Nabiki--Dark Justice
by Soul Survivor

-----
Disclaimer: The rights to Ranma 1/2 belong to Rumiko
Takahashi and any others that she has liscenced them
to.
Black Hood is the property of Dark Horse Comics
-----


Chapter One

Nabiki was scared shitless.  Of all the things to
happen around her, this had to be the absolute worst.

All she'd wanted was a quiet night away from the
madness of Nerima, and when Toshi'd invited her to a
concert in Tokyo, she'd jumped at the chance.  Now
Toshi was dead and if the Tong creeps they'd stumbled
on saw her face, there'd be no place she could hide.

Of all the stupid shit, Toshi just HAD to play hero
when some punk got pushy on the dance floor.  Sure,
how was he to know the little snotball had friends? 
Still...  The bastard and his butt-bodies jumped them
on their way to the train station, and for once Toshi
did the smart thing, he'd grabbed her and they'd
hauled ass like there was no tomorrow.  They'd almost
made it, too, then Lady Luck just had to piss on their
parade.

Their midnight run had left them lost in the warehouse
district, and Toshi had made the mistake of
approaching the first group they'd come across in
hopes of borrowing a phone to call the cops.  It
wasn't his fault really; he was simply naive.  He
couldn't have known he was walking in on a major drug
deal.  Luckily for her, she'd been a bit suspicious,
and had ducked behind a dumpster before they had seen
her.  Toshi, however...

The muffled "phut" of a silenced pistol and the blood
spraying from the exit wound in Toshi's head would
haunt her for the rest of her life.  Now here she was,
trapped like a rat...  The only way out was past a
group of gun toting thugs, and if they saw her, she
would never be safe again.

"Now would be a great time, Ranma...  Hell, I'd settle
for Kuno right about now."  Of course, it wasn't
likely to happen, not at all...  Unlike Nerima, Tokyo
didn't have an over-abundance of uber-martial artists
to save the day when things got a little hairy. 
Besides, these goons had guns, and as good as the
Nerima crew were, no one could outrun a bull...

He came out of the shadows, an avenging angel, twin
pistols blazing and an executioner's hood covering his
features.  For a moment he seemed invincible, moving
with a speed and skill to rival any Nerimian, his
blows sending men flying, the crunch of breaking bones
clear even to where she hid.  But as strong and fast
as he was, he didn't have eyes in the back of his
head.  It all ended with a single shot, as her savior
was flung forward by the impact of a high caliber
round.  He tried to get up, but the remaining thugs
fired round after round into him, driving him into the
ground, till he moved no more.

Shuddering, she watched as they pulled the hood off of
his head, revealing the pain twisted face of a
nameless gaijin.  One of them tossed the hood towards
the dumpster and she stifled a shriek when it landed
on her...  Unfortunately, not well enough. 
Immediately two of the men turned towards her with
pistols drawn, then cautiously approached.

There was no time for rational thought.  In a panic,
she grabbed the hood, pulling it on to hide her face
in the desperate hope of dashing past them to freedom.
 Then, everything changed...

As the hood settled into place, she felt an icy anger
fill her, washing away her previous terror, as if it
had never existed at all.  Instead of her planned
escape, she found herself vaulting over the dumpster,
her heel crushing the nearest thug's jaw like crystal
with a devastating flying kick.  Landing, she drove
her knee into his partner's gut, folding him almost
double as his feet left the floor.  Without conscious
thought, his gun was in her hand and firing.

Hitting the floor and rolling, she was in their midst
before they could react, her childhood training in her
family's art suddenly clear in her mind.  Fists and
feet lashing out with deadly precision, complemented
at need by the pistol in her hand, she dropped them
one by one.  Taking a lesson from her predecessor, she
made a point of keeping her back covered, for while
there was no fear of death within her, there was a
brutal survival instinct, backed by a predatorial
drive to kill...  Kill?

Stopping cold, she watched as the last of the thugs
collapsed to the floor.  Surveying the carnage about
her, she felt the pistol slip from nerveless fingers
and bile rise in her throat.  Out of over a dozen men,
one was breathing, and the unnatural angle of his neck
told her that it wouldn't be for long.  They were
murdering scum, but that was no excuse...

Tearing the hood from her head, she stared at it in
utter revulsion.  Then, hauling back to throw it as
far from her as possible, she froze, her father's
voice echoing in her mind.  "It is a martial artist's
duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

While not having practiced the art for years, she was
still her father's daughter.  What she held in her
hand was power, a deadly power, yes, but then again,
no deadlier than the school to which Ranma and her
sister were heirs.  Yes, she had killed, but then,
would...  No, COULD Ranma or Akane have avoided doing
so under the circumstances?  Maybe...  Then again,
maybe not.

Once again, she surveyed her surroundings, this time
taking into account the briefcases busted open during
the fight.  One was full of yen notes, several million
from the look of it, the other, clear wrapped bricks
of white powder, cocaine or heroin, she couldn't tell
which.  Then she forced herself to look at Toshi's
body, his final look of shock frozen on his face.

While little more than friends, his death was a blow
to her, one that would take her time to recover from. 
If nothing else, his murder was avenged, in that she
could take a cold comfort at least.  That, and the
poison those bastards were peddling would never see
the streets, an anonymous phone call would see to
that.  

Stuffing the hood into her purse, she was about to go
when a thought struck her.  The drugs were one thing,
but the money, on the other hand, would do no one any
good sitting in an evidence room...

Grabbing the case, she was relieved to find that it
would close again, then, pausing only long enough to
wipe clean the pistol she had used, she left the alley
in search of a phone.

tbc
-------------

I will be continuing this.


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