A bleary-eyed Sergeant George Amado, sitting at a paper-strewn desk where it wasn’t covered by stacks of folders, looked up as Stacy and her redheaded guest were ushered up to him, then nodded his thanks to the policeman that had escorted them. As their escort hurried back to his post, George grabbed a folder from the nearest stack and stood up. “Let’s get some coffee and then take this somewhere a bit more private,” he said.
A few minutes later, the three were seated next to a table in an interview room, one without a window with one-way glass. “Private?” Stacy asked, nodding toward the speaker mounted on the wall as she sipped from her cup. She grimaced and quickly set it aside.
“Yeah, the microphones for this room have been busted forever, and we never seem to be able to find enough give in the budget to repair them,” George assured her with a chuckle.
Stacey joined in the laugh, and noticing Ranma’s confused look, added, “I’ll explain later.” Turning to her friend, she continued, “So, what was so important that you asked us to come down right away? And this early in the day? You had a rather late night, yesterday.”
“That in a moment,” the sergeant said. “First, before I left last night I sent off some emails to Japan, asking for whatever they have on Genma and both Ranma Saotomes, and when I came in this morning I found responses already waiting for me.”
“Is that rapid a turnaround normal?” Stacy asked in surprise.
“Not hardly, but the Japanese were very embarrassed when the Stanson sisters were murdered at our embassy there, and anything having to do with that case is getting full and rapid assistance. Some of their superheroes even volunteered to help, but we had to tell them that we didn’t have anyone to aim them at just yet.
“Anyway,” George continued, holding up a thick folder, “Genma had quite a record, a list of petty scams and thievery going back decades — along with the occasional case of stepping in to help out someone in danger, though he’d usually ask for whatever they’d give him as a reward afterward. The Japanese cops have him down as mostly harmless and occasionally helpful.”
“Yeah, that was Dad,” agreed a slightly teary-eyed Ranma in a shaky voice.
George glanced at the redhead. “There’s some mention of a Ranma in there, too — your brother, you said. They say he’s a good kid, if a bit full of himself. Apparently he’s proof positive that environment isn’t everything. There’s no mention of you, though.”
“There wouldn’t be,” Stacy quickly said, before Ranma had a chance to respond. “She’s the result of an encounter Genma and Ranma had with some ancient magic.”
“Ah, that would explain a lot,” George said slowly. “So our Ranma here has no legal identity?”
“Not that I know of,” Stacy replied. “Ranma?”
“Ah, no, none,” Ranma agreed after a moment’s pause.
“Hmmm, that’s going to make things ... interesting ... for Social Services and Immigration,” the sergeant mused. “You were planning on contacting them before they contacted you, right?”
“Absolutely, first thing after some shopping and lunch,” Stacy assured him. “And this isn’t actually unprecedented — there have been clones and magical copies of superheroes and those closest to them over the years, artificial intelligences, animals made sentient through both magic and science ... oh, all sorts of things, there’s plenty of legal precedent for creating a new identity for a new person. Typically, in the case of copies the new person is a citizen of the same country as the original. But seeing how Ranma hasn’t been registered yet, if she agrees to stay with me I’m hoping to get her U.S. citizenship — the fact that she was orphaned because her father saved the life of a U.S. citizen on U.S. soil, especially with this case, ought to help. Of course, we'll need one of the magic types to verify the magic, and we don't really have anyone around here that I know of. Witchcraft was here awhile back with the rest of the Champions, why don't you send them a request?
At George's raised eyebrows, she added with a shrug, “I've been doing some research since Ranma told me what happened. I know it seems a bit unusual, but we just haven’t had to worry much about this sort of thing in Hudson City, before.”
“No, instead we get the psycho killers and madmen. I think I’d trade a little more superpowered craziness for a little less blood,” George said, voice turning bitter for a moment. Taking a deep breath and straightening in his seat, he continued, “And that brings us to why I’m here this early, and asked you to come in. Deborah Manning, the young woman Genma died saving, was kidnapped out of her home this morning.”
Ranma jerked upright, mouth opening, only to freeze at a brief touch of Stacy’s hand. Glancing at the blonde, she settled back when Stacy shook her head. Stacy said quietly, “I would have thought you’d have had her guarded.”
“You’re right,” George agreed, “and we did, two patrolmen, both dead at the scene. Also at the scene was this.”
He handed Stacy a heavily creased sheet of paper. She glanced at it and froze, staring. After a long moment she relucntantly passed it to Ranma. The redhead found herself looking at a picture of her father, spots of what were probably blood running in a line across his chest, while behind him on the grass were Ranma’s male form with a young woman sitting in his lap, clutching at him. Ranma’s face had been circled.
“Not good,” Stacy murmured.
Sergeant Amado snorted. “Very not good,” he agreed, looking at Ranma as the redhead crumpled the picture in her fist, two tears rolling down her face. “It seems these thugs are determined to hammer down anyone that dares get in their way, and they’re hunting your brother. They may come after you, if they can’t find him. Or even if they can. I can assign a couple of patrolmen —”
“Forget it,” Ranma said instantly. “I don’t need any guards. Though they may, if ... if my brother catches up with them.”
“No corpses!” the sergeant ordered sternly, leaning forward. “We have too many murdering vigilantes in this city already. If your brother starts killing people, I will hunt him down to the best of my ability.”
Ranma stiffened, then relaxed as Stacy again laid a hand on her arm. “We’ll pass that on if we see him,” the blonde said. “But I agree with Ranma — no guards. It would play havoc with my work, and I’ve been practicing martial arts since I was raped. We’ll be fine.”
George looked doubtful, but finally shrugged. “I know how stubborn you can be, so no personally assigned guards. But I’ll be putting out the word to everyone in your home and work areas to keep an eye out, and if you ever change your mind you know who to call.”
Stacy and Ranma left soon after, the shapely blonde spending a few minutes in gossip while keeping an eye on the stiff younger redhead before they made their goodbyes and the two were escorted back to the public area of the station house. Stacy quickly got Ranma out to her car, and a few minutes later they were back in traffic headed toward her apartment.
Stacy glanced toward her stiff, silent guest. First, take care of any possible bugs. She hit a button on her dash and sighed softly. {Let it out, Ranma,} she said gently in his native Japanese.
Ranma shuddered, closed her eyes, and started a rant in her native Japanese that quickly had Stacy in awe. She didn’t even recognize all the words, but the ones she did ... You can definitely tell Ranma’s spent some time in rough company, she thought. Finally the redheaded teenager wound down. Stacy waited for a few minutes, but when Ranma stayed silent, she hesitantly said, {I don’t want to seem like I’m pressuring you, but ... does this mean you’re taking me up on my offer? Even if it means spending most of your days as a girl?}
Ranma took a deep breath, then nodded. {Yes, at least until this is over. We saved her. Pop died saving her! And they just ... just ... made it all worthless!}
{No, they haven’t, not yet,} Stacy instantly disagreed. {If all they were going to do is kill her, they’d have left her body with those of the cops. No, she’s still alive. Whether she’ll remain that way ... I don’t know. That’s mostly out of our hands. But she’s going to have both of us looking for her.}
{Damn straight!} Ranma growled. {So, what first?}
{First, we’re going to get some lunch. Then, we’re going shopping to get you some clothes that fit. And then, we’re going to check in with Social Services and Immigration.}
{What?! But Deborah —}
{Will have to look after herself for awhile. There’s nothing we can do right now, and there are things we need to do if we aren’t going to have the government breathing down our necks,} Stacy said firmly. {Besides ... Ranma, if you stay in my business long, you’re going to find that you need to be able to set cases aside — not forget about them, exactly, but ... put them out of your head for a bit, enjoy life. Otherwise, the ugliness will overwhelm you and you won’t last long.}
After a long moment, Ranma slowly nodded. {I think I can see that. But ... I don’t know if I can, I keep seeing her when she glomped onto me in the park, how relieved she was —}
{And we’ll do our best to see that again. But in the meantime, let’s eat, and you seemed to like the idea of ice cream ...} A reluctant smile broke across Ranma’s face, and Stacy grinned. {Then some time being bored by bureaucrats, and then ...} She hesitated for a moment, then continued, {Then there’s someone I want you to meet. She might help you forget about the ugliness for awhile — I know she does me.}
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(Posted Thu, 01 Jul 2010 15:15)
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