past destruction, future rebirth chp 5
Posted: Tue Apr 05, 2005 5:37 pm
Past Destruction, Future Rebirth
By Valkyrie skye
Act 1: El Soldado Eternal: Heero Yuy story
Chapter 5: In the arms of the machine
November 4 AC 188
ESC1019 colony cluster of L1
7:45 PM
Even after being inside his work office for one hour the boy still felt wet through the clothes. It was raining when he arrived from L3 with old man and the rain here was heavy and pouring when they went to the office. The boy still sat across his desk, and the old man hasn?t returned for a long while. He looked all around. There wasn?t much to it, an oak work desk with papers scattered around it, a computer on top, humming with life. There were a few filing cabinets and a tired old green couch in the corner of the room but that was about it.
He tried not to think about him. He tried not to think about him for a long time. In his little heart, a dark void opened wider for every memory conjured up of him. Of how the sound of his voice was when he talked about anything from shooting a target to cartoons. Or the look of pain in his butcher blue eyes as he slowly stopped breathing and died before him.
The boy looked at his own hands inside the old man?s office. They were small but experienced hands. They have done many things that a normal 8-year-old boy would even dare of doing. He could tell you, if you cared to know such a thing, how the feeling of a warm metal trigger feels under your index finger when compared to the cold feeling of killing someone. He could tell you how the feeling of a corpse feels like and thinking of that, the boy was brought back to that day. It something he said that prompt the boy to do it.
It was a while ago. They past by a residential area and the owner?s garden had flourishing roses so deep and red, one would think it was freshly painted with thick coat of blood. The boy looked at it and heard the monotone voice of his Guardian behind him
?They?re interesting, aren?t they??
?I suppose? for flowers.?
He walked up to one, and with grace he placed his rough index and middle fingers on the curves of the flower and thoughtfully looked at it ? they?re more than that. In another time, Germanic tribes thought of the roses as symbols.?
The boy?s look never changed ?And??
?Don?t you see the importance of that?? The boy shook his head, and Odin continued with a smile, ?I forget. You?re still young and more liable to be ignorant. First off, symbols are important. They?re very powerful. If anything, they mean power. Proof of this is that long ago, the Germanic tribes, people who fought and faced death over and over in their lives, believed that if the blood-red roses flowered over the grave markers of their fallen comrades, then their souls have transcended and went on to the next life. That?s powerful stuff for flowers.?
That was then and here in this office was now. Now, when the boy was thinking about what he did that day after his passing. When he came back after the chaos was cleared and saw the corpse of what was once Odin Lowe. The bullet hole in his chest a dark and grimy color of red. His eyes were closed and he lay there as if through the chaos, he found the time to take a nap. The boy just stood and stares. He had seen dead bodies but not one that was so close to him. Thinking of the man's words, he dragged his corpse and buried it in the hopes that what he said long ago was true. He felt something in his heart that went out and suddenly he felt that the day of his own death was soon to come. It was only just a matter of time.
And indeed, time did pass. It was until a couple of months later that he found the old man in the streets of X18999. He saw him sitting on the ground looking more like a beggar when he first saw him. He asked if the boy wanted to pilot a ?Gundam? to which he said sure. When he said that, the boy thought of Odin?s words. ?Live according to your emotions. That?s that only way to live.? And he did. The boy felt like piloting a Gundam, whatever that was.
A shuttle flight to L1 and hours later, the boy realized the mistake in that decision?
Hours later after the office.
He sprawled upon the grimy floors of the hanger, trying to get up, feeling every punch the men were giving him on the commands of the old man. He felt his mouth tearing apart giving forth fresh blood on his already bitten tongue. He wasn?t sure if there were three or four men as his vision was producing blurred images of the people in the hangar and his ears were ringing loudly in deafening volumes. When the final hit was given, a swift kick in the face, he fell onto the cold ground and saw the head of the half completed Gundam that, he was told, would have the honor of controlling in the future. The old man is talking as he stared at the emerald eyes of the machine and took its image into his own bloody blue eyes before consigning to his own oblivion.
Living his life on his emotion gotten him into this position.
Piloting Wing would be the only decision he will ever make based on his emotions.
The boy swore it.
Hours prior to this, in the old man?s office?
The boy turned towards the sound of the opening door. Coming out was the old man. He held a walking stick with his mechanical arm that, according to the old man, was fashioned by himself. His slanted eyes were held behind a pair of spectacles that seemed embedded in his face. His lips were dried as he fashion it into a smile and beamed at the young seated boy. ?Why hello again. I?m sorry for the long wait. I was briefing my team about you. We?ll meet them all in due time. Meanwhile, why don?t you do me a little favor??
The boy nodded ?What??
He walked towards a filing cabinet and took out a blank sheet of paper and placed it in front of the boy with a pencil ?What I want you to do is to draw me a little picture. The theme is what do you want to be in life? It could be anything, superhero, fireman, anything. I?ll be back in a hour or so to see if you finished, is that alright??
?Yes. That?s fine.?
He nodded and left the boy alone again.
*~*~*~*
An hour later, the old man came back again, the click of his walking stick clearly heard from the outside. The boy looked up it his presence by the doorway ?well, how?s the picture going? Are you finished??
The boy nodded.
?Splendid. Lets see.? The boy handed the sheet to the old man to which he looked and nodded thoughtfully.
In the pencil image, he drew a crude image of himself lying backside down with a pool of what looks like blood. ?Hmm? interesting image. Suicidal, aren?t we??
The boy shrugged ?Life is cheap.?
?And yours??
His voice grew into a whisper, ?Especially mine?
The old man?s lips grew into a smile ?You know? I think you?d make one hell of a pilot.? He stuck out his metallic hand towards him ?come. Allow me to give you a tour of the site.?
The boy slipped his small hand into the mechanical arm to which it wrapped tightly on his hand quicker than his eyes could catch it. He couldn?t help but to flinch, as the cold metal was pressed hard against his flesh. He looked up at the old man who was grinning, ?I?m sorry. Sometimes this old thing could grip tighter than an Anaconda. Shall we??
*~*~*~*
?Its Gundanium. It?s indestructible and making a weapon that is indestructible certainly gives us the leverage, don?t you think??
The boy didn?t really answer him. He just kept his eyes on the unfinished machine before his eyes. It was like a dismembered body strung up in chains and cords. At one part of the hanger was the arm; in the other was the cockpit. In this part was the head, a work in process. He sees one part of the face complete while the other was still being put together. He felt a strong grip on his shoulder and turn to look up at the old man. He was rather silent for a while before saying ?You know something? I never asked you for your name. All this talking about my little project and I never got your name. Well then, you can call me Dr. J. And for future reference, what is yours??
The boy looked at him ?I have no name.?
?No name? No family, no home and no name.? He chuckled, ?Now I definitely feel like you?re were made to pilot this thing. Well then. Allow me to give you a name.?
To Dr. J and everyone working with him, the boy was known as Pilot 01.
They both then walked to crates where they sat and talked about the capabilities this ?Wing? will have. It seemed to fill the boy with an unidentifiable sense of giddiness hearing the amount of arms this machine will bear; two Vulcan guns, two Machine cannons, a beam sword, and a Buster rifle from which Pilot 01 understood that it could take out multiple Mobile suits in just one shot. This sense of new power being bestowed upon him was, in a way, terrifying but enthralling at the same time answering to his darkest dreams of being ?on edge? against the world. This would probably make others (whoever they would be) to think twice before fucking with him, the 8-year-old figured.
After some tea and a bit to eat, they both stood up. Dr. J and Pilot 01 walked towards the part of the hangar where the head of Wing was being constructed. He looked up thoughtfully at the machine and then back to the young pilot. He then motioned a couple of men towards them and began to speak, ?Now that you understand what goes on here and what I?m asking of you, do you still wish to follow through. This is the last time I ask you this because once we agree, you can never go back on your word. Do you want to pilot a Gundam??
The boy stood silent taking his words in before answering, ?I said ?sure? didn?t I??
Dr. J grinned ?Good boy. Gentlemen, you may begin.?
Now he didn?t know exactly who did it first, but he was aware that someone from the group gave him a rapid uppercut to his jaw. The force of it made him fell back to the cold hard floor with a loud thud. He struggled to get up which he succeeded in doing until another punched him in the gut. He felt himself being pushed around receiving physical punishment from each man. All the while, Dr. J looked on and spoke through the young pilot?s abuse ?You see my boy, what we are trying to do it simple??
A punch to his sides?
?I cannot have just anyone piloting this thing??
A punch to the side of the face?
?No, I need someone who can kill without regret??
A punch to the right eye?
?Who can do what I order to do without question??
A kick to the ribs?
?What I intend on making is another machine. A perfect solider??
And finally after receiving that kick in the face, Pilot 01 went down. Dr. J walked over to him, that telltale sound of his walking stick signified his presence closer to the boy ?I swear to you my boy. I intend to empty you of the unnecessary emotions and fill you with hate and war and death. I will squeeze that heart of yours and fill it in with myself. You?ll have no need to love or feel desire because that only thing you?ll ever need is your own death. You can take my word for it.?
In the silence, Dr. J felt the Pilot?s pulse. Still beating, but faintly he went to the group of men, ?Call the medical group and take him to sick bay. I want them to monitor his healing process. When he?s healed and fed and washed, start this process all over again.?
And with that, Dr. J walked off leaving the battered, bloody body of Pilot 01 to the group.
It was through the acts of love that created the boy. And it will be through the acts of hate that?ll create 01.
To be continued
By Valkyrie skye
Act 1: El Soldado Eternal: Heero Yuy story
Chapter 5: In the arms of the machine
November 4 AC 188
ESC1019 colony cluster of L1
7:45 PM
Even after being inside his work office for one hour the boy still felt wet through the clothes. It was raining when he arrived from L3 with old man and the rain here was heavy and pouring when they went to the office. The boy still sat across his desk, and the old man hasn?t returned for a long while. He looked all around. There wasn?t much to it, an oak work desk with papers scattered around it, a computer on top, humming with life. There were a few filing cabinets and a tired old green couch in the corner of the room but that was about it.
He tried not to think about him. He tried not to think about him for a long time. In his little heart, a dark void opened wider for every memory conjured up of him. Of how the sound of his voice was when he talked about anything from shooting a target to cartoons. Or the look of pain in his butcher blue eyes as he slowly stopped breathing and died before him.
The boy looked at his own hands inside the old man?s office. They were small but experienced hands. They have done many things that a normal 8-year-old boy would even dare of doing. He could tell you, if you cared to know such a thing, how the feeling of a warm metal trigger feels under your index finger when compared to the cold feeling of killing someone. He could tell you how the feeling of a corpse feels like and thinking of that, the boy was brought back to that day. It something he said that prompt the boy to do it.
It was a while ago. They past by a residential area and the owner?s garden had flourishing roses so deep and red, one would think it was freshly painted with thick coat of blood. The boy looked at it and heard the monotone voice of his Guardian behind him
?They?re interesting, aren?t they??
?I suppose? for flowers.?
He walked up to one, and with grace he placed his rough index and middle fingers on the curves of the flower and thoughtfully looked at it ? they?re more than that. In another time, Germanic tribes thought of the roses as symbols.?
The boy?s look never changed ?And??
?Don?t you see the importance of that?? The boy shook his head, and Odin continued with a smile, ?I forget. You?re still young and more liable to be ignorant. First off, symbols are important. They?re very powerful. If anything, they mean power. Proof of this is that long ago, the Germanic tribes, people who fought and faced death over and over in their lives, believed that if the blood-red roses flowered over the grave markers of their fallen comrades, then their souls have transcended and went on to the next life. That?s powerful stuff for flowers.?
That was then and here in this office was now. Now, when the boy was thinking about what he did that day after his passing. When he came back after the chaos was cleared and saw the corpse of what was once Odin Lowe. The bullet hole in his chest a dark and grimy color of red. His eyes were closed and he lay there as if through the chaos, he found the time to take a nap. The boy just stood and stares. He had seen dead bodies but not one that was so close to him. Thinking of the man's words, he dragged his corpse and buried it in the hopes that what he said long ago was true. He felt something in his heart that went out and suddenly he felt that the day of his own death was soon to come. It was only just a matter of time.
And indeed, time did pass. It was until a couple of months later that he found the old man in the streets of X18999. He saw him sitting on the ground looking more like a beggar when he first saw him. He asked if the boy wanted to pilot a ?Gundam? to which he said sure. When he said that, the boy thought of Odin?s words. ?Live according to your emotions. That?s that only way to live.? And he did. The boy felt like piloting a Gundam, whatever that was.
A shuttle flight to L1 and hours later, the boy realized the mistake in that decision?
Hours later after the office.
He sprawled upon the grimy floors of the hanger, trying to get up, feeling every punch the men were giving him on the commands of the old man. He felt his mouth tearing apart giving forth fresh blood on his already bitten tongue. He wasn?t sure if there were three or four men as his vision was producing blurred images of the people in the hangar and his ears were ringing loudly in deafening volumes. When the final hit was given, a swift kick in the face, he fell onto the cold ground and saw the head of the half completed Gundam that, he was told, would have the honor of controlling in the future. The old man is talking as he stared at the emerald eyes of the machine and took its image into his own bloody blue eyes before consigning to his own oblivion.
Living his life on his emotion gotten him into this position.
Piloting Wing would be the only decision he will ever make based on his emotions.
The boy swore it.
Hours prior to this, in the old man?s office?
The boy turned towards the sound of the opening door. Coming out was the old man. He held a walking stick with his mechanical arm that, according to the old man, was fashioned by himself. His slanted eyes were held behind a pair of spectacles that seemed embedded in his face. His lips were dried as he fashion it into a smile and beamed at the young seated boy. ?Why hello again. I?m sorry for the long wait. I was briefing my team about you. We?ll meet them all in due time. Meanwhile, why don?t you do me a little favor??
The boy nodded ?What??
He walked towards a filing cabinet and took out a blank sheet of paper and placed it in front of the boy with a pencil ?What I want you to do is to draw me a little picture. The theme is what do you want to be in life? It could be anything, superhero, fireman, anything. I?ll be back in a hour or so to see if you finished, is that alright??
?Yes. That?s fine.?
He nodded and left the boy alone again.
*~*~*~*
An hour later, the old man came back again, the click of his walking stick clearly heard from the outside. The boy looked up it his presence by the doorway ?well, how?s the picture going? Are you finished??
The boy nodded.
?Splendid. Lets see.? The boy handed the sheet to the old man to which he looked and nodded thoughtfully.
In the pencil image, he drew a crude image of himself lying backside down with a pool of what looks like blood. ?Hmm? interesting image. Suicidal, aren?t we??
The boy shrugged ?Life is cheap.?
?And yours??
His voice grew into a whisper, ?Especially mine?
The old man?s lips grew into a smile ?You know? I think you?d make one hell of a pilot.? He stuck out his metallic hand towards him ?come. Allow me to give you a tour of the site.?
The boy slipped his small hand into the mechanical arm to which it wrapped tightly on his hand quicker than his eyes could catch it. He couldn?t help but to flinch, as the cold metal was pressed hard against his flesh. He looked up at the old man who was grinning, ?I?m sorry. Sometimes this old thing could grip tighter than an Anaconda. Shall we??
*~*~*~*
?Its Gundanium. It?s indestructible and making a weapon that is indestructible certainly gives us the leverage, don?t you think??
The boy didn?t really answer him. He just kept his eyes on the unfinished machine before his eyes. It was like a dismembered body strung up in chains and cords. At one part of the hanger was the arm; in the other was the cockpit. In this part was the head, a work in process. He sees one part of the face complete while the other was still being put together. He felt a strong grip on his shoulder and turn to look up at the old man. He was rather silent for a while before saying ?You know something? I never asked you for your name. All this talking about my little project and I never got your name. Well then, you can call me Dr. J. And for future reference, what is yours??
The boy looked at him ?I have no name.?
?No name? No family, no home and no name.? He chuckled, ?Now I definitely feel like you?re were made to pilot this thing. Well then. Allow me to give you a name.?
To Dr. J and everyone working with him, the boy was known as Pilot 01.
They both then walked to crates where they sat and talked about the capabilities this ?Wing? will have. It seemed to fill the boy with an unidentifiable sense of giddiness hearing the amount of arms this machine will bear; two Vulcan guns, two Machine cannons, a beam sword, and a Buster rifle from which Pilot 01 understood that it could take out multiple Mobile suits in just one shot. This sense of new power being bestowed upon him was, in a way, terrifying but enthralling at the same time answering to his darkest dreams of being ?on edge? against the world. This would probably make others (whoever they would be) to think twice before fucking with him, the 8-year-old figured.
After some tea and a bit to eat, they both stood up. Dr. J and Pilot 01 walked towards the part of the hangar where the head of Wing was being constructed. He looked up thoughtfully at the machine and then back to the young pilot. He then motioned a couple of men towards them and began to speak, ?Now that you understand what goes on here and what I?m asking of you, do you still wish to follow through. This is the last time I ask you this because once we agree, you can never go back on your word. Do you want to pilot a Gundam??
The boy stood silent taking his words in before answering, ?I said ?sure? didn?t I??
Dr. J grinned ?Good boy. Gentlemen, you may begin.?
Now he didn?t know exactly who did it first, but he was aware that someone from the group gave him a rapid uppercut to his jaw. The force of it made him fell back to the cold hard floor with a loud thud. He struggled to get up which he succeeded in doing until another punched him in the gut. He felt himself being pushed around receiving physical punishment from each man. All the while, Dr. J looked on and spoke through the young pilot?s abuse ?You see my boy, what we are trying to do it simple??
A punch to his sides?
?I cannot have just anyone piloting this thing??
A punch to the side of the face?
?No, I need someone who can kill without regret??
A punch to the right eye?
?Who can do what I order to do without question??
A kick to the ribs?
?What I intend on making is another machine. A perfect solider??
And finally after receiving that kick in the face, Pilot 01 went down. Dr. J walked over to him, that telltale sound of his walking stick signified his presence closer to the boy ?I swear to you my boy. I intend to empty you of the unnecessary emotions and fill you with hate and war and death. I will squeeze that heart of yours and fill it in with myself. You?ll have no need to love or feel desire because that only thing you?ll ever need is your own death. You can take my word for it.?
In the silence, Dr. J felt the Pilot?s pulse. Still beating, but faintly he went to the group of men, ?Call the medical group and take him to sick bay. I want them to monitor his healing process. When he?s healed and fed and washed, start this process all over again.?
And with that, Dr. J walked off leaving the battered, bloody body of Pilot 01 to the group.
It was through the acts of love that created the boy. And it will be through the acts of hate that?ll create 01.
To be continued
