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                 Episode 75:  Going Undercover
                 Written by:  Grayson Towler

                 MTCFF Ultra Created By:  Twoflower


The hotel room lay in ruins.

Detective Lei Wulong surveyed the wreckage around him in shock 
and dismay - curtains torn, chairs smashed to kindling, the bed 
tossed into the corner of the lush penthouse suite like a 
discarded cheese sandwich.  The only pieces of furniture left 
intact in the midst of this chaos were the television stand in 
the corner and the chair positioned in front of it.

A man slumped in the chair, the glow of the television 
silhouetting his sprawled figure in a flickering dance of color.

"Johnny?" Lei called.  "Johnny Cage?  Is that you?"

The detective covered the floor in quick, graceful strides, 
neatly sidestepping the scattered piles of debris.  The figure in 
the chair was indeed Johnny Cage.  Lei took one look at the actor 
and drew a sharp breath.

Somebody had worked Johnny Cage over pretty thoroughly.  The 
wreckage in the room and the bruises on the actor told the story 
to Lei Wulong's experienced eye.  There had been a fight, a 
serious fight, between Johnny and somebody who really knew what
they were doing.  Cage's real-life fighting skills had never 
quite measured up to his on-screen performances, but it would 
have taken an exceptionally skilled warrior to do this to the 
superstar.  

"Hold on, Johnny!" Lei implored.  He began to dial for an 
ambulance, but he had seen a lot of injuries in his time on the 
streets.  It didn't look like Johnny Cage was going to pull 
through this one.

"Lei...?" croaked the action hero.  In spite of the pummeling 
he'd clearly endured, he still wore his expensive sunglasses.  
"Is that... you?"

"I'm here," Lei assured him.  "The paramedics are on their way."  
When the actor had called him on the phone earlier that evening, 
Lei had thought he sounded kind of strung out.  Cage had told him 
that he needed to see him, urgently, but hadn't given any 
explanation as to why.  Lei hadn't realized that it was a matter 
of life or death.  "Just hang in there, Johnny," the detective 
told him.  "You're gonna be all right."

"Lei..." Johnny's voice came out as a hoarse wheeze.   "It was... 
fun..."

"Fun?" Lei repeated, confused.  He knelt close to Cage, to better 
catch the actor's words as his breath grew shallow.  "What 
happened here, Johnny?"

Cage smiled at him weakly.  "I have been... and always shall 
be... your friend."

"Yeah, okay," Lei agreed, a little embarrassed.  He thought that 
was rather an exaggeration.  While he'd still served on the beat 
in Hong Kong, Lei had worked as a martial arts consultant for 
three of Johnny's movies - "Return of the Groovy Master," "Valley 
of the Pugilists Part V," and the inexplicable "We Meet Again, 
Pupurun."  Their professional relationship had been tolerable 
enough, though he privately thought Johnny was a prima donna of 
the first order.  He would have hardly labeled Johnny as a 
friend, but now was not really the time to say so.  "Listen, 
Johnny," he tried again.  "Who did this to you?"

"I would have liked... to have seen... Montana..."

Lei blinked in confusion.  "What?"

"Lei!" Johnny rasped.  His breath was beginning to fail.  "There 
is... another... Sky...walker..."

The detective growled in frustration.  "Will you knock it off with
the damned death scene lines for a second, Cage?" he snapped angrily.
"Now who did this?  WHO?"

With the last of his strength, Johnny Cage lifted his finger and 
pointed towards the flickering screen of the television.  "Ul... 
tra..." he whispered.

And then, he was gone.

Lei checked for Johnny's pulse and sighed as he found nothing.  
On the screen, a re-run of the last episode of Ultra had begun to 
play.  Lei watched the opening montage, the faces of numerous 
fighters flashing large across the screen.  "Ultra," he said 
softly.  Johnny hadn't managed to tell him who'd killed him, but 
he had narrowed it down.

The photos of the fighters formed into a mosaic on the screen, 
and the bold logo of MTCFF Ultra appeared in a storm of computer-
generated pyrotechnics.  

"One of you did it," Lei said to the luminous faces on the 
television.  The sirens of the ambulances blared somewhere out on 
the street.  "But which one?  Who killed Johnny Cage?"

- - - - - 

The great observatory of the Daitokuji mansion featured an 
absolutely stunning view of Graviton City at night.  The two 
figures who stood upon the open-air platform looked out across 
the glittering lights of the city in silence, then as one turned 
their eyes to the stars.  B-ko had discovered that these long, 
quiet moments were simply a part of her darling Sephiroth's makeup, 
and she'd learned to enjoy them.

Finally, the Son of Jenova spoke.

"Are your preparations complete?" he asked in a silky voice.

"A few minor adjustments," she assured him.  "But it will all be 
ready in time."

"You are certain?" Sephiroth turned his luminous eyes to gaze at 
her.  "Washuu is not to be underestimated.  If she detects you 
beforehand..."

"It's all right," B-ko said.  "Washuu is undeniably brilliant, 
but she makes the same mistake that many intelligent people do - 
she assumes that everybody else is stupid.  She's too confident 
that her security is unbreachable.  It is she who has 
underestimated me, my love."

"That's good," Sephiroth said.  She thought she heard a hint of 
melancholy in his tone.

"Darling," she hazarded, "are you... planning to kill that 
child?"  Normally, the murder of children was beyond B-ko's 
ruthlessness threshold, but she knew that there was something 
special about Washuu's daughter.  She didn't understand what 
Sephiroth wanted with the girl, but she knew he must have his 
reasons.

"She cannot be killed," the ex-SOLDIER told her.  

"Then her power... can you take it?"

"No," he said with a sigh.  "No, my dear.  I now know that such a 
thing is impossible, even for me.  I realized this truth after my 
battle last week, and then I understood what I must do."

"Oh?" He hadn't talked about why he forfeited the match against 
that absurd Dan Hibiki.  She listened earnestly.

"Following my victory, I sensed the truth.  I had suspected it 
after she survived the Masamune, but now I know for certain.  That
child is not merely a holder of the divine power, as the others
were before her.  She IS the power made flesh.  Though I am 
loathe to admit it, I cannot usurp her." Sephiroth closed his
eyes and smiled sadly to himself.

"Then what will you do?" B-ko asked quietly.

"The next best thing," the One-Winged Angel answered.

"My love?"

His voice became sharper and stronger as he spoke.  "I know the 
course I must take.  I'm counting on you to take care of Washuu 
for me.  Leave the girl to me."

"As you wish, darling," B-ko said, then leaned against his 
shoulder.  She didn't know what Sephiroth planned to do, but that 
didn't matter.  He trusted her.  He relied on her to help him.  
That was all she really wanted.

- - - - -

Controversial Jack's office was an ongoing enigma to the Ultra 
staff, and the Great Yaga found it to be a tedious inconvenience.  
It wasn't enough that the man had to redecorate on a whim - 
sometimes several times per day.  Jack also has a tendency to 
pick up and relocate to a different space somewhere in the 
building whenever he fancied. It meant that one was compelled 
to ask directions every time one wanted to visit the Head Booker 
of Ultra.

Today, it seemed Jack had decided to situate himself in one of 
the supply closets.  His entire workspace - furniture, laptop 
computer, file cabinet, bird bath for his rubber duck, clay idol 
to the Hindu goddess Kali - hovered three feet off the ground, 
suspended by heavy chains dangling from the ceiling.  The crew of 
This Old Dojo simply arranged their supplies in the hallway 
outside, so they wouldn't have far to move them when Jack Lysias 
inevitably relocated again.

Idiocy, thought Yaga.  

Jack looked up from his chess game with Mr. Duck as Yaga entered.  
"Ah!" he called down from his elevated perch.  "Yaga.  There you 
are.  Do you remember how these horsey pieces are supposed to 
move?  I think Mr. Duck is cheating."

"That isn't my concern," Yaga informed him stiffly.  "I am here 
to arrange my match for the upcoming show."

"Oh.  Not a social visit?"

"Certainly not."

Jack shrugged, then shot a stern look at Mr. Duck.  "Don't you 
rearrange the pieces while I'm busy, you hear?"

>SQUEAK!< Mr. Duck retorted, rather indignantly.  

"Right."  The Head Booker hopped down from his office space, 
snatching a clipboard on the way down.  "Okee-dokee, Yaga my man.  
What have you got in mind?"

"Li Ping," Yaga told him.  He raised a hand before Jack could say 
anything.  "Now, I know what you're going to say.  You want to 
milk the rivalry.  You want to play it for ratings.  I 
sympathize, sir, but there is a flaw in your logic."

"Oh?" Jack asked.  He seemed amused that the term "logic" had 
been applied to him.

"This... rivalry," Yaga asserted, "is a weak one.  Weak, because 
Li Ping is obviously an inferior fighter.  He is a child addicted 
to action movies, nothing more.  Barely qualified for NeoFighters - 
certainly not prime time material.  There are others in Ultra 
far more worthy of my skill and stature, yet so long as this 
rivalry with the ridiculous Li Ping exists, it diverts focus away 
from bigger and better things."

"So you want to cream Li Ping and get it over with?" Jack 
supplied.

"Indeed.  You see the matter clearly now." Yaga nodded with 
approval.  "Once I demonstrate the boy's ineptitude, the audience 
will tire of his clownish antics.  You and Ms. Tendou will be 
free to hand him his pink slip and offer his contract to some 
more worthy competitor."

"Well," Jack said, consulting his clipboard, "I guess you got it 
all figured out.  Anyway, you shouldn't have any trouble beating 
Li Ping, what with his neck in that brace and all."

"Brace?" Yaga asked warily.

"Oh yeah," Jack informed him casually.  "Hurt himself training.  
I hear he watched 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' nineteen times 
in a row and just about broke his neck bouncing off the rafters.  
Severe whiplash or something.  Anyway, that should make it a snap 
for you."  Jack began to scribble on his paper.

"A moment." Yaga interrupted Jack's writing.  The big wrestler 
grimaced.  He wanted to crush Li Ping, but beating up on an 
invalid in the ring was certain to draw nothing but disdain from 
the crowd.  He could not afford to look like a bully.  "The boy 
may be a joke, but it would be unfair to force him to fight while 
seriously injured.  Let us consider a different match for this 
show."

"Whatever you say," Jack said agreeably.  "You're still gonna 
want the headliner spot, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, how about a title shot at Gamma?" the spiky-haired booker 
offered.

Yaga felt his heart clench.  He had nothing but the greatest 
confidence in his skills, but he was no idiot.  A fight against 
that monster Sagat was not something he felt prepared to face.  
He coughed and tried not to stammer.  "A generous offer, Jack.  
But... er... not entirely appropriate..."

"Oh?" Jack asked, cocking his head attentively.  

"Yes, well... you need to keep Ultra's greater interests in 
mind," Yaga told him.  "The Gamma Belt is perhaps the most 
coveted prize in the federation.  It would be... unadvisable to 
allow it to change hands so soon after Sagat earned the title."

"Hmm."  Controversial Jack frowned thoughtfully.  "I see the 
point."

Yaga breathed a sigh of relief.  In spite of his terror at the 
prospect of facing Sagat, he found himself pleasantly surprised 
by the Head Booker's attitude.  He had thought that every 
interaction with the man would turn into a power struggle, but it 
seemed that Jack had finally begun to respect his experience and 
authority in matters of sports entertainment.  It was a big 
improvement - Jack Lysias would be far more useful as an ally 
than an adversary.

"Let us consider, for a moment, who might be suitable for this 
match," Yaga said.  It was time to make an overture of friendship 
- let the man have his input.  It would make him feel valuable.  
"Who do you think would make a worthy opponent?"

"Lemme see," Jack murmured, making a show of checking over his 
list.  "Well, it'll have to be someone popular."

"Naturally."

"And the audience is getting a kick out of this young-old stuff 
you've got going," the Head Booker noted.  "How about... James.  
>From the Team-Formerly-Known-As-Rocket."

"James," Yaga mulled.  The idea had potential.  Cut off from 
support from his partner, James would be at a severe 
disadvantage.  And Yaga had seen the boy fight before.  A 
squealing coward lurked beneath that blow-dried, preening 
exterior.  Traditionally, the audience despised nothing so much 
as a coward - if he could make this James show his true colors 
in the ring, the crowd would surely turn on him.  And as James's 
star fell, Yaga's own would rise.  An appealing vision.

But there was one matter of concern.  Yaga had very little 
familiarity with these Pokemon creatures that James used to fight 
for him.  To arrange a stipulation in which the boy could not use 
his little pets would make the match too lopsided - again, Yaga 
had no wish to seem a bully.  So...

"I might accept such a match," Yaga told Jack.  "However, I have 
a condition."

"Oh?"

"Better preparation allows me to put on a better show," the 
veteran wrestler declared.  "I wish to see documentation 
regarding these Pokemon animals that James uses.  A detailed 
description of each one."

"I suppose I could swing that."

"And those of his partner," Yaga added.  If the boy knew he was 
fighting alone, he might bring extra ammunition.  He seemed to 
have a certain base cunning.  However, Yaga knew that each of 
these Pokemon had some sort of weakness.  With the proper 
information, he could prepare himself to deal with each of them, 
no matter what creature James decided to cower behind in the 
ring.

"A detailed Pokemon FAQ," Jack said.  "You betcha.  So that's 
what you want, then?"

"I believe that will be sufficient," Yaga told him.  Jessie and 
James still might try something unexpected, but Yaga had his own 
allies to help contend with such emergencies.  "A match with the 
Pokemon trainer, James.  Very good."

"Right-o," Jack chirped.  "That'll be all?"

"Yes, I believe so."  He favored Jack with a broad smile, and 
even executed a very slight bow.  "This has been a very pleasant 
meeting, Mr. Lysias.  I hope we can continue to have a mutually 
beneficial relationship."  

With that, Yaga exited the supply closet.  Jack watched the door 
close behind the one-time champion, his eyes glittering with 
mischievous glee.  "Pleasure's all mine, big guy," he muttered.

- - - - -

Saotome Ranma shuffled his foot against the worn wooden floor of 
the Tendou Dojo and chewed his lip nervously.  A few months ago, 
this wouldn't have been so hard.  But things had been different 
between himself and Akane since they'd partnered up in Ultra, and 
now he found himself thinking more about whether he was going to 
hurt her feelings or not.  

He was pretty sure he'd just done that.

"So... you don't want to be a team anymore?" Akane asked in a 
quiet voice.  "Is that what you're saying?"

"It's just temporary," Ranma assured her.  "I hate to admit it, 
but I ain't in shape to beat Sagat right now.  That guy's gonna 
take everything I got.  I... I gotta focus, Akane."

"On your training."

"Yeah.  On my training."  And on not having to watch over you all 
the time, he thought, but he didn't say it.  Somehow, he was 
pretty sure she understood that.

"And me?" she whispered, hiding her eyes under he bangs.

"Well... you should take a breather.  You know, get all healed 
and stuff."

"Are you saying," she asked softly, "that I shouldn't fight in 
Ultra?"

"Uh... for a while," the pig-tailed martial artist agreed.  
"Look, you've been kinda banged up, right?  Just give it some 
time.  I mean, you don't wanna go back in there and run into some 
freako like Vega or something, right?"

"Someone I couldn't handle without you, you mean," she said.

"No!" he denied quickly, though that was precisely what he meant.  
She knew it as well as he did.  "Just somebody you gotta be at 
full strength to beat, that's all.  I mean, there are a bunch 
of nut-cases in Ultra right now.  You can't... uh... you just 
need to be careful.  Okay?"

She stood before him, hands still at her sides, her eyes hidden 
from view beneath her bangs.  He really hoped she wasn't about 
to cry here.

Several quiet, tense seconds ticked by.

Then, abruptly, Akane looked up.  She wore a bright smile on her 
face, and her eyes showed not the slightest hint of tears.  She 
didn't even look angry.  The youngest Tendou reached out and 
clasped Ranma on the shoulder.  "You're right," she said firmly.

"I... uh... yeah?"

"Yeah."  The short-haired girl gave him a single, firm nod.  "Get 
out there and train your hardest, Ranma!"

"Oh.  Are... are you sure?" He really wanted to take this at face 
value, but he couldn't quite let it go at that.

She patted him on the arm a couple more times.  "I understand 
completely, okay? Don't you worry about me."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure!"

Ranma backed away, feeling both relieved and sort of unworthy.  
He felt like he was getting out of this too easy, but if she 
really didn't have a problem then he wasn't going to push it.  
"Well, all right!  I'm... uh... gonna go start trainin', 
okay?"

She made a small fist-pumping gesture.  "Do your best, Ranma!"

"Right.  Okay... see you later?"  

"See you later," she agreed.  

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth any more, Saotome 
Ranma scampered out of the dojo.

The moment he disappeared from sight, Akane's encouraging smile 
transformed into a bitter scowl.  She felt a stinging at the 
corners of her eyes, but she refused to acknowledge it.  Angry 
words paraded through her mind, but she knew better than to say 
them.  She'd argued with Ranma enough to finally realize that it 
got her nowhere.  If she pressed him on this one, he'd resort to: 
"I just don't want to see you get hurt." That's what he always 
did.

So what could she say to that?  It was very sweet in its own way, 
and she knew that it was true.  He did care about her.  He did 
want to protect her.

Tendou Akane, though, wanted to be the one protecting herself.  
And as much as Ranma had learned to be nice to her, as much as 
they'd learned to trust each other, he still didn't understand 
that.  Nothing she could say could get it through his thick 
skull.  All the words had been tried.  

It was time for a different approach.

- - - - -

Tendou Nabiki tapped a neatly manicured fingernail on the leather 
armrest of her office chair and frowned thoughtfully.  The 
speaker phone buzzed slightly as the technicians on the other end 
of the line waited for her comments.  After she finished her 
second viewing of the video they'd piped up to the big screen set 
in her office, she steepled her index fingers under her chin and 
spoke.

"Well," she said, "it's not entirely flattering."

"Uh..."

"Do we have any more footage of Cage doing something other than 
getting his ass kicked?" she asked politely.

The video technician made a disparaging noise.  "How short do you 
want this thing to be?"

"It's supposed to be a memorial piece," she explained.  "A 
tribute.  Perhaps we could make an effort to make him look good, 
just this once."

"Well..." the techs conferred, muttering to each other below the 
sensitivity range of the speaker phone.  "There are plenty of 
clips of him posing and stuff," they offered.

"How about a interspersing a few of Cage in action with those," 
she suggested.  "He did land a punch or two in his career, at 
least."

"Still might be kinda short..."

"Use slow motion.  Very slow motion."

"Yeah, that might work," the lead technician agreed.  "We'll get 
to work on it."

"Thank you."  Nabiki broke the connection and leaned back in her 
chair.  She tapped the remote control and brought up the evening 
news.  Cage's mysterious death had gotten a great deal of play on 
the networks, and she found herself somewhat curious about the 
ongoing drama.  

The cable news was showing an interview of Sophia.  Her mourning 
outfit didn't exactly call bereavement to mind, but it was, at 
least, all black.  She snuffled into a handkerchief, flanked by 
her bodyguards and agents, as the interviewer shoved a microphone 
in her face.

"I just... can't tell you how it feels," the leather-clad 
dominatrix moaned theatrically.  "I miss him so.  Oh, why did 
this have to happen?"

"So," the interviewer asked, "he meant a lot to you, then?"

"We shared a special bond," Sophia answered, then sobbed.  "I 
hope the world sees what a truly special man he was when we 
finish filming 'The Johnny Cage Story,' in which I, of course, 
shall be playing myself.  Once the film is in theatres, I think 
it will be a fitting..."

Her agent interrupted her, leaning close to whisper something 
into her ear.

Sophia's face transformed abruptly from her mask of grief to rank 
indignation.  "Straight to video?" she snapped angrily.  "Nobody 
told me this was going to be a straight to video release!  What 
kind of crap are they trying to pull?  My lawyer's going to hear 
about this..."

Nabiki hit the mute button.  

Nothing new, apparently, if they were wasting time on fluff like 
that.  It was sort of a pity about Cage, Nabiki reflected.  It 
might have been fun to bring him back for a little while to kick 
around in Ultra, under the right circumstances.  Even a loser 
could have value, if he was sufficiently entertaining.  'Oh 
well,' she thought.  'Couldn't afford to hire him right now 
anyway...'

Her intercom crackled to life.  "Ms. Tendou?" her secretary 
called.  "I have a Lieutenant Wulong from the police here to see 
you."

'Police?' Nabiki thought.  The name seemed vaguely familiar.  
"Please send him in."

The policeman moved with a silent, fluid grace that spoke volumes 
to an experienced observer like Nabiki.  He was a fighter, 
undoubtedly a very good one.  A handsome enough man, with a face 
that suggested a keen intellect, but she couldn't quite peg his 
age - late 30's, perhaps even early 40's.  His body was as fit as 
an Olympic gymnast's.  The detective's long ponytail swished 
behind him as he walked, and his sharp, piercing eyes scanned the 
room like laser sights.

Now she recognized him - she'd seen him on television and in the 
papers before.  They called him the "Super-cop," said he was 
absolutely fearless in tackling even the most dangerous 
criminals.  Nabiki didn't really follow law enforcement very 
closely, but even she knew that this man was something of a 
legend in the field.

Not that it actually made much of an impact on her.  The CEO of 
Ultra rubbed shoulders with demigods and heroes every day.  

"Please, have a seat, Lieutenant," she offered.  

"Thank you, Ms. Tendou."  He eased into the guest's chair, still 
scanning the room.

"You're a long way from Hong Kong," the Tendou girl noted.  "What 
brings you out here?"

He raised an eyebrow and smiled a bit - the look on his face said 
that he answered this question a lot.  "I had a bit of trouble 
with the new government in Hong Kong," he explained.  "It seemed 
like the best thing for everyone if I went on an extended 
exchange program.  I've gotten on quite well in Japan, thank 
you."

"Ah," she said.  "Well, Lieutenant, what can I do for you?"

Lei Wulong rose from his chair and began to wander slowly about 
the room.  Nabiki was accustomed to this - it seemed like most of 
her highly-trained fighters didn't like to sit still. 

The long-haired police officer nodded towards the silent 
television set, where a retrospective about Johnny Cage's movie 
career was currently running.  A few scenes from "Fists of 
Tungsten Carbide, Part 5," "The Terrible Tiger Strikes Back, 
Again" and "Even Bigger Trouble in Little Tibet" played across 
the screen.  

"Johnny Cage," Lei noted.  "Damn shame about what happened to 
him."

Nabiki shrugged.  "Yes, a pity."

"Had he been around here lately?" 

"On and off," she admitted.  "Mr. Cage frequently expressed a 
desire to return as an active fighter in Ultra."

Lei gave her a sidelong glance.  "But you didn't want him back?"

"I considered it," she told him.  "However, at the moment our 
company is attempting to run a leaner operation than in the past.  
There isn't much call for a designated jobber like Cage."

"'Jobber?'"

"An industry term," she clarified.  "It means he's a punching 
bag, basically."

He cocked a half-smile at her.  "You didn't think much of his 
skills, then?"

"Mr. Cage had certain attributes which made him of some value," 
Nabiki said, "but his actual fighting ability?  Please.  There 
isn't a fighter in Ultra who couldn't mop the floor with him.  
And we have some kids on staff who haven't even hit puberty."

"So you're saying," Lei responded casually, "that any one of them 
would have been capable of killing him?"

Nabiki felt goosebumps rise along her arms.  "Now WAIT a 
minute..."

"Do you deny it?"

"There's a lot of people who COULD have killed him," Nabiki shot 
back hotly.  "What makes you think one of my people did?"

The policeman put both hands on her desk and leaned forward, 
studying her face.  "We have evidence," he told her, "that Cage's 
killer was a member of your organization, Ms. Tendou.  It may 
have even been a joint effort between several people."

"That's ludicrous," the CEO snapped.  "What kind of evidence?"

"Enough evidence to warrant an investigation," the detective 
countered.  "It's an investigation that I intend to see happen, 
Ms. Tendou, in spite of Ultra's tendency to slip out from under 
the law."

"Slip... what do you mean?" This conversation had gotten very 
unpleasant very quickly, and Nabiki found herself stuck on the 
defensive.

"Ultra has a history of ignoring the law in favor of ratings," 
Lei said, his eyes blazing.  "Harboring criminals.  Destroying 
public property.  Defacing national treasures.  Blowing up 
certain well-known natural satellites.  Consorting with 
dictators..."

"Now WAIT a minute..."

"You're just lucky I don't enforce the laws of physics," the
detective said with a humorless smile.  "Then you'd be in REAL 
trouble, Ms. Tendou."

She scrambled to mount a response against this line of attack,
trying not to let her anger overcome her composure.  "In case you 
haven't been paying attention, Mr. Wulong, we were the ones who 
finally took down M. Bison!"

"Once he became inconvenient to you," Lei agreed.  "Milked him 
for ratings long enough though, didn't you?"

"Perhaps you're just upset because WE did something that YOUR 
people could never manage!" Nabiki hissed, locking eyes with her 
accuser.

"I'm upset," Lei barked, "because a man has been murdered, and 
I'm starting to think YOU are trying to protect his killer!"

"I'm trying to protect my show!" the young CEO of Ultra demanded.  
"I will not have this thing turn into a media circus!"

"Ultra is one big, ongoing media circus!  What are you so afraid 
of?"  He leaned farther forward, his voice growing more 
threatening.

This was getting too ugly.  Nabiki backed off from her staring 
match with the detective and composed herself.  "Wait a minute.  
Just... hold on."  She took a few deep breaths.

Lei Wulong pulled away as well, seemingly willing to break off 
the power struggle for the moment.  He leaned back against her 
book case and folded his arms across the front of his white 
shirt.  "I'm listening," he said.

"Lieutenant," she told him in a controlled voice, "I sympathize 
with your position.  I want to see Cage's killer brought to 
justice as much as you do.  Even if it is one of my fighters."

"Oh really?"

"Of course."  It wasn't entirely true, but it was the correct 
thing to say.  "However, you must consider my situation as well.  
What if you're wrong?  What if the killer isn't in Ultra?  A 
public investigation could cause serious harm to my company's 
reputation, Mr. Wulong.  It took a great deal of our resources to 
fend off and finally defeat M. Bison," she said, wanting to 
reiterate that point.  "We cannot afford to endure this kind of 
bad press.  Who knows how long an investigation like this could 
last?"

He mulled this over.  Nabiki felt relieved that he didn't simply 
dismiss her concerns - maybe his evidence wasn't as strong as he 
wanted her to think, and he wasn't really in a position to force 
the issue if she did try to go over his head.  Ultra did enjoy a 
certain leeway from the higher-ups, because it was such an 
economic force.  Maybe she had more leverage here than he wanted 
her to believe.

"So what are you asking here, Ms. Tendou?" 

"I want discretion," she told him.  "I will cooperate with an 
investigation, so long as it does not publicly harm my 
corporation."

He inhaled deeply, then gave her a slow nod.  "All right.  I 
think I can work with that." 

Nabiki wasn't finished.  "If you don't mind me saying, sir, you 
tend to draw the media's eye.  Perhaps it would be best if 
someone a bit less recognizable were to handle the case?"

That clearly didn't make him happy.  "This is my case," he 
informed her firmly.  "We'll keep things discreet, but you do not 
have the authority to tell us who gets run this investigation."

"And how do you plan to be discreet, Mr. Wulong?" the young 
businesswoman queried.  "If your face appears on camera, people 
will start to wonder why.  That's unacceptable."

Lei frowned hard, but then an idea seemed to occur to him.  A wry 
smile crept onto his face.  "Not unless I hide in plain sight.  
What if I had a reason to be on camera, Ms. Tendou?"

"A reason?"

"What if I were one of your fighters?" Lei suggested, raising his 
forefinger.

Nabiki blinked.  Her first reflex, as always, was to think about 
money.  "We can't afford to simply hire fighters on a whim right 
now, Mr. Wulong..."

"It's not quite a whim," he pointed out, "but in any case that 
isn't an issue.  So long as I'm on this case, it would be 
unethical for me to take any money from you.  We'd have a 
contract for bookkeeping purposes, but I wouldn't ask you to pay 
me."

The idea of a fighter that she didn't have to pay immediately 
struck a warm, resonant chord in Tendou Nabiki's money-grubbing 
soul, but she still had reservations.  "That's good to hear... 
but I don't know if you'll be suitable."

He raised an eyebrow.  "If you're concerned about my skills, Ms. 
Tendou, I can assure you:  I'm no 'jobber' like Johnny Cage."

"Your skills aren't the issue," she told him truthfully.  A man 
with his reputation and experience could assuredly compete in the 
ring, even at the Ultra level.  "This program is not just a 
martial arts tournament.  It's sports entertainment."

"I don't follow the distinction."

"It's quite simple," she elucidated.  "It means you have to be 
entertaining.  People watch this show for the personalities as 
much as the combat.  That's why we're so successful.  I can 
accept your martial arts ability at face value, Lieutenant, but 
not your stage presence.  That must be proven."

"And how do I prove that to you?"

She tapped her foot.  "Normally, there's an application process, 
but even that isn't foolproof.  And I imagine you'll tell me 
that time is of the essence if you are to catch the culprit."

"Yes."

"Then you'll simply have to prove it in the ring," she declared.  
"I'll contact Jack Lysias and instruct him to book you in the 
upcoming show.  The real reason for your presence in Ultra will 
not leave this office, though.  Only you and I are to know.  Is 
that acceptable?"

"It's been a few years since I competed in a tournament.  This... 
might be interesting."  Lei was a man accustomed to keeping his 
expressions controlled, but Nabiki could see the excitement 
kindled in his eyes.  Perhaps this would work out after all.  

But she intended to cover herself, just in case.  "One more 
thing, Lieutenant Wulong."

"Hmm?"

"The situation is irregular," she said, "but I intend to treat 
you like all my other fighters.  That is to say, if you don't 
produce in the ring, you will be let go.  I don't care about 
victories or losses.  I care about ratings and profits.  Is that 
clear?"

"And my investigation?" he asked.

"Will have to proceed some other way if you cannot hack it as a 
fighter in Ultra," she informed him.

"I can accept that," Lei Wulong said with a nod.  "So who will I 
be fighting?"

"Ah," she raised a finger.  "That will be up to Controversial 
Jack.  I suggest you be ready for anything.  We have quite a 
variety of talent on our roster."

"I've seen a lot of weird stuff in my day," he said confidently.  
"I'll be ready."

She nodded.  "That's good.  I'll have your contract drawn up by 
tomorrow, Mr. Wulong.  Until then..."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Tendou.  I'll be here 
tomorrow."  He executed a slight bow, but for all his politeness, 
Nabiki could tell that she wasn't entirely off the hook.  Right 
now, as far as this man was concerned, everyone was a suspect - 
including herself.  

She scowled as the police officer left her office.  'Johnny 
Cage,' she thought irritably.  'You left quite a mess behind for 
me, didn't you?'

- - - - -

Tasuki craned his head back and regarded in the impressive white 
building with a mixture of awe and confusion.  "It's pretty big," 
he observed.  "What the hell is it?"

"Tokyo Metropolitan Library," his diminutive companion said with 
a shake of her unruly red hair.

"And this is where the answer is?" he asked dubiously.  "The 
reason why I'm in this weird place fighting on a T.V. show?  You 
sure about this?"

"Trust me," Lina Inverse assured him.  "When it comes to magic, I 
know what I'm talking about."

She led him through the glass doorway into the cavernous entry 
hall of the great library.  A dazzling panorama of breathtaking 
architecture unfolded before them, gorgeously lit by the rays of 
sun streaking through towering, crystal-clear windows.  Tasuki 
only had a moment to boggle at the high arching ceiling and the 
seemingly endless shelves packed with books of every conceivable 
variety before Lina yanked his sleeve and tugged him to the side.  
The sorcery genius herded her dazed charge towards a small, 
unobtrusive stairway which lay beyond the vending machines.

"This way," she instructed him, leading him onward.  

"Where...?"

"In here."  

The area into which they ascended seemed a world apart from the 
stately grandeur of the main library.  Where the library featured 
bold white arches and glossy marble tile, this little hallway had 
only cracked plaster and faded, yellow paint.  The corridor felt 
almost claustrophobically narrow; it was windowless and poorly 
lit at just the wrong level, so the eyes seemed unable to achieve 
a comfortable focus.  Further, it was almost completely bland, 
untouched by any attempts at decoration or style.

The whole effect presented a subtle but powerful message, so 
understated that most people would barely notice they were 
responding to it.  In its profound, unspoken way, the hallway 
said this to any who entered it:  'Stay away.  There's nothing 
important here.'

Once she'd tracked the eldritch disturbances surrounding Tasuki 
to this place, Lina had spotted the camouflage spell almost 
instantly.  To normal people, it acted as an undetectable 
antipathy zone, designed to make them hurry about their business 
and forget the corridor seconds after they'd passed through it.  
To an experienced plunderer of magical treasure like Lina 
Inverse, though, it was like a beacon leading to something 
powerful and strange tucked away in the darkness. 

Only a select few people, nudged along by the invisible hands of 
destiny, were supposed to come here.  Lina wasn't one of those 
people, of course, but that had never stopped her before.  
Besides, destiny had gotten rather mucked up this time, and was 
going to need someone like her to help sort it out.

Lina opened a door marked 'No Admittance.' The room was old and 
musty, filled with the smell of aging paper and cobwebs.  The 
ancient wood of the bookshelves sagged from years of bearing the 
weight of their heavy burdens.  Virtually none of the books here 
had been opened for years, probably decades.  Anything that a 
person might conceivably ever want to read or reference had been 
long ago moved to the more accessible, mundane parts of the 
library.  They were just part of the disguise, like the forgotten 
corridor.

Tasuki looked around, confused.  "Weird," he commented.

"You don't know the half of it," the sorceress murmured.  "Ah, 
here it is."  She reached for the only book on the shelf which 
truly mattered.

"What?"

"'The Universe of Four Gods.'"  The thick, leather-bound tome 
seemed less dusty than the others with which it shared the shelf, 
as if a person might actually been reading it lately.  Which, 
Lina knew, somebody had.  

"'The Universe...' HEY!" Tasuki exclaimed.  "I know what THAT is!  
It's Miaka's scroll!  The one for summoning Suzaku!"  He 
scratched his temple.  "It doesn't look like a scroll..."

"It isn't," Lina agreed.  "Not on this world.  It's a book that 
tells what happened on your world with this Priestess of Suzaku 
person.  A very powerful, very magical book that somebody on this 
world has been reading."

"I don't get it," Tasuki admitted, confused.  "Hey, what's that 
blue thing doin' there?"  He pointed to a strip of paper jutting 
up from the pages somewhere in the middle of the 'Universe of 
Four Gods.'

"This," Lina gestured at the paper meaningfully, "is your 
problem."

"Huh?"

"Look."  Lina opened the heavy volume to the page where the blue 
strip of paper had been inserted.  "It's an old advertising 
brochure for an episode of Ultra," she explained.  "The guy who 
was reading the book used it to mark his place.  Only he left it 
in this 'Universe of Four Gods' too long, and now it won't come 
out."

"So?"  Tasuki frowned at the brochure.

The sorceress took a deep breath.  "This book tells the events of 
your life, at least as a warrior of Suzaku.  It's not just a 
story, it's a spell - a gateway.  A very complicated and, 
apparently, delicate enchantment.  But this brochure has gotten 
tangled up in the enchantment, and the whole thing is 
disrupted."

"Tells the events of my life?" Tasuki asked.  "What does that 
mean?"

"It means that as someone reads this book, things happen to you.  
The story progresses, and your life progresses.  Only now the 
story CAN'T go on until we take out the brochure."

"Someone read the book... and..." The Chinese warrior worked his 
jaw without forming any intelligible words.  

"Right."

"That's... that's..." Tasuki gaped.

"I know," Lina said.  "It's pretty bizarre."

"NO WAY!" the warrior of Suzaku bellowed, suddenly enraged.  "NO 
WAY in HELL!  SCREW THIS!"  

He tore the book from the surprised Lina Inverse and threw it on 
the floor, face beet-red with rage.  The flame-haired fighter 
jumped up and down on the magical artifact in fury, stomping its 
pages like a madman.  "STUPID DAMNED BOOK!  SCREW YOU!  STUPID 
THING!"  

"H... hey!" Lina cried. "Calm down!"

Tasuki drew his enchanted fan and reared back, eyes blazing.  
"I'm gonna TORCH this piece of crap!  REKKA..."

"RAY WING!" Lina barked, snapping off the spell before Tasuki 
could unleash his flames.  A sphere of force enveloped the 
Chinese fighter, picking him up and hurling him into the wall.  
The walls of the forgotten room shuddered, and dust flew from the 
shelves.

Tasuki coughed and staggered to his feet as the Lina released the 
spell, slightly dizzy from the impact.

"What do you think you're doing?" the sorceress demanded.  

Tasuki brushed away a tear of rage and glared at the book on the 
floor.  "That thing... that goddamned thing... I don't believe 
it!  I refuse to accept it!"

"Accept what?"

"How would you feel, huh?" he snarled at her.  "What if someone 
came along and told you that you were some sort of... fictional 
character?  Well?"

Lina rolled her eyes.  "Give me a break.  Like that would ever 
happen.  Look, that isn't what I said."

"But... you said..."

"Listen to me," she commanded, pointing a finger at his face.  
"You are every bit as real as I am.  You're not a character in a 
book.  Okay?"

"Then... what..." Tasuki peered at the 'Universe of Four Gods' 
warily.

"The book is a LINK between these two worlds," Lina explained.  
"Your world, this world.  BOTH are real.  It's a gateway... and a 
prophecy.  Yes, it can affect how you act.  But that doesn't mean 
it controls your life.  Okay?  Can you handle that?"

The black-clad warrior holstered his enchanted fan once more and 
stood up straighter.  "I still don't like it," he groused.

"Yeah, well prophecies generally suck," Lina acknowledged 
sympathetically.  "But this one is even worse, because it all 
went awry.  That advertisement got caught up in the enchantment, 
and it's not going to be easy to get it out."

"Why?" Tasuki asked.  "I don't understand how it made me come 
here."

"Look," the red-haired sorceress said, picking the book off the 
floor and pointing to the advertisement.  "This is for a show 
that already happened a while ago.  See?  There's a lot of bunk 
about 'red-hot action' and 'blazing rivalries' and all that.  
Maybe that's why it chose you, working on the whole fire 
connection.  Or maybe because the last page in the real story of 
the book mentions you."

Tasuki peered at the pages, reading about himself in the 
'Universe of Four Gods.'  "Hey, yeah?  That's really weird."  He 
frowned at her.  "Look, why don't we just take the brochure out?"

"Try it," she offered.

The Chinese warrior took hold of the edge of the glossy paper and 
gave it a tug.  It didn't budge an inch.  Frowning, he pulled 
harder, then grabbed it with both hands and planted his feet, 
yanking with all his might.  The paper should have come flying 
out of the book, or at least should have shredded in his hand, 
but it remained firmly planted in the pages like Excalibur in its 
prison of stone.  

"What gives?" Tasuki snarled, finally giving up. 

"It's the same reason you can't skip ahead in this book," Lina 
explained, thumbing the unread pages meaningfully.  Her gloved 
finger skimmed along the edges of the paper, but the pages 
stubbornly refused to turn.  "It's all part of the enchantment.  
You can't go on to the next part of the story until the current 
part is finished."

"Can't you just magic it out or something?" he implored.

"Maybe... but that might disrupt the whole book, and I don't know 
what that'll do.  Might be very bad."

"Well CRAP!  Who's the asshole who did this, anyway?" Tasuki 
growled.  "I wanna beat his face in!"

"Just a guy.  I talked to him," Lina assured him.  There was more 
to it than that - the boy who'd been reading the "Universe of 
Four Gods" was the brother of this Priestess of Suzaku girl, who 
evidently came from this world in the first place.  But Lina 
wasn't sure if she should tell Tasuki any more details than 
necessary about this girl he was supposed to be protecting.  
Things were messed up enough already.  "It won't do you any good 
to beat him up."

"Well then what CAN I do?" asked the exasperated fighter.

"Look at the brochure," she instructed.  "What's the last thing 
it says?"

Tasuki peered at the crumpled, slick paper.  "It says... 'The 
Lambda Championship will be decided tonight.  Who will take home 
the belt?  Don't miss it.'"  He looked up.  "So?"

"So," Lina said, "that's why you showed up when you did!  The 
enchantment took the path of least resistance, and stuck you in a 
match for the Lambda Belt, replacing the nearest convenient 
Chinese boy:  Mousse.  That's why you ended up with Shampoo in a 
fight with the Lambda beltholders - Team Samurai, at the time.  
See?"

"Oh," Tasuki muttered, trying to soak that in.  "Then... uh..."

"BUT," she continued.  "you didn't win.  And that's the problem."

"Wait... what would have happened if I'd won?" Tasuki asked, 
scratching his head.

"This brochure would have come out, and the story could 
continue." Lina provided.  "Since then, you've been fighting in 
Ultra alone, so you haven't really been keeping consistent with 
the 'story' of this brochure.  And that's why you've felt so 
strange.  You have knowledge about anything actually mentioned in 
the brochure - Ultra, television, trash-talking, whatever - but 
for everything else you're on your own.  Until, of course, you 
finish the 'story.'"

"Hey, I shouldn't have lost that fight in the first place, right?" 
Tasuki demanded, spreading his hands.  "You just said it was a 
prophecy!"

Lina bopped him on the head.  "Excuse me, but did you see it written 
anywhere that 'Tasuki wins the belt?'  Hmm?"

"Uh, well..."

"Prophecies don't work that way," she told him firmly.  "Even the 
ones that aren't screwed up.  That's why they're generally so vague.  
They set things up, but they don't subvert your free will, and 
they DON'T give you a free ride!  If you want to win this belt, 
you'll have to do it on your own."

"So what happens if I DO win?" Tasuki asked. 

"If you win, you will have fulfilled the prophecy of the Brochure 
of Fate," Lina intoned.  "If you win the belt, we can pull this 
thing out of the book and your story can continue like it supposed 
to. Everything will be put back to normal.  Or what passes for 
normal, anyway," she added, giving the ancient book a dubious 
look.

"And then what?" He looked at her expectantly.  "I just... 
disappear or somethin'?  Back to my world?"

"Not quite," Lina informed him.  "But it does mean that I can 
use the magic of this 'Universe of Four Gods' to send you back 
home. That is, if you want to go."

"Why the hell wouldn't I?" Tasuki blurted.

"Oh, I don't know," the sorceress said with a smile.  She knew 
that Ultra had a way of growing on people, and maybe Tasuki 
wouldn't be in as big a rush to get back home as he might suspect 
now.  He might decide he'd like to stick around here for a little
while even if he did win the title, rather than heading immediately 
back into his life on that other world.  But that was a matter for
another day.  "Anyway, you know what you have to do?"

"You're damned right I do!" the member of the Suzaku Seven 
exclaimed, his voice full of fiery determination.  "I've gotta go 
hook up with a partner!  I have a goddamned belt to win!"

- - - - -

Reclining in the opulent embrace of her leather office chair, 
Nabiki examined the preliminary card before her thoughtfully.  
Jack still had some blank spaces to be filled and clearly had 
some things brewing, but as usual, he kept his plans close to the 
chest.  

It sometimes frustrated her when the man pulled rank as the Head 
Booker, demanding things be done a certain way no matter what 
ideas she had.  This match with Ranma, for instance.  She'd told 
Ranma that his comeback fight would be against Iori, but when 
she'd informed Jack of this, he'd simply made a rude noise.  
Obviously, he wanted to let that rivalry simmer as well.  Ranma's 
scheduled fight was anything but a grudge match.

Maybe Jack just did this sort of thing to annoy her.

No, that wasn't fair, she knew.  Controversial Jack was the Head 
Booker for a reason, and that was that for all his lunacy and 
chaotic ways, he knew what he was doing.  He got results.  Nabiki 
didn't always understand the man's madness, but as long as she 
benefited from his methods, she could swallow her pride and let 
him go over her head in scheduling the matches.

The intercom interrupted her thoughts.  "Your sister here to see 
you, Ms. Tendou," her secretary announced.

Nabiki did not have to ask which sister.  Kasumi always made 
appointments.

"Send her in," she instructed, setting the fight card aside.  
"Akane. What a pleasant surprise.  What can I do for you?"

Nabiki recognized the look on her little sister's face 
immediately.  Akane had reached Maximum Stubbornness Level - jaw 
set, brows knit, dark eyes glittering like wet mica.  She'd made 
up her mind to do something, and woe be the person who tried to 
talk her out of it.  

"I need to do something," Akane told her.  "I need to fight 
Ranma."

Nabiki gave her a quizzical look.  "You've never required my 
permission before for THAT, sis."

"I'm not talking about a spat," the short-haired martial artist 
said.  "I'm talking about a real fight.  In Ultra."

The teenaged CEO sighed.  She knew how a fight like that would 
turn out, but obviously Akane had her mind set on the matter.  
Maybe she could bill it as a lover's quarrel match or something 
and get a little bit of play out of it.  There was no point in 
arguing.  "Well, I'll talk to Jack.  Maybe we can book it into 
the upcoming show..."

"No."

Nabiki cocked her head.  "I beg your pardon?  Look, I'm willing 
to do this because you're family, but I have enough people 
demanding venues around here."

"I'm not ready to face him," she said.  "I need training."

"All right, I'm confused," Nabiki admitted.  "You say you want to 
fight Ranma, but now..."

"I want to fight him for REAL," Akane insisted.  

"What brought this on?" the middle Tendou daughter asked, 
genuinely curious.  "I thought you and Ranma were getting along 
better."

"We are," Akane explained in a clenched voice.  "But that's part 
of the problem!  No matter how much he cares for me, there's some 
part of him which won't EVER respect me.  Not unless I show him 
that I'm good enough to be his equal.  That's why I have to beat 
him in the ring.  A real fight, with Ranma trying his hardest to 
win."

"Sis," Nabiki said, her voice unusually gentle.  "Ranma's never 
going to fight his hardest against you."

"I know.  That's why he won't know it's me."

The teenaged CEO raised her eyebrows.  "What?"

"I'll make a disguise," Akane told her, eyes dancing.  "I'll 
enter Ultra under a different name.  I'll prove myself as a real 
fighter, and he won't know it's me.  I'll be so good that he'll 
WANT to fight ME, to prove he's better!"

"A disguise?" Nabiki shook her head.  "No.  It's crazy."

"Why?"

"You could get hurt out there..."

"I KNOW that!" Akane cried angrily, slamming her palms against 
Nabiki's desk.  "I'm not gonna go out there as the boss's little 
sister anymore either, Nabiki!  I'm not made of glass!  I'm so 
sick and tired of people treating me like this, and that includes 
YOU!"

Nabiki held up her hands.  "All right, all RIGHT!  A disguise.  
What kind of disguise?"

"So you're going to let me do this?" Akane demanded.

"I'm still thinking about it," Nabiki responded, unwilling to 
concede just yet but knowing that her sister wouldn't be 
deterred.  "What kind of disguise?"

"Well... a boy, I think.  If Ukyou could do it, I could too," the 
youngest Tendou said.  "Ranma never fights his hardest against 
girls..."

"Oh, please," Nabiki interrupted, rolling her eyes.  "You still 
buy that stupid act of his?  In any case, the matter can be 
settled by a splash of cold water.  No, a boy disguise is NOT a 
good idea."

"Why not?"

She leaned forward in her chair.  "It's the surest way to get 
your shirt ripped open on T.V."

Akane scratched her chin.  "Is it?"

"Trust me on this."

"Huh.  If you say so," Akane relented.  "Well... I'll think of 
something.  I can just sew a costume..."

"Oh no," Nabiki rested her forehead against her fingertips.  The 
idea of Akane sewing an outfit sent cold shivers down her spine.  
The only reason that Akane's seamstress skills could be 
considered better than her cooking ability was that you were 
never expected to actually eat the abominations she created with 
needle and thread. 

"Well..."

"Look," Nabiki said, raising a hand.  "I will accept this idea, 
but there are a couple conditions."

"Conditions?" Apprehension and excitement collided on Akane's 
face.

Nabiki ticked off the points on her fingers.  "First, you will 
allow me to provide you a trainer.  As you said, your skills are 
not sufficient to defeat Ranma.  Or a lot of the other fighters 
we have in Ultra, for that matter."

"A trainer would be fine," Akane agreed.  "Who?"

"I'll think about it," Nabiki replied, then continued. "Also, if I 
let you do this, then you're going to have to let us handle your
new image."

The short-haired fighter frowned.  "I don't see why I just 
can't..."

"Akane," the young CEO interrupted.  "Fighting is what you do.  
You handle that part.  But image is our business.  Leave this 
matter to people who know what they're doing, okay?"

Tendou Akane seemed to chew on this a little while, then finally 
nodded and stuck out her hand.  "You've got yourself a deal, 
sis."

"Deal," Nabiki agreed, accepting the handshake.  She prayed she 
wasn't making a huge mistake.

- - - - - 

Through the florescent-lit halls of the Ultradome, the Great Yaga 
strode with a large shopping bag cradled in his muscular arm.  He 
cross-checked his list to see if he had covered all the 
contingencies.  He'd been pleased to discover that at least three 
of these Pokemon were weak against "fighting types," which meant 
that Yaga himself was the best weapon against them.  

He'd bought a small extinguisher for the fire-based Pokemon that 
James might use, and some weed killer for the plant-based 
Victreebell.  The poison types - Weezing and Arbok - concerned 
him more.  They FAQ said they were vulnerable to "earth type" 
attacks, a classification which was evidently distinct from "rock 
types."  Yaga had purchases some clay pots to use as weapons, but 
he still wanted to think about other possibilities.  And the 
psychic Mew was dangerous but still young - a saucer of milk 
might serve him better than a weapon. Further, the audience might 
react more favorably to the gentle approach with something that 
looked like a kitten.

He hoped he wouldn't have to use all of these things, but he 
intended to be prepared.  Ideally, he would like to defeat all 
these strange little animals with his wrestling skills, but he 
had watched enough Ultra to know not to underestimate the 
ridiculous looking creatures.  Once he made it through the pets 
and reached the master, he could truly dictate the pace of the 
fight.

A delicate line had to be drawn.  If he caused James too much 
pain, the audience might sympathize with the mincing little 
fashion slave.  No, the trick was to force the boy into making 
HIMSELF look bad.  The threat of pain might prove more effective 
than inflicting actual punishment.

This would be very, very good.

A deep, commanding voice interrupted him from his reverie.  "Ah, 
Yaga.  I've been looking for you."

The veteran wrestler turned to face the tall, dark-suited figure 
walking slowly down the hall towards him.  Shockwave Alberto 
moved with an easy dignity, smoking cigar held lightly between 
his two fingers, the other hand folded elegantly behind his back. 
A flicker of light glinted off the mechanical patch which covered 
the Omega fighter's right eye.  

"Mr. Alberto," Yaga greeted his ally with an almost imperceptible 
bow.  "It is good to see you."

"I have a request," the warrior of the Magnificent Ten said, a 
trace of irritation under his refined voice.  

"Oh?"

"I have been attempting to get Jack Lysias to arrange a match 
between myself and this newcomer.  This... Ultraman."  A hint of 
a smile flickered on the edge of his lips.  "However, the man 
continues to deflect me.  I grow weary of it."

"Ah," Yaga said.  "Perhaps I might speak with him.  Jack has 
begun to recognize..."

Alberto waved a dismissive hand.  "I doubt that would help.  He 
continues to spout nonsense about issues like liability and 
insurance, some absurdity about Ultraman's lack of a benefit 
plan.  He is clearly obfuscating."

"Well..."

"Invoke your contract," Alberto instructed.  "Arrange a match in 
the upcoming program.  I will fight Ultraman."

"My apologies, but no, I..." Yaga began.

"What did you just say?"

A small turn of the head, an infinitesimal narrowing of Alberto's 
single eye, and suddenly the man's entire bearing changed from 
graceful refinement to deadly, palpable menace.  Yaga felt his 
spine turned to ice.

It was at this point that Yaga remembered three things.  First, 
Alberto was not just another fighter - on his world, he was an 
elite operative of some unthinkably vast criminal organization.  
Second, this man commanded enough raw power to single-handedly 
destroy a battleship if he were in a sufficiently irate mood.  
And third, Shockwave Alberto was not a person who was accustomed 
to having people tell him "no."

"No problem, that is," the wrestler said, his voice sounding 
small in his own ears.  "I'll see that it's done."

Alberto smiled, almost charmingly.  "Very good.  Well, shall I 
see you at our weekly poker game prior the show?"

"Of course," Yaga assured him.  Trickles of cold sweat crept 
their way down his back.  "I look forward to it, as always."

"Until then..." Shockwave Alberto pivoted on his heel and made 
his way slowly down the hall, until his black suit melted into 
the shadows of the corridor.

The Great Yaga scowled to himself.  These Omega types were 
definitely a different sort of breed - he'd never had to deal 
with such people back in his younger days as a wrestler.  Ultra 
took some getting used to, even for a seasoned champion like 
himself.

Perhaps this wouldn't be an inconvenience, he reasoned.  After 
all, when he'd spoken with Controversial Jack, he hadn't actually 
said he was bringing to bear the booking clause in his contract.  
They'd both agreed on the fight with James, hadn't they?  
Therefore, he could still wield his legal clout on Alberto's 
behalf, and not worry about interfering with his own match.

Yaga decided to wait until the last possible moment to inform 
Jack of his demands, so the Head Booker wouldn't have much time 
to make any unwarranted changes in the card.  Just in case.

- - - - -

When Nabiki had told Akane that the Ultra staff would handle her 
new image, she hadn't mentioned that she was going to put 
Controversial Jack in charge of the project.  Akane shifted 
uncertainly in her chair as the Head Booker of Ultra arranged the 
slide projector and flicked off the lights in the presentation 
room.  She took a little sip of her tea and looked at the Ultra 
logo on the introductory slide, not quite knowing what to 
expect.

"Okay, Akane my girl, I've got a few different looks whipped up.  
One of 'em is bound to trip your trigger.  You ready?" Jack 
asked, rubbing his hands together gleefully.  

"Um... I guess."  She smiled nervously.

"Good!"  The spiky-haired maniac dropped his voice to a dramatic 
register.  "Now, as you know, the fighters of Ultra are a 
cowardly and superstitious lot."

"They are?"

"Your disguise must strike terror into their hearts! You shall be 
the silent hunter in the darkness!  You shall become..."  He 
paused for effect.

"...a bat?" Akane guessed.

"...a SQUID!" the Controversial One exalted, punching the control 
button to display the first of his computer-generated costume 
concepts.

Akane stared at the projection screen as it portrayed her as 
'Squid-Girl.'  "Oh come ON!" she exclaimed.  "A squid?  And how 
am I supposed to fight with all those tentacles?  This is 
ridiculous!"

"All right," Jack continued, not missing a beat.  "How about this 
one?"  He waited strategically until Akane began to sip her tea, 
then punched up the next slide.

The rendered figure on the screen wore a red leather mask and 
matching boots as a disguise... and nothing else.  Not even 
underwear.

Akane sprayed tea through her nostrils, just as Jack had hoped, 
and began to splutter incoherently.

"I call it 'Kekko-'Kane,'" the Head Booker informed her.  
"Whaddya think?"

"JACK!" Akane screeched.  "You... you PERVERT!"

"So that's a 'no,' huh?" Jack made a show of frowning 
thoughtfully.  "Okay, how about something from the opposite end 
of the spectrum, then?"

The image which replaced the rather vulgar red-masked figure was 
dressed entirely in white, robed in the traditional Catholic 
wimple.  A large gold cross dangled about her neck, and the 
computer model wore an innocent, pious expression.  

"I call her 'Warrior Nun Angela,'" Jack announced.  

Akane mopped a few stray droplets of tea from her lip and 
frowned.  "I'm not even Christian, you moron."

"But religion can be VERY controversial!  The Pope would love
it." 

"Leave me out of it," she huffed.  "Do you have anything else?"

"Well, there's this one..."

Akane threw her hands up in exasperation as the next image 
appeared.  "WHAT are you thinking, Jack?  I'd have to grow an 
extra head for that!"

"We'd pay for the surgery," he assured her.  "It's very safe 
these days."

"This is a waste of time!" Akane snapped crossly.  "I'd be better 
off coming up with something by myself."

"Wow, you're tough to please."  Jack scratched his head, feigning 
anxiety.  "Uh... let's see.  This one?  No, I don't think you'd 
like that."  He flashed an image momentarily on the screen, then 
snapped another slide into place a few seconds later.  "How about 
this:  'The Shropshire Slasher.'  You could..."

"Wait, wait!" the Tendou girl interjected, leaning forward in her 
chair and pointing at the screen.  "Go back to that last one!"

"What, this?" Jack asked innocently, flipping back two slides.

"No!  The one right AFTER this one!"

"Oh."  Intent on watching the screen, Akane didn't see him smile 
knowingly as he cued up the proper slide.  "This thing.  I 
dunno... do you think it's really you?"

Tendou Akane's eyes sparkled in the glow of the projector as she 
turned to face him.  "That's it.  That's the one I want."

- - - - - 

With only a few hours left to go before showtime, Nabiki paced 
the floor of her office, final checklist in hand.  Naga the White 
Serpent sat cross-legged in one of the office chairs, absently 
filing her nails.  There was going to be a lot of new stuff for 
the audience to absorb this time, but it couldn't be helped.  She 
wondered if this new tag team arrangement with Tasuki would work 
out - Jack's suggestion for a partner seemed sound enough, but 
you never could tell how a hothead like him would get along with 
anybody.  

Stressing, fretting, and worrying over the details were all jut 
part of the game.  

Nabiki's office intercom beeped, and she looked up at the clock 
on the wall.  'Right on time,' she thought.  It made for kind of 
a novelty when someone actually scheduled and kept an appointment 
with her.  

"Come in."

On first glance, it would have been hard to spot anything 
different about Pantyhose Tarou.  He still wore his scaled 
fighter's outfit and wristbands, still let his hair fall into 
delicate curls over his ears, still smiled with a mixture of 
self-satisfaction and general disdain for the world at large.  
But Nabiki knew him well by now, and there was something very 
different about him.

The way he moved wasn't the same, for one.  He'd always moved 
like a gifted fighter, but now his posture and stride were more 
controlled, smoother, and much, much quieter.  His feet barely 
made a sound on her carpet.  The unconscious subtlety with which 
he carried himself reminded her instantly of the policeman who'd 
visited her a few days ago, Lei Wulong.

This didn't surprise her, upon reflection.  Tarou must have 
gotten accustomed to stealth when he infiltrated Shadowlaw.  The 
thought of that, the awful risk he took, still gave her chills.

"It's good to see you again, Tarou," Nabiki said, leaning 
casually against her desk.  "Are you well?"

"Very well, Ms. Tendou."  He bowed his head slightly.  There was 
something different about his eyes.  He seemed much older now, 
Nabiki thought, and perhaps not so full of bitterness.

"I was surprised to see you at the final Bison fight," the Ultra 
CEO admitted.

Something in Tarou's face darkened, and his eyes became grim.  
"Not half as surprised as Bison was," he whispered in a tight 
voice.

"Yes," Nabiki said.  "I imagine so."

For a moment, Tarou seemed lost in thought, a memory of something 
painful, but then his composure returned so quickly that Nabiki 
wondered if she'd simply imagined the expression.  He turned to 
slightly to address the other person in the room.   "Ms. Naga," 
he said.  "So you were Ms. Tendou's bodyguard in my stead?"

"OH-HO-HO-HO-HO!" the black clad sorceress laughed.  "Indeed!  
The mere suggestion of crossing paths with the legendary White 
Serpent was enough to send the cowardly Melvin Bison cringing 
into the darkness!"

"I was doing most of the cringing," Nabiki supplied.  "'Unlimited 
Desire Securities, Inc.' charges outlandish rates."

"Hmmph," Naga sniffed.  "Such ingratitude.  We gave you a favored 
client discount, even.  And it was a most perilous assignment."

"Yes, of course.  And you did a fine job."  The Ultra CEO crossed 
her arms.  "Naga, do you mind waiting outside for a moment?  I 
wish to speak to Mr. Tarou alone."

"As you wish," the busty sorceress agreed.  She swished out the 
door, beaming happily to herself simply because she knew just 
how great she really was.

"Were you in danger?" Tarou asked after the White Serpent left 
the room.

"Actually," Nabiki mused, "I think Naga is right.  Once I hired 
Omega bodyguards, Bison stopped threatening me personally.  I 
really don't think he wanted to mess with that kind of power.  
Though I suspect it had more to do with Lina Inverse than Naga, 
but don't say that out loud."

"You hired both of them?" Tarou blinked.  "How much did THAT 
cost?"

"You don't want to know," Nabiki informed him, which really meant 
that she didn't want to tell him.  "Anyway, I wanted to talk 
about the future.  You've probably been thinking about coming 
back as my bodyguard."

"Well..."

She raised a hand.  "Even though Bison is gone, I have come to 
realize that my position has certain inherent dangers.  To tell 
the truth, I've gotten kind of used to having the sheer firepower 
of Lina Inverse around if I need it.  Definitely gives one a 
sense of security."

"I see."  Tarou looked wary, but not quite as disappointed as 
she'd feared.  

"However, most of the time that much muscle is overkill," Nabiki 
continued.  "And we are trying to trim the expenses.  I've talked 
to Lina and Naga about a new contract, in which they act as my 
bodyguards on the day of the show itself.  That's when I 
generally need them most.  The rest of the time they'll simply be 
on call if I require them."

"Reasonable."

"Now, you're probably wondering where that leaves you," the 
Tendou girl speculated.

"Hopefully not wandering the world and doing promotions like that 
brainless cat-girl," Tarou said.  

Putting the acid-tongued Pantyhose Tarou out in front of the 
general public didn't strike Nabiki as a particularly sound 
notion.  She wasn't even sure if she wanted him at the 
announcer's table anymore.  "No, I don't think so.  I had another 
role in mind.  How would you feel about being my Executive 
Assistant."

"Executive Assistant?" The Chinese fighter cocked his head.  
"What does that mean?"

'It means I get to have you around in case I need you,' Nabiki 
thought.  After Tarou had been injured and then taken leave from 
Ultra, she'd had plenty of time to think about what she missed 
about having him at her side.  At first, she'd thought it was the 
safety of having a strong arm behind her, but after she'd hired 
Lina and Naga she discovered that wasn't it at all.  They were a 
thousand times more powerful than Tarou, but it still wasn't the 
same.

Really, she realized that she wanted Tarou back for his loyalty.  
During her earlier tenure in Ultra, when everybody had hated her 
guts, Tarou was the one who always stood beside her.  When Bison 
threatened her, Tarou had swallowed his pride to ensure that she 
protected herself in ways that he could not.  And the danger he'd 
exposed himself to going undercover to stop M. Bison... all the 
money in the world couldn't pay for that kind of loyalty.

But she couldn't quite figure out how to say all that out loud 
without sounding... vulnerable.  So she simply shrugged casually 
and told him:  "Mostly, I just want someone to bounce ideas 
off."

"Isn't that Jack's job?" he asked.

"Jack.  Well, sort of."  Most of the time she got along with 
Controversial Jack, but there were still moments he made her want 
to throttle him.  Right now, the man was clearly on her side, but 
what about the future?  Jack's loyalties could change with the 
wind.  She knew too much about his history to feel secure that 
he'd always be there in the future.

She wanted someone she could trust to be there for the long run, 
no matter what Jack ended up doing.  Someone who would always be 
in HER corner.

Nabiki rolled her eyes and smiled.  "Jack's a walking acid trip, 
you know.  Very useful as a Head Booker, but I have a lot of 
business decisions to make which require a more stable mind than 
his."

"I see," Tarou said.  "In that case, Ms. Tendou, I accept your 
offer."

She tried to keep from smiling too broadly, but she suddenly felt 
better than she had all week.  "Welcome back to Ultra, Tarou."

- - - - -

In the concrete corridors of the Ultradome, the fans began to 
pour in.  With less than an hour before the start of the show, 
they milled through the aisles and swarmed the concession stands, 
eager to empty their wallets to purchase all manner of official 
Ultra merchandise.  The fight program was always a collector 
favorite - fans seemed to get a never-ending kick out of 
comparing what was planned for the show to what actually ended 
upon the air.  

Several stories beneath all the activity, three young friends 
waited in one of the many training rooms.  Each of them had been 
booked into tonight's card.

"Man, I don't know if I'll ever get used to this!" Li Ping 
exclaimed, pacing excitedly.  If Yaga had been there, he might 
have been rather surprised to see that the boy wasn't wearing a 
neck brace, and seemed to be in perfectly good condition.

Kusagano Sakura and Yabuki Shingo grinned at each other, while 
the young American fighter tried to keep from bouncing off the 
walls.  "Pre-show jitters?" Shingo asked.

"Yeah!" Li Ping agreed.  "How do you guys deal with it?"

Sakura laughed.  "You never get used to it," she assured him.  

Li performed a toe-grabbing stretch.  "At least I'm up first 
tonight," he said.  "I've been really preparing for this!"

"You better have," Shingo told him.  "You're up against Ranma.  
He's about as good as they come around here."

"Don't worry," the action-movie fan assured.  "I've got something 
planned."

"You think you can beat him?" Sakura asked.

"Er... well, I didn't say that," Li Ping admitted.  "But I do 
have something in mind.  Anyway, what about you guys?  You're up 
against a new tag team, right?"

Sakura cracked her knuckles absently.  "It means they won't be 
used to working together.  I think we can take them."

"Especially if that Tasuki guy shows up drunk again," Shingo 
added.

"Hey, was that freaky or what?" Li said.  "But I hear he can be 
pretty tough, if he's sober an all.  And the other guy..."

"He's tough too," Shingo admitted.  "But he's not the only one 
with a few tricks up his sleeve."  The quick-change martial 
artist smiled.

Sakura stood up and stretched.  "Well guys... I have to go 
change."

"Oh yeah?" Li asked attentively.  "What are you wearing tonight?"

The self-taught Shotokan fighter looked a bit nervous.  "I don't 
know yet.  "Tomoyo just sent the package today."

"Who?"

"Kinomoto Sakura's friend," Shingo explained.  "She's been very 
interested in designing costumes for Sakura.  Both Sakuras, I 
guess."

"She's a little weird," Sakura admitted.  "But it's hard to say 
no to her."

"I'm sure you'll look great in anything," Li Ping told her.

She smiled warmly at him.  "Why thank you.  That's really sweet.  
Okay, guys, I'm off.  Good luck in your fight, Li.  We're rooting 
for you!"

Li Ping and Shingo watched her leave.  The American martial 
artist let out a huge sigh as the door closed behind her.  "She's 
really awesome, isn't she?"

Shingo nodded.  "Yeah," he agreed, not entirely paying attention.  
He was studying his move FAQ, considering his strategies for the 
upcoming match.

"She called me 'sweet,'" Li recalled.  "Wow."

"Hmm," Shingo muttered, frowning at his list.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?"

"Huh?" The master of mimicry looked up.  "A favor?"

"You've known Sakura for a long time, right?" Li asked, plopping 
down on the bench next to Shingo.

"Yeah."

"Could you set me up on a date with her?"

Shingo found himself completely blindsided by this.  His new 
friend looked at him eagerly, a hopeful expression on his face, 
and Shingo's mind reeled from the unexpected question.  The 
stunned young fighter's brain simply came off the hook for a 
moment, and the first mental function which managed to reconnect 
ended up being his natural good nature.  Without really even 
planning to, he answered Li Ping: 

"Uh... sure.  No problem."

The American youth bounced up to his feet again excitedly.  
"Excellent!" he cried.  "Oh man, you don't know how much I 
appreciate this.  I mean, I really have a hard time with girls 
and all.  They usually think I'm sort of a spaz." 

"No, you're not..." Shingo assured him, his mind still trying to 
come to terms with what he'd just promised to do.

"But Sakura... oh wow.  I've had a crush on her ever since I 
started watching Ultra," Li admitted.  "She's, like, perfect!  
She's so pretty and neat and she's just so COOL, and she's a 
fighter like me!  I think we could really understand each other 
and stuff!  What do you think?  I mean, you're her friend and 
all."

"Well, I..." Shingo stammered.  That was precisely what he'd 
stated over and over, quite loudly and publicly.  He and Sakura 
were just friends.  "I think she's a very... special girl."

"So could you help me out here?" Li begged.  "Tell me what she 
likes and all that, so I can take her somewhere neat and not 
look like a dork?"

"Yeah, okay..."

"Great!" Li exclaimed happily, beaming from ear to ear.  "I 
totally appreciate this, Shingo!  With you helping me out, I 
think I can really pull this off!  You are the MAN!"  He thrust 
out his hand for a high five.

Shingo slapped his palm against Li Ping's.  The world seemed to 
spin around his head, and everything felt distant and surreal.  
"Any time," he heard himself say.

"All right, I gotta get psyched up for my fight!  See you later, 
pal!" Li Ping practically floated out of the locker room, buoyed 
on a cloud of pure exuberant bliss.

Shingo watched him go, utterly dazed, and wondered what he'd just 
done.

- - - - -

The hour approached, and Tokyo braced itself for impact.

It was almost time.

Inside the great dome, the final seconds ticked their way off the 
clock, edging ever closer to the moment they'd all been waiting 
for.  The mighty spotlights dimmed their luminance down to the 
barest flicker, and the coliseum waited in near-darkness.  They 
watched as one, the main event preceded by the drumroll of thirty 
thousand hammering hearts.

"Are you READY..."

The banners fluttered and loose papers danced as the air shifted 
from an entire mob drawing its breath at once.

"...for some... ULTRAAAAVIOLENCE!?"

The lights blared to life, the fireworks burst into the air, and 
the crowd roared like an army of Mongol warriors descending upon 
their foes.  

The show was on.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Hiroshi shouted into his microphone.  "My 
name is Hiroshi, and this is my partner Daisuke!  We are proud to 
welcome you to the 75th episode of the REAL greatest show on 
Earth... say it with me, folks... give me an 'M!'"

"M!" screamed the crowd.

"T!  C!"  The hyper announcer rattled off the letters, and the 
crowd's response surged in volume with each one.  "F!  F!  ULLL-
TRA!"

"ULTRA!" the audience shrieked in pure, apoplectic joy.

"Is this a fighting show or a spelling bee?" Daisuke asked 
sardonically. 

"It's both and NEITHER, my man!" Hiroshi exhorted.  "It is simply 
THE single most AWESOME show EVER to parade before the eyes and 
ears of CIVILIZATION!"

"By saying it's both," Daisuke pressed, "you're implying that 
this show IS a spelling bee of sorts."

Hiroshi simply ignored this.  "And by the way, folks, if you want 
to catch the second most awesome show on T.V., be sure to catch 
the new comedy hit, 'Work With Me, Daisuke!'  It's a sensation!"

His partner glared sullenly.  "You're my friend, so I don't want 
you to take this the wrong way, but I sincerely hope that show is 
the biggest bomb in the history of television."

"And speaking of bombs," Hiroshi segued, "we have some EXPLOSIVE 
matches for you tonight, ladies and gents!  So strap yourselves 
in and get ready for the fireworks, because we have a lot of 
surprises in store for you tonight!"

"But first," Daisuke said, "as part of our 'Behind the Scenes in 
Ultra' series, we take you backstage to see how some of the 
technical marvels which make a program of this nature possible."

"Not quite backstage," Hiroshi corrected, "but to a trans-
dimensional fold in the space-time continuum!"

"Ah.  Of course."

"And here to explain that in better detail is Ultra's very own 
cat-girl supreme... Nuku-Nuku!"

Daisuke raised an eyebrow.  "Nuku-Nuku's going to explain that, 
huh?  This should be good."

The mammoth screens of the UltraTron snapped to life, revealing 
the beaming face of the pink-haired cat-girl as she waved madly 
at the camera.  "HI everybody!" Nuku-Nuku burbled.  "Hi Hiroshi, 
hi Daisuke!" 

"Hi, Nuku-Nuku,' the two announcers replied in unison.

There must've been some sort of reciprocal image being beamed to 
Nuku-Nuku from through the UltraPod camera, because she peered 
closely into the lens and frowned.  "Hey, Daisuke?  What happened 
to your hair?"

The low-key announcer ran his hand across his head, looking 
confused.  "Uh... I don't know.  What, is there something wrong 
with it?"

"You shaved your afro!" the android exclaimed.  "Why'd you do 
that?  Nuku-Nuku liked it!"

"My... oh," Daisuke grumbled.  "That stupid show.  Nuku-Nuku, 
that wasn't really..."

"Wasn't really your hair?" The Ultra mascot scratched her head.  
"OH!  You must've been wearing a wig!  Well, think about growing 
your hair like that, okay?  It makes you look really buff!"

Daisuke glared at his partner, who pretended to be inspecting his 
microphone with great interest.  "I'm going to get you for this, 
man," he vowed.

"Hey, Nuku-Nuku!" Hiroshi called brightly, ignoring the venomous 
glare from his co-announcer.  "Why don't you tell us where you 
are, huh?"

"Okay!"  The android girl drew back, so the camera lens could 
pick up more of her surroundings.  It seemed as if she were 
outdoors, but the sky was utterly devoid of stars, a flat and 
impenetrable canopy of absolute blackness.  The ground upon which 
she stood was dusty and pockmarked with craters, colored a 
completely uniform hue of slate grey.  The only source of light 
seemed to be coming from just off the screen.

"Um... Nuku-Nuku doesn't really know where this is," the cat-girl 
admitted, looking about the bleak, lifeless landscape.  "But I 
know someone who does!  Here, over here!"

The camera panned towards the source of light, revealing a vast 
and complex expanse of machinery. The structure took up as much 
volume as a good sized power plant, but was far more intricate in 
design.  Immense cylinders thrust up from the humming body of the 
great machine, arcs of charged plasma coruscating up and down 
their metallic bulk.  

In front of the machine stood the person who had assuredly built 
it: the famous super-genius scientist, Hakubi Washuu.

"Hi there, folks!" The brilliant inventor saluted the camera.  

Nuku-Nuku sidled up to her with the microphone.  "Hey, Washuu-
sama... could you tell everybody where we are?  Hmm?"

"Sure!" Washuu chirped.  "Assume for the moment that our entire 
temporal universe is a singularity in the overall multi-
dimensional space-time continuum.  This space we're standing in 
is a stable pocket of hyperspace locked into orbit just on the 
edge of that singularity's event horizon.  See?"

Nuku-Nuku nodded her head.  "Oh!  I get it!"

Washuu blinked in surprise.  "You do?"

"Nope!" the cat girl admitted with frothy good cheer.  "Not at 
all!"

Washuu laughed.  "Well, don't worry about it!  The point is that 
this is the perfect place to set up the Ultra Gate Relay."

"You mean that big machine?"

"Precisely," the scientist acknowledged.  "Folks, have you ever 
wondered how we in Ultra manage to get all our Omega fighters to 
those out-of-the-way locations where they won't do any lasting 
harm to anything important?"

"Um... those big glowing blue doors?" Nuku-Nuku guessed.

Washuu gave her a thumbs-up.  "Absolutely!  The gates.  But 
traveling halfway across the galaxy isn't like walking down the 
street to your local hen-teaser's outlet."

"What is a hen-teaser?" the cat-girl asked.

The scientist pretended not to hear the question.  "In order to 
make the gates possible, you need a relay machine like this.  
Think of it like a communications satellite for a moment.  You 
have to beam the signal up to the satellite, so it can bounce it 
back down where it needs to be, right?"

"Is that what satellites are for?" Nuku-Nuku asked wonderingly.  
"I thought they were just for firing death rays from space!"

"Er... no, not always.  Anyway, this gate relay is like the 
satellite, except instead of directing radio waves, it directs 
transporter beams!  In other words, before any fighter we're 
teleporting ends up in their final destination, they pass through 
this place - the Ultra Gate Relay.  Observe!"

With that, Washuu tapped a switch on a nearby control console.  
The great relay generator surged to life, immense lashes of 
energy hurtling between the great pillars which towered above.  
Behind Washuu and Nuku-Nuku, a bright blue light shimmered into 
being.  The light twisted and expanded, eventually forming itself 
into a familiar Ultra portal.

"Wow!" Nuku-Nuku said.  "So we can just go through that and get 
wherever we want?"

"Well, there are all sorts of limitations," Washuu explained.  
"But that's the essence of it.  Right now, of course, the gate 
hasn't been calibrated.  Now, if you'll watch closely, this is 
the system I use to determine the entry point into normal 
space..."

Suddenly, a tremendous quake rocked the arid ground.  

Washuu reflexively grabbed the edge of her control panel as the 
earth beneath her feet heaved violently, but Nuku-Nuku was not so 
lucky.  With a surprised yowl, the cat girl found herself 
hurtling through the air... 

...and plunging through the uncalibrated gateway.

"NUKU-NUKU!" Hiroshi shouted in horror.

"What just happened?" Daisuke gasped.

Washuu stared at the pulsing gateway for a few seconds, angry and 
uncomprehending.  "An earthquake?" She shook her head.  "That's 
not possible.  This is just a chunk of asteroid I brought to this 
space so I'd have somewhere to stand.  It's tectonically inert!"

"Washuu!" called Hiroshi.  "What about Nuku-Nuku?  Is she all 
right?"

The super-genius scientist seemed to become aware of the camera 
again, and smiled reassuringly.  "Ha ha!" she laughed.  "Not to 
worry!  She'll be fine, she'll be fine."  She immediately lunged 
for the control panel and began hammering away.

"But where is she?" Daisuke asked.

"Um... hard to say," Washuu confessed.  "She could have ended up 
sort of anywhere.  A bit.  But never fear!  I installed a 
waveform harmonic tracker on all of the Cybergrrlz in case 
something ever went wrong.  I'll be able to locate her and bring 
her back here in a jiffy!"

"How long is a jiffy?" Daisuke asked.

The control console made a few unencouraging beeps, then began to 
flash rather unsettling red lights in several different places.  

"Er... could be a little bit," Washuu predicted.  "But don't 
worry!  I'll just get to work on this little problem.  You boys 
just carry on with the show, all right?"

"But the gate..."

"Look guys, don't bother me," Washuu snapped, her cheery demeanor 
failing a bit.  "I need to concentrate.  I'll let you know when 
she's coming back."  With that, she sent a mental cue at the 
UltraPod camera to shut off, then turned to focus on the task of 
finding her lost friend.

- - - - -

Back in the UltraDome, confused muttering and concerned whispers 
rippled through the assembled crowd.  Nobody could quite decide 
if this was just some sort of staged publicity stunt or if Nuku-
Nuku was really in actual danger.  It was not an auspicious 
beginning to the show.

"I hope Nuku-Nuku is all right," Daisuke said nervously, echoing 
the sentiment of pretty much everybody in the coliseum.

"She'll be fine!  Washuu said so!" Hiroshi insisted.  "Knowing 
her, she's already drumming up business for Ultra with some new 
green bug-eyed friends on Alpha Centauri.  It'll all be okay!"

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it, anyway," Daisuke 
observed. 

"On with the show, then!  It's time for our first fight..."

"Ah, not quite," Daisuke interjected. "We have some sad news to 
deal with first."

Hiroshi blinked, then checked his schedule again.  "Oh yeah.  
That."

Daisuke cleared his throat before speaking.  "As you all know, 
Ultra lost one of its first and... um... original stars earlier 
this week."

"That's right," Hiroshi picked up, making a game effort to inject 
some solemnity into his voice.  "The world may have known him as 
Rock Badknuckle from 'Lobster Style Kung Fu, Part III,' or 
Thruster McTough from 'Jet Pilot Commandos, A New Beginning,' but 
to us, he was always the one..."

"... the only," Daisuke provided.

"Johnny Cage."  

The two announcers bowed their head to initiate a moment of 
silence, and the lights in the stadium grew dim.  However, in 
keeping with Tendou Nabiki's theory that modern audiences had the 
attention span of a coked-up hummingbird, the moment hardly began 
before the UltraTron monitors flared to life again.

It had to be said that, given so little raw material to work 
with, the video technicians for Ultra had done a pretty 
commendable job on the "Farewell to Johnny Cage" retrospective 
video.  They'd dug through the musty archives and brought forth 
impressive footage of the action hero performing his signature 
moves in the ring, bringing to bear all sorts of immensely clever 
directorial slight-of-hand to conceal the fact that most of these 
moves generally failed to do little more than annoy Cage's 
adversaries.  Watching the video spot, with its poignant heroic 
music and its carefully selected scenes, one might almost have 
gotten the impression that Cage had been a winning fighter in 
Ultra.

Which was sort of a shame, because virtually nobody ended up 
seeing it.

Just as the clip began to roll, a bright glow burst forth in the 
center of the ring.  All eyes watched in astonishment as space 
and time rent themselves asunder, calling into being a blazing 
red portal of energy.  

"Another gateway?" Hiroshi cried.  "Is it Nuku-Nuku?"

"No, don't you recognize that gate?" Daisuke gasped.  "It's..."

"Sephiroth!" Hiroshi exclaimed.

Through the writhing portal of energy stepped the dreaded One-
Winged Angel, his silver hair swirling in the maelstrom of power.  
Shrieks of genuine panic erupted from the audience - they had 
come to see battle and violence, but having the most dangerous 
fighter in Omega appear in their midst was more than they'd 
bargained for.  

Sephiroth ignored them all as if they were but insects.  Instead, 
he turned his mako-blue eyes to the main camera.

"I know you are watching," he said, his voice rich with ancient 
power.

"Who's he talking to?" Hiroshi asked.

"No idea," said Daisuke.

Sephiroth continued to address the camera.  "I wish to speak with 
you.  Personally."  He waited calmly, cocking his head slightly 
as if to better hear a response.

The crowd murmured in bewilderment and not inconsiderable fear.

"Yes?" the Son of Jenova said.  "Very good."

Much to the relief of all present, Sephiroth's gateway crackled 
to life once more, and the Omega powerhouse disappeared through 
the dimensional rift.  Highly astute observers might have noticed 
that the red energy of his portal was tinged with a hint of 
golden light as he disappeared.  Most of the people in the 
UltraDome just felt happy to see him go.

"Well, that was weird," Daisuke noted.  "What was that all 
about?"

"How about that Sephiroth?" Hiroshi asked the crowd in a voice 
which suggested that this was all just part of the show.  "We 
don't get to see him too often here in the Dome.  So let's hear 
it for the One-Winged Angel!"

Still not certain what had happened but feeling the potential for 
danger had passed, the crowd decided to go with what they knew.  
A round of boos and jeers echoed through the stadium - not with 
the deafening force which marked most of the UltraDome's dramatic 
moments, but loud enough for the audience to assure themselves 
that things were somehow going along as they should be.

That was good enough for Hiroshi.  "All right!" he belted 
cheerfully into the mike.  "Let's get ON with the SHOW!  It's 
time for our first match this evening!"

"Our opening fight is between two young men with a similar taste 
in clothes," Daisuke informed the crowd,  "but one is clearly the 
new kid on the block."

"But first," announced Hiroshi, "let's hear it for the veteran 
and two-time Gamma champ, the undisputed heir to the Anything-
Goes School of Martial Arts, Furinkan High's own... SAOTOME 
RANMA!"

On a one-to-ten scale for audience adulation, it sounded like 
Ranma measured somewhere between a seven and an eight.  Being the 
sort who was acutely conscious of how cool people thought he was 
(though of course he pretended not to care), Ranma took note of 
this as he jogged down the ramp towards the ring.  Back in his 
early days in this federation, he'd always ranked as a ten.

Sports entertainment memories were notoriously short - they'd 
probably forgiven him for that rather unpleasant time a few 
seasons back when he'd sort of lost perspective.  But they still 
didn't think he was great yet.  Very good, yes.  Not great.

"Very good" wouldn't do, not for Saotome Ranma.  It was time to 
start changing their minds.  

"Hey folks!" Ranma addressed the crowd, snatching the ring 
microphone.  "I got something to say to you guys - it's about 
that belt I wore last season.  The Gamma belt belongs on the best 
fighter in Ultra, right?"

The audience seemed to agree with this sentiment.

"Well, that's where it is," Ranma said.  "I hate to admit it, but 
I ain't gonna fool myself.  Sagat, you may be the biggest bald-headed 
jerk in the world, but you've proved yourself.  You earned that 
thing."

The fans favored the pig-tailed martial artist with polite 
applause in this matter.  Good sportsmanship certainly won 
brownie points, but only if he chose to follow it up with 
something a little tougher.  Ranma had every intention of doing 
just that.

"You know what?" Ranma asked.  "I'm GLAD you've got the belt!  I'm 
glad it's not some dumb knucklehead who won the thing by luck.  
Because when I kick your butt all over this ring, Sagat, I don't 
want there to be any question about WHO is the BEST in ULTRA!"

That was more like it, thought the screaming fans.

"I'm trainin' my hardest now," the Anything-Goes heir continued.  
"And it's all for one goal. So anybody else out there who wants a 
piece of me - and yeah, Iori, I DO mean you - can try and get in 
my way if they want.  But if you really want to get my attention, 
you gotta be wearin' that Gamma belt! I don't care about anything 
else!"

Ranma smiled as the audience soaked it up.  

"And Ranma lets the world know where he stands!" Hiroshi 
addressed the crowd.  "He's never been satisfied with anything 
but the brass ring, so Sagat had better watch out!"

"I'm sure Sagat is quaking in terror," Daisuke speculated 
sarcastically.  

"Ranma's opponent tonight isn't quaking," Hiroshi announced.  
"He's too busy bouncing off the walls!  Let's hear it for one of 
Ultra's newest young warriors, the NeoFighters sensation and 
master of film-fu... LI PING!"

Somewhere in the backstage catacombs of the UltraDome, The Great 
Yaga scowled at the television as the enthusiastic American 
teenager emerged into the spotlight.  He noted the boy wore 
nothing remotely like a neck brace, and did not seem injured in 
the slightest.  A nagging feeling tugged at him, but he shrugged 
it off.  Assuredly, the child had merely recovered faster than 
was first anticipated.

Li Ping did not wear his customary Chinese kung-fu costume, nor 
did he bounce down the aisle like a football on the moon.  
Instead, he positively strutted, decked out in a leather jacket 
and rather expensive looking sunglasses.  

"I recognize that look," Daisuke commented.

"And you should!" Li Ping said as he climbed into the ring.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, you all know that I'm the number one fan 
of martial arts movies in the world.  This week has been pretty 
hard on me.  I lost someone who I considered to be a teacher, 
and, even though I hardly knew him in person... a friend."

A sympathetic "aww" arose from the gathered fans.

"Folks," the young fighter said, his voice thick with emotion.  
"This one is for Johnny Cage."

As the crowd roared in approval for Li's heartfelt gesture, the 
American removed his leather jacket and slowly took off his 
shades.  He turned to face Ranma, adopted a mirror-perfect 
version of Johnny Cage's fighting stance, and said:

"All right, let's dance."

][ GAMMA MATCH #1
][ Saotome Ranma vs. Li Ping
][ FIGHT!

Ranma advanced like a man moving forward in line at the bank - 
hands in his pockets, a look of ennui on his face.  "Hold on a 
sec," he drawled.  "You mean to tell me you're gonna try to fight 
me usin' Cage's weaksauce style?"

"That's right!" Li Ping answered enthusiastically.  "It's my way 
of saying goodbye to one of the great ones!"

"Oh come ON."  The young Saotome rolled his eyes.  "You gotta be 
kidding me!"

The NeoFighter's voice dropped into a lower register as he 
performed a fairly passable imitation of Cage's on-screen tough 
guy persona.  "'Talk is cheap,'" he (sort of) rasped.  "'But my 
skills are top dollar!'"

"Quoting directly from 'The Savage Stockbroker III - Return to 
Wall Street,' I believe," Hiroshi noted.

"Exactly!" Li Ping acknowledged.  "Take this!"  

In one amazingly fast and beautifully fluid motion, Li drew a 
cigarette lighter and a party sparkler from behind his back, lit 
the end of the firework, and hurled it at his adversary.

Ranma let the green sparkler bounce off his chest, where it 
fizzled out harmlessly on the mat.  "What was that supposed to 
be?" he asked.

"Johnny's Green Flame attack!" Li informed him.  He rubbed his 
hand behind his head sheepishly.  "I can't seem to get the hang 
of these ki-blast things.  So I asked myself, 'What would Johnny 
do?' Use a special effect, of course!"

Ranma smirked.  "Yep.  Just about as effective as the real 
thing."

"'You've gotten the last laugh for the last time,'" Li Ping 
quoted, dropping back into his Cage voice.

"From 'Gangland Gladiators, the Next Generation,'" Hiroshi 
supplied.

The American fighter leaped high into the air, executing a jump 
which Cage could only have achieved using a springboard and 
several strategic camera angles.  He somersaulted once, then 
landed in a crouch in front of Ranma.  Li rose into a towering 
uppercut, the sort designed to actually take your opponent's head 
clean off his body.

Of course, that only works if the opponent in question is 
wobbling around helplessly and has already had their head 
loosened up quite a bit.  Since none of these things was true of 
Ranma, the pig-tailed fighter simply stepped back and let the 
punch whiff through the air.  

Li wasted no time in following up.  He snapped a kick out at 
Ranma's head, which missed by about a good yard.  Then he planted 
his feet and launched into a punching combination - a left, a right, 
a left, a right... and so on.  The pattern was actually rather 
predictable. Ranma had dodged more dangerous attacks in his 
sleep.

"And Ranma hasn't even taken his hands out of his pockets yet," 
Daisuke observed.  

"He may LOOK like he's not trying hard," Hiroshi informed the 
crowd, "but don't be fooled!  That's a specialty of the Anything-
Goes technique - to dodge your opponent while making it SEEM like 
you're not really trying!  It's designed to wear down your foe, 
break his morale, and force him to make a mistake!"

"I think Li Ping is making his mistakes without any help from 
Ranma," Daisuke quipped.

"Would you just give it up?" Ranma chided.

"Not yet!" Li Ping cried.  With that, he suddenly dropped into a 
split-legged stance and launched a punch directly at Ranma's 
crotch.  

This might have been a surprising move if Ranma hadn't already 
seen it used a dozen times.  As it was, he simply hopped back out 
of range of the attack.  He then lashed out and kicked one of Li 
Ping's extended feet with considerable force.  

The blow sent the split-legged young fighter spinning across the 
canvas like a wobbly top.  In a rather impressive display of 
coordination and flexibility, Li Ping leaned back and used his 
circular momentum to shift into a breakdancer's spin, whirling on 
his back across the ring.  Once he'd gained control of his 
velocity, he popped out of his spin like a cork and landed deftly 
on his feet.

"'This ain't over!'" he warned his foe, once again imitating the 
late action hero.  "'Only one of us is gonna be awake to hear the 
fat lady sing, and it's gonna be me!'"

"A memorable moment from 'The Violent Blue Nightfiend Rises 
Again,' of course," Hiroshi recalled.

Daisuke gave his partner a sidelong look.  "You seem to know a 
lot about Johnny's films.  Did he ever make anything that WASN'T 
a sequel?"

Hiroshi blinked and rummaged through his memories.  "Uh...  huh.  
Er..."

"I thought so," Daisuke said.

In the ring, Li Ping pulled off what was assuredly Cage's most 
effective and powerful move - the Shadow Kick.  He hurled himself 
towards Ranma, sliding across the ring towards his foe and 
leaving a trail of shadowy images behind him in his wake.  

Ranma ducked under the Shadow Kick and executed a simple sweep of 
his own, catching Li directly on the shin.  The NeoFighter 
tumbled awkwardly to the mat, his shadowy images providing 
several entertaining snapshots of him upending and going down 
hard.  His momentum carried his body in a sprawling roll away 
from Ranma.

"Look, buddy," Ranma said.  "Your problem here is that I've 
already seen all these dumb moves.  I can see 'em from a mile 
away.  I've seen Cage fight, and I've seen as many action films 
as you..."

"NOBODY has seen as many action films as ME!" Li Ping trumpeted 
with surprising vehemence, springing off the mat into a fighting 
stance.  

"Geez, I just meant..."

"I'll prove it!" the American exclaimed.  "I'll bet you never saw 
'Enter Yet Another Dragon, The Final Chapter Part IV!'  Did you?"

Ranma shrugged.  "Uh, never heard of it."

Daisuke turned to his partner.  "What about you?"

Hiroshi seemed genuinely impressed.  "That's a new one on me, 
too!  Did that film really exist?"

"It never made it to the theatres!  It was only released on 
Betamax!" Li Ping cried triumphantly.  "A true cult classic.  And 
if you haven't seen it, you'll never be prepared... for THIS!"

As Ranma watched with wide eyes, Li Ping hurled himself skyward, 
positively soaring from the sheer force of his leap.  He spun 
through the air like a bullet rifled from a gun, then twisted to 
plant his feet against the bottom of the UltraTron monitor bank.  
"ABSOLUTE EVERYTHING ATTACK!" he roared, launching himself 
towards Saotome Ranma.

It seemed that the point of this attack was to strike out 
simultaneously with both hands and both feet at the same time 
while hurtling through the air at high velocity.  The effect made 
Li Ping look rather like a Koala bear shot out of a cannon.

Ranma sidestepped, and Li streaked by him and planted hard into 
the turnbuckle.  The "gong" of his head slamming into the sturdy 
post echoed painfully through the UltraDome.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen," Ranma commented.  
He watched as the referee administered the ten-count to the prone 
Li Ping.

"Well, an easy victory for Ranma," Daisuke observed.

"But still an exciting match, wouldn't you say?" Hiroshi 
enthused.  "A lot of incredible attacks and spectacular defensive 
moves!"

"I wouldn't go that fa... hey, Li Ping is getting up."

Ranma, who'd been on his way out of the ring, turned in surprise.  
Li Ping was on his feet, raising his hands triumphantly to the 
crowd and basking in applause.  

"Yes!" the action fan addressed the fans, tears glittering in his 
eyes.  "That was the Johnny Cage we knew and loved, folks!  He 
may not have been much of a fighter, but the man knew how to 
entertain! Thank you!"

"Hey!" Ranma cried indignantly.  "What gives here?  Did you just 
take a fall on purpose?"

"Oh, sure!" Li informed him.  He did not seem particularly 
disoriented or even very hurt.  "Can you think of a more fitting 
way to pay tribute to Johnny?"

For a moment, Ranma seemed like he was about to get angry.  But 
then a wry look crossed his face, and he studied Li carefully.  
"You're tougher than I gave you credit for," he admitted.  "Maybe 
you want to try fightin' me for real next time."

"Count on it!" Li promised. 

"Good," the young Saotome said.  "I'm lookin' forward to it."

- - - - -

Backstage, Tendou Nabiki barely had a moment to pay attention to 
the fight in the arena.  She leaned forward over her 
speakerphone, fingers clutched against the edge of her desk.  
"You mean the gates are completely down?" she asked.

"That's right," the technician on the other end of the line 
informed her.  "Washuu's taken them off line.  And she's cut off 
communication through the UltraPod.  We can't even reach her, 
ma'am."

"Great.  Just great!" Nabiki stabbed the cut-off button and 
glowered. 

"No telling how long it will take her to find the cat-girl," 
Tarou said quietly.  "Until then, I don't think she'll be 
restoring the gateway system."

"How the hell are we supposed to set up the Omega fight?" Nabiki 
demanded, pacing in frustration.  "We've got one more match 
before it's scheduled to start.  Could that old Harrier jet that 
Jack bought get to the Arctic Circle in time?"

"That thing?" Tarou sniffed.  "I wouldn't trust it to take me 
across the street."

"Damn it all," Nabiki spat.  "Well, that's it.  We're going to 
have to cancel the fight.  At least there was only one Omega 
match on the card..."

"Hold on," Tarou interjected.  "Is Ifurita around?"

"Somewhere," Nabiki replied.  "She was set to referee the Omega 
match...  oh!" Realization dawned.

"Ifurita is capable of creating gateways by herself," the Chinese 
fighter said as Nabiki nodded.  "She can just take that Alberto 
character along for the ride when she teleports there."

"And what about Ultraman?" 

Tarou shrugged and smiled a bit.  "He seems to be able to get 
around under his own power.  It's not like you were planning to 
gate him there before, is it?"

"No, that's true," the Ultra CEO admitted.  "Right.  That's a 
good plan."

"I'll go inform the wind-up girl," Tarou offered.  "Besides... 
there's something else I want to check out."

"Oh?"

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.  "Washuu didn't seem to think 
that quake was an accident," he recalled.  "And you didn't catch 
the saboteur from last week yet.  I'm concerned that we might be 
in for more trouble."

Nabiki clenched her teeth.  "Wonderful.  That's JUST what we 
need.  Our own pet terrorist."

"Not a very well housebroken pet, either," Tarou noted.  

"All right," she commanded.  "Go check it out.  I'll see you in a 
little while."

Pantyhose Tarou turned and rushed out of the office.  Or rather, 
this is what he attempted to do.  In his haste to depart, he 
collided hard with another person in the doorway.  Tarou smacked 
into the surprised cleaning lady, knocking the unfortunate woman 
flat on her back.

The jug of water for the office plants she'd been carrying 
upended, splashing its contents over Tarou's body.  

Nabiki jerked back, expecting to see Tarou transform into his 
monstrous cursed form... and nothing happened.  He simply stood 
there, wet and blinking, as the cleaning lady apologized for 
running into him.

"Tarou?" the young CEO asked.  "You... your curse?"

The Chinese fighter wiped the water off his face.  "Oh yes.  
That."

"What happened?" 

"I had it cured," he told her, trying to sound like it was no big 
deal.

"You did?" Nabiki studied him, surprised.  "You found a cure?"

"A one-time thing," he said, shifting uncomfortably.  "Can't 
share it with fem-boy and his buddies, even if I wanted."

"But why?" she asked.

A cloud seemed to pass in front of Tarou's face.  "A curse like 
that can be a very dangerous thing, when you don't want to be 
recognized," he whispered.

"Tarou?"

"I had to do it to infiltrate Shadowlaw," he told her.  "One 
stray splash of water, like this one, and it... would have been 
very bad for me." He closed his eyes and frowned.  "Only a fool 
would have attempted to go undercover with such a curse upon him.  
Only a fool."  

His voice seemed to carry an undertone of pain.  Nabiki thought 
she understood why.  "I'm sorry, Tarou.  That must've been quite 
a sacrifice for you."

He studied her warily.

"I mean," she continued, "I know you liked being able to 
transform into another powerful body like that."

"Oh."  An ironic smile made its way onto his face.  "Yes.  I did 
say that, didn't I?"

"Are you all right?"

He nodded briefly.  "Fine, Ms. Tendou," he assured her.  "But I'd 
better be going.  Lots of work to do.  If you'll excuse me..."

With that, he darted out of the office to his tasks.  Nabiki 
watched him go, still surprised about the revelation of his cure, 
but she didn't have much time to dwell on it at the moment.  The 
show had to go on.

- - - - -

In the mind-numbing vastness of the multi-dimensional universe, 
it would be harder to find a more secure location than Washuu's 
laboratory.  The building - if such a mundane term can really be 
applied to the place - existed in some unfathomable fold of 
space-time which brazenly defied all logic and left the 
imagination gasping for air.  A person would need three lifetimes 
worth of degrees in quantum physics simply to understand how she 
got the plumbing to work.

Getting to the laboratory, even with permission from its creator, 
took tremendous power.  Trying to force your way into Washuu's 
domain was a sure way to end up with your component molecules 
scattered across several different realities.  

But no matter how many probability warps and trans-dimensional 
barriers Washuu erected around her home, Mary could make a path 
to the laboratory with as much effort as it took to turn a doorknob.  
And since the power of her will guided Sephiroth, the One-Winged 
Angel stepped through the swirling gateway without triggering so 
much as a single alarm.

"Hello, Mr. Sephiroth," Mary greeted him. 

"Mary," he purred.  "I'm pleased that you wished to see me.  I 
have much to say to you."

"Are you hungry?" Mary asked.  From the stains on her overalls, 
it appeared she'd already been eating chocolate.  She seemed to 
have gotten a fair amount of it in her hair as well.  "I could 
get you something to eat."

"Manna, perhaps? Or might it be loaves and fishes?" Sephiroth 
asked with a wry smile.

The eight-year old blinked at him uncomprehendingly.  "You want 
some fish?"

"I am not hungry," he informed her.  

"Mommy taught me to offer food for guests, 'cause it's polite," 
Mary confided.  She bit her lip and fiddled with her hair.  "I 
think she'd be mad if she knew I let you in."

"And what would she do?" Sephiroth queried, watching her keenly.  
"Would she punish you?"

"Yeah," Mary admitted.  "I think I'd be grounded."

"And is that right, Mary?" inquired the Son of Jenova.  "Do you 
consider it right for her to punish you?"

Mary cocked her head, as if she hadn't ever considered the 
question before.  "Um... I think so.  When you break the rules, 
that's when you get punished.  That's how it works."

Sephiroth inhaled deeply through his nose and smiled.  
"Interesting," he breathed.  "It is refreshing to know you think 
that way, my dear."

"Why is that?"

For the moment, Sephiroth didn't answer her question, though it 
was a point he intended to address soon.  Instead, he posed a 
query of his own.  "Why did you agree to see me, Mary?  Did you 
have something you wished to say to me?"

"Um... yeah," the girl responded.  "I wanted to thank you for 
being nice to Dan, Mr. Sephiroth.  At that fight."

"Ah," the ex-SOLDIER nodded.  "Being nice to Dan.  Yes.  Do you 
know why I did that, Mary?  Why I forfeited that contest?"

She shook her head.  "I could tell you were gonna," she said, "I 
could just feel it.  But Mommy told me it's rude to read peoples' 
minds, so I didn't." 

"My mind is open to you, Mary," Sephiroth told her, and it was 
true.  He had come here knowing that it would be impossible to 
hide anything from her.  Lies and deceit could never stand 
beneath her gaze, but that did not matter.  The truth was all he 
would need.

"Are you saying you want me to read your mind?" the child asked, 
uncertain.

"I'm saying," Sephiroth explained, "that a rule such as that one 
should not apply to you.  And that is why I forfeited the match, 
though I won the battle.  I did not do it to be nice to Dan."

"I don't understand."

"I did it," he said, "because it was wrong to set a condition to 
bind you.  You were the 'prize,' Mary, but then I recognized that 
such a thing is an unforgivable insult to what you truly are. You 
are not to be bound by the strictures of others.  You are not 
meant to go meekly along with the rules which another person 
sets.  You are a law unto yourself, and no authority should ever 
be higher."

Mary gave him a wary look.  "That doesn't sound right to me."

Mako-blue eyes shimmered before her.  "That is because you do not 
yet know what you truly are."

"What do you mean?"

It was as he'd suspected - Washuu had not told her.  That was 
good.  "You are power incarnate, Mary.  You are the alpha and the 
omega, the beginning and the end.  You are the source from which 
all justice must flow.  You are the physical embodiment of divinity... 
the Living Godhead."

The eight-year old girl shook her head slowly.  "I don't know 
that word," she told him.

"Yet you know that you are not Washuu's daughter," Sephiroth 
pressed.

"She's my mommy," Mary insisted.

"But you are not of her flesh," Sephiroth countered.  "Did you 
not know that?"

The young messiah looked away from his eyes.  "I know," she said.  
"But I don't care."

"If you know that you are not born of her blood," the One-Winged 
Angel continued, "then you must have suspected there is another 
reason for you to be here.  Have you sensed this to be true?"

"I'm here to help people," Mary said simply.

"Of course," Sephiroth agreed.  "But how do you intend to do 
that?"

"With love," the child told him.

"You answer from the heart," he whispered.  "But the heart can be 
blind, and unwise.  Love is not enough for you, Mary.  You 
believe that love is a wonderful thing, but you do not realize 
how very cruel it can be, how much terrible, terrible pain it can 
cause."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

Sephiroth looked over her shoulder, towards the sophisticated 
projection unit which doubled as Washuu's television.  Images of 
Ultra danced along the screen, although Mary had politely turned 
off the sound before he arrived.  "Let me show you what I mean," 
he told her.

She turned and looked at the screen.  "Ultra?"

"Yes," the Son of Jenova agreed, his voice as smooth as fine 
satin.  "Let us start with Ultra..."

- - - - -

"Welcome back, folks!" Hiroshi cheered as Ultra returned from its 
commercial break.  "And we've got another Gamma match ready to 
rock for you!  Tonight we're doing our best to keep it in the 
Dome, so all the action is right here IN your FACE!"

"What he means to say," Daisuke clarified, "is that we can't 
afford to put on a bunch of Omega matches right now."

"Aw," the spastic announcer sulked. "You're no fun anymore."

His partner shot a glare at him.  "You'd better not be trying out 
another catch phrase on me, Hiro."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Hiroshi assured him glibly.  "Now, let's 
introduce our fighters!  We have something really special in 
store for you here, folks.  I am PROUD to present to you the 
newest addition to the ranks of Ultra!"

Daisuke picked up the introduction.  "Our new competitor comes to 
us from Hong Kong, but has been working the beat in Japan for the 
past few years.  You might have seen him in the papers - he's 
busted a lot of bad guys out there."

"And he's come here to bust some heads in the ring!" Hiroshi 
continued.  "Ladies and Gentlemen, let's have an ultrocious 
welcome for Tokyo PD's own 'Super-cop'... Lieutenant LEI 
WULONG!!"

The aforementioned detective strode down the ramp, taking in the 
sight of the packed UltraDome for the first time in person.  He'd 
fought in a number of tournaments of various caliber in the past, 
but never before quite so many people.  The noise took some 
getting used to, and the crowd wasn't even going anywhere near 
full blast.

Lei was about to climb into the ring, but remembered what Nabiki 
had said about entertainment.  He gathered his legs beneath him, 
then leaped from a standstill at the base of the ring, cleared 
the top rope with a pivoting aerial kick, and landed deftly on 
the mat.

The crowd seemed to like that well enough.  Lei smiled and bowed 
slightly in the face of their applause.  He wondered if he should 
try to say something, but the announcers began to speak before he 
had a chance to decide.

"Facing the new challenger," Hiroshi informed the crowd, "we have 
a man who's normally fights alongside his partner and fellow 
SeeD... let's hear it for Zell Dincht, folks!"

The muscular young man with the face tattoos and rooster 
hairstyle bounded like an excited cat down the ramp, decked out 
in his baggy shorts, bright shirt, and leather gloves.  Since 
he'd gone to great lengths to establish himself as a mean, dirty 
fighter almost immediately after his introduction into Ultra, the 
fans favored him with a thorough round of jeers.  

To help reinforce the crowd's sentiment, he promptly gave them 
the finger after climbing into the ring.  This elicited a rather 
robust chorus of derisive boos.  

"Yeah, yeah," Zell said, favoring the audience with a Billy Idol 
sneer he'd practiced in the mirror.  "Go ahead whine, you saps!  
I get my paycheck either way!"

And the crowd continued to let him hear their disapproval.  

"So what?" he responded, shrugging it off.  "But I tell you, 
people, I'm going to enjoy earning my money tonight!  Because 
lookee what we have here!"  He turned to face Lei, then clasped 
his hands together in mock terror.  "Oooh!  It's a big bad 
policeman!"

Lei decided to play this one cool.  He simply crossed his arms 
and raised an eyebrow, letting this weird kid thrash around and 
make a bunch of noise if he wanted.

Zell continued to do just that.  "Well let me tell you something, 
Mr. So-called Super-cop!  You can't hide behind your badge in 
this ring, man!  In Ultra, we MAKE the law... with our FISTS!"  
He reared back and punched downwards at the mat for emphasis, 
sending out a considerable shockwave across the mat.

Two decades as a police officer had honed Lei Wulong's 
observational skills to a razor edge.  In order to survive and 
thrive in his job, he'd become an exceptional judge of character.  
This guy, he decided, was mostly blowing smoke, but there were 
probably a few things he could say to really get under his skin.  
Such as...

"Hey, kid," he called out.  "Do you actually fight, or do you 
just sit there and cluck like a chicken?"

"Chicken?" Zell repeated, seeming genuinely irritated.  "Did you 
just call me..."

"First name, 'Chicken,'" Lei reported to the crowd.  "Last name, 
'Wuss.'  Subject is wanted for being a loudmouth, disturbing the 
peace, and having incredibly bad hair."

"CHICKEN WUSS?" the SeeD shouted angrily.  

"Would it help you shut up if I told you that you have the right 
to remain silent?" Lei asked.  

"You have the right to a busted FACE, old man!" Zell bellowed.  
"Now bring it on!"

Lei nodded to the referee, as if it were his job to give the cue.  
"Ring the bell," he instructed.  "Let's start this fight."

][ GAMMA MATCH #2
][ Zell Dincht vs. Lei Wulong
][ FIGHT!

Zell skipped forward, dancing rhythmically from one foot to the 
next as he came.  Lei's taunting hadn't really angered him as 
much as he pretended, though the "chicken-wuss" thing did sort of 
get on his nerves.  He'd play the part of the bad guy and pretend 
to get all hot under the collar, but that didn't mean he was 
going to charge in and start swinging blindly.  He knew better 
than that.

Lei advanced under control, sizing up his young adversary.  The 
kid had adopted some sort of kickboxer stance, hopping around 
like a jumping bean.  A ton of energy, probably reflexes like a 
snake, and from that punch on the mat it was clear that he was 
even stronger than he looked.  Lei could tell this guy carried a 
whole lot of muscle into a fight, and he had the skills to really 
hurt you.

But kickboxers tended to think fighting was all about 
straightforward strength.  It was a hard style, without much 
appreciation for just how powerful softness could really be.  

He let Zell initiate the first attack.  The crazy-haired 
mercenary threw a couple of blinding jabs, probing for openings, 
then snapped out with a kick towards Lei's gut.  The detective 
blocked the attacks, then shifted into a panther stance.

Zell looked at this and frowned.

He'd seen these kind of guys before, and never been very 
impressed.  Animal style martial arts; kung fu, on this world.  
You were supposed to learn to fight like a tiger or a crane or a 
snake - whatever.  It meant a lot of weird poses and funky-
looking attacks, but Zell thought it was all pretty much bunk.  
If you're a human, you should learn to fight like a human.  
Pretending to be a tiger when you didn't have claws was just 
silly.  

The young Seed waggled his fingers at Lei.  "Oooh!  Look at the 
kitty-cat!  Are you gonna try that lame-assed crap on me, man?  
That looks real nice when you're showing off, but on the street 
it doesn't mean SQUAT!"

With that, he lunged in with a straight kick, plowing towards Lei 
with enough power to shatter concrete.

Lei seemed to melt like a wraith out of the way of the attack, 
letting the kick slide by him a hair's breadth away from his 
head.  He raked with curved fingers at Zell's chest, slashing 
twice before following up with a fierce kick to the temple.  

The young mercenary's reflexes turned out to be even sharper than 
the policeman had believed.  As he staggered back, the SeeD 
whipped a backhanded punch against Lei's jaw.  He was off-balance 
and couldn't put his full power behind it, but the blow still 
smarted. 

The detective recovered in a dragon stance, and waited.  "The 
street, you say?  I know all about what it takes to win on the 
street."

Zell shuffled across the mat, encircling his foe.  "That wasn't 
bad," he said, smiling as he wiped a bead of sweat off his chin.  
"Let's see what else you got."

"What a display of skill, folks!" Hiroshi enthused as the two 
fighters joined in combat again.  "This is a clash of two 
incredible martial arts powerhouses!"

"This time, you aren't just indulging in hyperbole," Daisuke 
admitted.  "These two use very different fighting styles, but 
it's hard to see if either has a real advantage."

"Zell has youth and strength on his side..." Hiroshi began.

"... while Lei has the edge in technique and experience," Daisuke 
finished.

"Who can guess the outcome of a match like this?" the hyper 
announcer whooped.  "It could go either way, folks!"

Back at the mouth of the fighters' entryway, there was at least 
one person in the stadium cheering for Zell Dincht.  Selphie 
Tilmitt, a fellow SeeD and Zell's Lambda partner, jumped up and 
down and pumped her fist in the air as she watched the show.

"Woo-hoo!" she cheered.  "Give it to him, Zell!  Ooh, that had to 
hurt.  Don't let him get away with that!  Go, go, go!"

The young fighter clad in yellow put her hands to her mouth and 
shouted encouragement, but something nagged at the back of her 
mind.  Like there was something she was supposed to be doing, but 
had somehow forgotten.  

Selphie paused, thinking it over as she watched Lei pound her 
partner's head with a tornado kick.

'Oh yeah,' she thought.  'We're supposed to be the bad guys.  I 
should be cheating!'

She knew that Zell wouldn't be too happy if she interfered in one 
of his fights, but a job was a job.  The Garden-trained mercenary 
ducked low to keep hidden from the fighters in the ring and crept 
her way down the ramp.

In the ring, the match raged on.

One thing was certain, Zell thought.  He was going to have 
reconsider his opinion about this animal style business.  This 
guy wasn't just doing forms for an exhibition - he really knew 
how to fight with this stuff.  He hit with his wrists, his knees, 
his elbows - Lei could hurt you with pretty much any part of his 
body, and Zell found it almost impossible to predict where the 
next attack would come.

Lei, for his part, wondered how much it would take to put this 
young buck to the ground.  The kid's technique wasn't very 
complicated, but his instincts made him a serious threat.  Zell 
was the sort who counterattacked when hurt instead of retreating, 
making you pay for almost every shot you landed.  That made it 
especially dangerous to press any kind of serious attack.

And for all his chatter and bluster, Zell was a more mature 
fighter than Lei had reckoned.  He didn't look like he was going 
to get impatient and start making foolish mistakes.  

So it was time to take a bit of a risk.

As Zell initiated his next attack rush, Lei deliberately left him 
an opening in his guard, dropping his left hand just a fraction 
too low for safety, and hoping the boy's reflexes would do what 
he expected.

The SeeD fighter saw the opening and struck without hesitation, 
unloading a savage haymaker at Lei's head.  The punch landed 
solid, snapping the policeman's entire body around from the force 
of the impact.

"And Zell lands a wicked shot!" Hiroshi trumpeted.

"Lei looks like he's pretty stunned," Daisuke observed.

Indeed, Lei Wulong barely seemed able to keep his feet underneath 
him.  His eyes came unfocused and he staggered back away from his 
foe - it seemed like all he could do to keep his balance.  

'One more good shot, and that's it!' Zell thought.  He plunged in 
to attack rearing back to let fly with a pulverizing kick at his 
adversary's skull.

Lei swooned out of the way, dipped around on wobbly ankles, and 
then planted his head in Zell's chest like a cannonball.

"He was faking it!" cried Hiroshi.  

'Damn...' Zell thought as the impact knocked the wind out of his 
lungs.  'Drunken-style fighting... he caught me off-guard...'

Lei wasted no time in pressing his advantage.  He took hold of 
Zell's shoulders and hopped up, planting both his feet on the 
young fighter's chest.  The Super-cop kicked off with a double-
foot stomp, and Zell's ribcage absorbed the entire force of the 
blow.  

The recoil from the attack sent the two fighters flying apart - 
Lei somersaulting through the air to land on his feet in one 
corner, Zell tumbling like a rag doll into the other corner to 
land in a sprawl.

"And Lei just flattened Zell Dincht, folks!" Hiroshi exclaimed.  
"It looks like the ref's about to start the ten count... but 
WAIT!  Is that Selphie at the edge of the ring?  Has she come to 
help out her partner?"

"No, I suspect she's here to give Lei a charitable donation for 
the police retirement fund," Daisuke deadpanned.  

The yellow-clad SeeD hopped up onto the outer edge of the ring, 
clinging to the top rope.  "Hey ref!" she shouted, jabbing a 
finger towards the rafters.  "Look!  A three-headed monkey!"

As cheating attempts went, it ranked as pretty feeble.  But the 
referee had been hand-picked for job in Ultra by virtue of his 
incurable gullibility, and he took the bait.  The little man 
whirled towards the direction Selphie pointed, peering hawkishly 
through his slablike spectacles.  "Really?  A three-headed one, 
huh?  Where?"

Lei couldn't believe his eyes.  "Where do they dig these guys 
up?" he wondered aloud.  He turned to Selphie angrily.  "And YOU!  
What do you think you're doing?"

The mercenary girl thrust a rake-thin arm in the air.  "Cheating! 
Tee hee!"

"Of course," Lei muttered.

She extended her hand towards him, palm outwards.  "THUNDER!" she 
commanded, calling into being a sizzling bolt of electricity.

Lei threw himself aside as the attack crackled by.  He'd grown 
accustomed to dodging gunfire and ki-blasts, so spells weren't 
that big of a stretch.  Still, the girl had a range advantage 
with these kinds of attacks, and there was only one way to cope 
with that.  

The policeman took off in a sprint, charging headlong towards 
Selphie.  She gathered her power, warming up another spell in her 
hand, and it was clear that Lei had no chance of reaching her 
before she fired.

"THUNDER!" she called again, and the bolt whipped forth.

Lei threw himself low at the last second, transforming his charge 
into a baseball-style slide which carried him cleanly under the 
pulse of electricity.  His foot collided hard with Selphie's 
shins, knocking her feet back off the lip of the mat.

The SeeD girl went down hard, cracking her chin against the top rope 
and rattling her teeth.  She bounced backwards, tumbled away from 
the ring, and crashed head-first into the Spanish announcer's 
table (which, in a classic case of overreaction, exploded into a 
fine spray of sawdust).  

"Ouch..." Selphie mumbled dizzily.

"Still don't see that monkey," the ref muttered, craning his neck 
for a better look.  "Is it behind the spotlight?"

"Selphie looks like she's down for the moment... but look!" 
Hiroshi pointed.  "Zell is back up!  And check out that battle 
aura...""

"This could be trouble for Lei," Daisuke predicted.  "I think 
Zell has reached his Limit..."

"I ain't done with you yet!" Zell cried, his aura pulsing a 
scintillating red as he charged Lei like a bull. "PUNCH RUSH!"

Lei scrambled in an effort to dodge the rejuvenated fighter's 
assault, but he wasn't prepared for the enhanced strength and 
speed of Zell's Limit Break.  The SeeD's glowing fist hit him 
like a battering ram in the chest, sending him reeling.

"HEEL DROP!" Zell snarled, following up with an axe-kick that 
connected like a falling anvil.  Lei cried out in pain.  Another 
hit like that...

The blonde fighter pressed his attack.  His leather gloves 
throbbed with energy as he launched into the next assault.  
"BURNING RAVE!" he snarled, and the air sizzled with the sheer 
power of his strike.

But Lei wasn't there to take the hit.  

The detective threw himself face-first on the mat in a startling, 
extreme evasion.  Zell stumbled over Lei's body, Burning Rave 
fizzling out as he caught nothing but air.  His concentration 
disrupted, Zell's super-charged battle aura sputtered and faded.

>From his prone position on the mat, Lei lashed out with a two-
footed mule kick that smacked his opponent in the small of the 
back, then flipped back up to his feet.  A grim resolve burned in 
his eyes as the disoriented Zell rotated around to face him 
again.

"My turn," he hissed.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the kung fu master was everywhere at 
once, lashing out with a bewildering array of attacks at his 
powerful young adversary.  He flowed like rushing water from one 
stance to the next - crane, snake, monkey, tiger, dragon - 
letting the motions of his own attacks carry him seamlessly into 
each new posture.  The blows came from everywhere, raining down 
relentlessly on the battered Zell Dincht.

Finally, with one final spiraling kick, he planted Zell face-
first on the mat.  This time, the SeeD would not be getting up so 
soon.

Lei sucked a few deep breaths in and mopped a smear of blood from 
his lip. 

"And Zell goes down hard!"  Hiroshi cried.  "But wait!  The ref 
hasn't made the count yet!"

"I don't even know if I believe there is such a thing," the 
referee grumbled skeptically, still searching the ceiling.  "A 
two-headed monkey?  Okay, I can accept that.  But three heads? I 
don't know..."

"Hey!" Lei gasped, waving a hand in front of the ref's face.  
"Do... you mind?"

"Hmm?" the little man said, turning to see what was going on.  
With a bit of pointing from Lei, he managed to notice the softly 
moaning Zell Dincht crumpled in the corner.  "Oh.  Yes.  Um... 
TenNineEightSevenSixFiveFourThreeTwoOne," he rattled of