A young child, his fate resting in the hands of one man, has nothing to gain nor loose. But can that man make the choice? Can he finish what he began so long ago? Ultimately, should the fate of the world outweigh the Fate one One?
I'm Alive! I'm now at university, which, strange to say, currently means I have loads of time to write. Do not expect this to last ^_^ This is just a little POV thing. No warnings. Review please! Email: neekabe@canoemail.com
Italics are memory/flashback.
Fate of One
The man buried his head in his hands as the door swung closed, quietly shielding himself from the world
Blunt fingers worked through the sandy hair, kneading the tense muscles in his neck
"I don't understand why this is a problem. It's just the way things are"
"Which is exactly why it should be a problem. Things like that should not be the way things are"
It's not cruel. It was carefully engineered not to be cruel, at least not from the child's point of view. But he wouldn't give them the boy, the solemn eyed child deserved more the... existence they would give him. But it made so much sense.
"You know as well as we do that torture is based on depriving someone of things they're used to correct? When you talk to people what they say is the worse part was not having a certain food, sleep, privacy. They had something important taken away from them.
So when training your freedom fighter you make sure he doesn't have any of that stuff to miss, after all, he can't miss what he doesn't know"
So you raise a child who never has a room of his own, never has anything that was 'his' alone. He would be moved from place to place, sleeping wherever he was when the night arrived. Food would be something for energy not pleasure. There could be no pleasure, no toys, no life....
Leaning back into the chair, pale eyes slid closed.
And how was that so different from the boys life now? His was a transitory life, always moving, sleeping wherever they happened to be when they could travel no longer.
But surely he had things now? he had... What did he have? His gun? no..... so what different was this life really compared to the one that... man had offered
Pain is the worse when it's new. Pain is simply the changing state. You only notice it before it's different from the norm.
By that token, things don't hurt as much when you're used to it. For most people the norm is the absence of pain. What if for this child pain is the norm. The absence of pain would be the surprise. How would be destroy such a soldier?
Pain would simply be the normal state of existence.
That's the difference. Here at least the boy knows he's safe. The man stood suddenly, the chair banging as it slammed back into position
The sound almost made the man jump. Safe... how safe was this life if he was jumping at chairs?
He walked across the room to a door, different from the one closed not so long ago by that... man.
Calloused hands hesitated at the knob but opened it anyway. Inside a boy lay sleeping, dark hair covering his brow, small hands clutched the thin blankets up close to his chin.
He had stirred at the sound of the door but had not woken.
The door was closed gently. It took too much to get him to sleep these days. He was learning to wake whenever anything in his immediate surroundings changed. Instincts were already being developed. He was learning the paranoia that kept an assassin alive.
He wouldn't reman so young for long... maybe he should just give the boy up. Give him up before he had to watch that light leave his eyes as the bitterness of the world settle in. He would be giving him to someone who could give the child a reason. Who would he become as the adopted son of an aging assassin? But then again,who would he become with them?
"This little pill. You recognize it, a basic painkiller right? Simple to buy, anyone can get their hands on them . You know who they work? all they do is block the pain receptors in the brain. That's it. A small short surgery and you have a permanent painkiller.
Between that and the enhanced pain tolerance, even if someone managed to make him feel pain to the level that his programming will be overruled, he'll be dead, or close enough that it won't matter. The body simply won't be able to take that amount of damage"
Damn it! His fist halted inches from the wall. -Don't wake the boy!- The muscles were tense as he lowered his arm... carefully... slowly... as if expecting it to leap back at the wall the moment he took his eyes from it.
They talked about him like he was a thing an object to be manipulated into something more useful.
"We will have a perfect solder, the ultimate assassin. He will free out colonies from oppression. He will change the world "
The kid was unique, he had the potential to become exactly what they wanted. Exactly what the colonies needed.
That was the sticking point. Who was he to decide the fate of the world? The men were right about one thing; the kid was special. There was something in the way he moved, the way he held himself, even at 7 he had a spark.
He was one of the few strong enough to survive the level of training. He had yet to learn what was normal for a person.
Their plan made perfect logical sense, every detail was planned. The only problem came when you stopped thinking and let the heart intrude.
If you could save the world, by sacrificing one child to a lifetime of hell, what would you choose?
But would it really be hell if the child never knew otherwise?
Then came the real question; the one that had been nagging him at the back of his mind since They had first presented their idea.
If you could save the world by giving up the only thing that gave your life meaning, would you?
And therein lay the crux of his dilemma.
Living without those young wide eyes, watching, absorbing, the eagerness, those few rare smiles. The time they spent together, the look on his face when a new skill was mastered....
He found himself outside the bedroom door once again.
"We must have him young, before he understands what he has lost. we must have him while he is still trainable. Older and we will have to first break him of habits and ideas. That will leave a flaw in him.
He will not suffer greatly, but I cannot tell you it will be enjoyable at any stretch. It will be necessary. Surely you understand necessity."
Necessity... necessity cause him to destroy the colonies only hope for peace with earth so many years ago.
Necessity was giving him a chance to right that wrong.
"Bring him to colony X-18999. We will be waiting"
Deep blue eyes blinked sleepily when he brushed the thin shoulder.
"You were talking to someone."
Odin nodded
"Where are we going?" He knew the results of those late night visitors.
"X-18999"
The child nodded, pushed away the covers. He shivered slightly in the cool air as he stepped quickly into his clothes.
"Got a mark there?" The words sounded strange coming out of such a young mouth.
The taller man nodded. Yes, or at least he would have one by the time they got there. Best not to tell the child now, let him enjoy the traveling.
"Well be traveling as father and son" He didn't know what made him say that. A dream maybe, a hope.
"Choose a name" he turned away to pick up the bags, not yet unpacked from their arrival.
"Odin Lowe Jr."
He almost dropped the bags
"Why?" he rasped, struggling to control the emotions flooding through him at the chosen name.
"You're my father right? Makes sense" His voice was flat but there was a hint of amusement in the blue eyes. He liked being able to get a reaction. The tall assassin wondered if the boy even understood the reasons for his response.
Odin Lowe Jr. followed his namesake out the door unaware of the mental turmoil in the man who had taught him everything he knew. Which was the lesser of two evils? The aging assassin had no answer, no way to justify deciding the fate of the world. All Odin could do now was follow the best advice he had ever been given... as hard as that could be.
Follow your emotions.
***end***