Note: Slightly revised version of the rewrite. Basically just changed the ending. Will post a message at the beginning of Chapter Two to let any who missed the rewrite know, to help prevent confusion.
See authors notes at the bottom. Timelines are the same as mentioned in the original version of this story, that being between the episodes 'Turn of the Rogue' and 'Spykecam' for Evolution, and after Ranma learns the Moko Takabisha, but before Nodoka's first appearance.
Evolution ½
Chapter One- Rewrite.
"Mmm...this is nice." Ranma commented to himself as he laid back, propping his hands behind his head. Lifting one leg and crossing it over the other, he closed his eyes with a contented smile, the picture of relaxation.
The fact that he was flying through the air brought said picture into the slightly more surreal end of the spectrum.
Tempted to burst into a rendition of "I Believe I Can Fly", Ranma cracked an eye open and noticed his rapid ascension was now going in the reverse. Sighing in disappointment, he cracked his neck and got out of his relaxed position, preparing himself for landing. "Damn," he muttered to himself. "I was expectin' that flight to last longer. Either the tomboy's gettin' weaker, or this impact resistance training is really beginning to show some results."
It came to him shortly after Ryoga had learned the Breaking Point technique. While Ranma had speed, he greatly lacked in endurance and damage resistance, something he was going to need if Ryoga was indication. Normally, he would have set off on a training trip to do this, but quickly came to a realization that such a thing would fall in the realm of 'stupid idea.' With all the nutcases that chased and tried to kill him on a daily basis, he doubted he'd be able to get any real training in before they tracked him down and the inevitable happened.
So he came up with another plan. One of the prime tenets of the Saotome branch of Anything Goes was that every mundane activity could be turned into a form on training. The mealtime battles with his father were exercises in speed, control, and reaction. Walking the fence every day, while fun, also helped him keep up his balance. And getting hit by Akane for actual and/or perceived insults made for excellent endurance and impact resistance training.
He could easily dodge her mallet. The tomboy had strength, but no real speed to speak of. In the time it took her to swing that mallet, or whatever blunt object she happened to have on hand, Ranma could have easily countered with a dozen attacks, knocking her out before she even knew what hit her. And sometimes, he really wanted to.
Spreading his arms and leaning forward in a swan dive, Ranma grinned at the exhilarating feel of the air whipping past him. Twisting himself into a mid-air flip, followed by several other impressive displays of mid-air acrobatics, Ranma focused his ki into his legs, landing on his feet with his knees bent, holding the position for a moment before standing back up, arms spread. In his head, he could hear the cheers of the non-existent spectators.
"And the crowd goes wild! Perfect tens across the board!" He said with a grin. "Saotome is guaranteed to take the gold!"
"The Russian judge has altered his ruling," a dry voice to the side commented, "He feels that half-twist felt a little forced and awkward."
Ranma glanced over "Damn Russian judge. I swear he's out to get me." he flashed his standard smirk. "How's it goin', Jiro?"
The speaker was almost the definition of average. Average height, average build, short brown hair and brown eyes. The only distinguishing feature on the man was a small scar just above his left eye and the ever-present smirk on his face. In all the time Ranma had known Jiro Shinkasa, he didn't think he'd ever seen him without that smirk.
"About the same as ever." Jiro replied, "You're late."
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Took longer than usual to get Akane riled up." Ranma mock-sighed. "I must be losing my touch."
Jiro snorted. "You? Fail to insult someone? If you believe that, I'd like you to come with me and check out the latest ice sculptures in hell."
Ranma rolled his eyes and began walking, Jiro falling into step beside him. "Ryo-kun has started the class in warm-up exercises." The older man continued speaking. "He's rather upset at your tardiness, by the way, so expect a bit of a verbal dressing-down later and a possible dock in pay."
Ranma snorted. "Ryo needs to get that stick outta his ass. I'm what, not even five minutes late?"
Jiro nodded. "Three minutes and twenty-three seconds late. Which," he continued as the pair turned onto a side street, "as you know, is three minutes and twenty-two seconds later than Ryo-kun likes."
Ranma sighed. "Well, nothin' I can do about it." he said as they arrived a moderately-sized building. The Shinkasa Dojo was about twice the size of the Tendo's own, but had no where near the reputation. Not that the owners really cared. Famous dojos were more likely to be targeted by dojo destroyers and similar people with ill-intent. All the Shinkasa's wanted out of life was to teach. Fame meant little to them.
Stepping inside, Ranma saw Ryo Shinkasa leading about twenty-five kids, all between the ages of nine and fourteen, in various warm-up and stretching exercises. Ryo was Jiro's height, with a much larger build. Other than that, and Ryo's lack of a scar, the two were mirror images of each other. Identical twins, Ryo and Jiro Shinkasa, both twenty-three, were the oldest children of the owner of the dojo. The former was the current head instructor, while the latter, by his own admittance not much of a martial artist, handled the finances and operation of the dojo.
Watching the kids as they did their warm-ups, Ranma heard Jiro clear his throat behind him, attracting the attention of his brother. Upon seeing that they had arrived, Ryo instructed the kids to keep with what they were doing and walked over to the pair.
"You're late." Ryo said, a neutral expression on his face.
Ranma rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that Ryo. Had a bit of a harder tim-" Ryo cut him off.
"I don't care for excuses. I'll let it slide once, Saotome-san, but next time..." he trailed off, letting Ranma know there had better not be a next time. "You have a class to teach. The kids have all warmed-up and should be ready for you. Go get changed."
Ranma nodded and went into the back area where the faculty changing room was located. Quickly donning his gi, he returned to the class and took his place at the front.
Once the class was well-underway, Ranma stood back and observed the students as they practiced the new form he had shown them earlier, only stopping to correct them on an individual basis, but otherwise letting his mind wander a bit.
It had started around the same time Ranma had decided to start turning Akane's violent anger against him into training. One of the first few hits had launched him into the park he had landed earlier, much to the surprise of one Akira Shinkasa. The man had rushed to his side, frightened for the boy's safety, only to find Ranma essentially uninjured. Naturally, Ranma arrogantly proclaimed it would take more than a fall like that to hurt him, declaring that he was the best, etc etc. Akira had listened with bemusement, then offered Ranma a challenge. Ranma immediately accepted, asking Akira where and when. Akira merely smirked.
"I never said we were going to fight, boy." Akira had said. "I can tell your skill surpasses my own, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. Whoever taught you taught you well."
"Than what's the challenge?" Ranma had asked, confused. What kind of challenge would it be if they weren't going to fight?
If it was at all possible, Akira's smirk had merely grown wider. "You may be able to fight well, Ranma-san," he had said, "But how well can you teach?"
The challenge was simple. Every Saturday, after school let out, Ranma would teach the beginners class at the Shinkasa dojo. If, within two months time, his students were all able to move up a rank, he would be declared the 'victor', and Akira would fulfill, within reason, and request Ranma had. If he lost, Ranma would have to do the same for Akira.
And so it began. Ranma had discussed the challenge with his father, and to his surprise, Genma threw his backing behind it, even offering to do what he could to keep anyone from disrupting him during his classes. When Ranma had asked why, his father merely replied that if Ranma was going to take over to dojo one day, he'd have to know how to teach. And it was better he learn now rather than later.
Not that Ranma ever planned to take over the dojo, but that wasn't something the old man needed to know.
After engineering the cunning "have-Akane-hit-him-in-the-right-direction-at-the-right -time" plan, Ranma was surprised how easy it was. No one bothered him in the entire time he spent at the Shinkasa dojo. When he began teaching the class, Ranma came across another revelation.
He enjoyed teaching.
It had been a little rocky at first, since the only experience he had to draw upon was how his father had taught him, but after observing a few of Akira and Ryo's classes, as well as those taught by a few other dojos in the area, Ranma soon picked up on the proper way to teach. Since the kids weren't likely to become as dedicated as Ranma himself was to the Art, nor were they likely to get into as many fights as he did, there was no need for the harsh-but-effective methods his father had used to teach him. And he enjoyed teaching the kids. There was an unmistakable thrill in seeing the students execute a move flawlessly, and knowing he'd been the one who taught them how to do it. He soon forgot there was even a challenge in place, his mind focused on teaching the kids to properly defend themselves.
After two months had passed, Akira had come to Ranma and told him the challenge was over, and all of his students had passed. Which meant Ranma was the winner. As his prize, Ranma asked Akira to allow him to continue teaching, with pay, for as long as he was able to. Akira had laughed, not at all surprised by this, and happily agreed.
In those two months and the several more that had followed, Ranma had gotten to know the Shinkasa's. Ryo, while rather strict and humourless, was an excellent teacher in his own way. Like his father, he was no where near as skilled as Ranma himself, but Ranma had to admit they were both phenomenal instructors, outclassing in that regard as he outclassed them in terms of skill.
Jiro, while he practiced the Art, had little dedication to it, instead preferring to manage the dojo's finances and promotional aspects, which he excelled at. At first, Ranma had thought of Jiro as another Nabiki, but later changed his mind on that. For one thing, Jiro had other interests besides money, and for another, Jiro was much better at it than Nabiki. The man had an information network that exceeded Ranma's comprehension, and always seemed to know what was going on. What Jiro did with the information, Ranma had no idea.
Glancing at the time, Ranma called the class to stop, showing them the form they would be learning in the next class. Seeing the excited looks on their faces, Ranma smiled inwardly and dismissed them all. Heading into the back area, Ranma changed from the gi into his standard red silk Chinese shirt and black drawstring pants.
On his way out, he saw Jiro leaning against the wall, ever-present smirk on his face. "Good class today, Ranma-san."
Ranma nodded. "Thanks. They're a great group of kids." He replied as he walked past Jiro.
"I found her."
Ranma's eyes widened and he spun around, a look of shock on his face. "What? So soon?"
Jiro's smirk grew wider, "Yep. Took quite a bit of effort, and more capital that I thought it would, but my contacts managed to track her down. We weren't able to get an address or phone number or anything, but we were able to locate her general area." He pulled a folded slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Ranma.
Ranma took it with a shaky hand, clutching onto it tightly, as if afraid it would disappear unless he kept a strong grip on it. "Jiro..." Ranma gulped. "You have no idea how much this means ta me. I owe you, man, big time."
Jiro pushed himself off the wall and walked past Ranma, "And I intend to collect on that, Ranma-san. You can count on it."
Ranma barely heard him as he stared at the folded paper, trying to work up the courage to open it and see. Taking a deep breath, he opened it up.
In neat, tightly written English were the words. "Bayville, New York, USA."
Silence permeated the Tendo home. It was late, and the family and their guests had gone to bed.
In the guest room, Ranma cracked an eye open. Extending his sense, he determined that everyone was asleep. Silently as he could, he got up from his futon and crept over to his pants, pulling out the sheet of paper Jiro had given him earlier that day.
Two weeks ago, Ranma had one of his rare flashes of insight. Jiro had a staggeringly large information network. "Large enough to locate anyone or anything." He had once bragged. When he'd asked why, Jiro had only shrugged and replied "For the hell of it." The Shinkasa's were pretty well off, what the American's might consider 'old money', so there was no reason to need such extensive information. From what he was able to gather, Jiro did it purely for the fun of it. Ranma didn't quite understand, but figured 'to each their own' and left it at that. Everyone had to have a hobby, right?
Recalling that Jiro claimed to be able to locate anyone, Ranma had approached him, asking to locate his mother. He didn't know if she was even alive, and his father had never spoken of her during their training trip. But he had to know. Jiro had agreed, making the deal that if he did this, Ranma would owe him one favour, to be called in at any time, for any reason.
And today, he had found her. Ranma still didn't know if she was alive, but from the way Jiro spoke, his contacts obviously thought she was.
Dressing himself as quietly as possible, Ranma looked into the pack he had set aside earlier. Inside were all of his possessions, as well as the money he had made teaching at the Shinkasa dojo that Nabiki hadn't managed to con out of him. Closing the pack, Ranma left it and crept out of the room.
Locating a pad of paper and a pen, Ranma scrawled out several notes, leaving one on the Tendo's dining room table. Silently making his way back upstairs, Ranma left one in Akane's room and another in Nabiki's, along with a small stack of money. Finally, Ranma crept back into the guest room and left the last note, addressed to his father, on his futon.
Hefting his pack onto one shoulder, Ranma pushed open the window, stepping up onto the ledge.
"Boy."
Ranma jerked, turning around slowly. His father was sitting up, placing his glasses on his face and reading the note Ranma had left. Genma looked up at his son.
"So you found her, did you." His father said softly.
"Yeah." Ranma said, nodding, preparing himself for his father to attack him in an effort to keep him from leaving.
"And you're going to find her." Genma said. It was more a statement than an actual question. "Are you sure you want to?"
Ranma nodded. "I know I want to. I have to."
Genma sighed, pushing his glasses up higher. "I never told you this, son, but your mother had a few requirements before she allowed me to take you on our training journey. The main and most important one," he paused, took a breath, then continued, "was a contract which we both signed, stating you would become a man among men, or the both of us would commit Seppuku."
Ranma's eyes widened. "...what?" he asked.
"You heard me, boy." Genma replied gruffly. "I would raise you to be a man among men, in her definition, or the two of us would commit ritual suicide. And you have a curse that turns you into a girl."
Emotions warred on Ranma's face for several moments, before settling on determination. "I don't care, pop. I need ta find her."
"Boy, do you understand?" Genma asked, staring hard at his son, the moonlight making his eyeglasses appear a solid white. "If your mother doesn't deem you to be a man among men, you will be honor-bound to follow through with that contract, as will I!"
Ranma nodded. "I understand, pop, but I gotta do this." his voice was determined.
Genma sighed. "And there's nothing I can do to talk you out of this?"
Ranma shook his head. "Nothing you can say, pop, will make me change my mind."
"You still have an obligation to fulfill the engagement with the Tendos."
"I've told you before, pop, I ain't gonna marry that tomboy or her sisters." Ranma hissed. "You can't stop me on this matter, pop. Even if you beat me unconscious," he said with a mocking tone, "I'll still try again tomorrow night, and the next night, until I succeed. And I will succeed. Ranma Saotome doesn't lose."
Genma was silent for several tense minutes, then gave a terse nod. "You're risking both of our lives with this, boy. I want you to promise me one thing before you go."
"And what's that?"
"That you will not give up the Art no matter what, that you will do everything you can to make sure your mother doesn't fulfill that contract, and that you will return." Genma said, locking eyes with his son.
"That's three things, pop."
Genma shot his son a glare, growling. "Just promise me, boy, on your honour."
Ranma nodded, his tone serious. "I promise, on my honour."
Genma sighed. "Thank you, son. You might not understand right now, but it was important for me to you make that promise. Get going now. I promise I won't try and stop you, and I'll do what i can to keep the others from doing anything rash."
Normally, Ranma wouldn't trust any promise Genma made, but something in his father's tone made him believe he could trust this one. Turning away, Ranma leaped out the window, landing silently on the yard below, then over the wall and into the night.
Back in the Tendo's guest room, Genma sighed. "Dammit, Destiny...you were right after all." He chuckled humourlessly. "Then again...you always are, aren't you." Picking up the note Ranma had intended to leave for him, he concentrated for a moment, and light red glow surrounded the page as the words shifted and changed.
Standing up, Genma pulled out a handkerchief and invoked one his sealed techniques, vanishing from sight. Slowly he crept out of the room and made alterations to the other three notes his son had left.
Sighing again, as he returned to his room, dropping his invisibility technique, Genma laid back down, his eyes still open as he removed his glasses, rubbing his forehead. "Good luck, my son. If she's right about everything else, you're going to need it. Hopefully the hell I put you through on that trip won't have been in vain."
He closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come.
Ranma walked out of JFK International Airport, his pack slung over his shoulder, cracking his neck with an audible pop. He had made it to the airport just in time to buy the last ticket on the next flight to New York, at an outrageously expensive price that nearly depleted his funds. In hindsight, it might have been a better idea to wait for another flight and conserve money, but Ranma didn't want to wait any longer than he had to. Dropping his last note off with the Shinkasa's had taken up a fair amount of time, but he felt in necessary that he let them know he would be gone for some time.
A part of him wished he'd at least stayed to say good-bye to the Tendos in person, but he knew if he did they'd have either tried to make him stay, or tried to come along with him, in Soun's case likely as a plot to get him closer to Akane.
The notes he had left had stated his reasons, but not his destination. He'd thanked them for everything they had done for him while he was there. He knew they'd probably try to look for him, but if his father could be trusted (which was still doubtful, in Ranma's mind), then they'd have a much harder time at it. Along with the bribe he'd left Nabiki to get her to not help them look, he expected it would be a long while before they'd be able to find him. By then, he hoped to have found his mother and possibly be on his way back to Japan.
It had been a relatively peaceful, if very long, flight, a fact that scared the crap out of him. The flight attendant had tripped whilst pushing the drink cart, and somehow, he had not ended up splashed. What's more, he'd had been seated next to a very nice young woman, and had engaged in a pleasant conversation for most of the flight. She had seemed rather disappointed when he declined her invitation to join the Mile High Club. It was probably a great thing for frequent fliers, but he figured he wouldn't be flying enough to appreciate the benefits.
Looking out on the city, Ranma came to a sudden realization.
"Where the hell do I go now?"
Sighing outloud - and mentally kicking himself for jumping the gun and not taking the time to plan everything he should have - Ranma started walking north, figuring it was better to be on the move than standing like an idiot outside the airport.
Nabiki awoke the next morning with the feeling that something was off. As she desperately tried to hold onto sleep for as long as she could, her mind was working the background to try and figure out exactly what this feeling was. It took almost half an hour for her to realize what it was.
The sounds of fighting that had awoken her every morning for the past year were absent. Sitting up, she looked out the window, just to make sure her ears just weren't playing tricks on her.
Nope, no Ranma having unnecessarily loud sparring with his father. Most curious.
Perhaps they had decided to take the day off? That possibility was immediately discarded. Those two would never take a day off unless they were both dead and dismembered. And even then they'd probably try.
Pulling herself away from the window, Nabiki set her mind to work. She doubted Ranma was sick, as he seemed perfectly fine last night, and even then she doubted Genma would allow him to skip out on training.
Putting on her robe and gathering her things, Nabiki prepared to head to the furo, hoping that it was empty. It was at this moment she noticed a decent stack of yen on her desk, next to a note. Picking up the money first, she flipped through it, enjoying the sound of the bills fluttering together. Had to be at least 30,000 yen, give or take, from the sound of it.
Putting the money down, she picked up the note. After puzzling through the chicken-scratch handwriting, her eyes widened a fraction.
-Nabiki
This money is a bribe. As you will son find out, I'm gone. I'm sorry I couldn't say good-bye in person, but it was necessary to do it this way.
Why I have left is my own business, and I ask you to trust me on this. I know the others will try to find me, and will likely try and get you to help them. The bribe is, hopefully, to help convince you to 'mislead' them, at least for a little while. I'll send you more when I'm able.
Please keep this note to yourself. In fact, destroy it. I've left another note for the whole family, and I'm sure you can act shocked when you hear what's on it.
If all goes as it should, I'll be seeing you again. When, I have no idea.
-Ranma
Blinking as she set the note down, she looked over at the stack of bills, as if considering.
"A month, Saotome." She said to herself. "For 30,000, I'll mislead them for a month. After that, you're on your own."
Slipping the note into her shredder, and then removing the pieces, she made her way to the bathroom, flushing the remains of the note down the toilet. Satisfied, she headed into the furo, practicing her look of shock for when she 'found out' about Ranma's disappearance.
Akane woke up as she normally did. Unlike her sister, she had no 'feeling' that anything was off about the day. In fact, she had the feeling that it was going to be a good day today. Hopefully that perverted jerk of a fiancé wouldn't force her to hurt him too much.
Swinging herself out of her bed, and accidentally knocking P-chan to the floor, Akane hummed to herself as she dressed in her workout clothes, readying herself for her usual morning run. As she moved to open the door, her eyes caught on the note addressed to her on her desk. Picking it up and unfolding it, she began to translate the chicken-scratch she had come to recognize as Ranma's handwriting.
-Akane
You're probably going to be very angry after reading this. No, scratch that. You're going to be very angry after reading this. Rest assured, when next we meet, you can pound on me all you like. I'll probably deserve it.
I'm leaving for a while. I don't know how long, and I'm sorry to say I can't tell you where I'm going. If I did, you might try to follow me, and I can't let you do that. The reason I left like this was to keep anyone from following me.
As much as we fight, I want you to know that I do care about you. Not in the way our parents want us to, but I consider you one of my best friends, and I wish we could have had our first meeting under more pleasant circumstances. Who knows, maybe that would have changed things for us...
In any case, I will see you again. Maybe we can have a new start, as friends. At the very least, you'll get to pound me for this.
Please keep this note to yourself, don't even show it to P-chan. It might be best to destroy it so no one comes across it by accident or on purpose. But that's up to you.
Be seein' ya, Tomboy.
-Ranma
Blinking in surprise, Akane let the note fall from her fingers. Her fingers clenched into a tight first. "Does that perverted jerk expect me to believe that?" She growled, opening the door and slamming it hard behind her.
Curious, P-chan walked over to the letter that had fallen to the floor. Reading it, his eyes filled with fury and he bweed in rage, racing out of the room.
"Yep." Ranma said to himself. "Definitely should have planned this better. Ranma, you idiot...had the foresight to snag your transcripts from the school, but did ya think to maybe find a map of the freakin' place you were going to? Nooo..." he trailed off into incomprehensible muttering.
He'd been walking for a little over an hour now, and still had no idea where exactly he should go. Fortunately, he was fluent in English, the one non-martial arts related subject his father had insisted he learn. And it was a good thing he did. In all his travels, he learned that you were not likely to find someone who spoke Japanese outside of Japan, but you would always find someone who spoke passable English. His reading skills weren't quite up to par, but as of yet they'd been enough to keep him from getting too lost.
Stopping at a street corner, Ranma sighed. 'Okay, Ranma, you have almost no money, no place to stay, you have almost no idea where you are or how to get to where you're going, you don't know anyone in this city, and worst of all, you have no food. Which of these problems would be easiest to solve first?'
Looking around, Ranma saw a man in a bluish-black uniform walking in his direction. Recognizing him after a moment as an American police officer, he walked up the man. "Excuse me," he asked in lightly accented English. "I was wondering if you could help me, officer."
The police officer, a tall, decently-built man with a kind face smiled. "I'll do what I can, son. What seems to be the problem."
Ranma chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "I was wonderin' if ya could tell me how to get to Bayville. My plane just arrived a few hours ago, and I realized I don't got no idea which way I'm s'posed to go."
The officer chuckled lightly. "Not problem, son. I happen to live in Bayville myself, just moved there with the wife a few months ago. Lovely town. Anyway," he pointed in the direction Ranma had been heading. "you'll want to keep heading north along this street. Luckily, it heads straight into Bayville. It's a bit far, though, so you might consider springing for a cab or something."
Ranma bowed in thanks. "Thank s officer. No need for a cab, though, I could use the exercise walkin'." Ranma turned, giving the officer a friendly wave, and was given one in return.
"Good luck, son." The officer called to the boy, smiling to himself as he continued down the street. "What a nice kid."
Ducking into a nearby alley, Ranma jumped as high as he could, ricocheting off the wall to push himself higher, landing on the roof. Looking over the cityscape before him, Ranma took a moment to enjoy the view, perfectly highlighted by the setting sun to the west. Smiling, he broke out into a run, directing his ki into his legs as he ran, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.
Charles Xavier was a simple man. At least, he liked to think so. He had his likes, his dislikes, his hopes and dreams, just like anyone else. Granted, he lived in an opulent mansion with several teenagers, all of whom had fantastic abilities one usually only saw in comic books, and his dreams involved helping foster a peaceful co-existence between humans and mutants. Lets not forget that he is also one of the strongest telepaths in the world. But despite all of this, he was a simple man.
Xavier, like all of his faculty and students, was a mutant. One of those few gifted with being slightly further along the evolutionary ladder then then rest of humanity. Not that he considered himself better or special because of it. Like previously stated, he considered himself merely gifted, similar in how artists and athletes were gifted.
At the moment, he was engaged in one of his favourite past times. Losing himself in a good book. So lost he was, he almost didn't hear the loud buzz and soft computerized voice female voice that followed it.
'DISCOVERY: MUTANT SIGNATURE'
Raising an eyebrow, the telepathic professor set his book aside and wheeled himself over to the far wall, where the frame of a painting was blinking. As he approached, the wall slide up and open.
Inside was a large console and monitor. This was Cerebro, a highly advanced mutant detection and location system Xavier had designed years ago. The voice continued as Xavier made his way over.
'EXTRAPOLATION: INCOMPLETE. IDENTITY: UNKNOWN. LOCATION: BAYVILLE, NEW YORK.' The screen changed, showing a detailed map of the city from above, then focusing in on a specific area at the edge of town. 'AGE: 17. POWERS: UNKNOWN.'
Wheeling inside the room, Xavier picked up the helmet that allowed him to connect his mind to Cerebro itself, using it to enhance his already formidable telepathic powers as he tried to hone in on the newly discovered mutant. To his surprise, nothing happened.
Reaching out with his mind, Xavier called out. 'Ororo, Logan, would you please join me at Cerebro?'Turning his head to the display again, he cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. How could the identity be unknown? What's more, how could he not hone in on them?
"You called, Charles?"
Xavier turned his head and smiled. "Ah, Ororo, thank you. Cerebro has detected a newly awakened mutant right here in Bayville." Looking past her, he asked. "Is Logan in?"
Ororo Munroe, a tall, statuesque African woman with flowing white hair shook her head. "I do not believe so, Professor. I saw him leave about an hour ago, likely headed out to that bar he so enjoys." she smiled. "Likely to get away from all the children. You know how Logan is.
Xavier chuckled. "Well, I had hoped he would be able to help with this, but that's quite all right." gesturing to the display, he continued. "As you can see, the new mutant is fortunately at the edge of town. Unfortunately, it appears as if Cerebro is having trouble giving us any more than his age and his exact location."
Removing the helmet and setting it on the console, Xavier then reached into a compartment below the main console. Withdrawing from it a device that resembled a a hand held television mixed with a phaser from Star Trek, he handed the device to Ororo. "I had Forge develop this recently. It should act as a direct uplink to Cerebro, allowing you to track the new mutant."
Ororo accepted the device with a nod, idly examining it. Xavier turned his chair around and without missing a beat, Ororo took hold of the handles and pushed him along.
The professor smiled at her. "Thank you. Anyway, if you could, I would like you to make contact with this young mutant, and ask them if they'd be willing to have a meeting with me. It is likely they're very confused about what has happened to them, and at the very least, we can provide them with the information, even if they decide they do not wish to stay."
"Should I bring any of the students?" Ororo asked as they arrived at Xavier's room.
Xavier considered this for a moment, then nodded. "That would be prudent, on the off chance that they prove hostile or dangerous. But no uniforms. No need to surround them with any more oddities than they may have experienced already. Scott and Jean, I think would be best." He rolled himself into his room, "I'll contact the good doctor and ask him to prepare the infirmary, just in case."
Ororo nodded and headed off to find the two students she was to take with her.
Logan stepped out of the bar, a small smile on his face. Damn, he loved that place. Liquor, pool, and if he's lucky enough, a good 'ol fashioned barroom brawl. Although tonight had only provided the first two, it was enough to raise his spirits.
The students were getting to be a bit of a handful. He loved the kids, he honestly did, but it galled him how little they cared for his combat training. They didn't seem to realize that they couldn't always rely on their powers in a fight, or that sometimes you had to go hand-to-hand.
Even worse was knowing the potential several of them had. Kurt in particular, with his agility and teleportation, could be devastating at hand-to-hand! Rogue as well. Hell, the southern girl would benefit the most. She wouldn't always be capable of taking off her gloves to drain an opponent, and doing such a thing wasn't such a good idea anyway. Who knows how long before she drained too many memories and developed a personality disorder or something?
Logan snorted. "What they need is some proper motivation." he muttered to himself as he walked to his motorcycle. Despite the amount of alcohol he had drank, he wasn't feeling the slightest bit tipsy. It was one of the few disadvantages to having highly-enhanced regenerative abilities. His body broke down the alcohol almost as soon as he consumed it, meaning he had to drink twice as much in half the time , and even then it wouldn't last nearly as long.
As he passed by an alley, he was suddenly brought out of his thoughts by the metal clanging. Looking into the alley, he could see six figures, five of which were ganging up on the last, all five with various weapons in hand. He was about to intervene when he saw the grin on the sixth figure's face. He looked to be about sixteen, maybe seventeen, and was wearing what Logan thought to be a red Chinese tang and black drawstring pants. Asian, Japanese Logan believed, with black hair tied back into a long pigtail. He was slender, yet Logan could see some obvious muscle on the kid.
He raised an eyebrow as he saw one of the five, a section of pipe in his hand, lunge at the boy with a swing and the boy calmly dodged, grabbing the man by the wrist and throwing him against the far wall, delivering kick to his stomach as he did.
Leaning up against the wall, yet ready to jump in if it looked like the kid needed any help, Logan continued to observe. The kid was good. Damn good. He dodged effortlessly around his attackers, ducking and weaving, even bending himself almost completely backwards. To the Canadian mutants trained eye, he could see the kid had far more skill than he was showing. Every movement was precise and calculated, yet flowed naturally.
Damn. This kid was better than him!
Less than a minute later, all five guys were lying on the ground, unconscious. Logan observed as the boy looked down at the men, shrugged, and began going through their pockets. "Spoils of war?" Logan asked.
The kid looked up at him and flashed an arrogant grin. "Yep. These fucks figured if they knocked me out, they'd get my money. Seems fair that it should work th'other way around, eh?"
Logan raised an eyebrow. Despite how wrong it sounded, that made a great deal of sense. Logan shrugged. Kid wasn't hurting anyone who didn't deserve it. "Alright then," Logan replied. "Anyway, just wanted to tell ya good fight. You got some skill."
The boy smirked. "'course I do. I'm the best."
Logan snorted, heading out of the alley. "I'm sure. See ya around, kid." He'd been tempted to get the kid to help him with training the students, but figured Chuck might have a problem with bringing in a non-mutant. Maybe he could set something up where they met him off the Institute grounds. Something to sleep on, Logan decided. This was all assuming he ever saw the kid again.
Glancing back into the alley, the kid was gone. Logan snorted. Figures.
"Logan?"
Turning around Logan saw Ororo approaching, a strange device in her hand that was emitting a near-inaudible beep. Behind her were Scott and Jean. "What you three doin' out this late, 'ro? And what's the doohickey?"
"Cerebro detected a new mutant in the area, apparently one who's X-gene has just become active." Ororo explained. "Charles asked us to try and find him and extend and invitation to the mansion. This," she held up the device, "is something Forge apparently cooked up. It allows one to remain in contact with Cerebro or some kind of specialized network, and allows us to track the signal of a specific X-gene."
Logan blinked. "That was a simplified explanation, and I still have no idea what it all meant."
"Neither do we," Scott admitted. "But I do know that this flashy dot represents the new mutant, and following the flashy dot will bring us to him. Also, it's all we know how to do with the thing."
"I think if we keep looking, we could find Tetris on there." Jean joked.
"Which would make this piece of crap infinitely more useful." Ororo grumbled. "Okay, it's in this alley right here."
The quartet looked into the alley, three pairs of eyes widening it the sight of five unconscious men lying on the asphalt.
"Huh." Logan snorted, "I was just here. Watched a kid take down all five of these guys without breakin' a sweat."
Ororo sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "It says the new mutant in here, but there's no one here except five unconscious men who are far too old to be the one we're looking for." She three the device into her purse. "Piece of crap." she muttered.
Logan exchanged a glance with Scott. The former mouthed the words 'time of the month' to the younger boy. He received an elbow in the stomach for that.
On a nearby roof, Ranma was gingerly rubbing his shoulder. "That was weird for a buncha muggers." he muttered. One of the men had been a thin, scrawny guy, same build as Hikaru Gosunkugi. Yet when he hit, the guy had strength to rival Ryoga's. He'd taken several blows, thankful the guy had no where near Ryoga's level of skill to properly use that strength. After the first dozen hits, though, the man's strength seemed to vanish, surprising the man and providing Ranma the opportunity to sucker-punch him. Turns out the guy had a glass jaw, too.
Still, the abnormal strength, and the sudden disappearance of it, was a little odd. But instead of dwelling on it, Ranma came to the conclusion that it must be magic and proceeded to completely forget about the matter. Leaning back, using his pack as a backrest, he soon fell asleep.
End Chapter One
Author's Notes: Well, I re-read the original first chapter after reading some of the reviews, and come to the conclusion that people were right. It was chock-full of cliches. Originally, I was gonna leave it and make sure the rest of the story had as few cliches as possible, until I got this idea. After thinking it through, I realized it would work with my original plot line, albeit with a few minor but manageable changes. So, with a surge of nicotine-fueled writing, I managed to crank this rewrite out in half the time it took me to do the original. Go me!
Nabiki will still be joining the institute, but it won't be happening for a few chapters yet.
Yep, Genma's a mutant now, with, as you may have guessed, the power to change written text. It may not seem like much, but remember, the pen is mightier than the sword, and if you can change what the pen has scribed...
Ranma's powers, at the moment, will remain shrouded in mystery, but they're not too different than what they were before. More on that next chapter. Or maybe the chapter after that. It depends.
Anyway, as always, please review! And thank you to everyone who reviewed the original as well.