And that was how Ranma ended up getting his slave, a Lycanthrope named Britanny...
Ranma never knew that there was truly such a thing as a werecreature before he met Britanny, the ‘werewolf’ slaves he had seen, he thought were just genetically-engineered humans... but the fact she was a freaking CAT turned him off considerably. Upon seeing her as the auctioneer pointed off what he had available as a prize for the young man, the pigtailed youth had backed up considerably and was already rejecting her as a possibility...
Until the Auctioneer started listed her data. Sure, the measurements didn’t mean anything to him, nor the fact of what she was, weaknesses and care tips... but she was meant as a mamluk, and she had considerable strength and speed. All great things for a sparring partner.
But the clincher had been why she was a slave. She hadn’t been born into it, she hadn’t been captured... her family had gone into debt with the US government, and somehow, it was tied to being her fault. Her own SISTER had sold her to get the money needed and after being bounced around a bit from market to market, the auctioneer was looking to sell her.
Realizing that she had been born free, and she had been sold by FAMILY... it just didn’t sit right with him! So Ranma chose her, not because she was a rarity, not because owning a Lycanthrope was actually seen as a status symbol, a physical mark of prestige and greatness... he did it because his own sense of honor couldn’t let him sit by.
And so he chose her, the woman known formerly as Britanny Elin Diggers... although as a slave, her family name was now moot, and he was even being suggested to refer to her as just ‘Cheetah’, not only be the auctioneer, but surprisingly enough, by the slave herself.
At the most, he’d only had her by his side for a week total time, even if the tournament had been two months ago. The fact was that Lycanthrope biology tended to fight off much of the ‘programming’ that slaves had to be put through. A Lycanthrope’s Toxic Immunity tended to fight off the chemical therapy for attitude adjustment, not to mention their minds weren’t easily altered by the technology used for skill-installation.
So understandably, to own a Lycanthrope tended to take A LOT of work... and taking them back for constant ‘maintenance’ was what made owning one a mark of greatness and wealth... it was EXPENSIVE to get them ‘re-programmed’ as it were.
It wasn’t that Britanny fought him, not at all... but she was very sad for the most part and besides being a body-guard, there weren't any other useful skills... the Slavery Planning and Maintenance Commission, (or the SPAMC) wouldn't allow for a Lycanthrope Slave to be in such a state. After all, it meant she wasn’t a true slave, and could easily become an endangerment to herself and others. Hence, why she was being constantly taking back in for further ‘maintenance’.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at this, Cheetah’s programming was actually being paid for via the Auctioneer that gave her to Ranma as part of a contract agreement with his local SPAMC Contact. It was part of the license to being a Slave Auctioneer. Slavery was a lucrative business, but one had to spend money to make money, and the annual fees to keep said license, all the standards to follow, not to mention surprise inspections, could be killer.
And now on the latest leg of their training trip, Ranma was given a letter by a SPAMC Courier. Cheetah was ‘finished’. They had gotten the reprogramming and new skill installation to take by 81.32%. 80% was the bare minimum of success one had to have to own a Lycanthrope Slave. And with the success of the attitude adjustment and skill installation, the auctioneer’s responsibility was up.
Meaning that for the ‘slave kennel’ where she was being kept, the money for her internment was now going to come out of THEIR pockets! Hence, why Ranma's old man was rushing them back. If they didn’t get there before nightfall, they were going to have to pay for her overnight stay.
“C’mon, boy! HURRY!” Genma shouted as he pulled Ranma along by the wrist. “We have to get there before nine! It’s ten minutes to!”
“Argh! Damn it, Pops! Slow down!” Ranma shouted as he stumbled slightly, but managed to, thanks to quick reflexes, stay on his feet and keep up with the old man.
The two ran like madmen, mostly because Genma was the one in such a rush. They ran past people, through traffic, (causing angry honking from behind) and taking a few short-cuts through ally-ways and onto roof-tops. It would be that they entered the city ward from one end while the Slave Kennel was on the other side...
“Sheesh...” Ranma grumbled. “Why’d we have to on the other side of the city when they notified us?”
“Rotten luck!” Genma shouted angrily. Then, suddenly, he realized he could see it in the distance now. The large sign of ‘Lily Hills Servant Farm’ was very visible. “THERE IT IS!” He screamed as he picked up the speed and started dragging his son.
“OW, OW OWW!” Ranma shouted as his old man practically tore into hims with his grip. “HEY! I CAN WALK, POPS!”
“NOT FAST ENOUGH!” Genma shouted he crossed the rest of the distance with great ease, kicking a leg out and slamming the door open as he ran right up to the receptionist desk. He practically threw Ranma onto his knees before the blonde woman sitting on the other side. “G-go get your slave,” the portly man managed to gasp out between breaths.
Staring at his old man over his shoulder, Ranma gave the pudgy patriarch an angry glare. Finally, he turned back to the receptionist and said, “Heya... I’m here for a pickup...”
The blonde woman nodded her head as she turned to the computer on her desk. “Name?”
“Saotome. Saotome, Ranma.” Ranma said seriously as he watched the woman type.
There was a small ‘bing’ sound from the computer and the woman nodded her head. “Slave’s name?”
“Her name’s Diggers. Diggers, Britanny.” Ranma answered.
The woman typed it in. She frowned as there was an audible ‘buzz’. “I’m sorry. We have you on record, but we don't have a ‘Britanny’ here.”
Wincing slightly, Ranma corrected. “Cheetah. The slave’s name is 'Cheetah'.”
The woman typed it in and again, there was a ‘bing’ this time. “Ah, you’re the man who owns the werecheetah... I have to say, I’m a little jealous...” the woman grinned up at the pigtailed youth. “Lycanthropes are such a rarity for slaves, especially werecheetahs after the massacre back in the Seventies...”
Ranma blinked his eyes at that. “Massacre?”
The woman nodded. “Oh yes, it was a huge event back then, which effected Slavery rulings and practices to this day... it between two factions of Lycanthropes, the werewolves and werecheetahs... it ended with most of the werecheetah race destroyed, and a sudden glut of werewolf slaves into the market thanks to some guy named Kyle... seems he made a deal on the side with the werewolf clan leader, Brendan...”
“...Oh...” Ranma said slowly before he just stared at the woman. He had a seen a werewolf slave here and there... very rare sight, but he had seen it before... but THAT was the reason why? Because some massacre got them enslaved and killed off most of Cheetah’s kind? What the hell was wrong with this world!?
“So,” the blonde receptionist started to speak again. “Do you want to pick her up now or wait for tomorrow morning before nine am? Either way, you’ll have to pay for the overnight.”
“WHAT!?” Genma shouted. “But we got here before nine!!!”
The woman pointed to the clock on the wall. One minute after nine...
“Oh for the love of...” Ranma groaned. “We got here before then!” The pigtailed martial artist exclaimed.
“I know,” the receptionist agreed. “Unfortunately, the computer didn’t register her as your slave until right at nine...” the woman said apologetically, bowing her head sadly. “I’m not allowed to wave the fee for a slave’s stay here, but if you want, we can hook you up with masters’ quarters here free of charge for the night.”
“That’s... a little better...” Genma allowed. It meant they wouldn’t have to pay for an inn room tonight to stay in the city.
Ranma nodded his head. “How much for Cheetah to stay the night?” The pigtailed man asked seriously.
“Only fifteen-hundred Yen,” the woman answered seriously. The woman blinked her eyes as she heard an audible ‘snap’ from the young man.
Slowly, Ranma turned to look back at his father. “You put me through all this hassle over fifteen-hundred yen!?"
“Fifteen-hundred yen is fifteen-hundred yen in our pocket, boy!” Genma shouted indignantly. “That could have gotten us both a small meal!”
Although his eye twitched, Ranma couldn't fault the logic in that. He was a Saotome, after all. And food was food.
But he still slugged his old man into the floor, after the gluttonous fool smashed into a piece of furniture. “Baka oyaji!”
Taking a magazine off from his face, the elder Saotome glared at his son. “FOOLISH BOY!” Genma shouted as he got up from the wreckage of what had been a small table.
“I think you’ll be happy to know that food is provided in the masters’ quarters,” the blonde said helpfully, hoping to stop the fight before it started. “Tonight it’s chicken noodle soup and bread.”
Both Saotomes stopped and turned slowly to the woman. Free food, good free food. “Chicken noodle, huh?” Genma mumbled as he brought his hand to his chin, as he seemed to consider this. While not an extravagant meal, the fact they weren’t paying for the room meant it was free. “How much do we get?”
“A person gets two servings of soup and half a loaf,” the woman answered, blinking her eyes as the pigtailed youth turned back to his father.
“Better not try taking any of mine, oyaji!” Ranma shouted at his old man as he glared daggers at him,
“Ranma!” The old man shouted in indignation. “How could you even suggest such a thing!?”
“Cause ya do!” Ranma shouted angrily.
The old man seemed to consider this for a moment. “...True...” he conceded. However, a serious glint came to his eyes as he took a righteous pose. “But it is only for your sake! By taking your food, I force you to become stronger, faster, hungrier! Truly, a martial artist to be reckoned with!”
Everything was quiet for a moment... and then Genma got whapped across the face by a rolled up newspaper his son was holding. “UNGRATEFUL BOY!” Genma shouted as he rubbed his cheek.
“Just shaddup and let’s eat!” Shaking his head, Ranma sighed in aggravation as he just dropped the newspaper onto the floor along with the numerous magazines that had been on the table his father broke.
Staring with a hard glint to his eyes at his son, the portly martial artist turned his attention to the blonde receptionist. “Where are the Masters’ Quarters?” He was hungry, and he had his priorities straight...
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(Posted Mon, 05 Feb 2007 18:14)
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