"You want to research my curse?" Ranma asked.
"Yes, exactly. You'll be well reimbursed for your time," Quisling assured the boy.
"Huh?"
"You'll get paid," said Quisling.
"Oh," said Ranma, understanding. "I go to High School, y'know, and here in Japan they take a funny view of that kinda thing. Gotta get permission from the School and all."
"It shouldn't be a problem," said Quisling. It wouldn't be, of course. Records were easy to manufacture and manipulate.
"Well, I..." Ranma began, not sure about this situation at all.
Ba-kooom!
Giant weapon-toting insects blowing up a wall and swarming in added a complication to the negotiations.
Quisling winced. Those were between him and the exit that led to the main building. Worse, their epaulets marked them as being mercenaries working for the competition - one of the bigger and less friendly interdimensional slaving companies. It looked like his personal net worth was about to take a dive.
"What the hell?" Ranma was used to a lot of strangeness, but this was over the top even for him.
"Kill them," instructed one of the bugs to a lesser rank. "We can use them as food later."
Death threat. Serious death threat. Monsters. Ranma discarded his usual "not take the fight seriously" option and went down the list. Those sticks crackled, so some kind of taser weapon. Knives, green goo on them = poison. Seven bugs. Options analyzed. Moving into action.
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(Posted Tue, 11 Feb 2003 21:13)
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