Author's Notes: I do not own Gundam Seed or Gundam Seed Destiny; it's all written for fun and no profit whatsoever. I've had to speculate about Lodonia and what it may have been like. The "T" rating is only for violence discussion.
Being a weapon implies an object with no mind or will of its own. Some people just might find it strange that I, Sting Oakley, knows something like that. At least, my superiors would. I've been suspecting all along since the day I was sent to this facility that my mind was being tampered with. When I could no longer remember my previous life in detail, I knew something was up. I was only 9 at the time, and now I'm almost 16. I think.
Anyway, I didn't think much of it at first because they told me that it was for my own good. They were older, wiser, and my new caretakers, so I figured they must know what they're talking about. I sure didn't understand, not until now; now I'm realizing that I am slowly being developed into a living, breathing weapon.
I've been trained in almost every combat possible. I know how to shoot a gun with accuracy. I can effectively use a blade or some other object with a sharp end. And my training has recently consisted of piloting. When that started, I had a lot of trouble. The technology in the simulations was unlike anything I had ever seen or experienced in this facility. Gradually, I grew accustomed to the advanced system of piloting, improving my maneuvering capabilities. I am the most skilled out of all those in my training group, but to me, it doesn't matter. The job just has to get done as quickly and smoothly as possible.
Soon, though, I became very suspicious. I had heard about a great war starting – Bloody Valentine, was it? Even though the children and teenagers like myself are not treated as equals, we're still briefed on current events that pertain to our training. Lately, the workers have been discussing the conflict between naturals and the coordinators (I wonder if the work that's been done on me makes me an almost-coordinator). I figure all this discussion must be for the purpose of preparing us. For what exactly, I don't really know, but I bet it has a lot to do with the flight simulations.
For some odd reason, it makes me very nervous. I'm not usually nervous. I try to remain as realistic as possible, never focusing on the what-ifs and could-bes because that just wastes time, especially when leaving the facility is an impossible dream. But today I'm nervous. It's this incomprehensible dread that's bothering me, and it looks like I'm about to find out why I'm feeling this way. They've called us to this large meeting room.
I go to stand in the back, a little off to the side. Everyone in the room, save for our superiors, is dressed in the same pale, sickly green uniform that practically boasts the fact that we're the "experiments."
The meeting hasn't begun, so I decide to look at who is still alive. I'm relieved to see two people I know: Auel Neider and Stellar Loussier. But my worry and relief is unnecessary. I've seen the both of them in action. Auel would never let himself be killed; he's the best in gun action with a cocky, dangerous attitude. And Stellar is smarter than she looks, and deadly, too. I know for a fact that some deceased learned quickly not to take her naive, spaced-out look at face value. Of course, the victims will never have the chance to redeem their stupidity.
Stellar sees me, and smiles. I mean, actually smiles with her teeth showing and everything. I rarely see anyone smile genuinely, but Stellar does. If she smiles, it's not forced. If she yells, it's raw and burning with fury. And, thankfully, she doesn't cry anymore. I told her not to, and she listened. I don't know why she decided to hang around me. Sometimes I find that annoying, other times I find it comforting.
She's coming over – no, more like bouncing over. "Stellar is happy to see Sting!" she says.
I simply pat her head in acknowledgment, knowing that she will understand that she doesn't need words to know that I am glad to see her.
I scan the rest of the crowd for Auel. He's standing in the back in the back, looking like his usual grumpy self until he sees me, and then smirks. I nod, pleased that he understood. He's made it a contest to see who will survive the longest.
The main guy is at the front in his long, white lab coat and thick glasses, a black goatee, and a large bald spot on his head. He starts to speak, explaining even more about the war, which I now know is called The Bloody Valentine War. Then he gestures towards the wide-scale computer screen behind him. There is a machine pictured, which he identifies as a mobile suit, or a gundam. I barely hear him as I stare at the image, wondering if it means what I think it means.
Now three names are being read out: Crot Buer, Orga Sabnak, and Shani Andras. I know the first two. Crot Buer annoys me big-time. He used to be in my training group, always playing around with video games (we're given personal items once in awhile if we're a success at our given task, plus we are allowed to spend time outside now that we're older). He never cooperated with me or any of the others. He nearly killed me once during combat training with a rifle.
And Orga Sabnak always reads. He was in my training group, too, and was easier to deal with than Crot, since Orga actually follows the orders we're given. But he's still irritating, thinking he's better than the rest of us. No one is better than the other; we're all being trained for the same purpose, and we'll most likely die while in battle. Thinking you're in a higher position is ridiculous. There's no chance for a decent future.
Crot, Orga, and Shani have been chosen to pilot mobile suits named Raider, Calamity, and Forbidden because they have proven themselves more than capable of handling the coordinators, our designated enemy. This news confirms my suspicions; we are definitely meant for war.
The days pass. I've been put into a group consisting only of Auel, Stellar, and myself. According to our supervisors, the three of us have demonstrated skills and abilities that will coincide with each other. I soon learned why; Crot, Orga, and Shani are dead, killed in the Bloody Valentine war, which has since ended. But I'm not surprised. Crot and Orga never did get along, and Shani didn't look he would have gotten along with them, either. They probably argued with each other, eventually leading to ineffective battle tactics, and ultimately, their deaths. Fools.
And now the responsibility has been placed on us – the source of my nervousness finally becomes clear after a few years. Auel, Stellar, and I are are spending more hours in flight simulation. New drugs are being injected into us, and we don't sleep in our cells anymore. We sleep in these pods that revitalize our strength (I always feel healthier and stronger afterwards) and erase some memories (this I know because there's a smooth, pearl-like stone I have in my pocket, and I have no idea how it got there; I must have gone outside and taken it back in, but I can't remember).
Our training is harsher; sometimes we have to go without the evening meal as discipline, and we have had to learn to kill a person in the shortest time possible, leaving more time to accomplish our goal. The three of us have had not trouble completing our assignments; we are the top warriors now.
I am chosen as the leader of our trio. I am quite satisfied with this position. Auel's too stubborn and rash to be a leader, and don't get me stared on Stellar. I like the girl fine, but she just wouldn't be able to handle such a position. They both have had what's called "block words" for a few years now. Auel's is "mother" and Stellar's is "death" or "die." Those words are meant to keep them in control, and I have one, too, but I'd rather not think about it.
Anyway, Auel and Stellar have become more than just comrades. I know their strengths and weaknesses. Just interacting with Auel and Stellar makes what little of a life I have bearable. Just having to step in to tell Auel to stop teasing Stellar, and to tell Stellar to quit dancing all over the place brightens my mood significantly.
Well, another war has begun again. The Second Bloody Valentine War, and I am piloting the Chaos. Idiot naturals and coordinators, but if there was no war, then we'd probably be disposed of. There is no place for Auel, Stellar, and I in the outside world. We were trained for battle, and that is all. No more, no less. It is our purpose – my purpose, and I hold on to that purpose. Otherwise, I would have killed myself a long time ago, or allowed myself to be destroyed easily. War means I will be of some use, that I will be around for a little while longer to see Auel and Stellar.
My purpose no longer makes me nervous. I've flown a gundam already, I've been through several battles and have come out alive and victorious. This is what my existence is and it's futile thinking there is more. I will see this purpose to the end, prove myself a better fighter than Crot, Orga, and Shani ever were, play a little basketball with Auel, and return Stellar's smile without having to force it, at least once before death.