The Plague was still out there. It could still do nasty things to an unprotected human. That was one reason she had to work through minions. She didn't dare leave the enclosure even if she'd shown resistance to the disease. It was one reason she worked with McKenzie. Ostensibly she was THEIR mole and minion. When the time was ripe though, she'd betray McKenzie and that organization to the relevant authorities.
She'd always had to take precautions rather than take the chance of McKenzie's stupid plague claiming her. As if she'd stay loyal to a bunch of idiots who'd played with forces they barely understood and fumbled it that badly.
She could leave the cage, but always returned to it, and she had to carry her respirator with her. Now she was considering the problems her brother could cause and work at his destruction.
It was really a pity his Jusenkyo curse had been cured. It would have been an ironic end to his saga if he'd ended up a pokegirl himself.
Ranko stopped herself as she considered that. Maybe the curse could be reinstated, locked, and the resulting girl exposed to the plague? Requiring the saving of HER life by becoming a pokegirl. Ranko smiled evilly at the thought of all that could be done to yet another mere Fighting Type pokegirl.
Ranko reached for her vidphone. She'd have to check into that angle while she planned for other scenarios. She'd prefer to just show how inappropriate a choice Ranma would be without doing anything that might cause repercussions on her various other plans.
Jim sat back and let his pokegirls handle the problem.
Mini-missiles exploded against a force-screen erected by a Shieldmaiden.
Webbed grotesqueries erupted from the waves, charging at his lounge chair.
Number Thirteen was abruptly in their way, not a line in her black business suit out of place as she calmly produced two swords out of nowhere.
Jim watched, apparently without concern, as the monsters were dispatched. Thirteen moved quickly and efficiently, and yet gracefully. When in combat the blonde was in her element and had a poise and center that she did not have in other forms of social interaction.
Jim looked completely calm and assured. Confident in his employees being able to handle this little event. He was also studying the grotesqueries. Neither male nor female as far as he could tell. Someone had made these amphibious killing machines, but that someone had cut out everything not useful for their mission.
Jim felt the air tighten about him, and what felt like a rolling wave of malice. Then the attack was over.
"Hmph, did we get anything this time?" asked Jim apparently of the air.
"Not much, only brief bits, the psychics were shielded and the mutates were reduced to mindlessness," responded the air seemingly by itself.
Jim nodded. He had Psychic-types on staff, of course. Also Magic and a few others. Most of whom were in a command center watching for just such an eventuality. "Those little missiles were new. How many were there?"
"Over two thousand were launched, sir," said the Psychic type from somewhere out-of-sight. "Thirty impacted the force-screen erected around you. The remainder were taken by a blanket chaos-curse that caused various malfunctions."
"What about those mutates?" asked Jim, sipping on his drink when waiting for the reply.
"They started out as human and male, there were only brief flashes of memory within them that had not been expunged by their captors. Enough to indicate that they had not gone willingly, and were probably connected on a personal level to some of McKenzie's group."
"Some people just flat out refuse to change their opinion even when facts and history indicate they should," philosophized Jim as he considered that. "Let local law enforcement know what we've encountered. Any of them tolerable?"
"Yes sir," said the Psychic. "Thank you."
Jim nodded. He always kept things like that in mind. Psychics generally didn't like contacting certain minds. Those minds that seemed greasy or oily, those whose minds were dark tangles of thorns, or similar feels/imageries. On the other hand, those who tended to be kind or good-hearted or have some aspect of inherent nobility within them - Psychics found them attractive no matter what their physical shape was like.
"Done," said the distant Psychic. "Chief Inspector Steve McGarrett. He'll be there soon to collect statements."
"Good, as he's on duty, I think iced tea for when he and his men and girls arrive," said Jim, knowing that others would pick up on the appropriate part of the statement.
"We're continuing to follow up on recovered images from the mutates, though apparently there was a psychic who worked them over. Nearly everything was erased except rage."
Jim caught the disgust in the voice and raised an eyebrow. "Very well. Work the angles but keep in mind that they may have implanted those memories as part of a trap."
"Don't tell your grandmother how to suck eggs. Sir," responded the voice.
Jim genuinely laughed at that. "I'll make a note of it. Oh, and notify other likely targets of the mutates. This may have been just a diversion."
"With two thousand missiles and these mutates?" asked the Psychic. "They also tried to lock onto you and Teleport you away. I'm notifying colleagues now, but I have my doubts about this being just a diversion."
"Ranma, for the fourth time, you do NOT have to marry Shampoo," said Cologne, following that statement with a staff whack atop his head.
"Eh? No?" asked Ranma, stopping his tirade as that little hurdle vanished.
"No," repeated Cologne, sitting back down and frowning at him.
"Then, what did you mean about choosing..." said Ranma as the thought came up that maybe she DID just mean as a team member.
"Now I should probably be trying to convince you to select Shampoo as your Alpha, but quite frankly as she is - that would not be a good choice for your team," said Cologne.
"...no?" asked Ranma, now completely flabbergasted and he couldn't even SPELL flabbergasted. Which would be pretty tricky in katakana anyway. Ranma shook his head at the odd divergence in thought and tried to focus on what was going on NOW. "So what ARE you saying?"
"Shampoo is a Cheetah," said Cologne after a moment. "She's a speed-oriented and combat-capable individual, a very good fighter. She's capable of sprinting faster than just about any other pokegirl on the planet. However she also has all of the problems common to Cheetah pokegirls. She tires quickly, being a sprinter more than a long-distance runner - though believe you me I've been addressing that to build up her stamina. She's also quick to react to things before she's had a chance to think them through, very self-centered, and has problems keeping her attention on a single thing."
Ranma blinked, thinking that it sounded like Shampoo might have fur now but sounded mostly the same.
"Your Alpha is your primary pokegirl who has to assist you with the others, and will be the one to offer advice on strategies and tactics," said Cologne. "It would help if she were technically proficient as well, something my great granddaughter is very much NOT."
"I see..." said Ranma. "So you want me to select Shampoo for my team, but not as the team leader."
"Precisely," said Cologne, nodding.
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(Posted Wed, 23 Dec 2009 17:01)
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