Chronicles of the Immortal.

Disclaimer: Ranma � belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, and we own none of its characters or situations. The Vampire Chronicles, belong to Mistress Anne Rice, we humbly bow to her greatness and take no claim on her characters or situations. As this is simply in fun and nothing more, we specifically state that we are not making a penny from this and never intend to. (though donations to us are greatly appreciated!) Please don't sue us Mistress Anne Rice, we are your fledglings, and could never do anything to upset your true majesty� We love ya man!


Chapter 1: Teaser

    How can you stop a nightmare when it's already started?  You try everything within your power to stop the nightmare from unfolding, your strength draining from your struggle against the dark figures in the deepest recesses of your mind.  The laughter from one solitary figure haunts you as you fight your way to him.  You feel the blood gush from the gashes along your arms and face as your hatred blinds you.  Your hatred becomes your fuel, your fire, and even your strength.  Sometimes I think that my hatred was the only thing that kept me going all of that time, guiding me through the obstacles that that demon had laid out in front of me.
    My name is Ranma Saotome, and what I'm about to tell you will frighten you beyond any nightmare that you could have ever had in your life.  It's something that has haunted me for the last year.  I'm not talking about ghosts and other types of the dead.  I am talking about the undead.  In the last year, I have had to survive through a blood war with what we call vampires, Nosferatu, or even Lamia.  There are a lot more names for them than that, but that was just a few.  I really don't give a damn what they're called.  I only hunt them down and kill them.
    There was a time when my life was like a game.  I'd meet another opponent with a rivaling power and I'd win somehow.  I always did.  I would somehow figure out a way to beat any person that threw their fist or chi-blast my way.  Even if the odds looked like they were against me, my will alone kept me strong.  Heh.  I just realized what I called my life; a game.  That's exactly what Lestat was doing with me.  He was treating the whole ordeal like a game.  But it wasn't a game to me.  I had become the hunter after that night.  I started to stalk him no matter where he went, and even though he seemed to be so much more powerful than me, my own power was steadily increasing.
    It was after that single night I witnessed the true nature of evil that I started to look at life in a new way.  Just like Lestat, in his books calling life a Savage Garden, I began calling it a Dark Fantasy.  Life is just like a fantasy, giving you all that your heart desires, but then, all of a sudden, reality kicks back in and your ass has the footprint.
   I still carry that pain.  Even though it has only been one year, I don't think that my quest is over.  With Shampoo back in China and me running the Tendo dojo, I think that there still could be some others out there who know about me by now.  They might even fear me.  Actually, I know that there are a few others out there, roaming the world by night and taking blood to keep their preternatural bodies alive.
    If you haven't heard of Lestat before, let me clue you in.  Lestat de Lioncourt, a two- hundred-year-old vampire, is one of the strongest of his kind as of late.  I had to research this information during my quest to find this out.  Lestat wrote his very own books, cleverly disguised as fiction, I might add.  His first, The Vampire Lestat, told of how he came to be and how he lived his newly immortal life, testing the old vampire coven in the cemetery Les Innocents in Paris by breaking all of their laws in some way or other.
    Lestat always looked for a new challenge that befitted his abilities, once he had taken blood from the mother of the vampires in Queen of the Damned, he spent two days in the Sahara Desert, exposing himself to the sun. He came out with immense pain and a nifty tan, but otherwise unhurt.  Boy, don't I wish he woulda fried.  My main reason for reading his books in the first place was centered on a clich� that has been told many times around, but I mainly heard it from Pops, "know your enemy".  Thank the kami that the bonehead was arrogant enough to write everything about his kind, but then again, he was never worried, was he?  Hell, he might as well have called it "The Idiot's Guide to Vampires."  But that's the French for ya.
    I may have been his main quarry, but damn him for including the others.  I would have been happy if he would have just kept the game with me, but I guess he felt like raising the stakes, even baiting me along like a fish to a hook.  I know why he did it though, not that it makes it any better.  It was a game to him afterall, but I think he knew that the more he strung me along, the stronger I would become, thus making me a worthy opponent.  I wasn't the only one rising to the challenge, though.  Or should I say, out for blood.  Pardon the pun.  Ryoga, Shampoo, and my mom Nodoka also became chess pieces on the board, even though it all began with me.
    My hatred only grew from that point on.  Every time I took another vampire's life, I knew that I was just one more step closer to that bastard. Every time that I think on it, I lose my train of thought, and I have to hit something.  The dojo has seen many new repairs in the last few months since I came back.  Mom and Ryoga try to help me cope with the pain, but it makes it worse.  Seeing them together only makes me think of my own solitary life, but here I am jumping ahead of myself.  Why I do it?  I have no idea.  I guess I just want to go ahead and get it out in the open.
    Kasumi still tends to the household, and Nabiki, for better or worse, still seems to keep up with her usual business of mooching off of others.  It's funny how at ease she is with her curse, but not as scary as Kasumi was when she became cursed.  That song still rings in my ears from that night, driving through the American city of New Orleans, hunting down the bloodsuckers.  Nothing is as frightening as Kasumi singing Monty Python, not even Lestat.  Well, sorta.
    Now where was I?  Oh yes, another thing.  You'll be amazed when you find who actually funded the whole quest too� then again, maybe not.  One thing is sure, the nightmare had only begun there.  We were led on a chase between continents around the world, Lestat throwing clues to his whereabouts at every turn.  But I wouldn't be shaken loose.  Lestat would pay for what he did to me.  He would burn, I swore that on the night he took her away from me�

Written by: Jonathan Halloway and Greg Housley�

Well how'd you like..? We are real interested in responses here! We know there isn't much here but we wanna know if we've piqued your interest! This is only the very short beginning to chapter one and we're anxious to get started on the rest! However if we get flamed� Well let's just say we burn easily, so keep the comments constructive, please! And provided the responses are good we will probably continue this!!!

"Life is just like a fantasy, giving you all that your heart desires, but then, all of a sudden, reality kicks back in and your ass has the footprint." -Ranma Saotome, "Chronicles of the Immortal"

Bleah�

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