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            {    C R O S S O V E R    F I G H T I N G      }
            {             F E D E R A T I O N              }
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            {                | U-L-T-R-A |                 }
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            {          http://www.mtcffultra.com           }
 
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                 ][       PART ONE        .|   \.    ][
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                             Episode 88
             Written By : Grayson Towler and Zach Grafton
             MTCFF Ultra Created By : Twoflower


Many people, perhaps even most, didn't believe it was true.  
They read the headlines, saw the images of the smoking ruin 
where the UltraDome had once stood, watched the replays on 
television the following day.  A hoax? A publicity stunt?  The 
newsmen debated, the Internet boards raged with speculation, and 
Tendo Nabiki declined interviews.  

There are always a few people willing to believe any sign of the 
end of the world, to embrace it with fatalistic glee.  But most 
observers were skeptical.  Surely, they reasoned, this was yet 
another in a long string of sensational ploys by MTCFF Ultra to 
bolster its ratings and keep its hungry fans happy.  Certainly, 
there had been other "end of the world" events in Ultra's 
history - the so-called Third Impact, the spectacle that was 
called Heaven vs. Hell - and in retrospect most people had come 
to believe that these apocalyptic extravaganzas had either been 
hugely exaggerated or even entirely faked.  The world, the 
universe, had not really been in danger.

And why would it be any different this time?  Ultra was a show.  
A sports entertainment program.  Sure, the fighting was real, 
unlike wrestling - even the most virulent critics of Ultra 
grudgingly admitted that.  Undoubtedly, it was the highest rated 
and most universally watched program on the airwaves, but it was 
still, in the end, just a show.  The world did not hinge on it.  
It couldn't.  Lives did not depend on the outcome of the 
matches.  They couldn't.  That would simply be insane.

So people told themselves, in the day following the destruction 
of the UltraDome.  Some people, the most avid fans, believed.  
And some people managed to notice that every throw of the I-
Ching that day came up K'an (Danger), or that every Tarot 
reading included the Tower card, and they wondered.  For the 
most part, though, in the day following the destruction of the 
UltraDome, people returned to their routines and marveled at the 
lengths that those crazy Ultra promoters would go to drum up 
ratings.

But that evening, the tickets began to arrive.  

They came in plain white envelopes with neither address nor 
postage, only the name of the person for whom the ticket was 
intended.  They were written in the native tongue of the 
recipient, white letters on an ash-grey slip of glossy 
cardboard.

            +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
                 INVITATION TO WITNESS
             TOURNAMENT AT THE END OF TIME
            +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And everybody got one.

Every person who had ever watched a single episode of Ultra 
received one, along with every person who had never even heard 
of it.  In places where they had no television, the tickets 
arrived.  In places where they had no mail, the tickets arrived.  
Those who could not read simply held the ticket and felt the 
information flood into their minds as they held the paper.  
Fugitives on the run who had spent decades concealing their 
identities got tickets, addressed in the birth names they'd 
abandoned years ago.  They appeared in mail slots, slipped under 
doors, leaning against beds, beside plates at dinner, tucked 
into the hands of coma patients.  Newborn babies, elderly 
invalids on death's door, public figures, lurkers in the 
shadows... they all got tickets.

Everybody got one.  All six billion or so of the people on 
planet Earth.  

To witness the show, each ticket informed its bearer, one would 
have to merely grasp the invitation at the appointed time.  It 
was the privilege and duty of all recipients to witness, the 
tickets said.  Because their lives were at stake, their fates to 
be decided at the Tournament at the End of Time, they would be 
allowed to watch... and to cheer for whomever they chose.  

And people began to believe.  You couldn't touch one of those 
ash-grey tickets, with their stark, bone-white lettering, and 
hold onto your doubt.  

This was no mere publicity stunt.  Life and death would be 
determined by the outcome of these fights.  

The Tournament at the End of Time, the tickets said, but people 
had also begun to call it something else:

Final Ultra.

- - - - -

"It'll be the highest rated show in the history of 
entertainment," Nabiki scowled ruefully.  "It figures, doesn't 
it?"

She stalked around her room in the Tendo household, gathering 
papers and rooting through backup discs.  She had her own 
apartment in Tokyo, an opulent residence befitting her status, 
but she'd never kept anything of importance there.  Odd, she 
thought fleetingly.  The apartment had only been for show.  
She'd assuredly have to give it up now, along with many other 
things.

Her elder sister, former God and the first Ultra champion, stood 
at the doorway to the room and watched Nabiki bustle about.  
"You seem upset," Kasumi observed.

"Upset?" Nabiki's eyebrows shot up, and she regarded her sister 
with a moment of amazed incredulity.  "You have a gift for 
understatement, sis.  Do you know they're starting to call this 
Final Ultra?"

"I'd heard," Kasumi said.  "Isn't that good?"

"No, it's not!" the young CEO of a smoking crater exclaimed.  
"Six billion people watching, and not ONE is paying for it!  No 
commercials, no buy rates, no attendance returns, no NOTHING!" 
She was flustered enough to resort to a double negative.

"You could sell t-shirts," Kasumi suggested helpfully.

Nabiki scowled.  "The biggest Ultra in history, and I'm not 
going to make a single yen."  She ran her fingers through her 
smooth hair.  "It's a joke even to call it 'Ultra.'"

"Why is that?" Kasumi asked curiously.

"Sis," Nabiki informed her, "Xelloss nuked the UltraDome."

"Didn't you have it insured?"

A bitter, mirthless grin crossed the young businesswoman's lips.  
"As much as I could, but the insurance agencies weren't exactly 
chomping at the bit to get my account.  I couldn't get anywhere 
near the full value of the Dome and everything in it.  Damn it!" 
she shook her head in a sharp, angry gesture.  "We were just 
climbing out of the hole after Bison, and now this!"

"What will you do?" Kasumi asked.

"What can I do?" Nabiki spread her hands helplessly.  "It's 
finished. With the insurance and the assets we've got left in 
Ultra's coffers, I might be able to avoid declaring bankruptcy, 
but rebuilding? Restarting?  Forget it.  Show's over."

"I'm sorry," Kasumi said, her voice quiet and grave.  

Nabiki sighed and waved her hand irritably.  "The financial 
fallout can wait.  It's going to be a moot question if I can't 
drum up a 'Prophet of Life' from somewhere.  Xelloss didn't give 
us a whole lot to go on, did he?"

"No," Kasumi agreed somberly.  "He's not very trustworthy."

The young CEO snorted.  "Yes, well, maybe I'll talk to Lina.  
She might be able to figure out what this whole Prophecy 
business is about.  If she tries to milk me for compensation, 
she'll be in for a sorry surprise."

"I'm sure Lina-san will be glad to help," the eldest Tendo girl 
said encouragingly.

"And then we've got to assemble a team."  Nabiki fussed through 
some papers and scowled.  "Crap, Xelloss has a lot of Omega 
fighters in his group.  And Happosai!  I should've throttled him 
in his sleep years ago, the little troll."

"What if Lina can't find a Prophet of Life?" Kasumi asked.

The short-haired businesswoman threw her arms wide.  "The I'LL 
be the goddamned Prophet!  If whoever it is doesn't step the 
hell forward, then SOMEONE is going to have to do it!  At least 
I can assemble a team!  Provided they don't ask for paychecks, 
that is."

Kasumi raised a hand to her mouth to cover a small smile.  "Oh 
my," she said.  "It sounds like you have a lot to do."

"Yeah, yeah," Nabiki grumbled, rifling through a folder.

"And you won't be making any money."

"Believe me, I know that."

"Yet you're certainly willing to give it your all," the eldest 
Tendo sister observed.  

"What else can I do?"

"Without making a single yen, no less." 

A sour look.  "Don't rub it in, okay?"

Nabiki was surprised when Kasumi stepped forward and wrapped her 
arms around her.  Her papers dangled from her hand at her side 
as her older sister hugged her tight, enfolding her in a warm 
cocoon of pure and uncomplicated love.  "I'm very proud of you, 
Nabiki," whispered the former God.  "Do you know that?"

Nabiki, who did not do well at emotional moments, simply blinked 
in surprise and whispered: "Uh... thanks."

Kasumi left her then to her work, returning to the tasks of her 
own.  Nabiki continued to sort through the papers and files in 
her room, but her heart did not feel so heavy, and a little 
smile flickered across her face now and again.  

- - - - -

The problem, as it turned out, was not finding someone who was 
willing to step forth and claim to be the Prophet of Life.  The 
problem was figuring out which one of the "applicants" was the 
real McCoy.  

Tarou had rented Nabiki a small office and boardroom in Tokyo, 
using his own fairly substantial savings acquired from his time 
in her service.  It was a small gesture, really, but one for 
which Nabiki felt profoundly grateful.  The move turned out to 
be very fortuitous, because the CEO of Ultra found herself at 
the center of a publicity storm the likes of which even she had 
never seen.  She would not have wanted to conduct business from 
her home, subjecting her family and her neighbors in Nerima to 
the frantic circus.

She was besieged by Prophets of Life.  They sprouted up like 
mutant weeds from every religion, every ethnic group, every 
crackpot cult from all over the world.  Some were self-declared, 
and some were nominated by fans.  Every fighter in Ultra, 
including those who had joined Xelloss, had rabid fans who were 
declaring their favorite to be the true Prophet of Life.  
Homeless waifs staggered out of the gutters, with messages 
declaring their Prophethood misspelled on dirty cardboard signs.  
Religious factions snarled and raged at one another about which 
faith would produce the true Prophet.  Television talk show 
hosts sold t-shirts to promote themselves as the genuine Prophet 
of Life.  Bombastic radio personalities bleated their cases over 
the airwaves to their drone-like fans.  Billionaires from Texas 
with large ears came forth, saying that the people had mandated 
that they must be the Prophet.  

They swarmed into Tokyo.  They clogged the phone lines.  They 
bombarded her with e-mails.

"How," Nabiki turned to Tarou in confusion as the phone blared 
its shrill song, "am I going to find the real Prophet in all 
this mess?"

- - - - - 

From his own unseen vantage point, Xelloss watched the chaos 
unfold and smiled, and smiled, and smiled.  

- - - - -

Halfway around the world in the Vatican, an Archbishop 
tentatively approached the Pope.  He'd been depressed since the 
last UltraRage, everybody knew, when he and the millions of 
other fans of Mr. Satan had seen their hero declare himself to 
be a selfish, insecure asshole on national television.  But that 
was a far cry from what had happened at ReBoot.  

"Your Holiness," the Archbishop said quietly within the 
candlelit halls of the great Cathedral, "may I speak to you for 
a moment?"

"Of course," the old pontiff replied, gentle sadness in his 
venerable voice.

"It's about this... Prophet of Life business," the Archbishop 
said.  "Many of our scholars think you should step forth and 
take the role."

The Pope looked genuinely surprised.  "Me?"

"Well, Your Holiness, you ARE the world's most prominent Ultra 
fan," the Archbishop explained.  "And you have a great deal of 
credibility and influence.  There are so many other false 
Prophets out there now, someone needs to step forward and bring 
order.  If not you, then perhaps someone you would choose, or 
endorse..."  He trailed off.

The Pope favored him with a tired smile.  "I am not this... 
Prophet of Life," he said softly.  "I would know it if I were."

"But..."

"The true Prophet will step forth and be known when the time is 
right," he said.  "Have faith."

"Time is running out," the Archbishop whispered urgently.  

"I know," the Pope replied.

The Archbishop stood in silence before his pontiff, uncertain of 
what to say next.  He noticed a small picture of Mr. Satan on 
the altar, tucked in next to one of the golden candlesticks.  
The former Earth's Greatest Hero posed with both biceps flexed, 
his afro bathed in the glow of spotlights, a brilliant smile 
beneath his moustache.  

The Pope noticed where his follower's gaze had fallen.  "Yes," 
he said.  "Do you know, I think I have some small idea of how 
our Lord felt when Lucifer betrayed him."

The Archbishop swallowed and nodded.

"He cast down his most beautiful angel," the Pope said quietly.  
"He had no choice.  Yet I do not think He ever, even for a 
moment, stopped loving the fallen."

- - - - -

Three days left before the tournament, and still Nabiki had not 
found a Prophet of Life who suited the role.  The fighters from 
Ultra had come when she called them at least, and they ringed 
her little office to keep the crowds at bay.  The streets were 
full of the raving, the fanatical, and the desperate, but even a 
throng like that found it hard to force their way past the likes 
of Gally and Bean Bandit.  Lei Wulong was in charge of the 
police efforts for crowd control.

Still, every so often a few uninvited guests managed to slip by 
the barricades, and it was left to Tarou to deal with them.

"He's DEAD, you idiots!" Tarou shouted at a small group of 
black-suited, earnest-looking young men as he shoved them rudely 
towards the door.  "For the hundredth time, L. Ron Hubbard CAN'T 
be the Prophet of Life!"

"A technicality!" the leader of the group screeched.  "You're 
just persecuting us!"

"Give it a REST!" Tarou grunted, putting his shoulder into the 
effort of trying to shove the flailing mass of humanity back out 
the office door.

"Okay, how about John Travolta?" another offered.

"NO!" the Chinese fighter snarled, finally shoving them through 
the portal, then slamming the door quickly shut.  "Damn!" he 
gasped.  "How the hell do they keep getting in here?"

"Persistent bunch," Nabiki observed, hammering the much-abused 
Delete key on her laptop as she scanned her e-mail.  There was a 
sizable contingent on the Internet that seemed to want Lain as 
the Prophet of Life, but Nabiki had her doubts.  Lain was a nice 
girl and a computer dynamo, but she was a shrinking violet when 
it came to dealing with other human beings.  That girl, as some 
sort of messiah?  Not likely.  

Something rapped on the door.  Tarou whirled and glared.  "Now 
what?"

"Yoo-hoo!" came a familiar voice from outside.  "I believe I 
have an appointment?"

"Lina!" Nabiki cried with relief, recognizing the voice at once.  
She'd been trying to reach the young sorceress since this mess 
had begun, but Lina Inverse had been infuriatingly out of touch.  
"Let her in, Tarou."

Her assistant did as he was bid, and the young sorcery genius 
entered Nabiki's cluttered domain.  Nabiki was a little 
surprised to see that Inverse had her newest referee in tow, 
Washuu's daughter Mary, but gave it little thought.  

"Where have you been?" she demanded of the red-headed sorceress.  
"I've been trying like crazy to get a hold of you."

"Doing some research," Lina replied, in an enigmatic tone.  

"Well, I need you here," Nabiki informed her.  "We have GOT to 
sort out this business with the Prophet of Life, and we've got 
to do it now.  You're the resident expert on magic here, so I 
think between the two of us we can come up with someone..."

"It's Mary," Lina said simply. 

Nabiki raised an eyebrow.  "Who, her?" she said, gesturing at 
the teenaged girl standing quietly in her striped shirt.  "Hm.  
Hmm.  Interesting idea, Lina.  Yes... I think you're onto 
something.  One of the referees would be a good choice.  But not 
her, of course."

Mary looked startled, and Lina cocked her head.  "Why not?"

"Ifurita might do," Nabiki said, warming to the idea.  "And Son 
Goku might do even better, if I can get a hold of him in time.  
Krillin should know where he is.  Tarou, could you look up 
Krillin's cell phone number?  I need to..."

"I think Mary is the one you want," Lina told her.

Still not responding to the certainty in Lina's voice, Nabiki 
shook her head sharply.  "No, no.  Hardly anybody knows her.  
She's only been with the company for a little while, and she's 
too young!  People won't follow her.  Plus, she's a lousy ref."

Mary didn't want to get sidetracked, but she couldn't contain 
herself at that comment.  "What?  Lousy?" she said, her mouth 
dropping open in disbelief.

"Look, I hired you as a favor to Washuu," Nabiki said, trying to 
be gentle but feeling too harried to soften her words much.  
"And I was thinking of phasing you out in the second half of the 
season.  You've got a nice screen face, but otherwise you're not 
getting the job done.  Weren't," she corrected, realizing that 
Ultra was, for all intents and purposes, past tense.

"How have I been a lousy ref?" Mary demanded, deeply stung.

"You enforce the rules," Nabiki told her succinctly.  "You run 
clean fights."

"What?" the girl gasped.  "What's wrong with..."

Nabiki silenced her with a wave of the hand.  "You fail to grasp 
the purpose of the referee in Ultra.  The refs are there to get 
distracted.  They're there to be ignored.  They're supposed to 
be ineffectual, muddled, and useless, except when they start and 
end the matches.  If the rules are enforced, it's the other 
fighters who come in and make it happen.  Why do you think I 
always hire those pitiful wrecks to wear the stripes?"

"But..." Mary stammered, "but... Ifurita... and Son Goku aren't 
like that!"

"Omega's different," the young CEO clarified.  "The power level 
is so high that sometimes you need someone to keep it from 
getting out of control.  Guys like Sephiroth and the Orochi need 
watching.  I use Krillin for the safer matches, you'll notice.  
He was quite a find, the goofball."

"You hire bad referees... on purpose?" Mary asked, turning this 
over in her mind.  "But I always thought..."

"What, that I'm incompetent?" Nabiki asked, a smile like the 
edge of a well-honed dagger on her lips.  "That I wasn't aware 
that I was hiring myopic, addle-pated losers with the attention 
span of a concussed bee to referee my fights?  That until you 
came along, it simply never occurred to me to run clean matches?  
Is that it?"

"No, I..."

Nabiki didn't really intend to be hostile, but the immense 
stress of being, by default, appointed the gatekeeper who would 
choose the all-important Prophet of Life had served to sharpen 
her tongue.  "Kiddo, you may have watched Ultra every week, but 
it seems you never managed to understand it.  Ultra is a haven 
for cheating, a fertile ground for backstabbing and betrayal.  
That's how the bad guys show they're bad.  And that's how the 
good guys show they're good - if they can win without giving in 
to the temptation to cheat, and if they can pull off a victory 
in SPITE of the fact that their opponent is going to cheat up a 
storm, then they've really achieved something."

'Free will,' thought Mary, dumbstruck.

"Clean matches?" the short-haired Tendo girl snorted.  "Please.  
Nobody wants to see Shingo play rock-paper-scissors with his 
pals out in the ring.  This isn't boxing.  This isn't sumo.  
This is Ultra, little girl, and there's a REASON it's the 
greatest sporting event in history."

And there it was, Mary thought.  'Kiddo' and 'little girl.'  
Lina had warned her that she'd run into this problem if she took 
the responsibility of being the Prophet of Life, and here was 
her first test.  Mary was young and unproven.  She'd told Lina 
that it shouldn't matter - the truth was the truth, no matter 
who spoke it.

Not so, Lina had said.  A battle-hardened general can address 
his troops and rouse them to fight to the death, but a teenaged 
kid with acne on his nose giving the same speech, word for word, 
would meet nothing but jeers and mockery.  What you say means 
less than who you are, Lina had told her, and she would have to 
get used to that idea if she were to get anywhere.  People 
wouldn't trust her unless she proved she was worthy of their 
trust.  

Lina Inverse was young, too, but she was a sorcery genius.  It 
wasn't just about the power she could wield, it was the fact 
that she could master spells in a day that other scholars 
couldn't nail down with a lifetime of study.  That sort of 
attainment in one so young sometimes generated resentment and 
envy, but it also demanded respect.  Lina had faced down gods, 
saved the world, and held the office of Supreme Being.  Nobody 
with any sense thought of her as just a kid.

Tendo Nabiki was the same way, in her own sphere.  When she'd 
first taken the helm of Ultra, most people had assumed that a 
teenaged greenhorn like her would make a shoddy mess of the 
thing.  Nabiki had proved them wrong, demonstrated that in spite 
of her age, she could take command and run the most demanding 
and successful business in the world.  

If Mary had kept her powers, she could have created that sense 
of authority through miracles and wonders.  She could still say 
that she was the Living Godhead, and Lina would back her up, but 
she didn't want to do that.  It would be effectively the same 
thing as using divine power to prove she was right.  She had to 
think of some other way to convince Nabiki that she was the 
right choice.

"No, kid," Nabiki continued, "sorry.  Very kind of you to offer, 
but I think I'm going with Goku, or maybe Ifurita."

"Son Goku," Mary said, trying to keep her voice quiet and calm, 
"would assemble a team of veteran warriors who shared his 
fighting spirit.  Ifurita would analyze the enemy roster and 
choose fighters who would most effectively neutralize the 
opponent's strengths.  And both of them would lose the 
tournament."

Nabiki folded her arms and raised both eyebrows.  "Oh really?  
What makes you so sure?"

"Because that's not what is needed," Mary told her.  "The skills 
and experience of the fighters are not the issue.  Their hearts 
and spirits are."

The young CEO scowled.  "Pop psychology isn't going to win this 
fight, girl..."

"They must represent the people they are defending," Mary 
continued.  "Young and old, virtuous and self-centered, romantic 
and practical.  The fights will take place between individuals, 
but the tournament can only be won by a team."

Nabiki pursed her lips.  "A team."

"Yes," Mary said, keeping her eyes locked on Nabiki's.  "They 
must be greater than the sum of their parts.  They must pull 
together from their diversity and division, and become something 
which can stand against evil."

"I don't know," Nabiki said doubtfully, but her brusque scorn 
had slowly begun to evaporate as Mary spoke.  "I think we should 
just pack the roster with the toughest Omega fighters we can 
find and roll through whatever's in the way."

Mary shook her head.  "No.  Power isn't the issue here.  You're 
thinking along the wrong lines."

"How do you know?"

Lina Inverse stepped in to field the question.  "Think about it.  
Xelloss is no fool.  Why didn't he do what you just suggested?  
Make a team full of powerhouses like Sephiroth and Alberto?"

Nabiki ran her finger under her lips thoughtfully.  It was a 
good question, one she hadn't considered.  Xelloss certainly had 
his share of world-busting dynamos, it was true, but he also had 
types like Mr. Satan and Bulleta, who were ants compared to the 
Omega demigods.  "So you're saying..." 

"That when he went recruiting," Lina picked up, "he wasn't 
looking for a particular power level, but rather a personality 
type... or types.  And that's what our Prophet of Life is going 
to have to do, too."

"Yes," Mary agreed.  "Maybe I was a bad referee, Nabiki-san.  
But I know what is needed for this tournament.  I... I am the 
Prophet of Life."

A long, agonizing silence stretched out as Nabiki pondered the 
girl clad in stripes, her hands folded under her chin.  Outside, 
the throng raved and ranted, while the police and Ultra fighters 
struggled to keep everything under control.  Inside the tiny 
rented office space, the fate of the world hung in the balance.

Finally, Nabiki threw up her hands and looked at Lina.  "If 
you're sure," she said in exasperation, "then fine.  You're the 
expert.  And we're out of time."

Mary let out a huge sigh, only now realizing she had been 
holding her breath the whole time.  It wasn't quite the victory 
she'd hoped for - she suspected that it was more Lina's 
credibility than her own words which had tipped the scales - but 
it would have to do. 

Nabiki turned to Tarou.  "We're getting out of this office," she 
told him.  "No way to get anything done here.  Alert the 
fighters and tell them to convene at the UltraDome... what's 
left of it."  She pivoted to face Mary.  "Can you reach your 
mother?"

"Yes," Mary said.  

"Good.  Tell her to get a portal ready and clear some space for 
visitors in her lab," Nabiki instructed.  "Time to duck out of 
the limelight until the big fight.  I don't want Xelloss 
interfering with what we have to do.  You, Ms. Prophet of Life," 
she pointed a finger at Mary, and the young messiah saw that 
Nabiki's hand was trembling, "have got a team to choose."

"I won't fail you," she said.  She only hoped that she could 
live up to her own promises.

- - - - -

Xelloss watched.  He could have used scrying magic to see what 
he wanted to see, but he had a more interesting, more ironic way 
that he liked better.  The small fleet of UltraPod cameras, 
rescued before the destruction of the UltraDome and now serving 
under his control, flew hither and yon with their cloaking 
devices engaged to find him the images he needed.  He simply 
floated above the earth, the large control console with its 
multiple monitors in front of him, and watched.

He knew he probably should pay more attention to minding the 
troops right now.  He had an UltraPod back at the fortress where 
they were all staying, but that was hardly enough.  Some of his 
recruits were crafty, dangerous sorts, and bore scrutiny.  
Treachery ran in their blood, which of course made them ideal 
for his purposes.  Still, he couldn't afford to have them try to 
betray him before the Tournament was well and truly won.

The fortress he had chosen to house them... he had to smile 
about that.  He hadn't wasted the power to build the castle, 
tucked away in its hellish little pocket dimension.  Why bother?  
There were always demons and warlocks and necromancers building 
sanctums just like it all over the universe, scheming their 
schemes and mustering their legions.  It was much more efficient 
to simply swoop in, knock off the head honcho before he knew 
what hit him, and take the castle for yourself.  You could even 
rent it out to the next would-be conqueror when you were done.

He should be back there, keeping an eye on them, but Xelloss 
couldn't resist coming here to Earth.  The tides of panic and 
desperation which had swept the globe after his announcement at 
the last ReBoot, these were like a flood of ambrosia for a 
Mazoku.  He drank deep as the UltraPods brought him image after 
delightful image of anarchy, chaos, and despair.  

The main monitor, though, was showing him something a bit less 
to his liking.  It seemed that the enemy had begun to act.

Xelloss leaned forward, examining the images and the data 
readouts.  The fighters of Ultra were on the move, finally.  
Nabiki and her crew were leaving the office, and she was 
summoning what staff remained to her.  They seemed to be heading 
towards the remains of the UltraDome.

And was that Lina?  Yes, no mistake.  She'd come back, finally.  
He wondered where she'd been off to.  Tricky Lina, he thought.  
Clever, lucky Lina Inverse.  Always a worthy challenge.

The energy readings on the UltraPod display told him that a 
gateway was forming, one large enough to accommodate the entire 
remaining Ultra roster.  Xelloss let out a small sigh.  They 
would be heading to Washuu's trans-dimensional laboratory, he 
guessed, and there even he couldn't hope to spy on them.   They 
hadn't announced their Prophet of Life yet, but he was willing 
to guess they'd chosen one.  Was it Lina?  He hoped so.  That 
would be quite delightful.

Oh well, he thought resignedly.  That's just about that.  Once 
the Ultra crew had left for Washuu's little sanctuary, he 
wouldn't have any excuse to stay.  Monitoring the movements of 
his enemy was a good rationalization for hanging about Earth and 
taking in the sights and sounds, but when they were gone, he'd 
really have to go back and keep his eye on his own little bunch.  

Still, it would be a few more hours before the Ultra fighters 
all convened and made their exit.  A few more hours to soak it 
all up.  Xelloss turned his attention back to the monitors and 
smiled.

- - - - -

Nobody but Xelloss had met the maker of the fortress which the 
Mazoku had commandeered for the headquarters of his team, but it 
was clear that whoever it had been had possessed a keen sense of 
classical villainous architecture.  The pocket dimension in 
which the citadel resided was a bleak, pitted landscape, grey 
and utterly desolate, punctuated by jetting geysers and rivers 
of lava.  Upon the tallest spire stabbing up from the blighted 
terrain stood a castle which said, in the clearest visual terms, 
that this was a place of evil.

The stone was black.  The towers were tall, thin, and topped 
with sharpened battlements.  The gates were forged of thick, 
dark iron.  The halls were narrow and tall - not a single 
ceiling under thirty feet high in the entire place.  Perilous 
arches, slit windows, and heavy chains could be found wherever 
one looked.  The motif was deadly, yet elegant in a sort of 
gothic way.  It did not have a skull for a main gate, which 
would have been overkill, but otherwise no expense had been 
spared to give the profound impression that a lot of things were 
going on in this castle, and not one of them was in the least 
bit wholesome.

M. Bison thought it hopelessly cliched.  Shockwave Alberto 
rather liked it.  Dark Schneider found it to be adequate.  
Sephiroth, son of Jenova, simply didn't care.

The four of these members of the newly-formed team of the 
Prophet of Destruction stood together upon the highest 
battlement, equilaterally spaced, facing one another.  

M. Bison, who had arranged this meeting, spoke first.  "Xelloss 
should be away for a bit longer, if I'm correct about his 
patterns.  Sephiroth, your consort has taken care of that camera 
pod?"

The One-Winged Angel replied in a voice as smooth as velvet, as 
dark as the heart of the abyss.  "Of course."

"Lord Alberto," Bison turned to address the black-suited 
enforcer of the Magnificent Ten, "you are certain that no other 
surveillance devices have been left to vex us?"

The torchlight flickered off Alberto's mechanical eyepatch, 
which contained a host of phenomenally sophisticated scanning 
devices.  The champion of Big Fire simply let out a little 
chuckle as his answer.

"Dark Schneider," Bison turned at last to the legendary Exploder 
Wizard, who lounged languidly against one of the buttresses and 
sipped red wine from a golden goblet.  "You are confident that 
no magical scrying has been set in place, then?"

"You question my competence, Bison?" the handsome mage 
challenged with a raised eyebrow.  

"Of course not, my friend," the former ShadowLaw warlord said, 
his teeth grinding into his infamous gravel-crushing smile.  
"Merely seeing to the formalities before we begin this meeting.  
We have matters of import to discuss, gentlemen."

Dark Schneider sniffed and allowed himself a slight roll of the 
eyes.  "Matters of import?  You mean the fact that we will 
resolve to unite against Xelloss if he tries to betray us?  I 
would think that was self-evident."

Bison held his grin, though the casual disdain in the man's 
voice brought a tinge of scarlet rage to the corners of his 
vision.  'Remember your position,' he warned himself.  'Things 
have changed for you, and you cannot afford to alienate these 
men.   Not now.'

Indeed, things had changed quite a bit.  His power base, the 
organization of ShadowLaw which he had spent most of his life 
building, had been blasted out from under him.  The arsenal of 
technology, the teams of scientists, the legions of lackeys and 
minions... they were all things of the past.  He was, for the 
moment, on his own.

He was also acutely aware that any one of these three could 
squash him like a bug if they chose.  He still had his 
formidable strength, his battle skill, and his Psycho Power, but 
he knew his limits.  The Psycho Drive which had been built to 
enhance his abilities to god-like levels had been blown to ashes 
and scattered to the wind.  Without it, he was no match for the 
likes of these powerhouses.

Irritating, he thought.  

His only solace was that these men, hopefully, did not know how 
limited he was without the technology of ShadowLaw to back him 
up.  He could not afford to have them think he was weak.  That 
would simply not do at all.

'It will all change,' he assured himself.  If Xelloss could be 
kept in line, if the prize that he had promised could really be 
won (with or without the Mazoku remaining alive to see it, Bison 
thought), then he would have a world of his own.  A ShadowWorld, 
he thought, his grin widening slightly.  A new sanctuary.  A 
power base.  

A starting point.

Bison knew his own black heart well enough to admit that 
rulership was, in the end, not what he really craved.  The 
having was not what satisfied him - it was the taking.  His 
destiny was conquest, ruthless and bloody.  He would rule what 
he had taken, of course, but it would never be enough.  The 
hunger in him could never be satisfied, no matter how large his 
dominion became.

That was fine by him.  He loved the hunger.  He loved to play 
the game of conquest, of crushing foes beneath his heels and 
shattering the defenses of those who would stand against him.  
Only this time, he would play the game on a larger scale.  He 
would not conquer nations, but entire worlds.  Starting from 
ShadowWorld, he would spread his iron fingers out through the 
parallel dimensions which compromised the multiverse, grasping 
for new frontiers to defile, new subjects to enslave.  

He thought he might start with Dark Schneider's world, if the 
mage survived the tournament.  Or perhaps Sephiroth's.  He felt 
he owed both of them a lesson in humility, long overdue.

But that was a dream for the future.  First, they had to take 
care of business with this tournament.  And that meant, at the 
moment, that he had to work with his so-called teammates, not 
against them.  

"Self evident," he said, echoing Dark Schneider's words.  "As 
you say.  Yet we need to plan for the eventualities before us.  
'Dogpile on Xelloss' isn't a particularly refined strategy."

"Battle strategy," noted Alberto, "is not the issue."

"Oh?  Why not?" Bison purred through clenched teeth.

Alberto the Impacter regarded him coolly with his one remaining 
eye.  It might have surprised Bison to learn that Alberto 
thought of him as a complete amateur.  He'd traveled in criminal 
circles all his life, rubbed shoulders with warlords and 
demigods for as long as he could remember.  Big Fire, the 
organization which Alberto served on his own world, made Bison's 
ShadowLaw look like the local Rotary club.  

Alberto knew true leadership when he saw it.  Bison, in his 
estimation, had nothing but the lust for power.  He had no 
vision, no ideals, no real philosophical sophistication.  

Shockwave Alberto did not waste his time thinking about the 
world which had been promised by Xelloss.  A world of his own?  
What would that avail him?  Alberto knew his role in the greater 
scheme of things.  He had no desire to be a ruler.  He was a 
general, a master of the battlefield, a high and trusted 
operative.  He did not long to take his place at the top of the 
ladder.  Service to a true leader, to Big Fire, was enough, so 
long as he kept faith in the ideal world that Big Fire would one 
day create.

Alberto did not care about getting a world of his own, but there 
WAS an opportunity for power here.  He was sure of it.  If he 
could return to his own world, to the Magnificent Ten, with 
enough power to tip the scales in their struggle and defeat 
their foes in Interpol, that would have made his excursion to 
Ultra worth all the effort.  That was what Alberto was hoping to 
achieve.  And if this other world was sacrificed, then what of 
it?  It seemed that destiny was at work here, and the world of 
Ultra was not his home.  If it were doomed to die now, he might 
as well benefit from it.

Bison was right about one thing, at least.  The chief danger was 
that this creature, Xelloss, would betray them.  From what 
Alberto had learned of the Mazoku, their kind existed only to 
destroy, like physical embodiments of chaos and entropy.  Was 
Xelloss the kind to turn on his followers after they had served 
his purpose?  Alberto thought it highly probable.

"Battle strategy is irrelevant," he said, "because we do not 
know the powers this Xelloss possesses.  We cannot plan for 
contingencies in combat if we do not know what our opponent can 
do."

Bison scowled.  "Perhaps..."

Alberto took a puff on his cigar.  "Yet I am confident that 
between us, we can dispatch him.  Each of us is a veteran of 
countless battles.  If it comes to a fight with Xelloss, I 
believe we can rely on our own power and experience to adapt to 
whatever he throws our way."

Dark Schneider raised his glass slightly and nodded.  "Indeed.  
I've been eager to test myself against a powerful Mazoku for 
some time.  It should be entertaining."

"The question is not how to defeat him," Alberto said.  "The 
question is WHEN we should act.  Xelloss is ancient and cunning.  
How do we spot his betrayal before it is too late to act?"

"Ah," the Exploder Wizard hummed.  "A much more prescient 
question.  And I think I have the answer."  

All eyes turned to Dark Schneider, and he smiled.  In spite of 
his youthful good looks, the legendary wizard counted his years 
in centuries.  He was easily older than all three of these 
others combined.  Admittedly, he had to respect their powers 
(though he suspected that Bison was more crippled than he cared 
to reveal), but when it came to experience, he felt they were 
all a bit wet behind the ears to be playing in the big leagues.

Did they believe Xelloss' promise of a world of their own?  He 
could have laughed at the prospect.  Destroy one world and 
create over a score of others to replace it?  That wasn't how it 
worked.  The most fundamental laws of energy and balance denied 
such a possibility.  

And had they even considered what was entailed in creating a 
world out of nothing?  What did they think they would get - a 
flourishing world full of human slaves, a world created out of 
the ether with its own history and culture ready-made?  A world 
made, as it were, retrospectively through time, and then granted 
to them like some glass bauble?  Or perhaps they thought they 
would get a primeval chunk of stone, with the first stirrings of 
life in its slimy pools of primordial soup.  The might have to 
wait quite some time before the ideal world of their dreams grew 
from such a beginning.

Laughable.  Dark Schneider hadn't believed it for an instant.  
And yet he had seen a great opportunity here, a place for danger 
and testing.  He thrived on new challenges and new experiences.  
Here... here was a chance to decide the fate of an entire world.  
He was a sucker for big explosions, after all.

Here was also a chance to test himself against Xelloss.  The 
Mazoku represented a foe worthy of respect, ancient enough to 
make Dark Schneider himself look like a newborn infant.  To face 
him from the other side of the playing field, on the team of the 
Prophet of Life, would have been boringly straightforward.  But 
here, on the team of Destruction, he would have to match both 
his power and his wits against Xelloss to come out as the winner 
of the game.

And if he could finally annihilate that insufferable Dan Hibiki 
once and for all... well, that was icing on the cake.

"I'll tell you how we spot when Xelloss will betray us," he told 
the others as they regarded him with keen curiosity.  "We 
don't."

"What?" Bison snapped.

"Xelloss knows we'd unite against him at the first sign of 
treachery," Dark Schneider said.  "Therefore, there won't BE a 
first sign.  By the time any of us spots what his plan to 
dispose of us will be, we won't have a chance to do a thing 
about it.  It will be too late."

"A rather defeatist attitude," M. Bison said in his granite-slab 
voice.  "I thought you had more mettle than that, sorcerer."

"Hmmph," Schneider insisted.  "Did I say I was giving up?  There 
is another solution.  We take it as a given that Xelloss will 
eventually turn on us..."

"And we turn on him first," Sephiroth finished quietly.  "Betray 
him, before he can betray us.  I see."

Dark Schneider bowed his head ever so slightly towards silver-
haired ex-SOLDIER.  "Precisely."

The Son of Jenova closed his Mako-blue eyes and smiled.  He 
supposed they were right about Xelloss, though he felt it was 
immaterial.  He did not fear the Mazoku, nor did he believe he 
needed allies to destroy him, if it came to that.  

Sephiroth had searched his heart at the prospect of gaining a 
world of his own, and had discovered, to his surprise, that he 
didn't care.  If it happened, it happened.  But it would be a 
hollow world, he knew, an empty place full of false dreams and 
plastic lives.  Xelloss was no Creator, and any world which 
sprung from his hand would be nothing more than a facade.

He wasn't competing in this tournament because of the promise of 
some Mazoku trickster.  He was here because of the Living 
Godhead.  He was here because of Mary.

She had been at the center of his thoughts for a long time now.  
Her decision to give up her powers vexed him mightily, and he 
could not keep his mind from returning to what she had done.  He 
wondered if she could really have done it.  Could she really 
have sealed away her abilities, so she could never reach them 
again?

The child's paradox came to him - "Could God create a rock so 
large that He couldn't lift it?"  Could the Living Godhead 
create a seal so strong that she couldn't break it?

Human minds could not cope with paradox, but Sephiroth's mind 
was not human.  He knew the answer was also a paradox: "Yes and 
no."

Sephiroth thought that Mary had made a grave mistake, and yet as 
the Living Godhead, she should not have been capable of error.  
He thought she was wrong, and yet he had to wonder... was she 
wiser than he knew?  Could such a decision, monstrous as it 
seemed to him, have actually been correct?

There was but one way to find out.  This tournament would be the 
test of her decision.  The team of Destruction would triumph - 
that, he would personally assure.  And then, the real test would 
occur.  Mary would have a choice.  Either she could stand by and 
let her world perish in flame... or she could reclaim her divine 
heritage, break the seal that she had set upon her self, stand 
against the prophecy, and save the world.

Sephiroth very much wanted to see what she would do.  

"Your course commends itself," he told Dark Schneider.  "But for 
one factor.  Whether or not we dispose of Xelloss himself, we 
must see this tournament through to the end."

The ancient mage peered at Sephiroth thoughtfully.  "I see.  
Yes, I can agree on that.  Gentlemen?"

"I concur," Alberto said.

"As do I," M. Bison added, though he disliked having to go along 
with any idea which didn't originate from himself.

"So, we will dispose of Xelloss sometime before the end of the 
tournament," announced Dark Schneider, "and then we will 
continue on to victory, and the fulfillment of the Prophecy of 
Destruction.  We are in agreement."

"Now," Bison rasped.  "Let us decide how we shall destroy our 
so-called leader."

And they continued to speak amongst themselves for a long time.

- - - - -

Getting to the UltraDome was proving to be a much greater 
challenge than Nabiki had expected.

She looked out of the taxi's front windscreen and bit back a 
curse.  The boulevard was packed with teeming throngs of 
humanity, overwhelming the police through sheer numbers and 
frantic energy.  Cars of all sorts sat askew across the asphalt, 
parked haphazardly by the army of reporters, onlookers, and 
would-be Prophets of Life in their haste to get to the center of 
the action.

She, Tendo Nabiki, was that center.  The fighters and staff of 
Ultra attracted attention of their own, but the crushing focus 
of the media and public interest had landed, primarily, on her 
head.  Everybody wanted to know who was going to be the Prophet 
of Life, who was going to defend their lives, and it seemed that 
they had all agreed that Nabiki was the person who would provide 
them with the answers.  

Well, she had chosen a Prophet, but she wasn't interested in 
talking about it to the throng.  Part of that was a pressing 
need for haste, but a larger part was a sense that she'd chosen 
rashly.  Hakubi Mary?  A barely-recognized referee?  Had she 
lost her wits?

Lina had seemed sure.  And there had been something else, a 
memory of a small girl appearing out of nowhere as she was about 
to sign away Ultra - and, assuredly her own life - to the 
grinning pillar of M. Bison.  Mary had grown up a lot since then 
(some sort of space-time distortion, Washuu had explained 
breezily), but she was still the same girl who had saved 
Nabiki's life that day.  

Not a great reason for choosing her as Prophet of Life, Nabiki 
felt, but what else could she do?  

From beside her in the cab, Tarou growled.  "We're never going 
to get through this damned mess."

Nabiki turned her attention back to the problem at hand. She 
should have asked some of her fighters to stay and help clear a 
path.  She hadn't known it was going to be this bad.  She 
scanned around, and finally settled her gaze upon the entrance 
to a towering skyscraper.  

"Can you get us over there?" she asked Tarou, pointing to the 
doors. 

"Sure," the Chinese fighter said.  He didn't ask what she 
intended to do once she got there.  "Stick close behind me, all 
right?"

"Understood."  She shoved a handful of bills towards the cab 
driver, then grabbed her briefcase and laptop.  "Let's go."

The crowd pressed towards them as Tarou opened the cab door, 
microphones bristling from its mass like quills from a 
porcupine, a thousand bulbous, hungry camera lenses glinting in 
the sunlight.  Tarou threw himself forward and applied himself 
like a wedge, shoving the human mass aside as he burrowed a path 
for himself and Nabiki.  Questions and screams of desperation 
hammered them from all sides.

They reached the entrance after what seemed an endless journey 
through reaching arms, grasping hands, and shouting faces.  
Nabiki's clothes were ripped and tattered in places, her hair a 
disheveled mess.  Tarou turned and braced himself against the 
large double-doors, then shouted back to the surprised security 
guards at the information desk.  "Lock this damned door!" he 
commanded.

The guards obeyed.  The throng broke against the building like 
waves against a cliff of stone.  Tarou panted from the exertion.

"They'll force their way through the glass if we wait too long," 
he marveled.  "So what now?"

"The roof," Nabiki told him, fixing her clothes as best she 
could.  She had lost a shoe along the way, and she irritably 
kicked the other one off.  "I'm going to charter a helicopter."

Tarou grinned.  "Good idea."

It was an expenditure she could hardly afford, but in the 
torrent of debt which already faced her, what did it really 
matter?  She walked as quickly as she could across the polished 
tile in her nylons without slipping as Tarou led her towards the 
elevators.  Tendrils of the crowd were already pouring in from 
the other entrances to the building, but they were too late.  
Tarou shoved one eager reporter back out the elevator as the 
doors slid shut.

Nabiki produced her cell phone from her tattered jacket, then 
sorted through a list of numbers to find the charter service. 
Tarou watched her, his brow furrowed in thought.

"All right," the young CEO finally said, after having located 
the number she needed.  "I'll arrange our ride.  What a mess."

"Do you think we'll be coming back here?" Tarou asked.

Nabiki shook her head.  "I doubt it.  Not before the tournament 
ends, one way or another.  There's nothing we can accomplish 
back here anymore."

"I think," Tarou said slowly as the elevator rose, "that someone 
should stay behind to handle the affairs of Ultra back home."

She looked at him with surprise.  "What... you mean YOU want to 
stay?"

"It might be best," he told her.  "I know what needs to be done.  
There's a lot of cleanup and legal matters to deal with, and 
somebody has to..."

"To HELL with that!" Nabiki said, her voice rising.  "I need you 
with me, Tarou!"

He blinked at her.  Her lips were trembling.

The smooth, confident, controlled facade of Tendo Nabiki, 
Ultra's CEO, had faded to a gossamer dream.  The young woman who 
stood before him, her eyes wide and her hair askew, was finally 
showing the cracks in her armor.  The colossal pressure, the 
devastating loss, the monstrous uncertainty - even an ice queen 
like Nabiki couldn't shrug it all off.

"No, you're coming with me," she commanded, her voice shaking as 
she tried to sound crisp and authoritative.  Her hands trembled 
as she stabbed angrily at the cell phone.  "I'm not doing this 
alone, damn it.  The lawyers can handle things back here.  Who 
cares?  I don't.  We're going together."

Tarou listened to her, and a smile crossed his face, 
surprisingly tender.  "I can see this isn't going to work."

"What?" she demanded, her voice sharp and desperate.  "It'll be 
fine!  We..."

"Yes," he said, and he closed his hand over hers, lowering the 
cell phone.  "It will be fine."

"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes wide and searching.  
"I have to... to call a helicopter..."

"No," he told her softly.  "You don't."

"Wh..."

"Do you trust me?"  He gazed into her eyes.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.  

"Good."

The elevator door opened, and they stepped out onto the heliport 
on the roof of the skyscraper roof.  Leading Nabiki by the hand, 
Tarou made his way over to the edge of the roof, where Tokyo 
sprawled below them in a tangled labyrinth of concrete and 
steel.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Better to show than tell," he replied.  "Under the 
circumstances, I think that you're going to have to know, one 
way or another."

"Know what?"

He smiled, and as they stood in the whipping winds high above 
the city, he took her into his arms and held her close.  Her 
heart thundered in her chest, pressed tight against him, and 
without even thinking about it, she returned his embrace, 
wrapping her arms around his back and holding on with all her 
strength.  They stood there for a moment that seemed to last 
forever, and then Tarou leaned back, toppling into empty space, 
into the grasp of the wind.

Nabiki did not scream as they plummeted over the edge of the 
skyscraper.  He would keep her safe, after all.  She trusted 
him.

A surge of brilliant light enfolded them, and she felt Tarou 
change.  

Human skin turned to silver, human eyes turned to luminous orbs, 
human blood turned to living energy.  The crystal that Tarou 
wore beneath his shirt pulsed with ancient, cosmic power.  He 
was the defender from the stars.  He was the Giant of Light.  He 
was Ultraman.

Nabiki smiled, and the pieces fell into place.  'I should have 
guessed,' she told herself.  'Of course.  Of course.'

He did not grow to his superhuman size as he carried her high 
across the city, the power thundering through him as he soared 
above the skyscrapers like a silver and crimson bullet with 
Nabiki clutched in his arms.  For a time, all fear fell away 
from her, all thoughts of the terrible trial that lay before 
them vanished, and her heart surged with the pure joy of fight, 
the pure bliss of being held in his arms.  Part of her wished 
she could simply freeze time and stay like this forever, high in 
the brilliant blue sky, the glittering city laid out beneath 
them as they held one another close.  

But she could see the ruin of the UltraDome rushing towards 
them, and for now, the moment would have to end.

Tarou shifted her to a less intimate position, carrying her 
beside her with one hand around the waist, and descended towards 
the rubble-strewn parking lot.  It seemed that everyone else had 
made it there before them, and the eyes of the remaining members 
of Ultra followed their approach.

Nabiki landed, thanked Ultraman with what she hoped was a 
suitable air of formality, and straightened out her hair as she 
surveyed her troops.  She scanned the faces of the assembled 
fighters, as well as the referees, the announcers, the technical 
crew, Lain, and the members of This Old Dojo.  She tried to do a 
head count, but the world seemed to be spinning slightly.  She 
felt a bit giddy.

"Is everybody here?" she asked to nobody in particular.

"I believe so," offered Yaga, always willing to assume a 
position of authority.  

"Your assistant isn't here," noted Lei Wulong.  It figured, 
Nabiki thought - he was easily the most observant member of 
Ultra.

"Tarou has a few loose ends to take care of," Nabiki informed 
him, hoping her casual tone didn't sound forced.  She quelled an 
impulse to glance at Ultraman.  "He'll be joining us later."

"And what about Kasumi?" Akane asked.

Nabiki stared at her blankly.  "Kasumi?" she asked.

"I just thought... I don't know..." Akane stammered, twiddling 
her fingers.  "Maybe that she..."

Ranma stepped up.  "She's this Prophet of Light, right?  Ain't 
she?"

"Oh," Nabiki said, understanding.  Her elder sister had never 
even occurred to her as a candidate.  She found that highly odd, 
now that she thought about it, but now wasn't the time to ponder 
the matter.  She turned her gaze towards the street beyond.

Crowds had gathered around the police barricade which had been 
erected along the perimeter of the wreckage of the UltraDome, 
and the cameramen of the press had assumed strategic positions.  
Large sound dishes rose up above the heads of the onlookers.

"The Prophet has come forward," Nabiki said, loudly enough to 
make sure the press heard.  They deserved to know that much, at 
least.  "But I'm not talking about it here.  We'll deal with 
this when we get to our new base camp, all right?"

The members of Ultra were as keen to find out the identity of 
this Prophet as anybody, but they all seemed willing to wait a 
little while longer.  Nabiki turned to Mary.  "Inform your 
mother that we're ready.  She can open the gate."

Tendrils of electricity crackled from a point in space, and hot 
ozone filled the air.  Space and time wrenched themselves apart, 
and a shimmering blue portal surged into view, large enough to 
admit even the mighty Gundam DeathScythe and its maintenance 
trucks.  Nabiki ushered her troops through the portal, keeping a 
wary eye on the crowd to make sure that no interlopers tried to 
sneak through.

Her gaze paused only an instant on a cardboard box which stood 
amongst the rubble.  She felt vaguely suspicious for a moment, 
but then dismissed her concerns as unnecessary and thought no 
more about it.  After all, it was just a box - obviously 
harmless.

If she had looked more closely at the innocuous cardboard box, 
she might have noticed that a small silhouette of a rubber duck 
had been drawn near one of the corners.

If she had kept watching the box, she would have noticed rise up 
slightly, shuffle towards the gateway on two pairs of feet, and 
slip through the portal while nobody was looking.

And if she had listened very carefully, she might have heard the 
muffled squeak.

- - - - -

The lights were out when the former Ultra crew arrived in the 
quasi-dimension. Naturally with a group that size, there 
followed a lot of commotion, shouting, and things falling down.

"Sorry about that, everybody." Washuu's voice filled the room 
with the help of a few amplifiers. "The machines were stressed 
out opening a portal that big. Are the trucks in yet?"

"Good to go," called an anonymous voice, presumably one of the 
truck drivers.

"And the giant robot?"

"All set," answered Duo.

"And Yaga's ego?"

"Rrrgh."

"Right," Washuu said with an impish twinkle in her eyes.  She 
scanned the assembled fighters and staff, the remaining members 
of MCTFF Ultra.  "Now, as roomy as my humble digs are here, I 
don't have the space to put you all up.  However, I understand 
there are accommodations at this End of Time place.  So, we're 
going to have a few hours while my gateway charges up, and then 
I'm afraid I'll have to send you on your way."

"Will there be enough room where we're going?" asked Nabiki.

"Plenty," the super-genius said.  "I've sorted it out."

"We have some business to take care of," the CEO of Ultra told 
her host.  "It... probably shouldn't wait.  Do you have a place 
where all the fighters could meet?"

"Why, in fact I do," Washuu informed her, with a special sort of 
'I knew you were going to ask that look' reserved solely for 
mega-geniuses and soothsayers.  "If you'll follow me..."

The fighters split off from the rest of the staff.  The non-
combatants of Ultra felt a bit left out, but it couldn't be 
helped.  Nabiki told them to make sure they were prepared for 
transit and to simply wait.  They didn't need any extra people 
at the meeting that was about to follow.

"Okay then." Washuu flipped a switch. Light spilled over the 
room.
It spilled over every last wooden board, sliding door, futon and 
tranquil pond. Except for the giant control panel, and the fact 
that it was massively larger than the original, they were 
standing in an exact replica of the Tendo household. Complete 
with its own Kasumi.

"Hello everyone," greeted the ex-God, seated next to Washuu. 
"I'm so glad everyone could make it."

"Er. Sis?" Nabiki blinked, taken aback. "I didn't know you were 
gonna-"

"I knew it!" Ranma crowed. "You are the Prophet of Life! We'll 
take that smiling demon out to the cleaners!"

There was a general commotion among everyone present, 
battlecries and preemptive shouts of victory. It lasted a 
moment, until Kasumi smiled. It wasn't a threat or a warning, or 
anything other than her patented sweet and warm homegirl smile, 
but it quieted the room instantly. "Nabiki and Mary," she called 
pleasantly. "Why don't you stand up here by me?"

The two were taken aback by the entire situation, but complied. 
It seemed a long walk to Nabiki, the eyes of almost the entire 
Ultra staff scrutinizing her every step. There was more than 
just the fate of the world riding on this, on her and a little 
girl and an eventual team of fourteen fighting for Life. She was 
good with pressure, thrived on it, but this was something 
different altogether. She managed to take her place beside her 
older sister with her game face intact, however, and that made 
the jitters subside.

"As you know," began the girl who had once been God, hands 
clasped prettily in front of her dress, "we're in a bit of 
trouble now. Xelloss the Mazoku, a demon race from Miss Lina's 
world, has organized fourteen of Ultra's fighters, present and 
past, to engage us in a tournament. If they win, well..." She 
trailed off. They got the idea. "But of course, with our Prophet 
of Life to guide us to victory, they will properly punished and 
everyone will be happy."

There was a resounding cheer... that cut off halfway through.

"But..." Akane's voice filled the room. "Aren't YOU... uh... 
Kasumi? I mean, the Prophet?"

The Tendo girl's eyes widened in surprise, a hand raised to her 
bosom in surprise. "Me? Oh, no, of course not. What a funny 
idea."

"Soo... who is?" asked Ranma.

Kasumi waved her arm. At the end of it stood both her younger 
sister and a small girl in a referee outfit.

"Nabiki?" Hiroshi called in surprise.

"Well, I guess it kind of makes sense..." said Daisuke. "I mean, 
the sister of an ex-God..."

There were murmurs of hesitant consent. Nabiki's patience 
snapped.
"No, not me!" she cried, pointing at Mary. "HER!"

Things were quiet for a very long time.

Mary shifted her weight nervously, small hands clasped. "Um... 
hi."

"What's going on here?" boomed the voice of Yaga, stepping into 
the center of the room. "You can't be serious that a child is 
going to lead us to victory."

Kasumi smiled. "I am very serious. She's the only one who can."

"This is ridiculous!" The Japanese wrestler turned to the 
assembled cast and crew, eating up the limelight. "You expect us 
all to put our hopes into a referee who hasn't reached puberty?"

There was a small amount of murmuring filtering through the 
room, most of it agreement. Lina Inverse, somewhere towards the 
front of the group, held her tongue. She'd helped sell the 
girl's credibility to Nabiki, but the little Godhead was going 
to have to stand on her own two feet if she was going to pull 
this off.

"I'm going to agree with the thick-headed wrestler on this one," 
came another voice, and Mousse strode into the crowd. "Why 
should we be trusting ourselves to a little kid if Kasumi's 
right in front of us?"

"Because Kasumi wouldn't work!" Mary shouted defensively. Her 
face turned red and she tried to stammer an apology to the 
oldest Tendo sister, but Mousse and Yaga were all over it. A 
number of This Old Dojo crewmen, Gundam maintenance workers and 
truck drivers were beginning to shout in league with the two 
antagonizing fighters.

"And she stands here and mocks our previous God while she's at 
it!" The Chinese warrior scoffed. "I'm no raving fanatic, but 
this isn't the time to be tempting whoever the real Prophet is."

"I'm not so into this either," called Marlo, who had 
unsurprisingly brought his own chair. "I mean, who's ever gone 
up against the forces of darkness with someone who hasn't had 
her first boyfriend yet?"

"If we're really that pressed for Prophets," Gary chimed in, 
"why not me? At least I've graduated grade school."

"We need a general who can send his troops to fight to the 
death," agreed Yaga, much more loudly than necessary. "Not a 
pre-teenaged kid with acne on her nose."

Lina smacked her forehead.

"I do not have- that's not the point!" cried Mary. "Listen to 
me!"

'They won't listen,' Nabiki thought sourly. They still think 
this is Sports Entertainment and they're letting their 
villainous persona take over. She was about to speak up, when a 
third voice entered the fray.

"I think Mary is a good choice!"  

All eyes turned to the source of this unexpected sentiment.  
Small in frame but full of determination, Kinomoto Sakura of the 
Card Captor Team spoke.  "She's helped me out a lot," the young 
Clow warrior told the assembled fighters.  "I think she's very 
wise.  Even if she doesn't pick me for her team, I think she'd 
make a good Prophet."

Her partner, Li, gave her a very strange look.  The rest of the 
fighters seemed far from convinced, and were muttering amongst 
themselves when another voice spoke up.

"I agree with Sakura," Ash Ketchum said.

The murmurs quieted.  The young Pokemon trainer cleared his 
throat, looking pained but determined.

"You all know what a mess I was," he told them.  "How badly out 
of whack my head had gotten and everything.  A lot of you tried 
to tell me that I was losing it."  His eyes shifted over several 
faces - Gary, Jessie, James, and finally Tifa.  "None of you got 
through to me.  But she did," he pointed to Mary.  "When 
everyone else had pretty much written me off for a loss, she... 
brought me back from the brink.  I think there's more to her 
than you guys realize."

This seemed to sink in more than Sakura's words had.  Ash's 
turnaround had truly been a sort of miracle, and if Mary had 
been responsible...

"So she has the vote of the kindergarten crowd," grumbled Yaga. 
"Is there anybody besides the diaper crowd who believes in this 
nonsense?"

Mary felt something give way. She frowned at him, and there 
seemed to 
be way too many years packed into that small face than could be 
accounted for. "I'm sorry if I don't seem old enough for you. Or 
if I haven't had any experience in fighting. But I am the 
Prophet of Life, and I am choosing warriors to fight against the 
destruction of the universe. All the universes. If you're not 
interested, step back and stay out of my way."

Yaga opened his mouth, meaning to laugh her off, his eyes locked 
on hers... but she wasn't looking away. And he felt like she 
wasn't going to, no matter how hard he stared.

With all the dignity he could muster, the Great Yaga turned and 
re-entered the crowd.

"Did... did Mary just stare down Yaga?" Sakura whispered.

"Shh," breathed Shingo. "This is getting interesting."

The tide of opinion seemed to be shifting.  Most of the fighters 
in Ultra had been touched, one way or another, by Mary's 
presence, and every touch had affected them more than they 
realized.  She could feel that she was making progress, but was 
it enough?

Lei Wulong stepped forward, studying Mary intently with his 
keen, piercing eyes.  Then, unexpectedly, he turned to Lina 
Inverse.  "I always think it's best to consult the experts," the 
Tokyo Super-cop said.  "And you're about as close to an expert 
as we've got for this sort of thing.  What do you say, Ms. 
Inverse?"

Lina hadn't really wanted to throw her weight in - if Mary 
relied on her too much for support, she'd never learn to stand 
on her own.  Still, it was hard to duck a direct question.  "I 
think," the red-headed sorceress said, "that there's only one 
person right now who feels sure that she's the Prophet of Life.  
And I also think that Xelloss won't be expecting her to be the 
one.  Maybe that could be an advantage, hmm?"

"Look," Nabiki raised her voice.  "I've been looking for this 
damned Prophet for days now.  Nobody knows more about this than 
I do.  And I think Mary's the one."  She was surprised by the 
vehemence of her own words.  A few hours ago, she'd had the same 
doubts as the rest of them.  Now, she was prepared to shout down 
anybody who still wanted to argue against Mary being the true 
Prophet.  "Time is wasting.  Are we going to get on with 
choosing the team, or does anybody else care to challenge the 
issue?"

Yaga fidgeted, seemed about to say something, then closed his 
mouth.

"So this is how things are," she heard herself saying. "I need 
to pick fourteen of you, ten single fighters and two tag-teams, 
to fight against Xelloss and his team."

"When Xelloss picked his champions," she said, "he wasn't 
looking for powerhouses alone. If we do that, we'll lose. This 
battle won't be about power, not really. We have to fight 
because we want to protect our world. Our worlds."

She paused, breathing heavily but taking pains not to show it. 
This is taking a lot out of her, thought Washuu, and felt love 
for her adopted daughter so strongly it almost choked her.

"So are you ready for the team of Life to be chosen?" Mary 
asked.
To her vast relief, the room thundered with cheers. She closed 
her eyes, waiting.

And suddenly fear penetrated her mind.

Now what? she thought. Shouldn't it just come to me? After all 
those words, after I got their attention, I can't just blank 
out! I can't, I can't! Oh please oh please oh please don't mess 
this up...

The cheers had weathered out, and a few nervous sounds, such as 
the shuffling of feet or the clearing of throats were the 
dominant audio factor in the quasi-dojo dimension.

Sweat stood out on Mary's neck. She began to tremble. Tears 
began to form under her eyelids. In a moment, she knew she was 
going to cry, and the fear of her doing so was all that kept it 
at bay.
When the sound of a loud sobbing sound carried its way through 
the quasi-dojo, its occupants blinked in surprise.

Mary did, too.

"OYAJIIII!" was the cry following closely behind a wound-up ball 
of pink. It rolled from the midst of the crowds and to the feet 
of the young Godhead. Dan jumped up, manly tears streaming, and 
fell on one knee like a valiant knight of pinkness. Weeping 
openly, he took the young girl's hands.

"Dan Hibiki will fight for all his might!" declared the shaking, 
weeping man. "Not just for his world! Not just for his right to 
live! Dan Hibiki will risk his very life for none other than his 
number one fan!"

Her smile shone brighter than Washuu's elaborate configuration 
of powerlamps.

"Let it be known," she called, her mind swimming, "that Dan 
Hibiki is the first chosen fighter of Team Life."

"Oh, give me a break," Yaga spat, but did so quietly. The rest 
of the crowd applauded politely.

"That's one down," Kasumi smiled. "Only thirteen more to go. Oh, 
this is so much fun!"

Out of the crowd flew a small catlike creature with a note in 
its mouth. The applause halted as it extended its neck to give 
the piece of paper to Washuu.

"Eh? What's Mew doing?" Ash whispered.

"Chu," was his confused reply.

The scientist looked the letter over, shrugged, and flipped a 
couple switches. The quasi-dojo was once again doused in 
blackness until a single spotlight roughly the size of the 
DeathScythe aimed itself towards the rafters.

"...oh," said Ash.

"Prepare for trouble!"
"Make it double!"
"To protect the world from devastation!"
"To unite all people within our nation!"
"To spread the joys of truth and love!"
"To extend our reach to the stars above!"
"Jessie!"
"James!"
"Team Rocket defends Life at the speed of light!"
"They'll surrender now or prepare to fight!"
"Mew! Mew Mew!"

The human duo somersaulted to the ground, landing in perfect 
formation, while Mew casually floated along. The lights poured 
back on thanks to a bemused Washuu.

"That is so annoying," Marlo grumbled.

Gary shook his head. "Tell me about it."

Most of the crew was all applause, however. Mary joined in.

"Then Team Rocket is our first team!" she called. "That makes 
three!" She paused a moment, then took a quick look at the 
crowd. "And I know who number four will be."

"Ah! Our mighty Prophet has visions!" Dan shook a fist at the 
crowd. It was his way of spreading enthusiasm.

The girl's head swiveled. Everyone followed her gaze. "Duo 
Maxwell," she said.

"At you service," he agreed cheekily, from somewhere inside the 
DeathScythe.

Mary smiled, but felt butterflies in her stomach. That decision 
came to her as so obvious, so necessary, that she had no idea 
what triggered it. And now that she'd outright picked a champion 
of her own, the volunteers seemed to be hesitant to come 
forward.
Dan, Team Rocket, and Duo were all right, she knew that. But who 
was next...?

"Marlo Semaj," she realized out loud.

The Furnityre Warrior laughed, climbing out of his chair. "Well, 
at least you have good taste. I still have my reservations, but 
what the hell. I'm in."

She had barely enough time to breath before she blurted out, 
"And Li Ping."

The American fighter blinked. "Me? Saving the world?"

Mary nodded at him. "You."

"Just think of it as a really epic movie," Sakura chimed in, 
nudging him.

"Yeah," agreed Shingo. "The Chosen One who has to battle with 
the weight of the world on his shoulders."

Sakura nodded knowingly. "He might not realize it at first, but 
only he can do it-"

"I get what you mean. This is awesome!" Li Ping was almost 
bouncing from excitement. He did a few tricky flips in the air. 
"I'm so in!"

"Oh, my," Kasumi beamed. "Six already. You're almost halfway 
there, Mary!"

"More than halfway, I'd think." The collective attention of 
those present turned toward the rough mannerisms of Bean Bandit. 
"What do you think, Teef?"

The brunette grinned. "I'd have to say I agree. I've taken on 
worse odds than this at the stake of the world, and I'll take 
them on again. If you'll allow us, of course."

"It's not really allowing," Mary answered. "There are pieces of 
the puzzle that just... seem to fall into place. All I'm doing 
is arranging things."

Bean raised an eyebrow behind his shades. "So you're saying...?"

"Oh. You're in, of course. And I think that's our second team, 
too."

"Well, naturally. We're at our best when we're together." He 
tossed Tifa a wink.

Mary sighed. It was coming so easily now.

"Our next fighter is Lina Inverse," she announced.

The sorceress beamed. "A fairly obvious choice. And I can't wait 
to teach that bimbo Naga a thing or two about strange 
bedfellows." The sound of her cracking her knuckles went through 
the spines of everyone present.

"We'll be more than happy to give you your chance," agreed 
Nabiki. "I can't believe I ever had such a fool on my pay list." 
She tapped her chin. "And while we're on that subject, how about 
Ultraman here?" She tossed her incognito employee a smirk.

Mary blinked. "I was just about to say that."

Ultraman expressed his assent with a single nod. The young girl 
went back to concentrating, although it wasn't really necessary.

"And Ash Ketchum." She was smiling when she said it, but it was 
a faltering thing. A keen observer would have found it quite 
disturbing.
Ash, meanwhile, grinned at Raichu. "What do you say? Up for it?"

"Rai rai."

Puzzled glances.

"That's a yes," Ash translated.

Kasumi clapped. "This is wonderful! It's going much faster than 
I expected! Only three more to go, Mary!"

The girl looked up at her, eyes full of worry. After Ash, she 
felt completely dry. It was as if the slate she'd been reading 
from had been wiped clean. Nothing else was coming to her.

Nothing else... she thought, and her mind lingered on those 
words. Nothing is coming to me.

Coming to me.

"I think..." she began, then shook the away her doubts. They 
wouldn't follow anyone who was unsure of themselves, let alone a 
little girl. 

"The next two fighters need to come forward of their own free 
will," she said.

Shingo, Sakura, Selphie, Zell, Lei, Ranma, and Akane were 
instantly on their feet.

"I'm ready for anything!"

"Of course, I'll fight!"

"We're here for ya!"

"Just tell me where to sign up!"

"You can count on me to fight."

"Come on, you can't lemme miss a fight like this. And I gotta 
stop that old freak from having his way."

"You know I'm ready to give it my all!"

Mary shook her head at the gaggle of eager fighters. They 
stopped talking instantly, thunderstruck. "I'm... sorry, but 
only one of you will be entering the Team. That doesn't mean 
you're not needed, or any less necessary," she hurried on, "but 
most of your places will be assisting from the sides."

"So which one of us is it?" asked Sakura.

Shingo nodded emphatically. "Yeah, don't keep us in suspense!"

Mary checked a sigh, and somehow turned into a small smile. "I'm 
sorry, but I don't know yet. It will fall into place once the 
next two come forth."

"Then I'll come forth," came a voice. Possibly the last voice 
any of them expected to hear. Also quite possible the last 
person they expected to be there at all.

A mass of tall muscle made its way from the backs of the 
entourage. It walked directly up to Mary, and looked down at her 
from what seemed miles of bulk.

"Sagat," Mary greeted, inclining her head. "You are indeed the 
one we need."

"Wait a minute," Ranma cried, jerking back to his feet. "Why 
him? The guy who used to work for Bison, fighting against evil? 
What are you even doing here in the first place?"

The Muay Thai fighter's eye turned on the young martial artist. 
He sneered, folding arms of his broad chest. "What a foolish 
question, although I'm not surprised to hear it from you. I'm 
sure as hell not going to follow the schemes of another raving 
lunatic like Bison again. And do you really think I'd let a 
bunch of kids, brats, and fools fight for my right to live? I'm 
not trusting my life to anyone except myself."

"Valiant words," smirked Washuu.

Ranma looked like he was about to rise to the challenge, but 
Akane restrained him with a firm hand. "Let it go. We still have 
two more to go."

Mary nodded, and the teenaged martial artist settled down. She 
was afraid there would be a long, awkward silence. This wasn't 
the case.

"I guess I have no choice, then," rumbled Yaga. "At least it'll 
give me the chance to teach Satan a thing or two about joining 
forces with someone who disrespects our livelihood."

The little Godhead beamed. "Great. Welcome to the team. And by 
the time this is over, I'll prove to you that I'm worthy of 
being Prophet."

The Great Yaga allowed himself a grin. "I have known mighty men, 
giant men, and great warriors who could never speak those words 
with such conviction. But," he added, "I am going to hold you to 
that promise."

"I look forward to proving it," she said somberly, then set her 
thoughts once again.

"So it's down to one more," Nabiki mused. "You know who it is 
yet?"

"Yeah. I... do." She chewed her lip.

Her eyes brushed over the crowd.

Ranma sat forward... and felt her eyes fall on him. He grinned, 
began to stand...

...and they slid past him, settling on his fiancée.

"Akane," Mary said. "Tendo Akane will be our final teammate."

Both fiancées were equally taken aback at this news. They tried 
to talk, but couldn't for the stumble in their voices.

"Why ME?"

"Why HER? I mean, and not ME?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't know. But your place is at the 
sidelines, Ranma. Behind the scenes. You'll be important there, 
believe me. But it's Akane's turn to take the ring."

'Oh, great,' thought Nabiki. 'Here's where Ranma makes a huge 
deal and possibly ruins everything.'

But Ranma was utterly silent. Akane looked at him 
apprehensively, worried herself.

"Do you accept this responsibility?" Mary asked.

Perhaps once, she would have waited for Ranma's nod before 
agreeing. Perhaps once, she would have agreed with even more 
vehemence if he made a lot of noise. This wasn't then.

"I do," she said resolutely. "And I'll do my best."

The Japanese martial artist gamely forced a sportsmanlike grin 
onto his face. "Ah, what the hell. It's probably a huge mistake, 
but I've seen what ya can do now. And it's not like I have much 
of a choice anyway."

Mary sighed with relief. She raised her hands, and called out.

"Team Life has been chosen!"

The cheers could have carried into the next quasi-dojo over. It 
wasn't UltraDome intense, but comparatively, it was pretty 
close. The ruckus was only cut out by Washuu turning on her own 
voice amplifier t the highest setting.

"Not to ruin the mood, but can we take this celebration 
somewhere else? This place isn't exactly cheap to keep 
operational."

"All right, let's move it out," Nabiki called as the lights 
flickered out and the giant portal reappeared. "We all know 
where to be the night of the first fight." The sounds of a mass 
exodus gradually surfaced, and beneath it all, she grinned to 
herself. "The first fight of Final Ultra. The beginning of the 
end."

"Is something wrong?" asked Kasumi, having somehow made it to 
her sister's side in the pitch dark. How her voice carried over 
the DeathScythe's exit was beyond Nabiki, but she still wasn't 
surprised to hear it.

The entrepreneur chuckled, shaking her head. "Not really. I just 
remember when I did was scam neighborhood people out of money 
and all you did was clean the house and look after everyone."

"Oh, yes," Kasumi agreed. "Things were a lot simpler then, I 
suppose. I don't think I'd trade that time for this, though. Do 
you?"

Nabiki rubbed at her eyes. "I don't know. Sometimes, maybe. I 
never did realize how much things would change when you went to 
fight that tournament. That was really the start of it all, 
wasn't it?"

The younger Tendo smiled. It was full of kindness that you 
didn't have to see to feel. "Goodness, I don't think so. These 
matters tend to start long before we're caught up in them." 

"You're probably right. Well," Nabiki sighed, "I might as well 
follow everyone and make sure they don't throw a giant party to 
completely bankrupt what little I have left. You coming?"

"Of course I am. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

When all was said and done and the portal closed, the lights 
flickered back on. Only four remained. Washuu smiled down at 
Mary and gave her a tight hug. The young girl had stopped Dan 
from leaving by grabbing onto his gi, and so the pink clad 
martial artist was caught up in the embrace as well.

"You did great," she said. "I'm sorry they gave you such a rough 
time at the start."

Mary shook her head. "I'm not. It's just like I said to Mr. 
Yaga, I'll have to prove my worth to them. But I'm up to it."

"I have to say you proved it to me already." Lina grinned. "I'll 
never forget the look on that buffoon's face when he realized 
you weren't gonna break first."

"I just hope he's not too offended." Mary smiled. "To be honest, 
I just want to go to sleep."

"You earned it." Lina turned back to the scientist. "Think you 
can crank up a smaller portal for me and the weeping warrior 
there?"

"Not a problem." Washuu swapped a few coordinates and the blue 
sphere was back, human-sized.

"There's nothing shameful of a man's tears!" Dan protested.

Mary laughed. "Not at all. Oh, and Dan... I wanted to say thank 
you."

"Thank me? For what?" The man blinked. "I did nothing that-"
She laughed again and covered his cheeks in mountains of 
butterfly kisses.

- - - - - 

One day before the Tournament was scheduled to begin, the two 
teams faced one another for the first time.  They stood in the 
Ultimate Arena in the shadow of the looming gargoyle that would 
serve as their Referee.  

[Prophet Of Destruction,] the immense voice of the Referee 
boomed, [Your Team Has Been Chosen.]

"Indeed it has!" he asserted, stepping forth.  He could sense 
some sort of barrier in place between the sides upon which the 
two teams stood.  There was obviously meant to be no fighting 
before the Tournament itself began, which was probably a good 
thing.  A few of these people looked ready to lunge at each 
others' throats.  

[Prophet Of Life,] the gargoyle continued.  [Your Team Has Been 
Chosen.]

"Yes," Mary agreed, her chin raised high.  "We're ready."

Xelloss peered at her curiously.  This had not been who he had 
expected to face as the Prophet of Life.  Very, very odd.  But 
his grinning face betrayed no surprise.  He was too old a player 
to tip his hand so clumsily.  

"Hal-oo, Mary-chan!" he called.  "So good to finally meet you in 
person!  I've been looking forward to this, don't you know.  
Such an honor!"

"Can it, Xelloss," Lina snapped.  

"And a fine hello to you to, Lina-chan!" the Mazoku chirped 
back.  "I've forgiven you for that Chrono Trigger thingy you did 
to me, by the way.  Very clever of you.  Very cunning.  I really 
do admire you!"

She stuck her tongue out at him in response.

He continued on merrily.  "What an interesting little band 
you've pulled together, Mary-chan!" he burbled.  "Quite a few 
faces I wasn't expecting to see.  Why, if it isn't Sagat!  
You're looking positively grumpy, my friend!  Are you feeling 
that you ended up on the wrong side, hmm?"

"Hardly," the Muay-Thai fighter grunted.  

M. Bison let out a deep, throaty chuckle.  "Ah, Sagat," he 
rumbled.  "Such a pity to see you reduced to the level of the 
children you once derided.  How far you have fallen since you 
left me!  It will be a mercy killing when I put you out of your 
misery."

"You?" Sagat snorted, seeming genuinely amused.  "You and what 
army, Bison?  Oh yes, you lost your army.  I wonder, can you 
survive without it?"

The former dictator's smile widened, but the tendons in his neck 
stood out, and his eyes blazed angrily.

The Referee interrupted any further conversation which may have 
ensued with his sonorous tones.  [The Time Has Come.  The 
Prophets Have Assembled Their Fighters.  Now, The Contests Shall 
Be Determined.]

The stands of the Ultimate Arena flickered and seemed to fall 
away, fading into a star-studded darkness.  The two teams were 
left standing on a flat plane of stone that floated amongst 
countless swirling galaxies, drifting through the endless void.  

[The First Stage Of The Tournament.  The Fights Shall Number...] 
a pause, as if the Referee were processing something, then:  
[Six.]

Six globes of stone rose from the blackness, each one colossal 
in its dimensions, though it was hard to determine how big they 
truly were.  They might have been the size of a battleship, or 
as big as islands, or as huge as moons.  They orbited slowly 
around the perimeter of the floating Arena floor.  

Each globe seemed composed of two kinds of stone - each had a 
light half, and a dark half.  One of them detached itself from 
the orbital path and hovered above the two teams, the light 
stone facing Mary and the dark side facing Xelloss.

[Destruction Shall Choose The First Challenger,] the Referee 
intoned.

"Oh, well," Xelloss replied, tossing his head back and forth.  
"Let me see.  Hmm.  Well, how about we start with Mr. Cage?  
He's back from the dead and all.  I'm sure he's eager to get 
back into the swing of things, right, Johnny?"

The movie star turned zombie stepped forward and mugged.  The 
effect of his practiced spotlight smile was somewhat dampened by 
the fact that his skin was a sort of nasty greenish hue, and 
seemed to be flaking off in places.  "Yeah, man!" he agreed.  
"On with the show!"

Streaks of deep purple light burst forth from the surface of the 
dark stone, carving their way along the smooth face of the 
globe.  The light resolved itself into patterns, which became 
runes.  It was no language that any of them had ever seen, yet 
all found that they could make sense of the glowing characters 
which had been set into the globe.  It was as if they had been 
written in some primal tongue, buried deep in the subconscious, 
common to every human mind.  The runes spelled out the name of 
Johnny Cage.

[Life Shall Choose The First Champion.]

"Allow me," came the voice of the Great Yaga.  "I believe it 
would be fitting for me to begin the contest.  I shall fight in 
the first..."

"YAGA!" snarled Lina.  "What are you DOING?"

But it was too late.  Streaks of golden light burst forth from 
the surface of the light stone, etching Yaga's name into the 
smooth finish of the stone opposite Cage's runes.  Lina glared 
at the big man, enraged.  "What are you thinking?" she demanded.

"I believe I should handle this," Yaga said.  "As Ultra's Head 
Booker, I'm most qualified to determine..."

"This isn't booking!" Lina shouted.  "Your experience doesn't 
mean anything, Yaga!"

"Of course it does..."

"No!"  The small sorceress glared up at the muscular wrestler.  
"Get it through your head, buster.  This is NOT sports-
entertainment!  We aren't here to 'book' interesting matches.  
We're not here to cater to rivalries or entertain the crowd.  We 
are here to win!  That's it!  That's all!"

Yaga seemed about to protest, but the look in Lina's eyes 
brought him up short.  He took a deep breath, then bowed his 
head slightly towards her.  "Very well," he acknowledged with 
stiff pride.  "I concede the point.  Who decides the matches, 
then?"

"That's Mary's job," Lina said.

"Yes," the young messiah agreed.  "But Yaga, I do want to hear 
what you have to say, if you have a suggestion.  Just... don't 
make any decisions like that until we're ready.  All right?"

"You are most gracious," the veteran fighter said.

Lina seemed satisfied, and turned back towards the enemy team.  
"All right, looks like we're stuck with this.  We can't change 
our pick, can we?"

[The Choice Has Been Made.]

"Thought so."

[The Conditions Are Normal,] the Referee said.  [The Setting Is 
The Borderlands Of Hades.]

"Wait, wait!" Lina called out.  "What does that mean?  I thought 
we were fighting here!  And what's this about conditions?"

[The Setting Shall Be Duplicated Within The Arena,] the Referee 
clarified.  [The Location Is Chosen At Random.  The Replica Will 
Conform To The Boundaries Of Each Given Contest.]

"And the conditions?"

[Combat Without Interference Within The Established Boundaries.  
Battle Continues Until One Fighter Falls For The Count Of Ten, 
Or Until A Fighter Declares Surrender.  These Are The Normal 
Conditions.]

"What," she asked, "are abnormal conditions?"

[A Random Possibility Has Been Assigned,] the gargoyle droned.  
[Special Stipulations Will Be Set For Victory In Certain 
Matches.  You Will Be Informed In Advance If This Is The Case.]

"Oh," the sorceress said.  "We get told after we decide who 
fights?"

[Correct.]

"Right."

The sphere with the two names, each pulsing from the light some 
internal eldritch furnace, shifted back into the orbital path, 
and a fresh sphere took its place.  The voice of the Referee 
washed across them in its leaden tones.  

[Life Shall Choose The Second Challenger.]

"Oh, we take turns picking first," Lina observed.  "Is that how 
it works?"

[Correct.]

"Right.  Okay, Mary.  Who do you choose?"

The Prophet of Life felt her mouth go dry.  "Um... let me see.  
Does anyone have any suggestions?"

Yaga seemed about to say something, but though the better of it.  
The rest of the Life team shifted and fidgeted.  They all wanted 
to volunteer, but at the same time none of them were quite 
confident enough to step forward.  

Lina Inverse took a deep breath.  "Okay, look.  Let's try to get 
our most experienced people out in front tonight.  And by 
experienced, I mean people who've had to fight in high-pressure 
situations, where lives are at stake.  Right?"

Mary nodded.  That gave her a starting point.  She considered 
the faces of her fighters, thought about what she knew of each 
of their backgrounds.  "Okay.  Then... let's choose Duo Maxwell 
for the second fight."

"Sounds good to me," Duo agreed.  With a noise like steaming 
water erupting through a fissure in the earth, Duo's name etched 
itself in golden runes onto the surface of the dual-hued globe.

[Destruction Shall Choose The Second Champion.]

Xelloss hummed and frowned and made a big show of pretending 
like he was thinking it over.  Lina wondered how much of it was 
an act - she thought that Xelloss really did decide things on a 
whim once and a while, but more often than not he was as crafty 
a strategist as Sun Tzu.  The ditzy act was all part of his 
camouflage.

"Well, since you're choosing one of your biggest fighters," he 
said, "how about I choose one of my smallest!  Bulleta?  Why 
don't you take this one?"

"Golly, widdle me?" squealed pint-sized maniac.   "That's so 
nice of you, Mr. Xelloss!"

And B.B. Hood's name blazed its way onto the booking sphere.

"Her?" Duo choked in astonishment.  "You're putting a little kid 
like that up against a Gundam?  Man, maybe I should fight this 
one without DeathScythe."

"You'll do no such thing," Lina shot back.  "Remember why we're 
here.  If it's an easy win, it's an easy win."  But she didn't 
think it would be.  She didn't know how it would happen, but she 
had a feeling that Duo would have his hands full dealing with 
his miniscule foe.  

[The Conditions Are Search-And-Destroy.  The Setting Is Planetoid 77A-6 In 
The Pleiades Sector.]

"Search and destroy?" Lina glowered. "What the hell does that mean?"

[It Is Not So Different From The Normal Conditions. Search-And-Destroy Means 
There Will Be Some Seeking Between The Combatants Before They Can Fight.]

"Great. I'm sure there'll be a whole bunch of places for a Gundam to hide on 
Planetoid... what was it?"

[The Setting Is Planetoid 77A-6 In The Pleiades Sector.]

Duo scratched his head. "Where the heck is that?"

Lina shrugged.  "Sounds like the sort of place we always used to 
hold Omega fights to me.  I guess you'll find out the details 
when it comes time to fight."

[Destruction,] the Referee announced as the globes shifted, and 
a fresh sphere positioned itself above their heads, [Shall 
Choose The Third Challenger.]

"Well now," Xelloss began.  He flipped a few coins, rolled a few 
dice, and then looked thoughtful.  "I know!  Let's have a little 
tag-team action tonight, shall we?  Haohmaru and Morrigan will 
do the honors!"

"ENLIGHTENMENT!" erupted Haohmaru, right on cue.  "LET THE 
MINSTRELS SING OF THIS GLORIOUS CONFRONTATION!  LET THE T-SHIRTS 
BE PRINTED!  LET THE DVD VERSION OF OUR BATTLE CONTAIN A HOST OF 
SPECIAL FEATURES!"

"Moron," Lina muttered.

[Life Shall Choose The Third Champion.]

Mary considered for only a moment.  She thought that she could, 
if push came to shove, create a tag team by pairing any two of 
her fighters, or separate the teams and let the members fight 
solo.  But there wasn't any point to that, at least not at the 
moment.  Both her tag teams were experienced, but Team Rocket 
seemed more nervous.  "Bean Bandit and Tifa Lockheart will 
fight," she announced.

The runes flared.  Bean seemed to pale a bit, his lantern jaw 
set like a rock formation, but Tifa gave Mary a confident nod.

[The Conditions Are Tag-Team Standard.  The Setting Is Central 
Park, New York, Planet Earth.]

"Central Park?" Bean growled at the Referee.  "Don't you care 
about property damage or nothin'?"

[The Setting Is A Replica.  The Real Location Will Not Be 
Affected.]

"Oh yeah," the Roadbuster said, chagrined.  "Forgot about that."

Three of the globes had now been filled with runes dictating who 
would fight.  One of the remaining three clean spheres floated 
into place.

[Life Shall Choose The Fourth Challenger.]

Mary wiped a sheen of sweat from her forehead.  This was as 
grueling as fighting in a match, in its own way.  Opposite her, 
Xelloss had produced a book of crossword puzzles, studying it as 
if he didn't have a care in the world.  She hated to admit that 
his nonchalant act was getting to her, but it was.  

To settle her heart, she reached for something which always gave 
her comfort.

"I choose Dan Hibiki!" she announced.

"OOSHA!" Dan shouted, manly tears suddenly bursting from his 
eyes.  "Stone Cold Taunting Legend Dan Hibiki shall not let you 
down!  Mighty are his fists!  Mighty are his feet!  Mighty, 
even, are his armpits!"

[Destruction Shall Choose The Fourth Champion.]

Xelloss seemed to take a particular delight in this moment.  He 
scanned his fighters, letting his eyes rest momentarily on Dark 
Schneider before looking away.  The handsome sorcerer grimaced - 
he seemed to realize he'd been passed over.  The Mazoku knew 
that the legendary wizard ached to fight Dan, but it wouldn't do 
to give the man everything he wanted so soon.

He eyed Sephiroth for a moment, who also had a history of 
despising the Pink Wonder.  The Prophet of Destruction cocked 
his head, considered for a longer moment, then finally said:  
"How about... B-ko?  Yes, I think that would be good."

The lavender-haired mecha-queen threw back her head and laughed 
heartily.  "A fool like that? I shall crush him easily!" she 
vaunted as her name seared its way into the stone of the booking 
sphere.

[The Conditions Are Normal.  The Setting Is Graviton High, In 
Japan Of Planet Earth.]

Mary blinked in surprise.  That location - B-ko's old high 
school - seemed more than just a choice of coincidence.  Did the 
Referee have some sort of hidden criterion for choosing the 
place of the fights?

The spheres shifted again, and the fifth of them swung its way 
into position.  Its polished surface gleamed dully in the faint 
light of the stars.

[Destruction Shall Choose The Fifth Challenger.]

Xelloss produced a mug of coffee from beneath his cloak, sipped 
it for an agonizingly long moment, then feigned surprise.  "Oh!" 
he exclaimed.  "Well, according to my coffee grounds, I need to 
pick... M. Bison!"

The crimelord let out a satisfied rumble.  "Ah," he hissed.  "It 
will be good to be back on the battlefield.  I have to make up 
for a bit of lost time."  A laugh like crumbling marble rolled 
out of his throat.  "Now, who shall be my victim?"

[Life Shall Choose The Fifth Champion,] the Referee stated.

Mary began to say that it would be Sagat, but then she stopped 
herself.  She watched Xelloss as he dumped creamer from a tiny 
silver pot into his coffee mug, seemingly oblivious to the 
proceedings around him.  'That would be the most obvious 
choice,' she thought to herself.  'But does that make it the 
right one?  Or maybe it IS the right choice, and he's trying to 
psych me out into...'

She shook her head once, definitively.  Trying to second-guess a 
Mazoku was a surefire road to paralytic confusion.  She surveyed 
the fighters again, trying to clear her mind, listening to the 
voice of her heart.  If she couldn't trust that, she could trust 
nothing.

'Not Sagat,' she thought, the whispering voice in her head 
confident and sure.  'Not this time.'

So she looked elsewhere, and suddenly it came to her.  She 
didn't know from where the intuition had arisen, but it felt 
right, and she spoke without any further hesitation.  
"Ultraman," she said.  "Ultraman will fight this time."

The light on the sphere shimmered and dug through the stone, and 
the runes for Ultraman appeared.  

[The Conditions Are Standard,] the Referee informed them.  [The 
Setting Is The Lake Edwards Salt Flats Of Planet Earth.]

The final sphere moved into place, casting its shadow across the 
assembled warriors.

[Life Shall Choose The Sixth Challenger.]

Mary felt as if she'd been run a marathon, and it still wasn't 
over.  She could sense the eyes of her fighters on her as she 
struggled with the choice.  'A safe choice,' she thought.  
'Someone who can handle the pressure.'  She raised her head and 
called:  "Lina Inverse will fight."

"Oh goody!" Xelloss beamed.  "I do love it when Lina-chan struts 
her stuff.  I always felt disappointed on those shows where she 
wasn't booked, you know.  Seemed wrong, somehow.  And now, 
wonder of wonders, I get to choose who she'll be facing!  This 
is just a thrill for me, I want to say.  A dream come true."

[Destruction Shall Choose The Sixth Champion.]

Naga the White Serpent strode forth, clad in her scandalous 
black leather outfit which served as a sparse frame for her 
voluptuous curves.  "OH-HO-HO-HO-HO!" she belted in her spine-
chilling laugh.  "Obviously, the most fitting opponent for Lina 
in this fight is..."

"Happosai!" Xelloss declared joyously.

"WHAT?" Naga screeched.

"Sweet-o!" the little lecher croaked in lascivious glee.  "Me 
and scrumptious Lina-chan, together at last!"

Lina Inverse made a sour face and glared at Xelloss.  "You're a 
jerk, you know that?"

"Now, now," Xelloss scolded.  "We don't need name-calling here, 
do we?  We're all friends here at the End of Time!"

This was a statement of such blatant absurdity that nobody 
dignified it with a response.

[The Conditions Are Standard,] the gargoyle declared.  [The 
Setting Is The Island Of Bikini On Planet Earth.]

Happosai's globular eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, 
sparkling with tears of perverted joy.  He trembled, and held 
his tiny hands in front of him as if praying.  "The... the 
island of Bikini?" he wheezed.  "Hallelujah!  WOO-HOO!  Here I 
come, BABY!"

On the other side, Lina's face became ashen pale.  She knew that 
Happosai drew his strength from his various descents into 
depravity.  "There's such a place?  Island of Bikini?"  She 
swallowed hard.  "That... doesn't mean what I think it does... 
does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

To her surprise, a large hand fell on her shoulder in a 
comforting gesture.  She turned and came face to face with the 
Great Yaga.  His smile was immediately reassuring.  "Yaga?" she 
said.

"Trust me," he told her.  "In spite of the name, it is a place 
with a sad and shameful history.  Happosai will find nothing 
there he desires."

The color returning to her face, Lina gave him a grateful nod.  
"Tell me about it later, okay?"

"I shall," the wrestler promised.

The last sphere, its runes blazing on both the light and dark 
sides, vectored off into the void to join its companions.  Their 
orbit tightened, and they drew themselves into a spiral around 
the striped gargoyle that was the Referee.  One by one, they 
sank out of sight behind the great stone wings folded behind the 
Referee's back.  

[The First Stage Has Been Decided.  Six Battles Shall Be Fought.  
Six Victors Shall Be Determined.  Go Now, And Return To Your 
Places Of Waiting.  The Time For The Tournament Approaches.]

The carved walls and stands of the Arena faded back into place, 
obscuring the star field once more and restoring the great 
coliseum to its former stately, ominous grandeur.  The two 
teams, exchanging a few final glares at one another, began to 
shuffle their way towards their respective doorways.  

The fighters had all disappeared into their respective 
sanctuaries, leaving only the Prophets of Life and Destruction 
in the Arena, when two figures suddenly burst forth from one of 
the side entrances to the Team of Life's area.  

Hiroshi and Daisuke stared about the almost empty coliseum, eyes 
wide with awe at their first sight of the majestic structure.  
Once again, they'd managed to miss seeing the assembled Team of 
Life - the roster would be as big a surprise to them as it would 
to the audience when the time to fight came. 

"Hey!" shouted Hiroshi to the Referee.  "Excuse me!  I just have 
a question!"

[Ask.]

The energetic announcer cleared his throat, then spread his 
hands wide.  "What about us?"

[You Are Not Participating In The Tournament,] the Referee 
stated.

"Of course we are!" Hiroshi insisted. 

[You Are Not Members Of Either Team,] noted the striped 
gargoyle.  

"No," Daisuke told it.  "We're the announcers."

"Yeah!" Hiroshi agreed.  "Where do we sit when this thing 
starts?  I don't want to be late for the show."

The grey face of the gargoyle showed no expression at all.  
[Announcers Are Not Required.]

"WHAT?" Hiroshi cried in dismay.  "We are SO required!  Um... 
sir," he added quickly.  He wasn't sure what this big thing 
really was, though he expected it had to be some sort of god or 
demon or something.  Nobody had really explained that part to 
him.

[The Witnesses Will Be Present,] the Referee boomed.  [No 
Intermediary Is Needed.]

"That's not the point!" Hiroshi demanded.  "The point is that 
there have to be announcers to call the action, okay?  That's 
just... that's just... that's ULTRA!  All right?"

[This Is The Tournament At The End Of Time.  It Is Not Ultra.]

"Yes it is!" Hiroshi insisted.  "Look, this whole thing is set 
to decide whether we all live or die, right?  So it's OUR 
tournament!  As in the tournament of the people of Earth!  And 
we are calling it Ultra - FINAL Ultra - so by God, it IS Ultra!"

Daisuke nodded his agreement, and both Prophets looked on 
thoughtfully.

"At Ultra, there are announcers!" Hiroshi continued, his voice 
charged with passion.  "And that's us!  We're the announcers, me 
and Daisuke.  We've been here since the beginning, and we HAVE 
to be here at the end!  We deserve this!"

[Why?]

"Because we've given everything for this job!" Hiroshi 
exclaimed.  "Because we've both lost our jobs and struggled 
back!  Because... uh..."

"Because we've died and been cloned," Daisuke commented.  

"We've fought as hard as these fighters!" Hiroshi insisted.  
"And the people expect us to be there!  It won't be right unless 
somebody announces the match, and WE are the ones who have to do 
it!"

The hyperactive commentator took a huge gulp of air, trembling 
and sweating.  Mary stepped forward beside him and addressed the 
gargoyle.

"They have a point," she said.  "It won't change the fights to 
have them announcing, and it's... fitting for them to be here."  
She looked at Xelloss, hoping her face didn't betray her sense 
of anxiety.

"Hmm."  The Mazoku steepled his fingers together and seemed to 
think about it.  "You know, I really don't mind.  It would seem 
sort of lonely without these two lads.  I have no objection."

[The Prophet Of Life And Prophet Of Destruction Are In 
Agreement?] the gargoyle asked.  

"On this matter," Xelloss acknowledged.  "If on nothing else."

"Yes," Mary said.  

[Very Well.  A Place Shall Be Set.  The Announcers Shall Be 
Allowed To Perform Their Duty.]

"Thank you," Hiroshi gasped, beaming.  "Thank you so much."

[And Now, Prepare Yourselves,] the great chiseled Referee 
commanded.  [The Hour Approaches.  The Beginning Is Near.]

- - - - -

They had been given a place to rest in the Ultimate Arena, a 
backstage of their own from which to organize their efforts 
during the contest.  It spread out from a passage which led to 
the fighting area itself, a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers 
all carved in smooth, somber granite.  The actual temperature 
was moderate, but it felt somehow cold all the same.

The crew of This Old Dojo and the rest of the Ultra staff had 
entered this anthill of corridors, determined to make it their 
own.  Their posters and calendars began to appear on the wall, 
pictures of family and friends, their favorite comics and 
drawings.  There was not a whole lot for them to do at this 
event, though none had declined the invitation to come along.  
So they went about breathing their own life and personality into 
these vast, uncaring halls.

Mary found their efforts to be quietly, incredibly brave.

She had her team, and the time had almost come.  They waited in 
their backstage sanctuary, assembled in the order that she had 
planned to introduce them.  She looked out over their faces, her 
guts twisting and knotting about themselves like strings wound 
around the fingers of an amateur trying to learn the cat's 
cradle.  

Most of them were more nervous than she was.  

There were a few exceptions, fortunately.  Lina Inverse seemed 
unaffected by the pressure, and those around her drew strength 
from the breezy confidence she exuded.  Ultraman was hard to 
read.  Duo Maxwell leaned against the wall, his hands folded 
behind his head, as if he were dozing in the sun.  

But most of them were all but terrified.  Li Ping looked 
practically green, and Bean Bandit's eyes darted around like 
those of a trapped animal.  Tendo Akane fidgeted with her hands, 
desperate for something to do, and the normally unshakable Marlo 
wore a haunted look on his face.

'Talk to them,' she told herself.  'Inspire them.  That's why 
you're here.'

She stepped forward, and all heads swiveled, all eyes focused on 
her at once.  She was dismayed to see the looks of distrust and 
uncertainty still coloring the faces of her fighters, but she 
had not proven herself to them, not yet.  It was time to start.

"We are here," she told them soberly, "because the lives of 
billions depend upon us.  I would not have asked you to join 
this team if I did not think you could handle the task."

They listened, silent and apprehensive.

Mary swallowed hard.  "You are all superb fighters.  Each of you 
has proven yourself countless times in battle.  But everything 
you've done, everything you've achieved up to now, has all been 
in preparation for this.  Now, you must fight with everything 
you've got."

It didn't seem to be helping.  Sagat's face was hard and cold, 
Yaga pursed his lips.  Li Ping seemed to be battling to keep his 
lunch down.

"Never forget," she continued, searching for the right words, 
"what is at stake here.  Never forget the innocent lives that 
you will be saving.  Never let yourselves forget that you're 
fighting for them, for all the people out there in the world.  
Their future is in your hands.  Their lives are in the balance."

She saw Akane try to swallow on a dry mouth.  Duo flinched.  Ash 
bit his lip.  Marlo's jaw quivered.  Bean Bandit seemed about to 
faint.

'This isn't working!' she thought desperately, her eyes scanning 
the faces of her fighters.  'I can't...'

"I'm sorry to interrupt," came the voice of Tifa Lockheart.  
"Can I just say something, Mary?"

"Sure," the young messiah said in a hoarse voice.

Tifa patted Bean on his beefy arm, smiled up at him, and calmed 
him with her eyes.  The long-haired fighter strode out in front 
of the rest of the group and took her place beside Mary.

"I've been in this situation before," Tifa told the members of 
the Team of Life.  "And believe me, that doesn't make it any 
easier.  But there's a way to think about this to get yourself 
through it."

Their eyes were riveted upon her face, they hung on her every 
word.  

"You can't think about all the people out there," Tifa told 
them, gently contradicting what Mary had said.  "You know we're 
here to save the world, but that's really just an abstract 
concept.  No person can really know what that means.  If you 
tried to think about it all, tried to take them all into your 
heart, you would simply... burst."

Nods and sighs.  Mary listened with the rest of them.

"There's no shame in that," Tifa continued, her voice strong and 
confident.  "The human heart can only hold so much.  So don't 
try to focus on the big picture.  You aren't here to defend the 
world.  You're here because of the ones you love.  You're here 
for your mother," she said to Ash, "for your fiancee," she said 
to Akane, "for each other," she told Jessie and James.  She 
turned her eyes to Sagat.  "Or you are here for yourself, your 
pride.  For the music you want to hear again, for the sunsets 
you have yet to see."

And their eyes grew clearer as she spoke.  The trembling lips 
stilled, the shaking hands steadied.

"You are here to defend YOUR life," she told them.  "You need 
only think about the people you love, on your own dreams.  You 
can trust that everything else flows from that, like tiny rivers 
feeding into a stream.  A lifestream." 

She scanned them all once more with her eyes.  "We fight 
together," Tifa told the Team of Life.  "Stand, and be true."

And they shouted for her, pumped their fists and nodded in 
affirmation.  Dan howled vows for his beloved father, Duo gave 
Li Ping a hearty high-five, and Team Rocket held hands with Ash 
and raised their arms into the air.  A smile even crossed 
Sagat's hard, grim face, if only for a moment.

'I must remember this,' Mary thought as she watched them, and 
she looked at Tifa with gratitude.  'I will not forget what I've 
learned today.  I can't afford to forget.'

The hour was almost upon them.  

- - - - - 

Statues of ancient warriors lined its edges, carved from marble 
by some unknown hand.  Pillars of stone rose to the heavens, 
supporting the upper rim of the structure at a seemingly 
unfathomable height.  The cavernous ceiling of the Dome yawned 
above, and beams of light pierced the gloom from nowhere, 
centered upon the arena at the center.

It was a place of unknowable vastness, of palpable power.  It 
was the Ultimate Arena.  

Hiroshi and Daisuke gaped around in wonder.  

As immense as this place was, it still didn't seem large enough 
to hold the crowd of six billion which had been invited to 
witness this tournament.  Yet looks were deceptive, especially 
here at the End of Time, where the rules of physics had long 
passed their expiration date and all bets were off.  Hiroshi 
gazed into the crowd, the teeming masses of people from every 
culture and nation in the world, and a peculiar sensation 
overcame him.

The more he looked, the more the crowd seemed to grow.  The 
longer his eyes remained in one spot, the more faces unfolded 
before him, like he was diving into a sea of humanity which 
rushed by him as he plunged further and further into the depths.  
Space distorted itself as he examined the crowd, and he could 
see that they really WERE all here.  All six billion, every 
person who had gotten a ticket.  They overlapped, they unfurled, 
they shifted restlessly as their eyes focused on the Arena.

By the grace of whatever mind-paralyzing power which had 
arranged the Tournament at the End of Time, the entire 
population of the planet Earth would be watching this show.  And 
they all had good seats.

The announcer's area which the Referee had allowed them sat 
positioned at the edge of the Arena.  Around the curving 
perimeter of the coliseum, there had been carved two dugout-like 
areas, in which each of the teams would stand for the show.  The 
Prophet of Life and her team would observe from one side, while 
the Prophet of Destruction and his followers would watch from 
the other.  

Hiroshi tore his eyes away from the endless crowd, and swallowed 
hard.  His mouth seemed to have become a sandy desert.  "Holy 
crap," he croaked quietly.  "I think I'm gonna throw up."

His partner spoke in a voice with a slight quaver.  "Been a long 
time since you did that before a show, Hiro."  He handed Hiroshi 
a glass of water, which had been left thoughtfully on the table.

Hiroshi took the glass gratefully, down a large gulp, then 
splashed himself in the face with the rest.  "What the hell do 
we do, man?  This is... I mean... THIS is..."

"It's Ultra," Daisuke said.  "It's bigger than before, but it's 
still Ultra.  We do what we've always done."

"Call the action," Hiroshi said, and in spite of his pallor, he 
felt himself smiling.

"Work the crowd," Daisuke added, returning his friend's smile.

"And give it everything we've got," Hiroshi finished.  He 
settled himself into his chair, Daisuke beside him, and wrapped 
his fingers around the stem of the microphone.  The 
amplification of his voice was not achieved through speakers or 
electronics, but he had a microphone all the same, and that gave 
him some measure of comfort.

"They're all yours," Daisuke whispered.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Planet Earth!" Hiroshi cried into 
his mike.  "Welcome to the Ultimate Arena!  Welcome to the 
Tournament at the End of Time!  And I have just one question for 
all of you..."  He took a deep breath.  "ARE YOU READY?"

There came the sound of wind, the sound of breath being drawn 
into six billion sets of lungs.

"ARE YOU READY... FOR SOME ULTRAAAAAAAAVIOLENCE?"

An inarticulate scream hammered through the Ultimate Arena, a 
howl of terror and wonder and affirmation from millions upon 
millions of throats.  They had been waiting, frightened and 
unsure, the tickets in their hands, dreading the coming of this 
day and yet looking forward to it with a deep, undeniable 
hunger.  Now, the time had come.  Now, their fates would be 
decided.  Now, Final Ultra would begin.

It made the noise in the UltraDome sound like a bursting soap 
bubble.

Hiroshi braced himself against the onslaught of sound, wall 
after wall of tangible clamor slamming into him and shaking him 
to the bone.  The noise seemed infinite, unimaginable, unending, 
and he let it flood through him, blasting all his fear away.  
This was what he was made for.  This was his place.

"All RIGHT!" he shouted back to the crowd as their shouts 
finally abated.  "My name is Hiroshi, and this is my partner 
Daisuke!  I speak for both of us when I say that we are PROUD 
and HONORED to be here in front of you all, bringing you what 
is, without a doubt the greatest spectacle that the world has 
ever seen!"

"And quite possibly the last," Daisuke noted darkly.

"NOT if these folks can help, it, my man!" Hiroshi cried.  
"Ladies and gents, may I now present to you the defenders of the 
world, the champions of our planet, the TEAM OF LIFE!"

This was one moment that everybody had been eagerly waiting for.  
Speculation had run wild and uncontrolled across the whole 
planet since the final images of Nabiki leaving with the Ultra 
team through Washuu's gateway had been broadcast across the 
airwaves.  The crowd leaned forward, all desperate to get a look 
at the handful of fighters upon whom the burden of their 
salvation would fall.

"And to begin," Hiroshi said, as the spotlights zeroed in on the 
entrance to the Life dugout, "here's the person you've all been 
waiting to meet, the Prophet of Life herself... Hakubi Mary!"

Mary emerged into the light amidst a storm of confused murmurs 
and incredulous gasps.  She had abandoned her referee's outfit, 
since that was no longer her place in the scheme of things, and 
had instead decided on a simple white dress for the occasion, 
along with a green headband to keep her hair out of her eyes.  

Daisuke noted the crowd's unease at the revelation of the 
Prophet of Life's identity.  "It looks like not many people 
expected Mary to be the choice."

"In the official Prophet of Life betting pool in Las Vegas, 
Nevada," Hiroshi informed them, "Mary was a longshot of roughly 
twenty-eight thousand to one!  Hey, buddy, even YOU were higher 
on the list!"

Daisuke blinked.  "What were my odds?"

"Four hundred and eighteen to one," Hiroshi said.  "Me?  I was a 
three hundred and thirty-five to one favorite!"

"You call that a favorite?" Daisuke asked wryly.

"Compared to Mary?  Yeah."

"Fair enough," the cynical announcer acquiesced. 

"Looks like our Prophet of Life has a few words to say to the 
audience," Hiroshi observed as Mary stepped forward, a 
microphone floating out of the sky towards her.  

Mary took the microphone, her chin held high, her eyes clear and 
bright as she looked over the sea of faces.  There was no 
tremble in her voice, no hesitation in her words.  Her 
confidence alone settled the unquiet audience, and brought an 
uneasy, anxious silence to the Ultimate Arena.  

"Most of you do not know me, and have no reason to trust me," 
Mary said to the population of Earth.  "But I know what is at 
stake.  I know my responsibility.  Each and every one of your 
lives is more precious to me than my own.  My soul is with you.  
My heart is with you.  And I swear to you tonight, no matter 
what is demanded of me in the course of this trial, I will not 
let you down."

A cheer arose from the crowd.  It was not a deafening roar by 
any stretch, but there was a sort of hopeful tinge to it.  They 
still didn't know her, but the sincerity in her eyes and voice 
had, at least, reached some of them.

"I want to introduce my team to you now," Mary continued.  
"They're the ones who will really be doing all the work, and to 
even come as far as they have is something to be proud of."

"This is what everyone's been waiting for," Hiroshi commentated.  
"Who will be the champions of justice?  Who will stand up and 
defend us from destruction?  The fate of the world hinges on 
Mary's choices!"

"The first tag team," Mary said, "is Jessie and James of Team 
Rocket."

The fashion-conscious Pokemon trainers stepped out into the 
spotlights, waving cheerfully and beaming at the crowd.  A 
careful observer would have noted a slight quiver in their step, 
though - even the popular duo felt the pressure of such an 
unfathomably huge audience.

A fairly hearty round of applause greeted them, though it was 
mixed with not an inconsiderable amount of dubious murmurs.

"How about that?" Hiroshi cried gleefully.  "Here to truly 
'protect the world from devastation' is one of Ultra's longest-
standing tag teams!"

"Oh great," Daisuke moaned, banging his head on the table.  
"We're doomed."

To his surprise, Hiroshi turned to him sharply, with a look that 
was both angry and somewhat hurt.  "Look, buddy, don't you think 
it's about time to drop this jerk-head act of yours?"

Daisuke blinked in surprise.  "What?"

"I mean, I know you've been getting back at me," Hiroshi 
continued, his voice a bit tight.  "Fine, that's cool, I don't 
care.  But maybe you can show a little support here for once, 
huh?  I mean, Jessie and James WERE your teammates in CHAOS, 
right?  Of course, so were Shingo and Sakura, but that didn't 
stop you from trashing them."

The normally laconic announcer felt at a loss for words.  
"Hiro... um..."

"I think things have changed here, my man," the pale clone 
pressed.  "And maybe it's about time you stopped sniping away at 
your friends, just to be contrary.  What do you say?"

Both Hiroshi's vehemence and the genuine pain underlying his 
friend's tone astonished Daisuke.  "Look... all I'm saying is 
that I'm worried about this first choice.  I mean, Jessie and 
James are my friends, okay, but look at their record!  They have 
a history of getting pasted by stronger foes and winning through 
flukes."

"Yeah?" Hiroshi replied.  "Well, when the world's at stake, I 
think we can use all the luck we can get.  And those two," he 
jabbed his finger towards the white-clad pair, "have got luck."

"Okay, okay," Daisuke backed down, his hands held out 
placatingly.  

Back within the circumference of the Arena, Mary continued her 
introduction.  "The second team is Tifa Lockheart and Bean 
Bandit, the Roadbusters," she told the crowd.

The applause which greeted Tifa and Bean was stronger and more 
confident as the two strode forth into the light.  

"Bean looks a little pale," Daisuke commented, still feeling a 
bit reticent after Hiroshi's unexpected tirade.  

"Yeah," his partner agreed, back to his exuberant self, "but 
check out Tifa!  Look at the determination in her eyes, man!  I 
don't think I've ever seen her so fired up!"

Indeed, Tifa Lockheart radiated grim confidence and a warrior's 
fire.  She took the lead of the two, Bean following slightly in 
her wake, and thrust both her fists into the air in a powerful, 
defiant gesture.  The crowd rained down its screams of approval.

Mary continued with her introductions, and Lina Inverse appeared 
next into the spotlights.  The red-haired sorceress wore a cocky 
smile and had a twinkle in her eye as she raised a thumbs-up to 
the crowd.  The assembled witnesses to the tournament roared in 
approval.

"A very warm reception for Lina," Daisuke said, his own voice 
somewhat relieved.  "I think we're all glad to see her on the 
team."

"You bet," Hiroshi agreed enthusiastically.  "There's one gal 
you don't want on the sidelines when the world at stake!  She 
was a heavy favorite with the pundits to be Prophet of Life, but 
maybe it's better to have her as a fighter instead."

"Could the Prophet of Life have been a fighter, too?" Daisuke 
asked.

"Dunno.  Xelloss didn't put himself on his own team, but that 
doesn't mean he couldn't have."

"Hmm."

Mary continued.  Next up was Akane, who drew a mixed reaction - 
in spite of her recent ascension through the ranks of Ultra, it 
still seemed a lot of people didn't really believe she had what 
it took.  Even greater unease followed the introduction of Ash 
Ketchum, whose recent descent into near-insanity had left the 
audience wondering how reliable he really was.

When the Great Yaga was introduced, the cheers had all but 
evaporated, and waves of discontented murmurs rippled through 
the assembled crowd.

"Yaga?" Hiroshi blurted, surprised.  "What the heck did she pick 
THAT guy for?"

"I thought you were going to be supportive," Daisuke said.

"Yeah... but... it's Yaga!" Hiroshi spread his hands in a 
helpless gesture.  "He's a total jerk!  A stuck-up, devious 
bastard, right?"

"Maybe," Daisuke speculated, "when the world is on the line, you 
want a devious bastard or two on your side, too."

"Huh."  Hiroshi scratched his head thoughtfully.

Li Ping got a few more cheers when he was introduced, but the 
crowd seemed anxious.  He hadn't exactly proven himself to the 
fans of Ultra as a consistent winner.  He seemed very nervous, 
and nearly tripped as he stepped out to be introduced.  

Following him, Marlo Semanj got a somewhat heartier round of 
applause.  Here, at least, was a known quantity, though the 
crowd did not greet with unconditional approval.  

"Geez, there are some strange picks on this team," Hiroshi 
muttered.  

"Starting with the Prophet herself, I'd say," Daisuke agreed.

But the strangest pick was yet to come.  When Mary announced 
Sagat's name to the crowd, Hiroshi checked his ears, as if they 
could somehow have malfunctioned.  But the bald, copper-skinned 
fighter stepped forward into the light, his single eye 
glittering hard and cold as he regarded the vast sea of faces.

"SAGAT?" Hiroshi cried, unable to contain his despair.  "What 
the hell is that girl THINKING?"

"He's tough," Daisuke provided, but he seemed pretty shaken too.

"So are a lot of people!" Hiroshi shot back.  "You want to put 
your life in HIS hands?  Oh, this is a bad dream.  It has to 
be."

"Supportive, Hiro.  We're being supportive," Daisuke mumbled, 
wiping a bead of sweat from his eye. 

The crowd was reacting much as Hiroshi, with shouts of outrage 
and despair crackling out like snaps of angry lightning from the 
general cloudy murmurs of uncertainty.  Sagat snorted slightly, 
his face full of disdain for the population of Earth, then took 
his place along his teammates in the dugout.

"I hope she has someone better up her sleeve," Daisuke said, 
noting the crowd's restless anxiety.

"It would be hard to get much worse!" Hiroshi lamented.  "I 
mean, Bison's already been taken by the other side, at least!  
Who's she going to choose now, Vega?  Charles Manson?  An undead 
version of Attila the Hun?"

But Hiroshi's pessimism turned out to be groundless.  The next 
figure that strode into view did so on feet the size of tanks, 
armored in indestructible Gundanium alloy, his steps sending 
great metallic echoes through the Ultimate Arena.  Shouts of joy 
and relief rose high into the air as Duo Maxwell popped the 
cockpit of the Gundam DeathScythe and pumped his fist into the 
air for the crowd.

"Now that's more like it!" Hiroshi bellowed.

Duo turned towards the announcer's table for a moment, and 
Daisuke gave his friend a salute.  "Good to see him out there," 
the announcer said.

The cheers grew even louder and stronger for the next member of 
the team, as the crimson and silver form of Ultraman, the Giant 
of Light emerged into view.  Long before MCTFF Ultra had ever 
existed, the Ultramen had served as protectors of the planet 
Earth from all manner of menaces from the stars, and people 
remembered.  Many of the onlookers who had never watched a 
single episode of Ultra stood up and shouted with joy, their 
hearts lifted by the sight of the familiar heroic form of an 
Ultraman amongst the ranks of the team.

But none of the cheering so far matched the deafening explosion 
of applause which burst through the coliseum as the Prophet of 
Life introduced the final member of her team.  Once upon a time, 
he had been a loser, the joke of the fighting world.  But trial 
after trial, he had stood before the deadliest foes and most 
perilous challenges, and somehow he always seemed to find the 
path to victory.  Pink gi resplendent in the light, mighty 
forearm flexing, manly tears flowing down his face... 

"YAHOOIE!" erupted Stone Cold Taunting Legend, Dan Hibiki.  "FOR 
EARTH!  FOR ULTRA!  OYAAJIII!"

Dan rolled and flexed and worked the crowd, basking in the 
adulation, a pink dynamo bathed in spotlights.  

"Well," Daisuke said as the applause finally began to die down, 
and Dan took his place alongside his teammates, "that's it.  
That's the team." 

"Good to see Dan out there," Hiroshi told his co-announcer, "but 
I have to say, there are some pretty weird choices.  Don't you 
think?"

"Maybe," Daisuke replied thoughtfully.

"I mean, where's Ranma?" Hiroshi continued.  "What about Shingo 
and Sakura, or Washuu?  What's the logic behind picking Sagat 
when you could've just called up Ryu?  Why not call out some of 
the real heavy hitters, like Son Goku or Ifurita?  I don't know 
if you noticed, man, but the bad guys have more Omega-level 
firepower than we do."

"I did notice," his partner said gravely.

Hiroshi shook his head, mystified.  "Very strange team that Ms. 
Hakubi Mary has put together.  I guess she's the Prophet of 
Life, though.  She can do what she wants."

"Yes," Daisuke said, nodding slowly as if Hiroshi had actually 
said something quite wise.  "You're right."

"Huh?"

"Well think about it."  Daisuke turned to his friend and leaned 
on an elbow.  "If it were you or me putting together the team, 
or practically anybody, we would have done things a certain way.  
There might have been a little variation, but the choices for 
the Life team seemed l