Ranma 1/2 : Money A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne (All characters copyright Rumiko-sama, obviously. If I ever even considered claiming that these were my own characters I'd probably be thrown into a small cell where I'd be forced to eat my own soul to live.) $ I'll do the official author foreword in a moment, but first, a word from our sponsors... * A Note From Kensu: * What is this? Why did we do this? What is that stuff in the * inside of Twinkies? This header will answer this question. * 1>This is the result of a collabaration between four of the best * known Ranma fanfic authors on the 'net;. Me, Kensu, who wrote * Mamono Hunter Ranma 1/2 and Original Flavor. Stefan Gagne, who * wrote such memorable fanfics as "Wicked Garden" and "Ministry of * Confusion". The Legenedary John Walter Biles, who stunned the * world with "Putting your heart in the right place" "Elseworlds" * "Still Waters Run Deep" and many MANY others. And Roy Rim, who * graced the world with the lemon-psychological thriller "Split * Personalites" * 2>Why did we do this? Kensu (me) thought up the fact that there * has never been a Ranma 1/2 Halloween episode. Which isn't really * that strange, but I thought that it was about time someone wrote * one. After reading the Ninja High School 1995 Yearbook, I thought * it would be nice to have some of the more famous Ranma 1/2 * authors write a story based on Halloween. Thus, I sent out E- * Mails. The only authors who never replied were Christian Gadekan * and Karl Rim. Well, maybe next year. :) (Does anyone know Karl * Rim's updated address?) * 3>It's lard. No kidding, it's lard. OH NO, WE'RE GOING TO GET * SUED! :) $ (Author Foreword.) Disclaimer. It's not much of a Ranma 1/2 story, and I really do apologize in advance for that to my readers. It's not funny. It's not silly. It's not Takahashi. When approached with the idea of doing a Halloween Ranma story, I figured, 'GREAT! Horror! Always fun to write.' And I had planned on it being more Rumik in nature, but clearly I was developing a story which I liked -- but which wasn't fitting the criteria of the anime series in question. Instead of stopping, I continued, and got something of merit from it. This is a tale of human nature, the way the supernatural is totally natural, and the evils we do in the name of society and progress. It's a tale of the falling and rising of the soul. Perfectly appropriate material for Halloween, especially in a day and age where we move beyond silly, campy evil and into some more serious explorations of the topic. If you want to be entertained, move on. If you want to think, read on. And if this intro alone has scared you, that's a good sign. It means you're still alive. $ Nabiki cruised along, light coming from the car behind her glinting off the recently polished rear view mirror, glinting off her mirrored sunglasses, and glinting back into the road ahead of her. Anybody foolish enough to step in front of her Porsche as it whipped along the road at insane speeds would have noticed the eerie effect of her car having four headlights before they got turned into chiseled spam. The car behind her revved up, and shifted lanes. Apparently, it was some foolhardy moron, quite willing to try to outrun Nabiki's well tuned speedster. TRY, mind you. Fine, Nabiki thought, I'm game. Nobody can match me. The guy was driving a basic Japanese economy car. While Nabiki loved the Japanese economy and new lax governmental rules over business, she couldn't stand the cars. There was no style to them. No class. No price tags that stood out long after you had pulled the window sticker off, no invisible tags that screamed out, "I'm so stinking rich that I can not only own a car like this, but I can afford ANY speeding tickets I receive driving it, AND bribe any law enforcement types that object if I feel like it!" So, Nabiki gunned the engine, which purred and leapt at her will, lurching ahead on the road and sticking to it like peanut butter, sliding along smooth as teflon. Nabiki smiled, and waved a driving-glove covered hand to the car behind her which easily accelerated and cruised right in front of her, red tail lights glaring down Nabiki's optic nerve like brillo pads. Nabiki gaped. That car shouldn't be going that fast. And if it was, it meant Tendom had some serious business to get to to produce engines that could match it. She made a mental note. The car slowed down rather deliberately, to mock Nabiki's ill attempt to outrun it, light casting a nasty red firelight into her posh leather interior. Nabiki squinted, and tried to make out the license plate, so she could have her underground contacts crush this poor sot for daring to mock the CEO of Tendom. She had learned long ago to read the bar codes being placed on license plates nowadays, and read them from a distance of six car lengths. It was a helpful skill, and right now the tag seemed to read RS7734, diplomatic plate. A diplomat? Well, whoever he was, his taillights gave a final burst as he hit the brakes hard. Nabiki yelped and swerved, skidding to a halt, knowing full well that her car was designed more for power than crash safety. The annoying domestic car that nearly totalled her picked velocity and peeled out, leaving small flametrails behind its tires. She blinked. Working too late. Definitely. Seeing things. She reasserted her place on the road and sailed onward, towards home. $ "Lights," Nabiki requested, and the house illuminated itself. A delightful technology; she was glad her corporation had come up with it first and landed the patents before those wimps at Sony could. It was one of the last battles Sony bothered to fight before caving to Nabiki's money machine empire. Nabiki tossed her jacket on the couch. The servants could hang it up properly later; right now, she wanted a stuff drink and a good book. It was a rough week, what with three hostile takeovers and a legal battle over the rights to a genetic experiment which had tried to defect over to Greenpeace and escape. Nabiki managed to prove he was property via some careful research (not into ethics, mind you, research into finding the right lawyers for the task) and one or two well placed bribes, and that was that. Normally, a socialite and businesswoman could adjust to the hectic pace of life gradually. Not Nabiki. She was only twenty three. Fastest rise to the top of the business world in history, propelling technology and society at an equal speed. On the cover of People magazine, as well as Time and Fortune and Mad. It was quite an achievement. But still, it was tiring. She could handle the fatigue, though, knowing that millions of yen poured into her coffers every day. Nabiki kicked off her shoes, and collapsed on a chair. RS7734. There's one speed demon who'll be sorry he crossed her path, gaijin or not. She'd have to confiscate the car, of course, take it apart and see what makes it tick. But the whole situation disturbed her, for some reason... and since she paid people to do her thinking for her, she tapped her personal communicator. "Have my private therapist head to the foyer, please," Nabiki said, and within two minutes he was there. "Hai, madame chairwoman?" the doctor asked. He didn't resemble a doctor at all, really, since Nabiki didn't like the whole white lab coat deal. Her union of Tendom and Microsoft (and marriage to Bill, who of course became Tendou Bill) showed her new techniques to make business more comfortable and personable... but just as ruthlessly efficient. The doctor had all the tools he required, but they were hidden in better places than a nerdy, over- intellectual pocket protector. "I think I got a memory flashback, and I want you to explain it," Nabiki said. The doctor nodded, pulling out a small palmtop computer and pen. "Please describe your situation for the memory search." Nabiki detailed it, the car, the speed, the plates, the tail lights which she was still blinking to get rid of the spots caused by. The doctor fed it into the computer, ran a search on Nabiki's memory, and handed her the playback disc. "This is the results of the grep for cars bearing similar design or license plate," he said. "As usual, I will let you review at your leisure, and no record of my visit will show on your bill of health." Nabiki nodded, and the doctor left, his only task in life complete. It was vital that nobody found out about Nabiki's few little quirks. She had an image to maintain, after all. Any of her competitors that found out about the doctor would have to be destroyed. Those quirks were way too abnormal to even consider telling anybody but her private doctor (who she made a habit of keeping under memory surveillance, to prevent him from remembering her little problem for more than six weeks at a time). The dreams, the flashbacks; all usually consisting of the same thing, involving the same man, the man whose face she couldn't see. All she remembered was his laugh. It wasn't a nice laugh at all. It was a laugh she'd hear minor twangs of in people who hated her for destroying their lives and assimilating their companies. The laugh of an enemy. She made sure to edit the laugh out of a recording of her nightmares, and give it to her security forces. Anybody matching that laugh was to be shot on sight. No explanation why, and her guards fell in step at Nabiki's whim, paid extra not to have moral questions about their orders. They could worry about coverups later, if the laughing man was of any importance. Nabiki was not blind to second sight, and knew a prophetic dream when she saw one. Precautions were a good thing to have in such cases. $ Nabiki settled down to sleep, putting on her expensive but quite covering pajamas, which were more for her comfort than Bill's excitement. She didn't believe in bothering to arouse her husband, since the marriage was strictly for business reasons, and he slept every night in another bed. In Seattle. They'd swap love notes occasionally, ghost written, over the net so that packet sniffers could receive them. It was a game, in a way, an amusing ruse. Nabiki had to admit, Bill's ghost writers were VERY good. The perfect balance of bodice-ripper romance and tawdriness and good old fashioned lovey dovey talk. This almost made her regret marrying someone who couldn't write like that for real. But marriage is little more than route to divorce which is route to money, and she felt that eliminating the middleman of divorce and getting right to the money was better for everybody's images, on the whole. Money was all that really mattered in any relationship, anyway. She fingered the grep-recording the doctor had made, inserting it into her Tendom Dreemtyme machine. She replaced her normal pillow with the wiry Dreemtyme one, and signaled the machine to have her fall asleep within ten seconds. And she did. $ When you use the Dreemtyme, you're there. Experiencing one of your own memories. You don't remember who you 'really' are, in present day, until you wake up and analyze what you dreamed. So, Nabiki had no concerns as she wandered off to school that day, so long ago, in Nerima. (This was before it was levelled to make a colossal shopping mall, which draws more income than any of the pathetic businesses that were there before.) Nabiki herself had no concerns, but Saotome Ranma had many. He was In Cognito, in his usual pathetic disguise of a cold mask and really big glasses and really big breasts. Nabiki could see through it instantly, which always puzzled her, since others couldn't. There were only three girls in Nerima with pig-tails, and Ranma was the only one who had red hair. Didn't people notice these things? They couldn't ALL be sheep. "So, what're you trying to avoid now, Ranma?" Nabiki asked, falling in step beside him. "SHHH! I'm in disguise!" Ranma said, shocked Nabiki had noticed who she was. "Oh, you mean it's you, Saotome? Gosh, I thought I was addressing some other Ranma." "Careful, or you'll blow my cover. Whaddya want?" "Just curious as to what you did this time." "I didn't do nothin'!" Ranma balked. "It's all a misunderstanding." "Ah. The usual, in other words." "I was just avoiding Akane's lunch, as usual," Ranma said. "I went to Nekohanten instead to eat, since Shampoo was offering me a feast. Then when Ukyou and Akane show at Nekohanten, they demand to know why I wasn't eating THEIR feasts." "You forgot it was the anniversary of your arrival in town again, huh?" Nabiki asked, constantly wondering why some people chose to see that as a reason to celebrate. "Boy, no wonder Akane was mad." "Since they were gonna be overly sensitive girls again, I sneaked off," Ranma said. "I think I'm gonna have to stay female for awhile until this cools off. Sheesh, I HATE being a female." Nabiki's mind ticked away, twisting this situation with new angles, looking for a place she could intercede... and profit. She grinned. "Say, how about if I get you off the hook?" "Really? You can do that?" "Certainly." $ "And so, as you can see," Nabiki said, pointing to the group of doe-eyed children she had hired out of the local elementary school and dressed in rags, "Ranma was involved in a charity eat-a- thon being sponsored by Nekohanten. For every bowl he ate, these poor, impoverished children would receive a free meal." "How sweet of you, Ran-chan!" Ukyou smiled. "A real humanitarian. And such adorable little kids!" Akane considered this, but realized to attack this lie would mean insulting the kids... if it was true. "Yeah, whatever," she dismissed. "Err, yeah," Ranma said. Nabiki winced. Ranma was terrible at lying... the way he put one hand behind his head. The err, umm, well, yeah, I guess, uh-huh, hmm, uhh... sounds, grunts to strip away the carefully planned farce Nabiki had designed. Honestly, Ranma was of such little use, unless you planned on having him hit people for a living or some other physical activity. Akane sighed. "Alright. I see now. Come on, let's go home." "If you'll excuse us, Akane, Ranma and I need to finish a photo shoot with these kids for some paper," Nabiki lied. "We'll catch up later." Akane and Ukyou accepted this, and left. "Alright, kids, good job," Nabiki said, helping them get off the rags she gave them. "One lollipop each." The children beamed. Such stimulus/response little creatures, Nabiki thought sadly. The one on the left looked very much like her, way, WAY back when, in a time before... well, before the not- quite-such-a-landmark event of her mother's death. Nabiki didn't care after that about having parents. Dad was a sop. As long as she could make money and sustain herself, parentals weren't particularly needed. Kasumi'd clean the house and Nabiki could handle herself. She didn't miss her mother. Not one bit. No. "I can't believe they fell for it," Ranma said, snapping Nabiki out of her memory trip. "I thought I was a goner!" "Ranma, Ranma, Ranma. You have never quite learned the way of the lie." "Lying is dishonest. I'd never want to stain my honor as a martial artist with it," Ranma said, crossing his arms. "Hate to say it, but you just did, Ranma-kun," Nabiki smiled. "Look, it's not so bad. The kids are gonna get fed, just by their parents. Just a little white lie, and it doesn't hurt; if anything this benefits you." "Benefit?" "Certainly! Now, you're a humanitarian. What better way to keep the fiancees from getting mad at you? Remind them of your noble service." "What noble service?" "This one, of course. Just tell yourself you really did it, smile, and nod your head. The truth is just a lie on fact with a slight bias in one direction or another. And this is good bias, right?" "Hmmm... that makes sense," Ranma said, nodding, but not quite getting it. "Alright, that works. I'll go with it. You sure do know a lot, Nabiki." "One must be wise of the ways of the world and ready to accept them if they want to succeed in it," Nabiki smiled. "We don't live in the dark ages anymore, Ranma." $ The Dreemtyme must have grepped too wide, because the car didn't arrive until later that day. Nabiki was busy roaming up and down the shopping district, taking notes. As an avid consumer of technology, she often would critique features and pricing and even store location... little cliff notes for when SHE was a business tycoon, things to look out for. Often, Nabiki mused over thoughts of being king of the he... queen of the heap. It was an enjoyable little fantasy to a basic high school hustler, and she could probably do it, given enough time and schooling and whatnot... she didn't know at the time how soon the dream would happen. The car read ST7734 in the old plate code, and wasn't the same model as the one from present day. But it still was quite fast, and the tail lights had been overamplified, lighting the road behind it with a dull red as it went along. An economy car... built with price efficiency in mind, designed for someone who had better things to do with their cash than buy superior transport. It peeled to a halt in front of the store Nabiki was window- browsing, and the driver stepped out. The driver was totally unremarkable. Middle aged. Slightly balding. Grey suit, power tie. Something of a tire around the waist. He walked up next to Nabiki, not noticing her at all; he was more interested in the hardware on display. "PhotoCD players," he commented to himself... but why would he comment to himself, with Nabiki right there? "I can't believe they sell them as single units. Too expensive, considering that a computer can handle the format with software that costs nearly one tenth of the price." "Exactly..." Nabiki said, puzzled. Wasn't that one of the notes she had made today? "Oh, sorry. Please let me introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste," he said, handing Nabiki a business card. "At least, I like to think I am. I'm a businessperson, like yourself." "Err, charmed," Nabiki said, glancing at the card. 'STAN : CEO', it read, without mentioning the company. Red lettering on cheap black paper. "I was wondering if you'd like a ride home?" Stan asked. "Not, not really, considering that that's a fairly obvious way to pick up young girls to take somewhere and molest and/or sell into slavery," Nabiki said flatly. "Oh," Stan said. "I forgot the level of paranoia nowadays. Well, it's a healthy attitude to sport, even in a safe town like Tokyo. Where would you be comfortable talking?" "I don't really have time to talk. I have an economics test to study for," Nabiki said. "I should be going home. Not with you, you understand, just the general idea of going home." "Five minutes of your time, that's all," Stan stated. "First I'd like to know what we're going to be talking about," Nabiki asked. "Five minutes is still time, and time is money." "Time is time. What I'd like to discuss with you are several technological patents I'd like to unload," Stan said. "Patents? I'm just a student, mister, not a corporation." "Oh, but you will be. You will be," he said, with the certainty of fanatic. Nabiki shrugged off the creeping horrors. Maybe the maniac had something interesting. And it wouldn't hurt to look. "Alright. I can spare a few minutes." $ "I must say, I've taken clients out to lunch before, but you're quite taxing on the petty cash," Stan joked, as Nabiki worked on the meal he had to buy to get her to sit down. "Lunch is the most important meal the day. Now. I'd like to ask one question before you start," Nabiki started. "Namely?" Stan asked, folding his hands in a truly relaxed manner. "Why me? I'm suspecting this is going to be a load of hot air, since nobody approaches someone my age unless they're planning on taking advantage of them." "Little things," Stan said. "Your grade level, individual scores on tests proving specialty fields. Past reputation and confirmed facts of activity. You've got quite a bit of potential in you as a businesswoman." "Naturally," Nabiki nodded. "But it's not that," Stan said. "It's money." "Isn't it always?" Nabiki joked, sipping her coffee. "No, not just in a 'wow, cool, it's money' way. I mean Money with a capital Y. A love of it, a desire for it. Money is a symbol of power, you see, like voltage for electricity. More money means more freedom to do what you want. It's a good thing, to love freedom and embrace it." Nabiki stifled a yawn. This she could get from her Philosophy teacher. "That's why we picked you out, because sure, we could get some forty year old tycoon to take our patents, but what would they do? They'd just cash them in, add more money to the pile, and yawn. No enjoyment in the act whatsoever. You, you don't have a pile yet in any real manner, but you contemplate thirst for one. So, why not give the patents to the most needy, the most avid up and coming person in Japan?" Nabiki perked an eyebrow. "You really think that of me?" Stan nodded. "I do. Your greed is a good thing, in my opinion, it shows you're willing to go the distance it takes to make that money you want. I'm just offering to help you get there sooner. Time isn't money, see, because you can't BUY more time. If you made the kind of money you could make with my gift later in life, what do you have? Forty, maybe fifty years to spend -- no, to USE it how you see fit. But if you make it now, you get an extra decade or two, plus added fame and popularity." "Fame is more of an annoyance than a blessing. Popularity too," Nabiki said. "Exactly! It's the money you really want. And that's what I'm prepared to give you. Raw, potentially stored money." "What are these patents, exactly?" Nabiki said. She found no problems dealing with this man on a serious level; she saw opportunity here, and wanted to reserve doubt for a time when she saw the whole picture. THEN she could be skeptical. Stan pulled a cheap briefcase onto the table, and opened it. The insides glowed golden briefly before he closed it, handing a series of documents to Nabiki; sealed, except for the headers. Nabiki stopped eating her hot dog, and examined. 256-BIT AFFORDABLE GAMING SYSTEM. LIVE FULL SCREEN 90FPS MPEG COMPRESSED STREAMING OVER TELEPHONE CABLE. ALTERNATE FUEL BURNING ENGINE. (This amazed her; usually the oil companies bought such patents before someone could make the engine. Where did Stan get it?) HUMAN-MACHINE INTERFACING DESIGN AND NEURAL NETWORK. THE FINAL REVISION OF UNIX. CLONING. CURE FOR CANCER. PCB-EATING VIRUS. SENTIENT AND OBEDIENT ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE. Plus stacks of other patents, with scientific terms and names she couldn't recognize, including sub-micron level reality manipulation and dimensional stack sizing. "Sealed, I notice," Nabiki said, waving a fork at them. "What if I agree to whatever price you ask and they turn out to be total garbage?" "Then you will have lost little," Stan shrugged. "You haven't heard my price yet." "Which is?" "I need an employee," Stan said. "For awhile." "Define 'employee' and 'awhile.'" "I require someone I can put in my work force. Sort of an executive officer," Stan said. "Since you're quite good with words, I figured you could do volunteer work for me. We'd be training you on the job, basically like a zaibatsu--" "Zaibatsu? Ugh. I'm not sure. I've still got high school to get through..." "High school is a complete waste of your time at this point. You could start right now under me, and work on getting your niche chiseled out with my patents." "But I couldn't take on TWO jobs. I'd pretty busy getting people together who could do something with these patents..." Nabiki said, glancing at them. She could FEEL the money potential in those things. Each was worth a pile, no, a HORDE of money. More than she could make running betting pools on those annoying martial artists. "Alright, I see. I can handle that, I just need SOMEONE to fill the position for awhile. Do you know of anybody else we can use?" Stan asked. Unfortunately, that's when Nabiki woke up from her grepped memory dream. $ "It doesn't explain anything," Nabiki grumbled, getting up. She knew her words would be picked up by the in-house security system, and immediately be routed to her doctor. "I want another grep done for the rest of that scene." The doctor arrived promptly, knowing that Nabiki would want a reply to her out-loud summons. "I don't see why. There's no information in there that suggests a threat. If I recall, that deal was the root of your empire, yes? That's a good thing." "Yes, but... I can't remember all the details of that dream. Why did the machine wake me before the scene was over?" "It was the end of the recording," the doctor shrugged. "Probably it had reached a maximum error inconsistency and aborted. You simply have forgotten." "We live in an age where people *CAN'T* forget anything I don't need them to. Find a way to retrieve the information," Nabiki said. "Don't forget who feeds you and keeps your harem from seeing the public eye, doctor." The doctor winced. She knew! But of course Nabiki knew. Her company sold him the cloning equipment to make those five girls, and the AI programming to tailor them to his desires. Every transaction, every deal made with Tendom is a deal with Nabiki. Nabiki knew her customers very, very well. Besides, it was an idea she had first. $ Nabiki stepped into her limousine outside the high-security Tendom housing complex, ready to face another grueling day at the office. This whole dream situation was way too stressful; she'd have to relax a bit before arriving at work. Recorded memories always put her back into her child mindset, which was far more naive and emotional. Ugh. "Where to, ma'am?" the driver asked. It wasn't her usual driver, but that wasn't uncommon, as drivers tended to find out things they shouldn't from overhearing Nabiki's phone conversations, and had to disappear... putting silencer fields around the passenger area would imply Nabiki had something to hide. "You know where to go," Nabiki said. She considered her stress levels, and added, "On second thought, make that location #462 on your chart, driver. We'll be making a quick stop before going to work." "Right, boss," the driver smiled, and put the limo in gear. Nabiki pulled out her cellular, and called her Other Home. "Hello, Jerard, ready Kunou-chan #3 for me, if you could. I'm going to make a pitstop to calm down a bit before getting to the office. Eh? Well, tell them to stop. Yes, I know they only listen to me. Just ignore the bad poetry, okay? I'll tame them when I arrive. Thanks." "Stressful day, eh?" the driver asked, as Nabiki folded up her phone. "Just drive," Nabiki ordered. "Hey, whatever the lady wants," the driver laughed. That laugh... "Say, miss, I was wondering. I'm kinda an enterprising guy myself..." "Yeah...?" Nabiki asked, trying to stave off her mind from realizing the laugh as long as possible... without knowing an effort was being made to stave it. "I've had a hand in business, and executing orders and getting things done m'self. I was wondering if I could suggest a modest proposal to you," he said, turning around with a flick of his ponytail to look at Nabiki. "I think it'd only be fair, considering our past..." Nabiki gaped. The laugh. The face. Ranma flipped a lever, and his car dropped the illusion of being a limousine. Nabiki was now in the back of economy car RS7734, which was rapidly approaching the speed of sound. "Long time no see," he smiled, in a way that punched straight through the opposite end of friendliness and into darkness. "Let me out," Nabiki ordered. "Let me out NOW." "Awww, you don't want to talk about old times?" Ranma asked. "How about that time you got me out of a pummeling with a lie, and used the favor I owed you to duck out of a certain deal? Certainly you'd like to talk about THAT." "You CAN'T be you. You died in the earthquake! We saw your body! Akane cried..." Nabiki trailed off. Ranma winced. "Akane... yeah, I know about her. And I know about your deal. I'd like you to meet the man you made that deal with." "I already know him. We keep in contact," Nabiki said, folding her arms. "Oh, not him. That's just the dummy we put in place, so he'd still be around. No, I want you to meet my real boss..." With that, the road in front of them parted, like a fleshy valve of asphalt, and the car continued down a long tunnel in the earth, which was probably brimstone. $ Nabiki gaped. "Hell. Population 462,263,189,526 and then some," Ranma said. "I can't believe you didn't figure it out. Probably trying to deny it, claiming you couldn't remember who Stan really was... humans do that. It's a way of staying comfortably dumb. I know that for a fact now." "You're kidding. This isn't Hell," Nabiki said, looking around. "It looks like New York." "Six of one, half a dozen of another," Ranma shrugged, sitting next to her. Nabiki blinked. How'd he get back here? Who's driving? "Hell's modernized. We're a thriving urban community. Efficient, clean, like an oiled machine. Stan's made a lot of changes since last century, since we needed to find SOME way to accommodate..." "No way. I'm having a nervous breakdown," Nabiki said. "This isn't happening." "Man, why is it so hard for people to accept this?" Ranma grumbled. "That's half the problem. Takes years to get some people to accept where they are and why. We can't get around to the torture and reformation process when the prisoner denies fact." "This isn't Hell. I've seen Urotsukidoji. Where's the tortures and big scaly demons and chaotic sadism?" "Over there," Ranma said, pointing to a row of unassuming warehouses on the water... lavafront district. "The Centers. It's not good to keep such things out in the open, they smell bad. So, we tidy up and contain things. I must say, Nabiki, you've opened a door to a great education for me. This has been one hell of an internship. So to speak. And now I get to pay you back for it, every day of it--" "You're not Ranma. You're talking above a third grade level and you're showing signs of logic capability," Nabiki said. "And being considerably meaner." "Hey, you made me this way," Ranma said flatly. "I did NOT!" "Yes, you did. You signed my soul over. Thanks a bundle," Ranma said, but with a bitter tone. "I hate this place. I've had to adapt to stay sane, and now I get to play cog in its machine. I can admire it, and hate it at the same time. That's the nice thing about this, Hell doesn't want you to like it, so you can partake in it without needing to enjoy your time here. Kind of like life." Nabiki winced. "Ranma, what did they do to you? You're... a lot more bitter, for one thing." "I could go into detail," Ranma said. "But I won't. You'll know soon enough. We're almost there now." $ Ranma opened the door when RS7734 pulled up to a large office complex, and helped the trembling Nabiki out. All in all, it resembled a normal city street... if not for the occasional monster wandering around with the besuited, betied individuals and the red sky. But the buildings loomed. They were taller than tall, tall enough to make you worry they might fall over, and crush you... the light, the harsh red light similar to RS7734's brake lights, penetrated all areas except certain patches of shadow. But the light played tricks with that shadow... some people walked into shadow, but not out the other side. Hopefully they were just wormholes. Hopefully. Ranma frowned, and picked up a stray Taco Bell wrapper from the sidewalk. The only piece of litter visible. "Honestly, they're slacking off in keeping the place clean. Someone in sanitation's gonna get a few years treatment if this keeps up. I'll have to tell Stan..." "I don't understand," Nabiki said. "This... it looks hellish. But it doesn't FEEL like Hell. It's quite productive..." "Just because it's Hell doesn't mean it needs to be chaotic," Ranma said, closing the door. "Get Stan to explain his design philosophy to you sometime. Come on, the man going to be waiting for us." Nabiki nodded, falling into a slightly unsteady pace behind Ranma. Some part of her mind, locked away, wanted to assume this was all another bad dream... like the others, where Ranma towered over her, hurt her, pushed her around and blamed her for the evils he faced... and yes, it WAS Ranma in those dreams. The laugh matched. It wasn't the laugh of the Ranma she knew, before the quake killed him. It was the laugh of someone put through the meat grinder, again and again, until all that was left was the part of him that could handle the pain without flinching. Hardened to the core. She considered this. What would it take to change him this much?... Hell, probably. And she didn't even want to speculate as to why SHE was here, since knew the answer and it didn't appeal to her one bit. So, on the first day, Nabiki remained strong, as the pair walked along the hallways of the office building. Hallway after hallway. After hallway after hallway after hallway... Many ordeals start this way, with long journeys, much like the Odyssey. Normally they're not through offices, but this wasn't a normal ordeal. $ Nabiki didn't know how long this had taken so far. Hours? Days? Days. Had to be weeks. Months, without eating, drinking, or sleeping. Ranma didn't seem to care about this, despite the grumbling of Nabiki's stomach. She would wear down, as they twisted around through the hallways -- all generic, every door with a placard and 4 to 5 Far Side cartoons. Patches of black covered the points of time where she couldn't walk anymore, and had to sleep... please, no more walking... when are we gonna get there... "Get up," Ranma said, hauling Nabiki to her feet. "Tired... hungry..." Nabiki whimpered. "I see you're getting the hang of it already," Ranma said. "They'll build up your endurance soon. Don't worry, humans are disgustingly adaptive." Nabiki fell asleep in dreamless sleep, yet again. Ranma started to bark an order, but stopped... and just let her sleep. A day later, she woke up, refreshed only in the most minor sense of the word. "Where are we?" Nabiki asked. "The 602nd floor. We're getting close," Ranma said. "I phoned up for a few guides to help us the rest of the way... since you're too weak to make it without care. Jeez, I'm glad I had some martial arts training before arriving. Made the transition easier." Nabiki's muscles were pushed too far over her limits to allow her to stand, so Ranma had to help her slowly navigate through the halls. The journey was clearly wearing the girl down. Ranma didn't envy her this; but it was requested by Stan himself. Otherwise, he'd have taken the elevator, which could get him to Stan's office in seconds, not years. They met their guides a few days later, when Nabiki was clearly beyond the point where she'd be dead if she wasn't already. Instead, she was zombie-like; totally limp, but the mind still bubbled on the backburner. Trapped in agony. Ranma wasn't enjoying this. He thought he would! How many times had he fiddled with one of his technological toys, sending fantasies of his own punishments of Nabiki into the real world, into Nabiki's dreams? He was waiting for this moment to finally let her have it for condemning him to suffering. But Nabiki was suffering, and suffering a lot... and Ranma wasn't taking pleasure in it anymore. Of course, Ranma was capable of fatigue, too. He put up a false front to fight it off, and look more powerful than Nabiki, but he was feeling the twinges of going too long without bodily care as well. So, he chalked up his softness against his sworn enemy to that. Ranma could smell the guide coming before she arrived. Roses have a particular scent to them. "OOHHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHHOOOO!!!" Kodachi laughed, running in, twirling her leather ribbon around her. "You've returned, Ranma- sama! I'm so happy. And I see you brought HER." Ranma winced. Of all the people who died in that earthquake, naturally the only one that'd be going where HE would be going was Kodachi. All part of the master plan for his sentence, though. The horror. "Heya, 'dachi. Give me a hand here," Ranma requested, propping Nabiki's living corpse up. "Did you bring the water bottle?" "Water? Bah! The slave needs no water," Kodachi said. "She can't die. She'll experience worse later. Who cares?" Ranma grumbled. "I ASKED for water. She's in pain. Dehydration level three, I'd say." "Oh, come on now! I'd be no fun to ease her suffering--" "Are you gonna make me call Stan himself and order this or are you gonna get me the goddamn water?!" Ranma snapped. Kodachi blinked. "My, he receives his spine mail order. Very well, since you threaten, the Black Rose can deliver. I'll leave my partner to guide you while I fetch fluids." "Your partner?" "Oh, yes! I brought one of the Phalli," Kodachi said, as the many-tentacled beast trudged into view, looking downright ridiculous in the required business suit. It dripped slightly, offshoot tentacles sniffing the air around Nabiki. "I figure we should give Nabiki a little fun before Stan gets his hooks into her. Won't take but a quarter hour." Ranma glanced at Nabiki, who was too drained to even understand what was going on around her. He sighed, replacing his basic Hell-mask of bitterness with one of compassion; an emotion rarely usable for his job. "No," Ranma said. "Awwwwww, why not? OHOHOHHO! She'll get the same treatment at one of the many Centers anywa--" "NO," Ranma said. "Forget it. I'll rip that thing apart if it even looks at her. Once I figure out where its eyes are." "I swear, lately, you're no fun. You've changed, Ranma-sama," Kodachi said. "These last years have weakened you. You used to be the hardest there was." "We'll wait here for the water," Ranma said, setting Nabiki up against a relatively soft chair. "THEN we can proceed to Stan's office. No funny business between." $ They arrived two months later. It could have taken two weeks, but Ranma stopped periodically, much to Kodachi's disgust. "Hi, I'd like two sodas, and a large fry," Ranma said to the food clerk, helping Nabiki have a seat on a chair nearby. Kodachi frowned. "You're wasting time, Ranma. Stan will NOT approve." "I want her to be presentable when we arrive, alright?" Ranma said, as Nabiki nursed on the soda slowly. "Stan wants to talk to her, and that'll be hard if she's a vegetable, or chewed meat. That means not looking like the walking dead. No pun." "Ranma, she's damned. Greed. One of our watchword sins, yes? Who cares how she feels right now? She'll be in torment soon. Why, Stan even promised I could handle it! I've got some lovely ideas brewing." "What?!?" Ranma said. "No way! I'll talk to him about that." "You can't prevent it," Kodachi said, frowning as Ranma fed Nabiki fries. "Why are you bothering? If I don't handle her treatment, someone else will. If it doesn't start now, it'll start later. Nothing can stop her fate." "I don't care," Ranma said. "And I don't care of Stan gets mad. I don't want her getting hurt until she has absolutely, positively NO other way to delay it..." "She's the one that damned you, you know--" "Yeah, I know!" Ranma shouted. "Fact. Accepted. Shut up, 'dachi, and help me feed her." "Too late, Phalli ate all the fries." "Argh. Now I gotta order more! I'm running out of cash here." "Why not ask Miss Moneybags--" "If you talk one more time, Kodachi, I'll have you sent to the Centers for sixty years," Ranma said. "For no adequate reason. I'm busy. Let me do my job and leave me alone." Kodachi started to say, "But you're not doing your job," but wisely decided against it. Ranma DID have that power. Stan had made him a chosen one... a controller, a master over Hell. Quite a bit of power. And Ranma had always held it with an iron fist, taught by the father of lies himself. So why was he working so hard at keeping Nabiki comfortable? Kodachi shrugged. Allow a man his fancies, she supposed. He'd be back to his usual devious self after this fiasco. He always did, even during moments of softness. Ranma could be relied on to sink back to any depths he climbed out of. $ When the day arrived that Nabiki entered Stan's office, the 666th room on the 666th floor next to the 43rd bathroom (because there was no real need for 666 bathrooms, that's just silly), she was able to walk on her own. She was about at the level she was at upon arrival; a bit more meek, but physically well. "Ah, there you are," Stan said, finishing signing a paper and placing it on his 'Out' box. He retracted the ballpoint, and got up to greet his visitors. "Yeah... I'm here," Nabiki said, simply stating what was true. "You do know, why, yes?" Stan asked. "I can present an official list of charges, but they're mostly general ones, of course. Making a pact with me, selling off Ranma, doing some not entirely moral things in the name of money... the Kunou-harem didn't help." Ranma perked an eyebrow. Nabiki blushed. "So that's it? I'm going to be tortured for eternity?" "That's about the shape of it, yes," Stan said. "I was truthful, mostly, when I first saw you. It's your lust for money that attracted our attention, and we DID want you. Greed is quite an easy button to push." "Why did you even care? Just looking for more innocents to steal?" Nabiki grumbled. "Innocents? Has she seen company policy yet, Ranma?" "No, sir," Ranma said. "The truly innocent have little to fear from us," Stan said. "We respect people who can hold their head above water in the proving grounds of man. No, it's the people teetering into the dark side that we go after. To test them." "Test? Torture, you mean." "Stereotypes," Stan grumbled. "Torture is a tool, yes, but we gave up using it as the ONLY tool. We test them. We test the strength of resolution, to overcome temptation of evil. A test was tailored for Tendou Nabiki, and I'm afraid she failed it pretty hard. If that wasn't enough, you just kept sinking after that, even after we set things in motion. You killed hundreds when you demolished Nerima, including your family." "They were told to get out! I posted warnings, I tried to get them to leave... we had to go ahead with the construction date, or it'd look unusual to our competitors..." "And you'd lose money. Tendom, the great benefactor. The money machine," Stan said. "That's not why you're here now. If it was just your sins, we'd have collected you upon your natural death instead of inducing it." "Eh?" Nabiki asked. "Then... why now?" "Simple. Ranma needs a replacement. He's served long and hard, but he finally found a contract loophole wherein he could collect you to be his stand-in, in return for his freedom," Stan said. "Ranma, you're free to go. Thanks for your help. I've arranged for your travel papers to Heaven... you'll meet Akane there." Ranma looked distant for a moment, then snapped back into the here and now. "Umm, okay." "Ranma? You sold me?" Nabiki asked. "Well... you kind of sold yourself... I mean, just substituting me didn't guarantee you a way out..." Ranma faltered. "It's all part of--" "You sold me!" Nabiki spat. "And you think you're any better than me? Retribution still means committing evil, regardless of your intentions, you bastard!" "Look, it wasn't like that!!" Ranma yelled. "I've paid my dues, dues I wasn't supposed to pay at all! You forced me in here and took me away from Akane... to get back to her, I'd do anything... yeah, even if it means damning you! I don't care. Take her, Stan, I'm gone." "Alright. Nabiki, I'll set you up with an office job after your hazing," Stan said, signing some forms. "I figure a few dozen years in the Center will make a good opener, to get you used to things. Do you prefer psychological, physical or sexual torture?" Nabiki and Ranma gulped. "Or, if you want, we can custom tailor it so you spend less time there. But it'd hurt quite a bit. Compression, you see," Stan said. "We've got a lot of option plans, so you can pick what you'd like. Well, not like. But whatever you think you can deal with and stay sane. If you go insane, it sets us back a few years, you see--" "This can't be happening..." Nabiki mumbled. "Sorry, but it is," Stan said. "Don't worry, you're not the first to say that. Here, let me give you a quick sampler, so you can see what's available." And suddenly, Nabiki wasn't in the office anymore. She was falling, falling into a void... no. Into a pile. Green, but not grass. She landed, painfully, in a lump of quarters, gold bars, hundred dollar bills, thousand yen bills, pounds, marks, rubles. She broke her leg in half on impact. Nabiki screamed out loud, and got a mouthful of pennies in return. She gagged, but the floor of money surged up into a tidal wave around her, engulfing her totally. She vomited, coughed, and was only able to breathe nickel, paper and copper... money, all the money she had ever made with Tendom, filling her lungs, scraping painfully along her throat, crushing her-- "NO!" Ranma screamed, pulling on Nabiki's arm, jerking her out of the nightmare. She blinked, and was back in the office, unharmed, able to breathe. "Problem?" Stan asked. "Forget the whole thing. Deal's off," Ranma said. "I want you to take Nabiki back home." "She's ours eventually, Ranma--" "I don't care! I don't... I WON'T be the cause of having this happen to her," Ranma said. "I don't care if you order me, or torture me, or keep me here for six million years. I won't do it." "Ranma..." Nabiki gaped. What was he doing?! If that was a SAMPLE, what Stan would do to Ranma would be incredibly bad... "I've had worse," Ranma said, nearly reading Nabiki's thoughts. "Insubordination carries a heavy tag," Stan said. "You have your walking papers, Ranma. You deserve to leave. Take them and go. She DID damn you..." "I know, and it doesn't matter anymore," Ranma said. "Let her go. I'll stay. I'll take whatever you throw at me as punishment, and I'll never see Akane, but it doesn't matter anymore." "Ranma, you'd do that for me? After... after all those things I did..." Nabiki thought, as every memory of her sins surfaced, unearthed by that taste of pain. All the evils she committed in the name of progress. In the name of fortune. In the name of money. "Yes, I will," Ranma said. "And that's all I have to say." With that, the room filled with white light... soft, soothing white light, and they weren't in the office anymore. They weren't in Hell anymore. $ "You've passed the final test," Stan said, landing gently on the shores of a white sanded beach, along with Ranma and Nabiki. "Eh?" Ranma asked. "Wha..." "You were given vengeance and wrath on a platter, and chose self-sacrifice instead of destroying your enemy," Stan said. "That's commendable. You've learned well, and your reward is this. Welcome to Heaven." "Wait, what?" Nabiki asked. "I thought... eternal punishment..." "If it was eternal, we'd overcrowd and serve no function in society," Stan said. "No. We reform. We drive a man to repentance. Some take a short amount of time, some a longer amount... Ranma, you've succeeded." "I'm in Heaven? This isn't a trick by the Irony Department?" Ranma asked. "'tis what I said," Stan stated. "Welcome. And I'll miss you. You were sinister at times, but in the end, I admired your recovery against the odds we put in front of you." "If this is Heaven, where--" "I'm here," Akane said. Ranma span on a wingtipped heel, face to face with an angel. This was Akane... in all her grace, her beauty, draped in fine white robes. Smiling softly, more than she would in her earthly tomboy attitude. "Thank you, Ranma," Akane said. "I was worried you'd never be able to leave..." "Akane... finally..." Ranma gasped, completely overcome with joy. He ran to her, and they held each other tight, before vanishing, off to paradise. The final reward. "I'll miss the lad," Stan said, wiping an eye. "Of all the reforms I've orchestrated, his was perfect. A textbook maneuver. Now... to new business." Nabiki sighed. "Heaven looks so nice..." "Hey, you might end up here," Stan smiled. "..." Nabiki said. "What, you think you're going back to Hell? Ha ha!" Stan laughed. "No, no, we just needed to use you to finish Ranma's repentance. The final tool. If we told you ahead of time, it wouldn't work, of course..." "I'm not damned?" Nabiki asked. "Nobody is," Stan said. "Ranma wasn't damned. He could get out whenever he wanted. But at first, he assumed he couldn't, and he sank into evil... assuming he was supposed to, that it was proper. That guaranteed his internship would last a long time. That worried me. But you, you helped me crack the shell we put on him, to bring him back to rights." "But me! Am I damned? I don't want to go to Hell... I won't want to be punished..." "Hey, who does? Except maybe Kodachi. No, you're going to Earth. But with a warning," Stan noted. Nabiki nodded, and listened closely. "If you continue your path of life until death without changes, you're mine. You have admitted your sins of greed, your money-lust, your intense desires for it. The horrible lengths you've gone to to get your money. But there is hope. If you can go back, knowing what you know now, and work to change that... to increase your karma, to fix your wrongs, to amend the evil, you'll get the final reward of paradise. If you don't, well, it'll be a long stopover in my domain before achieving the final reward." "I can avoid it? I can repent? There's still time?" Nabiki asked, eternally hopeful. "There is always time," Stan said. "No futures are set. But how you proceed is up to you. You can continue to seek your money, doing anything for it regardless of what you KNOW is right, or you can stop and try make repairs. It's that effort that will save you." Nabiki nodded, absorbing the information like a sponge, filling her with energy far more than Ranma's efforts to keep her alive. Now, she truly was alive; she had noble purpose. She had a REASON d'etre, beyond the call of the cash. Her path was clear. "And now," Stan said, as the scene faded, "It's up to you. Because that's the end of my lesson, and there is nothing more to say."