full of heroic dreams 
and shining ideals and all that silly rot.  The crowd would 
cheer for them, they'd have the momentum, and they'd take the 
day.  He'd feared he would only come away from this with one 
victory, so on the balance he counted himself lucky.

But Team Life's momentum couldn't last forever.  Emotions burned 
out, and the creeping cancer of dread endured.  Already, the 
roots of doubt and darkness were spreading.  And the rest of the 
tournament would be a different story entirely.

As far as his team was concerned, their personalities would 
catalyze a different sort of shift.  He had expected that most 
of them weren't truly behind this whole effort, not a hundred 
percent.  They were all bad apples in their own way, but it took 
a rather extreme sort to be willing to destroy the world.  Some 
of them, he expected, had been holding back without even 
realizing it.  But that would end.  Now, with these defeats, 
their prides had been stung, their fragile egos singed.  Lust 
for the prize had brought them to him, but now their hatred and 
shame would carry them forward.  Now, they were truly committed 
to the team.

Only a few things had surprised him, really.  Lina's little 
revelation had caught him off guard, but that in and of itself 
wasn't too big a shock.  He would have been disappointed if Lina 
didn't have a trick or two up her tender little sleeve.  It's 
what made her so charming.

No, the real surprise had been the choice of the Prophet of 
Life.  Washuu's daughter, Mary?  He hadn't anticipated that.  
Why had they chosen her, a relative unknown?  Yes, she'd 
displayed some powers in the course of Ultra, and it was awfully 
strange that she'd grown up so suddenly like that...

Very strange, indeed.

He studied his troops, who were all eyeing him intently, and he 
let his gaze linger for a moment on Sephiroth.  He recalled that 
the Son of Jenova had showed a rather intense interest in Mary 
during the previous seasons of Ultra, an unusual fixation which 
had never been properly explained.  He expected he might have to 
have a little chat with the One-Winged Angel.  A delicate chat, 
to be sure - Sephiroth was an important member of the team, and 
perhaps the only one that Xelloss thought might even be able to 
take him in a fight on a very bad day.  But he felt they might 
discover that they had some common interests, he and the Son of 
Jenova, if they had the chance to discuss things between them.  
Just a friendly palaver between the two of them, when the 
opportunity presented itself.  He might find out more of what he 
needed to know.

This wasn't the time, though.  His team was waiting to be led.

"They can have this week," Xelloss told the Team of Destruction.  
He did something which few had ever seen - he opened his eyes, 
and he smiled.  It wasn't the relentlessly cheery grin he wore 
most of the time to disarm the suspicious.  This was his true 
smile, his Mazoku smile, and there was no charm in it at all.

"Next week," he whispered, "we get really nasty."

- - - - -

Most of the world celebrated and cheered.  They drank champagne 
and wine and ale, they roasted fowl and cattle to eat, they sang 
thousands of songs and danced thousands of dances, until their 
energy was spent and they slept, and dreamed.

Most, but not all.

The shrines began to flicker to life.

One man, to take but a single example, decided the Internet 
shrines were not enough.  Temples of electrons, cathedrals of 
photons... these things were too easy to build.  He believed 
that something far more concrete and tangible was required.  

His shrine started as a place of wood, with stones to support 
the foundations of the wall.  He spread his word, and others who 
thought as he did came.  They had chosen their savior.  
"Alberto," they whispered.  "The One-Eyed.  The Impacter.  The 
Magnificent.  Alberto."  The whispers became a chant, the chant 
became a prayer.

The man seared out his own eye with a burning brand.  His 
screams of agony and rapture rose into the night and lodged 
themselves in the dreams of all who heard.  By dint of this act 
of madness - dedication, they called it - he earned his place as 
their leader.  

They didn't know that much about Shockwave Alberto, these new 
converts to the cause, only what had been gleaned from the Ultra 
bio pages and the interviews in the sports magazines.  They knew 
there was something called Big Fire, and that Alberto was but 
one of Ten.  They knew he had a daughter whom he named after the 
sun.  The mysteries left them hungry for more, and sharpened 
their devotion like a whetstone sharpens a knife blade.

In their temple, they built a great bonfire, to honor the Big 
Fire which had given them their savior.  They threw in pictures 
of the hated champions of the puerile status quo, the Team of 
Life.  They threw in books of those whose opinions made them 
upset or uneasy.  They burned effigies of the sorts of people 
they had always despised.  And their one-eyed leader led them in 
a chant, which rose high with the embers to mingle with the 
stars in the darkness of the sky:  "Allegiance or death!  
Allegiance or death!  ALLEGIANCE OR DEATH!"

It was not the only such temple.

The appeared in many forms, to all of the members of the Team of 
Destruction.  To Xelloss the Prophet, to the Void and its 
Disciples, to the Legendary Samurai, to the new Queen of Hell, 
to Mr. Satan, to the Son of Jenova... all of them, even 
Happosai.  Leaders arose, and they spoke to their flocks, and 
though they spoke a hundred different languages and used a 
million different words, they all said the same thing.

"The end times are here.  Only a few will be saved.  We will be 
that few.  We are the Chosen.  We are the Elect.  We are 
special, deserving of salvation, while all others will perish.  
Follow the way of our savior, and we will be saved.  Stray from 
the path, and we will fall with the rest of the heathens.  
Follow, and be saved.  Follow."

Their numbers, still small, continued to grow.  And grow.  And 
grow.

- - - - -

Lina Inverse walked at her side.  Mary felt comforted by the 
sorceress' presence as she stepped into the center of the 
quiescent Arena.  The empty stone structure loomed above them, 
infinitely ancient and cold, and it seemed impossible that a 
short time ago it had been bursting with the drama of life and 
death.  

"I don't know if this is going to do any good," Lina told her 
softly.

"I know," Mary said.  "But I have to try."

The light in the Referee's eyes was so dim as to almost be 
indistinguishable in the gloom of the Ultimate Arena, but it had 
not gone out.  The thing was aware of them.

[Prophet of Life,] it greeted her.

She stepped forward to face it, craning her neck to look up at 
the thing's chiseled face.  "I have a few questions for you!" 
she called, her voice bouncing off flat stone and repeating her 
words in a score of quiet whispers.

[Ask.]  The gargoyle's voice cast no echoes.

"Who are you?" she demanded.  "Why are you doing this?"

[I Am The Referee. The Universes Are As One.  The Impacts Count 
Three.  The Two Afterworlds Have Fallen. Finally, The Prophet of 
Life Has Chosen Its Path.  All Signs Have Come To Be; The Time 
Is Upon Us.]

"That tells me nothing!" Mary insisted.

[This Is As It Was Prophesied To Be.]

"Whose prophecy?" she asked. 

The Referee did not reply.

"What gives you the right?" she cried, her voice full of 
profound, affronted rage.  "How dare you stake the lives of 
billions on a fighting tournament?  What gives you the 
authority?"

[The Tournament Is Not My Creation.  My Role Is Arbiter.  I Am 
The Referee.]

"WHO created this place?" Mary pressed.  "WHY must this happen?  
Who has the RIGHT?  WHO?"

Silence.

"It doesn't know," Lina told her gently.  "It's just a golem, 
Mary.  It can't tell us anything it wasn't programmed to say."

The young messiah wiped a tear away from her cheek and glared at 
the thing before them.  "I was afraid of that," she said, her 
voice trembling.  "But I had to try."

"Yeah," Lina agreed.  "Come on.  Let's get back to the team."

And they turned and left, their footsteps fading to silence as 
they made their way out of the Arena and returned to their 
companions.  As the final echoes of their passage diminished to 
silence, a small figure stepped out from behind the Referee.  

She wore white garments fringed with red, her hair was long and 
black, and she had a mallet slung across her back.  Had anybody 
been there to observe her, they might have recognized the slight 
figure as the goddess Skuld.  But had they been close enough to 
see her eyes, they would have realized that it was not her at 
all.  

"Are you sure you want to understand, Mary?" the Metatron asked 
quietly.  "You may not like the answers you find."



++++++++++++++++++++++++
MTCFF ULTRA #88 RESULTS:
++++++++++++++++++++++++

][ MARY is selected as the Prophet of Life
][ The TEAM OF LIFE is selected
][ UNDEAD JOHNNY CAGE defeats THE GREAT YAGA
][ B.B. HOOD defeats DUO MAXWELL
][ TIFA and BEAN defeat HAOHMARU and MORRIGAN
][ DAN defeats B-KO DAITOKUJI with the help of THE DDR MACHINE
][ ULTRAMAN seriously defeats MELVIN BISON
][ LINA INVERSE defeats HAPPOSAI

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AUTHOR'S NOTES
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One of the highlights in what has otherwise been a pretty dismal 
year for me has been writing Ultra.  I've really enjoyed the 
ride along this bizarre, mixed-up, super-crossover roller 
coaster, and I think it's been a great outlet for me to write 
for the sheer pleasure of it.  

Now, we're bringing it all to a close, and I think that's 
appropriate.  Ultra is reaching the natural end of its lifespan.  
I, for one, am honored to part of the final leg of the race.  
I'm grateful to Twoflower, not only for creating Ultra and 
inviting me to take part in it, but for putting me and Zach in 
the position of writing this particular episode.  We had to set 
a whole lot of precedent here for things to come, and it gave me 
a chance to put some ideas into motion.  How they play out 
remains to be seen... but that's the fun of Ultra, after all.

Various tedious real life difficulties have contributed to the 
delay of this chapter, and I won't bore you with the details.  I 
hope it was worth the wait.  

And finally, thanks to my partner Zach.  I know he had a rough
time squeezing this all into his schedule, but he came up with
some very good stuff in the end.  

- Grayson Towler
  12-22-01


Wow. Contributing to one of the biggest chapters in Ultra is certainly an 
honor to me. I enjoyed writing my scenes (and reading Grayson's, for that 
matter) far too much for any sane human. I think the conclusion of Ultra will 
be nothing short of pure, unadulterated, grandiose kick-ass, and to think 
that I was able to come along for the ride at all, let alone this very 
crucial aspect of it, is almost unbelievable. Not to mention that I was able 
to work with Mr. Towler, who I am convinced is God's very own incarnation of 
Pure Writing Excellence.

There were a lot of interferences in my personal life that delayed the hell 
out of this poor chapter, so if you need to crucify someone for waiting too 
long, make it me. That said, I want to express my feelings of thanks to 
Twoflower, Grayson, and the public at large. I haven't received any death 
threats yet, which seems an utterly amazing thing, but I know patience was 
getting thin. On the upside, this chapter is now being released on Christmas 
Eve. So Merry Christmas, if you're into that sort of thing.

I give thanks to the entire Impro chat room, who provided WAY too much 
information for me to individually credit. Also aiding in the Fight Against 
Zach's Ignorance are my personal friends Jekka and Cesar. Props are due, as 
well, to Twoflower, the man who started it all and entrusted this very 
important chapter to Grayson and myself and who, again, showed amazing 
patience the whole way through. Lastly, I thank my partner Grayson, for not 
writing a terrific part, but also being an excellent and honest sounding 
board.

There's not much more to go, but it'll be a blast. And to echo Grayson, I 
hope it was worth the wait.

- Zach Grafton
  12-23-01