Ranma took stock of his situation.
He was surrounded by Demonic Cologne—he thought it called itself Gnarl … which somehow made the creature seem oddly more comforting, even with its appearance. Six to ten of those … Brownie things were looking at him like P-chan getting spoon-fed at the table. He was in a dirt room with apparently only one way out…
Oh yeah, he was feeling a draft.
“I must say, New Master,” Gnarl said with a smirk—still comforting, “you certainly have the Old Master beat in that department. I say many a peasant shall fear you defiling their daughters … and wives.”
“… Defiling?” Ranma murmured, stretching a bit. Good lord, his entire body was killing him. It felt like he went ten rounds with Herb. “You saying my Old Man made more engagement deals?”
If that was the case, he was going back into the casket.
“Oh no, no m’lord!” the elder goblin-like being chirped quite happily. “An Overlord doesn’t take wives, for he instead takes mistresses…”
“… Mistresses?” Ranma parroted questioningly.
Nodding his head, the crystal connected to his staff swung in time with Gnarl nodding his head in affirmation. “But of course, my dark and insidious Overlord; he needs many women for the upkeep of his tower, pampering and naughtiness in the~HEY! GET BACK HERE!” he shouted at the raven-haired male was dropping himself back down into the coffin.
Ranma refused to listen. He was going to close the lid, and go back to the dream world, look for some chocolate-guy in a coat, and ask for his illegal drugs that did something with rabbits and—
“Oooooooo.”
“GAH!” Ranma cried, hearing the zombie like voice, hopping from the casket, and skittering away, staring at it with his hands up to ward off whatever undead thing was making those noises.
“Hmm,” Gnarl muttered, looking at the casket. “Odd; there shouldn’t be anything else in there.”
Like Béla Lugosi, a pale hand rose from the inside of the coffin, gripping the edge, and slowly pulled itself from the tomb. The sound of a pipe organ was easy for Ranma to imagine accompanying the slow rise of whatever horror was inside.
Of course, that could have just been the Browns murmuring as they watched too, with gleeful anticipation.
Ranma’s eyes widened with horror at what he saw. The hand, lithe and feminine, gripped tightly on the rim of the casket as if it were clenching around wads of Yen notes. The frame slowly rose up, revealing that familiar brunette hair in a pageboy hair-style. Chocolate eyes slowly blinked once, twice, thrice as the nude, somewhat buxom woman came back to consciousness. “Nnn... caaawwwwffee~eeeee...” was the lengthy, drawn-out moan of the hellish demon.
Knowing he only had one chance, the pigtailed martial artist turned to the tiny brown creatures. “Quick! Kill me! KILL ME NOW!!”
As the contingent of tiny creatures tackled him to the dirt floor and began pounding on him with fists and clubs—after all, they could not ignore a direct order from their new Overlord, Ranma snarled, “No! Harder! HARDER! You’re not doing crap!! BREAK MY SKULL OPEN LIKE AN EGG BEFORE SHE’S ALERT!” he demanded of the tiny scrappers doing their best to kick his ass.
Gnarl simply shook his aged head, having recalled a similar reaction from a previous Overlord, but that had occurred because of either The-Beast-That-Bore-The-Booty—otherwise known as the Prime Mistress’s mother, or something called ‘a bundle of joy’.
Heaven-damned, mortal relationships were confusing. “Master, I severely doubt that this many Browns will be enough to end your existence.”
“THEY’RE SIMPLY NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH!” Ranma yelled. “And who taught you to swing a club! Not like that, like this!”
Slowly, the un-caffeinated eyes turned, focusing on the loud noises coming from Ranma’s poor attempt at suicide.
And like Medusa, they froze him in place, club halfway on the downswing.
Sadly for Ranma, one Minion wasn’t looking in that direction, was still swinging the club, and had decided for an upswing.
*THWUNK!*
“GAH!” Ranma cried, his completely unprotected proof of male-gender being struck by the over-eager Brown, dropping him to his knees.
*WHACK!*
Thus he was caught by the second strike downward.
“… Ad pans fo tha,” came the near undead’s mumble from the casket.
Looking over to the nude woman who was sitting up in the casket, the aged Minion queried, “So … I take it you are the Master’s Mistress?”
That made the woman blink her eyes once, twice. “Hn? Col’gne?” she grumbled as she stared in the direction of the Minion Master, somehow pulling herself out of the tomb without harming herself in her sleep-induced haze. She brought her hands up; balled into fists as she rubbed her eyes.
Lowering her hands she came to realize that, no, it was no Cologne. “… Are you by any chance a male relation to the Amazons … or Happosai?” After all, it was best to strike first, determine info, and then be the one to sell it to the others.
Shaking his head, the small grayed goblin replied, “No, Mistress. I don’t know a ‘Happosai’ and I can’t remember the last time there were any Amazons around…
“I believe that they were beaten down and shoved into the kitchen, what with this being a man’s world and all.”
“Ah,” Nabiki mumbled, looking about. “Saotome?”
A whimpering whine was her only received response, as the Minions had stopped beating on their Overlord when he had been hit in the Forbidden Zone.
“Did I just get kidnapped instead of my sister?”
The whine returned.
“Gees, Saotome; hit in the crotch by a Hogwarts House Elf, and you’re down. Be glad your rivals don’t know about the secret to defeating you,” she smirked before yawning. “Now, where are my clothes, and where is some coffee?” she asked.
“What is this coffee?” asked Gnarl.
“… You better be fucking with me,” bloodshot eyes glared at the Minion of all Minions.
“Nope,” the aged Minion Master replied. “Never heard of this ‘coffee’ stuff. Although I must admit, with that dialect, it sounds like something you could find in Ruboria,” he mumbled with concern. Perhaps they were from a subsequent outlaying of the desert region that was closer to the seaboard? It would go to explain the texture and coloration of their skin.
However, Gnarl didn’t get much more time to consider this as he was being strangled. “GURK! Muh-Mistress!? Please … stop … choking me!” he burbled out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
Funny. He’d been with at least five Overlords and survived many a disaster. To think this ‘crazy ho’ was what was going to be what did him in.
*BZZT*!
“ACK!!” Nabiki screamed as she dropped the old goblin. Glaring at him, she snarled, “Did you just taz me in the TIT!?”
“… Well, I don’t know what ‘taz’ means,” the shriveled being of concentrated evil replied honestly. “But I did apply a small spark spell to your left breast. I mean, it IS out in the open and all.”
That was when the middle Tendo looked down and realized her state of undress.
“Huh,” she muttered, a few magical volts of energy helping jumpstart her brain. She turned towards her favorite mark, determined to get him to ‘hand over’ something for her to wear.
Except he was nude as well. “Ranma-baby, why are we naked?”
Smirking, she leaned over him a bit, smacking away the hand of a dirty Brown who was slowly reaching for her bare breast. “Did you take advantage of me? Oh, now I’ll never be pure for marriage!”
Gnarl simply raised a grey eyebrow. True, he didn’t buy into that ‘pure before marriage’ crap—that was for those goodie-goodies who never knew the joys of a good brothel—but seriously, he’d met Overlords with more ‘purity’ than the Mistress before him.
“I don’t know,” Ranma squeaked, slowly pushing himself up, struggling not to vomit. “You tell me.”
On instinct, Nabiki responded, holding out her hand. “¥1000, plus another ¥1000 to keep quiet about this.”
“Do you see any pockets on me?” Ranma growled out, a bit of anger leaking out due to the mixture of remembering the fight he had had with Akane last night, how it ended, and the ‘manual reset’ not finishing rebooting yet. There could also have been some leftovers of whatever the fathers gave them still in his system, but given his last twenty-four hours, he was leaning more towards the former.
“Oh, that’s okay Ranma-baby,” the woman cooed with a deceptively honeyed voice. “We can merely add it to your tab when we return … once we find out where we are,” she looked over to the small hunched over being that reminded her of a cross between Mako and something out of the movie ‘Gremlins’. “So tell me, little thing that zapped me for no apparent reason.”
“You were chocking me,” the Advisory Minion hissed. “And the name is Gnarl.”
The Ice Queen of Furinkan High narrowed her eyes at the little thing that dared take such a tone with her. “… Fine … Gnarl, where the hell are we?”
“Ah, we are currently in the basement of the Dark Tower Ruins, former home of the last great Overlord, scourge of the fair lands, the tower nestled snuggle in the mountain range of Treacherous Peak.”
The brunette stared. “So … we’re either in another dimension … or America.”
“If I may, perhaps the former, as I have no idea what the latter is,” Gnarl offered. “You see, long ago, several questing heroes came in, ransacked the place, and killed our previous Overlord.”
“For no apparent reason?” Nabiki asked.
“Oh, plenty of reasons,” Gnarl smirked, showing how sharp his teeth still were. “But at least we managed to kill their damned dog…
“Anyway, they ran off with our former Master’s stuff: jewels, gold, paintings, furniture, disease-free harem, a few Minions and what-not.
“But soon, they started fighting among themselves, as Evil always finds a way, and nothing is more perfect than a fallen hero to take the reign of power.”
“So what happened?” Nabiki asked, foot lashing out to kick a nearby Brown.
No reason, she just felt like it, as it was a safe substitution for the times she had always wanted to hurt Cologne.
“Idiots killed themselves off before we could get the Master’s resurrection chamber ready,” Gnarl snorted. “Really, such low quality; perhaps it was best they died so quickly. Being an Overlord is not for morons.”
“And how does this affect us?” Nabiki asked.
“Simple,” he raised a hand, pointing to the pigtailed male with a frail finger. “The magic of the ceremony has chosen him; that man is destined to be the next great Overlord and lead this world into a new era of darkness and terror!!”
The woman blinked her eyes once, twice … and then laughed heartily. “Well Saotome, you were right! It seems the kami really do hate you!” She could only imagine what kind of karma he had that brought her here with him, but she could already see angles to make the stay somewhat … pleasant. “So … this Overlord had gold aplenty, and there is a chance of getting it back?”
Nodding his head, Gnarl replied, “Why of course, Mistress . But first we would need the master to adorn his steel vestments and reclaim his Tower Heart. Without it, there is no magic here and the ruins remain that—a mere husk of what had once been. We will not be able to leave the place safely as there will be nothing to power the scrying pool.”
“Alright then,” Nabiki smirked before turning around, facing her compatriot/stooge. “Saotome, up and moving! You got rusty armor to put on, gold to get, and luxury to spend on me to help me forget what you did to me last night; I, who is your fiancée’s sister.”
Growling once more, Ranma forced himself up, ignoring the sudden vertigo as his injured junk protested any sudden movement, before stomping up to the middle Tendo. Frankly, he was half tempted to shove the money vampire back into the coffin from which she arose from, seal the lid, and collapse the place. “Do it yourself.”
“I’m afraid the title of ‘Overlord’ is male-only,” Gnarl offered.
“See, Saotome,” she smirked. “If I did it, I would have to go into this cold, unforgiving world, with not a stitch on. Do you know what would happen to me?”
“If I were to guess,” Gnarl said, rubbing his chin, “probably some idiot hero would put a bolt through her chest, assuming something doesn’t eat her alive first.”
“Not seeing a downside for me,” Ranma smirked.
“True,” Gnarl agreed. “After all, I doubt her credibility as a wench and there are so many better virginal maids you could capture in this world once you become the Overlord. I doubt you would need to deal with the headaches she brings you, m’lord.”
Turning towards the shrimpy old gray-skinned thing, the pigtailed martial artist couldn’t help but smile. “Hey. You’re not too bad, old guy!”
“Gnarl,” the goblin repeated. “The name is Gnarl. Please remember it as I will be both your guide and advisor on your path to becoming an Overlord,” a small twinkle of mischief crossed over his eyes. “That is, of course, if you accept … otherwise, it’s quite the way down from the mountains, made all the more dangerous without any clothing or supplies.”
“Excuse me?” Nabiki responded, now the one growling. “I am much too young and beautiful to be traded in like some thirty-something trophy wife!”
“Life’s unfair, deal with it,” Gnarl shrugged. “Besides, why should an Overlord be shortchanged with one … let’s call you a woman,” Gnarl replied with a vicious smirk Ranma thought was a cross between Nabiki’s and the Old Ghoul’s. “A true Overlord is too manly for just one woman or womanish entity!”
“… Do you know my Mom?” Ranma asked.
“Not likely, I never visit human brothels, and am much too old to do what Minions do to relive those hormones,” Gnarl waved off. Ah, to be young again, taking the ole club and bashing skulls…
Good times…
“Ah … all right then,” the pigtailed martial artist mumbled, surprised to be feeling such relief as the old goblin assured him that his mother had nothing to do with this. “So … you say there’s armor?” he queried. “Will it be able to withstand … um … shift-changing?”
That made the old minion raise an eyebrow. “Pardon, your lordship?”
“… Ye~eeeaaaah,” Ranma said slowly, bringing his right hand up to scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment. “As much as I’d like a chance of clothes, I’m kinda stuck with a shape-changing curse when hit with cold water.”
Tilting his head, the old minion considered that. “Well, no worries young master. Even though merely Steel, your Master Helm will be magically imbued with many enhancements. It includes control over your minions, telepathic communication with those in tower and protection from both holy magic and shape-shifting spells.”
“…” Ranma just stared at the old minion with wide hopeful eyes. “You … you mean…”
“Yep. Your curse will be rendered inert as long as you wear your Overlord helmet and armor…
“Sure, it will reactivate whenever you take it off, but you will be able to take your place as a proper Overlord,” the elderly goblin chuckled. “Why, I remember my third Overlord had a similar problem. Would turn into a woman whenever he was aroused. Had to keep his helmet on at all times whenever he visited the harem...”
Of course, that Evil Presence had put off a few of the harem, but really! He bathed, wasn’t that enough? Seriously, some females were just too picky.
“And what about me?” Nabiki asked.
“I think there was a mop bucket somewhere around—GAWK!” the elder Minion cried, as Nabiki began to choke him again.
“Mastah?”
Ranma paused in his dance of ‘Never Gonna Be a Girl Again’ to look at the Minion. “What? Can’t you see I’m celebrating the first bit of good in my life lately?”
“Yes, but—”
“I mean, my Old Man dosed me with something, a girl I semi-liked nearly knocked my teeth loose as she spelled out how much she never wanted to see me again, I may or may not have done things with Nabiki that will haunt me for the rest of my life, I ended up in another world, got nailed in the balls…
“What is so important that I can’t celebrate for one Kami-damned minute!?”
“… Mistress is killing Gnarl,” the Minion choked out.
“Killing?” Ranma blinked, before turning around. “GAH! BAD NABIKI! HEEL!”
The woman turned to look at the pigtailed male with an angered gaze. “Not until you protect me!” she snapped at the man. “Damn it, Saotome! You’re messing with the order! Don’t go messing with the order!!”
It was then that Ranma said something … surprisingly intelligent. “But … this is another realm. There is no ‘order’. No fiancées, no annoying fathers, no nasty shriveled geriatrics—”
“Only ones you—GASP—ago out of your way to find and give a swift … kicking … to,” Gnarl managed to burble out, despite the woman’s thumbs clamped down on his windpipe.
Nodding his head, Ranma stated, “Point is … you need me to get you home. So you could be a little more grateful, all right?”
Nabiki arched an eyebrow, as if asking if Saotome was serious, or even if he knew her.
“Fine,” Ranma snorted. “Then be good or … or get spanked!” he yelled.
“… Try it,” Nabiki muttered. He doesn’t have the balls, she thought.
Ranma smirked, having been reminded just a few minutes ago that, yes, he did have them.
And it was time to share the pain!
“Not that I mind unnecessarily long torture, my Lord,” Gnarl stated, having regained his voice, his breath, and no longer feeling like his Life Force was about to be sacrificed to bring some Brown into the service of the Overlord, “but there are evil deeds that need doing.”
*WHACK!* “OW!”
“Seriously, I can’t enjoy anything,” Ranma muttered.
“I CAN’T FEEL MY ASS, YOU ASSHOLE!” the brunette roared as she lay across the man’s lap, her ass redder than a baboon’s or her father and uncle Saotome’s faces whenever they came home from drinking.
*WHACK*!
“MOTHER-FUCKER!!” the middle Tendo sibling cried out in pain.
Smirking, Ranma replied, “See Nabiki? You can still feel your ass.” He then pushed the woman off his lap, making her sprawl to the ground. True, this was rather out-of-character for him … but who cared!? He doubted he could get them home anyway, so he might as well make a new ‘pecking order’. If it were home at the top, so be it!
Standing up, Ranma stretched. He had been sitting awhile—his own ass was beginning to feel a bit numb too. “So, Gnarl, where do we get my new armor?”
“Right here, m’lord,” the old minion chuckled as he motioned to an old dressed; the wood rotting and becoming a discolored gray while the copper trimming was a mix of black rust and green tarnish. A pair of Browns each grabbed a handle and pulled the doors open on their rusty shrieking hinges, revealing a suit of steel armor that—while a bit dusty—was still rather serviceable, along with a hand-axe that only had the faintest shine of rust along the edge…
Or perhaps that was just a blood stain.
Feeling full of power, confidence, and the joy of taking out someone who caused him more pain than anything else, Ranma strode forward to don the armor.
He stopped five paces short, scrunched up his face, and backpedaled. “The Hell!?” he snarled.
“Is there a problem, Master?” Gnarl asked.
“When was that thing last washed?” Ranma demanded.
“Oh, some time,” Gnarl responded. “Well before the last Overlord perished.”
“Smells like someone died in it!”
“Yes; that would be the last Overlord, as I stated,” Gnarl responded. Seeing Ranma’s wide gaze, he continued. “First we had to locate the pieces of him—damned heroes drug the corpse everywhere. Then without access to the Forge, we had to make what limited repairs we could—mostly just banging the dents out. Afterwards, we placed it here for safe keeping.”
“… You didn’t even hose it off!?”
“It is quite disgraceful to have one’s minions piss on your armor, my Lord.”
“… Wash it!” Ranma snarled as he glared at the armor.
“… But my dark and fiendish Overlord to be,” the elder Brown chirruped. “That just won’t do. After the attack on the tower, nearly all the facilities are in ruins; the only thing serviceable besides the basement being the wreckage that is the throne room and the scrying pool. There’s nowhere to wash it!”
Eyeing the Minion, the pigtailed martial artist queried, “Then why not use the scrying pool?”
Shaking his head, Gnarl insisted, “Can’t. It’s magic. You just don’t go washing your things in magical scrying pools. Do you want to smell worse than cow manure wherever you get teleported to?”
“Revenge!” cried Nabiki, as she rolled over. “FUCKING HELL!”
She had forgotten about her red bottom.
“What about where you guys get your drinking water?” Ranma asked.
“Minions do not need what you would call food or beverage,” Gnarl stated. “Granted, if put before us, we will eat just about anything, and only the Blues can get near a glass of water without drowning.”
“… What about snow? Rain? A river?” Ranma pleaded.
“Maybe if the Tower was functional again, Overlord. But as it is not, this is the best we can do.”
Ranma looked around desperately. “What about fire? Fire makes things better.”
“No Red Minions, my Lord; otherwise we would have used the forge.”
Gnarl frowned. “Although now that I think about it, the Heroes even stole that; damned Halflings unbolted it from the mounting and made off with our Steel Smelter as part of their spoils of victory atop of capturing the Reds…” he shook his head. “A shame too. The last Overlord sought to outfit us SO well; now, your servants are reduced to scavenging whatever they can find.”
“REVENGE!!” Nabiki snarled as she crawled over to the two on her hands and knees; fiery rage blazing in her eyes.
Looking over the female, Gnarl had to nod his head. “Must admit, it’s nice to see a woman learning her proper place before you: on hands and knees like a proper bitch ready to be broken in.”
“REVENGE!!”
Raising a hand, the Saotome Heir waved her off. “Yeah, yeah, revenge later, cleaning now!” He looked over the armor and was becoming rather irritable. “You sure I can’t just clean it in the scrying pool and then hire a pool-boy to clean it up after once everything is up and running?” After all, his mother swore by pool-boys … and she didn’t even own one!
“Even if I knew what a ‘pool boy’ was, the scrying pool is a delicate magical instrument … even if it isn’t working now, or even if it always somehow fails to show the fall that comes for an evil Overlord … it would be disrupted by the blood, urine, and fecal matter of a deceased Overlord being scrubbed off into it.”
Ranma just cringed, wondering if perhaps it would be best to become a nudist at the moment. Surely nothing out there would begrudge him that. And considering he was on another world, obviously he didn’t have to worry about violent tomboys with hurtful words and a vicious left hook.
Of course, if he wore that, he would have the razor’s challenge of being unable to be approached by anything threatening, but be unable to breathe himself…
Hard choices…
“REVENGE!”
“… Seriously, anyone have a rag or something?” he asked. “We can at least wipe it down … and then stuff it in her mouth.”
Then pigtailed martial artist sighed. “Hold on a second, Gnarley.”
“Actually, it’s ‘Gnarl’, m’lord,” the aged Brown corrected the man he intended to make the new Overlord of the Dark Spire. “Gnarl.”
Nodding his head, Ranma told the tiny hunchbacked creature, “Yeah, one moment.” he walked over to the brunette with the paigeboy haircut, standing before her. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at Nabiki. “Hey, Nabs. You mind shuttin’ up already? If you don’t, I may just let these things eat you; you probably taste like chicken.”
‘Chicken! Chicken!” the small hoard of Browns cheered, raising their arms in the air and waving them in excitement.
Eyes narrowed, the woman on her hands and knees glared up at the pigtailed doofus that was supposed to be her sister’s fiancé. “H-how dare you, Saotome? How DARE you!?”
“Let’s just say a lot changed last night,” Ranma said with a dark smile. “After all, you witnessed Akane’s little rant.”
Her eyes narrowed. She had. “And you bounced back quick enough to make out with me,” she offered with her usual smirk. “And perhaps have you forgotten how we woke up here? I’m quite sure that means we’ve done more than just kiss, more than any of your suitors have done with you.”
“Wouldn’t that make your life in more jeopardy than mine?” he asked. “I mean, aside from Akane, who will they likely believe started that?”
“… Touché,” she admitted. No matter how she spun it, it probably would be best not to stay in Nerima for too long. “But ask yourself; aren’t you acting a little out of character?”
He nodded, before turning his head. “Gnarl, this Overlord gig, it gonna affect my mind any?”
The aged minion held out a hand, indicating that, yes, it would a little bit. “It is why it is an unchangeable rule that every Evil Overlord must read the Evil Overlord list every morning and before bed.”
“Evil Overlord list?” Ranma queried.
“Oh, yes, bits and pieces of advice to keep you safe and your empire running smoothly,” Gnarl explained. “Such gems as making sure ventilation ducts being too small to crawl through, not gloating over your enemies’ predicament before killing them, making sure the hero is not entitled to a last kiss, a last cigarette, or any other form of last request…” he shrugged. “You know; Common Sense stuff!”
“… Such a list sounds pretty helpful,” Ranma admitted with a nod of his head. “So, where do I find it?”
The old minion sighed. “I would need to make one up for you. The last Overlord tore his up one day clear out of the blue.
“A week later…” he motioned about at the ruins around them with a wave of his hand. “Yes, the list is pretty much a warning sign. As soon as the boss starts ignoring it, you can bet the cow manure is about to hit the throne.”
Nabiki just blinked. “It was so important, you only had one copy?”
“We had it inscribed on stone tablets,” Gnarl stated. “Guess what happened to them?
“You know, for being spunky heroes who just lost their dog, they sure seemed well trained in stripping the Dark Tower of anything of value. Why they even stole the pipes and what wiring we had! Does that sound like the work of a hero to you!?”
“… They never told us that part, no,” Nabiki stated. She’d even gotten a detention in grade school for asking just that point.
Finally, she turned back to Ranma, attempting to struggle to stand, before giving it up at the moment. “Now, Saotome, quit whining, grab a curtain, a rug, or even some leaves, wipe it out, go get whatever Gizmo—”
“Gnarl.”
“—Gandalf there wants you to, and hurry back here.”
“… And why should I even listen to you?” Ranma asked.
“Because with smelly armor and no money, do you see anyone else here that will sleep with you … assuming that is what we did and just didn’t pass out?” she asked, going with the one bargaining chip she had.
And after all, Saotome was a male. Considering his sex drive might have finally been released, she decided to go slow, ease him into the world of the fact that She Who Had The Pussy, Made The Rules.
Ranma ‘hmm’ed’ a bit as he considered that statement. She did have one compelling point. “Or, I could merely spank you whenever I want. That gave me more happiness than anything else in a long, LONG while,” he replied, fingers twitching as he fought the urge to grab her, drape her across his lap, and start smacking dat ass once more.
“Sounds good to me,” Gnarl had to agree. “Once we get you into service as our Overlord and the Dungeon repaired, you could keep her like a caged bird, pulling her out whenever you needed to spank her silly,” he retorted with an evil chuckle. That would teach the human skank who butchered his name!
Okay, next method, Nabiki thought, forcing herself to stand. “Let me put it this way,” she stated, walking up to him, putting her body against his, placing his hands on her sore bottom—biting her tongue both from the dull ache and the fact he smiled when she winced—and her hands around his neck.
“We wouldn’t have done what we may or may not have done last night, unless there was something there,” she purred in his ear, making sure to lightly grind her stomach against his member. “Even if for you, it was nothing more than angry sex, I can assure you, you will find more satisfaction if we … play together, than if you play alone … or with others.
“What more, with me, you get the satisfaction of not only taking this,” she continued, lowering one arm and lightly grabbing his enlarging member, “ to me to … vent some anger, but the added bonus of nailing the sister of the girl who spurned you.
“Now, how does that sound?” she asked. “And, yes, that includes spankings.”
Ranma just blinked, eyes wide, reproductive organ wider.
Gnarl just chuckled. Perhaps … Evil had been wise to bring that one along. It certainly wouldn’t be the first man to fall to Evil’s crafty grasp, due to a woman.
“Okay,” Ranma managed to finally squeak out. He raised his left hand in a fist, bringing it to his mouth and coughing into it. He then spoke in a most assured voice, “You make a good point, Nabiki … so okay…” he looked towards the aged Brown minion.
“Hey! Gnarl!” he called out. “Find me something rag-like! Remains of a tapestry, a rug, a window curtain, whatever! I want that armor wiped down and ready to go! IT’S TIME TO BECOME THE OVERLORD!”
There was much cheering from the short gremlin-like creatures; the goblins all too excited that they were going to have an Overlord to serve once more, someone who would lead them to killing lots of things!
Gnarl chuckled to himself. “Ah, youth … how it’s corrupted so easily.”
“Gnarl?” Ranma asked. “Why are they making a whipping sound?”
“… Because to celebrate, they wish to be whipped, my Lord,” he covered quickly.
“WHIPPED! WHIPPED!” the brain-lacking Minions stated, covering for Gnarl without knowing it.
“Fine; when we get back,” Ranma sighed. “Now, find something to wipe this down with!”
“Can’t have the newest Overlord look and smell like a petty vagrant,” Nabiki chirped.
Gnarl nodded his head. “Very well. Giblet!” he cold for his second in command; the second eldest of the Browns … at twenty years, he wasn’t all that old but he was certainly smarter than a psychotic man-child. “I believe there should be a moth-eaten banner or two around here that can be used as a make-shift wash-cloth. Hop to it!’
Raising his hand in salute, the Brown nodded his head rapidly before scurrying off quickly, intent to find something make the armor more appealing to the new Overlord. After all, it was the unhelpful Minion who got himself sacrificed in a pit to either regain health and heal wounds or restore magical might for the master.
Watching as Giblet walked off. “Ah yes; once we get you armored-up, we can get started. Not just anyone can be evil you know … it takes a special touch. The right attitude, the show of strength … and just a pinch of mayhem!”
Nabiki just smiled. “And if there is one thing that always comes around Ranma, it is mayhem!”
He didn’t respond to that comment. Nabiki still had things well in-hand.
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(Posted Sun, 28 Jul 2013 23:17)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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