Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Send your lawyers at their own peril, I will use my unholy powers to send them back to the very pits of Hell from which they were bred into being! And you wont get any money. So, Bleh!

A teen about 5'10" with short, dirty blond hair and glasses walks onto a slightly larger-than-small stage. The teen is wearing navy blue cargo shorts and a black shirt that has a picture of a sniper rifle with letters written underneath spelling out 'Awp-whore'.

Looking directly into the teleprompter next to a camera, he begins to read the words scrolling up the small screen.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to the FIRST installment of Ph34r Productions!" Raising his arms for dramatic effect, he waits for the computer simulated applause to die down before continuing.

"My name is Ph34r, and I will be your host for tonight. As I'm sure none of you know, I am the not-so-proud author of an original writing called First Contact, which practically no one knows, nor cares about. Now some of you may be wondering why I'm calling this the first installment if I already have a piece out there, but I'm almost certain you're not so I wont bother to tell you."

Blinking at his last line, he glanced at something behind the camera before shrugging it off and continuing to read.

"There are some things that I would like to ask you, the reader, to do for me. First, I would greatly appreciate it if you were to review this after you read it. It would really help me in the making of the next chapter. Or even if I should make a next chapter. You wouldn't believe what a positive, or a negative, comment does to the moral of a writer. I'd also love it if you all could tell me any mistakes that I make during my writing process, I am still very new to this whole "posting your writing" thing."

Pausing to grasp his hands behind his back, Ph34r smiles into the camera.

"Now that we have that out of the way, I would like to take some time to explain what all of this is."

Turning to face another camera, Ph34r continues talking, "This stage is where I will be hosting every fic that Ph34r Productions manages to churn out, as a way to open before the fic and to put out any thoughts that I may have. Or just to screw around."

Without pausing, Ph34r turns to a third camera.

"These segments can and will last anywhere from a paragraph to some untold amount of pages. I will try to keep it below 2 pages as a maximum, but I might have something to say that may put this part over my limit. Don't worry though, the amount of page space that I put in this part in no way affects how many pages there will be in my writing. It just makes it look longer. I also th-"

Cough Cough

Interrupted by someone coughing off stage, Ph34r glances over to the source of it before returning his gaze back to the camera.

"Well it appears as though I've taken too much of your time with this segment already, and I must leave."

Turning on his heel, Ph34r begins to walk off the stage before stopping as though he's forgotten something.

"Oh yes, and I suppose I should start up the fic." Suddenly shouting out "ROLL FIC!" into the air, the screen starts to darken. The last thing seen is Ph34r turning his back to the camera and walking off the stage.

We all know what happened during the battle with Saffron, right? Ranma felled him with a revised Dragon's Heaven-blast. Well what if things didn't exactly go as everyone had been told? What if it wasn't the Blast that killed him, but instead something else? Something terrible. Something that had been bound….for over six years.

Ph34r Productions Presents:

Controlling the Tempest

A Ranma ½ fanfiction

In the Tokyo metropolis there are over 20 different wards - 23 to be exact - that lend their hand in making Tokyo the considered capitol of Japan. Most of these wards are normal enough, though there are a few oddballs here and there that have been known to raise the bar for what can be considered 'normal'. Consider the Juuban ward for instance, known for it's Sailor Suited Sentai girls parading about destroying property and Youma- all in the name of love and justice of course. But fortunately this story has nothing to do with that place. No, my story takes place somewhere that takes the normality bar and throws it out the window muttering about how people shouldn't leave their bars lying about. I am, of course, talking about Nerima. And now after six years of silently standing in the shadows, it is now time for me to step into the light.

But, alas, I am getting ahead of myself. First I believe you should know a little about who and what I am. A good place to start would be with a name, I think. My name; or one of them at any rate, I have been around for quite some time, is Arthur. And I am the avatar for the Goddess Bast.

Knowing this means that I can tell you why for six years I have been standing in the aforementioned shadows. Six years ago an atrocity was committed, a technique was used that I had thought I destroyed over 100 years ago. Apparently I didn't do as good of a job as I had thought in my mission to erase all traces of the technique used. The technique was- no is, one of the most horrible things a human can do to itself. This technique, when trained in it properly, forces a demon's essence to bond to the mind and body of the trainee. The demon is usually a low level one, since the stronger ones have enough power to resist the pull of the technique. The demon, once inside the human, then implants itself into the human's body and mind piece by piece until it has taken over all functions of the human. While this has the effect of increasing the human's speed, strength, agility, and everything else to the max; it also drives him insane, to the point where his mind is nothing more than a vegetable who's body is controlled by the demon.

Once the human's mind is completely taken over by the demon, the demon itself will eventually lose it's sanity as well. The sudden forced entry into a human body, a body that does not have the capacity to hold all of the demon's essence, is to much for the demon's own mind to handle. It will usually take 3 days before the demon completely takes over the humans body and mind; longer if the trainee is of particularly strong mental or physical health. Then it will take anywhere from a week to a year before the demon finally losses its grip on sanity, depending on the strength of the demon taken in. The weaker the demon is the longer it will stay sane, as the shift between its body and the humans isn't as great as a stronger demon's would be. Less essence to transfer, less amount that doesn't come over into the human's body. But no matter how weak the demon or how strong the mental health of the trainee is, there can be only one possible outcome for either of them: death.

This technique was called the Neko-ken in a mockery of how the technique was taught, and six years ago an idiot father trained his ten year old son in it. In the man's defense, he was led to believe that the Neko-ken was the ultimate technique to learn; that it would augment his child's Martial Art's powers to unbelievable levels. Which it would have - just at the expense of his mind, and then later his life.

Fortunately, I was able to respond to my Goddess's call in time to help these poor fools. I managed to arrive quickly enough to be able to effectively bind the demon that was summoned into the back of the child's mind. For a time at least. The spell that I used should have been strong enough to hold a mid-level demon for well over a century. But, as it turned out, I miscalculated the strength of the demon bound to the human child. It came as an incredibly unfortunate surprise when, after I had cast the spell, I could already feel the binds placed on the demon weakening ever-so-slightly.

Searching for the reason behind this, I studied the training manual that the father had with him. I found it saturated with the power of the God that created the Neko-ken- Loki, the God of Mischief. I came to the conclusion that this must be the original training manual that Loki first created. It did explain why it wasn't destroyed with the rest of the manuals a century ago. But this didn't explain why the demon was at such a high-level. I needed to talk to my Goddess.

Using my powers, I altered the memories of the boy and father so they would not remember me from the time I spent with them. This was a safety precaution, mortals are not permitted to know of the existence of Gods, Goddesses and their avatars- who knows what would happen if any of the religious nuts out there realized that there actually were higher beings than them. But I digress.

After seeking the council from my patron Goddess, I was given the mission to follow the boy until my spell was broken by the demon within him. So now, after six years, my spell has finally degraded into nothing. It amazes me that it has lasted this long with the constant strain that has been put on it these last 6 months. It seems that the his last battle with the Phoenix claiming to be a god was too much for the spell to handle. Now the only thing that is holding the demon at bay is the boy's own mental shields that he had put up to keep his sanity during the Neko-ken training. These will not last very long against the power of the demon. Already I can see his shields weakening, and it has not even been a week since my spell broke.

I must take him to see my Goddess, for only she can help now. It was my mission to watch and wait for the spell to break, and if possible to help him in any way that I could. I must take him to Bast, she will be able to help. She has to be able to. Because if she can't, I would have to complete the other half of my mission: to kill him if it becomes clear that there is no more hope for him.

I'm not sure if I could do that. I don't know if I could kill someone whom I have watched over for six years. I must pray that it will not come to that. Tomorrow, we will met for the second time in six years. And I can only hope that I will be able to convince you to come with me. So until we meet tomorrow, sleep well. Sleep well Ranma Saotome. You will need it.

End Prologue