Spotlights sweep the sky.  Helicopters circle like vultures.

     The structure is huge.  Not astronomically huge.. just huge.  30,000 
people contained under one roof kind of huge, occupying a huge expanse of 
land just outside of Tokyo.  If it could have fit everybody from Tokyo, they 
would be there; the rest have to make do watching the action on cable.

     Because it's been a long time coming, construction having started by a 
mandate from the heavens shortly after the spectacle known as Magical 
Troubleshooting Crossover Fighting Tournament Beta.  And now, it is ready for  
its finest hour.

     One year to the day after its first broadcast, ULTRA was ready for the 
climax of the fifth season of brawling action.  Neither rain nor sleet nor 
snow will keep the show from going on... not even the raging typhoon just off 
the shores of Tokyo Bay.  A little thing like the storm of ages was not going 
to stop this juggernaut.

     But it was that very storm, the same one that started as a light drizzle 
a week ago and had built slowly into the monster waiting to leap on the 
unsuspecting city, that foretold disaster.  It hung thick in the air, a 
collective anticipation of something grand and something dangerous.  The same 
thickness hung over New York City weeks ago, he knew; he was there when the 
disaster that started at Madison Square Garden spread and threatened all of 
creation.  He was there because he was in the crowd.

     Something had compelled him to drop his hopefully soon to be lucrative 
Yogurt on a Stick cart and head right to the Garden.  That same feeling 
compelled him to drop his entire savings from the emerging 'Sheep-Dog' 
industry into a plane ticket to Tokyo, and a ringside seat for the big event 
at the UltraDome.

     The rain got in through his cheap raincoat, soaking down his best 
flower-print shirt.  He was cold, wet, and exhausted; but still he let 
himself be reeled in, hoping for warmth and a good seat to rest in once he 
got into the building with the other fans.  Something was going to happen 
tonight, something he wanted to see for himself.

     But the man formerly known as God had no idea what, when, how or why.  
He'd find out with the rest of us.  Because like the rest of us, he was 
mortal, and his fate hung in this balance as well...

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

     Rain cascaded down the glass of Nabiki's bedroom window, but she wasn't 
worried.  The weatherman from TV Tokyo headquarters told her nothing could 
clutter the satellite signal from UltraRage Epsilon; they were using top of 
the line equipment, digital feeds so thick you couldn't cut them with a 
Masamune.  Everything would be fine.

     Normally, she kept her business to business hours.  Tonight was the 
exception to every rule, however, as she browsed the preliminary figures 
streaming into her iPaq from TV Tokyo's password-protected website.  The 
buyrate had stomped all her competition into the ground... MONTHS ago, from 
the preorders alone.  The final count of PPV orders was phenomenal, and given 
the decay rate of the encore presentation, she stood to rake in more money 
with this one event than the ticket money of season five combined.

     She had to allow herself a laugh.  It was absolutely fantastic.  She'd 
gone out of her way to book a card that gave advantage to all her chosen 
ones, and they bought it anyway.  It didn't matter in the end if the viewers 
liked her, they would eat up Ultra with a spoon even if it was two hours of 
live cat juggling.  She could put ANY dreck on the screen and the mindless 
sheep would buy it!

     Especially with tonight being Ultra's 'big anniversary'.  The morons 
thought this meant it would be something huge, something big... and 
admittedly Lina's addition of a match was going to be big.  Heaven vs. Hell 
drew numbers of biblical proportion.  But everything else was pure hype 
machine action, and it tickled Nabiki pink that it had worked.

     Shutting down her iPaq to conserve batteries, she got up and smoothed 
out her dress.  She was ready to go to the event, even if she'd arrive a 
little late; it didn't matter, since the show practically ran itself.

     A gentle knocking sounded at the door

     "Nabiki?" Kasumi called out.  "Akane and Ranma have headed to the 
UltraDome already.  Are you leaving now?"

     "Just on my way out, sis," Nabiki said, opening the door, all smiles and 
grace.  "Can't miss the big night, can I?"

     "It's good to see you enthusiastic about doing a good job, Nabiki."

     "Job schmob.  Have you seen the numbers?" Nabiki asked.  "I'm pulling in 
more money than... than the show ever did with you at the helm.  I'm making 
moolah, greenbacks, cheese, what have you.  After this, hell, I could buy my 
own condo.  Buy my own HOUSE here in Tokyo!"

     But her sister didn't seem happy with her success.  Kasumi looked down 
slightly.  "Nabiki... you still don't understand.  Ultra isn't about money.  
I didn't care about the money."

     "You were God, sis.  You didn't HAVE to care about money."

     "You're right.  I didn't.  I had to care about people," her elder sister 
said.  "Through Ultra, people could find themselves, and could find each 
other.  They could work out their problems and discover new worlds, new ways 
to live that they had never envisioned before."

     Nabiki laughed.  "Who are you, Ernest Hemmingway?  Tyler Durden?  It's 
fighting for dollars, there's nothing noble or good about it.  Except that 
it's good for me."

     "I wish you could understand," Kasumi said, quietly mournful.  "Jack was 
just starting to understand this.  But on the eve of Jack's revelation, you 
took Ultra away from him.  It's a shame..."

     Nabiki raised her Romulan-esque eyebrow.  "You dissing me, sis?  You got 
a problem with me?"

     "No, Nabiki.  I feel sorry for you.  I wanted you to understand, before 
I... I know you'll come to see this eventually, just as he did--"

     "Yeah yeah, touchy feely crap," Nabiki accused, brushing past her 
sister.  "I've got a show to run.  Excuse me." 

     The eldest Tendo sister stood in that doorway for a few moments more.  
This wasn't the way she wanted it.  There was so much unfinished business to 
take care of, and no time to take care of it.  It felt wrong somehow, but 
there was nothing left for her to do to stop the wheels from turning, to stop 
the storm that was brewing...

     A voice behind her cleared its throat.

     "Is it time?" Kasumi asked.

     "It's time," the Metatron said.  "Let's go. ...you sure you don't even 
want to say goodbye to him?"

     "...it's better this way.  I hope it's better this way."

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

     Snare drums rolled.  The brass band played.  The clink of metal and the 
zipping of zippers sounded in the confines of this, the nerve center of 
freedom and liberty.

     The troops were marching off to war.

     The soundtrack was just a CD playing the score to 'Patton', but it did 
lend a certain dramatic ambiance.

     A figure in riding boots and polished, gleaming medals for pie eating 
contests and swim team fourth place wins stepped in front of the American 
flag, which fluttered in the breeze of a portable fan.  He regarded his 
troops, his normally sharp power tie dangling in front of his eyes.  He'd 
moved it from his neck (a symbol of the noose, of the man bringing you down) 
to wearing it like a headband (a symbol of resistance, of taking no 
prisoners).

     The duck on his shoulder was polished to a flawless shine.  It was time 
to address the men (and women), and roll out the war machine.

     "I want you all to know how proud I am of this moment," General 
Controversial Jack spoke.  "We now shall witness the fruit of our labors.  
The defining moment in our long time struggle.  From now on, we, the 
underground champions of truth and justice, shall embark on a crusade against 
the darkness which must be purged.  Some of you may not survive.  Some of you 
may receive pay cuts.  But by GOD, we will storm the shores of the UltraDome, 
confront the Tendo Tyrant in her haven of indecency and greed!"

     The assembled forces did not shout 'Yes, sir!' or 'Of course, sir!' or 
anything ending in sir.  They just sort of shuffled around and mumbled in 
agreement.

     "Now, let's take roll!  Lieutenant Commander 'Gloom and DOOM' Daisuke!"

     "I'm here," Daisuke grumbled.  "Not that I can see anything.  My 
helmet's too big.  And this camouflage is itchy and has some old 
bloodstains..."

     "Government surplus, soldier, it'll have to make do," Jack answered.  
"Team Champion Rocket Elite Republican Guard!"

     "Here, sir!" Jesse declared, snapping off a sharp salute.  She was just 
happy to be called Team Champion Rocket anything, and wear this snazzy camo 
version of her usual 'R' uniform.

     "General Electric!"

     Pikachu gazed sternly from behind his mirrored sunglasses, from under 
his helmet with four silver stars, with the white stick of a lollipop 
sticking out of his mouth.  "Pika," he mumbled in manly acknowledgement.

     "Commander Shingo 'The Mimic' Yabuki!"

     "Here, sir!" Shingo called out.  "And may I say how happy I am that I 
won't have to face--"

     "Lieutenant 'The Death Tigress' Nuku-Nuku!"

     Nuku struck a pose, looking great in green.  "Yosh!  Ready, sir!"

     "Junior Support Officer Private Sakura 'Fanservice' Kusagano!"

     "I want to go change," Sakura complained, trying to tug down the skirt 
of her camo fuku.  "I don't go to school in the jungle, you know!  This is 
crazy!"

     "Crazy like a FOX!" Jack spoke, grinning ear to ear.  "Now that the roll 
is called, it's time to move out.  The show starts in ten minutes, and given 
the weather, it'll take us that long to fly out there on the CHAOSWing!"

     "Uh..." Shingo said, his vessel of hope plowed under by the Exxon oil 
tanker of worry.  "The 'CHAOSWing'?"

     "He bought a Harrier," Daisuke muttered.  "Using my college fund and 
some Pepsi points."

     "Right!  Death Tigress, you'll be piloting it."

     "Okay!" Nuku-Nuku said.  She tapped her headband once, a headset 
microphone springing from it.  "Washuu, I need a flight program for a VTOL 
Harrier jet."

     Her eyes fluttered a moment.

     "Let's go," she said, before heading upstairs.

     "We're all going to die," Daisuke declared.  "We're all going to die and 
my specialized life insurance won't even begin to cover the cost of Jack's 
fiasco..."

     "Cut the chatter, Lieutenant Commander," Jack warned.  "There's no cause 
for alarm.  It didn't cost THAT much!  I just scoped eBay for 'defective 
military equipment'.  Did you know you can buy weapons grade plutonium for a 
buck and a quarter if you don't mind that it has a 99% failure rate?"

     "We're all going to die," Daisuke repeated.

     "This is no time for pessimism!  It's our FINEST HOUR!" Jack spoke.  He 
pointed to the stairway out of Daisuke's basement with his riding crop.  
"Onward, men!  On to glory!  On to victory!  CRY SPORTS-ENTERTAINMENT, AND 
LET SLIP THE DUCKS OF CHAOS!"

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

     The nail file scraped lightly back and forth, as the stretch limousine 
completed final approach.  It was the little details, Nabiki mused.  The 
little details of elegance that made her so fit for her public role.

     Although she did wish 'Pantyhose' Tarou had at least showered before 
hopping in the limo.  He was stinking up what should have been her moment of 
triumph.  And the hyperactive little girl bouncing up and down on the limo 
seat didn't help matters; it was a bad idea to have the wet bar pre-stocked 
with soda pop, in hindsight.

     "I'm getting extra pay for this, right?" Tarou asked.  "Hiroshi may piss 
me off, but it's better than working with... you know..."

     "OHBOYOHBOYOHBOY!!!" Sana-chan vibrated.  "I'm gonna be back in Ultra!  
Thank you Doctor for clearing me to go back to work!  I'm so happy I might 
just--"

     Tarou intercepted the little rap-sampler module before it could be used.  
"Please.  Please, just don't.  For the love of god..."

     "Both of you need to be on your best behavior," Nabiki warned.  "You are 
NOT going to embarrass me out there.  I also expect you to hurry inside and 
get to your desk, we're only a few minutes away from showtime.  I'll be at 
the sound board backstage directing the show if needed... I expect CHAOS will 
pull some ridiculous stunt, since I'm deliberately making life hard for them 
tonight."

     "Probably that weird-ass 'game of solitaire' thing Jack did once," Tarou 
scoffed.  "Jack couldn't organize a riot.  He couldn't find his ass with own 
two hands.  He--"

     The rap-sampler was grabbed from Tarou's hand.  "Couldn't find his ass 
with his own two hands!" Sana rapped.  "*o/~ Couldn't find his ass with his 
own two hands! o/~*" the module spat back.

     Tarou got out of the limo in a hurry.

     It seemed the whole crowd had managed to squeeze into the dome; the 
parking lot was full of cars, not people.  Nobody wanted to miss the start of 
the show, after all.  All the better for Nabiki, who didn't feel like 
mingling with the fans while trying to get in the door.  She opened a black 
umbrella, and strolled herself on over to the dome along with her 
compatriots.  There was plenty of time left to--

     --to walk back to the limo.

     Wait a minute.

     She turned around and resumed walking to the dome...

     ...arriving back at the curb.

     "Something," she spoke, "Is amiss."

     "Something is amiss!" Sana rapped.  "*o/~ Something is amiss--"

     Tarou snatched the toy out of Sana's hands, crushed it, and hurled it 
towards the Dome with unimaginable force.  "That is MORE than enough of--"

     The rap module then hit him in the back of the head hard enough to make 
him stumble.  Nabiki watched the whole thing -- how the toy flew towards the 
dome, vanished with a slight rippling effect and reappeared heading the other 
way...

     As if it were an opening note on the orchestra of failure, she began to 
hear the fat lady singing.  Specifically, singing 'Ride of the Valkyries.'

     Coming through the rain with the high-turbine whine of twin jet engines 
and a high-powered stereo blasting Wagnerian opera, a canary yellow Harrier 
parted the waters as it hovered overhead.  It floated across the parking lot, 
coming to a rest on top of the UltraDome... where the rippling effect did NOT 
reject it.

     It meant only one thing.

     "Tarou?" Nabiki called, not taking her eyes off the roof of the dome.

     "Yeah, Miss Tendo?"

     "Call the police, please.  Our pay-per-view just got hijacked by CHAOS."

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

            { M A G I C A L  T R O U B L E S H O O T I N G }
            {    C R O S S O V E R    F I G H T I N G      }
            {             F E D E R A T I O N              }
            {                .-----------.                 }
            {                | U-L-T-R-A |                 }
            {                `-----------'                 }
            {          http://www.mtcffultra.com           }

            |  | |    - +-- ---. ._   
            |  | |      |   | /  | \  
            |__/  ___   |   | \  | _\ 
                            ._	
                 UltraRage  | \   
                   EPSILON  | _\  
                            +---   
                            | -.
                            \__|                   _   
                            +--- +--. .--- | |    /   |\ |
                            | -- +--/  \   | |   |  | | \|
                            +--- |    __\  |  __   _/ |  \
 
                             Episode 52
                        Written by Stefan Gagne
   With tag team assist Jesse Ellman, Kristen Smirnov and Damien Phoenix

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

     Amidst the overwhelming waves of noise generated the fans, the sound of 
a jet landing on the roof was like a muted whisper.  Hiroshi glanced upward, 
hoping that the plan was going according to, well, plan...

     Pyro exploded, ice blue glitter fell from the ceiling, the graphics 
department exhausted a few thousand dollars just making the ULTRA logo look 
damn cool on the big screen, and the show was ready to begin.  The dome was 
packed to capacity and beyond, thanks to the additional tier of seating 
Nabiki had added, as well as the private boxes; in one of them, the Pope sat 
in quiet contemplation with his box of popcorn and big foam middle finger 
sign.  Time had ticked away until this, the moment where all things began, or 
at least when the show began, which was going to end up being all things 
anyway.

     The boy standing in the center of the ring wasn't supposed to be here.  
He had been given the night off, now that Sana was back, but he had a working 
agreement with the This Old Dojo operations staff to let him in to the 
building anyway... and as long as Jack kept up his end of the plan, he 
wouldn't get in trouble.  Much trouble, at least...

     No.  Don't focus on that; this is IT.  This is the time he had been 
waiting months for.  Closing his eyes, letting the crowd's excitement warm 
him and envelop him, Hiroshi prepared those words that would get the party 
started...

     "HELLLOOO, everybody!" he called out.  "ARE YOU READY FOR SOME--" 

     "ULTRAVIOLENCE!!!" the fans roared, nearly knocked him off his feet.

     "...we oughtta be paying you guys to do my job," Hiroshi joked, getting 
a good sized chuckle out of the crowd for his weak joke.  "Now, you may be 
wondering why I'm standing out here wearing... very faded army fatigues.  The 
answer to that question is en route right now--"

     A tiny red dot flicked on the mat in front of him.  The laser pen 
signal.  They were here!

     "Ladies and gentlemen," Hiroshi announced, "We're deviating from the 
program a little!  Please put your hands together for... THE CHAOS ARMY!"

     A little Metallica (likely 'Don't Tread on Me', 'One' or some other 
military groove tune) cued up, as the CHAOS logo dominated the video wall.  
Yellow spotlights flicked on, highlighting each member of CHAOS as they 
rappelled down into the ring on sturdy neon ropes.  (Six men in the front row 
had to be taken to first aid for nosebleeds as Sakura descended.)  This send 
the audience into nearly as wild of a reaction as the show's opening did; 
Jack was definitely popular with the crowd, and speculation had been running 
wild for weeks over what he had planned for tonight... now they knew.

     First man down was Controversial Jack, who took the microphone Hiroshi 
offered him.  "Ladies and gentlemen, do not attempt to adjust your set!" Jack 
warned.  "For the next two and a half hours, WE control the vertical!  WE 
control the horizontal!  The time for kid games with Beek's chosen ones are 
over; this time, it's WAR.  You may be wondering why we're able to make such 
a grandiose and hideously expensive entrance without being thrown out of the 
building... it just so happens we got a friend of a friend to put a 
dimensional warp bubble around the UltraDome.  Nabiki and Tarou will NOT be 
joining us this evening!  From this point on, you can leave the building, but 
NOBODY gets in!  So if you guys left the oven on back home, let the house 
burn to the ground, because you do not want to miss this show!"

     "He's been practicing this in front of the mirror every day," Daisuke 
mumbled quietly enough for the crowd not to hear, as he stepped up next to 
his friend.  "Hey, Hiro.  Everything set up?  We're not about to be bum-
rushed by the Security Guys, right?"

     "This Old Dojo's behind us on this one," Hiroshi replied.  "Security, 
control booth, video crew, lighting guys, everybody.  Nabiki gave them all 
pay cuts last week to cover the UltraDome modifications and the union's 
declaring this a sort of inverse-strike."

     "Now that we're here, let's get down to business," Jack declared.  He 
held out his hand expectantly, and Shingo passed him a clipboard.  "You guys 
know that fight card Nabiki had booked?  The one where me and my dope fresh 
homeys are slated to have our asses kicked in totally unfair matchups and all 
her chosen title holders are getting jobbers?"

     Negative sentiment was expressed loudly, in the form of a cheerful 
"Beeky's an Asshole" chant.  (Which was started when Sakura held up a big 
sign reading "Beeky's an Asshole" in true cue card fashion.)

     "Then if you feel as I do, and I believe you do," Jack continued, "What 
do you say we... TOSS the entire card in the trash where it belongs and give 
you guys some REAL FIGHTS?!"

     (In the Vatican's private box, the pontiff nodded in approval.)

     "Let's see what we have, let's see..." Jack started, pacing around the 
ring as he clicked a ballpoint pen and perused the clipboard.  "I think I'll 
keep Ranma's fight.  We had a talk with the boy last week and he's ready for 
it.  But Akane and Marlo... at WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING?  That bush 
league, barely entertaining, steroid pumping, ratings scraping pisspot of a 
show?  I don't THINK so!"

     (Somewhere in America, Vince Russo began to cry.)

     "You see, there's this little TV show I'd like to bring to your 
attention.  It's on Wednesday nights at midnight... maybe some of you have 
heard it... 'NEOFIGHTERS'?"

     A passable cheer came up from the crowd.  Jack nodded in approval, his 
necktie headband bobbing along with his head.

     "We've decided to shift the venue a bit!  Marlo, Akane, get ready to get 
extreme because your dimensional gates have been rerouted!  We've got a crowd 
ready and waiting to receive you at the NeoDome later tonight, and they've 
made sure to prepare you a warm welcome.  Remember, people, NeoFighters every 
Wednesday at midnight -- it's the show Nabiki doesn't want you to see, so 
that must make it good!  Now, what else, what else... who here wants to see a 
little somethin' called 'LOSER LEAVES CREATION'?!"

     "I don't," Daisuke whined, even if he was drowned out by the cheers of 
the crowd.  "Although total obliteration may be preferable to what'll happen 
after tonight, when Nabiki gets her hands on us..."

     "Speaking as someone who used to be 'The Man', I can tell you that when 
The WOMan gives an order, you march!  So that fight stays put at the top of 
the show.  But as for everything else... Morrigan takes on her own PET for 
the belt?  Schneider of the Insufficient Light takes on someone hired to roll 
over and die for him?  SHINGO taking on the wind up toy?  Me and Daisuke in a 
handicap match brawl?  And Disciples of the Void, who had their chance and 
lost, against your favorites and mine: Team Champion Rocket?!"

     "I'm so happy, I could cry!" James wailed, as the audience started up a 
loud 'ROCK-ET! ROCK-ET!' chant.

     "I don't know about you, but I think those matches suck sweaty donkey 
gonads!  So let's just STRIKE them from the record, and I'll see what I can 
come up with for you guys tonight.  Frankly, a chimpanzee could book a better 
show than this!  Since I'm only 4% genetically dissimilar from a monkey, I 
predict more bang for your buck than anything the Tendo regime could've 
cooked up!  I'd say up front who I'm picking, but..."

     Jack winked, and waved a finger in front of his face.

     "...that is a secret."

     (Somewhere in Hell, Xelloss pouted in disapproval.  The mortal was 
glomming his gimmick.  How rude.)

     "Of course, I'm not the official boss of this show anymore," Jack noted.  
"Everything we do tonight could be reversed when Nabiki gets control of the 
show again.  She could strip any new champions of their titles, fire them 
all, or worse.  Which is why I need your cooperation, you as fans, to carry 
this off.  If Nabiki tries to mess with the lasting effects of this show, to 
cheat you guys out of the entertainment you deserve... I propose a black-out 
strike of next week's Ultra!  Don't turn it on, watch those ratings plummet, 
and hit Beek where it hurts -- the WALLET.  When it all boils down, you guys 
dictate this show, not her!  WHO'S WITH ME!?"

     "WE ARE!" the crowd spoke in unison.

     The Controversial One tucked the clipboard under his arm.  "Now, CHAOS 
has to finagle a little biz backstage to set up tonight's spectacle.  I 
hereby leave you in the ever so capable hands of Hiroshi AND Daisuke, the one 
true announce team of Ultra!  Hiro?  The keys to the Corvette are yours.  
Don't wrap it around a tree while I'm out."

     To the screaming adoration of the fans, Jack tossed the microphone to 
Hiroshi -- a changing of the guard, a passing of the torch.  Hiroshi blushed 
nervously and laughed, rubbing a hand behind his head as Jack led his loyal 
gang of misfits up the ramp and to the backstage area.

     "Ahh... err..." Hiroshi started, too flustered to be smooth as butter.  
"We've... got a great show for you tonight, even if I don't know what it is!  
Folks, this is ULTRARAGE EPSILON... but beyond that, this is a turning point 
in Ultra history.  The fifty second episode.  Fifty two weeks, one full year 
of the hottest fighting action ever to grace your television screen!  Man... 
Daisuke, do you even remember what we were doing a year ago?"

     "One year ago to the minute, I remember you throwing up in the men's 
room because you ate too many Olestra potato chips before our first show," 
Daisuke added.

     Hiroshi paled.  "Dai, you didn't HAVE to bring that up--"

     "WORK WITH HIM, HIROSHI!" the crowd screamed.

     "..."

     "Damn, it feels good to be back on the job," Daisuke smiled, buffing his 
nails on his fatigues.

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

     The whole parking lot of the UltraDome was lit up with the swirling red 
and blue lights of police cars.  Every squad car Nabiki could weasel out of 
the police department was here... and they were totally useless.

     Whatever science created the lock-out shield was a little beyond the 
scope of your average flatfoot.  Mostly they sat around scratching their 
heads and wishing they were back at the station, so they could watch the 
show.  Intolerable, simply intolerable.

     Tarou jogged over through the rain, waving his arms to signal Nabiki's 
attention.

     "Word says Jack's taken over the show," Tarou explained.  "He's erased 
most of your fights and he's going to have different title challenges.  And 
if you go back on 'em he wants the crowd to turn off their TVs next week."

     "Oh, PLEASE," Nabiki groaned.  "How childish.  The viewers are sheep!  
They'd tune into the show even if--"

     "Err... Miss Tendo, they seemed to go along with it," Tarou continued.  
"They're behind him all the way.  I don't think you're real popular with 
them.  ...don't give me that icy look, I'm just telling it how it is.  Am I 
still getting paid for tonight?"

     "If you can find a way to get us inside, yes," Nabiki said.  "If not, 
no.  I want my show back, Tarou.  I don't care what strings you have to pull 
or what legs you have to break... make it happen.  Jack is NOT going to get 
away with this."

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

     "I can't believe he's getting away with this," Daisuke said, pulling on 
his headset as he assumed his position behind the desk.  The chair was 
sagging a bit, no doubt from Tarou's bukly weight pressing it down for weeks, 
but it would do.

     "Where there's a controversy, there's a way," Hiroshi said.  He turned 
to face the camera, 1000% smile.  "Folks, it's going to take Jack a few 
minutes to set things up, so I'd like to take this moment to show you 
something I've been working on... for the last two weeks I've been pouring 
through the video archives, picking out highlights, and trying to put a year 
retrospective on Ultra.  With the help of Lain and an Avid video editing 
deck, I'd... I just want to... Dai?  I think I'm gonna cry."

     "Here, sob on my sleeve," Daisuke suggested, holding up his arm.  "Try 
to ignore the stains, it's better for your mental health."

     "I'm very emotional right now," Hiroshi emoted.  "I mean... one year.  
One year of the greatest experiences of my life.  Sure, I was killed a few 
times.  Sure, the world nearly ended once or twice.  But if I had to do it 
all again, I would.  I never dreamed I'd be part of something this huge, this 
important.  So I want the folks at home to know, this tape... I crafted it 
with LOVE.  Daisuke... don't hold back.  You can let it out too."

     "I wanted my paycheck back," Daisuke filled in.  "...and yeah, I kinda 
like this show too.  Okay.  No need to get all fussy about it.  ...Hiro, quit 
that, we're on live television here."

     "Roll the footage, gentlemen... by Lina in heaven let the glorious 
footage roll!" Hiroshi sniffled, while saturating Daisuke's sleeve.

     All eyes turned to the video wall, as the Ultra logo--

     Was replaced by the ShadowNERV logo.

     And was then replaced by Bison's ten foot tall grin of evil doom.

     "Greetings, Ultra fans!" Bison called out, ignoring the catcalls, jeers, 
and popcorn thrown at the screen.  "Am I interrupting anything important?"

     The young announcer nearly exploded.  He stood on his desk, clenching a 
fist and shaking it at the screen, Dan-like tears streaming down his cheeks.  
"BISON!!"

     "Yes, that is my name," Bison replied.  "I'm pleased you remember it.  I 
have to admit, I was impressed with Jack's attitude tonight.  The invasion 
mentality is something I wholeheartedly approve of, in the same way I invade 
your broadcast on my own personal whims.  Like I'm doing now, as a matter of 
fact--"

     "You think you scare us?!" Hiroshi called out.  "HA!  Do I need to 
remind everybody here that you got your ass SPANKED two weeks ago by Mewtwo, 
the Psycho Soldiers and the Hungry Wolves?"

     "...a minor set back," Bison replied, looking annoyed at the insolent 
boy.  "And unpleasant things await those who dared to interfere in my work, 
especially that overgrown freak of nature who calls himself Mewtwo.  I look 
forward to harnessing his power for my own... But I digress!  I have 
something important to show you, and then I'll leave you to your fun.  It's 
been hiding backstage for a few hours now waiting for the big debut.  Thanks 
to your glorious commander Tendo's backstage cameras, you weaklings shall be 
the first to see my toy in action!"

     "Rei?!" Hiroshi gasped.  "Bison, you bastard!  Leave Rei alone!!"

     Bison rolled his eyes.  "No, it's not Rei!  Keep up.  My... well, I 
suppose a picture is worth a thousand words--"

     The video image jumped, before cutting to a scene...

     It was one of the backstage locker rooms, but you wouldn't know from the 
mess.  Lockers were bashed to dented metal bits, the walls had numerous 
holes, and overhead lights had been destroyed.  In the flickering fluorescent 
haze... the fallen forms of Andy Bogard, Mai Shiranui, Sie Kensou and Athena 
Asamiya could be seen.  They were breathing, but that was all they were 
doing...

     Only one figure stood tall.  A well built man with long, blue hair, and 
a red cap.  He turned to look at the camera, adjusted his hat, and slammed 
his fist into the ground.

     "POWER GEYSER!"

     The video feed ceased.

     "Just a small sample, since I know you want to get on with your show," 
Bison reminded as he returned to view.  "You'll see more of my wonderful new 
project next time Sagat enters the ring.  Until then, have an unpleasant 
evening!"

     Darkness filled the Titantron once more.

     "..." Hiroshi responded.

     "We'll be right back after this word from Skittles," Daisuke deadpanned.  
"Skittles.  Taste the rainbow.  Or else, apparently."

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

     The sorcerer and the succubus were nonplussed.

     "Forget it," they both said.

     "So you guys are just gonna walk away from a fight, is that it?" Jack 
asked.  "Just because you don't have your easy opponents set up beforehand 
you don't feel you need to defend your titles with honor?"

     "I said forget it, you spiky haired twit," Darshu snarled.  "I came here 
tonight to do my job, and that's take on Yuffie.  If you think I'll let you 
set me up with some mystery date--"

     "Okay, okay.  I know you're gonna be upset, I was expecting this," Jack 
said.  "Let me say just one word to you, Darshu.  If it doesn't get you 
hooked, you can walk out of here.  Is it a deal?"

     "Since I can't think of anything that would make me go along with your 
ridiculous coup d'etat, fine," Dark Schneider agreed.  "What's the word?"

     Jack told him.

     "I'm in," Darshu agreed.  "I'll be in my dressing room warming up my 
chicks-- warming up for the fight.  Later, Morri."

     Morrigan tapped her foot.  "He may have a weak will, but I am the 
embodiment of strong will.  I get what I want, and what I want is to play 
with my puppy and go home.  Are you going to tell me a magic word and get me 
to comply with your little game as well?"

     "Actually, no.  I was going to remind you of something.  When you first 
got that belt, you claimed you would take on any challengers because you were 
tired of weaklings.  You wanted someone who was capable of, to put it in your 
words, 'taking your belt off'."

     "Yes, those were my words.  Your point?"

     "Nabiki's been 'protecting' you from getting that challenge you seek," 
Jack explained.  "She's kept your title on you by not letting anybody try to 
take it away.  Are you telling me you lied when you said you wanted a strong 
opponent?  That you, the 'embodiment of strong will' are too chicken to live 
up to your own words?"

     "You're playing head games now, Jack," Morrigan recognized.  "It's 
obvious.  Hmmm... actually, I believe I will take up your mystery opponent on 
one condition.  When I beat him into the ground... I get to feed on your 
soul's energy tonight.  I'm quite thirsty, and Nabiki would approve of this 
and promote me even further in reward.  Is it a deal?"

     "I play in the fast lane, girl.  I'll take your bet," Jack replied.  
"Don't think I won't put myself on the line for this show.  You and your 
cronies have no clue what Ultra is -- maybe you'll have an idea by the end of 
the night, or just a ringing headache.  Go get dressed, Morrigan, or 
undressed preferably.  You'll be up right before the main event."

     "Last match of the night in the dome?" Morrigan asked.  "Mmmm... I think 
I like that.  It's a fitting place for one of my strength and grace.  I will 
be ready.  If--"

     "JAAAACK!"

     "Get going," he told Morrigan, before turning around.  "Yeah, Hiro?"

     Hiroshi paused a moment, completely out of breath after the run from the 
desk to ops.  "You... you have to make me a match!  I want a match TONIGHT!"

     "Sorry, Hardcore title's taken.  Better luck next year."

     "No... not that.  I want BISON!" Hiroshi declared, shaking with rage.  
"He... he's doing things to Rei, and his enemies were just wiped out and 
nobody can stop him and... and I want his ass!  I want his ass on a STICK!"

     "...right.  Hiro?  Heart to heart a moment, okay?" Jack suggested, 
leading him off to the side.  "Do you really have that much of a hard on for 
getting killed again?  Knowing Bison has your cloning equipment, so there 
won't be a Hiroshi Mark V.  Or is it VI now?  Or Emacs?"

     "I don't care!  I have to do SOMETHING, Jack!" Hiroshi pleaded.  "He has 
to be stopped!  He's evil!  He's worse than evil, he's... he's EVIL in all 
capital letters!  Make the match!  Make it!"

     "No," Jack refused.  "Kid, listen.  You're not going to achieve anything 
this way.  If--"

     "BUT HE--"

     "Let me finish," Jack warned.  "I'm educating your ignorant ass here.  
If you want to take on an enemy who's stronger than you, you don't rush at 
them screaming and punching.  You get someone ELSE to rush at them screaming 
and punching.  Hiro, what do you think CHAOS is?  This is me getting my 
revenge on Nabiki.  I couldn't do it alone, and neither could any of us; we 
had to team up.  You want Bison down, you need someone who can work with you 
to make it happen.  It's simple logic."

     "Then... then loan me Nuku-Nuku!  She's Omega level!"

     "NO.  No way," Jack said firmly.  "Nuku... no.  I don't 'loan' people, 
for starters.  If you want this done, you gotta do the legwork yourself, 
okay?  CHAOS doesn't have any members who can tangle with Bison.  Look... 
you're a bright kid.  You'll figure out something.  But for now I need you at 
the desk, game face on, and ready to announce the show.  The fans need you."

     "The... fans..." Hiroshi replied.  He screwed his eyes shut and 
swallowed, trying to get prepared mentally.  "Right.  I've got to do the 
show.  This is ULTRA, and it's my dream, and... okay.  I'll think about it, 
Jack."

     "Right.  Now hurry up, we can only hock Skittles for so long before 
people get sick.  I've got some final arrangements to make for Team Rocket's 
challengers -- they're up next, so if you please...?"

     "Okay!  I'm on my way!" Hiroshi announced, smiling as widely as he would 
on camera.  He couldn't lose sight of the show, it was true.  But the idea 
did percolate in the coffee maker of his mind.  He WOULD find a way to free 
Rei... the woman he loved.

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

	"Hiroshi, you look like hell," Daisuke told his freakishly-grinning
friend.

	"Thanks," he replied without moving his mouth too far from its
shirt-eating grin.  Sliding on his headset, Hiroshi then proceeded to stare
blankly ahead, eyes clouded in thought.  Or a sugar overdose.  Or anything,
really, it was hard to tell with him sometimes.

	Ten feet away, a little red light went blink and let the announcers 
know that they were once again in a good portion of the world's living rooms. 
Deciding that Hiroshi wasn't going to stop contemplating his navel, Daisuke
let out a hearty, "Annnnnd we're back!"

	"That's RIGHT!" Hiroshi replied, his attention suddenly back in the 
here and now.  "With RIVALRIES to settle with HISTORIES between them and of
course some ULTRAVIOLENCE!  Let's get this SHOW on the ROAD!"

	"Do you want a drink of water?  Valium?"

	"No thanks, all I want is a tape of this show so I can see myself when 
I started to get a GREAT IDEA!"  Slamming his hands palms-down on the
announcers'  table, Hiroshi asked the audience, "Are you ready for your one
and only Team Champion Rocket?!"

	Thousands of red, white, and black signs popped up throughout the Dome. 
Hiroshi took this as a yes.  "Then let's turn our attention... to the
UltraTron!"

	Daisuke paled.  "They'd better not try to parachute off it.  No matter
what Jack said, I don't think those were special combat moths that came with
the army surplus supplies."

	As a flat LCD panel flickered to life below Hiroshi's hands, the
pale-haired announcer grinned.  "Nah, I have something else planned.  This
is a clip I found going through the archives."

	Daisuke started to ask him which clip would soon be gracing the
slack-jawed fans' eyes, but decided to hold off after watching Hiroshi play
with the buttons and gizmos in the fine tradition of males everywhere.  The
screen turned on, the sound came up, and Hiroshi missed the starting point
of his clip.

	"Whoops," Hiroshi laughed as he rubbed a hand behind his head.  "It'll
start in a second, folks."

	"You didn't read the manual, did you?"  Daisuke rolled his eyes.  "You
never read the manual."

	Any response Hiroshi might have had was cut short as the lights died,
right on cue (This Old Dojo reads the manuals).  A staccato snare drum beat
echoed throughout the UltraDome, then a fife overlaid it and swelled to a
crescendo.  In short order, the audience was listening to the West Point
Marching Band's cover of Double Trouble.

	Hiroshi looked up at the Ultratron and grinned.  Going into full
showmanship mode, he boomed into his mic, "Four seasons ago, Team Rocket
made their debut at UltraRage Alpha as MYSTERIOUS PERSONS.  Now they're the
fan favorites, reigning champions, and... I did not know that you could buy
an inflatable Humvee."

	Said Humvee plowed its way down one of the aisles, Pikachu on its roof
and Mr. Duck-smoking-a-cigar icons on its sides.  It picked up speed as it
continued down the aisle, coming to a spectacular 540-degree spinning stop
at the bottom.  The audience roared.  Hiroshi marked out.  The Spanish
Announcers' table ended up under its tires.

	"I think I'm going to be sick," Jessie moaned as she stumbled out.

	"Jack took out the brakes," James explained as he dropped to the ground
and hugged it.

	"And Team Rocket makes a spectacular entrance!"  Daisuke coughed into
the back of his hand, turned off his microphone, and called over to them,
"Guys!  The speech!"

	They nodded weakly and climbed on top of the Humvee.  "Prepare for
trouble!" Jessie began, raising one camouflage-clad arm.

	"And make it double!" James finished, forcing a smile on his face
despite knowing that this color scheme looked simply AWFUL with his hair.

	The audience's cheers grew even louder, a faceless, voiceless, communal
noise that nearly deafened anyone foolish to be in attendance without a
quality pair of earplugs.  It served to remind Team Rocket what was the True
Meaning Of Ultra was: an ego boost unlike any other.

	"To bring evil bookers humiliation!"

	"To spread our name throughout all nations!"

	"To praise the forces of controversy!"

	"To show not even an ounce of mercy!"

	"Jessie!"

	"James!"

	"Team Rocket has you in our sights!"

	"And the Second Amendment says we can fight!"

	"Pika!"

	"That's right."

	The audience buzzed at the voice as Hiroshi grabbed his mic.  Motioning
up towards a pitch-black ramp, he announced, "And now the MYSTERIOUS PERSONS
for this match... here to finish what was started all those months ago..."

	Team Rocket climbed down off the Humvee and strode into the ring,
turning once they'd hit the middle.  They looked up into the darkness,
absolute confidence on their faces.

	The lights came on.

	"TEAM POKEMON!"

	Ash, Misty, and Meowth looked confidently down at Team Rocket, arms
folded, legs planted, and far too many teeth showing.  "Surrender now," Ash
suggested.  "We're prepared to fight."

	No sooner had he made his boast than Ash was down the ramp, through the
ropes, and twisting his cap around like a good little commercial icon. 
Misty and Meowth trailed close behind as James and Pikachu cleared the ring,
and one razor-haired redhead and spikey-headed brunette were left glaring at
each other.

	"And Ash is ready to get this match off to a quick start!" Hiroshi
helpfully said for anyone who hadn't quite caught that on their own.  "He's
looking to take down Team Rocket for good this time!"

	"That's right," Daisuke expanded.  "This is the culmination of a 
rivalry that's been brewing for four seasons; before that, even.  The action 
between these two teams has heated up over the last eight weeks, and it's 
finally boiled over tonight!"

	"And YOU get to watch the fight to determine who the true Pokemon
masters are, folks!"

	Daisuke slipped off his headset.  "Think they bought it?"

	"Yeah, I think so."

	"Good," Daisuke muttered as the ref went to begin the fight.  "They're
not going into this fresh; they need a gimmee match."

	The bell rang.

][ ULTRARAGE EPSILON MATCH #1 : LAMBDA TITLE DEFENSE	
][ TEAM ROCKET vs. TEAM POKEMON
][ Special Guest Booker : Kristen Smirnov
][ FIGHT!

	With fighters in Ultra coming from just about every fighting style
imaginable, it can be a nice change to go up against someone whose moves are
familiar.  The opening moves, the strategies followed... and, of course, the
infallible knowledge that they'll cheat given half a chance.

	"SQUIRTLE, I CHOOSE YOU!"

	A smirk crossed Jessie's face.  "Such an obvious opening, Ash.  Of
course, I suppose not everyone can be as great a fighter as Team
RockWAHHHHH!"

	"Fight, don't talk," Ash suggested as Squirtle's water blast died down.

	Jessie scowled up at Ash from where she'd dropped to avoid the attack. 
"You never did have any sense of dramatic buildup.  I, however, know to give
the people what they want... I choose you, Pikachu!"

	A quick scramble under the ropes put Pikachu face-to-face with 
Squirtle, and the two former allies eyed each other warily.  

	"Will Pikachu stand up against Ash's pokemon?  What will happen when
Pikachu's loyalties are put to the test? WHAT WILL PIKACHU DO?  ...
apparently, Pikachu will freeze up and let Squirtle wash him right out of
the ring."  Hiroshi sighed.  "Should've expected that.  Anyways, Jessie's
moving right along and bringing in Persian!"

	One Slash attack from the pokemon in question and Squirtle was on the
defensive, dodging and weaving and using every evasive maneuver it had. 
Unfortunately, Squirtle was a turtle, and thus didn't have much success with
this strategy.

	A flick of the wrist recalled Squirtle, and Ash scowled at Jessie as he
backed towards the ropes, where Meowth was waiting.  "I'll be right back."

	"I can hardly wait," Jessie laughed as Ash tagged out, reaching down to
give Persian an approving pat.  "You've certainly become easy to intimidate,
Ash!  Of course, I can't blame you for showing the proper response to the
Team Champion Rocket Elite Republican Guard!"  Smiling for the audience and
photographers, Jessie posed so the overhead lights would glint off the
medals she'd attached to her uniform (accessories are everything!).

	This time, she didn't avoid the water blast to her head.

	Jessie sputtered indignantly as she pawed her hair away from her face
and just [glared] at Misty.  "You messed up my HAIR!"

	The younger fighter let out a satisfied sigh.  "You have no idea how
long I've wanted to do that.  Anyways, let's get going!  Starmie, hit
Persian with another Water Gun!"

	"Persian, Fury Slice that thing into ribbons for what it did to me!"

	The two pokemon darted towards each other, Jessie and Misty yelling out
orders as quickly as the two animals could process them.  Off to the sides,
James cheered Jessie on, Pikachu looked despondently at the proceedings in
the ring, and Meowth and Ash were huddled, discussing strategy.

	"Strategy?"

	"Yeah, strategy!  Dat's what dis is, just strategy!"  Meowth grinned. 
"Has Meowth ever let you two down?"

	"You're right, Meowth; I know I can trust you!"  Ash turned to the ring
and yelled, "Misty, I'm ready!"

	She nodded and ran to the ropes, withdrawing Starmie as she rolled off
the apron.  Ash slid into the ring and eyed Jessie, fingering a pokeball. 
"Let's finish this; you don't deserve your belts a minute more!  Pidgeotto,
I choose you!"

	Persian and Jessie looked up in unison to see the bird pokemon appear,
cawing as it flapped its wings upon release from its pokeball.  "Screech
Attack, Persi-" 

	"QUICK ATTACK!"

	The audience gasped as Pigeotto darted down not at Persian, but right 
at Jessie.  It plowed right under her, knocking her legs to the side and
sending her crashing to the mat.  James let out a yell of protest, but Ash
simply smirked.  "You guys haven't been acting like real pokemon trainers,
so you deserve to be treated like it!"

	Wobbling unsteadily to her feet, Jessie winced as she straightened. 
Another divebomb from Pidgeotto sent her to the ropes, which she used to
maintain her standing position.

	"It looks like Jessie's leg injury from Reboot might be coming back to
bug her," Daisuke mused worriedly.  "She wasn't expecting that attack, and
she landed right on it."  He glared up at Ash and added, "I'd imagine that's
exactly what Ash's intent was."

	"And yes, folks, that is legal for Ash to attack the trainers; we're 
not fighting under the Pokemon League rules, here! ...it's low, but it's 
legal."

	Taking a cue from Ash, Persian darted towards him; Jessie used the
distraction of him calling Pidgeotto for protection to vacate the ring.  

	"One down," Ash smirked as Persian was recalled in a flash of energy. 
"I thought you guys had gotten better since you'd come to Ultra, but you're
the same jokes you always were!"

	James returned Ash's insult with a smug look.  "I don't know... *our*
record seems rather impressive."

	The audience laughed as Team Pokemon's embarrassing record was brought
up.  Ash twitched.  "Sh- shut up!  At least we fight on our own!  Everyone
in CHAOS is just like them; they had to take over the entire night so they'd
get easy fights!"

	"So..." Jessie began from her spot at the ropes, putting her finger to
her chin, "...you're admitting that you're an easy fight?"

	A new cliche was coined at that point: Hell hath no fury like a
prepubescent Pokemon trainer mocked.  Even the people in the nosebleed
sections could see Ash twitch in righteous kiddie fury.  "SHUT UP!  I don't
have to listen to you!  Jessie's too stuck on herself to think of anything
else, and James is more of a girl than Misty!"

	"Hey," James whined.

	"HEY!" came a furious voice from ringside.  Meowth ducked under the 
ring to avoid its source.

	Into a comfortable groove now, Ash continued.  "What are you gonna try
to do, talk at me until you win?  The only way you guys have ever done
anything is if you cheated at it or I helped you, and I'm never gonna help
you again!"  Meowth called something over to him, and Ash continued, "And
what's with the outfits, huh?"  He pointed at James.  "What's this, don't
ask, don't yell?"

	Meowth bonked his head on the ground.  "Meowth said TELL, you liddle...
c'mon, let's get this done with!"

	"I knew I looked awful in this outfit," James sobbed.  "Growly, don't
let Ash get away with saying that!"

	The canine pokemon lunged for Pidgeotto even as it finished changing to
a normal state of matter; the bird simply swooped over it and attacked James
in a similar manner as it'd done to Jessie.  Letting out a strangled shriek,
James threw himself to one side of the ring, wanting to avoid the scary
scary birdie.

	"Wanna make this more interesting?  Let's use two pokemon each!"

	James pulled himself to his feet, keeping a wary eye on the hovering
Pidgeotto.  "Okay, fine!  No matter how many pokemon you throw at us, Team
Rocket will always come out on top!"  Settling into his own comfortable
groove of egotistical blustering, James continued, "Let's get started; this
fight's as good as done!  Team Champion Rocket is invincible!"

	"Butterfree, I choose you!"

	"Weezing, I... uh..."  James patted himself down with one hand,
confused.  "Um... Mew?  Jigglypuff?  I choose... where are all my pokemon?!"

	A flash of red caught his eye, and he whipped around to see a smirking
Meowth and Misty holding the containers for the pokemon in question; they
held them up just long enough for him to see, and hid them before the
referee turned.  James stared as he tried to wrap his mind around this
development.  "They poached my pokemon!" he sputtered.

	Jessie's protests as she tried to inform the referee of the stolen
pokeballs had an unintended effect; he was so busy dealing with her
emotional avalanche that no attention was paid as Ash sent both Pidgeotto
and Butterfree to attack.

	Ash laughed delightedly as Growly slowly withdrew against the double
onslaught.  "I knew it!  I'm the best!  I don't need anyone but me, because
I'm the pokemon master!"  A dark gleam appearing in his eyes, Ash motioned
Pigeotto towards the arm that James had been holding motionless during the
fight.

	James looked up from guiding Growly against one of Butterfree's attacks
just in time to see a blur zooming right towards the shoulder that had been
dislocated two weeks prior.  Not growing up in a normal family situation, he
did not think, "Mommy!"  No, he just let out a mental whimper.

	"Piiiiiiiiiika!"

	One crispy critter fell to the mat, landing just a few feet away from
James.  He blinked down at it, then beamed at Pikachu.  Pikachu returned the
expression.  At the other side of the ring, Ash stared at Pikachu with an
unreadable mix of emotions.

	"And it's Pikachu to the rescue, folks!" Hiroshi summarized.  "Looks
like he's finally gotten over his reluctance to fi... well... there he's
freezing up again.  But Growly's still in the game, and so this looks like
an even match!"

	Pausing thoughtfully for a moment after Hiroshi was done, Daisuke
muttered, "Ash still has more fresh pokemon... it's a draw right now..."  He
looked up at the audience and asked, "I know you all want Team Rocket to
win, right?"

	The audience's reaction left little doubt of that.

	"You don't want those cheaters to win, someone who takes advantage of
the injuries his opponents has received, right?"

	A hearty "Hell no!" was his answer, and Daisuke sat back, satisfied. 
That should do it.

	Ash looked up at the audience, gaze whipping around the full circle of
boos and jeers.  Stupid.  They were all stupid, every single one of them. 
They'd known who the real fighters were at the Pokemon Tournament, and who
the losers were.  If they wanted to cheer the losers here, fine.  But he'd
fight like a winner.

	With a flick of the wrist, Ash spun his cap back around, the brim
casting a deep shadow over his eyes.  "I've had enough of you, Team Rocket. 
It's time to end this, and I'm gonna!  I challenge you to a one-on-one
pokemon fight, winner takes the belt and are the real pokemon masters of
Ultra!"

	James, uncertain, looked over his shoulder at Jessie.  She nodded.

	Seeing that his challenge had been accepted, Ash grinned.  Time for a
little payback, then...  Feet planted firmly apart, a top-quality Dramatic
Point at James, and a nice, confident yell of, "Meowth, I choose you!"

	Meowth looked up from sharpening his claws just long enough to say,
"Hey, Meowth's management, not labor."

	"F- fine!  Then I'll pick... BULBASAUR!"  The bizarre little
plant/lizard mix appeared in a flash of light and roared defiantly up at
James.  Ash smiled down at it.  "You booed Bulbasaur before, but none of us
care any more!  We don't care what you think, so long as we're the best!"

	"BulbaSAUR!"

	To say Jessie and James were completely confident is hardly needed; 
it's their waking state of existence.  For a lifelong pessimist, though,
completely confident is something to note.  "This fight is in the bag,"
Daisuke smirked.  "Ash forgot about the Growlithe right in front of him, and
a plant pokemon's not going to stand up to a fire one."

	"What a finish, folks!  What drama!  A childhood pet now helping its
adult master stay as champion!  I can hear Michael Eisner knocking down our
doors for the movie rights now!"

	Glancing up at the ring, where Jessie and James were discussing their
plans, Daisuke nodded.  "Might as ring the bell-"

	"We choose Pikachu."

	"...now..."  Daisuke stared up at them.

	Pikachu followed suit.  "Pi... pika?"  It looked over to Ash, then back
to Team Rocket.  "Kaaaa...."

	"We believe in you, Pikachu!  You can do it!  Fight for CHAOS, for Team
Rocket, and for dramatic necessity!"  Red and white pompons appeared out of
nowhere, and the two camo-clad fighters started an impromptu cheering
routine.

	The shocked look on Pikachu's face turned first to embarrassment, but 
was just as quickly replaced by determination.  It nodded once, then slowly
walked towards the center of the ring.

	The audience expected a long standoff between the two, each trainer
waiting for the best possible moment to spring a surprise attack on the
other by proxy.  The audience was wrong.  Pikachu had barely come forward
before Ash ordered, "Vine Whip, NOW!"

	A little dart of camouflage-wearing yellow was all that could be seen 
of Pikachu for the next few seconds; more specifically, a little dart that 
was purely on the defensive.  Team Rocket still had their cheery expressions 
on, but the other CHAOS member by the ring wasn't looking on the bright side 
of life.

	"Dai, what's the matter?"

	"Rosh, if Pikachu loses, Team Rocket loses."

	"Yeah, so?"

	"If Team Rocket loses, I'm the one who has to deal with their crushed
egos."

	There was a long pause as Hiroshi considered that.  "...Dude, I'm
sorry."

	"You can do it, Pikachu!" Jessie cheered.

	"We believe in you!" James amended.

	Even as the pep squad made their cheers, Bulbasaur managed to snap
Pikachu with one of its vines; soon, the electric pokemon was secured at all
four paws.  Jessie and James stared in shock.  Hadn't Pikachu seen their
routine?

	From its bonds, Pikachu looked sadly over at its trainers, both former
and current.  It just... it just couldn't attack Bulbasaur.  How could it
attack one of Ash's pokemon like this?  It was one thing when Ash had had
Pidgeotto attack James, but...

	Pikachu forced its head back over towards Ash, hoping to see some of 
the trainer he'd known... even if that trainer wouldn't have made Pidgeotto 
take advantage of old injuries.  Instead, he got a cold, determined look in
response.

	"Traitor," Ash muttered as he looked once at Pikachu, soon moving his
eyes away from the pokemon's gaze.  "You don't wanna be the best, you just
want all the people who are too stupid to know who the real fighters are to
like you.  You wanna be a cheater like them, you want to be just like Team
Rocket.  Well, fine!  Razor Leaf attack, Bulbasaur!  C'mon, we've got the
win!"

	"Piii..." Pikachu sadly chirped, looking down towards the ground.  In
the background, behind the whistling of the leaves -- it barely felt the
attacks as they impacted, but the sounds echoed in its ears -- it could hear
Team Rocket cheering it on.

	"Okay, Bulbasaur... SOLAR BE-"

	"PiiiiiiiKAAAAAAA!"

	Before Ash could get out the command for Bulbasaur to use its strongest
attack, Pikachu practically exploded into a ball of crackling, dancing
energy.  A good portion of the audience shielded their eyes from the
sudden burst of light.

	The light faded.  A few seconds passed before anyone who'd been in 
close proximity to the ring could see again; once they could, they saw 
Bulbasaur falling to the mat.  And remaining motionless.

	Ash's mouth dropped open.  So did Team Rocket's, but they did so to
cheer.

	"Your winners and still champions... TEAM ROCKET!" the referee boomed. 

	"YES!" Daisuke cheered in an uncharacteristic display.

	Hiroshi blinked at him once, then turned to his mic.  "That's RIGHT! 
Team Rocket successfully defends their belts, and have proven themselves as
the true pokemon masters of Ultra!  Who would have thought at UltraRage
Alpha that THIS is how the rivalry would be resolved?"

	"Yaaay!" cheered James as he gave Jessie a one-armed hug.

	"Yaaay!" cheered Jessie as she attempted to balance on her good leg.

	At the side of the ring, Ash quietly recalled Bulbasaur and stepped
through the ropes.  Misty and Meowth trailed behind him as he went up the
ramp, fierce scowl hidden by the darkness.

	Raising his voice to be overhead over the mad cheers of the audience,
Hiroshi said, "And don't step away to make those sandwiches just yet,
because we're going live to the Hardcore title match! Stay tuned!"

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

     While it's true that the UltraDome crowd was large and loud, the NeoDome 
crowd had more concentrated power.  It was smaller, which meant its fans were 
packed in like sardines... loud, raucous sardines.  After all, while a crowd 
of more than ten thousand cheering is like white noise, a crowd of a thousand 
or so cheering is an audible mob scene; individual screams and catcalls can 
be heard, and people in the crowd are more than a sea of multicolor haze.  
They're a cluster of identifiable faces, of faces that hold the same 
expression: "We are very happy to be here, yes we are."

     A blonde in a red dress that was illegal in six countries stood in the 
center of the ring, waiting for the crowd to settle down so she could 
announce.  It took a full two minutes for the spontaneous N-E-O! chants and 
other mania to simmer.

     "Helllllooooooo everybody, and welcome to NEOFIGHTERS!" she announced.  
"My name is Akari Jameson, and we are coming to you live and direct from the 
NeoDome in sunny yet slightly grimy Shinjuku, Tokyo!  You may not recognize 
this place, and if you don't, it's because you don't get enough insane 
fighting action in your diet.  Every Wednesday evening at midnight you can 
tune in to see some of the craziest high flying martial arts action and 
bizarre super powers ever witnessed outside of the UltraDome!  And in keeping 
with the apparent 'Nabiki is a Big Fat Bitch in D Minor' theme of the night, 
she doesn't WANT you to see this show, so tune in to make me a very happy 
girl!"

     An entire row in the stadium held up signs with single letters that 
spelled out 'BEEKSUCK$'.  Akari clapped politely for them, before continuing.

     "Of course, this ain't Wednesday.  This is ULTRARAGE EPSILON, and this 
special presentation is courtesy of our good buddies in CHAOS arranging this 
impromptu gathering," she smiled.  "Even our boss doesn't know that the Dude 
and I have set up this little show (although odds are he's having a heart 
attack at home right now while watching us).  I'm a naughty, naughty girl, 
aren't I? That settled, let's get this party started!  The following contest 
is scheduled for one knockout fall.  Making his way to the ring hailing from 
parts unknown, please don't welcome the Furnityre Savior, MARLO SEMAJ!"

     While a thunderous wave of boos is normal in the UltraDome, in the 
NeoDome you could hear every subtle nuance and witticism hurled in Marlo's 
direction as he marched in an angry manner to the ring.  Most of the epithets 
tossed at him were in full violation of broadcast regulations, but someone 
was asleep at the seven second delay buzzer.

     Marlo swung himself through the ropes, keeping a firm grip on the steel 
chair he toted with him.  He motioned for Akari to get the hell out of here, 
as he snatched the mike from her.  "Go back to your desk, woman!  I've got 
somethin' to say to these jokers before my match starts.  I want to 
OFFICIALLY protest this... this ridiculous last minute ring substitution!  
Jack, I was signed and ready to deliver a match in America right now, NOT in 
this dinky hand-me-down arena!  The only reason I agreed to go along with 
this is because I want to beat down Akane NOW, rather than wait for Nabiki to 
return!"

     Another obscene chant about what parts of the human anatomy Marlo liked 
to put his mouth on began.  Akari assumed her position behind the desk, and 
tried to untangle the headset cords as Marlo rambled on.

     "Although... you know, in a way, maybe it's appropriate that I've been 
railroaded here," he continued, leaning on the ropes, as he watched the 
entrance ramp like a hawk.  "Akane, I know you're back there somewhere.  You 
recognize this place, don't you?  It's the same dome that Jack put on the 
moon the night you took my belt from me!  Real cute trick, putting me through 
a flaming thumbtack covered table.  But tonight, I'm gonna burn YOU!  For a 
full season you've let that belt go to waste, disgracing the prestigious 
Hardcore title!  You idiots can rag me all you want, but the Furnityre Savior 
is going to be walking out of here tonight with his property!"

     "The crowd's definitely not behind Marlo on this one," Akari announced, 
while cracking open her first beer of the night.  "Hey, don't look at me like 
that, it's my job to state the obvious.  Makes it more dramatic..."

     "To make sure this night is special, I've brought along a little 
friend!" Marlo declared, as he waved his steel chair.  "Look what I have!  
Titanium plating!  Reinforced rivets!  This is the best chair mortal science 
can devise.  One hard swing with this and it'll be concussion city, with your 
brains so scrambled that you won't be able to remember your own name!  What's 
taking you so long back there, Akane?  Trying to find a little something to 
even the odds?  Scared I'm going.... to......."

     The fact that a hammer as large as a compact car even existed was 
frightening enough.  The '100t' printed on the side of the jet-black 
implement of flattening destruction was even scarier.  But the way Akane 
swung it around with effortless ease, that was what caused the Furnityre 
Savior to nearly wet his pants.

     "Further proof that size DOES count," Akari decided, as Akane posed at 
the top of the ramp, content to draw cheers as Marlo simply stared in 
amazement.  "How she squeezed that thing into the building is beyond me.  
Maybe that's why the Dude was cutting the double doors open with a welding 
torch earlier tonight?  I figured they were gonna drive a furniture truck in 
the building or something..."

     Akane twirled the one hundred ton mallet once, before casually balancing 
it over a shoulder.  "You like pancakes, Marlo?" she asked.  "I'm in the mood 
for PANCAKES, myself..."

     "On second thought I think I've changed my mind," Marlo quickly said.  
"Jack, I refuse to go along with this match!  I agreed to go to America and 
you said I could refuse if I wanted, and since this is not an officially 
sanctioned Ultra ring--"

     "We're at NeoFighters," Akane reminded.  "It's in the Ultra family.  Me 
kicking your ass here is the same as me kicking your ass at the UltraDome!"

     "But the bell hasn't rung!  There's no match if I leave before--"

     *dingding*

     "Oh, silly me," Akari said, hiding the tiny bell hammer.  "Give 'im 
hell, Akane!"

][ ULTRARAGE EPSILON MATCH #2 : HARDCORE TITLE DEFENSE
][ MARLO SEMAJ vs. AKANE TENDO
][ FIGHT!!

     Before the second 'ding', Akane was already charging the ring with the 
speed of a sprinting cheetah... as Marlo was charging OUT of the ring and 
trying to climb over the audience barricade to flee.

     It wasn't that he was afraid of the pathetic little girl, no.  
Definitely not.  But it WAS very unfair, and Nabiki would throw this match 
out when all was said and done, so he might as well--

     A black shadow blotted out the lights from the grid high above.  Marlo 
turned to see a hundred tons of steel coming down at him...

     So he scooped up some kid out of the audience with his chair to use as a 
human shield.  Akane stopped the mallet quickly, the weapon of doom hovering.  
Dumping the kid to the side and diving to his knees, Marlo swiped his chair 
at her ankles.

     While Akane was damn good at swinging a hammer around via some innate 
talent, a hundred tons was not something you could swing without 
extraordinarily delicate body balancing.  A sharp rap to the legs was enough 
to upset that balance, as she fell flat on her face, the mallet landing 
(thankfully) on the safe side of the barricade.  It did register as a 2.4 on 
the Richter Scale, of course.

     Marlo was not one to let an opponent recover after being knocked down.  
He reared back his chair, which gleamed in the glare of the lights, and 
swung.  One good shot, that's all he needed, one shot to finish this--

     *CLACK*.  The chair was kicked back in his face by Akane, as she flipped 
to her feet.

     "And a modified Van Daminator from Akane!" Akari announced, waving her 
beer in the air.  "Wooo!  You go, girl!"

     Quickly assuming a true martial arts stance, Akane pressed the attack.  
She had trained a long time for this night, studying her enemy... he had one 
very strong weakness.  Once you got him dizzy, he couldn't easily whip out 
furniture.  When he had no furniture, he was helpless against a true martial 
artist.  She followed up the kick with another one, this time to the 
midsection to get him to double over -- grabbing him by his hair, she whirled 
around to toss him into the steel steps at ringside.

     Marlo's world was one of pure agony and funny blotchy colors at that 
point.  He tumbled end over end across the steps, sliding to a halt flat on 
his back.  Staring at the lights, he tried to figure out where he went wrong 
-- then he saw an Akane-shaped blob coming for him and decided he could 
figure out where he went wrong when he wasn't in immediate danger.  Rolling 
away from a stomping attack, he scurried under the ring and to safety.

     "Looks like he's hiding under the ring apron," the announcer said, 
trying to lean across the desk and get a better look (while the camera got a 
better look down her dress).  "And now Akane's going after him.  Man, it'd 
suck if they fought under there for the rest of the match.  I can't see a 
damn thing... no, no, there he is-- whoa."

     The young Furniture Warrior had to flip the loose dropcloth surrounding 
the ring all the way up before climbing out; otherwise, it would have snagged 
on his prize.  He crawled out from under the ring, toting a baseball bat 
freshly wrapped in barbed wire.  Akane grabbed for his ankles as she came 
out, but rolled out of the way quickly before Marlo could take a swipe.

     "Where did you get THAT?!" Akane asked, keeping her distance, edging 
away from the ring.

     "You call yourself a hardcore fighter and you have to ask that?" Marlo 
asked, twirling the bat in his hands, also keeping his distance.  The 
taunting would give him some time to recover.  "There's all sorts of crap 
under the ring during fights like these!  Tables, chairs, kendo sticks, stop 
signs, fire extinguishers... and your basic barbed wire covered Louisville 
Slugger!  BATTER UP!"

     Marlo whirled the deadly weapon back, swung... and totally missed, as 
Akane sidestepped.  He gave it another swing, but missed again when she 
ducked.  Something was wrong-- no, wait.  It wasn't FURNITURE, so his usual 
skills weren't going to apply... but at least it kept Akane on her toes.  
There was no way she could safely approach him like this.  All he needed to 
do now was wait for her to make one mistake.

     His opponent seemed just as aware of this stalemate.  The two mixed it 
up with attack and dodge, dodge and attack, with Akane unable to close the 
gap enough to land a physical attack.  Marlo did his best to keep her from 
the ring apron, to prevent her new knowledge from helping her.

     Akane glanced at the bat.  At Marlo.  At the crowd.  And...

     Grabbed the nearest fan by the collar, stripping him of his hot pink 
'I'm a Dan Fan!' t-shirt in one smooth motion.  "Gomen!" she quickly 
apologized, as she wrapped it around her hand, and made a lunging grab for 
Marlo.  The bat was swung...

     And Akane caught it with her protected hand.  The shirtless fan went 
ballistic with pure otaku joy, cheering her on.

     "Yow!" Akari yelped.  "Man, even with a 0.01% cotton shirt as a 
safeguard, that's gotta hurt!"

     "HEY!" Marlo shouted, trying to pull the bat away -- Akane's grip was 
like a vice, unwilling to let the boy reclaim his advantage.  "Let go, you 
crazy bitch!  LEGGO!"

     "You said you wanted a hardcore fight," Akane spoke through a grimace.  
The barbs were digging into her hand; thankfully not very far, but enough to 
cause pain.  "Mallet or no mallet, weapon or no weapon, I'm a FIGHTER and 
you're just a talentless brawler!  I'm gonna prove to you that I deserve this 
title by beating you on your own terms!  HYAH!"

     Hauling with all her might, Akane finally managed to yank the bat out of 
Marlo's hand.  Tossing it lightly in the air with a spin, it twirled one 
eighty and landed handle first in her other hand, as she discarded the 
bloodied t-shirt.  Grinning to herself, she briefly assumed a batting stance 
before sliding into a straight kendo offensive position.

     Marlo was quick to take out a desk lamp -- which Akane knocked away, 
using the bat like a kendo stick.  The chair and desk Marlo tried next were a 
little harder to whack away, but a little thing called 'Adrenaline' was 
giving Akane the juice to make it happen.

     And so, out of options... Marlo ran.

     "Truly, Marlo knows his opponents inside and out," Akari sagely spoke.  
"After all, that's the famous Saotome Secret Technique, isn't it?  And look, 
Akane's found the counterattack, 'Running After the Little Wuss'.  I tell 
you, it's moments like these that truly represent the finest in mixed martial 
arts competition."

     This is not a problem, Marlo thought, no, no, not a problem.  Nabiki 
will throw it out anyway.  All he had to do was escape the crazy woman.  He 
just had to bail through the entrance ramp curtain, and--

     And of course, Akane outflanked him, to block his route to the safety of 
the backstage area.  Ducking a swing from the bat, Marlo rolled out of the 
way and took the next best route... up, instead of out.

     Hand over hand, like the monkey bars back at school, he climbed the 
metal framework that supported the video screen.  Fortunately he always got 
B+'s in gym class, especially climbing the big rope (even if it made him feel 
kinda funny), and this wouldn't be a problem.  Ten feet, twenty...

     Glancing back down, and there was Akane following after him.  She was 
hindered a bit by trying to carry the bat as she climbed, but that only made 
her AS FAST as Marlo, not SLOWER.  Terrific.

     The audience went 'ooh' and 'aah', as the fight was taken to new heights 
(so to speak).  Marlo hurried, sweat streaming off his forehead as he hit the 
thirty foot mark... he grabbed onto the adjacent lighting grid with his 
hands, and putting his faith in the furniture gods, let go with his legs.

     It was a spectacular sight on live television -- a daredevil swaperoo 
from one absurdly risky high place to another.  Marlo awkwardly pulled 
himself up to his feet, balancing on the precarious network of pipes and 
steel structures that held up the ring lights.  He glanced back, looking for 
his opponent... and didn't see her.

     "Gave up, Akane!?" Marlo shouted down.  "S'matter, afraid of heights?"

     "No, I just jumped over here before you did," Akane said behind him.

     The surprise almost knocked Marlo off his feet.  His arms pinwheeled a 
little, as he tried to keep his balance... the audience held their collective 
breaths, waiting for the inevitable which did not come.  He snagged his 
balance like the rare grab of a claw in a UFO catcher machine, and gave Akane 
a push before scrambling to escape along the lighting grid.

     Akane dropped like a rock.

     The baseball bat hit the floor.

     Fortunately, she grabbed a pipe before taking the complete plunge to the 
stage.  Using her superior agility, she swung up onto the grid again, and the 
chase was on -- half tightrope act, half high wire stunt, half insanely 
dangerous.  Marlo made his way to the center of the grid, just above the ring 
itself, when he turned to face his opponent...

     With a bellow of rage, he pulled a large, fluffy sofa out from nowhere.  
It was a desperation attack that had an equal chance of blowing up in his 
face, but there were no options left.  With all his might, he swung it at the 
approaching Akane--

     And missed, as Akane dropped down low, dangling from the grid by her 
hands to avoid the gigantic weapon.  The sofa clobbered a spotlight, knocking 
it off the grid as both furniture and electrical equipment dropped into the 
ring instead.

     "GOT YOU!" Marlo declared, hurrying over to step on Akane's fingers 
before she could climb back up.  Akane cried out in pain, trying to shift her 
hands around, but Marlo kept stomping, trying to shake her off...

     "...folks, I'm going to get a dock on pay for saying this," Akari 
warned, "But... HOLY SHIT.  Man, not even Li's acrobatics match up to this.  
If she drops from that height, we're talking career ending injury--"

     *fzzk*

     A blast of hot air rose, as the couch caught on fire when the broken 
spotlight started to spark.  Within ten seconds a ring of fire had spread to 
cover the canvas of the entire fighting ring, and now Akane risked not just 
falling, but falling into a blazing inferno.  The fans, being fans of extreme 
violence, went hog wild for this, cheering madly.

     "Great googly moogly," Akari intoned.  "DUDE!  Security guys, now!  
Extinguishers!  HURRY!" 

     Akane stared down in horror despite that 'Don't look down, you moron' 
thought echoing in her head.  "Marlo, stop it!" she pleaded.  "Let me get up!  
This is going WAY too far!"

     "Akane?  Babe?  There is NO! SUCH! THING!" Marlo insisted, stomping each 
time.  "As TOO! FAR!  Weren't you the one who put me through a flaming table 
last time?!  I told you I'd get my revenge!  I AM hardcore!"

     Frowning through the pain, Akane glared up at him... and made a 
decision.  "Fine, then!" she declared... and snapped her hand up, not to grab 
the steel bar, but to grab his ankle.  "If you're so hardcore, you're COMING 
WITH ME!"

     "..." Marlo rebuked, as the two of them took a fall.

     He blacked out immediately after that, but the audience saw the whole 
story.  Both fighters plunged from the lighting grid, down into the flames... 
and bounced off the sofa Marlo had dropped in earlier.  Sure, the sofa was on 
fire, but it was enough of a spring to launch both Akane and Marlo out of the 
ring to crash painfully into the mats around the ring rather than stay in 
that blazing hell any longer.  Security Guys were out immediately with 
extinguishers, hosing both competitors down, silencing the flames.

     "And so ends another spectacular... err... well, I guess you could call 
it a 'match' in the loosest possible terms," Akari defined.  "Stretchers are 
being wheeled out, and the referee's issuing the obligatory ten count... but 
this one's as good as called, folks.  NOBODY gets out of that kind of impact 
in under ten seconds.  If neither of them are on their feet by then, it's... 
WHAT?!"

     The circle of people around the two widened, as both slightly scorched 
figures started to move.  First Akane, starting to prop herself up on her 
elbow.  Next was Marlo, rolling onto his side and groaning...

     "Four!" the referee counted, not believing his eyes either.  "Five!  
Six!..."

     Both were now on their knees, trying desperately to get up...

     "...seven!  Eight!..."

     One foot each, almost there.

     "Nine!--"

     Before ten, Marlo whacked Akane in the back of the head with an 
ergonomic stool and she fell down again.  He got to his feet just long enough 
to make the count, hear the bell, and fall over again in exhausted victory.

     Empty soda cans and popcorn boxes rained down on Marlo's fallen form, as 
the EMTs tried to load Akane onto a stretcher.  She roused a moment later, 
clutching her head and refusing their help, as she staggered up the ramp 
emitting a few very unladylike words.
 
     "And Akane walks out of here, without her belt," Akari groaned.  "What a 
sneaky little bastard.  A LAST SECOND, pulled-straight-out-of-your-ass 
victory.  I'd say 'Glad we don't have jerks like that in NeoFighters' but you 
guys haven't met Yaga yet... but hey, she did WALK out of here, which is a 
feat in itself after that!  Looks like Marlo isn't as lucky, as he's still 
down... no, wait, he's getting up again."

     Where am I?  Oh, right, Marlo thought, as he looked around at the 
jeering crowd.  Something cold and metal was being pressed into his arms... 
the belt.  The belt?  THE BELT!

     "YES!" Marlo shouted, holding it up high (and trying not to topple over 
under the weight of all that gold).  "I did it!  I DID IT!  I am hardcore!  I 
am hardcore!  I am--"

     Cutting through the noise of the crowd like a chainsaw, a car engine 
roared.  This would be normal in the parking lot.  It would not be normal if 
it was coming from some place backstage.  Marlo turned to face the entrance 
ramp, confused...

     Roaring out of the curtains and mauling a few support beams along the 
way, a red sports car rocketed from the curtains and thundered down the ramp.     
The car halted just short of Marlo with precise braking skill, but not before 
giving the young boy his first heart attack.

     The driver stepped out of the car, mirrored shades on, smile jacked up, 
and waving politely to the spazzing Marlo.

     "Hello!" Bean Bandit greeted.  "I catch you at a bad time?"

     Before Marlo could answer that, Bean socked him across the jaw with a 
fist that could have punctured battleship armor.

     "WHOA!" Akari gaped.  "That pizza delivery guy from last week just took 
out the Hardcore Champion!"

     "Heyyy, everybody!" Bean shouted.  "Sorry to barge in, but I had to take 
care of two things.  One, Tifa wanted me to knock this punk's ass out, and 
two..."

     With a flick of the wrist, Bean yanked the belt away from Marlo's 
unconscious hands.  He placed it up against his waist and tried fastening it 
in the back... and smiled.

     "Great, it fits," he said, before tossing the belt back onto Marlo.  
"It's so hard to get clothes that fit me.  I think I'd like to make it a 
permanent feature of my wardrobe.  See you in the ring sometime REAL soon, 
kid!"

     Without another word (but with the intense screaming the crowd egging 
him on), Bean climbed back in his car, and slowly reversed it out of the 
NeoDome.  Medics scrambled to load up Marlo, who unlike Akane, was not going 
to be walking out of the building under his own power.

     Akari sat back, totally wasted from all the excitement.  She raised her 
beer in cheers.  "Folks, if that wasn't worth your cash, I don't know WHAT 
is.  This is Akari Jameson saying WATCH MORE NEOFIGHTERS, DAMMIT and we now 
return you to your regularly scheduled beatings.  Damn.  I could use another 
beer."

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****
     
     Somewhere inside the UltraDome, Tifa was marking out.

     "YES!  YES!  YES!" she cheered, jumping up and down and pumping her fist 
in the air as she watched the dome's video feed.  "Hoohah!  Sucks to be you, 
Marlo!  That's what you get!  That's what you get for breaking my arm!  
HAHAHAHAHAoww."

     She cradled her sore arm, muttering as she sat back down.  Lingering 
injuries were a pain.  Tifa had a few from her martial arts training over the 
years, and sometimes these things took months to fully heal; hopefully this 
one wasn't going to be that bad, or she wouldn't be able to tag with Bean.  
At least she'd be able to help him out when he went for Marlo's belt in the 
future...

     "Hey, Tifa!"

     "Huh?  Oh, Yuffie," Tifa greeted, waving her friend in with her (other) 
hand.  "You see that?  Hah!  Beanie just got me a little grade A revenge."

     "Naah, wasn't payin' attention," Yuffie said, flicking a yo-yo up and 
down boredly.  "Just killing some time before my big match."

     "I thought Jack cancelled your match with Schneider?" Tifa asked, 
resting her arm.

     "He set up another one," Yuffie pouted.  "Jack's such a jerk.  Miss 
Tendo's a much nicer person.  ...hey, what's that?"

     "Eh?  Ooooh, this," Tifa grinned, showing off her glove... more 
specifically, the red gem embedded in the knuckle.  "Check it out, check it 
out.  I found it yesterday.  Best Summon materia I've ever used!  I can't 
really try it in the ring though, it'd be completely unfair in my 
division..."

     Yuffie's eyes lit up like the kind of diamonds James Bond would be 
declare as being 'forever'.  "Lemme see, lemme see!" she begged, grabbing 
Tifa's hand (which made her wince painfully) to get a better look.  "Pretty!  
That's just great, Tifa.  Well I'm off for my match bye bye!"

     "...bye?" Tifa said, as Yuffie skittered off.  Weird.  Of course, that 
ninja girl was always pretty erratic.  She turned back to watch the monitor 
to see who Yuffie would be facing--

     "KASUMI!!"

     "Eh?" Tifa asked, turning around.  "Uh... who're you?"

     "Please, have you seen Kasumi?" the wild-eyed man asked.  "I've been 
searching the dome for hours!"

     "Kasumi Tendo?  No, I haven't.  Is she here tonight?"

     "What about Skuld?"

     "Errr... one of the goddesses, right?"

     With no small amount of desperation, he tried again.  "Gokuu?"

     "I think Gokuu's one floor down," Tifa said.  "But he's getting ready 
for the main event, so you really shouldn't disturb--"

     And he was off and running, just like Yuffie was.  Doubly weird.

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

     His feet pounded the cement floors of the UltraDome's back hallways.  
His breath was burning in his lungs like flames shooting out of his throat.  
He ran until he couldn't run anymore.  Then he ran more.

     He could see the door before he could reach it.  Those five seconds of 
sprinting physically hurt him, the anticipation, grasping the knob, throwing 
the door open--

     And having his worst fears confirmed.

     Skuld and Gokuu glanced back at him... as they sat in front of a bed 
with the sheets pulled up.  Pulled over a person lying in rest.

     "...no..." Doctor Tofu whispered, sinking to his knees, hand still 
hanging off the doorknob.

     "There go my hopes that the shield would keep you out of the dome," 
Skuld/Metatron sighed.  "I told her she should've talked to you before going, 
but she thought it'd be better this way--"

     "Kasumi CAN'T be dead!" Tofu shouted.  "NO!"

     Gokuu remained silent, his head hung low.  He couldn't think of anything 
to soothe Tofuu's pain, nor did he feel he had a right to.  He had 
participated in this, and it felt like murder...

     "There wasn't any other way to get this," Skuld justified, as she held a 
small crystal sphere.  It glowed with a white light, a light from the surface 
of the globe rather than the inside -- the inside was intended to contain 
something else that glowed in and of itself.  "The Answer.  Getting it out of 
her meant a sacrifice.  Tofu, she made it willingly, you know, it's not like 
anybody was twisting her arm--"

     "Shut up," Tofu demanded, getting to his feet.  "Shut UP.  I've had it 
to here with you and your God and the Answer and all of this!  Why would God 
allow something like this to happen?!  Where's the justice?"

     "Hey, nobody said the Universe was fair," Metatron reminded him, feeling 
he had to defend the boss.  "Or rather, the ultimate fairness is to let what 
will happen, happen. That's his style, you know.  Live and let live, don't 
fix it if it ain't broke--"

     Tofu's head snapped up, fire in his eyes at those words.

     "How... how can you possibly say that?" he demanded to know.  "How can 
you believe that's what's going on here?  You're trying to fix one of God's 
mistakes, aren't you?  You're meddling in natural affairs, all out of God's 
selfish desire for existence to be preserved!  How can you justify that AND 
justify Kasumi losing her life as being 'natural'?"

     "Hey hey. Watch what you say about the big guy--"

     "I will NOT!  I'll call Him a hypocrite for tampering with destiny, in 
the same way I'm a hypocrite for wanting Kasumi's destiny to be this.  If God 
isn't going to be fair, then let Him be unfair in the way I want Him to be!  
If not... I swear, I'll renounce--"

 Ono Tofu,
 you cannot truly renounce God,
 as to do so would be to renounce yourself.

     It wasn't so much a voice, as it was the memory of a voice.  Tofu 
remembered hearing it, and remembered seeing the Metatron's lips move, but he 
didn't see it happen.
 
 God is everywhere and God is everything.
 You are a part of this planet,
 a part of this universe,
 and thus a part of God.
 God is all that exists.

 What is to be,
 will be,
 according to the wishes of all living things that love life...
 life that is threatened by the very existence of this power.

 The way of things must be changed according to
 the way things want to be changed.
 That is the will of the all-father and his creations
 which are also he himself.
 It is that love of life that drives the selfish desires of this action.

      It was a few seconds before Doctor Ono Tofuu found the strength to 
reply to that voice.  "Then... if that's the way it is, then I want Kasumi 
back," he spoke.  "My love of her is selfish, but it's mine to defend in the 
same way you're defending your own life.  I'm part of this world and a part 
of existence, a part of YOU, and that's my wish.  What do I have to do to 
make it come true?"

 If the Universe can save itself,
 if God can save itself from the power known as the godhead,
 then it will have won the right to guide itself to peace and security,
 the true prize.

 Your dream is part of the dream of God,
 and it too shall come to pass.
 But if your people fail, and the Universe is destroyed...

     "We won't fail," Tofu stated.

 Be at this address during the chosen time,
 and act as you would act.
 There,
 You will be able to make your dream come true.
 187 Kintaro Way, Tokyo.
  The Metatron has spoken.

     "...huh?"

     "...you know, I never get used to the mouthpiece gig," the Metatron 
spoke in his own voice rather than the voice of God.  "It feels so weird.  
Think I bit my tongue... err.  Well, you've got your own answer, and you've 
got your marching orders.  Hop to it, Tofu."

     "Marching orders?" Tofu asked, disoriented.  "That... address?  I have 
to go somewhere to save Kasumi?  What did he mean, act as I would act?"

     "I just speak his words, I don't interpret them.  Often, at least.  You 
hold up your end, I'll hold up mine, Gokuu holds up his... and Kasumi's done 
her bit.  Together, all living things will make it happen and you'll get what 
you want.  He has spoken.  And such.  Okay?"

     Tofuu was already out of the room and heading to the street to hail a 
taxi by the time Metatron had finished babbling.

     To break the silence, the angel nudged Gokuu.  "See?  Told you it'd all 
work out.  S'just a matter of faith.  Everything gonna be good like gravy."

     "That remains to be seen," Gokuu spoke.  "But I'll remain hopeful."

     "Guess it helps to be the man on the inside, then.  I've got a cheerier 
outlook about this since I know what's really going on.  I'm actually quite 
looking forward to the paradigm shift.  Sure, it's risky, but I've got faith 
that she'll turn out just fine..."

     "Lina, you mean?" Gokuu asked, looking at Metatron.

     "When's the bloody fight, anyway?  I'm rather stoked here, I'd like to 
get on with things.  You got the coordinates to the tech guys already, right?  
Great suggestion for an arena, by the way, beat out my picks."

     "Thanks," Gokuu said, smiling a little.  "We're on good terms, and they 
were only happy to help.  Listen, I've got to get ready now... it takes a lot 
of meditation before I'm prepared for moderating a fight this big."

     "What fight?  We're duping Lina and Cloud into giving up the goods and 
then selectively decompiling reality.  The sword thing is all a hoax, 
remember?"

     "I can sense a fight on the horizon, Metatron.  I don't know what form 
it'll take, but I need to be ready for it," Gokuu warned.  "You may know the 
face of God, but I know the spirit of battle.  That's why I'm not as assured 
as you are.  In battle, there are no sure outcomes.  I'm going to get in some 
last minute training, to be on the safe side... if you need me, I'll be in 
the gym."

     "I'll be here waiting," Metatron said.  "Don't take off for the fight 
without me.  And... you know where I can get a video camera?"

     "This is Ultra.  You can't swing a dead... ...you'll find them all over 
the place," Gokuu adjusted.  He blurred once, and was gone off to train.

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

     "Folks, we've got word that Akane's getting treatment at the hospital 
for her burns and a concussion," Hiroshi announced.  "She's going to be okay, 
but... jeez.  Dai, I'm glad they didn't have that one HERE, you know?  I've 
only got one life left to live, and a fire hazard like that..."

     "I don't think Bean could fit through the door to the UltraDome like 
that, either," Daisuke added.  "I've gotten word from the back that 
Controversial Jack has decided to put Yuffie in a match after all, even if 
she won't be challenging Dark Schneider.  Considering she was bought off to 
be an easy opponent, I'm curious to see how she'll handle things toe to toe 
with a real Omega competitor."

     "Don't forget, she did take on Naga previously.  Did a decent enough 
job, too.  We go LIVE AND DIRECT to Generic Blasted Wasteland #1512, for this 
special CHAOS-issued match!"

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

     Yuffie stepped out of the dimensional portal, happy as a clam and 
peaceful as a dove.  She examined the scorched earth around her, noting its 
fine lack of any cover whatsoever and zero environmental hazards she could 
work to her advantage, and still didn't worry one bit.

     She looked at her opponent, who was stomping his way out of another 
portal with impacts so heavy that they shook the earth, and continued not to 
worry.

     "Hmmph," CyberAkuma II grunted, ignoring the hovering camerabots, and 
the bell-bot that was to sound the start of the match..  "So you are my 
victim, and not the one called Shingo.  A mere girl."

     "Yep!" Yuffie said.  "That's me!"

     "You will die just as quickly as he would have."

][ ULTRARAGE EPSILON MATCH #3 : UNFAIR MATCH
][ YUFFIE KISARAGI vs. CYBERAKUMA II
][ FIGHT!!

     "Ding!" the bell-bot chimed.

     Akuma flared with purple energy, prepared to end this in one blow.  His 
ultimate finishing technique, the same one that sent Ifurita on a mach twelve 
dive.  "KOUCHO--"

     A brief red glow swirled around Yuffie's feet, as she posed... and 
vanished.  CyberAkuma halted his attack, confused...

     When he looked up, an organic spaceship the size of Manhattan was 
looking back at him.

     A convenient camera orbiting the wasted planet whirred to life, tracking 
the magical circles and sigils glowing across the entire surface of the 
world, centered on that spaceship.  A tremendous buildup of power flared from 
the circles, bulging at the center, threatening to blow... until it did.

     "..." CyberAkuma spoke, as he found himself shunted at four times the 
speed of light into the center of another galaxy, which then exploded.

     In some bizarre twist of physics, the cyborg's body then crashed at 
subsonic speeds to the blasted ground he had just left, shortly before 
exploding.  Metallic Bits o' Akuma decorated the landscape, as the bell-bot 
sounded off to signal the end of the fight.

     Yuffie faded back into view, and power-posed to show off the shiny red 
materia on her glove.  "Yosh!  Yuffie-chan wins!"

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

     Tifa stared at the screen in complete befuddlement.

     If that's my new Eden summon, she thought, then what's...?

     As a test, she flicked her glove once to trigger the materia.

     *pouf*

     "Wark?" the mighty summoned avenger of justice warked.

     "YUFFIE!" Tifa growled.  "You mugged me again?!  That's it; I'm getting 
tired of this!  Just wait until I get my hands on you!"

     Kicking over her monitor in a brief fit of rage, Tifa stomped out of her 
dressing room intent on intercepting the ninja before she could leave the 
building.  The Chocobo had no immediate comment on the matter.

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

     When the cameras returned, Daisuke was holding up a large card with a 
printed address on it.

     "Remember," he said, gesturing his hand along the words like Vanna White 
would with letters, "If you have any complaints about the talent here at 
Ultra and their ability to either win effortlessly in an unentertaining way 
or get spread across the landscape like artificial butter, send a letter to: 
Nabiki Tendo, c/o UltraDome Mailroom, 1 Ultra Way, Tokyo, Japan.  Do us all a 
favor and mail it postage due.  Of course, then she'll have more cause to 
fire Hiroshi, besides this whole 'invasion' we're staging tonight..."

     "Come on, it's not like Jack doesn't have a plan," Hiroshi reminded him.  
"He wouldn't do this without a plan.  Surely he has a plan for what to do at 
the end of the night.  ...right?"

     "Hiro, you know me.  I'm a natural born pessimist.  In my opinion, this 
is probably not one of Jack's brighter moments.  I'm thrilled to be here 
behind the desk again, as you can tell with my jovial and excited tone.  
Hooray.  But if I was leading CHAOS tonight... I'd probably have taken a few 
more precautions before trying this.  Get an exit strategy organized in 
advance.  For instance--"

     The looming spectre of romance towered over Daisuke like Godzilla.

     "You're a natural leader, Daisuke-chan!" Shermie declared, wrapping her 
arms around Daisuke from behind.  He instantly turned six shades of purple 
(red from embarrassment + blue from lack of oxygen).  "Surprise!  I was in 
the dome before you locked it off.  I wanted to pop in earlier, but you 
seemed so busy.  Do you wanna sneak off in the back for huggies and other 
things?"

     "...busy," Daisuke mumbled, trying very hard not to even speculate about 
the notion of thinking about what the concept of 'other things' could 
possibly mean.  "Uh.  Shermie?  Could you, uh, let go?"

     "Never ever ever!" Shermie giggled.  "And ever and ever and ever and 
EVER AND--"

     "Look, Shermie!" Hiroshi distracted, waving a small plush Voiduck dolly 
around.  "Cute object!"

     "Ooooooooo," Shermie wooed, letting go of Daisuke.  Her eyes, from 
somewhere behind the mass of hair, followed it intently.

     Winding up his best fastball, Hiroshi pitched the plushie at least 
twenty rows away.  "Fetch!" he ordered.  As Shermie plowed her way through 
the crowd causing any number of minor injuries, Hiroshi tapped the silent 
alarm, and security guys swarmed through the crowd.

     Daisuke's lungs decompressed in relief.  "Thanks, man."

     "I got one question for you," Hiroshi asked.  "What is UP with her?"

     "I wish I knew, Hiro.  Jeez... one week she's all nice and keeps her 
distance, the next she's all over me, the next she's talking about medieval 
torture rituals as if they were fun date activities... she's been getting 
better about it lately, so I don't immediately flee, but it's still 
unnerving.  Can't think of anybody to ask for advice on having normal 
relationships..."

     Hiroshi cleared his throat pointedly, pointing to himself subtly.

     "Like I said, I can't think of anybody to ask for advice on having 
NORMAL relationships," Daisuke repeated.  "Now I've got one question for you. 
...where did you get a Voiduck plushie?"

     "Well... I collect them."

     "Collect what?"

     "Cute little plushies."

     "..."

     "ANYWAY!" Hiroshi exclaimed, turning to face the camera.  "Our next 
fight is just about ready according to the voice in Mr. Magic Headset.  Ranma 
will be taking on... Ranma!  Man vs. Himself!  A great literary theme, as 
ancient as mankind itself!"

     "You COLLECT cute little plushies?  You actually brought them with you?"

     "They help me relax, okay?  Now, get ready for hot fighting action, 
folks!  We now take you live and direct to the exterior of the UltraDome's 
boiler room!"

     "Hiro, tell me that's not a Rei plushie I see in your pocket."

     "No, I'm just happy to be here."

     Daisuke's chair scraped lightly, nudging away across the cement floor.

     Hiroshi held up the Rei dolly.  "I was KIDDING, Dai."

     "I think I'll stay over here anyway, thank you."

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

     Ranma shook his hands out and cricked his neck to each side. He could do 
this; he HAD to do this. He just needed to focus. All it would take was for 
him to forget about all those outside problems for just a few minutes so he 
could button down and fight his darker self. And win.

     He slowed his breathing and shut his eyes, trying to find a calm center. 
Yeah, Akane had been beaten up pretty harshly, but that wasn't his concern. 
She was fine, she had left the 'Dome on her own and was getting seen at that 
moment. Yeah, he wasn't in the best condition, or even anywhere close to the 
top of his game, but--

     *WHACK* Ranma pitched forward and grabbed the back of his head. He felt 
a small bump growing there.

     "Are you listening, Ranma?"

     "Washuu," he turned around and glowered at her.

     She swung her fan a second time and bapped him on the forehead.  
"Washuu-CHAN," she scolded.

     "Right. Washuu-chan."

     "Much better." She smiled, dimples in her cheeks enhancing the cuteness 
in such a way that Ranma was sure she did it on purpose, somehow. She started 
pacing in front of him, reciting, "When you step through the door to the 
boiler room, your mind will split between your two personalities. Your other 
half will appear. After one minute, the first of you to leave will be the 
winner."

     Ranma nodded and looked at the closed door. Funny how things came back 
to the beginning like that. It was kinda zen, or something. Maybe taoist. He 
idly wondered if he should have paid more attention to that sort of thing.

     "Are you sure it's safe?" he asked, eyeing the new, odd technology 
border now surrounding the doorway.

     "Ranma, I am Washuu! The greatest scientific genius in the entire 
universe. Of all time! Of course it's safe. You won't come to any lasting 
harm."

     "Lasting... great." Ranma swallowed. "Okay, I'm ready." He took a step 
forward. "Ranma, wait!" He looked back and saw a crab in front of him.

     "Gah!" he took an involuntary step backwards.

     "Hug Kani-chan," Washuu ordered, wiggling the plush toy in his face. 
Ranma looked and realized she was in pajamas. Green pajamas with... cute 
little mushroom clouds all over them. The crab fit right in with her attire.

     "What?" he asked.

     "Hug the crab, Ranma. It'll do you good."

     Not willing to argue the point with the scientist, he hesitantly wrapped 
his arms around the crab and hugged it lightly. Washuu pressed the fuzzy 
goodness against his face and made a smacking sound.

     "Wonderful! He likes you!" Washuu pressed a button and the door slowly 
opened. A soft blast of heated, humid air wafted out. Ranma squinted his eyes 
at the dank features beyond. "Off you go!" she said cheerfully. "I'll be 
waiting. Don't take too long, either. I've got somewhere to go."

][ ULTRARAGE EPSILON MATCH #4 : LOSER LEAVES PSYCHE
][ RANMA SAOTOME vs. RANMA SAOTOME
][ Guest Booker : Damien Phoenix
][ FIGHT!!

     Ranma tightened his fists and strode through the door. As he passed 
through the portal, he felt... Nothing. Nothing at all. But Washuu had said 
that Ranma-chan would appear in the room. He narrowed his eyes as he slid a 
foot forward, opening his senses to the room. He had to find her first.

     The first punch slammed into his kidneys from behind. He tried to turn 
towards the attack, but a leg sweep tumbled his legs together. She had 
appeared right behind him. 

     He felt the strikes from the small, balled-up hands, a barrage of hits, 
all over, far too many to block or dodge. How did she get to be so fast?

     A palm strike clipped his shoulder, spinning him around. This was 
followed up by a blow to the stomach. As he doubled over, Ranma-chan flipped 
backwards, hitting him with a double kick to the chin. Ranma sailed through 
the air and slammed into pipe hanging across the the room. He tumbled and hit 
the floor wetly.

     Groaning, Ranma pushed himself up. He saw a victorious smirk on Ranma-
chan's face as she spun around and grasped the handle to the door. She tugged 
at it, but it refused to open. An annoyed grunt escaped her as she pulled 
harder, but it refused to budge. "Dammit," she cursed. "What's wrong?"

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

     "Ranma looks to be going for an early victory, but is it too soon?" 
Hiroshi announced, his chest straining against the table as he leaned 
forward. His eye's were rapt to the screen, much as the other 30,000 people 
in attendance were.

     Daisuke checked his watch. "Nope, it's only been thirty-eight seconds. 
She can't get out yet."

     "Well, she had an advantage, but it now seems to have been squandered! 
Ranma-kun is moving again!"

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

     "You tried too soon," Ranma said softly. "Have to wait a minute." He 
leapt towards her, aiming a snap-kick at her chest. Ranma-chan dropped down 
into a crouch so his strike went over her head. He hit the door and bounced 
off. A midair flip later he landed in a defensive stance opposite Ranma-chan.

     "You still missed," she said. Her arms hung loosely at her sides. "You 
always miss. You never go for the kill."

     Ranma charged against her. "I don't need to!" he shouted, swinging a 
chop at her neck. Ranma-chan caught it with her wrist and stepped into his 
charge, aiming a knee at his groin. At the first brush of her knee he hopped, 
a miniscule movement of his feet, but it allowed him to pull up above the 
danger. He continued the movement into a body check, his greater weight 
bowling the red-haired girl over.

     She rolled with the momentum, however, dropping onto her back and 
extending her leg to catch him in the midsection. Her roll continued and 
Ranma found himself flying through the air again. He loosened up, twisting in 
mid air so he could hit the ground lightly.

     He turned to face Ranma-chan again. She had a sneer of dominance on her 
face, one that seemed familiar, yet distant, as she came back at him. She 
dropped to her hands, both legs swinging around in a high leg sweep. Ranma 
dove over the sweep to dodge, and he felt her legs brush along his chest. He 
planted a handstand, turning on his palm to drop and ax kick on her head, but 
she rolled away too fast. His heel came into contact with the concrete as she 
moved.

     Her hand snaked out and grabbed his ankle. She pulled at him as she 
stood, tumbling his balance. His head smacked against the ground and he saw 
stars. His vision blurred for just a moment, but when he got his senses back 
he couldn't breathe.

     "You're weak, hesitating like that." Ranma-chan leaned down, her foot 
pushing into his diaphragm. "You can't even come close to matching me. I've 
got the drive--" A harder push. Ranma tried to gasp, but he couldn't. "--The 
skills, and the speed. What do you have?"

     Change of tactic, he decided. He latched his hands around her foot, 
lifted and made a small, hard circle with them. Surprise blossomed on her 
face as she stumbled back, her body rotating around so she hit on her chest.

     Ranma sucked in a gratifying breath of air and rolled forward to his 
feet. Opposite him, Ranma-chan scrambled up and eyed him warily. "I'm 
stronger than you," he said. "I can take more damage."

     She snorted. "Ha! It hardly matters when you can't land a solid blow."

     "I can take anything you throw at me--" Ranma quick-stepped forward and 
feinted a fist towards the bridge of her nose. Her head jerked back, but he 
was already spinning around. His other elbow whipped into the back of her 
head, her movement compounding the strike. She staggered forward and spilled 
over his upraised leg.

     "--And I can deal it back fine, in return."

     "You're a coward." She rolled away. "Never going for a final strike. 
Stop playing around and fight me!"

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

     "So far it looks like Ranma-chan's got the upper hand," Daisuke said as 
if reading off of a script.

     Hiroshi paused before replying to check and see if his partner indeed 
was doing just that. "That may be, Dai, but Ranma's not one to give up 
easily. The Ranma's are balanced pretty well. Despite Ranma's speed, I think 
Ranma's resiliance will allow him to make a stunning comeback in the end. If 
Ranma can't take him down quickly, she probably won't be able to take him 
down at all!"

     Daisuke blinked at Hiroshi. "That made absolutely no sense whatsoever. 
Can't you differentiate?"

     "Ah-heh," Hiroshi gave a nervous smile, then looked back at the screen. 
"Well, they're off again! Look at Ranma--"

     Daisuke coughed pointedly.

     "--kun go! He's pulling it out to take that bitch down HARD!"

     "Don't do something strange and get all biased on us, okay?"

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

     He could catch her, he was sure of it. She was faster, yes, but not that 
much faster. All he needed was a couple of solid blows and then he could 
press the advantage and subdue her. He let forth a flurry of fists and feet. 
She danced back out of range.

     There had to be some way to catch her.

     Suddenly, realization dawned and Ranma brightened. "Dodge this!" he 
challenged. "Katsuu tenshin--"

     "--Amaguriken!" Ranma-chan finished. His punches were met one for one by 
her machine-gun fire blocks. "I know you, Ranma! I am you. Give it up, 
because you can't beat me."

     "I can. I will. Mouko Takabisha!" The ki-strike ballooned out from 
Ranma's hands, brushing across his distaff counterpart's features.

     She coughed once and looked down at him. "Pfah! DAN is more effective 
than you. And so am I. Mouko Takabisha!" She jabbed two fingers forward and 
tapped his forehead as the blast went off.

     Hard and soft, weak and strong, gentle and harsh. Ranma bounced on the 
top of a boiler and down the other side, feeling conflicting results from the 
attack. He was at peace.

     He lay on the ground for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and 
wondering why he was lying on the floor. Oh, yeah. He'd been hit by a chair. 
He had to get up, run away. Live to fight another day. He couldn't let the 
anger out. Not again. It had almost killed him before.

     Except...

     Except that Akane needed him. He couldn't leave her with Marlo.

     "Ranma," he heard that whiny taunt. "I'm waiting for you. Or do you 
really WANT me to take your bitch down."

     Could he do it? Face someone, now, before he was ready. What if he broke 
down again? What if he hurt Akane as well as Marlo? She couldn't defend 
herself against him.

     But she couldn't defend herself against Marlo, either, a voice in his 
head whispered. Wasn't that reason enough to do something? Why didn't you?

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

     "Umm..." Hiroshi blinked. "This is a very interesting turn of events, 
folks! It appears that Marlo has entered the battle. I'm not quite sure how, 
though."

     "Isn't he kinda... unconscious?" Daisuke asked.

     "Who cares! We here at Ultra won't let something like Unconsciousness 
get in the way of bringing you fans quality entertainment!"

     "Actually," a voice interrupted, "that's not quite true." A little box 
on the Ultratron opened to show the smiling face of Washuu.

     "Washuu!" Hiroshi exclaimed. A dimensional portal opened above him and a 
frying pan fell out to clonk on his head.

     "Washuu-CHAN!" she chided, waving her crab plushie at the camera for 
emphasis. "It's very simple, really. Marlo is not in the boiler room. Since 
this is a battle of Ranma's mind, I felt it appropriate to have my amazing 
device actually show what's in Ranma's mind."

     "You mean... Ranma's hallucinating?' Daisuke asked.

     "In a manner of speaking." Washuu smiled widely. "Isn't this FUN?"

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

     Calm. He could do it if he kept calm. Focus, find that cold, dark center 
to himself and latch onto it. Breath in...

     "Do you want Akane to burn?" Marlo called. "You get your ass out here so 
I can whup it right and proper, or I'm going to play Martin Pang on her 
warehouse-sized butt!"

     Ranma let out his breath and stepped around a boiler. Above one of the 
flickering florescent lights swung back and forth, sending the shadows into a 
nauseating mutation of large and small. In front of him, Marlo stood over the 
tied-up, incapacitated form of Akane. The Furnityre Savior looked up at 
Ranma, a glint in the his eye, then he calmly  brought a microwave down on 
Akane's head.

     Then he did it again. Marlo's arms raised a third time before Ranma 
tackled him. 

     With surgical precision, Ranma disarmed Marlo of the microwave and then 
the three-foot speaker that replaced it. An open handed slap across the jaw 
knocked the boy down.

     And Marlo laughed. "What's with that slap? You fight like a girl!"

     "What?" Ranma took a step back. Why was Marlo laughing?

     "You heard me! You're a wimp, Ranma! A loser of the first degree! You 
bring a primo new spotlight to the class of Last Place High. Graduating 
valedictorian to the group to ALWAYS know that you'll never be the best; that 
there's always someone out there to show you up; and that you can't do 
anything more than give little wet girly slaps." Marlo kicked Akane once for 
emphasis. "She could hurt me more right n--"

     The rest of Marlo's taunt evaporated in a crunch of fist against 
jawbone. Followed by a punch to the gut. Then a knee to the groin. A few more 
strikes and the Furnityre Savior's nose was crushed and his ears swollen.

     Ranma stepped back. His hands dripped as he held them in front of him, 
watching Marlo waver. A hand slowly came up to brush matted blond hair away 
from eyes. 

     "That it?" Marlo asked. The corners of his mouth tweaked upwards.

     Ranma screamed. His hands turned into a blur with a cry of "Amaguriken!" 
Marlo's face briefly registered his surprise, then his body started jolting 
around from the hits.

     The fraud would go down fast and hard. Ranma would make sure he never 
got up again. He'd break ever single bone in the punks body, and do it so 
fast that everyone would know he wasn't a loser, that he could win and that 
he would do anything it took to achieve that.

     Marlo hit the floor like a wet sack of bones and flesh. Ranma loomed 
over him, daring the boy to move, to just give hime one reason to let fully 
lose. He's make sure the Hallowed Furnityre Savior never...

     Wait.

     This was wrong. Ranma blinked and looked down at the sodden mass of 
humanity before him. What had he done? He didn't want to hurt people like 
that! Where was his control?

     Ranma's breathing shallowed. He stumbled back and ran up against a pipe. 
The metal burned through his thin kung-fu costume, but all he could see was 
the bloody mess in front of him. How COULD he do that?

     He couldn't. He wasn't even there. He hadn't! It had been her. She was 
the one who did these terrible things. He hadn't fought back. He didn't want 
to. He wanted to walk away. 

     No...

     He had wanted to walk away. He had tried. And she wouldn't let him. But 
that was the past, he couldn't change it, and now...

     And now he was fighting her. Ranma squeezed his eyes shut, then peeked 
through slits. Ranma-chan was peering at him, not Marlo

     "I have to win, now," she said. "I don't want YOU in my head ever 
again."

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

     "Well, that was certainly different," Daisuke said. "Ranma-kun has come 
back into his own head after going though an imaginative beating of Marlo 
Semaj."

     "And aren't you glad you're watching it right here on PAAAAAAAAAY-PER-
VIEW!" Hiroshi rolled his head around as he spoke. "For you could NOT see 
this intensity of Hardcore Ultra Fighting on any old Nabiki-run episode! This 
is something that only Controversial Jack could bring you!"

     Daisuke coughed. "Hyping a little hard tonight, 'Roshi?"

     "Work with me?"

     "..."

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

     "You're too dangerous," Ranma said.

     "For what?" his red-haired opposite asked. "For the poor widdle 
weaklings who surround us? Get it straight, we don't need to worry about 
them! We've got power, we should use it."

     "We can't! It almost killed me before, and you've almost killed people 
with it, too. I'm not letting you win. I have to get rid of this dark, ugly 
side of me."

     "Shut up!" Ranma-chan leapt, clawing at Ranma with outstretched arms. 
They went down in a jumble as he tried to fend off her raking strikes. They 
rolled to a halt with her on top, straining her fingers towards his face as 
he held her wrists. "I'll kill you!" she shrieked.

     "No," he grunted. "I can't let that happen."

     "You--" Abruptly, Ranma-chan hauled him up. He was stronger, but she 
still had a finely-honed body which could easily hoist his frame. "--Have--" 
She grabbed one of his wrists and swung around. "--To!" Ranma whacked against 
a pipe and felt something crack.

     Ranma-chan let go and Ranma slumped to his knees. He gasped a few times 
before realizing that he didn't have any broken bones. He turned his head up 
to face her. She opened her mouth, glee in her eyes but stopped when a 
creaking sound of straining metal grew behind Ranma. Her eyes went wide, 
seeing something behind Ranma and she took two steps backwards.

     He twisted his head around and saw the pipe she had slammed him into, 
its surface dripping from condensation, start to shudder. He scrambled to his 
feet, took one step...

     And the pipe exploded. A jet of hyper-pressurized water slammed into 
Ranma and barrelled him into Ranma-chan. She flew across the room and knocked 
over a small boiler. A jet of steam enveloped her form. The water was cold, 
chilling Ranma to his bones. He flew a distance until the water pressure let 
up, then hit the ground and shivered. She felt weak but pushed herself up. 
There was no way that little prick would gain the advantage over her.

     Ranma wobbled to her feet, but her stomach disagreed with the sharp 
movement. She hunched over and vomited. She coughed twice, trying to clear 
the taste from her mouth, as Ranma-kun stepped out of the steam. He was 
unsteady on his feet, and as he glanced down at the mess she had made, he too 
doubled over.

     They stood opposite each other, neither daring to make a move. She 
wondered what had happened, how he had managed get into her head again. This 
time had been even worse, like they had been in the same place at the same 
time. An impossibility of nature.

     Whatever he had done, he'd pay, now. Her lips curled into a snarl as she 
sprinted forward. He was still wavering, so she could end it in his moment of 
weakness, and then she would have it all to herself. No more sharing time 
with that wussy, no more sleeping while he went off to play his mamby-pamby 
games.

     She swung and missed by a mile as Ranma rolled out of the way.

     "I know how to beat you, now," he said. She turned and swung again, but 
he continued around her. He moved, faster and faster, just keeping out of 
reach of her strikes. What was he doing?

     She felt the air charge up around her, like the static buildup before a 
lightnign strike. Her skin felt cold, her insides hot, and she realized.

     Shit, this was going to hurt.

     "Hiryuu Shouten Ha!" Ranma-kun thrust his arm up as the chi cyclone 
grabbed Ranma and twisted her around. Her insides tried to go outside, her 
outsides in, and her body went up and down at the same time. Somehow, her 
throat managed to let out a scream.

     She spun around in the maelstrom, rising in a spiral to slam into the 
high ceiling. Small pipes bent around here, brushing roughly against her 
skin. It felt like the end of time while she hung up at the top of that 
martial storm, battered again and again. Her voice failed, but her mind did 
not.

     And suddenly it stopped. She dropped, and through the heavy lidded haze 
of near-unconsciousness she heard another sound. Another scream that had 
mimicked hers, but this one was not cut off by damage to the body. It only 
failed after she had thumped against the ground, bouncing onto her back and 
staring at the cracked and pitted ceiling above. The scream choked off when 
oxygen failed to feed it.

     Next to her, Ranma-kun slumped to his knees. She struggled to rise, to 
defend herself against whatever he'd do next. It was so difficult to move, 
but she couldn't stop. She had been so close, and she would not give up the 
body now.

     But Ranma-kun was not making an attack. An expression of sheer surprise 
plastered his features. His lips moved, but no sound came out. None until he 
spasmed, his chest lurching as his lungs finally filled with air again. He 
panted, staring at her.

     For a few moments, they just stared at each other. Ranma frowned, trying 
to filter through her confusion. The Hiryuu Shouten Ha had hurt, but she'd 
never known anyone to be as well off as she was from it.

     And it had never hurt her like it had Ranma-kun, just now. It was almost 
like he had siphoned off the damage from her. She blinked, and a smile rose 
on her lips.

     "What went wrong?" Ranma-kun asked. "I'm calm. You're angry. It should 
have worked perfectly. Why am I hurt?"

     Ranma barked out a harsh staccato laugh. "Of course it didn't work. 
We're the same person! We've got the same chi, so we can't defeat each other 
that way." She smirked and got to her feet. "But I'm going to pound you so 
hard for doing that to me, anyway." She cracked her knuckles.

     Her first punch was caught in Ranma-kun's open hand. He rolled with the 
second but was forced to let go, so her followup clipped him nicely across 
the forehead. Two more sharp jabs and a snap kick to his knee and Ranma-kun 
was on the ground again.

     She made to drop an elbow across his head, but he managed to pull aside 
just in time. Instead, her arm cracked hard against the concrete floor. Pain 
lanced up to her shoulder. She hopped up to her feet, but had to cradle her 
arm against her chest. She hissed in annoyance and pain and danced back away 
from Ranma-kun as he flipped to a handstand and kicked towards her face.

     He smoothly swung to his feet, his arms held wide in a modified crane 
stance. He took little half steps towards her, shuffling his feet like a 
kendo master. He swung a sweeping chop at her, which she ducked. She tried to 
cut forward to strike at him, but he skipped to the side and changed stances.

     "What are you--" she started, then feinted a low kick. Ranma-kun pulled 
his leg back, but stumbled slightly. Ranma darted in and slammed the heel of 
her palm into her solar plexus. She drew back her arm, preparing to deliver a 
strike to his open throat. Her lips cracked into a feral smile. Victory was 
hers.

     But Ranma-kun's face didn't show defeat. He reached up and grasped her 
arm. She moved to shrug him off, but he was pulling her in and around while 
he stepped to the side. His other hand clapped against the base of her neck. 
She tried to squirm away, but it was like his palm sucked at her skin.

     "Heion Seki Tai Geiha Kai!" Ranma-kun's hand quivered against her once.

     Reality twisted for her. Perception warping to crack across her mental 
picture of the world in spider-web fragments. Then it fell away, sucking into 
a gray vortex of perfect fractals.

     For a moment, she felt absolute panic, then succumbed to the calmness 
like a baby on a feather pillow. Ranma saw rainbows. Then gray.

     Then black.

     Then nothing.

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

     "Holy fatty-tuna Sushi! Did you see that amazing finish! Ranma Saotome 
pulls off a new final attack to defeat his twisted half to get the win!" 
Hiroshi hopped up on his chair and waved his arms as if to pump the crowd.

     Not that the noise could go any higher. Thirty thousand fans were on 
their feet (many even up on their seats) marking it up.

     Daisuke held his hands close to his ears, trying to fend off the noise 
slightly. "I'm sure they saw everything. Just like every person like you on 
the planet, they're glued to a screen somewhere, just to see a guy pelt the 
hell out of himself."

     "Yeah, but did they see that POWER?"

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

     Ranma let his other half drop. He had done it. He'd stayed true to 
himself, remained calm, and defeated his aggression. Literally.

     An odd rumbling shook the boiler room. Puzzled, he looked around for a 
source, only to realize that it was the cheering, stomping crowd in the arena 
above him. The door to the room had opened, and he saw Washuu waiting on the 
other side. He started towards the door.

     Just before he passed through, he stopped and looked back. Ranma-chan's 
form lay there, a testament of his victory.

     And yet... it felt hollow. What had he truly defeated? He was the calm, 
collected center. But where was the ambition? The lust for victory? Where was 
his determined willingness to face any opponent, at any time, and be assured 
to win.

     The fight had shown that he wasn't confident any more. Ranma-chan had 
had him on the run, and he could not deny that. She had confidence, even at 
the very end when he had forced her body to achieve a calm balance. She never 
thought she would lose.

     He had only survived because he feared losing.

     Ranma Saotome could not walk out of that room the same man he had been. 
He could not leave empty handed. He walked back, picked up the limp body, 
that face framed in red hair so peaceful for the first time in what felt like 
years.

     Washuu cocked her head to the side slightly as he passed through the 
doorway. The body in his arms disappeared. "All done?" Washuu asked.

     "You betcha!" Ranma said, smiling.

     "Good! I'm outta here!" And with that, the greatest mad scientist in the 
entire universe stepped into a portal and disappeared.

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

     Daisuke abruptly started clapping. "That... was very impressive," he 
announced.

     "What a spectacular epilogue to an amazing battle! Tell me Ultra fans, 
when have you ever seen such drama, such majesty, such respect for one's own 
self as Ranma Saotome versus Ranma Saotome?"

     And the crowd thusly marked out to Hiroshi's hyping.

     "Yes, it's certainly been an impressive match. And next up--"

     "You know what!" Hiroshi jumped up, interrupting Daisuke. "This is the 
sort of quality entertainment that only one man can bring to you! 
Controversial Jack Lysias is here for you, folks! He knows what you want and 
how to deliver it. So don't support Nabiki's Regime any longer!"

     Daisuke blinked. "Er... yeah."

     "And next you're going to get even more smoozy, controversial action! I 
tell you, folks, this fight is just going to ooze with all that great Ultra 
stuff that you love!"

     "Dark Schneider has held his title since he took it from Naga The White 
Serpent seven weeks ago. His reign hasn't been the smoothest, and he hit 
early troubles in a controversial loss to Ifurita just minutes after claiming 
the title."

     "That's right, and don't expect him to hold onto it any longer. For 
tonight, Darshu has a mystery opponent! One who is guaranteed to wipe his 
silver-maned butt from here to London! Is that the sorta stuff you want to 
see?"

     "YEEEEAAAAAAAAHHH!!!" The crowd duly responded.

     "Right on!" Hiroshi pumped his arm. Ah, it felt great to work a crowd 
without restraint.

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

     Desert blasted wasteland #2271 was typical of the breed. It was 
generally flat, mostly of uniform color (tan, brown, yellow, and grey were 
popular choices, though a few could be had in rust and orange), and tended to 
be a bit selective in the clientele it allowed to remain. For instance, if 
you weren't able to subsist in 110 degree weather for six months with nothing 
more than a tongue to stick ten feet down so you could get two drops of water 
on off weekends, you probably didn't belong there.

     Dark Schneider kicked rock number sixty-three. Maybe. It could have been 
the same rock he'd been kicking for the previous twenty minutes while he 
waited around for the stupid match to start. Jack's instructions had given 
him the time to go through the portal, with assurance that the fight would 
begin ASAP.

     The Omega champion reminded himself to hurt Jack in the future for 
tricking him. It would just be the sort of controversial thing he could chalk 
up to the spike-haired nincompoop.

     A portal opened and a bald, orange-gi-ed figure stepped out. "Is this 
the right place?" Krillin asked, looking around.

     "You better believe it." Darshu slapped the substitute Omega referee on 
the back. "Now listen. When that idiot appears, you just stay out of the way 
and let me do my job. Comprende?"

     Krillin looked fearful for a moment, then nodded minutely.

     "Good!" Darshu stepped back. "Now, where is he?"

     "I-I don't know, Mr. Schneider. He's supposed to be here, now."

     "If he doens't make it in time, you disqualify him and I get the win, 
right?"

     "Yes, I believe so. But I'll have to check up on it with Na... Jack."

     "Do that. I don't want to sit around here any longer. He's not going  
to--"

     A third portal opened and his opponent stepped out. Small swirls of dust 
rose around the muscled feet as the figure rolled his shoulders and regarded 
Dark Schneider.

     "You!" Darshu shouted. "I want you--"

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

     "Dan Hibiki!" Hiroshi shouted. "Let's hear it for the Taunting Godhead 
Legend Man