[XOVER][Fanfic] BGC/Ranma: The Circe Project - Part 6

[Nightelf]

Nightelf (nwl...@tam2000.tamu.edu) presents...

The Circe Project

part 6

A work of anime fanfiction by Nicholas Leifker, aka "Nightelf"

All Ranma 1/2 characters property of Rumiko Takahashi. All Bubblegum
Crisis characters property of Kenichi Sonoda. All others property of me.
All rights reserved. Is that all? Anyway, I must ask that you not do
anything with any part of this work without the author's permission.

Well, sit back and enjoy the ride.

_____________________________________________________________________________

The Knightwing cruised slowly over the shadowy Chinese countryside
in order to avoid detection, as though the craft were some avian predator
quietly searching for prey. A similar silent foreboding permeated the
atmosphere inside, if for somewhat different reasons. This trip would be
a sort of homecoming for the sextet of women armored and waiting inside:
ancient battleground, ancestral home, graveyard of dreams...Sylia's
businesslike voice pierced through the oppressive silence, bringing to
focus the objective, the battle, and the risks.

"Thirty seconds to release, everyone. You know the plan. Hit hard,
hit fast, get out. Mackie, Nodoka, you're with me. The rest of you stay
outside and keep the boomers busy."

A subtle technomechanical symphony played itself out as the Knight
Sabers began to make last-second checks to their equipment, the soft
clicks and whistles akin to musicians stoically tuning their instruments
before a concert. They were quite aware of what was at stake, and knew
from frightening experience the possible results of failure. Remembering
her own transformation, Mackie took a long look at the red-suited warrior
next to her, then shook her head, pulling herself back to the task at hand.

"Ready...Now!"

The half-dozen warriors flew from the Knightwing, dancing in
starlight as they made their way to the ground, expecting a phalanx of
Boomers to come rushing for them at any moment. The tinmen came to greet
them almost immediately, their metal fangs and inhuman eyes gleaming
beneath the half-moon's cold glare. The first wave of artificial
soldiers fell almost immediately, their electronic vocal cords emitting
almost human screams as their virtual lives ended. Sylia and her group
ran past the second wave as the others kept the Boomers busy.

"See you in a few minutes," Mackie chimed over the radio, the
adrenaline rush soaring through her sending her already-high voice up a
few notches.

"Be careful, rookie. Your arrogance could kill us all." Priss kept
her tone derisive, to temper the youngster's fire, while trying to subdue
her own dangerous enthusiasm. She watched for a last second as the trio
blasted the now-closing doors, then rushed inside. "Good luck...and hurry
back." The retrothrash singer then turned back to her attackers and
started cutting her way through the Boomer horde, praying that they would
make it out of the lion's den...and that her own group would be there to
greet them.

*****************************************************************************

"A martial artist must be prepared to give up his or her life for the
sake of the art." This was one of the fundamental rules of a warrior of
the Anything-Goes School, a rule dictated by life and death from its
earliest days. Circumstances required that it would be taught from
sensei to child and drilled into them like a mantra, to give them courage
in their darkest hour. After all, a time of testing could occur
anywhere...the cursed pools of Jusenkyo, the dark forests of Ryugenzawa,
the trecherous caverns of Mount Phoenix...or facing down a rampaging
boomer in MegaTokyo's streets, cradling your beloved's lifeless form in
your arms. The words came automatically to Ranma Saotome at each of
these locales, providing a focus for his passions, helping him to drive
away the fear and despair clawing at his heart, and giving him the
strength to fight the storm to its bitter end.

Now that he was on the sidelines, _waiting_, the words came again to
the martial-arts master...and served to agitate him, rather than
comfort. He fidgeted in front of the console, listening to the radio
transmissions, becoming increasingly frustrated at Nodoka's necessary
silence...until a woman's hand, so familiar yet somewhat different,
touched his shoulder, giving him an anchor to latch on to.

"Relax. They be all right." Shampoo. Like him, she held a bit of
her heart at risk, as the last bastion of her knowledge danced away in
lime-green armor. A small smile crept across her face, strong without
the innocence of youth. "They come back, you see."

He stood up and faced her, looked deep into her eyes, and saw his own
fear mirrored in hers. "I...I know." The two stared at each other for
what seemed an eternity, feeling the years and angers between them melt
away. He brought her in close to himself, then broke the contact.

"Why you afraid?"

"Shampoo, I..."

"Aiyaah, you always like this! Make up mind, Ranma! Akane dead!"
Her face reflected sadness, but she could cry no more. "Let go,
Ranma...let Akane rest."

Ranma just stood there, paralyzed by indecision, caught between
existences. Shampoo did what any self-respecting Amazon would do: She
decided for him. She walked slowly to him, moved his numb arms around
her body, and wrapped hers around his. This time, he didn't fight it.
The two whispered to each other, pain and hope melded into a private
conversation. Ranma didn't know how long they were like this; he
didn't care.

His eyes shifted to the once-empty computer monitor, now showing
reams of data flying across, at which point a world of relief spread
throughout his body. He turned his ears back to the headphone in his
ear, and the screaming voice coming from it.

"Ranma? Are you there? Answer, please..." the tinny voice called from
the void, curious at the lack of a response.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm here."

Leon sighed, letting his exasperation show. "Do you have the data
yet?"

He looked at the final line of the screen, indicating the data's
final resting place: Sylia's mainframe. "Yeah. It all checks out."
The martial-arts master removed himself from Shampoo and sat down,
confirming the data's existence and stability.

"Are you okay, Ranma? You sound...flustered. Are you and Shampoo
doing something you shouldn't be? You two still haven't turned on the
video yet." The ADPolice officer's voice laughed from the Knightwing's
pilot seat.

Ranma turned a nice shade of crimson as he nervously adjusted the
collar on his shirt. He stole a last, mischievous glance at the Amazon,
then switched the video on.

*****************************************************************************

"Get ready. We're coming out."

Priss let out a sigh of relief as the inner radio silence was
broken, though something still nagged at her. It had been Nodoka, and
not Mackie or Sylia, who had signaled their exit, triggering a long-worn
bundle of nerves in the back of her mind. Her fears proved unfounded ,
though, as all three of them exited the laboratory at full speed.
Sylia's voice, unusually subdued for the occasion, whispered over the
radio.

"Let's get out of here."

The Sabers quickly fired their emergency thrusters and headed away
from the accursed place, closely followed by the few Boomers who remained.
The Knightwing's guns lit up to take care of any threats as they boarded,
securing their safe return. Leon hit the thrusters once they were all in
safely, rocketing the merceneries safely away.

Daylight briefly came back to the area a moment later as a bright
flash of light expanded behind them, vaporizing the laboratory and
springs in a flower of light. The group looked back at the explosion,
spellbound, hopeful that they had set their personal ghosts to rest.

All except Sylia. She sat motionless in her chair, helmet off,
unwiped tears streaming down her face.

"Sylia...are you okay?" Priss turned to their leader and mentor,
concern in her eyes.

A metal hand grasped Priss' shoulder, holding back any further
questions. Mackie stood behind her, a sober look in her eyes, waving
off any comments with a shake of her head. "Sylia...saw the
experiment room. She's not exactly in a conversational mood at the
moment."

Sylia turned her head out to face the darkness, mourning a man
who had adored her, then betrayed her...

***

Mission accomplished. All the data had been transferred to the
Saber database, and the explosive charges were off and ticking.
Only one thing remained: getting the heck out of there before the
place was a smouldering crater. So far, they had been lucky: no
hitches, no casualties. She motioned for Mackie and Nodoka to
follow, then ran out of the room, not wishing to stay any longer
than they had to.

They had nearly reached the outside when Mackie stopped, her eyes
locked on one of the doors. Sylia ran back, then noticed the two words
that had captured Mackie's attention.

Experiment Room.

"Sylia..."

The elder sister loked at the younger curiously. "Mackie?"

"We have to go in there. There may be people inside."

Sylia shook her head, placing an arm across Mackie's chest. "No.
There's no time."

Mackie's voice was supernally calm. "Sylia...please. We have to
see."

The silver-clad warrior sighed. Mackie would go in there, even if
she ordered her not to. "_I'll_ go in. Okay?"

She opened the door...and walked straight into hell. It was a large
room, roughly the size of a high-school gymnasium, with surgical beds and
other scientific and medical equipment on the near end. At the far end
were cages, of ever concievable shape and size, with a small menagerie
making makeshift homes behind prison bars. A few custodians trudged
along here and there, slowly occupying themselves with their tasks,
hiding their pain behind expressionless masks.

A child, no more than seven physically, looked up at Sylia, and
gasped. His eyes, like the others, showed a world of hurt, though there
was something else mingled in...guilt? Tears welled in those eyes as two
words escaped his lips: "Knight Sabers..."

The warrior walked over to the boy and knelt down, bringing herself
face-to-shielded-face. "May I help you?"

The boy looked down, unable to meet her gaze. His voice was
strangely quiet as he shook his head. "No...I'm beyond help. All of us
are. If you could, tell Sylia...tell her I'm sorry."

She gasped. Somehow, the child knew...

"You see, I worked for Sylia for a long time...and...when...I...I
betrayed her trust. Genom gave me a 'just reward' for my service."

Sylia was reeling. "Fargo?" she asked, her voice shaking.

The boy looked up, a deer caught in headlights. "Sylia...is that
you?" He ran to hug the armored warrior as the emotional shells broke
down. "I'm sorry...they...I..."

Maternal instincts kicked in as she clumsily returned the embrace.
"Come on, old friend. We're getting you out of here."

Fargo broke the hug, wiped his eyes, then managed a slow smile. "I
wish...I wish we could, Sylia." He pointed to a small scar at his
temple. "Behavior inhibitors. We can't even make an attempt."

Panic started to rise within her. "But this place..."

"I know." The voice held a strange wisdom, the tone of one accepted to
his fate. "Sylia...let us be. It's for the best."

She looked at the timer in her suit, and knew she couldn't stay.
She looked at the man-turned-boy for a hard moment, and burned his face
in her mind, along with that of the adult he had once been. As the
tears flowed down her face, she vowed with her soul that she would never
forget - or forgive. Her voice cracked as she said her farewells.

"Goodbye...old friend."

"Goodbye, Sylia. Take care."

The Knight Saber turned around for one last look, then turned to
leave. Nodoka and Mackie waited for her anxiously.

"Sis?"

Sylia looked at her cursed sibling, unable to explain, yet
unable to forget. She simply ran toward the exit, her voice incapable
of coherent speech.

***

Questions and prayers raced through Sylia's mind as she watched
the darkness of night transform to the strange indigo of predawn.
Genom potentially possessed a weapon of cold, modern ferocity, capable
of striking its victims at the very soul, by horribly warping the body
which housed it.

The storm warnings were there, right in front of her, and she could
no longer pretend it wasn't coming. The hour was almost upon them, and
she needed to be ready.

*****************************************************************************

Ranma walked slowly down the streets of MegaTokyo as the first rays
of morning appeared between the skyscrapers. The night had been a hard
one, with revelations and questions that he hadn't been ready to deal
with. Everything he had been, everything he was and is...was now on the
line, ready to be risked, and possibly lost. Akane...he had loved the
woman with everything that a man could, and still mourned the hole in his
heart from her death. Nodoka, the child he had raised, now stood on the
front lines, fighting the good fight as he had done so long ago.
Shampoo, a friend from the old days, had come back and offered her own
bruised heart to him. And Sylia...the offer she made both frightened
and elated him.

He stopped, rubbed his eyes, and glanced at the nearby store window.
A loving couple was sitting down and enjoying breakfast before starting
the day. They talked, smiled, laughed...the movements were like an old
movie to him, comforting and enjoyable. Then the woman noticed him. She
walked over, smiled, and opened the door.

"Hey, Ucchan..."

"Ranchan! Come on in! You want some breakfast? It's just miso and
rice..."

He smiled, then nodded.

"Good morning, Konatsu. How are you doing?" He bowed to the former
transvestite.

The man had a strange look on his face, as though he held some
humorous secret inside. "Good morning, Ranma. Late night?"

He stopped. "Er...yeah."

Ukyou set out bowls of rice and miso for her guest. Her eyes
twinkled with delight.

"So...how was the date with Shampoo last night?"

"Oh, you heard about that, huh?" Somewhat sheepish, Ranma took a
sip of the soup, letting the timeless flavor spread through his mouth and
throat.

She gestured over to her husband. "You forget Konatsu is a trained
Ninja. He told me all about your dinner, her crying, how you held her...
Just out of curiosity, why in the world did you two go to some auto
garage?"

"Well, that bit's a long story, concerning the dojo. Anyway,
Ucchan..."

"Lemme guess." Ukyou picked up a bit of rice from her bowl. "The
way I see it, you're either wondering if you should start a relationship
with her...or if you can have my blessing."

"Uh...yes, to both, actually." Ranma was mildly surprised at
Ukyou's accuracy. A sage's smile crept on Ukyou's face as she recalled
the bitter past.

"Ranchan, I remember seeing you after Akane...You were so lonely,
it was as if you had died, instead of her. To be honest, if it weren't
for the rugrat, you probably would've."

Memories of certain tomboys filled the old man's mind. "Yeah...now
that rugrat's got a guy of her own."

"Shampoo, from what I've seen, has changed a lot. She isn't quite
as..."

"Forceful?"

"You said it, not me. Also, she's older, wiser...she's a widow too,
now. This time, there won't be any battles or weird schemes...I'm
married, and the others are gone. Without that competition, she's
probably a great woman to be with, and...she makes you happy, I can
tell. That's what's important."

Ranma continued his meal thoughtfully, taking his time with the
breakfast. "There was one other thing..."

The couple smiled.

"Am I...am I too old to fight?"

Konatsu just shook his head. "Ranma...we're the same age you are,
and we can still beat the stuffing out of almost anyone around." He
winked at him, a small remnant of his early life. "Besides...you'd look
good in a form-fitting battle suit."

"What?" Ranma looked visibly nervous.

"Like my wife said, I am a trained Ninja..."

"Please don't tell anyone, okay? I mean, if word got out..."

Ukyou waved a hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it, Ranma!
Besides, we've got more important stuff to talk about." She pulled out
an envelope filled with photos. "Midori-chan had her baby last week.
Isn't little Hikaru adorable...?"

*****************************************************************************

An old man shuffled his feet through the inner corridors of Genom
Tower, his gaunt, haggard frame sagging from the weight of the world on
his shoulders. Factories all over Japan were threatening to strike,
citing unsafe working conditions. The Diet was considering a limit on
Boomer exportation, resulting in a sizeable drop on the Nikkei. And, to
top it all off, a certain top-secret lab was destroyed...apparantly by
the mercenery Knight Sabers, a threat thought destroyed long ago.

Needless to say, this was not Quincy's brightest hour.

The mastermind behind Genom's rise to power moved slowly, feeling
the decay of age a little more intensely than usual. He absently rubbed
at a sore arm muscle as he approached a highly secure door. The door
responded to his presence and began to speak, its quiet feminine voice
soothing the old man's nerves.

"Greetings, weary traveler. Please place your right hand on the
touchpad for the first identification." He managed a weak smile as he
raised a hand to the pad. The voice continued.

"Speak, friend, and enter in peace."

"Friend." The CEO of Genom made a mental note to fire whoever
installed the bad pun for the voiceprint.

"Handprint, voiceprint, and password verification confirmed.
Welcome to the Elysium, Chairman Quincy."

The executive's eyes sparkled as he looked around the room, easily
the most secure in MegaTokyo, if not the world. King-size bed,
universal entertainment computer, bar, lounge, all surrounded by ceramic
and alloy strong enough to withstand an orbital laser blast. Fully
automated, self-contained, self-cleaning and repairing...only Madigan
could even contact him, and even then only in an emergency.

Here he could escape, and shut out the ghosts.

The old man went to the bar and fumbled over a bottle of scotch.
After pouring himself a generous glass, he staggered back to the bed,
nearly spilling his drink in the process. A tired voice called out to
the room in general.

"Computer, music: Classical, Schubert's Eighth Symphony in B Minor,
MegaTokyo Philharmonic, Hikaru Kousuke conducting. Both movements,
please. Volume level 2.3, light level 1.0.

The music seemed to flow from the walls at his command, its
haunting melodies drifting through him, easing his aging muscles and
soothing his tired mind. Within minutes, he was fast asleep, scotch
spilled on the bed, his mind dreaming of a time long before Genom.

In an dark, shadowed corner, red eyes glowed, then narrowed.

*****************************************************************************

Hello.

The results of the early release reminded me of something a venerable
fanfic writer once told me concerning fanfic revisions. He told me that,
upon completion of the first draft of a 'fic, he always thought (insert
mad scientist laugh here) "This is perfect!!"...until his prereaders got
a hold of it.

I encountered a most interesting problem earlier: I accidently deleted
the revised copy that I had posted to the ML. There were a couple of
semi-major revisions that I wished to make with it, and never got around
to them due to a whirlwind couple of weeks. Fortunately, Stormwalker and
Zen found copies that I'd sent, and mailed them to me. Doomo arigatoo
gozaimasu!

Look for Circe pts. 7 and 8 to be coming very soon.

Thanks to...

Rumiko Takahashi and Kenichi Sonoda, for the obvious.

All those on the ML and the early list for their comments and help, in
particular skywise, Stormwalker, Cynewulf, and Chris Willmore (BTW,
Chris, looking at your critique, I found it to be quite entertaining ;) ).

As always, C&C is appreciated.

If you would like to be a part of my early list, let me know. Trust me,
you never know what I'll send over that.

Nicholas Leifker
"Nightelf"
nwl...@tam2000.tamu.edu
http://http.tamu.edu:8000/~nwl9354
November 9, 1996