With the last baked oblong tuber eaten, the Ranma that had crashed down to earth hours prior sat back atop a rock. Patting his, (for the moment) full stomach, the warrior from the planet Ranma let off a satisfied belch. “Oooooh YEAH! Now this planet has good food. It was a good find on the part of Professor Ranma... that stupid little pacifist.”
Having eaten his fill for the moment, the Ranma brought his hand up to his mouth, wiping it with the back of his hand. His hand moving from the front of his face to the left side of his head, he pressed a button on the small device over his eye. “And now it’s time to find the wayward son...”
The small green visor beeped to life, numbers sprawling across the bottom for a little. Grunting as he was getting numerous, NUMEROUS tiny signatures, he frowned. Damn, he couldn’t believe there was nothing considerable out here. Not even one reading went over six-hundred!
“Still...” the Ranma said slowly. “I’m sure he’s one of the HIGHEST on the planet. Even without proper training or actual battles, his natural genetics must have boosted him to the greatest caliber this pathetic planet has ever seen for a fighter.” And all he had to do was isolate the numbers...
The time it took was insignificant, and soon he got a listing of the world’s highest readings.
334
322
310
“Absurd! Only three are above three hundred!?” It was an insult that not only could this planet obviously not produce a worthy challenge, but there was the distinct possibility that a RANMA was amongst those power readings! A Ranma that was only over three hundred!
“...This world must have made him soft.” The Ranma surmised. Suddenly feeling a little less than excited at the prospect of there being another Ranma alive, he was actually feeling insulted and his confidence in this one’s abilities dropped. Not enough to make him certain that the Ranma wasn’t within this group, but that he obviously had to be the weakest.
So using the adaptable GPS function of his Scanner, Ranma awaited. Again, with such technology, the wait was miniscule. After all, a Ranma had not the patience for waiting, and things either did their purpose fast or ended up broken.
Turning his head to the West, the Ranma narrowed his eyes. “THAT WAY!” He shouted. And with a sudden show of Buku-jutsu skill, his body levitated and went flying off; his chi propelling him towards the direction of his target.
(------)
Sitting on his throne, the leader of the Musk Dynasty sat patiently in his royal chambers. Off to the side, on a small altar, incense was being burned, filling the room with a sweet yet earthy, musky aroma. He was in a state of meditation, trying to hone his mind besides his body. After all, a successful ruler needed to excel in all aspects.
It was a harsh lesson learned. In his rush to extend his lineage, he’d gotten himself cursed, needed to go to Japan to get the cure, and he’d ended up being beaten by a human martial artist. A HUMAN! He was a Musk of royal lineage, descendant of a dragon! And he lost to a simple human being! And then after being beaten, when everything seemed to be going to hell, his life was saved by that person, and he’d owed him a life debt in return. A pledge that he owed him a favor, any favor, for saving his life.
As much as such a loss irked Herb considerably, it was a valuable learning experience. Humans were obviously more advanced than they believed. While short-lived and weak, they could possess indomitable spirits that would refuse to be broken down no matter what duress they were forced under. In fact, in Ranma, it seemed that trying to hinder him only pushed the human further to do what he needed to.
Truly, it was an aspect Herb respected and would try to not only to emulate, but expand upon. Hence, why he tried to not only train his body and mind, but his soul...
However, he would not get to contemplate what happened in his life or practice his meditation further. It was sudden, surprising as part of the ceiling caved in, as something crashed down, letting the sunlight of early day into the room.
Herb was quick to action, standing up from his throne and growling angrily. “What is this non-SAOTOME!?”
The pigtailed warrior ignored the cry for a moment,
His eyes wide, Herb couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Standing before him was the very individual that had beaten him... he was taller now, broader-shouldered... but his face, his eyes. It was Saotome, yet it couldn’t have been. No person, not even a human could change so much in so little time.
The look on this man’s face, on Ranma’s face... spoke only of superiority, arrogance, and unwavering cruelty. Admittedly, Herb knew that Ranma could be guilty of the first two at times, but cruelty just wasn’t in his nature.
Looking the man over, Ranma knew that this was indeed the target with only a rating of three-hundred and ten. “Damn, looks like I wasted my time...” he shook his head. “Ah well, looks like I better get to work.” He cracked his knuckles. This prick was powerful enough to grab the attention of his scanner and NOT be a Ranma? He needed to be shown his proper place.
Seeing the intent in the other man’s eyes, Herb knew he couldn’t allow such an abomination a chance to strike. Wasting no time, the man of dragon descent launched himself from before his throne and into the air, past his opponent. As he went flying, the Musk Prince released a quick and powerful blast of chi at the ground, causing it to ricochet and hit his opponent from an impossible angle; right to the small of his back.
However, as he came to his feet, Herb was shocked. Not only was this man still standing, he was scratching his ass!? The Soaring Dragon Spirit did NOTHING!?
Slowly turning to his opponent, the man chuckled darkly. “Man, you’re weak. But at least I know you’re not the one I’m looking for.”
“Not the one...” Herb didn’t consider it further. This was obviously a dangerous individual that needed to be taken down, NOW!
Smirking as he saw the growl on the smaller being’s face, Ranma asked, “What’s your problem, small fry? Shit yourself?”
Growling more at the insult, Herb told this familiar-seeming opponent, “No, but you will when you see THIS!” Not wasting any time, Herb lashed out with one of his favorite techniques: the Flying Sword of the Dragon.
Raising an eyebrow, Ranma’s scanner beeped a little as it caught sight of the rise in energy. He could see as the feminine male with the tri-colored hair began to generate blade-like shapes of pure chi.
“Take... THIS!” Prince Herb shouted as he threw them at his opponent.
Raising his hand, Ranma quickly used his left hand to catch each of the five blades in the palm of his hand. Closing his fingers, he dispelled the chi rather easily. “Not bad. Those were a kittle on the weak side, but a valid tactic.”
His eyes wide, Herb stared at his opponent in disbelief. Those blades were so sharp, that they could slice off the tops of mountains! “What the hell are you?”
Grinning, the individual with the scar on his left cheek answered, “I’m a Ranma, the very best of the best.” Showing off his teeth, he asked, “Is it my turn?”
His body tensing up, Herb knew this was only going to get worse...
(------)
“Waste of time...” the Ranma grumbled as he stood in the middle of the Musk Citadel, the tower fallen over as many of the other buildings stood as rubble, with sparse bits of fire here and there. Bodies littered the grounds en masse; some dead, some injured.
And not one of them offered any challenge. After he took down the Prince, the other people of this city came at him in droves. He hoped maybe the sheer numbers would offer some challenge, some entertainment. There were only two just above one-hundred and the others ranged between sixty and eighty.
Well, he’d taken care of them and had enough. He had to get back on track and find that missing Ranma. So raising his hand to his scanner once more, the visor-like computer went to work again. Maybe rating three-hundred and twenty-two would offer some challenge.
So crouching down, the Ranma then shot upwards and went flying, heading towards the source of that power reading.
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(Posted Tue, 10 Oct 2006 17:15)
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