In a message dated 97-10-22 00:31:45 EDT, wolf@sbm.org writes:
<< So... the revengefics are coming back are they?
Well... I agree with Richard about the Revengefics being a lot of
wish-bringing. With the exception of the guy that commits suicide and couple
of the other REALLY twisted revenges... they aren't too bad.
>>
<Jumps up and down> Ooh! ooh! he mentioned me!!! :). Actually, it was Jon
Farber's idea for the suicide. I would have just settled for mere insanity.
Either way, it turned out to be an interesting piece, to say the least.
Anyway, here's a refresher for those who missed it:
PXDN
***
Perfect Revenge
A revengefic by
Jonathan Lung and Jon Farber
Disclaimer: I did not write all of this on my own. I had originally
intended for this to end around halfway. Then Jon Farber came around wrote
an extension to it. I in turn decided to "bridge" the two endings with a few
intern scenes. This story should not be considered bright in any way. This
is a _very_ dark piece, and blame Richard Lawson for writing his revengefic
in a serious tone :).
***
I sit here in this dank cell, the straitjacket fitted snugly around me.
Occasionally, I stare at the dripping ceiling, the only source of
entertainment in this room. Why am I here, you ask? Quite simple...I wrote
something. It wasn't much, it was a fanfic actually. Just a humorous (in my
opinion) Ranma 1/2 fic, nice and happy...okay, so maybe I made Ukyo slightly
partial to the new character I inserted... but other than that, it was okay.
I posted it to a mailing list, and received little response. That's done
with, I had thought at the time, but...I was wrong.
I still lurked on that list afterwards, occasionally placing a comment or
two to a fic or so. Then, I received it, an e-mail. Address came from
Ukyo@revenge.rw.org, header was simply "Revenge is Subtle." No message. I
had heard of the revengefics, and what they symbolized. Quite simply, the
ones that you have written about would come, and extract what they believed
was appropriate revenge upon you. Most received a Jusenkyo curse or similar.
Heh! If only I were so lucky... They merely lost their physical form,
whilst I lost my life, and some would say my sanity.
You see, after that little message, I had "encounters." At school, on the
street, everywhere, at least one of them would be there. Sometimes, it would
be a "konnichi-wa," or a "nihao" from a peculiar crew of people, ranging from
the Asian with the pigtail to the bokken-wielding poetry-spouter. Then it
became worse; lengthy soliloquies, a near miss from a thrown spatula, and a
maniacal laugh from the darkness. Yes, if you guessed the Ranma cast, ten
points for you. Of course, I was the only one to see or hear them, and to
double the problem, the only one around to see them. It had gone on for so
long, and slowly, slowly, it unnerved me, and caused me to stay in my room,
utterly locked away from the light, away from _them_. Then one day, Ukyo
decided to drop by _in my room_, just for kicks, and a little fake flirting.
What did I do? Simple really, I _freaking screamed_ bloody murder.
It was a shame that my parents were home at the time.
So, after a small amount of half-insane (yes, at that time, I was insane)
gibbering of fanfics and anime and the whole bit, a quick eval on the part of
a psychiatrist, and here I am...in the sanitarium of the damned.
Ranma, Akane, and Ukyo did decide to stop by and chat for a while earlier.
"Why?" I asked simply.
"Well," Ranma started, "Jusenkyo's getting empty from all the revenges..."
Ukyo flashed me a saccharine smile. "And we knew that you would have
probably adapted to any curse we could have given you."
"Why this though? I've done nothing," I stated rather pathetically. I was
at their whim, what with me in a straitjacket and their combined martial arts
skill, I could do little more than whimper.
"You do remember that fanfic you wrote a few months ago, right?"
"_What?!_" I nearly yelled, incredulous at the reason. "That thing? It
wasn't even worth the hard drive space anyway, why hash it out on me?"
Akane cut in before the other two could respond. "Because you didn't try,
and as a result, we lived through the terrible story you created."
"Not only that, " Ukyo said, spatula out, "you made me attracted to some
god-awful self-insertion character!"
"WHAT!!!" This time I yelled. "I never did such a thing!"
"But you implied it, didn't you?" Ukyo said, her even tone cutting through
my soul like a laser through ice.
"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, _ne_?" I retorted, some of my wits regained.
"Either way, you deserve to stay in this room," Ranma said, "for what you
did to me! You made me _lose_ to that new character of yours!"
Now I knew my fate was sealed. I had committed what could have been
considered the most heinous act against Ranma: making him lose in a fight.
"But...as we're fair people," Akane started again, "we'll give you a way out
of this place..."
That was when they faded out of sight and the men came into my room, ready
to sedate me. I didn't bother to struggle, as it would have been pointless.
***
When I awoke again, I was alone with my thoughts and the dripping ceiling.
Or maybe not. As I looked around my cell, I noticed something in the
corner. It was a bucket, and I could almost smell the Jusenkyo water in it.
Looks like it didn't get emptied, I thought wryly.
I realized what they meant by a way out. I could simply dunk my head into
that bucket, and I'd be a different person, most undoubtedly one of the
opposite gender. The sanitarium would have to let me out, on the account of
mistaken identity.
But at what cost freedom for me? Sure, I could use the bucket, but where
would I be once I got out? I couldn't go home again, with the curse hanging
over me and the asylum officials looking for my hide. Either way, I would
lose, and they would win.
"So this is subtle revenge..." I muttered to myself.
The decision could wait, I thought to myself before I went to sleep again.
I have all the time in the world.
***
I had a dream that night, laying on the surface of my prison. I was home
again, and everything was normal. No revenge, no straitjacket, my life mine
again. I could do what I wanted again, without fear or paranoia; a future
waiting. Suddenly, it shattered around me, the image turning suddenly horrid
when my dream surrogate spilled his drink on himself, and changed.
I never found out what I transformed into, because I awoke from the
nightmare screaming. As I lay panting for the stale air around me, I noticed
a sour odor, and I clearly knew where it came from.
"No..." I muttered, "I won't let them win!" A dragged myself up on my
feet, a hard task considering the straitjacket, and stumbled over to the
Jusenkyo bucket, still in its place. I kicked that accursed water source
across the room, letting the liquid spread across the room. Utterly
exhausted from even that small action, I stumbled back to my original
position, away from the water now half spread out across the room.
The bucket came back the night after, completely full, and a note attached
to it stating, "Nice try, -Love, Ucchan." I think I started to sob after
that, but I'm not sure.
***
"Why am I here?" I kept asking the evaluators whenever they interviewed me.
"I haven't done anything, and I'm not insane."
They would often respond with psychiatric jargon designed to make a poor
soul think that he is insane, so they could make even more money. Sometimes,
they would actually respond in English.
The drugs weren't helping that much. Every day, it was a battery of the
stuff: anti-depressants, stimulants, and manufacturers-know-what kinds of
medicine designed to "heal" the disturbed mind. But, what does it do to the
one who was perfectly sane?
It continued for an endless time. No one told me what time it was, or the
date. The only thing I could tell was day or night, via the sliver of a
window in my cell. Food was delivered through a slot in the door. I idly
wondered to myself if the scenes of sanitariums in the movies were really
true, the ones where inmates play table tennis all day, and actually receive
decent treatment.
I guess not.
***
A few days later, or maybe a few seconds later, I realized that nothing
would change. No matter what I could do, it wouldn't matter. For a time,
that water lured me to it, a quick, possibly easy way out. The trio had said
the reason they didn't use it before was because I would have adapted to it.
They couldn't have been more wrong. I feared it, feared its power, its
symbolism, its utter presence. The curse of Jusenkyo did more than merely
change your form, depending on what you believed. It would change your
outlook, your life, everything. It stemmed from that initial change, and it
would spread like a plague, infecting your soul until it was permanently
altered, twisted beyond recognition.
Other constitutions would have been able to take that stress, truly adapted
to it, but not me. Whatever willpower I had those days was gone and less
than dust. It was an impossible path, and couldn't be considered in any way.
Only time could be chosen. More time to wait, plan, and ponder.
***
<The following is by Jon Farber>
I woke up a few hours later, or maybe a few days, and the water was still
there. The bucket had not moved, and the water had not evaporated. I looked
down, and noticed that someone had taken off my
straightjacket. That was nice of them. It felt good to strech my arms
again.
I stood up and began to pace my cell. I needed to find a way out of here,
but I wasn't going to let them win. But how to get out of here, without
using the cursed water. Get out of here without using the
cursed water. Get out of here. Get out. Out. Out. Out.
That's when it hit me. It was so simple. I can't see why I didn't think of
it before. I started hearing laughter echoing in my cell. At first, it
didn't sound quite sane, but then I realized it was my own, and I decided it
really didn't matter. I also decided to join in the laughter.
***
It was another week before Ranma, Akane, and Ukyo came back. It was kind of
hard, trying to keep from laughing at all the fools that thought I was crazy
during that week. I was really the most sane one
here. And soon, they would all see that.
I was ready for them when they arrived. I had everything planned out.
"Okay, you've won. I'm ready." I had to hold the laughter in tightly.
Couldn't let them know that I had them beat.
Ranma smirked smugly. "I knew you would crack sooner or later. Let's get
this over with, and then we'll leave you alone."
Good. I was planning on that.
"Before we do this, Ukyo, could I see one of your little spatulas? I've
always wondered if they were as sharp as everyone thinks they are." Ukyo
looked a little doubtful. I laughed a little. Not a deep good laugh, like I
had been doing of late, but an old laugh, like I used to do, before
everything became clear to me. "You really think I could defeat the three of
you with one little spatula?"
Ukyo smiled a bit, and handed me one of the spatulas. "Be careful, they're
really sharp."
"Ranma, before we go any farther, I want you to read this note." I handed
him a sheet of paper, and turned around, looking out the window.
***
Akane and Ukyo gathered around while Ranma read what was on the paper.
"This is my perfect revenge, Ranma, Akane, Ukyo. You reap what you sow."
Ranma stared at the paper, not understanding what it meant. "Hey, what do
you mean by this?" The man didn't respond. "Hey? I asked you a question."
Still no response from the man. "Damn it, answer me!"
Ranma grabbed the man by the shoulder and flung him around.
Ukyo's spatula was sticking out of the man's throat at a nice angle. Pink
froth was bubbling out of the man's mouth.
He was drowning on his own blood.
The man smiled, and died.
-------------
As I said, this wasn't going to be pretty. As for the death scene, it
is possible to slash the carotid artery, and not have blood spurt
everywhere. You sever it so that it empties into the throat. The
person then dies of either drowning or blood loss.
Little disclaimer here. I, in no way, shape or form, endorse suicide as
a solution to problems.
--
JD Farber
***
That's it. I, like Mr. Farber, do not endorse suicide as a way out.
PXDN