Shinji drifted up from unconsciousness, finding himself in that hazy place where the effort of waking and sleeping are both more than one wants. Awareness washed over him, informing him of the dull and throbbing aches in his chest and hands. Groggily, Shinji dragged himself into consciousness. This offered no substantial improvement to his situation. On opening his eyes, Shinji experienced a wash of vertigo, finding himself suspended above a metallic runway which cut across a vast sea of yellow. Turning his head to either side, Shinji could see his hands, his EVA's hands, nailed to the long arms of the giant cross that had once imprisoned Lilith. And, of course, there was the huge red spear driven fully through the purple armor above his heart and in turn projecting from his back. Shinji took all of this in, including the growing pain of the metal shaft piercing his torso. He did the only reasonable thing he could think of doing. He screamed, even if in his transformed Evangelion body it translated into a roar. The intent was the same. He was in Terminal Dogma, nailed to a cross, the Longinus Lance buried in his chest, and he was pretty sure this was his father's fault. Screaming seemed reasonable. After the echoes died away, a voice came out of the darkness, filling the cavernous space of Terminal Dogma. "Shinji." The young pilot lifted his head, scanning the shadow-filled reaches of Terminal Dogma. Steeling himself against the pain, Shinji reminded himself that he had severed all ties to that man, that Gendo was no longer his father. "Gendo," Shinji gritted. "You're finally awake, son. Good," Gendo's voice boomed from the unseen speakers. "I never wanted to do this, boy. Your selfishness has forced my hand." "What are you talking about, old man?" Shinji asked. "There are no more Angels. Humanity doesn't need the Instrumentality Project anymore! The God who forced that on us is gone. Lina won't let humanity die for no reason, like he was allowing!" "You are a selfish child, Shinji," Gendo stated. "Believing every word the enemy had fed you. My life's work will not be swept aside simply because some broom-carrying girl or medieval firebrand say so. The Human Instrumentality Project must be completed if humanity is to survive." The click of switches came over the speakers and the lights dimmed, flooding Terminal Dogma with shadow. "We will speak later, Shinji." With a final click, silence filled Terminal Dogma. Dangling from the cross and listening only to the lapping of the LCL sea on steel, Shinji hung his head and asked Lina for deliverance. * * * * * Hiroshi stared at his adversary. Namely, the telephone on his desk. Carefully, Hiroshi reached out. It was just a phone call. It couldn't hurt, right? "Yeah, right," he sighed, snapping his hand back. He flopped down into the chair by his desk. "There's got to be a way out of this without anyone getting hurt..." Hiroshi sighed once more. "Rei... Lilith... What am I going to do? I never wanted this to happen." "Okay, okay..." Hiroshi steeled himself. Gripping the handset tightly, he punched in the code off his Magical Troubleshooting Crossover Fighting Federation Ultra Commemorative Calling Card (Collect all twelve!). This was followed by a short string of digits. The phone on the other end rang once, twice, and on the third time there was the click of the other end being picked up. "hai?" answered the soft voice on the far end of the line. The sound of that greeting, however terse it might be, brought an involuntary smile to Hiroshi. "Hi, Rei? It's me, Hiroshi..." "...it's good to hear from you, hiroshi-kun." Hiroshi rubbed the back of his neck and let out a weak chuckle. "It's good to hear from you again, too. Listen, Rei... There's something I'd like to ask you." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Wouldyouliketogotothisweek'spayperviewwithme? Iboughtticketsand everythingandweneedtotalkand--" "hiroshi-kun? i-i would..." Rei paused, seemingly searching for the right word. "...like that." Hiroshi cracked one eye open, and looked at the phone in his hand. "Really?" he asked. "yes." "Okay! I'll meet you at the UltraDome, okay?" "alright." "Bye, Rei!" "goodbye, hiroshi." There was another soft click as the far end disconnected, and Hiroshi set the phone down. In a burst of energy, Hiroshi bounced out of his chair, any earlier anxiety evaporating instantly. "YATTA!! I DID IT!" Hiroshi whooped in triumph. "Everything's going to work out fine! YES!!" "Hiroshi! Keep it down up there!" "Ah, sorry, Mom!" * * * * * Nabiki gazed over steepled fingers at the group before her: Morrigan, stretched out on the leather-upholstered couch along the right-hand wall of the office, Marlo, sprawled in an overstuffed armchair he had supplied for himself, and Tarou, sulking against the back wall. After a moment she stood, choosing to pace in front of her desk. "Before you three go out there tonight, I want make something absolutely clear," Nabiki addressed her collaborators. "This is our showcase pay-per-view. This is about profit. We are not here to hemorrhage money like my sister or Jack. "This means no crap from Jack and his troublemakers. No technical foul-ups. No cancelled fights. No free airtime for CHAOS. Understood?" Each of the others nodded in turn. At the back of the office, Tarou straightened. "Miss Tendou, that damn brat..." "No, Tarou. I'm not going to get you a new co-announcer," Nabiki scowled. "Sana's a celebrity and a draw for the lower age viewing brackets, so you're going to play nice." Surveying the room again, she asked, "Any other questions?" "So, you got an edge for us this time?" Marlo asked, idly twirling a steel chair. Nabiki grinned like a shark. "Naturally." * * * * * Before the show, the impromptu CHAOS war room, smaller than the one back in Tokyo, was filled to capacity. Daisuke paced the room, checking everything one last time. "Jack, are you sure you don't need help with that?" he asked. Controversial Jack, CHAOS' nominal leader, was seated at the large table they'd hauled into the converted dressing rooms. A partially disassembled VCR sat in front of him. For the past three hours, Jack had been trying, with little success, to hook it up to a signal router that Lain had dug out of the old pirating equipment in the machine room for them. "Don't get your boxers in a knot, Daisuke," Jack replied. "I'll get this up and running in no time." He squinted at the connection slots in the back of the VCR through a jeweler's eyepiece. "Squeak!" "Hm... Good point, Mr. Duck," Jack commented to his rubber companion. "Sakura, could you hand me that hammer?" Daisuke winced and turned to Shingo. "Are you okay, Shingo?" he asked. "Ready to go?" In front of the dressing table at the far end of the room, the young martial artist was thumbing through his notebook as Karin straightened the tie of his headband. Looking up, Shingo smiled and gave a thumbs-up. "Ready to go!" "Right," Daisuke nodded. "We're counting on you." Privately, he thanked Lina for at least one low-maintenance member of their group. In the background, there was the sound of Jack busily applying hammer and nail to the electronic equipment. Daisuke amended his previous thought; comparatively, Shingo required no maintenance at all. Opposite Shingo's dressing table, Team Rocket prepared in their own unique way; Jessie's hair was sprayed into a razor edge, her uniform shone brilliant white, vibrant red, and mirror-shined black. As she put the finishing touches to her make-up, James stood to one side, polishing the pokeballs that sat among the tubes and bottles on the dressing table. Pikachu sulked in the nearby corner, its forepaws crossed and scowling as deeply as a small, fuzzy animal was capable of. Daisuke stepped over, and addressed the duo. "How about you, Jessie? You're on in a few minutes. Is everything all right?" Jessie gave herself one final glance in the mirror, then stood. "Of course it is! With this much style and glamour, how could anything be wrong?" she asked, clasping a fist against her breast. Daisuke sweatdropped. "I was really thinking more in terms of how the training with Pikachu went..." A tugging on his pants leg answered this. "Pika pi pikachu! Chu!" explained Pikachu, gesticulating frantically. "Pi pi pi ka! Chu pika pi!" A second sweatdrop joined the first. Daisuke sighed. "Look, all I can ask is that the two of you go out there and do your best, OK?" Jessie and Pikachu nodded carefully. As Jessie gathered the four pokeballs spread across her dressing table, Daisuke added, "I'm sorry that I'll won't be able to show up for your match, Jessie." He winced, paling at the thought of what might happen if he did. Jack stood, examined the results of his handiwork, and grinned at Daisuke. "Aw... not going to watch your girlfriend's fight?" This earned him a glare from Daisuke and a kick to the shin under the table from Sakura. Jack held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay... Don't worry about it, kid. We all understand." Gathering the equipment, Jack produced a video tape and added it to his pile. "Look, I've got to set this up. Sakura, James, do you kids have your equipment?" Sakura produced a cloth-wrapped bundle from somewhere under the table. "Got them. We'll be ready to go when it's time." James produced his own bundle. "Ooh... We haven't used these in a long time!" "Squeak!" "Right," Jack agreed. Heading for the door, he continued, "Well, Mr. Duck and I need to set this thing up. We'll catch you after the show, okay?" As the door shut behind Jack, Daisuke glanced at his watch. "Jessie, Shingo, we'll clear out now. Good luck." * * * * * "Commander Ikari? Major Bison on the video feed." "Patch it through to my office." * * * * * Tonight, spotlights swam over St. Peter's Square. The Vatican was alive with lights and activity as Ultra personnel swarmed the Holy See. This state of affairs was the product of an unusual and historic arrangement. The Holy Father and Nabiki Tendou had reached an agreement, allowing the Vatican City to host the first REBOOT pay-per-view. The were certain advantages to having a Pope who was an Ultra fan. Thus, the lucky ticket holders for the evening's sports entertainment filled in the tiers of seating lining St. Peter's Square (paid for from the coffers of the Church), under the overhead dome that covered the Square (paid for by the Church), to watch the spectacle to transpire in the ring below (again courtesy of the Church). However, Nabiki did have to pay a substantial fee to get St. Peter's Square deconsecrated enough that Morrigan could enter safely, as well as supplying additional technology and the evening's talent. And now, it was time for.... * * * * * { M A G I C A L T R O U B L E S H O O T I N G } { C R O S S O V E R F I G H T I N G } { F E D E R A T I O N } { .-----------. } { | U-L-T-R-A | } { `-----------' } { http://www.improfanfic.com } | | | - +-- ---. ._ | | | | | / | \ |__/ ___ | | \ | _\ +--- Ultra | - REBOOT: +--- 1.0 | \ |-< |_/ .__ | \ \__| .__ | \ \__| - +-- | | Episode 47 Written by This Old Dojo, Mark II and Anonymous * * * * * Thus, St. Peter's Square Was Loud, just as the UltraDome was. The walls of sounds rolled across the city state, rattling the architecture. The rolling bass throb loosed plaster in the highest spires of Saint Peter's Basilica and sent books tumbling from the shelves in the 'Z' Vaults. And tonight there was an added element, a new pitch that cut past simply making one's eardrums bleed, and moved straight into producing agony not unlike having an icepick driven four inches into one's ear. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" That high-pitched, pain-inducing squeal of excitement greeted Ultra's pay-per-view audience as Sana's enthusiasm rode rough-shod over the aural nerves of millions of viewers. "HIIIIIII!! This is Sana-chan and WELCOME TO ULTRA REBOOT!" the hyperactive child star cheered into her microphone. "Tonight, we bring to you, THE FANS, seven BLOOD-SOAKED and GUT-WRENCHINGLY VIOLENT battles for the title of Internet Champion and the really cool web shrine that goes with it!! It's going to be an incredibly exciting night, folks! Isn't that right, Tarou?" Tarou scowled at his co-host and leaned his chair back. "No, that's not right. The few *real* fighters are so obviously going to walk all over these other clowns that it's laughable. Miss Tendou's champions are going to make this a cakewalk." "Mou... you're no fun!" Sana protested, before switching right back to her groove. "And now to present the rules for REBOOT, ULTRA'S VERY OWN WEBMONKEY, LAIN IWAKURA!! Wai!" The crowd dutifully roared despite the rather mundane nature of the guest as a young girl stepped onto the stage beneath the UltraTron, clutching a microphone in one hand and a notebook computer in the other. The lights gleamed off the silver wire woven into the lock of hair that framed the left side of her face as she gazed blankly out at crowd. Lain blinked at the sea of humanity. Tarou, displaying his amazing versatility, switched from scowl to sneer. "Great. She's a retard." Shouting up to the stage, he added, "Hey, brat! Get on with it before I have to beat an introduction out of you!" He popped his knuckles for emphasis and offered a nasty grin. "You be nice!" Sana swatted Tarou with her squeaky mallet. "After all, she's a girl! You have to nice to us." Tarou ground his teeth and went back to scowling. "Ah... h-hello?" Lain opened. The sound technicians fortunately were able to amplify her words enough to overcome the hushed tone she spoke in. "W-welcome to Ultra REBOOT, everyone..." The crowd cheered back in response. "Miss Tendou asked us to guest announce tonight, since we will be building the web shrine for tonight's winner and, ah... I'm supposed to tell the rules of our tournament." Lain fished a remote from her jacket pocket and clicked it at the UltraTron, bringing up a video montage of the competitors. "Tonight's show is a standard elimination ladder tournament," Lain continued, some of the hesitancy dissolving as she continued. "Based on the original Magical Troubleshooting Crossover Fighting Tournament Beta that led to the founding of out federation. All matches are Hardcore rules. Um... this means any weapons are legal and knock-outs count anywhere." "Boooring," Tarou proclaimed. Lain shrank a little and continued. "There are three rounds, and the person who wins the final match... wins the Internet Championship Belt and will receive a web shrine on the official MTCFF Ultra web site." Lain glanced at the screen overhead. "Navi, the graphic...?" The video faded out, replaced by a large chart showing the tournament's ladder progression. _Shermie____ | |---___???______ _Jessie_____| | | _Marlo______ |---___???______ | | | |---___???______| | _Tifa_______| | | | _Mr._Satan__ |---___???______ | | |---___???______ | _Morrigan___| | | | | _Akane______ |---___???______| | | |---___???______| _Shingo_____| "That has got to be the ugliest graphic I've ever seen," commented Tarou. "I feel sorry for whoever gets stuck with your lame-ass shrine." "Um...," Lain shrugged. "That's all really. Thank you, everyone." "Lain-chan! You did great!" Sana cheered as she popped up, grabbing the other girl's arm. Dragging Lain back to the announcer's table, she continued. "I bet this was your first time on stage, ne? Where you scared? I remember my first time in front of an audience. It was..." As Sana continued chattering, Lain's eyes glazed over, the rapid-fire dialogue washing over her. "Great. Would you two hold your hen session on your own time?" Tarou asked. "We do have a show to announce." "Oh, yeah!" Sana's attention snapped back as she continued. "ALRIGHT!! LET'S SEE SOME GORE!" * * * * * In the stands, Hiroshi turned to Rei. "Having fun, Rei?" he asked, smiling to his companion. Rei nodded silently in the adjacent seat. Tonight she wore what passed for causal clothes for her--namely, her school uniform. Of course, since this also passed for formal clothes, it was a bit difficult to tell. Hiroshi glanced sidelong at Rei and sighed. At least he'd picked his school uniform to match Rei's. They'd have to talk about everything that had happened. But that was for after the show. For now, he turned his attention back to the action below. Rei glanced sidelong at Hiroshi, issuing a tiny sigh of her own. She wasn't sure how to proceed now that they were getting to spend this time. Perhaps she'd be able to figure it out, tonight. With quiet resignation, she turned her attention back to her popcorn. * * * * * "For tonight's first match, we've got a massive waste of time," Tarou stated. "Ditzy psychotic bimbo versus idiotic harpy in a clown suit. Not only is this pathetic, it's one-sided. No-eyes is going to make paste out of rocket bitch." Tarou shrugged, as guttural German heavy metal burst over the speakers. There was a burst of black smoke and purple pyrotechnics as the female Disciple of the Void stepped onto the ramp. Shermie strutted towards the ring, blowing kisses to the audience. As always, this, along with the revealing cut-outs in Shermie's top and skirt, brought resounding cheers from the nose-bleed section of the crowd. Arriving at the ring, Shermie snagged a microphone from a near-by stagehand and slid under the ropes. "Hiiiiiy, everybody!" she greeted the crowd, waving enthusiastically. "I just want everyone to know that I'm doing this so I can show everyone all my favorite pictures of Daisuke-chan on my shrine!" Shermie informed the crowd. "He's scared of me now, but I'm gonna return him to the Void and share it with everyone!" Shermie beamed at the crowd. "Isn't he cute? He's even got this adorable birthmark on h--" At this point the at-home audience got to hear a long section of bleeps as Shermie said things about Daisuke that no one really needed to know about. "--keep it in a jar!" she concluded. Sana bounced happily in her seat. "Wai! Shermie's so cool! We're gonna see blood!" Tugging Lain by the arm, Sana added, "Don't you agree, Lain?" "Ah... If you say so," Lain replied. "I... like Team Rocket, though..." Tarou and Sana favored Lain with a dirty look, although their effort was cut off as the converted square was plunged into darkness. Swelling dramatic music echoed across the arena as a single spotlight illuminated the front of the basilica, where the roof of the temporary stadium met the ancient structure. Perched on the railing of a balcony there, one half of Team Rocket stood, Pikachu perched on her shoulder. The uniform was as impressive as ever, shining triumphantly for the audience below. "PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!" Jessie exclaimed as she grabbed the handles of a zip cord from just outside the spotlight's domain. In the reserved seats, Jessie's fellow CHAOS members stood and chanted the other half of the motto, backed by the thousands in the audience. "MAKE IT DOUBLE!" With a brief wave of acknowledgement, Jessie continued. "To protect the world from devastation!" As she spoke, thousands of lights flared to life on the wall around her, displaying a giant glowing red 'R'. "To unite all peoples within our nation!" "To denounce the evils of truth and love!" Firmly gripping the zip cord, Jessie launched herself into space, sailing above the crowd. There was a series of explosions as brilliant red fireworks burst all around. "To extend our reach to the stars above!" screamed the crowd. "JESSIE!" the red-haired pokemon poacher exclaimed, as she zoomed along the cable towards the ring. "JAMES!" came the answering chant. The blue-haired counterpart stood briefly from the reserved seats, and bowed along with the scattered applause until Sakura grabbed his ear, forcing him to sit down. "Team Rocket blasts off at the SPEED OF LIGHT!" Jessie touched down in the ring, rolling to a stop opposite Shermie. Briefly, Jessie was stuck as her roll ended with her upside down, but without missing a beat, she righted herself. After wobbling for an instant, she continued, leveling a finger at her opponent, issuing the final line backed by the whole of the stadium audience. "SURRENDER NOW, OR PREPARE TO FIGHT!" "Pikachu, pika pi!" added Pikachu. "Wai! That's so neat!" Shermie exclaimed, clapping her hands happily. "You even have the kawaii little mousie with you this time!" Jessie and Pikachu blinked, sweatdrops sliding down the backs of their heads. "SHERMIE, YOU DITZ!" came the bellow from the audience. "HURT THEM!" "Okay, Yashiro!" Shermie called back, dropping into a fighting stance. ][ ULTRARAGE REBOOT 1.0 MATCH #1 ][ SHERMIE vs. JESSIE ][ FIGHT!! Jessie and Pikachu exchanged glances, and Pikachu hopped off and scampered to the edge of the ring, waiting just outside. Pulling a bicycle chain out of her belt, the redheaded female member of Team Rocket with the thigh-high shinyleather boots fell into a ready stance, a somewhat wobbly confident smile pasted over her features. Shermie giggled. "This should be easy. Are you ready to be beat up now? Yash-chan will be so proud when he sees that I'm really the better fighter!" "What? The most beautiful member of Lambda just let herself be beaten up? Never!" "The most beautiful member of Lambda? You? I don't think so!" Shermie leapt up and rushed towards Jessie, sending a kick her way. Jessie swung the chain and managed to wrap Shermie's leg in it, then whipped it off, causing Shermie to fall head over heels. Jessie grinned. "You were saying?" Shermie reached up and grabbed the chain, pulling it sharply and knocking Jessie off of her feet as her arm was nearly yanked out of its socket. She then twirled the chain over her head and brought the end of it around, wrapping it around Jessie's arm. "Well, looks like the two fighters with more breasts than brains are into bondage. That should excite the feeble fans," Tarou noted. "It...looks like they're going to be somewhat...limited...in their movements, right?" Lain said, looking at Sana for approval. "Why yes! What a BRILLIANT move by Shermie! By causing her and Jessie to be so close together like that, it allows her to restrict Jessie's movements so that she can get some close kicks and punches!" Jessie appeared to have noticed that particular advantage too, as she was punched and thrown to one side of the ring, then pulled back like a yo-yo to Shermie, who simply punched her again. Just for a little variety, Shermie grabbed onto the chain with both hands, concentrated for a moment while electrical energy crackled around her, then sent it pulsing down the chain to Jessie, who was promptly electrocuted. Jessie fell over, twitching, but not quite down yet. "Did you SEE THAT? Shermie just used her electrical attack to shock Jessie!" "Wow, the ditz actually thought of doing something other than punching and kicking." "Oh...Poor Jessie. It looks like she's really hurt," Lain said, wincing in sympathy. Tarou and Sana stared at her. Tarou scoffed. "Try not to be so obviously new to this, cyber freak. Rocket slut was going to lose from the start. She's an incompetent buffoon." "With great fashion sense!" Sana added. "Oh..." Lain managed to get out. Shermie grinned. "Wai! A yo-yo!" she cheered, spinning Jessie out to the length of the chain and back again. The bouncing she did as she swung Jessie caused most of the nosebleed section to pass out. Jessie flinched as she whirled helplessly into the fist of the cute yet sadistic girl. Her stomach churned queasily as she was flung out again. Something red flickered in the corner of her eye and she instinctively reached out for it. The rope! She clung to it tightly and waited for the world to stop revolving around her as she was swung back and forth rapidly. Using her momentum, she managed to snap the chain out of Shermie's hands. Shermie apparently didn't expect this and was knocked temporarily off-balance. She managed to leap up and bounce off of the rope before impact. Unfortunately, she let go of the chain when she did so. "Ha! Now I've got you where I want you!" Jessie cried, as she threw the chain out of the ring, as far away from her as possible. Well, that didn't work. She grabbed onto one of the posts for support and hoped that Shermie wouldn't notice how badly she was swaying. Pasting a bright smile on her face, she flashed a victory sign to the audience, who cheered wildly. Shermie blinked. "Ano? Now you do? But you look in much worse shape than me." Jessie winced. "Thanks so much." Darn, she'd noticed. Shermie sighed. "Well, looks as though I'm going to have to just finish you off, and stuff." She rushed at Jessie, impacting solidly with a knee to the midsection and a fist to the face. Jessie fell back again, blood running from her nose and clutching her stomach. Shermie tapped her foot impatiently. "Had enough yet? Because I'm not done!" Meanwhile, in the reserved seats, two CHAOS members were having an animated discussion. "We've got to help Jessie!" James cried, tugging at Sakura. "Look at her! She's singed and bruised and her hair is a *mess*!" "Look, okay? This is what Daisuke said to do and we're going to do it." Sakura held up a communicator. "Let's make sure Dai's out of Ground Zero first." "Oh fine," James sulked as he slid lower in his chair. "This had better work or we're going to rescue Jessie ourselves!" "Hey, Dai?" Crackles of static emitted from the CHAOS communicator -- which looked like a wristwatch with a picture of Mr. Duck -- and then Daisuke's voice came through. "Yeah, I'm safe. I hope. Is Jessie as badly injured as she appears on TV?" Sakura glanced at the ring and winced. "Um. Well...I'm sure she'll pull through." "That bad?" James grabbed Sakura's wrist. "Can we do this already? Jessie's in trouble!" "Go ahead. Better do it fast." "Right!" James pulled out a remote control and pressed a button. With a soft fluttering sound a huge fabric banner descended from one of the struts supporting the vast canvas ceiling. A giant topless -- and slightly blushing -- Daisuke stared down at the crowd, swaying gently. James grinned and pressed another button. Spotlights hit the banner. "Woo!" he cheered. "I'm the man!" He stared down into the ring. "C'mon, Shermie...look up." Ringside, Jessie was taking a heck of a beating. She'd resorted to running around and around the ring with Shermie chasing her. Suddenly, she saw a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. Stopping short, causing Shermie to run into her, she pointed at the huge Daisuke sign. "Hey, Shermie, look! It's Daisuke-chan!" Shermie stopped in the middle of a vicious punch to Jessie's back and looked up. "Daisuke-chan! He must have done this just for me! I bet he's watching right now, I'd better make sure I look good for him!" Whipping out a mirror she quickly checked her hair and accessories, then powerposed for the cameras. "Yosh! Daisuke-chan, victory will be mine! I'll make you proud of me!" "Lickitung! Wrap attack, now!" "Aiieeee!" Shermie cried, as she got up close and personal with Jessie's pokemon. "Looks like Jessie's actually going to put up a fight," Tarou noted. "But she won't win. She's nothing but a punching bag for the halfwit over there." "Um...but it does appear that Shermie is immobile..." Lain said. "You're RIGHT Lain-chan! Let's see if Shermie breaks free from that grip!" Sana cried. Jessie threw down another pokeball. "Arbok! Glare attack now!" The serpentine pokemon reared its head and stared at Shermie with flashing eyes. She froze, trembling slightly with widening eyes. "Well, it doesn't look as though Shermie's going to be moving anytime soon..." Lain observed. "Shermie, you TWIT! Get up!" Yashiro stormed the ring-- "Daisuke-chan..." Shermie whimpered. "Looks like her equally idiotic partner's coming in to save the airhead," Tarou said. --and was promptly fried by Pikachu. "PIKACHU!" Or in other words, no interfering. Jessie grinned at Pikachu and gave the victory sign, keeping a wary eye on the immobile Shermie as the referee finished the ten-count. She smoothed her hair and blinked. "I won the fight?" She beamed at the cameras. "I won the fight! Go Team CHAMPION Rocket!" The crowd cheered markishly as she powerposed, waving to the fans. Then she noticed that Shermie was still being held captive. "Arbok, you can let go now." "Wah! That was so unfair! And I was just trying to look good for Daisuke-chan on TV!" Shermie cried cutely. Jessie sweatdropped. "Well, I've gotta go get ready for my next match now, so I'll just --" Yashiro stumbled into the ring, Pikachu glaring balefully at him. "Hold on! We're much better fighters than you pitiful freaks!" "He's got that right," Tarou grinned. "Let's see some GORE!" Sana yelled. "Um, you don't suppose they're going to fight now, do you?" Shermie nodded in agreement. "Yes! We're MUCH better fighters than you two! It's just not fair! That should be OUR title!" Jessie started edging away from the two. "Well, now really, I should be going." "No! We DEMAND a fight with you next week!" Yashiro demanded. "Right! We want our title back!" Shermie agreed. "Well then, you can have it. Next week." Everyone turned to see Nabiki's face on the Ultratron. "Oh no..." Jessie said. "Oh no..." James agreed from his vantage point up in the stands. "Wow! Lots of WAIWAI gore and stuff next week when the Disciples of the Void battle Team Rocket!" Sana exclaimed. "Let's hope so," Tarou grunted. "So, um, who's the next fighter up?" Lain asked. _Shermie____ | |---_Jessie_____ _Jessie_____| | | _Marlo______ |---___???______ | | | |---__???_______| | _Tifa_______| | | | _Mr._Satan__ |---___???______ | | |---__???_______ | _Morrigan___| | | | | _Akane______ |---___???______| | | |---__???_______| _Shingo_____| "And we'll be back with more BLOOD and GUTS and GOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" "Yes we will," Lain quietly agreed. * * * * * No matter how many times Meowth reminded them how lucky they were to have found one at all, Ash and Misty still weren't too fond of the taxi they were currently crammed into. It darted between pedestrians, progress becoming more hazardous but no less swift as they approached the Vatican border. "Tell me again why we're here?" Misty asked, face pale as a bag of groceries dropped by a kindly-faced woman bounced off the taxi's windshield. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?" Meowth muttered. "Da boss is countin' on us here." "But why us? Miss Tendou had never even talked to us before yesterday!" Ash laughed. "Come on, Misty, it's obvious! She knows we won't let them cheat!" In a stunningly unsurprising move, Misty looked completely unconvinced by Ash's bluster. The other voice of "reason" cut in, a calculating look on his feline face. As that was Meowth's standard appearance, Misty didn't think anything of it. "Look, Misty. Da boss is from dat place with all da martial artists, right? And dose guys won't shaddup about honor and doing da right thing." "Yeah..." Seeing where Meowth was going with this, Ash nodded and continued, "And so she's able to tell when people really care about what's right! And who's been talking about her doing stuff wrong? CHAOS! The same people who are working with Team Rocket!" "Well, yeah... I guess so." That matter settled, Ash leaned back. The taxi was nearly to the Vatican; soon their job would start. Ash knew he was ready. He was going to fight for what's right. And the whole world would see. * * * * * "WOW!" Sana bounced, waving her arms excitedly and accidentally smacking Tarou in the face. He scowled, but resisted the urge to pound the brat. Ms. Tendou's orders, after all... "That sure was some explosive, action-filled violence!" the hyper girl continued. "And that's *just* what the viewers like! So! WHO WANTS TO SEE SOME MORE... ULTRAVIOLENCE?!?!" The crowd, predictably, erupted into wild cheers. "ALL RIGHT!" Sana shouted. "Our next match is bound to be another doozy, as a strong-willed, talented woman who can KICK SOME ASS takes on a weak and cowardly loud-mouthed bozo!" Tarou coughed pointedly. "Wrong again, sugar-freak. This is *actually* a one-way fight between the guy who defined Hardcore as a category and an emotionally weak floozy without the common sense to wear *shorts* into fights. Marlo is a true credit to Ms. Tendou's Ultra, while Tifa is just an eternally love-sick bit of fluff who can't fight on her own." He folded his arms and nodded emphatically. "Marlo is the sure-fire winner." "That's RIGHT!" Marlo shouted triumphantly, standing framed between two statue-topped columns. Prearranged fireworks went off as he strode confidently down to the ring, the crowd booing him enthusiastically. Marlo slid under the ropes, picked up a microphone and began the rant o' the week. "Listen UP!" he shouted. "As you all know, I'm the only real competitor worth worshipping! The only one worth a shrine to my glory! I am the Ultra Hardcore GOD!!" A phalanx of bishops gasped in unison, tracing the sign of the cross above their hearts. Marlo ignored them in favour of the sound of his own voice. "But that's not the only reason I'm fighting today, oh no," he continued. "No, I've got a bone to pick with a certain little BITCH who thinks she knows how to play it with the big boys!" He sneered. "It's almost fair though. I mean she sure as hell LOOKS like one!" He took a deep breath. "That's right, Akane! I'm telling you right now, you had *better* make it through the first two rounds! Because when it comes to the final, I'm gonna break every bone in your flat-chested little body and pour you into a glass for Ranma to take home and CRY over! He's in touch with his emotions, isn't he? What a-" "Excuse me," a female voice interrupted pointedly. "But aren't you forgetting something?" Marlo whirled to face the originator of the voice, who stepped into the plaza, revealing herself as Tifa. "Wai!" Sana cheered, leaping to her feet. "Smash his spleen, Tifa-san!" Marlo smirked at the female half of the Lawbreakers. "You will be NO problem," he sneered, surreptitiously fingering something in his pocket. Tifa frowned and made her way down to the ring. "The shrine should go to a *real* fighter," she declared, hoisting herself over the ropes. "Not to an ill-mannered brat!" She settled into a relaxed stance, rubbing the materia on the back of her glove. ][ ULTRARAGE REBOOT 1.0 MATCH #2 ][ MARLO SEMAJ vs. TIFA LOCKHART ][ FIGHT!! Marlo's eyes narrowed. "Brat, eh?" He threw the mike at a flunky. "Gimme your best shot!" he declared. "You don't even have to come in close, right? Hit me with one of your wussy magic bolt things! I'll show you how the Furnityre Saviour handles little girls!" Tifa blinked. "Are you sure?" she asked. "What the hell are you waiting for?" Marlo taunted. "I'm giving you an obvious advantage, right? Surely a *real* fighter would take advantage of that!" "...I don't understand Marlo's tactics," Lain said hesitantly. "Tifa can just stand back and use her materia from a safe distance. He has to get in close to make any impact with his furniture, but he's thrown away any advantage he might have had, and is instead giving her a free shot. Um. Am I getting that right?" "Exactly right, Lain-chan!" Sana nodded, spontaneously hugging the other girl. "Didn't she do great, Tarou?" Tarou snorted. "No," he said bluntly. "She totally missed the fact that Marlo obviously has something *else* up his sleeve." He smirked. "Or in his pocket," he added. In the ring, Marlo's taunts were growing increasingly erratic. "Some fighter!" he yelled. "Yeah, I know all about you! Wussy girls like you gotta fight in a TEAM! You aren't STRONG enough to do it yourself. Where's your BOYFRIEND, huh? He might be worth a REAL fight! Then again, maybe you should stick him in one of your skirts, since you've got him wrapped around your finger! What a loser!" Tifa clenched her fists. Enough was more than enough. "BOLT!" she yelled, flinging one hand out to point at the furniture-wielding warrior. The lightning arced over the ring heading straight towards Marlo. Tifa wasn't sure what happened next. There was a flash of green as Marlo pulled something out of his pocket - and the lightning *bounced* off the boy and headed straight back to her. She arched her spine in pain as the electricity surged through her before it subsided, leaving her gasping. She shook her head to try and clear the pain, and grabbed one of the ropes. "... what the HELL was that?" Sana blurted. "Marlo somehow turned Tifa's spell back around on her! Boo!" Tarou grinned cockily and put his feet up on the announcer's table. "Told ya," he said smugly. Tifa let go of the rope and straightened. Okay, so Bolt obviously wouldn't work... "DEMI!' she shouted, fingering the green materia on the back of her glove. Pin him to the mat so she could take him out with straight brawling techniques... With a sudden jerk, her legs gave way and she fell down, face-first, feeling as if a giant hand was trying to push her *through* the apron. With a huge effort she lifted her head, finally spotting what Marlo held in his hand. Her eyes narrowed. Lain tapped a key on her laptop and frowned, whispering in Sana's ear. Sana gasped indignantly. "Folks, we have a new development here! That low-down weasel Marlo has somehow got hold of a Barrier materia and is using it to cast Reflect spells, bouncing Tifa's spells back at her!" "Hey, not so much a weasel, the guy's just uh... taking advantage of all his benefits," Tarou interjected. "And now that scanty-pants can't move, Marlo's got a great opportunity to really lay some smack down." Marlo grinned down at the prone woman and twirled a heavy beech table in his hands. "Any last words?" he inquired, then hoisted his weapon into the air. "Too late!" Tifa gritted her teeth and braced herself, convulsively clenching her fists as the pounding began. She vaguely heard Bean's shouts of protest, even over the displeased roar of the crowd, but put that firmly to the back of her mind. No time for it now. She jerked at a particularly nasty stroke at the back of her knee, then exhaled slowly, concentrating on the countdown in her head. 3... 2... 1...... NOW! As the spell's effects abruptly died, she rolled out of the way of the next table strike and off the ring, landing on her feet more out of luck than anything else. She staggered, then fell as a steel chair glanced off her skull. "That's it," Tarou announced. "Short, sweet and violent. You should like that, hyper freak." Sana scowled at him and settled back in her seat moodily. Marlo clambered through the ropes and threw another chair at the Lawbreaker. She didn't move. "That's RIGHT!" Marlo gloated. "Take away the fancy special effects and you're NOTHING!" He swiveled and grinned cockily at Bean, who was being held back by security. "Wanna come out and fight me, *Beanie*? Wanna help your little girlfriend?" He walked over to the prone woman and kicked her in the stomach, smirking at Bean all the while. Thus it was that he didn't actually *see* the hand that snaked out and grabbed his ankle as his foot withdrew, yanking him to the ground. "...YES!" Sana exploded, leaping to her feet again. "Tifa is back in the fight, folks!" Tifa didn't bother with getting to her feet, but rolled on top of the struggling boy, snapping off two quick punches to his head, and growling in the back of her throat. His eyes momentarily lost their focus and she pushed herself off, reaching for the steel chair. She managed to get another two strikes in before the self-styled Furnityre Savior got to his feet. "PROTECT!" he yelled, and Tifa backed off as a pale blue, almost translucent shield settled around Marlo. The boy regained his cocky grin. Tifa hurled the chair at him and had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch before it impacted harmlessly against the shield. It wouldn't last long, but while it was there, she couldn't get to him. Cat and mouse, perhaps. She settled into a fighting stance. "Come and get me," she invited. Marlo's eyes narrowed. "Ladies first, bitch," he spat, then laughed mockingly. "But what am I *saying*? You aren't a LADY!" With an incoherent battle cry, the camo-wearing boy tossed a china cabinet at Tifa. She dodged it easily, and the stereo speakers that followed it, running towards her opponent. Marlo blanched; he definitely didn't want her getting her fists on him again. He concentrated harder, becoming a blur of motion as he frantically pulled anything and everything out of Furniture Space and lobbed it at the woman racing towards him. Tifa stumbled on a loose pavement stone, and flung out her arms for balance. Unfortunately, she flung one of them into the flight path of a school desk, the impact flinging her into the ground again. Marlo grinned viciously and hefted a kitchen stove. Three steps to the injured woman, a nice flashy spin of the stove and bring it down hard on the injured arm... The sickening crack echoing sharply through the suddenly hushed packed plaza was mercifully drowned out by Tifa's scream of agony. "TIFAAAAAAAAA!!" Bean howled, as four more security guards hurried over. "He broke her arm!" Lain gasped. Tarou wore a grin that matched Marlo's. "Of course he did, cyber weirdo. This is *Hardcore*." Tifa rolled to her feet, gasping for breath and holding the injured arm close to her side. Marlo lazily lobbed a bar stool at her, certain of his victory now. "You ain't worth my time, toots," he scoffed. "Why don't you just give up and DIE?" Tifa gritted her teeth and dodged a curtain rod, wincing as the movement set off small stabbing explosions radiating out from her elbow. The little freak was playing with her, intending to finish her off in his own sweet time. She could give up, she rationalised. Her arm was the worst injury, but she had a hundred other aches and pains, while Marlo was almost fresh. She couldn't use magic, not as long as he had that Barrier materia. And her injuries would almost put her out of the running for the rest of the tournament, assuming she managed to defeat him. So, she could yield and avoid further torment. OR she could take advantage of the opening she'd just spotted and take the chance to lay the arrogant prick out hard, fast and violent. No choice, really. Galvanised into action, she slid forward, dodged under a poorly aimed ottoman and kicked Marlo in the stomach, driving all the air out of his lungs. Without pausing for the boy to recover from the blow, she kneed him in the throat and brought down her uninjured arm in a sharp chop at his neck. He stumbled back, eyes wide and jaw slack. Perfect. Face set in a grim smile, she settled into her oldest, best loved combination. "It's the BEAT RUSH!" Sana screamed. "WOOO! GAHLU POWAAA!" Lain winced slightly. "She's hitting him with her broken arm too," she commented. "Doesn't that hurt?" "You BET!" Sana agreed enthusiastically. "SHEER UNSPEAKABLE AGONY, all in the name of entertainment! WAIWAIWAI!!" Tifa did her best to ignore the now ice-cold agony in her arm and hit Marlo in the face with her other elbow. The boy staggered back, mouthing incoherent curses. Tifa didn't bother to try to make them out. She rapped his wrists sharply, hitting painful pressure points as he attempted to drag a sofa out of Furniture Space. Marlo dropped the sofa with a howl of pain, more curses spewing from his lips. Tifa grabbed her chance, sliding her uninjured hand into the left pocket of her opponent's cargo pants. It emerged a moment later, triumphantly clutching a green globe. "And Tifa is... turning tail and running?" Sana asked, puzzled. "What? BEAT HIM GOOD, TIFA-SAN!" Tarou sat bolt upright and groaned. "Ms. Tendou isn't going to like this..." he muttered, shading his eyes. Marlo spat out a dislodged tooth and snarled, his eyes feral. "RUN AWAY, BITCH!" he howled. "'COS WHEN I CATCH YOU YOU'RE *DEAD*!" He picked up the dropped sofa and hoisted it above his head, charging as fast as he could towards the diminutive figure at the other end of the plaza. She was pointing at him, he realised dimly through the red mists of rage. Didn't matter. He was gonna kill her anyway! "QUAKE 2!" ... right after he took a short nap. Tifa watched the Furniture Warrior for a few moments as the ten count was sounded and satisfied herself that he was still breathing. Then she allowed the referee to hold her unbroken arm into the air, smiling pleasantly at the crowd who responded with wild applause. Sana was almost out of her mind with enthusiasm. "WOW! Wasn't that GREAT?!?! A complete turnaround in the fortunes of the battle!" "I liked it," Lain added. "I'm glad Tifa won. Navi, may we please see the current standings?" The graphic flashed onscreen again. _Shermie____ | |---_Jessie_____ _Jessie_____| | | _Marlo______ |---___???______ | | | |---_Tifa_______| | _Tifa_______| | | | _Mr._Satan__ |---___???______ | | |---___???______ | _Morrigan___| | | | | _Akane______ |---___???______| | | |---___???______| _Shingo_____| "Waiwaiwaiwaiwai!" Sana cheered. "Two women who kick all sorts of ass have made it to the next round! Goooo Jessie! Gooooooo Tifa! You deserved to win!" "Luck," Tarou blustered. "Marlo *should* have been the winner." Tifa ignored the announcers' chatter and smiled at the man racing towards her. He grinned back. "Good work, Teef," he said finally. "I'm proud of ya. It's a shame about the rest of the tournament though." Tifa blinked. "What are you talking about?" she asked. Bean stared at her incredulously. "You can't possibly keep fighting with that arm, Teef," he said slowly. "You can't even be *thinking* about fighting." "I'll fight," Tifa said firmly. "What's more, I'll win." "But-" Bean began, and stopped as Tifa laid a hand on his lips. "No buts," she said softly. "This is something I'm doing for myself. Because I'm a fighter too, you know. And the shrine should go to a fighter." Bean nodded reluctantly. "Okay..." he said. "Um. Now what?" Tifa winced. "*Now* I get this arm into some sort of cast, and pronto. And I want some painkillers, Beanie. You got any Advil?" * * * * * In the cavernous black space of Gendo's office, the leaders of ShadowNERV were meeting. Gendo sat, as always, at the monolith of his desk, fingers laced in front of his mouth, the light reflecting against his glasses. The ever-grinning visage of M. Bison was projected from a flat holographic screen that hovered above Gendo's desk. "So," Ikari stated. "You wished to speak to me." The image of Bison flickered. "Yes, Ikari. It occurs to me that the relationship between Shadowlaw and your organization has not been sufficiently... mutual." Bison's grin displayed more of his excellent dental work in a display of sadistic humor. "After all, I've been more than fair. Funding for your work, materials on demand... why, I've had some of my top men watching your back from the very beginning." "I see..." "But what have I received in turn, Commander?" Bison asked. "The occasion to use your impressive war machines hasn't arisen, sadly. Not to mention that you did lose several of your pilots... The cost-benefit analysis just doesn't support our continued relationship." The crimson- suited criminal overlord shook his head in mock sadness. "What's your point, Bison?" Gendo stated levelly. "NERV is being... downsized, shall we say," Bison chuckled. "But you've been a sufficiently entertaining plaything that offering you this warning amused me. Perhaps you can consider it a token of respect, one bastard to another. Goodbye, Ikari." The holographic screen dissolved, leaving Gendo alone in the darkness. After a moment, Gendo picked up the line to the command center. "Fuyutsuki. It's time..." * * * * * St. Peter's Square suddenly went silent, preternaturally so. Sana's eyes darted left and right rapidly, trying to figure out why the crowd's furious roaring had suddenly died out. Bouncing in her seat, she tried to infuse the audience with her pep before realizing what it was. Anticipation. Pure anticipation. It hung in the air, almost palpable. The sense that something big was going to happen, that *this* was the fight the people wanted to see. They wanted blood, guts, spectacle. They wanted... "And for our next match," Lain not-quite-monotoned, "here comes our first contender. Once known as 'Earth's Greatest Hero', he now--" A chorus of trumpets blared out amidst a wash of piano and drumbeats, interrupting the glassy-eyed webmonkey's litany and announcing the arrival of the next fighter. Lain looked up from her script and from side to side, blinking only once in mild confusion. "Oh yeah, here comes the washed-out has-been!" Tarou picked up where Lain had left off. "None other than the all-powerful awe-inspiring fan favorite, the FRAUD of Ultra! What can we expect today? Maybe his cheap luck will hold out long enough for him to last longer than a minute against Miss Tendou's champion, Morrigan. But really, I don't expect him to do more than stumble and falter again, as he blun--" "SATAN SATAN Everybody's friend!" Tarou blinked at being cut off. Sana had leapt atop the announcer's table and whipped out her Nori-Nori. "Oh good god, no," Tarou said, letting his head sink to the table. "I do *NOT* know this freak," he announced into his own microphone. "SATAN SATAN Everybody's friend!" Sana's rap machine echoed out, distorting and bending her words. Tarou beat his head against the table as Sana bopped across the table, oblivious to all and lost in song (if, in fact, it could be called that). To add injury to... well, more injury, the Nori-Nori kicked into overdrive. o/~ Satan is the greatest hero there ever was! So leap to your feet and cheer for just cause! Lunch is ready, fried tako! Satan's coming, everybody go! Apple, lemon, grape, peach, orange! Let's all hear how you will--- URK! o/~ "Look, I realize you are a complete idiot, but even you should know that 'orange' and 'urk' do not..." he trailed of as he turned to look at his co-announcer, so that he could berate her properly. The sight that met his eyes caused him to falter though. "Rhyme," he finished lamely. The sight that met his eyes was one that would give most anyone reason to double-take. It wasn't often that you saw a grade-school idol star and the leader of the largest religious organization in the world scrambling about the floor madly. But, that is exactly what was happening. Tarou shook his head, glancing back over his shoulder to confirm that, yes, the Popemobile *was* empty, and that *no*, he was not imagining Sana and Pope John Paul II wrestling for control of the microphone. The two were rolling around the floor, grabbing, tearing, shoving, and pretty much everything short of biting. Tarou sighed, glancing over to the control booth. Catching sight of Nabiki shaking her head, he sighed again, slumping back in his chair to wait for the pre-fight wrestling match to conclude. As confirmation, the bosslady's voice sounded in his headset. "His Holiness is a Satan fan. Go figure. Just let them scuffle for a bit... it's good for the ratings. And stop slouching!" Tarou straightened up instinctively, not wanting to upset the lady upstairs. Adopting his trademark smirk, he turned to watch the scuffle. He had to admit, for a senile eighty-year-old Polish guy, the Pope sure was getting in a few good solid blows. Eventually, the two broke apart, glaring at each other spitefully. The microphone was on the floor, half-way between the two of them. They both climbed to their feet, eyeing the other warily and circling the mic. "Ano..." Both Sana and the Pope turned to face the source of the interjection. Lain stood over them, holding her microphone out. "If you both wish to announce, it is perfectly all right with myself. I can refrain from commenting during this match." "Waaaaaaaaaaai!" the two combatants suddenly chirped, all hostilities forgotten. Happily, they settled into their seats and looked expectantly toward the entrance ramp. Tarou looked from one to the other, then scowled. "Anyway," Tarou said, dragging the focus of the cameras away from the not-at-all- embarrassed duo. "Let's try this again... music please?" The first few chords struck up again when the Pope leaped to his feet screaming out, "SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!" And as one, the entire crowd started screaming loud enough to wake the dead. Which, some who were trying to do quiet meditation deep within the libraries of the Vatican would claim, is exactly what happened. Mr. Satan strode somewhat less-than-confidently down the ramp toward the ring. It was a bit paranoid, he admitted to himself, but still... it felt wrong, being named Satan and wandering into the heart of the Christian faith. It was just a wee bit sacrilegious, and rubbed him the wrong way. But the crowd did seem to be welcoming him... enthusiastically, even. Mr. Satan pulled himself up into the ring. He waved at the crowd, happy to see they were accepting him, if not supporting him outright. Signs were spread throughout the teeming masses of Ultra fans proclaiming "Satan 3:16 says 'Whoop demon ass'!" and "It's pronounced SA-TA-N!" Basking in the glow of adoration, Mr. Satan put his hands on his hips and allowed himself to pose just a bit. He beamed widely, waving to the fans. "And here he is, folks!" the Pope cried, bubbling with Sana-like levels of energy. "The one, the only! The Greatest! Miiiiiisteeeeeeer SATAN! That's right, people, tonight you will see the fist of righteousness rend that sinful harlot LIMB from frickin' LIMB!!" Glancing over at the announcer's table, Mister Satan blinked in confusion. That couldn't be the Pope, he thought, deciding that it was probably some lookalike, some publicity gag on Nabiki's part. But he did look awfully like the real thing. His train of thought was derailed when suddenly something hit him in the face. Reaching up, he pulled away the flimsy bit of cloth that had been thrown at him. He flinched when he recognized the silky panties for what they were and wheeled around, expecting to find the accursed temptress who was the most recent bane of his existence. Instead, his gaze fell upon a blushing nun in the front row, who was jumping up and down, clutching a sign that read "Steal *MY* Soul!". "Wai! He can steal my soul, too!" Sana chirped. Turning to address the camera, she continued, "But only if he returns it and adds in at *least* six percent interest, just like my manager, Rei-kun!" "Everybody loves Mr. Satan!" Pope John Paul II proclaimed. "It's just a sign of his wonderful wholesome afroey goodness!" "Oh, give it up, Popey," Tarou said, shaking his head. "Let's move away from this pathetic spectacle on to the *real* star of the evening, the Reigning Champion of Gamma... MORRIGAN... AENSLAND!" The low drumbeat of "Call Me Sexy Queen," Morrigan's signature music, kicked in as an impressive pyrotechnic display was set off, alighting fireworks and filling the entryway with thick smoke. Through the gray veil, a figure made itself visible to a booing audience. Gasps of shock and horror replaced the boos and jeers as the assorted bishops, priests, and nuns caught sight of the Gamma beltholder. As she passed by, the crosses and rosaries were whipped out en masse, held outstretched as though to ward off the ambient sensuality. The buxom and very sinfully-dressed succubus was very slowly making her way down the ramp and the aisle toward the ring. Granted, she was going as quickly as Wolverine's hands and knees would carry him, as she was riding his back, sidesaddle. The bestial fighter was fitted with reins and blinders. For her part, Morrigan had apparently not insisted that he wear a saddle. As he ambled down the aisle, the winged demoness smacked his bottom playfully with a riding crop. As they came up to ringside, Morrigan slipped from Wolverine's back and scratched the mutant behind his ears. She ducked down and rubbed her nose against his, cooing to him. "Now that's a GOOD boy. Yes, you are! Yes, you are!" Turning to face her opponent, Morrigan offered a predatory smile. "And as she enters, Morrigan lets everyone know exactly who is in charge," Tarou smirked. "The symbolism of her mastery over her fallen opponents should be plain even to someone as dimwitted as you," he said, speaking to Sana. "Feh," the Pope scoffed. He waved his hand dismissively at Morrigan. "She's a creature of Hell! She's gonna burn forever! GO MISTER SATAN!" "Waaaaaaaaaai!" Sana bubbled. "Sex and Violence and Big POOFY Hair!! What more do you need from a fight!" Tarou and the Pope exchanged worried glances, then turned their attention back to the ring. Morrigan leaped into the air, using her wings to carry her higher. Turning a graceful somersault at the zenith of her jump, she came down in the ring, directly in front of Mr. Satan. Reaching out, she ran her left hand across his muscled chest, teeth glinting in the light. "So how are we going to do it today, dear? Would you like to take it nice and slow, or just a quick tumble?" She looked up into his eyes and licked her lips hungrily. "Or shall we stop playing hard-to-get and just get it on?" ][ ULTRARAGE REBOOT 1.0 MATCH #3 ][ MR. SATAN vs. MORRIGAN AENSLAND ][ FIGHT!! Mr. Satan scowled in response. He pushed Morrigan away roughly, then turned his shoulder to her. He was still watching her warily, unsure of what tricks she might have up her sleeve. Morrigan sniffled theatrically. "Are you trying to say you don't like me?" Morrigan pouted, hurt plain in her voice, but not in her demeanor. "No," Mr. Satan said through gritted teeth. Much as he hated to admit it, there was nothing but enmity in his heart for the... person in front of him. She was the one who mocked and teased him, and insulted the memory of his dearly departed wife. "I don't like you." Morrigan merely raised an eyebrow in response. She slowly raised her index finger to her lip, tugging down in a thoughtful pose. "Why, then... I have to wonder," she started, her voice dripping with overacted innocent sincerity. She turned the cuteness up to near-Lilith levels before going on. "What this was all about?" She snapped her fingers, and the Ultratron flashed to life. On the screen, the fuzzy image of Mr. Satan's door appeared. It looked to be filmed on a camcorder, from the quality of the picture. From the left, a young man in a brown uniform stepped up to the door. Checking the room number against the one on his clipboard, he nodded. He stepped off-camera for a second and then returned. There was the vague sight of a large package being set down out of the camera's eye, but it was in the corner of the screen, and hard to make out. Stepping up to the door, the delivery boy knocked smartly three times. Almost in response, the door snapped open, halting only when the chain- lock drew taut. The unsuspecting delivery boy jumped back, obviously not expecting such a response. An eye peered out through the doorway at the delivery boy, down at the floor at the as-yet-unseen package, then back at the delivery boy. The delivery boy tugged nervously at his collar. "Ummm... I have a package for a... Mr. Santa. Is he there?" The door closed. The sound of a chain rattling was heard, and then the door opened fully. Mr. Satan stepped out into the hallway, peering left and right anxiously. Satisfied no one was around, he turned back to the boy and nodded. "Yeah, that's, ah, me. Santa. Right. Where do I sign?" The boy handed him the clipboard and indicated the requisite dotted lines. As Mr. Satan signed in triplicate, the boy bent over and picked up the package and held it up for the camera to see in all its glory. "Here you go, Sir. One de-luxe life-sized Morrigan plushie! Guaranteed to keep you company on all of your lonely nigh-- URK!" he said, cut off by Mr. Satan clamping his massive hands over the boy's mouth. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed, grabbing the plushie. Looking around nervously, he disappeared back into his room as the image faded out. Morrigan grinned slyly as she turned back to the furiously blushing Greatest Hero. "Why, Satan darling... it would seem that you *DO* like me!" she exclaimed, sauntering over and plastering herself to his chest. Ignoring his mumbled protests and walking her fingers lazily up his arm, she cooed into his ear softly (but loud enough for the microphones to pick up). "Why don't we both just forget this whole thing, you go ahead and forfeit the match, and then we can go back to my place for a... nightcap?" Mr. Satan shivered. Something was stirring deep within him, something he hadn't felt in a long while. Distant echos of the past, yearnings for the forbidden pleasures offered by the delectable morsel of womanhood who was all-too-willing to yield herself up to him. His resolve slowly breaking down, his lower lip began to tremble. Dare he actually-- "Say it ain't so!" a voice cried out from the audience. Satan blinked. "Say it ain't so!" another voice chimed out. Mr. Satan turned to see the shocked visage of none other than the Pope himself. He looked down, into the audience. *His* audience. His fans. "Say it ain't so!" the crowd called out, as one. The audience staring up at him in shock and dismay, not wanting to believe that their hero was guilty of such... base acts and impure lusts. He felt sick to his stomach, letting his head drop in shame. How could he have let himself stray? The fight hadn't even started, and Morrigan was already winning, had already defeated him. "No," he said. He shook his head. "No." Raising his head and a clenched fist, he repeated himself a third time. "NO!" He turned to look out over the crowds of Mr. Satan fans. "Do you honestly believe what she's saying? That I actually lust after her?" The crowd responded with a hearty "HELL NO!" "That's right! This... foul temptess is filled with lies and deceit, and if for no other reason, *that*!" he stated, turning back to face the succubus, "is why I must strike you down with great vengeance. Am I right?" The entire crowd leaped to its feet, screaming and cheering. At the announcers' table, Sana and the Pope were bouncing up and down, somehow managing not to get entangled with their microphone cables. "Well, if you *must* be that way," Morrigan said, slumped her shoulders in defeat. "I guess I'll have to resort to this." Suddenly, she favored Mr. Satan with a triumphant grin. Bringing her fingers up to her mouth, she wolf-whistled loudly. "Get him, boy!" she shouted. Mr. Satan had barely enough time to register her words before he was flung to the side, a heavy weight blindsiding him. Tumbling to the edge of the ring, Satan reached up to grab ahold of the ropes. He picked himself up off the floor and and looked up. Wolverine stood in the middle of the ring, atavistic rapture plain on his otherwise vacant face. Hunkered over bestially, he slowly advanced on Satan, hands held out low. A thin trail of spittle hung from the corner of his jaw. Mr. Satan glanced around the ring. Morrigan had flown up to the opposite post. Wolverine was getting closer. Thankfully, he hadn't extended his claws yet, but that was only a matter of time. There really wasn't much time to do anything, except... "Satan Puuuuuuuuunch!" he shouted, launching himself suddenly forward, directly at Wolverine. He was gambling that he'd catch the mutant off- guard, and his bet paid off. His fist connected, burying itself into Wolverine's gut. The mutant had obviously not expected Satan to make the first move, and especially not in so dramatic a fashion, and so was flung limply back against the ropes. Wolverine straightened up, grinning ferally as he held his hands out again. Silver glinted under the lights of the arena as he extended his claws. Snarling loudly, he lunged at Mr. Satan, blades flashing cruelly as he slashed and swiped at his opponent. Satan fell back against the onslaught, dodging and ducking as he could, trying to avoid being rendered into shredded bits of Hero. Tarou glanced over at Sana. The hyperactive child actress had gone dumb, mesmerized by the fight before her and hopehopehoping to see flying chunks of bloody flesh. He chuckled despite himself. "Why, I don't think we've seen such gleeful carnage since the last Crusade, wouldn't you agree, John Paul?" The wizened pontiff glared at Tarou for a half-second before reaching over and smacking him soundly across the back of the head. "This is wrestling," he said matter-of-factly. He turned back to the fight in front of him. "This is more important." In the ring, Morrigan was laughing loudly, whooping it up for the audience as the two men danced about, one on the attack, one on the retreat. Satan was so preoccupied with avoiding Wolverine's claws that he'd only been able to counter a handful of times. Of course, in exchange, his skin had managed to remain unpierced, a fact that Satan was rather grateful for. Wolverine was getting frustrated, he could tell... There was no reason or strategy to his attacks, just constant lunging and swiping and slashing. The fact that he hadn't connected yet only served to make him angrier, more furious, more deadly. Satan steeled himself as Wolverine flew toward him again, his arms spread wide to sweep inward with his claws. Timing the impact just right, Satan darted forward and grabbed ahold of both of Wolverine's wrists, using his superior strength to hold the struggling mutant in check. Of course, his leverage left much to be desired, and it was only a matter of time before the mutant broke free. Morrigan looked up from where she was busy filing her nails. She frowned as she saw Wolverine hadn't managed to rip Mr. Satan into itty bitty pieces, although admittedly, there was a little (big!) part of her that wanted him to remain in one piece, so that she could enjoy him at her own leisure. "C'mon, Wolverine," she shouted. "Finish him! Or you won't get any... treats tonight!" Wolverine surged forward with renewed strength, knocking Mr. Satan to the mats. His wild eyes met Mr. Satan's as he stepped forward, filling the older man with fear. Wolverine lowered a claw, holding it just under Satan's chin. "Submit, Satan!" Morrigan called out. "Just say the word and I'll call him off. Hold your tongue... and you won't last long enough to regret it!" She hopped down from the post and sauntered over, placing a hand on Wolverine's shoulder. "Good boy," she said, scratching the mutant's back. Satan gulped. "N-n-never!" he shouted, wincing inwardly, but keeping a stiff upper lip. If he was going to go out, it would be proud, not cowering in fear. Wolverine growled happily, raising his other hand to deal the killing blow... And suddenly a bolt of blue shot out from the crowd, knocking Wolverine's hand back, away from Mr. Satan. Taking advantage of the confusion, Mr. Satan scrambled back and rose to his feet. Wolverine howled mournfully, holding his injured hand in front of him. Morrigan turned away from where she was scanning the crowd to look at him, gasping at what she saw. Wolverine's entire lower arm had been frosted over. "Prepare for trouble!" a male voice proclaimed. "And... ummm... make it double?" a female one seconded, slightly embarrassed. "Do we have to do this?" she whined. A spotlight suddenly illuminated the source of the voices. James and Sakura stood at ringside, powerposing mightily after stepping out from the crowd. James sweatdropped and turned to Sakura. "Yes, we do, Sakura... Contractual obligations and all. Don't ask," he hissed. Resuming his pose, he continued with his recitation. "To protect the world from devasta... Oh, screw it. Eat frost, demon!" James jammed back on the trigger to his ice gun, ready to rain glowing frosty doom upon Morrigan. He squeezed off three shots, one hitting each of the three people in the ring. "Sorry about that!" James called out to Mr. Satan, who was staring in shock at his frozen moustache. Luckily for him, neither Wolverine nor Morrigan were in a position to take advantage of his distracted state, as they'd taken injuries of their own -- Wolverine's left arm again, and Morrigan's left side. "Wai!" Sakura chirped before opening fire herself. "Well, well, well... it's getting a bit chilly on stage, but the action is only heating up! Wouldn't you agree, Tarou m'boy?" the Pope asked him. "Why, the only thing rising faster than the crowd's heartbeats are Morrigan's nipples!" Tarou turned his head slowly and just *glared* at the pontiff. Pope John Paul II giggled and pointedly turned back to the stage, where Wolverine was busy leaping all around the ring, trying to avoid James and Sakura's blasts. Morrigan was trying to keep Mr. Satan between herself and the armed assailants, as flying into the air would do nothing but mark her as a big, busty target. "Oh-hoho!" the Pope laughed uproariously. Grinning, he elbowed Tarou in the side. "What was that you said about carnage?" Standing up, he cupped his hands around his mouth. "GO SATAAAAAA--" he shouted, before being rudely interrupted by a stray shot striking him in the chest and freezing him over. "Ooopsie!" James called out in apology, before turning his attention back to Wolverine. He squeezed off three more rapid shots, finally hitting the mutant's legs and waist, immobilizing the nimble fighter. The distraction of Wolverine dealt with, Morrigan stood little chance as Mr. Satan advanced upon her, locking his arms around hers in a full-nelson. Sakura finished the job, hosing the succubus down with a stream of icy bliss. A look of something approaching vindictive anger flashed across Mr. Satan's face as he studied Morrigan. With a shrug, he turned to the audience and smiled widely. He reached out a finger and flicked the block of ice that imprisoned the succubus, knocking it to the ground for the requisite ten-count. "SUUUUUGOI!" Sana shouted, as the ref held Mr. Satan's arm up in victory. The assembled masses roared even louder, the echos building and crescendoing, and then building again. The medical technicians hurried out to the ring to escort Morrigan and Wolverine from center stage, and to offer Mr. Satan a heating pad. Tarou scowled as he turned to face the camera. "And we'll be back, folks, as soon as we get the Pope thawed out." He stuck his thumb over his shoulders, where the ice-encased pontiff was being hauled off on a hand truck. "But first, let's take a look at the standings." _Shermie____ | |---_Jessie_____ _Jessie_____| | | _Marlo______ |---___???______ | | | |---_Tifa_______| | _Tifa_______| | | | _Mr._Satan__ |---___???______ | | |---_Mr._Satan__ | _Morrigan___| | | | | _Akane______ |---___???______| | | |---___???______| _Shingo_____| * * * * * "Hieeeee! This is Sana welcoming you back to UltraREBOOT! Stick around, 'cause our next match is the final first round match of the Internet Championship! And don't forget, we're waiting for the announcement of the fight card for our next PPV, UltraRage Epsilon! There's sure to be more fun, excitement and previews of the newest people chosen to be mangled and maimed in the ring!" Tarou continued, "In this match, Shingo Yabuki, the only male I've seen change clothes more often than a shopping-crazy woman in a department store, will be fighting Akane Tendou." Lain remarked, "Shingo's... been training hard, I'm sure. I hope he does well." Tarou sniffed. "Him? He couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag that had holes at both ends. Costume-boy doesn't even belong here." Sana piped up, "But wasn't he the Gamma champion for a while?" Tarou retorted, "So was Hibiki. ANYONE can be the Gamma champion if they're lucky." Sana motioned for Tarou to hush. "Enough about that, the fight's about to begin! The contenders are coming out now from their respective ends of the Basilica! Let's hear it for Shingo, Akane and VIOLENCE! YEAH!" ][ ULTRARAGE REBOOT 1.0 MATCH #4 ][ AKANE TENDOU VS. SHINGO YABUKI ][ FIGHT! Shingo inclined his head towards Akane. "Good evening, Akane." Akane bowed slightly in return. "Good evening, Shingo." She settled into a defensive stance. "Ready?" Shingo leaned side to side, stretching his back and legs. "Ready for a fight... well, no. A match, yes. See, Akane, I really don't want to fight you. I have absolutely no reason to." Akane nodded. "I'd rather not beat up someone who's a friend to a friend of mine." "Any idea how we can settle this without too much violence?" Akane shrugged. "How about a sparring match? No ki attacks, no special stuff like that, just straight martial arts. We can use the Gamma one-fall rule if that makes you comfortable." Shingo agreed. "Sure. First to fall surrenders?" Akane indicated that he was correct with a swift nod. "Well then, how about I make things a bit more comfortable for you? "Huh?" "Shingo power, henshin! Form of... TENDOU!" Shingo whirled around in a 360 and faced Akane once more. Though this time it wasn't Shingo Yabuki who faced her; it was her father. Shingo's head abruptly grew ten times in size. "Young lady, get back to your training!" he yelled. "How do you expect to take over the dojo if you don't train?!" Akane giggled. "That's a pretty good impression of Father you did there. Have you met him?" Shingo shook his now normal-sized head. "No, but Ranma told me about him a little while I was training under him." Akane smiled. "Can you do another? You're pretty good." Shingo looked through his notes momentarily, then decided on another form. "Shingo power, henshin! Form of... SAOTOME!" Shingo swirled around again to reveal that he had changed his appearance to that of Ranma Saotome. "And just what are *you* lookin' at, ya uncute tomboy?" Shingo-Ranma said. "Baka!" Akane shouted as she reached back for a mallet... then she realized that she agreed to use simply martial arts in the match. "Um, I mean, good job, Shingo! Do another!" "WAHHHH! This is boring! They're not drawing blood or spilling guts or even throwing a punch! BOO!" Sana yelled, a fierce look in her eye. Tarou remarked, "I've seen snail races more exciting than this. Maybe it's just a plan by Akane to keep Shingo busy for a while and she'll whack him while he's distracted, but somehow I doubt it. She's too nice." Sana glared at Tarou. "Well, tell her not to be nice. I want to see violence! I want to see someone get hurt! Or lots of someones!" Sana heard a familiar voice from over her shoulder. "Just wait a minute. Thunder Thighs will be in pain momentarily. Count on it." As Sana spun around to see the source of the voice, she caught a brief glimpse of a camouflaged young man disappearing behind a pillar. Meanwhile, Shingo had decided on his next trick. "Shingo power, henshin! Form of... HIROSHI!" Akane facefaulted. Shingo explained, "Well, he was a fighter at one time." The only qualities Shingo lacked were the red eyes and pale hair traditionally associated with NERV clones. He took a deep breath to attempt his impersonation of Hiroshi's most famous move. "Are you ready for some Ultraaaaa--*cough cough*" Okay, so he was missing the lung capacity and the loud voice, too. Akane gave him a clap of the hands for trying, though. Shingo hastily apologized, saying, "Here, let me try another one! Shingo power, henshin! Form of... KUNOU!" Shingo produced a bokken from somewhere in addition to his quick-change outfit's instant switch to Tatewaki Kunou's traditional garb. "Ah, the lovely Akane Tendou! I would date with thee!" Akane frowned. "Good impression, Shingo, but someone I'd care to forget about right now. Besides, if you fought me looking like that I'd be inspired to give you all I've got. Got any others?" Shingo quickly decided on his next form. "Shingo power, henshin! Form of... TAROU!" Akane now stood in view of the real Pantyhose Tarou, sitting at the announcer's table, and a pretty good copy directly in front of her. Tarou shot out of his seat. "HEY! Get back to your own form, you pathetic excuse for a fighter! You're already on my nerves because you sided with that spiky-haired, immature freak who couldn't run a lemonade stand without losing money. You DON'T want me after you personally as well. Trust me." He clenched a fist for emphasis. Shingo reverted to his own garb and Tarou sat down. Nabiki's voice came through his headset, saying, "Calm down a little, Tarou. We don't want the fans siding with CHAOS because of you flying off the handle and beating up Shingo, do we?" Tarou shook his head. "I thought not. Now get back to announcing. Feel free to needle, but don't punk him in public." "Yes, Miss Tendou," Tarou whispered. He turned to Sana. "Who's costume-boy gonna turn into next?" "I hope he does Iori again! That Iori guy has some sharp nails! He draws lots and lots and lots of juicy red BLOOD!" Sana cheered. "...you're even more disturbing than loudmouth was. Back to the match. Costume-boy's looking through his notes for yet another change, and it seems that the fans as well as the other announcers are getting bored." Indeed, the Spanish announcers were so bored that they had fallen dead asleep at the table. Unfortunately for them, their impromptu pillow broke beneath their heads and the two announcers fell forward out of their chairs. Shingo furiously sped through his notes for someone, anyone else to change into. Finally he spotted his next choice. He checked his book one last time before announcing, "Shingo power, henshin!" He looked up and dropped his jaw. "MARLO!" Akane waited for a moment, then turned her head sideways, confused. "You don't look like Marlo, Shingo. I don't think you did it right." Shingo pointed furiously behind Akane. "No, I mean Marlo! Look out behind you!" Marlo Semaj, furious at his earlier loss, had snuck up behind Akane and now held a sofa over his head, poised to strike. As soon as Akane faced him, he dropped the blow on Akane's head, knocking her to the ground. "I wanted to let you see who it was who had beaten you," Marlo coldly remarked. He placed the sofa over Akane's body and jumped on top of it a couple times for good measure, then turned to face the crowd. "Didja miss me, everyone? The Furnityre Savior is back once again, this time to prevent this rabble of the tournament from advancing beyond where she deserved to be!" Marlo accentuated his exclamation with another jump on the sofa. "I don't even understand why she's here! The only person she's ever fought is me. The only reason she was brought in was to contest with me. She has no record, no reputation and worst of all, no skill!" Marlo punctuated the last word with a forceful kick to the sofa cushion he was soapboxing from. "Which would you, the fans rather have? A fighter with skill, a fighter with guts or a fighter who causes earthquakes with every step she takes and stops trains just by sticking one of her thunder thighs in the way?" Marlo waved his arm dramatically in the air as he continued, "*I* am the Hardcore master! I will be taking my belt back at UltraRage Epsilon, and I will never lose it to this unskilled tomboy or anyone like her again!" "Haven't you had enough of hearing yourself talk?" Marlo turned. "Huh? Who said that?" Shingo waved his hand. "Get off the sofa, Marlo." "And what if I don't?" Marlo asked as he jumped up, landing with his elbow driven into the sofa which still trapped Akane. Shingo stretched his legs. "Or I'll remove you from the sofa myself. Get off. NOW." "Okay, okay, if that's the way you want it." Marlo stood up, stepped away from the heavily bruised and unconscious Akane, picked up the sofa and held it in front of him menacingly. "Bring it, Mr. Righteous. I can handle you." Shingo bent his knees in preparation. "OBORO GURUMA MIKANSEI!" Shingo flew up into the air toward Marlo, left leg extended. While still rising, he spun around and kicked out his right leg. Marlo raised the sofa to block Shingo, deciding to stay on the ground and let Shingo, who was on course to clear Marlo by a good four or five feet, go over his head. What Marlo wasn't counting on was Shingo stopping in the middle of his arc and crashing to the ground. The result was an embarrassed Shingo with his face planted in the sofa, which was resting with Marlo crushed rather painfully beneath. Shingo got up, shook his head to clear his vision and gave the crowd a thumbs up. "Yosh!" "...and once again through incredible dumb luck and a fumbled move, Shingo wins the match." Tarou turned to Lain. "Who's he fight next, again?" Lain looked at Navi and motioned for the current card. It appeared in big bright letters overhead, so people could easily see the winners of the first round and the big pathetic losers. Well, that's what Sana was calling them, anyways. _Shermie____ | |---_Jessie_____ _Jessie_____| | | _Marlo______ |---___???______ | | | |---_Tifa_______| | _Tifa_______| | | | _Mr._Satan__ |---___???______ | | |---_Mr._Satan__ | _Morrigan___| | | | | _Akane______ |---___???______| | | |---_Shingo_____| _Shingo_____| "Mr. Satan," Lain redundantly replied. Tarou rolled his eyes. "Can someone get a tranquilizer or some blinders down here? I don't even want to WATCH that match. Overhyped wuss with a heart of gold and a head of ugly hairstyle takes on our champion of changing. Shoot me now." "WAI!" Sana said. "Anyone have a gun I can do it with? Can I shoot you through a big vein or artery so more blood will come out?" Tarou snapped, "I didn't mean... oh, never mind. This is Tarou for Ultra. We'll be back after these messages." * * * * * It was a sunny happy shiny pleasant day in the GeoFront of Tokyo-3. The birds were singing, the sun was filtering nicely through the redirection windows in the ceiling, and below, near the rear entrance of Central Dogma, a bunch of random guards were getting their throats cut by Shadowlaw storm troopers. This was followed by a series of crimson portals popping open out of thin air and disgorging several tanks, mortars, and equipment carriers more suited to moving space shuttles than anything else. Then the shelling started. As Shadowlaw's troops stormed Tokyo-3, ripples spread outward. Other alarms beside the klaxons within Central Dogma rang warnings. * * * * * The nerve center of Heaven is, compared to the Ultradome, a very quiet place. Of course, when compared with the Ultradome, the trading floor of the stock exchange is blissfully silent. But you get the idea. As you descend into the lower basements and sub-basements of Heaven, things only get quieter. Very rarely is someone seen down here - a soul or two who's wandered way off course, the occasional angel on some ineffable mission from God. Down, down, down... to the very bottom of Heaven. In the lowest sub-basement, thousands of feet below the main area of Heaven's control center, buried deep behind pipe and conduit and wire and I-beam, lies the heart of the great supercomputer, Yggdrasil. The diameter of its base is larger than any major city, and it extends to depths unknown. This massive technological wonder is composed of enough transistors that a human mind would melt if it attempted to conceive of the sheer number. The job of this monstrous mechanical brain? Very, very simple. Contain the rules that make the universe the way it is, and enforce them on reality. In order to achieve this, Yggdrasil must be able to monitor an innumerable number of factors at the same time. Of course, that's merely a cursory monitoring. Millions of circuits lay dormant, waiting for the sign that meant a certain event needs a more thorough observation, and probably the attention of one of the goddesses. All of a sudden a LED flashed. A pause, and another flash. Then the little light came on solidly. Within 2.3756 nanoseconds, Yggdrasil had switched its attentions and begun a total investigation of a single event. Another 3.67455 nanoseconds, and the signal had been sent to the main level of Heaven's control. Of course, since Urd was asleep at the main terminal, the soft beeping went unnoticed for about 10 minutes. So much for efficiency. Belldandy's whap on the table, however, was quite efficient at waking Urd up. "Urd! What do you think you're doing?" The goddess of the past yawned, stretched, and blinked a few times. "Sleeping. Why do you ask?" "Because you're supposed to be watching the monitor! It's your shift!" "But Belldandy," Urd whined. "It's so BORING." She crossed her arms. "Besides, nothing ever happens." The beeping chose that moment to get about 70 decibels louder, which drew both the goddesses' attentions. As well as those of other important personae in Heaven... "What's all that racket?" The door to God's office opened, and Lina, Goddess of All creation, walked out, wincing at the noise, Gourry following behind Her. Belldandy yanked the chair out from under Urd (which caused the white-haired goddess to fall ungracefully on her butt) and sat down at the terminal. "We're not sure. Just a moment." A few quick keystrokes later, the goddess of the present turned back to her boss. "It looks like Tokyo 3 is being attacked. There's been a massive number of portals opening into it for the last half an hour. Lina looked thoughtful. "Can you give me more details?" She reached up and rubbed Her temples, adding, "And can you shut that blasted alarm off?" "Sure. Just a moment." The clickety-clack of computer keys continued for a minute or two, and then the blessed silence returned to the room. Belldandy looked up. "It appears that M. Bison is waging an all-out attack on Tokyo-3." Urd blinked. "That's all?" "What do you mean, Urd?" Lina asked. "Me being God and all, I have to know these things." "Sure, sure, but it's not really a big enough deal for Yggdrasil to give an alarm like that." Belldandy spoke up from where she'd been furiously typing. "She's right. That's not the only problem." Sighing, Lina gestured and a Lay-Z-Boy appeared behind Her. "Why are things never that simple?" She muttered as She sat down. "Comes with the job, Lina-sama." Belldandy continued to type madly, then suddenly gasped. "I... I don't believe it." Continuing to rub Her temples, Lina sighed. "What's the bad news, Belldandy?" Belldandy turned around. She looked pale. "There's more than just a Shadowlaw invasion going on here. Gendo Ikari's going to start something called 'Third Impact.'" A short pause enveloped the room for a time. "Er - and what's that?" Belldandy turned back to the terminal. "According to Yggdrasil, it's the beginnings of a program that will ... well, all of the souls of the universe are collected together into one organism and that being is able to reshape the universe as he or she fits." Another pause. "What?" Gourry thoughtfully added. Belldandy sighed. "Everything dies." "Not while I'm God." Lina stood up, and the chair disappeared. "I've let Gendo get away with far too much. It's time I went and talked to him directly." Lina started to walk off as if to teleport, but was immediately stopped by Skuld. "Hold on one second, Lina-sama. We can't have you going down there," the goddess of the future said. Lina crossed Her arms and looked like She was ready to knock Skuld into the next room, but she stood her ground. "We don't know what the effects could be if you were at the center of Third Impact, and we can't take that risk." Lina looked puzzled. "What do you mean, 'risk'? I'm God, dammit! And if I want to go and stop this 'Third Impact', I'll do it!" "Skuld's right, Lina-sama," said Belldandy quietly. "And furthermore..." Belldandy trailed off as she typed some more commands in, "You can't even be involved in Third Impact." "WHAT?" Lina yelled. "It looks like God can't get anywhere near Third Impact once it starts. So if you're at the center when Third Impact starts..." Belldandy stopped speaking for a second and resumed in a very quiet voice. "You might be destroyed." A quizzical look covered God's face (not something you see every day, to be sure.) "How does THAT work? I'm God, after all. What keeps me from being there? And how would I be destroyed?" "Um... er..." Belldandy stammered as he fingers flew over the keys. "I can't tell. Skuld, would you give me a hand with this?" Skuld nodded, sat down, and tapped a few keys. "Here it is," Skuld said as her eyes lit up. "It's a command executed by the Will of a previous God. You can't go against it." "So why can't I go down there? I'm God too! And every bit as Godlike as they were!" Lina struck a semi-dramatic pose as the three goddesses sweatdropped slightly. Belldandy floated over. "It's simple, Lina-sama. God's will is absolute. If God wills something to be done, than it is done. After all, God wouldn't will something be done if He wanted to undo it later." Lina glared at Belldandy, before turning back around. "Oh, this is just perfect. I can't get anywhere near this stupid thing once it starts. I'd better make sure it doesn't start then." Lina once again started to teleport, only to stop when she felt Gourry's hand on her shoulder. "Don't do it, Lina." Lina blinked. Twice. "And why the hell not, Gourry? I can't just let the WORLD end, now, can I?" Lina screamed, stomping Her foot angrily. "Because it's too risky," he replied. "Of COURSE it's risky, Gourry!" Lina said, pulling away. "But when have I ever ran away from a fight just because it's 'risky'?" She started walking out the door. Belldandy spoke up once more, "Ever since it was your responsibility to billions to manage their universe." Lina stopped dead in her tracks, and sighed. "Damn it all to hell, you're right." Lina said, turning to the goddesses and Gourry. "I can't go down there and leave the universe without a God." Lina looked thoughtful for a second. "Now, what about Cloud?" "Well, it seems to be an assumption that Satan wouldn't have any interest in interrupting the end of the world, so he could go to Tokyo-3 during Third Impact." "So he has no reason not to. Just perfect. Cloud can run around and cause the end of the world and I can't stop him." Lina stopped. "Or maybe I can. Skuld, would there be any way I could make sure Cloud can't get anywhere near Tokyo-3?" Skuld looked up, surprised, and scanned her computer screen. "Yes. You could make a small shield so that Cloud can't get into Tokyo-3. But that would take up all your concentration and energy." Skuld looked back at Lina. "You sure you want to do that?" Lina nodded and smiled. "Yeah. That's exactly what I'll do. But first, let's get my forces together. Urd?" Lina looked over at the goddess of the past. "URD!" Urd tumbled from her new chair onto the floor as she was awakened by Lina's yell. "Hai, Lina-sama?" "Get everyone together. You're going to Tokyo-3." * * * * * In a small chamber of black stone, beneath the great fortress of Hell, Cloud sat down to dinner. Spread before the two set places, a fine dinner was spread. And at Cloud's left hand, a row of objects, resting on a setting of black satin. Cloud gazed sullenly across the table to the figure opposite. "Aerith..." he began, "We can be so happy together... You and me, forever, souls intertwining." A shadow of some internal anguish passed over his face. "BUT NO! YOU HAVE TO STAY WITH *HER*!" he exploded. "Lina, Lina, Lina... Her brainwashing is poisoning you, still ripping at you, taking your heart back to her..." He paused, selecting a few long needles from the pallet at his side. He stood, moving around to the bondage cross on the far side of the table. "I'll bring you back to me..." Cloud hissed, as if the thought brought him pleasure. He reached, grasping one of Aerith's wings, the badge of her place in Heaven. "Xelloss showed me the way I can re-educate you, help you come back to me, thank me for everything I do. No matter what I have to do. With fire, with hooks, with razors and acid... By murder, by torture, by war and genocide..." Tears burned down Aerith's cheeks, as Cloud touched the needles to one of her wings, dimpling the feathered flesh. "I'll bring you back to me. No matter what." Aeris braced herself for the imminent pain. "I won't renounce God, Cloud. Not even for you." "Yes, you will, Aerith," Cloud sighed. "Yes, you will. I'll make you love me more than God yet." Cloud tensed, ready to drive the needles home. "Good show, my boy. After a few weeks of demonstration, you've taken to showing Aerith how much you care swimmingly." Cloud jumped, the instruments falling from his fingers as his hands, as always, went to the hilt of his sword. Leaning against the door frame on the far side of the room, Xelloss smiled at the proceedings. Seeing that it was only Xelloss, Cloud turned, hunting for the tools he had dropped. "I thought I said Aerith and I were not to be disturbed, Xelloss," said Cloud as he knelt to pick up his needles. "We want to be alone for a while." "Yes, yes," Xelloss said. "But I came down here to tell you about this wonderful opportunity that's just fallen into our laps. And after hearing your words of devotion, I just know you'll jump at the chance." "But--," Cloud tried to interject. "Ah, ah, ah," Xelloss interrupted, smiling. "After all... 'anything for Aerith,' right?" * * * * * The hell hound sprinted across the basalt plain, black flames licking up from the paw marks left in its wake. The canine beast glanced over its shoulder, searching for the hunter that pursued it. Glimpsing the monster that hunted it, the hell hound surged forward. Moments later, hoping it had outpaced the greater evil, the demon dog ducked into a small canyon, hoping for an opportunity to hide from its pursuer. Slinking between the rocks below, the hell hound found a place full of as much shadow as the flat red skies allowed and hid itself. Seconds ticked by, offering only the distant sounds of crackling flames and the screams of the damned. The hell hound slunk forward from its hiding place, sniffing the air and dripping the occasional acidic spittle on the rocky ground. As the creature stepped forward, the canyon darkened perceptibly. The last thing the demon saw as it looked up was a massive shadow with four glowing eyes, and a long red arm that swiftly reached down, smashing the hell hound into a red pulp. After scooping up the remains of her prey, Asuka lifted herself from her crouching position above the canyon. The Evangelion straightened, cracking open its mouth, displaying a forest of fangs. Raising its prize to its jaws, the EVA snaked out a long red tongue, which coiled about, then dragged the crushed remains of the hell hound into Asuka's maw. Asuka screamed her triumph to Hell's ruddy skies, the blood of her fallen foe running from her jaws, staining the veined and chitinous plates of her red armor. Her exultation was followed by polite clapping. "Bravo, Asuka-chan," praised Xelloss. "An excellent show, wouldn't you say, Cloud?" The Devil looked at Xelloss blankly for a moment before adding his own lackluster applause. "Uh... yes, nice work." The bio-mechanical giant that towered above them melted, red flesh and armor bubbling. The great beast collapsed in a fountain of blood, like a time-lapse movie of a melting candle, flashes of purple organs and white bones appearing through the mess. The whole thing took only a few seconds. Kneeling before the Lord of Hell and the trickster-priest, Asuka puked forth a pool of black blood and vomit before rising to one knee and wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her plugsuit. "My lord..." she said, inclining her head toward Cloud. Xelloss tilted his head to one side and regarded the red-haired EVA pilot. "I say... Asuka-chan, the new look really suits you. The plugsuit was nice, but this really improves on it." Asuka stood and posed for her audience. "Of course! Our master's realm gives power to his favored servants." The plugsuit Asuka had worn was changed, the slick high-tech bodysuit having mutated into a kind of scabby, crusty yet form-fitting armor, covered in serrated ridges and veins. "And not only is it powerful, naturally I look great in it! I'll show them that I'm better than all of them! I'll make them bleed for making me their doll! Commander Ikari, Rei, Shinji, Lina and her loud-mouth bitch... All of them." "That, my dear," said Xelloss, as he slid up and slung an arm over Asuka's shoulder. "Is exactly what we wanted to hear." * * * * * "It begins." Sephiroth stood from the seat he had occupied in his room at the Ultradome. The world was about to end, and Lina was sending forces to stop it. Naturally, the so-called leader of hell, that spiky-haired amnesiac with a head that contained less mass than the object he was named after, would send forces of his own as well, since neither he nor the current false God could interfere directly. The silver-tressed bishounen rubbed his hands together and stretched his legs. This would be fun. Sephiroth teleported away from the Ultradome and found a quiet spot in a barren portion of land to prepare for his journey. "Angel Wing," he softly intoned. The silver and black mecha obligingly appeared in front of him. Sephiroth floated up to the entrance hatch and was about to enter when he was interrupted by a loud scream. "Sephy-kuuuun! Wait for me!" B-ko Daitokuji implored, running toward him in one of her traditional body-suits. "Why did you come here?" Sephiroth flatly asked. B-ko looked a bit hurt. "Hey! I want to be here to make sure Angel Wing works well for you! And remember, I have a lot more experience piloting mecha than you do, so if you have any questions, ask me. After all, I *am* the best pilot there is!" B-ko gave Sephiroth a big smile. "Besides, haven't you noticed?" "...noticed?" B-ko sighed. Some men were SO dense. "Never mind. Where are we going?" Sephiroth got into his pilot's chair and settled in. "To Tokyo-3, the home of the Evangelion. The situation allows me to take an advantage." "You? Don't you mean us?" "Certainly. Perhaps if I am harried by both sides in this conflict, you may assist me by keeping one at bay temporarily while I push onward in claiming what is mine." "Wai! I'll be sure to do my best for you, Sephy-chan!" Sephiroth nodded to B-ko and said, "It's time to depart. This opportunity must not be allowed to slip away while we talk." B-ko smiled again, giving Sephiroth a thumbs-up before the two of them went through a portal to Tokyo-3, side by side in their respective mecha. * * * * * There's always something hidden deep inside a person, something they never want to admit to the world. More often than not, they don't want to admit it to themselves, either; with a concerted effort, the existence of that niggling awareness can be completely ignored, buried away in the depths of the subconscious. When events occur that demonstrate its existence, though, all previous efforts quickly prove worthless. What Jessie was realizing, as she massaged her aching muscles and bandaged her scrapes, was that she really didn't like setting out on her own. She waited nervously in the shadows between the stands, the cheers of all those above her pressing down on her. All her mind could focus on was next week's fight. She'd known that they'd face the Disciples again, eventually, and had dreaded it. Team Rocket had a talent for survival, and to survive, they had to know when they were outclassed. They were outclassed next week. And she was outclassed here. A glance across the ring, towards the other side of the ellipsoid plaza, showed the figure of her opponent. Tifa was cloaked in similar shadows, her dark form visible against the white marble columns behind. She was shadow boxing, her metal plated-boot striking out at an imaginary opponent. Not that the plate was visible at that distance. Jessie had a very good memory of it, though, from watching it be used on James. It had made her wince then; it terrified her, now. She couldn't tag out if she needed to, Tifa had already proven her tenacity and unwillingness to go easy on her opponents, and even with a broken arm, she was still one of the best fighters around... A soft pressure against her ankle drew her attention, and she glanced down at Pikachu. "What do you want?" The question came out perhaps more sharply than she should have let it, considering the need she might have for the pokemon, but she didn't care. "Pika?" it queried, pointing to the heavy-gauge chain behind her. The links fell with a chorus of heavy clanks as Pikachu poked the pile, looking curiously up at its new trainer. She sighed and shook her head. "Thanks, but no." She ignored Pikachu's dour expression -- apparently, looking like it was actually being helpful hadn't been the plan -- and continued. "This just isn't fair! I keep going up against people who have nothing better to do than punch sandbags for fun... don't these people realize some of us have had better ways to spend our lives?" "Pichuuuu..." "Oh, shut up, you little rodent. Joining Team Rocket was a very smart thing to do. We got all sorts of tr..." Jessie paused as a slow, insightful smile spread across her face. Poking her head out past the stands, she looked around, grinning as she found her target. She mouthed a few words, did a bit of pantomime, and waited for a response. Receiving the one she'd hoped for, she smiled and stepped back. Looking across the arena, her gaze fell back upon the shadowy figure across the plaza, and she fought back a giggle. "Prepare for trouble!" she sing-songed. * * * * * "Hey hey all you Ultra fans! Do you know how incredibly unbelievably amazing this next fight is gonna be?" The flat look on Tarou's face spoke adequately to show his disagreement with Sana, but, of course, he went beyond merely adequate. "Do you put a lot of plastic bags over your head or does the brain damage come naturally? You'd have to be messed up in the skull to think that either of these two tramps will put up a decent fight. The only way people will get their money's worth out of this match is if wonderbra and the rocket freak hike up those micro-minis and start giving panty shots. Not that anyone would want to see what they have to show." In the reserved seats, those around Bean started inching away from him. No reason to stay around ground zero if an explosion looked imminent. "You meanie! I think Tifa and Jessie are really pretty, and they can fight great, and they're gonna put on ONE AMAZING SHOW! Hey Lain-chan, who do you think's gonna win?" The quiet brunette pondered the question for a moment, then murmured, "I believe Jessie will win. Tifa's injury will prove a great hindrance. Jessie has already shown her skill against an opponent who knows her weaknesses." Tarou snorted. "One bimbo beat another? Yeah, wow. Some show. And if you consider that 'skill,' computer freak, then whoever gave you that god-awful haircut must've rammed the scissors through your skull a few times. A lobotomy's the only way anyone could look at little missy rocket and see anything but a Vegas showgirl wanna-be. Of course, for THAT, she'd need to gain about fifty IQ points. The wardrobe'd be more stylish, though." Attention focused only on the table in front of her, Lain didn't reply. Her mouth was set in a thin, hard line, her hands lay perfectly flat. Only when Sana threw an arm around her shoulders did she look up. "Don't pay any attention to him, Lain-chan! That was really smart of you to notice! How about I cheer for Tifa and you cheer for Jessie, okay? I bet we can both find all sorts of stuff to say!" As Lain slowly nodded, Sana beamed at her, then turned to the audience. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey all you Ultra fans out there! What'd you think of that first round of fights?" St. Peter's Square was instantly filled with a nearly palpable chorus of roaring cheers. After she'd regained her balance from the force, Sana hopped up from her chair onto the table. She grinned at a cardinal waving a "ROCKET 3:16 SEZ: WE CAPTURED PIKACHU!" sign and continued, "Well, then do you realize that these fights will be even BETTER? Because we're moving towards the VERY BEST! If you thought things were violent before, then JUST YOU WAIT! These fights will DEFINE ULTRA VIOLENCE! You're gonna be blown out of your seats, and yeah, I'm talking to the people at home, too! So strap yourself into your chair and LET'S GET READY FOR SOME ULTRAAAAAAAA VIOOOOOOOLENCE!" Tarou looked at the sheet and groaned. "Oh God, not that damn speech again." Right on cue, every light in the Vatican cut out, save for the haunting yellow illumination dancing across the basilica's facade. The audience waited in the near-total darkness, buzzing excitedly. "PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!" There was a sudden, almost painful burst of illumination as dozens of tiny spotlights, each mounted atop one of the massive columns encircling the plaza, burst into life. As Jessie stepped into the illuminated circle the audience's cheering grew even louder and they gleefully continued, "AND MAKE IT DOUBLE!" White uniform almost too bright too look at under the lights, Jessie led the viewers through the motto, her poses growing more and more theatrical as they proceeded. Sana cheered like a madwoman, her choice of Tifa for the match momentarily forgotten. As the last few lines were being said, Jessie strutted down the ramp, Pikachu trotting alongside. She slid under the ropes, did a dramatic spinning rise, and pointed at the other, shadow-covered entrance ramp just in time to yell, "SURRENDER NOW, OR PREPARE TO FIGHT!" The audience completed the speech, thousands of voices in unison. Tarou muttered, "Sheep." Only a moment passed between Jessie's challenge and when the vocals of "Fuel" started, announcing Tifa's entrance. The straightforward method drew fewer cheers than the markish frenzy inspired by Jessie's, but the sound was only small by comparison. Fragile stonework on the basilica began to wobble and crumble off from all the noise it'd been subjected to over the night, but no one noticed. All eyes were on Tifa as she strode down the ramp, free and easy save for her immobilized arm. As she rolled into the ring and met Jessie's challenging gaze with one of her own, she noticed the redhead's focus had moved onto her arm -- time constraints had only allowed for a sling, and it moved slightly with every step she took. "Don't worry," she assured Jessie. "I can fight." Jessie nodded, a smirk on her face replacing the momentary hesitation. "Then I take it you're not planning to surrender?" Tifa returned the expression. "Not a chance." ][ ULTRARAGE REBOOT 1.0 MATCH #5 ][ JESSIE vs. TIFA LOCKHART ][ FIGHT!! Jessie struck a dramatic pose as the bell rang to start the match. "If I could beat that nasty Shermie girl, you should be no problem at all! Soon, I'll have two belts to show off, and all I need to do is beat- WAH!" She barely had time to get out of the way as a bolt of lightning arced its way down from the canvas ceiling, searing an ugly black mark on the space she'd been standing in a moment earlier. She swallowed hard. Right. Wait until the match was over to do another speech. The thought had scarcely come and gone before she had to dart away from another bolt; while Tifa remained planted firmly in the center of the ring, Jessie ran around the edges, yelping as the electricity made her skin tingle when it got too close for comfort. As a bolt nearly managed to crisp her hair, Jessie threw a dark glance over at Pikachu. "Isn't now about the time you'd rush in and save Ash?" The pokemon shrugged, shooting back an amused look. Jessie glared at it, taking the small break in attacks to move closer to the edge of the ring. Glancing back at Tifa, she saw the fighter was watching her warily; perhaps she needed a break before firing off more magic. "I hope I don't end up hurting your pokemon too much!" Tifa called out. "I hated doing that last time, I really did!" "Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem!" Jessie smirked, her typical arrogance returning. "I won't be needing my poke- ACK!" Ice cracked and split as it impacted the mat; a couple of feet away, Jessie was sprawled inelegantly on her rear, having thrown herself out of harm's way. She scowled. She hated looking foolish. "Do you MIND? I was in the middle of saying something!" Tifa stared blankly back at her. "Err, didn't you say you wouldn't be needing your pokemon?" "I see someone wasn't paying much attention," Jessie noted as she dusted herself off. "And so you wanted me to just let you keep tal... never mind." At the announcers' table, Tarou looked up at the ring, his chin resting in his palm. "And surprise surprise, the biddies spend their time chatting instead of fighting. Just like women. Jessie's too stupid to get out of the way and let her little animals do the work for her like always; too bad they're the only chance she has in the ring." "Hey, they've been putting on a GREAT show!" Sana protested, motioning to the ring. "Lookit all the lightning and the ice and the magic!" "Yay. Miss Silicone's putting on a light show for us. Wake me up when the real fighting starts." "Perhaps Tifa's injury bothers her more than she lets on," Lain speculated. "She's yet to move from her original position. She must be hoping to keep the fight at long range. If Jessie moved in closer, it seems as if that would give her the advantage." Tarou's churlish reply to Lain's observations went ignored by both his partners at the table and by the two figures in the ring. Tifa eyed Jessie curiously. "Okay, gotta ask... what ARE you planning?" Jessie smirked, having seen what she was looking for out of the corner of her eye. "This." Darting over to the side, she just barely missed the ice attack Tifa launched at her. She'd known she'd get targeted as soon as she started moving, and had counted on it. With one smooth motion she snagged the ice gun James tossed to her, spun, and let loose an arctic response to Tifa's attack. Tifa, who was still caught in the motion of her spell, took the attack straight on. She stumbled backwards, worry apparent on her face as she regained her balance. Her gaze on the gun barrel, she noted, "So that's why you don't need your pokemon." Jessie shrugged and smiled, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. "This IS Hardcore, right?" Even as she replied with a cheery, "Right!" Tifa lobbed another ice ball at Jessie; the redhead barely managed to send off an attack of her own to counter. The two ice orbs impacted and shattered, peppering both fighters with cold slivers. Tifa recovered first from the surprise, and whipped her good hand forward, pointing at Jessie. "SLOW!" Lethargy crept up Jessie's arms, filtering into the rest of her body. Her limbs were suddenly unresponsive, and her head felt as if would float away at any moment. The ice gun fell from her hands, landing with a dull clank on the mat. Shrugging helplessly, Tifa advanced on Jessie, her progress unhurried as to not jostle her arm. "Sorry, but I've gotta win this one fast if I want to be any good for the final round." "'Swhat... you think," Jessie drawled, forcing herself to turn; the horrible expectation of having Tifa attack before she could turn around filled her mind. Her stomach flipped over as she nearly fumbled the catch, but she managed to hold on, leather-clad fingers slipping into a firm grasp on the latest weapon James had provided. Amusement filled her as she turned and saw Tifa's reaction to the gun. "Not another one," Tifa groaned as she saw the barrel aimed at her. "What does this one do?" Seeing Tifa was preparing to launch a spell even as she asked the question, Jessie had already moved to pull the trigger. "This," she cheerfully replied, although the spell's effect made her sound more bored than confident. Tifa threw herself to one side, hoping to avoid a projectile sized similarly to the ice chunk; therefore, she was taken entirely by surprise when a net completely surrounded her. The brunette toppled over, twisting as she fell as to take the blow on her good shoulder. No matter how she pushed and turned, the ropes wouldn't let up the hold they had on her. Jessie smiled, exchanged her gun for another, and began advancing on Tifa; with each step she took, the spell's effect began to weaken, and her pace increased. Looking down at Tifa's immobilized form, she cheerfully half-sang, half-giggled, "Anything you can do, I can do better!" She cocked her head to one side and continued, "I HAVE to ask... why didn't you just use one of your little magic attacks instead of sneaking up on me?" Pulling one arm free of the ropes, Tifa replied, "I figured I needed to conserve energy for the last fight. And *I* have to ask... what's this one do?" "Flamethrower." "Oh, GREAT." Increasing her struggles, Tifa managed to free the upper half of her body by the time Jessie shouldered the weapon. Not that that looked to do her much good. Jessie smiled, aimed at the fighter five feet away, and pulled the trigger. A ten foot-long column of flames blazed directly towards Tifa, toasting her to a crisp and giving Jessie her claim to victory for herself, Team Rocket, herself, CHAOS, and, of course, herself. Or she would have had it if Tifa hadn't managed to snag her foot with part of the net and yank her off her feet with one solid pull. Instead, the flames shot harmlessly into the air in a pointless but visually exciting display. By the time Jessie had pulled herself back to her feet, Tifa was out of the net and ready to continue the fight. Unfortunately for her, it was a bit hard to continue the match when Jessie promptly turned tail and ran out of the ring. "...Hey!" Tifa protested, staring after her. "What are you doi- AAAAAH!" Echoing what she'd put Jessie through earlier, Tifa was now forced to run around the ring, dodging aerial strikes that Jessie was launching from a bazooka. "How many of those things do you HAVE?!" Not pausing in her firing -- running up into one of the aisles between the seats had presented an excellent sniping point, and the fans around her loved it -- Jessie answered, "We've been around long enough to get PLENTY of weapons... this is just the beginning!" Gritting her teeth, Tifa made the only decision she could, and ran straight into the shells' path. Her arm bumped against her as she ran, sending flashes of agony to every extremity; she murmured a cure spell as she ran, but knew that without having the bone set, the pain would soon return. Jessie's eyes got progressively wider as Tifa approached; her weapon was quickly proving its uselessness at close range. She whipped out the ice gun, but was forced to move higher and higher up the stairs as Tifa approached, as the brunette's quick speed prevented her from getting a solid lock. Behind the duo, Pikachu scampered up the stairs; curiosity had apparently gotten the better of the electric mouse. By pure luck, Jessie managed not to fall off the edge of the stairs as she backed up. As soon as one booted heel dropped off the rim, she threw her weight forward, arms and gun pinwheeling as she strove to keep her balance. Finally managing to find a spot to stand on, where two of the metal barriers around the seats met, she took quick aim at Tifa - who was standing right across the aisle. "Good fight," Tifa panted. "Thanks," Jessie replied, breath coming quickly as well. Both moved to attack. Tifa had to raise her arm. Jessie only had to pull a trigger. The ice struck Tifa right in the gut, doubling her over. Finely-honed instincts made her instantly reach out with her right hand as she fell, and she snagged the metal bars upon which she'd been standing. Her legs dangled helplessly into the space under the grandstand, her arm was too tired from the fight to pull herself up, the fatigue from earlier was catching up with her... Referees had run up the ramp, ready to help her up, but Tifa's gaze was only on Jessie, who was watching her dangle with an equal mix of expectation, delight, and uneasiness. It was an odd expression. She waited one last moment, hoping a miracle would present itself. It didn't. Tifa sighed, and muttered, "I yie-" There was a sudden blast of air, and Jessie stumbled forward, a look of bewilderment on her face. Without even thinking beyond the realization of an opening, Tifa screamed out "BOLT THREE!" The arm in her sling was raised, and she screamed with pain -- but it was nothing compared with the howl of agony Jessie let out as the energy coursed through her body. Jessie twitched once, then fell over the edge. A second later, there was a muffled thump on the paving stones below; the sound seemed to echo across the arena, challenged only by a panicked yell crying Jessie's name. The referees rushed up and peered over the edge; after a second, one nodded, and Tifa was hoisted back up to safety. "You win," one curtly informed her as he called into his walkie-talkie for a medtech. Dazed from the match, Tifa tried to make sense of the last few seconds, to little avail. That is, until she heard some very unexpected words. "PIDGEOTTO, RETURN!" She spun to face the voice, utterly confused. Ash Ketchum stood in the next aisle over, waving cheerily at her. "You're WELLLLLLLCOME!" he hollered. A pallor cast itself across Tifa's face as the events fell into place. Why Jessie had been blown off balance. How she'd earned her win. As the realization of what had happened filtered through the audience, a chorus of boos started up; they were directed at Ash, but Tifa couldn't help but feel as if she'd earned every one herself. She looked over the edge of the stairs; the medtechs were working away on their patient, helped little by James' frantic worrying. Bean jogged up the steps to her, placing a hand lightly on her good shoulder. "C'mon, Teef. The fight's over." "Y- yeah," she murmured, casting one last glance both at Jessie and at Ash. The former was still motionless; the latter was blinking in surprise at the audience. Wordlessly, she walked slowly down the ramp, Bean at her side. "Now THAT was a way to end a fight," Tarou smirked. "And rocket bitch got just what she deserved. Now, it's time for... will all of you just SHUT THE HELL UP?" The audience paid no mind to Tarou's request, and instead continued booing Ash. The preteen had trotted down to ground level by then, and looked utterly flummoxed by their reaction. He saw Pikachu scampering down and grinned. "Heyyyy Pikachu! Isn't it great? Team Rocket lost!" A look of utter betrayal was on the pokemon's face. Slowly shaking its head, it cried out, then darted under the stands towards the edge of the arena. It didn't take Ash long to realize where Pikachu was running to. Or who. A dark, hostile expression appeared, helped little by the yells surrounding him. Ignoring the Pope's yells that he was going straight to hell, Ash stalked off, mouth a thin line. "Um," Lain quietly said, staring at the ring. "That was quite a slobberknocker. Is that how you say it?" "What? Uh, yeah, Lain-chan, it sure is!" Sana smiled at the other girl. "Sorry Jessie didn't win, but she and Tifa sure showed us some WAI WAI ULTRAVIOLENCE! And so here's what the rest of the tournament looks like! The last two fights should BLOW YOUR FREAKING MINDS, PEOPLE! WAAAAAAAIII!" _Shermie____ | |---_Jessie_____ _Jessie_____| | | _Marlo______ |---_Tifa_______ | | | |---_Tifa_______| | _Tifa_______| | | | _Mr._Satan__ |---___???______ | | |---_Mr._Satan__ | _Morrigan___| | | | | _Akane______ |---___???______| | | |---_Shingo_____| _Shingo_____| "Jessie and Tifa both may be seriously injured," Lain monotoned after the status screen flickered back to black. "Well, look who's catching up!" Tarou snickered. "Oh no, did someone get an owie in the ring? In the real world, people get hurt when they fight... not to say either of those bimbos knows how to defend themselves. But I guess the shows they let you watch in the home for 'Special Children' don't show anyone getting hurt, huh? Bet they talk the same idiotic way as you, though." As before, Lain remained motionless.... save for her left index finger. She pressed a switch that lay almost flush with the table, and the Vatican UltraTron sparked to life, courtesy of the pirating equipment Jack had hammered into shape earlier. Appropriately enough, Jack's visage was the one to grace the massive screen's face. Tarou snarled up at him. "Get the hell off my screen, Lysi-" Clipping off the end of his own name, Jack -- who was now obviously appearing in a previously taped speech -- smiled. "So, Tarou. How's your night been going?" "I SAID, get the hell off my-" "Yeah, that's great! I'm always happy to see you having a good time, Tarou. We used to be such good friends, remember?" "I remember that you're full of sh-" "Those were the days, huh?" Jack-on-tape sighed dramatically and shook his head. "But now... you've lost your edge, Tarou. You just complain, and yell, and you don't see anything fun about Ultra." "Will someone please find a way to cut the video fee-" "And you try to get everyone so scared of you that they piss their pants when you come down the hall. But Tarou... you shouldn't be doing that. You really shouldn't." "And why NOT?" Tarou muttered, fully aware he was talking to a video, but still compelled to raise the challenge. "Because someone with your first name really shouldn't try to pass themselves off as a big tough fighter, Tarou." Tarou paled. He wouldn't. "Or should I say..." Dammit. "Pantyhose." Jack grinned like a madman, his expression a stark contrast to the red-eyed fury that was literally growling up at him. "Aww, don't be mad, Pantyhose. Sharing little secrets like this is what ties the world together. Just think, people tuning in every week, knowing that special little slice of your life... Almost brings a tear to my eye, it really does." "JACK. DIES. NOW." Tarou twitched, and withdrew his fist from the underside of the table. He looked around for something else to punch, trying desperately to ignore the raucous laughter of the audience. That Sana brat looked awfully tempting... except she had just jumped onto the table. And grabbed a microphone. And grabbed a keyboard... so she could RAP. AGAIN. ARGH. o/~ Better look out, here comes Pan-Pan-PANTY! Not silk, not cot-ton, nuthin' so SCANTY! He feels so bad that he hides his NAME! His parents were cruel, such terrible SHAME! o/~ Tarou struggled to reach the rapping child star, only to have some of Nabiki's workers hold him back. It took ten of them. o/~ If he hears it, he's pissed, ready to FIGHT! He doesn't play nice, now that ain't RIGHT! PANTY! HOSE! Pantyhose is his name and he's such a SIGHT! A little bit of bark, but a whole lotta BITE! MAKE SURE YOU GET IT RIGHT! o/~ "I liked your song, Sana-chan." "Thanks, Lain-chan!" "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" Tarou howled, breaking free of the workers' hold. He grabbed towards the two girls, but his target wasn't them; rather, he grabbed the glass of water Lain had and dumped it over his head. Boom, instant Jusenkyou minotaur monster with a very strong desire to wear Jack Lysias' pancreas as a hat. Tarou flew off, his inhuman howls echoing throughout the Vatican. They were just barely audible above the roaring laughter of the crowd, their shock just a few minutes ago long-forgotten. * * * * * Hiroshi blinked as he returned to his seat with more snacks: super mega popcorn tub for him, grape-flavored EVA Unit 00 popsicle for Rei. He hadn't even known they'd made those, but he thought she'd like it. Sure, everyone was laughing -- he supposed he'd missed something after the fight -- but that didn't strike him as odd. Now, Rei vanishing into thin air, that he found odd. He peered around, and managed to catch sight of her distinctive hair color just as she turned the corner around one of the grandstands, heading towards the exit. A cell phone was clasped to her ear and her st