nausicaa2@comcast.net wrote:
<snip>

       Ranma peered at the cd cover.  "Turn Loose the Swans, by
  My Dying Bride?"  He glanced up.  "Never heard of it.  What is it?"
 
       "Only the gloomiest, most depressing metal you're ever laid
  ears on."  Ryoga grinned nastily.  He cracked his knuckles in
  anticipation.  "When I listen to this music, my aura of depression is
  magnified tenfold!  You can imagine what that does to my shishi
  houkou dan!"
 
       Ranma glanced back up the street.  He didn't have to imagine
  anything.
 
       Ryoga snapped the headphones back over his ears and held
  his finger over the cd player's "on" button.  He assumed a fighter's
  stance.
 
       "Now, Ranma," he said, "prepare to meet your doom...."
 
                   FINI
 
 
 
  (For those that don't know... My Dying Bride is one of the world's
  foremost doom metal bands... and would probably rank high on any
  list of the most depressing music in existance... not that I actually
  listen to them, but once the idea got into my head I had to write it...
  whether it was really useful to do so or not.  :P )

www.postalvalhalla.com

	I'll have to look into that.  But in the meantime....  <evil grin>

	Ranma grimaced, steeling himself for what he had to do now.  He hadn't 
had nearly as much time to train as he would have preferred, but if 
Ryoga could do, *he* definitely could.
	He slipped into a modified attack stance,  one hand poised above one 
hip like a gunslinger in an American cowboy movie.
	"Okay, Ryoga," he replied, trying for just the right amount of 
resignation.  "Looks like you might just have a winner this time.  But I 
ain't goin' down without giving you a real fight, you can bet on that!" 
  He glared at Ryoga, trying to look defiant and desperate.
	Ryoga, predictably, brightened considerably.  "You really think so? 
I've trained harder than I ev-- NO!"  The perennially lost boy's 
expression turned thunderous.  "You're trying to trick me, aren't you! 
You don't want me to have enough depression to pull off a full-power 
attack!  Curse you, Ranma, STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!"
	[Well, so much for that,] Ranma thought glumly.  [Still...]  "Okay, 
Bacon Butt, you saw through me."  He watched Ryoga swell slightly with 
pride, unable to completely resist the ego-boost.  "So, let's get it 
on!"  His poised hand jabbed one finger against something on his hip, 
hidden beneath his long Chinese shirt, with unerring accuracy.  There 
was a beep that only he heard, followed by a long, wailing electric 
guitar intro that bouyed his confidence like an updraft lifting sakura 
blossoms.
	Ryoga was already powering up, glowing a bilious green that hurt to 
look at.  "SHISHI HOKODAN REVISED--"
	Ranma clenched as the vocals kicked in, concentrating his chi into a 
brilliant blue pinpoint between his hands that grew brighter and 
brighter, but not larger.  "RANMA!  PREPARE TO DIE!  MOUKU TAKABISHA 
REVISED--"
	"HEAVY METAL APOCALYPSE!"
	"ROCK AND ROLL THUNDERBOLT!"
	The collision of the two chi attacks registered on seismographs as far 
away as the Phillipines.

	When Ryoga woke up, it was to a view of a wounded sky, the sound of 
distant sirens, and something poking his cheek.
	There was a voice, too:  "C'mon, Ham Head, you can't be hurt that bad 
-- wake up!"
	He hurt all over, but not enough to keep him from answering that hated 
voice.  "ranma... this is... all your fault...."  He was ashamed of how 
weak his voice sounded.
	A face loomed into his field of view, which actually helped -- Ranma 
looked as bad as he felt.  "how...?"
	The pigtailed jerk actually managed a smug smirk, despite appearing to 
be on the verge of passing out.  "Yer not the only one that likes music, 
Ryoga."
	"...what?"
	"You found some music that made you depressed.  Me, I found some that 
boosts my confidence."  Ranma's eyes went distant.  "'Here I am, I'm the 
master of your destiny...'" he sang quietly in English.
	"But--" Ryoga took a moment to cough painfully.  "But my music stopped 
-- I lost my concentration.  You didn't.  Damn you," he added 
half-heartedly.
	Ranma shrugged.  "You were using a CD player.  I knew I just had to 
rattle it bad enough to overload the anti-skip thingy, and I'd have the 
upper hand."  He sprawled out beside Ryoga in the smoldering crater they 
shared, groaning slightly at the protest of abused muscles.  One hand 
unclipped something from his belt and waved it in Ryoga's direction. 
"Me, I didn't have to worry about skip."
	Ryoga squinted at the small black object, then closed his eyes in pain. 
  "An IPod."
	"Yep."  He could still *hear* the smirk in Ranma's voice.
	"And if you're lucky, you'll have Nabiki paid back for it in another 
five years or so."
	*That* knocked some of the stuffing out of him.  "Hey!  I only got 
*two* years ta go, thank you very much!"
	The sirens were getting closer now.  "So," Ranma said eventually, 
"Whadda we gonna tell the cops *this* time?"
	Ryoga finally felt something to smile about, as something wet splashed 
on the tip of his nose.  "What do you mean, 'we'?" he asked cheerfully 
as the first roll of thunder rumbled overhead.  "All they're going to 
find here is a bigmouth redheaded girl and a cute little piglet..."
	The wounded sky opened up, Ryoga felt himself shrink into his clothes. 
  The last thing he heard before surrendering to blessed sleep was 
Ranma-chan protesting angrily: "Dang it, Ryoga, this is all *your fault!*"





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