Hero
Disclaimer: - Pure and simple: I don't own them. Warning: - Deathfic, Zero Heero, languge, PG.
They don't know. I stare at the crowds of people of whom I am meant to address. About what it's like. What it's like to be a hero, and have to be famed for that. No one really knows me in here. I feel as if I don't even know myself. I wasn't trained to be a hero. My real name probably isn't even close to hero. They don't what it's like to be called 'Heero' and be a hero. You don't know me. Now my eyes swipe the people angrily. I wasn't even trained to save the world. But everything got in the way of my mission. Some pervet old man trained me as a tool for death and destruction. No hero. Relena shakes my arm, and says, under her breath, 'Look, I know you're not a good public speaker, but read the cue cards and you'll be fine.' I begin to stutter over the words. 'People, it has been a long, dreadful year, but it's over. The war between the colonies and earth is over. I........' I trailed of, bitting my lip. Relena's right, I'm not a good public speaker, but what I say next has to be said. 'I.......I don't feel like a hero. I feel damned. Damned to save this world. And I don't like it. Do you know, everyone in this world is world famous for 20 minutes? And I don't want to waste my fame on being famed for killing. I bet a lot of you wanted to see the hero who saved them. And you, like me, have seen a lot of 'pure' death. But I did that as well. It wasn't just Oz, or the enemy. I hurt you too. I am not your hero. I don't know who is. Maybe the dead. But it isn't me. I killed millions too. So go honor someone else.' There was dead silence after that. The someone began to clap. Weakly, but then more joined. But I didn't want that. 'STOP IT!' I yelled. The clapping halted. 'I don't need your applause. I am who I am. And I am not happy being a murderer. So, please, clap me when I make a positive difference. I didn't save the world. And neither did my allies,' I said, sweeping my hands other countless soldiers. 'They did. The dead. In a way, none of them meant to die. And those who did.......well, you know..........' My voice rose, not content with letting them think about those whom really died fightening. 'They're bastards!' I yelled, rage boiling inside me. 'They killed many people. But, when they died, everyone is sad. Well, suck this!' I took a knife. Everyone gasped. But I didn't cut myself or anyone. Instead, I also took out a pair of gloves. Staring at the crowd, I dedifently snapped the blade. 'This,' I said, voice shaking, 'Is the symbol of the end of the wars. And the start of peace.' 'I am not a hero,' I said, 'And neither are my allies. But you came here to honor people who killed woman, children, men, friends, moms, dads, sisters, brothers. If peace can only be accomplished by killing, then whats the worth of peace? War kills people, and so, obviously, does achiving peace. If I was a hero, I wouldn't be here today. I would be down in the ground with the rest of them. And you shouldn't be here either. You should be honoring the dead. Please excuse me.' With that I left the stage, switching the microphone off. I had to visit someone..... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I had found her grave a couple of months before. And her name. I had bought a bunch of flowers. 'I'm sorry. It shouldn't of happened. But if I hadn't blown up the base, you would of been ok. Your puppy is with you. Mary. Sorry, Marie.' This was the girl I killed grave's stone. The one who taught me the value of emotions. Before death and in death.
Here lies Maire Winchester, daughter, sister and loving friend. If this is what we need for peace, then don't bother. 'She is a hero.'
I left, pulling my coat closer as a cold wind chilled me. My hair blew, and I heard a whisper in my ear. 'Thank you, kind Sir.' I span round, expecting someone to be there teasing me. But there was no one. And the flowers were gone.............
Disclaimer: - Pure and simple: I don't own them. Warning: - Deathfic, Zero Heero, languge, PG.
They don't know. I stare at the crowds of people of whom I am meant to address. About what it's like. What it's like to be a hero, and have to be famed for that. No one really knows me in here. I feel as if I don't even know myself. I wasn't trained to be a hero. My real name probably isn't even close to hero. They don't what it's like to be called 'Heero' and be a hero. You don't know me. Now my eyes swipe the people angrily. I wasn't even trained to save the world. But everything got in the way of my mission. Some pervet old man trained me as a tool for death and destruction. No hero. Relena shakes my arm, and says, under her breath, 'Look, I know you're not a good public speaker, but read the cue cards and you'll be fine.' I begin to stutter over the words. 'People, it has been a long, dreadful year, but it's over. The war between the colonies and earth is over. I........' I trailed of, bitting my lip. Relena's right, I'm not a good public speaker, but what I say next has to be said. 'I.......I don't feel like a hero. I feel damned. Damned to save this world. And I don't like it. Do you know, everyone in this world is world famous for 20 minutes? And I don't want to waste my fame on being famed for killing. I bet a lot of you wanted to see the hero who saved them. And you, like me, have seen a lot of 'pure' death. But I did that as well. It wasn't just Oz, or the enemy. I hurt you too. I am not your hero. I don't know who is. Maybe the dead. But it isn't me. I killed millions too. So go honor someone else.' There was dead silence after that. The someone began to clap. Weakly, but then more joined. But I didn't want that. 'STOP IT!' I yelled. The clapping halted. 'I don't need your applause. I am who I am. And I am not happy being a murderer. So, please, clap me when I make a positive difference. I didn't save the world. And neither did my allies,' I said, sweeping my hands other countless soldiers. 'They did. The dead. In a way, none of them meant to die. And those who did.......well, you know..........' My voice rose, not content with letting them think about those whom really died fightening. 'They're bastards!' I yelled, rage boiling inside me. 'They killed many people. But, when they died, everyone is sad. Well, suck this!' I took a knife. Everyone gasped. But I didn't cut myself or anyone. Instead, I also took out a pair of gloves. Staring at the crowd, I dedifently snapped the blade. 'This,' I said, voice shaking, 'Is the symbol of the end of the wars. And the start of peace.' 'I am not a hero,' I said, 'And neither are my allies. But you came here to honor people who killed woman, children, men, friends, moms, dads, sisters, brothers. If peace can only be accomplished by killing, then whats the worth of peace? War kills people, and so, obviously, does achiving peace. If I was a hero, I wouldn't be here today. I would be down in the ground with the rest of them. And you shouldn't be here either. You should be honoring the dead. Please excuse me.' With that I left the stage, switching the microphone off. I had to visit someone..... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I had found her grave a couple of months before. And her name. I had bought a bunch of flowers. 'I'm sorry. It shouldn't of happened. But if I hadn't blown up the base, you would of been ok. Your puppy is with you. Mary. Sorry, Marie.' This was the girl I killed grave's stone. The one who taught me the value of emotions. Before death and in death.
Here lies Maire Winchester, daughter, sister and loving friend. If this is what we need for peace, then don't bother. 'She is a hero.'
I left, pulling my coat closer as a cold wind chilled me. My hair blew, and I heard a whisper in my ear. 'Thank you, kind Sir.' I span round, expecting someone to be there teasing me. But there was no one. And the flowers were gone.............