Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina
"…" – speech
'…' – thought
'…' – sub thought (internal conflict/ mental debates)
italics - sounds
The Reason I Cry
Beep .Beep .Beep .Beep. Beep
Keitaro gradually opened his eyes only to be greeted by a dark room. The familiar monotone beeping of the cardio-respiratory monitors that had kept him company, reminded him that he was still alive. How unfortunate.
He looked at the ceiling that he had come to know over the past two months. He looked down at his limbs, or at least what used to be. Now all that remained were butchered stubs of rotting flesh, namely galf his left thigh and nearly none of his right, with a little section of shin hanging by dead tendon.
His arms were in no better shape. All that was left were parts of his right forearm and the scorched remains of his left shoulder. There used to be a gaping hole in his side but that was patched up with something that had the same consistency to blast gel. No doubt by the men in white. Why they were keeping him alive was a mystery to him, it could be any number of reasons.
The most feasible reason was because he was still alive when they found him. A month ago they had started a series of tests; drawing blood samples, taking X-rays, scraping brain matter off of his skull. Oh, did I mention that the afore-mentioned cavity was currently ripped open and exposed to the open air? Funny how they opted to seal his chest rather than his head. I suppose as long as he wouldn't die it was convenient, sealing his chest would prevent, err, spillage. They had even gone so far as to take his seed.
He had long ago given up hope that he would be let go. In any case he would rather they just put him down. But this long two months had given him time to think. He thought about his life, his choices, his hopes, and his dreams. He had made many conclusions that had brought him as close as he was ever going to be to enlightenment.
He had felt everything other than contentment. He felt lonely, never sad, and refused to abolish any feelings of regret he had for anything in his life. Fortunately, he was too weak to end his life as it is imperative to the lot that he stay alive. Keitaro's thoughts were interrupted by the door to his room/cell was opened. There was a mammoth of a man, muscle bound and no doubt as stupid as he looked, in the doorway. He ducked through the narrow (for him) opening to let three men in hospital attire in with a gurney, all of which walked in at the same time. That should give you an idea of how big that man was.
The large man lifted Keitaro, one handed, and placed him onto the cold metal surface of the cart. The ice cold metal stung his back and send spikes of pain into his nerves. Keitaro bore no facial expression through the ordeal. One of the men unnecessarily forced apart his jaw rather roughly and shoved a handful of liquid capsules into his mouth. It was probably the only thing he used his taste buds for. It was the usual assortment of pain killers and vitamins, not to mention some depressants to slow his body's natural reflexes.
The cart made several sharp turns, wheeling through several hallways of grey concrete walls and baby blue lamps, walkways suspended in mid-air, hanging above large collection of capsules containing God knows what. They passed through steel blast doors several feet thick to be greeted by a flash of blinding light, pure white walls, and light emanating from the walls themselves. From there, the technicians handed him off to men in white scrubs and another guard, dressed completely white, smaller, but no doubt just as stupid, but the very large gun he was holding compensated for his lack of height…and brains. They pushed him into an operating room surrounded by one-way mirrors and a large machine in the center.
Though Keitaro had seen this room many times before, but it seemed different now. He noticed that they were prepped what looked like a long and complicated procedure. Advanced surgical tools and several remote surgeons were stationed around the room preparing scalpels, what looked like random pieces of machinery, and a collection of 24 oz. containers of light blue liquid that seemed to glow of their own accord in the brightly illuminated room.
They strapped Keitaro onto a larger metal slab in the center of the room. Several metal bracers locked him into place with a clear metallic snap. With a "shing", strong steel needles shot into his skin, cutting through skin, bone, and nerves and locking them into place. Any sudden movement threatened to shred what was left of his body.
Keitaro could not comprehend their speech in his state, but he understood that they had agreed to start the operation. They began by removing the cast and bandages around the stubs that were his arms and legs, and began to rip the dead and decaying flesh from them to bring out the nerves buried into his skin.
Then they began the attach the machinery to the stringy masses of muscle and assorted segments of flesh, using nano tech to graft it to the organic, albeit dead, cells and using biometrics to melt the flesh and bone into the organic living metal. They placed similar but different pieces of machinery into shrapnel induced holes which began a similar grafting process of their own.
They removed the blast jelly – like object from Keitaro's stomach which gave way to the pus-like substance that filled Keitaro's stomach and several insects as it seemed, and began to start a similar procedure. Several nurses and doctors prepared an I.V. drip composed of the bright blue liquid and positioned it above the gaping hole in his chest. They severed more sections of his stomach and let the fluid begin to drip into Keitaro.
The liquid if, if I recall correctly, was a pint of nano-tech. The small machines fused their own artificial bodies to red and white blood cells, copying their structure and function into their memory. Several more containers of the little pieces of technology were used to graft his organs into place and expand his natural muscles.
When all of it was said and done, the operation took approximately 5 days, and on several occasions, Keitaro fell out of his stupor and felt the extreme pain they were actually causing him, unnoticed due to his unresponsiveness until the nurses remembered to replace the intravenous drip which, might I add, they did quite sparingly. The machines formed rounded orbs in place of limbs, the leg pieces, much larger and longer than the arms. They then wheeled Keitaro into a different room. He had lost all concept of time, but it was long enough to know that it lasted a few days at the very least. It was completely white with a one way window, a large metal slab, several computers, and reclining chair with a small pad for a head rest. All in all, it was completely identical to the one before that, sans chair.
A.N. – For those who can't imagine what the chair would look like, it looks like one of the chairs in the matrix. You know the ones I'm talking about.
Several more of the men and women who performed the operation walked in and immediately began placing wiring into his skin, which split apart of its own accord (his skin). The symbiotic in his body machines formed small circles to accommodate the wires, a bit like wire jacks, no exactly like wire jacks. Several of the computers booted up and began to feed information into the machines which was relayed into Keitaro's brain by the nano tech.
On that day Keitaro was manufactured into the near perfect version of many soldiers like him. A personal army of no less than twenty, no more than fifty became available to the world. Mercenaries to be sold. Meat puppets with the know-how to protect their owner. Keitaro had just rendered forty nine obsolete. Keitaro's seed was used to create children. whereas approximately 100, 000 of which were genetically altered to inherit Keitaro's genes, specifically his regeneration… his near immortality. The rest were distributed among the wealthiest families around the world as what one might call, "insurance"; children with the inert ability to fight and protect whomever they were ordered to.
One of the devilishly handsome and debonair technicians grabbed an instrument from his pocket and a scalpel. He made a small incision in the top of Keitaro's skull and inserted the bit of machinery where it was pulled through the skull and into the brain. This was the end of the age of nuclear war. Now came something much worse, a war that combined the race to surpass one another in the field of science while constantly having to look over your shoulder. More often than not, when you did, you came face to face with the barrel of a gun, or the tip of a blade. But I seem to be getting ahead of myself, what happened of our dear idiot?
Over the course of the next month, Keitaro was continually injected with more and more nano tech which formed his parts more and more versatile objects, from shapeless blobs to tentacles, to finger-like appendages. Each progression came faster and faster till he had his hands back. Then the weapons came. Of course, Keitaro did not realize anything at the time he was in a drug induced coma, dreaming of Liddo-Kun, Hinata - Sou, and Weird, inexplicable role-playing games.
Programs were downloaded and instilled into his brain until it was second nature, operating manuals for firearms from the most advanced to the crude harquebusiers and Henry III hand cannons from 13th century Europe. Tactical Black and Guerrilla ops became standard operating procedure.
Keitaro snapped awake. He surveyed his surroundings quickly and found himself to be inside a small pod-like structure. In front of his eyes was a panel. Instinctively, he reached out to touch it. He found that his hands were covered by gloves. When he stood up he hit the top of the pod with a thud and figured from the lack of pain that he was wearing a helmet. He looked down at his body to see that he was in full battle dress.
Kevlar reinforced fibers and titanium plates with an added weight had yet to be identified. He touched the panel in front of him and it came to life. The screen of his helmet slid back into the helmet and the helmet slid into itself until it was only a small strip at the back of his head. It was similar as his other armor as the other pieces slid into folds of themselves until they were only small strips on him that receded into his skin. The panel showed a sequence of numbers. Well, it was only 2 numbers; it was a sequence of 0's and 1's.
'Binary.', automatically thought Keitaro, still dazed from his long period of sleep, more than a year to be exact.
Keitaro's eyes scanned the numbers quickly and he seemed to understand it. Keitaro's eyes glazed over and he kicked open the door to the pod. He was in the middle of the Brazilian jungle. Keitaro tapped the side of his head twice and his armor went back to it place, stopping above his forearms. Keitaro's objectives flashed in front of his eyes terminator style, a feature yours truly developed, and Keitaro's hand changed into a shotgun like weapon.
A.N. – It looks more like Mega Man's hand cannon. All of his weapons will come from his body or surroundings and modified by his nano tech.
Keitaro cocked his weapon with his unchanged left hand, and a shell popped out of his upper forearm (for laughs). Keitaro jumped up and easily bounded over the trees. He landed on a thick branch and continued Northbound until he heard several men speaking in a strange language under him.
He tapped the side of his helmet. The nano tech in his brain recognized the language as an unofficial Cuban dialect. His left hand turned into claw shaped grapple. He swung the claw lightly into the branch. But to him, lightly was slightly over one thousand PSI. He lowered himself down wards until he could see the two men conversing. They were dressed in ragged and modified B.D.U.'s some sort of Guerrilla uniform; modified meaning stripped of all protective padding, sacrificing efficiency for the jungle look.
It was some sort of rebel faction trading weapons for oil from what Keitaro could gather. Keitaro tapped the side of his helmet once again and his suit engaged his cloaking system. His right hand turned into a dual blade gauntlet. He swung down, using his inertia to pierce one man's skull, and, with one dead man in tow, pierce the other man's liver.
End Chapter 1!
A.N. – Well how do you like it? Any reviews would be appreciated. Flames, criticism, and any comments at all will be taken to heart and useful information will gain an honorable mention.
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