Prologue
He crawled into bed in a bad mood. He couldn't believe he had actually read that story. The sun was well up and he had spent the last few hours reading what he hoped would be a good Ranma darkfic, but it had the waffiest ending he had ever had the misfortune to read.
"What's up with all this happy ending crap?" he asked one of his posters. He wasn't surprised when Violent J, Shaggy 2 Dope, Jamie Madrox or the Monoxide Child refused to answer. He sighed disgustedly. He had wasted all of that time reading that story when he could have been out hitting a bowl with his buds, or getting with his girl. But no, all of that time that could have been better spent elsewhere was wasted reading a story that should not have ended that way.
He scratched his goatee and stared at the ceiling. It was gonna be a bad night at work, thanks to that damned story. One bad story usually ends up ruining his whole week. It was a crappy way to spend his last day off. He growled deep in his throat as he felt sleep creep upon him.
"Fuckin' shitty ass waffy ending," he muttered to no-one. "Wish I coulda done that, it woulda turned out better." He couldn't write a Ranma fic if his life depended on it. He didn't know much of anything about the series except what he had read in fics and what few episodes he's seen, add to that he didn't like the series in the least, but the darkfics were good because they usually killed off the characters he found truly annoying. He fully embraced slumber with those disgruntled thoughts floating through his mind.
*****
Coincidentally, one of the few remaining spirits powerful enough to take corporeal form just happened to be passing by when it caught the distinct odor of displeasure pouring out of the second floor of a house in a small town in south-central Virginia. It had no earthly reason to be passing by on that morning, but it was and we're not going to ask any of those annoying questions that pop up from time to time to question plot devices, now are we? Good, now where was I?
Ah yes, the spirit followed it's senses and found the source of the massive amounts of negative energy in the form of a sleeping young man. The spirit looked at him and was disturbed. It hadn't felt this much undirected anger and hate in millennium. It didn't know if it should allow the man to live. It thought about it for a moment, then decided that so much undirected negative energy was not to be allowed.
He reached an ethereal arm into the young man's chest to stop his heart when the man somehow repelled it. It clutched at it's burned arm and looked at the young man differently. It tried again and got the same results. It pondered this quandary for a moment and tried different avenues, all of which failed.
It was a reasonably intelligent spirit, and it seemed to it that something had to have sparked the man's ire. It decided to try to find out what it was. It looked around the room, trying to find the source. The room was fairly large and cluttered to all corners. It had two beds, a large chair with two table flanking it, a computer desk, an entertainment center and just about everything else a man in his early twenties would think he needed.
The television was cold and looked like it hadn't been used in quite awhile, so it ignored that. The large chair in front of the entertainment center had a book sitting on it's arm. There was a light coating of dust on both, so that wasn't the source either. The spirit didn't know a whole lot about the humans of the current era, but it knew enough to get by. For instance, it knew what a computer was, but it's proficiency in one's use was less than that of a third grader. It did know enough to be able to check what the young man was doing before he stopped.
Ah, the spirit thought, so that's the source. It had found it. Even though it was looking at the monitor, it could still feel the hate the man had directed toward this document. It had left a residue.
If the spirit had a face, a wide grin would have split it as it thought of something completely delicious to do to the young, rage filled young man. It turned toward the sleeping form and started to concentrate all of it's energies. Slowly, ever so slowly, the young man's form started to become indistinct.
After awhile, the sheets that had covered the man listlessly sank back onto the bed as he disappeared. The spirit was exhausted. It had used more energy in this one act than it had in the last century. It would need awhile to recuperate, which would give the young man time to vent his pent up rage and hate on those who had caused it. The spirit liked this solution because it didn't kill the young man, but it got him out of the way so his energies wouldn't explode and destroy him and everything around him.
It made one final scan of the room, seemed to sigh and then left. It needed some rest.
He crawled into bed in a bad mood. He couldn't believe he had actually read that story. The sun was well up and he had spent the last few hours reading what he hoped would be a good Ranma darkfic, but it had the waffiest ending he had ever had the misfortune to read.
"What's up with all this happy ending crap?" he asked one of his posters. He wasn't surprised when Violent J, Shaggy 2 Dope, Jamie Madrox or the Monoxide Child refused to answer. He sighed disgustedly. He had wasted all of that time reading that story when he could have been out hitting a bowl with his buds, or getting with his girl. But no, all of that time that could have been better spent elsewhere was wasted reading a story that should not have ended that way.
He scratched his goatee and stared at the ceiling. It was gonna be a bad night at work, thanks to that damned story. One bad story usually ends up ruining his whole week. It was a crappy way to spend his last day off. He growled deep in his throat as he felt sleep creep upon him.
"Fuckin' shitty ass waffy ending," he muttered to no-one. "Wish I coulda done that, it woulda turned out better." He couldn't write a Ranma fic if his life depended on it. He didn't know much of anything about the series except what he had read in fics and what few episodes he's seen, add to that he didn't like the series in the least, but the darkfics were good because they usually killed off the characters he found truly annoying. He fully embraced slumber with those disgruntled thoughts floating through his mind.
*****
Coincidentally, one of the few remaining spirits powerful enough to take corporeal form just happened to be passing by when it caught the distinct odor of displeasure pouring out of the second floor of a house in a small town in south-central Virginia. It had no earthly reason to be passing by on that morning, but it was and we're not going to ask any of those annoying questions that pop up from time to time to question plot devices, now are we? Good, now where was I?
Ah yes, the spirit followed it's senses and found the source of the massive amounts of negative energy in the form of a sleeping young man. The spirit looked at him and was disturbed. It hadn't felt this much undirected anger and hate in millennium. It didn't know if it should allow the man to live. It thought about it for a moment, then decided that so much undirected negative energy was not to be allowed.
He reached an ethereal arm into the young man's chest to stop his heart when the man somehow repelled it. It clutched at it's burned arm and looked at the young man differently. It tried again and got the same results. It pondered this quandary for a moment and tried different avenues, all of which failed.
It was a reasonably intelligent spirit, and it seemed to it that something had to have sparked the man's ire. It decided to try to find out what it was. It looked around the room, trying to find the source. The room was fairly large and cluttered to all corners. It had two beds, a large chair with two table flanking it, a computer desk, an entertainment center and just about everything else a man in his early twenties would think he needed.
The television was cold and looked like it hadn't been used in quite awhile, so it ignored that. The large chair in front of the entertainment center had a book sitting on it's arm. There was a light coating of dust on both, so that wasn't the source either. The spirit didn't know a whole lot about the humans of the current era, but it knew enough to get by. For instance, it knew what a computer was, but it's proficiency in one's use was less than that of a third grader. It did know enough to be able to check what the young man was doing before he stopped.
Ah, the spirit thought, so that's the source. It had found it. Even though it was looking at the monitor, it could still feel the hate the man had directed toward this document. It had left a residue.
If the spirit had a face, a wide grin would have split it as it thought of something completely delicious to do to the young, rage filled young man. It turned toward the sleeping form and started to concentrate all of it's energies. Slowly, ever so slowly, the young man's form started to become indistinct.
After awhile, the sheets that had covered the man listlessly sank back onto the bed as he disappeared. The spirit was exhausted. It had used more energy in this one act than it had in the last century. It would need awhile to recuperate, which would give the young man time to vent his pent up rage and hate on those who had caused it. The spirit liked this solution because it didn't kill the young man, but it got him out of the way so his energies wouldn't explode and destroy him and everything around him.
It made one final scan of the room, seemed to sigh and then left. It needed some rest.