OMG, is this an update after all this time? I think it is! Holy Mother of the Earth and sky, I'm back! I apologise to anyone who waited for me to update for Trick of the Devil. I will get back to it as soon as I can work out the plot. The hard drive that had all my notes and work on it died, taking the data with it, including the epic guest chapter from my pal Anti-form-sora. T_T Thus, I must restart from scratch. Watch that space.
Anyhoo, this is a story based on the 009 Manga rather than the anime. The important thing to note is that the whole lot is set in the '60s. It's set in the time between the end of the Mythos arc and the start of the Underground Kingdom arc (what was that kingdom called? I can't find my copies of the Manga anywhere!) in which the cyborgs live normal lives for a while. I think most of what I'm writing is Canon but don't hold me to that. It's probably about 90% Canon.
Tokyo, September 1967.
I admit it: I've been cheating. Big surprise. But, if you were in my shoes, would you really be doing anything different? I didn't think so.
Anyway, it's not like I'm hurting anyone or anything. There are no rules forbidding what I'm doing and no one is losing out. I mean, it's not like I win every race. I let the other drivers win sometimes, or at least make it a very close win. The crowds like better that way anyway. If I went all out and won by five minutes each time no one would look twice at me. I'd rather win by an inch and have a million fans than win by a mile and be loathed by everyone.
Anyway, Hurricane Joe is not famous for winning; he is famous for being completely reckless on the racetrack and by avoiding crashes by a hair's breadth. Thus, I have little choice but to rely on my cybernetic abilities to keep them interested. I'll admit, it pays well, but, that's really not why I'm doing this.
Let me give you a proper explanation. Five years ago, I was Joe Shimamura, aged 18. I was an orphan, a nobody and a convicted criminal. Not because I'd committed a crime, I might add, but because I was different. Being only half-Japanese, I didn't really inspire trust in other people and they had this nasty habit of assuming the worst. A sudden strike of fate saw me breaking out of jail, only to be swept out of the country that same night by the international brotherhood of underground weapons dealers known only as Black Ghost. Without any choice, they made me their test subject. They changed me, made me into a weapon. I became 009, the cyborg soldier. I met the other eight cyborgs, numbered 001 to 008, and together we escaped the captivity of Black Ghost. It would take a lot more than the threat of death to turn us into killers and we were ready to run for as long as it took to find our freedom. But of course, they wouldn't just let us walk away with the thousands of dollars worth of technology that had been implanted within us. They threw everything they could muster in our direction. The rule for our pursuers was simple: bring us back, dead or alive. For two long years we were pursued by other, newer cyborgs, with powers that I could never have imagined.
When New Year dawned in 1964 I looked in the mirror and realised that I had missed my nineteenth and twentieth birthdays and, also, that I hadn't aged a day since I had awoken as 009. In the two years since my incarceration I had stared death in the face almost daily without caring and, unbeknownst to me at that point, the worst was yet to come. In the early months of 1964 a group of cyborgs masquerading as the Gods from Greek Mythology began to attack the world around them, claiming that they were purging the world of those who were unfit to live in it. They didn't know the truth either. They really believed what they were saying. Their belief made them stronger than their cyborg powers ever could. For three months we fought them on and off, narrowly avoiding complete annihilation each time we met them.
I don't really don't want to go into it too much, but, suffice to say, our victory was hard. Not just physically hard either. When they found out the truth about Black Ghost and themselves, the Mythos cyborgs didn't take it well. In the end they all destroyed each other and the scientists that had operated on them.
The thing was, the whole situation wasn't just hard on them. It was hard on us, as a group. We had fought tooth and nail to stop them in their goals, but, in the end they destroyed themselves. We didn't know whom to blame for it all and so we turned on each other. Words were exchanged, a lot of which I wish I could take back. We had nowhere to vent all the anger and sadness. When the last words had been spoken we knew that we could no longer live together as a group. Besides, there was no sign of Black Ghost anywhere and we had gone a whole month without an attack. So, we did the unthinkable and went our separate ways. I wasted no time and simply came back to Japan.
The problem was, I couldn't be Joe Shimamura anymore. I had been written off as dead anyway and the only thing that would await me would be another prison sentence. So, I changed again. Cyborg Soldier 009 became Tetsuya Banks. I got myself a pretty good fake ID and passport that both proclaimed me to be Half American and Half Japanese and I set about building a new life for myself.
See, I had just been planning to lie low and avoid trouble, but, I found myself remembering a conversation I had with 002. For reasons that I couldn't figure out at the time, he and the other cyborgs didn't seem to care that I was only half Japanese.
It's a sign of the times, he used to say. The whole damn world is melting together and you're living proof of that. It's high time those uptight snobs realised that. And you now what? You shouldn't be hiding away like a freak! You should shove it right back in their god-damned faces!
It didn't have much impact at the time, but, when I got back to Japan I found that nothing had changed. The face in the mirror still looked like Joe Shimamura. So, with no other viable options, I became a new person. My new name, Tetsuya Banks, became a whole new identity. Basing myself on what I knew of 002, 003 and 007, I turned myself into what I saw to be a Westerner. I bleached my hair, changed my clothes and started to talk differently. It was strange, on my first day I was completely convinced that people would act the same as before and look down on me the same way. It was a surprise when they seemed to be impressed. I was confident and, as had been recommended, I was as different as I could be. People reacted to it.
I was back in Tokyo in the last few days of June 1964. A few months passed and I began to enjoy life. I found myself working as a stunt driver on the crew of a few films, risking life and limb for entertainment. Someone noticed my driving and offered me a job as a racecar driver. From there it was only up. I drove, the people watched and life just got faster and faster. I think I got addicted to the adrenaline somewhere along the way. It wouldn't surprise me either. Sometime back during our flight from the clutches of Black Ghost, Dr Gilmore, our allied scientist from Black Ghost, told me about a special augmentation within me that released massive amounts of adrenaline when I was doing dangerous things like fighting, or, driving a car stupidly fast. It left me pretty much euphoric at the end of each race.
Problem was, the thrill died after a while. Maybe I jut got used to it, or, maybe I just plain broke. The thrill died and the gravity of my situation dawned on me. I was a freak. Years could go by, decades even, and I would still look and sound the same. I could live to see the dawn of the year 2000 and I would still just be a weapon and nothing more. It would mean that I would eventually have to leave my cushy life in Tokyo or risk being discovered and imprisoned all over again, but by different people. Suffice to say, I had my share of dark days. Even if the Black Ghost was gone, their shadow still stained my mind.
It took me a while, but, I did get back on my feet. In the summer of 1966 I made a choice: to live in the moment. I knew that the life I was in at the moment would not last and that sooner or later I would have to run for my life again. I made a few provisional plans, invested some money overseas and stashed some emergency supplies and then stopped worrying. There was no point in wasting the good times when I didn't have to.
And thus, here I am. I am one of the most famous and respected racecar drivers in Japan; I have a wonderful house and more money than I know what to do with. I take my holidays in Hawaii and drive a Ferrari in my spare time. I live every day as if it is my last and apologise to no-one. Someday I will have to leave this, yes, but that day is not today. I will feel a moment of regret when that day comes, but, it will fade.
And thus, to you my friend, I raise my glass. I welcome you to my home but not into my life. I am a private man at heart and thus I will remain for as long as I can. I would like to say that I'll remember your face but I won't. Tetsuya Banks has no memory. Joe Shimamura would have smiled at you and remembered your face. 009 would have run from you at the drop of hat.
I am glad not to remember. I hope it lasts.
End of part 1.
p.s. a massive hug and thank you to Sharks Potter for metaphorically kicking my butt back into writing with his work. You rule, man!
