The path of Life - Prologue		By: Matdeception.

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Disclaimer: Ranma ½ belongs to Rumio Takahashi - Gold Diggers belongs to
Fred Perry - I did not create this story to profit from their hard
works, rather to pay homage.

Author's Chapter Notes: This chapter deals with Ranma ½ and RM only.
Next chapter will introduce some of the Gold Diggers cast. I'm trying
for semi-dark, eventually leading up into 'lighter' moments, and then to
drop back down to angst and shiznats for this fic. Any questions you
feel are worth my attention; please send the email to
narkanarka@hotmail.com. For my other works, please visit
www.Matdeception.9cy.com - This is my website, my very first btw, so
don't expect anything flashy. Enjoy!

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Kyoto outskirts.

A scream in the night, a plea for help, a desire for release. This is
just the beginning

"Please pop! I'm begging yah! No more.. please.. it hurts!" cried a
feeble voice of a boy, its tone laced with undisguised pain and fear.
The boy's fearful eyes darting to and fro over the pit, He could not
flee, for his father held him in the air by his neck, nearly choking
him. Being held aloft over a pit by your neck isn't the best way to
breath, not if you want to stay alive.

Despite the boy's earnest cries for help, it all came in vain. For it
appeared nothing would come to stop the pain, the torturous pain he
could feel enveloping his mind and soul bit by agonizing bit.
"P-p-please pop, please.." Nothing could stop his father; his pleas
would fall on deaf ears.

A condescending sneer answered the boy's plea; "Are you a man, or a
little girl?" cried the harsh and rather gruff voice in retort. The
tones, inflections, and the way the man shook the boy by his neck
pointed to an ultimately cruel and callous man, who continued the horrid
torture upon his own son.

The man's voice raised in anger as he continued his tirade "Were not
going ANYWHERE until you learn this god damn technique! Stop your bloody
fucking blubbering!" so said as he smacked the small boy upside of the
head.. with a fist.

This served too push the little boy once again into the deep recesses of
the dark pit below. Without so much as a 'Good luck son, I know you can
do this', or even a 'This is for your own good boy!', the man slammed
the wooden hatch over the make shift pit, locking it quickly with a
sturdy steel 'Master' work lock. He probably didn't even realize he just
gave his son a concussion with the force of his blow.

With a snort of disgust, he callously spoke his mind as he began his
trek back to camp, in search of that blissful oblivion only a contented
night sleep could bring. " Hopefully this will kill the cry baby."

*****

Darkness. Cold, oppressive, and comforting. That's all the boy, whose
name was Saotome Ranma, could see, and for this he was thankful.

No more.

He didn't want to see it anymore. What's the point? Why should he be
forced to watch as the cats, starved into their frenzy, sliced into his
young and unresisting body, why should he watch as the red ichors of his
life slowly flowed away? At first it had scared him, but now, within the
darkness of his own mind, it all seemed numb. Shouldn't he be concerned
that his life, at least from his view, was about to end?

Indeed, Ranma was thankful for the Darkness, allowing him to cast away
his previous thought. If he can't see it, it doesn't matter. He was
thankful he no longer had to see their many insane and maniacal eyes,
their vicious attack upon his person. There is just some things no one,
not man child or beast, should have to watch.

Nonetheless, despite not being able to see the horrible creatures, the
boy couldn't contain his never ending shrieks of pain, of fear, and of a
growing rage against the man, his father, for forcing this upon him.
Pain, that's all his world was now. Not that pain was a new thing for
this ten-year-old boy. Growing up on the road as he did, one is
constantly forced to experience the rigors of the open road. That pain
though, he had focused and tempered to become his strength, his shield
against the world that seemed to forever seek him harm. However, that
was only strength of the body, and as such could offer him no more
protection than a wisp of smoke against this current nightmare. This
pain was more of the mind, and this the boy was soulfully unprepared
for, he could literally feel the 'claws' of the feline demons stripping
away at his mind, destroying his very sanity with the passing seconds.

Through the torment, through the ungodly and unrelenting pain, the boy
managed to call out for "HELLLP!". He screamed this, over and over
again, despairing as no one came to answer his plea, his plea to release
him from this prison, in the end his voice became hoarse and useless
with the effort. He couldn't help but ask himself 'Why was his father
doing this to him? Why did he force his own son through such torment?'
Over the days and repeated training sessions, Ranma had asked himself
these two questions over and over again, yet until now he had no answer.
It came to him on the brink of unconsciousness, an epiphany,
understanding why his bastard father would do this to him.

His father considered him ultimately a worthless child, for he had said
this many times before. His own inability to learn this ultimate
technique provided further proof to his father's claims. With
realization, came tears, for with this admission he lost the will power
to continue on. One by one, his mental faculties began shutting down as
he willed his own death. Ranma no longer wanted to live; he wanted a
final escape from this place, from this pain. He just didn't care
anymore, just didn't care about ever seeing his mother again, didn't
care for anything except release. His very will to live had finally been
sapped away, and he'd be damned before he would let it return.

*****

Jonathan Richardson, born and raised in the good Ole United States of
America, had been in the midst of another geological survey, which
involved exploration and cataloging of the different species of the
tree's remaining in the last few natural forests within Japan. He had
just finished taking pictures of the area when a shrill cry weakly
pierced the surrounding canopy.

The man paused momentarily, listening intently as he set his camera back
in its traveling case, pondering if that strange cry would repeat
itself, or if his imagination was running wild with him again.

Silence. A disturbing silence. Not even so much as a chirp from one of
the various night creatures that live in the forest. Odd.. and strangely
unsettling.

When no repeat cry sounded, Jonathan decided it had been his imagination
all along, so he hesitantly returned to his work, idly noting his wife,
Marilynn, was approaching softly, oddly subdued in pace, from behind.
His wife was a beautiful creature at the young age of twenty-seven. With
long brown slightly curled hair cascading gently down the arch of her
back, milky smooth skin glistening softly with perspiration in the soft
moon light, stunning indeed. By no means was she a model of any caliber,
not possessing the natural physical appearance or endowments, she still
managed to look stunning in her light brown khaki shorts, joined by a
black as pitch short sleeved tank top.

Turning slowly, so as not to appear eager to bask in her presence, his
light green eyes tracing subtly over her form, marveling at her lithe
grace as she moved slowly towards him.

"Hey Mari, you finished Cataloging the west side of the forest?" he
asked, breaking the ice.

"Yes dear." She answered in that familiar singsong voice, only there was
something different. Something foreign to her normally upbeat and lively
voice. Fear? Yes, now that he thought about it, there was an
undercurrent of fear in her voice. What could be causing that type of
reaction?

In answer to his speculations, that earlier disregarded cry for help
rent the air in renewed vigor, that being all Jonathan needed to jump
into action. As he began his run he shouted back to his wife, "Call for
help Mari!"

With that his search began in earnest for the meek voice, to which
Jonathan couldn't help but flinch at the tones of pain and horror that
seemingly timid voice could express through his screams for help.
Jonathan didn't think he would like what he found at the end of the
voice. Wouldn't you know he was right?

*****

Tree's filtered by in an unrecognizable blue as he dashed through the
foliage, hardly taking the time to stop and witness the natural beauty
the area had to offer. In fact, during his made dash, Jonathan had only
stopped twice, with each time increasing that gnawing fear in his heart
to a new level as he waited desperately for that voice to sound again.
Once the voice screamed again in renewed pain, he to would renew his mad
dash, noting in relief each time how much closer he was getting to the
sound. Closer and closer he came, that gnawing fear growing, while a
sliver of hope sneaking its way in, hope that he would arrive in time to
help.

Emerging through a line of trees into a clearing, Jonathan took a moment
to scan himself before reasserting his attention to the matter at hand,
His search for the owner of the voice.

Jonathan looked extremely bedraggled, which wasn't so much a surprise
considering how fast and furious he had gone through the forest. He
didn't care either, his worry for the voice drowning out all else, so he
hardly hat time to worry about the hazards of his actions, such as stray
branches, thorn bushes and the like. Small miniscule gouts of blood
flowed slowly down his arms and legs, wounds acquired from the earlier
mentioned hazards.

Jonathan groaned mentally, cursing himself a fool for forgetting to wear
more protective clothing, still he preserved and continued with his
search.

With no more trees and other obstructions impeding his path, Jonathan
finally heard the agonizing scream in its totality. He zoned in on the
target, skidding to a halt just inches
Away from a five foot wide, three foot long wooden hatch in the ground.
Tentatively calling out, Jonathan hoped against hope he wasn't to late.
"Is anyone in there? I'm here to help! Just tell me you're alright."

Of course he's not all right you BAKA, Jonathan chided himself mentally.
Not taking the time to wait for an answer, Jonathan ignored the lock and
gritted his teeth, his hands finding purchase as he wrenched the entire
hatch out of the ground through sheer adrenaline, determination, and not
just a little bit of fear for the poor soul stuck within.

What he found stilled him. What he found filled him with dread. What he
witnessed filled him with no small amount of anger. What he saw forced
him to turn and vomit uncontrollably. Poor soul indeed.

*****

Light, the terrible obtrusive light banished the cool and gentle
darkness bit by bit. Ranma, through his pain and misery, could feel it
invading his gentle retreat, fighting back the darkness of oblivion
through its unrelenting luminosity. His mind reeled from what he knew
would this intrusion. His bastard father would once again admonish him
for his apparent failure; once again he would throw him back into this
pit of hell. Ranma finally admitted to himself that his father would do
it with out preamble, because deep down it was revealed that Genma
wanted him to die.

So you see, it came as quite a shocking surprise then, when a pair of
slender, soft, and comforting arms engulfed him.

Tenderness.

Now an alien experience for the young boy. Words were spoken, but he
could barely discern their intent, lost as he was within his near
madness. A subtle feeling seemed to echo through those indiscernible
words. Encouragement? Sorrow? His mind simply couldn't take the strain,
so he thus fell into blissful unawareness.

Monsters can't get you while your asleep... right?

*****

Those soft and comforting arms belong to Marilynn Richardson, who was
frantic and lucid at what she beheld. She simply didn't care for her
favorite black cotton tank top, which was now drenched in blood, the
wounded child in her arms was far more important than apiece of cloth..

"Jon! Help me get him out of here! We have to get him to a hospital!"
Marilynn cried out to her husband, forcing down her sudden desire to
break down and weep for the poor boy cradled in her arms as he cried out
in his dreams. "m.ons..ters.."

Monster indeed. Just who would do this to their child?

*****

Jonathan recovered quickly at the sound of his distressed wife; his body
on autopilot as he climbed down the pit, there by joining his wife and
the subject of whatever demonic torture the boy had just gone through.
He ignored the horde of cats clawing at his legs; they were simply
unimportant at this moment. Being as gentle and careful as he could,
Jonathan hoisted the two up over the edge of the pit, then quickly
scampered up himself just as Mari staggered to her feet with the child
in her arms, oddly displaying a strength he had never known her to
possess. Jonathan eventually chalked it up to 'Motherly' instinct and
her drive to protect the boy from whatever hellspawn that had instigated
this unholy event. Not that he was an overly religious man, but seeing
that pit, the splattered blood, and rotting feces of numerous cats
scared him fierce.

"Are the paramedics and officials on the way?" he forced himself to ask
between pants as the two ran, neither showing care or concern for their
personal health as they continuously crashed through the dense foliage.

"Its been nearly fifteen minutes since I called them, they should be
here already.." and in a very low voice, a whisper really, she muttered
to herself " they better damn well be here."

*****

Hyato Chiba, including his partner Kasuki Sanada, was surprised when a
call for help went out. Not that it was surprising in and of itself,
being one of the few Emergency Response teams in the area, it's the
location that surprised them. As far as they knew, no one save for a
pair of traveling American Gaijin scientists were in the area. Imagine
his surprise when they filed a report claiming to have located a hurt
child in the nearby woods. For their sakes, this had better not be a
fluke call. The Japanese, as well as most other people in the world,
revere children. They were our future after all.

"How much longer Sanada?" Hyato asked, showing his general mood as he
snapped out his question irritably. Sanada was a good kid, usually.
Still green when it comes to the more gruesome scenes, he easily shows
his excitement, fear, dread, and worry about whatever situation they
come across. Hyato made a mental note to beat that out of him. As a
paramedic, they needed to come off as comforting, yet show nothing else
that could cause a panic among those injured.

"Minute or two sir, the caller gave extremely good directions to our
destination. Sit back and relax, I'll get us there in time." He cockily
replied.

Hyato raised an eyebrow at that. Yes, he would definitely need to beat
that attitude out of him. Deciding that now was not the time, nor the
place to rebuke him, Hyato leaned back and began mentally reviewing all
the information they were given, as well as possibly procedures they
would need to perform. A child, possibly between the ages of eight and
twelve, had been found and assumed wounded, at least if the cries of
pain were any guess. Possible afflictions, aside from his raw voice,
which was due to the hours of screaming, were determined as a broken
limb, possible head trauma, or, and he prayed it wasn't, internal
bleeding. If it was, they might not make it in time.

The sound of screeching tires on pavement announced their arrival,
Sanada of course had to observe the obvious. "Were here." Definitely
need to beat that kid, Hyato mentally mused as he jumped out his door,
idly noting to himself as he grabbed his paramedic kit from the back
that Sanada had frozen and let off a gasp in surprise at what was before
them. Now that was strange. Sanada, even though he was new, had seen
brutally mangled bodies before; hell he's had to help scrape a few of
them off asphalt. So what could cause him to gasp like that? Curious as
always, not to mention dreading what he might find, Hyato turned and
spied what can only be described as 'Nightmare made Form.'

A boy, with long mangy blood soaked hair tied into a pigtail, was
clenched tightly to the female, who was literally soaked in dried blood.
Hopefully it wasn't the boy's. Upon closer inspection, the child was
covered from head to toe in his own blood, with small cuts still flowing
openly from his exposed legs, arms, and chest. He looked like he fought
against Edward Scissorhands himself, fought and lost. During this, Hyato
managed to yell back at the pale looking Sanada, "Get some air support
in here!'

Whatever happened to this child, it looked like he was lucky to just be
alive. Who could.. no, who WOULD do such a thing?

*****

People could speculate that Karma did it. Others would say it happened
due to an allergic reaction to the dust and pollen in the air. Some
might even say the man sensed what was happening, and thus awoke under
his own power, or some such nonsense. However it happened doesn't
particularly matter, all that does matter is it did. What exactly? Genma
sneezed.

Bolting awake, Genma's pudgy pig like eyes began an immediate scan of
his surroundings, cataloging and taking note of anything and everything
in his general vicinity. Instantly he could tell something was wrong,
dreadfully wrong if the knots in his stomach were any indicator..

Quickly alighting to his feet, Genma began his trek towards the pit of
cats. Bounding as he was, he managed to move quickly and without nary a
sound, this would allow for surprise, if he needed such. As he moved
quickly, he reviewed the possibilities of what could have gone wrong,
and yet he couldn't stop a sliver of hope to slip into his mental
ramblings.

'Is the boy finally dead? Can I finally go home? Or did he master the
Neko-Ken? Nothing is missing from the camp, so the only thing I can even
think might have gone wrong has to deal with the little shit." He
groaned out mentally as he neared his destination.

As he neared the pit, Genma took notice of the hatch, now laying a good
twenty feet away from here it should have been. Upon closer inspection,
he revealed that it had been torn of his hinges, miniscule blotches of
blood covering its underside. Prolly the boy's, Genma reasoned. A
horrible thought crossed his mind at that moment, to which he couldn't
help but reply with

"Oh shit." He choked out, his voice failing to hide no small amount of
fear. His bulbous eyes began scanning the clearing in earnest, hoping
against hope he was wrong. 'If the little puke mastered the Neko-Ken, I
could be in serious trouble'. Time, moments really, passed with no angry
bastard sons attacking, Genma noted while subconsciously letting that
breath he didn't even realize he was holding out. 'Where is the boy?'

Finally, Genma recovered enough of his courage to track the boy. Simple
really, all he had to do was follow the small and miniscule pools of
blood, to which Genma noted they headed off into the forest. Genma took
off at a dead run, his training, though slacking of late, allowed him to
follow the path left by Jonathan and Marilynn, who took no time to cover
said tracks, all the way back to their clearing. Ducking low behind some
bushes, he peered through the foliage just in time to see his worthless
excuse for a son being loaded up and into the helicopter, which then
took off in earnest. 'Kyoto General Hospital' he mentally repeated in
his mind, like a mantra, as he read the markings on the side of the
chopper.

Deciding it best to avoid detection, he retreated back into the forest,
his cruel mind already plotting his course of action. Genma had to get
the boy back, back before they found his mother and let the little shit
tell her everything. 'No.' Genma swore to himself. He wouldn't let that
stain upon his life to screw it up even more.

Genma's passing went unnoticed. His form disappearing into the shadows,
his passing nothing more than a wisp on the wind. They never did find
him in the forest that night.

*****

"...actured elbow, numerous cuts and lacerations found over the patients
body, not to mention a mild concussion. Seems he had to be transferred
from Kyoto general to Tokyo for his MIR and CAT scans. Has the patient
regained consciousness yet Dr. Hiso?" Mature voices, Ranma inwardly
noted. Just where in heck was he? Last thing he remembered was the pit..

"I'm afraid not. The paramedics on site reported he was literally being
tortured, both physically and mentally. I have not a single clue just
for how long he's been out there, but if his malnutrition is of any
indication, it's been a long, long time."

"Well, Doctor, what do you suggest we do? Information concerning his MRI
and CAT scan show his mind is still active, if a bit scarred from his
recent .. ah.. Experiences."

A derisive snort sounded from one of the men. To bad Ranma couldn't
understand half of what they were talking about, but figured he should
continue to listen in. Outwardly he didn't give so much as an iota of
evidence that he was indeed awake. "What parents Doctor? There was no
identification found on scene, DNA testing hasn't come in yet, and the
Police have informed me his fingerprints don't match any in their
database. Which means a missing persons report hasn't been filed, which
leads me to believe his Parents were the ones who did this to their boy.
Certainly, the time it takes for such damage to be done would have given
them enough time to file such a report. If indeed his father and, or
mother were responsible for this atrocity.. I hate to think of what
would happen. Both to them, and the mind of this boy."

The other, as of yet unnamed doctor nodded solemnly, "I would hate to
think the repercussions of such a betrayal would do to the boy."

He had a Mother? Ranma asked inwardly, outwardly beginning to cry,
alerting those nearest to him of his revival. None could miss the soul
wrenching sobs, or the audible cries for a mother who would not come.
Dr. Hiso motioned for his associate to leave the room, taking his time
to pull a chair to the bed, on Ranma's right side. Sliding into his
chair, Hiso tentatively reached a hand out, placing it gently on the
boy's shoulder. Ranma flinched from the contact, curling up in his
sheets into a fetal position while Hiso asked, "How are you feeling?" As
if the tears weren't enough.

The boy refused to answer the question, or more like he didn't hear it
amidst his anguish. He simply lay there, showing little life aside from
his sobs, yet making no other effort to respond to his environment.
After an hour of questions, to which Hiso received no answers, the
Doctor finally left the room, idly wondering what must be going through
the young boy's mind.

Within the mind of Saotome Ranma, was a boy swearing an oath so
profound, it would have ever lasting effects upon his life. 'Father
hates me. I know it. I was a fool to think he loved me.' Moments passed
in silence as he contemplated his predicament, 'He's going to come and
try to steal me back, to hurt me again..unless I hurt him first.. Yes..
hurt him first.' With that sworn, the boy allowed exhaustion, both
physical and mental, to over come him, taking him to a dreamless
slumber, oblivious to the cruel fate he would have to endure from such
an oath.