DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Shirow Masamune , various publishers and companies including (but not limited) to Dark Horse Comics, Eclipse International, TOHO, and Geneon Entertainment Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
In the faint light of dawn, Deunan Knute pulled herself up into sitting position on her bunk. As they had for almost a year now, every one of her muscles ached. She would have thought that as time wore on her body would hurt less, but just as she got used to one level of performance her father would up the bar, demanding more of her. She didn't complain, but strove her best to meet his expectations, hoping that if she could just master these skills maybe he would remember that she was his daughter and be proud of her.
Up on the ceiling above her bunk was a family picture. She was nine when it was taken; next to her was her big brother Jordan, who was fifteen then; her beautiful mother, with blonde hair and large blue eyes, was in back of them next to her father, Carl Knute, who was smiling proudly, one hand on her shoulder, the other arm wrapped around his wife's waist. They had been perfect then, before that day…
Her mind blocked it out. She couldn't bear to think of it. On that day her whole idyllic world had turned on its head, and all she was left with was this odd shell of existence, a life filled with nothing but training, weapons, and uniforms; those, yes, and pain. Both the physical pain she couldn't shake, and the worse mental pain, that insisted on gnawing at her whether waking or sleeping. There was no escaping either, it was as though they had taken the place of her parents, the physical pain her father, the mental pain her mother, and they were turning her into someone she didn't like.
She didn't want to think about the past or the future, though, instead slid off her top bunk, with a grunt as her feet hit the hard, cold concrete. All around her, women twice her age were hurriedly dressing for the day. It may be Saturday, and her father may not be on base, but there was still morning PT. Pulling on a tank top, she couldn't help but wonder when here breast would come out. It was funny; the thought of growing into a woman had never bothered her before her mother's death, back when she was still daddy's little girl. She had cut off her long blonde locks a week after her mother's funeral, seeing that her father much preferred the company of his son. Lacing up her combat boots she gave a cynical little laugh, in her fatigues with her cropped hair she looked more like a boy, but it hardly helped. When they had moved to LA she'd taken up wearing boys' clothes, if her father wanted sons, he would have sons, but although he now at least talked to her, it was never in the gentle, jovial ways he used to. Now he barked orders at her, only complimenting her when it was about her performance on the training field.
Jordan was her only source of normalcy. He was the same, more or less, as he'd always been, distant, but kind. Running up to him that morning, on the parade field he tousled her hair playfully. "Fall in, squirt," he said with a chuckle. "After PT, we'll see if we can knock some time off on the obstacle course, okay?"
"Sure thing," she said with a smile that she didn't really feel, and ran off to her spot. Carl had wanted her to shave a couple minutes off her course time by the next inspection, and although she hated the idea of running through it over and over again, at least Jordan would be there to keep her spirits up.
After PT as he promised, they were out on the course. She pushed herself hard and he ran it on the side of her, encouraging her, and keeping their time on his wristwatch. "You're doing great, Deu," he said as they finished for the third time. "Let's break for a bit. I know Carl'll be proud of you."
"You think so?" she said hopefully as she dropped onto the short grass.
"I know I am," he said, playfully punching her in the arm as he sat down next to her.
"So you think he was able to get that Greek guy?" she asked her nose crinkling up a little.
"Probably," Jordan said his mood growing dark. They both knew what new recruits meant. They would both be pushed further back down the pecking order, and worse, be that much more ignored by their father. For Jordan though, this time was an added blow, he had just graduated from STC, and had had hopes that the newly opened position as instructor would have been his. After all, his stats were the highest on the base, and although he had fewer years experience than this foreigner, he also didn't have the horrible black mark of having worked as a hit man.
"Maybe we'll luck out and the KGB take him out before Dad can get to him," she said, looking slyly at him through the corners of her eyes, and evil grin on her lips. Regardless the personal nature of Verund's conversations with her father, she was an excellent eavesdropper, and had shared her findings with her older brother.
"That's so wrong, Deu," he said laughing as pushed her in the shoulder again.
"But funny," she said with a chuckle.
"You have a sick sense of humor, kid," he said with a quirky little smile in the corner of his mouth. Standing up, he dusted himself off and offered her a hand up. "Come on, let's run the course a couple more times. You still have 27 seconds to shave off, but I think most of it's at the wall, so if we can fix that, you'll be perfect."
Half an hour later, they were still out there when a Jeep pulled up into the parking lot on base. Both siblings stopped where they were, looking with curiosity, trying to get a glimpse of their new superior, but it was only their father and Verund who climbed out the Jeep. Deunan shot Jordan an evil smile. "KGB," she whispered, but then a man on a silver motorcycle pulled up into the parking lot, and her smile faded. Damn it all.
"Come on, let's show the old man what you've got," Jordan growled urging his little sister to start up their training again.
"Yeah," she agreed, no longer caring to get a good look at the new recruit. She pushed aside fatigue and pain, forcing her muscles to work through the maze of the obstacle course. She vaguely registered it as her father and the other two men approached the course, leaning up against a fence and watching their performance.
"Nothing like the KGB, eh?" Briareos muttered under his breath to Verund as he watched Deunan speed through the course. The disgust was thick in his voice. He hated the very idea of child soldier, and had never expected to find them here.
"She's not on SWAT, Briareos," Verund whispered back. "Those two are Carl's kids. Jordan's seventeen, and he's on, but Deunan just trains. She's the only kid on base, too, just in case you're wondering about that."
Briareos didn't say anything to this, but watched the two blonde-haired siblings as they finished their run. He wasn't sure what to think of this. On one hand, what the hell was Carl thinking, training his own daughter that way, but on the other, at least he was keeping them all together.
"Jordan, Deunan!" Carl barked when they'd completed. "Get over here!"
They were obedient, Jordan's face taking the Stoic nature of a soldier, but Deunan's expression was one of ill-hid contempt. She didn't make eye contact with Briareos or Verund, but rather scowled at her father, who ignored her hostility.
"This is Briareos," Carl said when they approached, "Briareos, these are my children, Jordan and Deunan."
"Pleased to meet you," Briareos said shaking Jordan's hand. Turning to Deunan he offered his hand, but found that she was still angrily looking away. "Nice to meet you too, kid," he said with a chuckle.
"I'm not a kid!" Deunan growled as she turned to face him for the first time, her green eyes filled with rage that softened only slightly as the she held his gaze for a minute.
"Deunan, laps, now!" Carl snapped. "And don't stop till I tell you to!" Turning to Briareos he apologized, "I'm sorry about that. Don't know what's wrong with that kid, most of the time she's got a better head on her shoulders." Jordan fought back a response to this, and remained still, his knuckles whitening.
"No worries," Briareos replied, watching as the little girl started her laps. "She's probably just having a bad day."
"Humph," was all Carl responded to this. "Well, get out on the field, you've still got to prove yourself or you'll be on the next flight back to Greece."
He still wasn't sure how Verund had talked him into hiring a man whose skills were, as of yet, only legend. But, those fears were quickly dispelled. Jordan stood on the sidelines with his father and Verund, his anger raging as in test after test, Briareos proved himself to be more skilled than anything the boy could have hoped to aspire to.
As they tested him, Deunan ran the parameter of the base. While he was within her range of view, she watched Briareos. Although she'd never admit it, he was much better than she'd have ever imagined, not only that, but he was surprisingly handsome. The sight of him gave her an odd and uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Just before he started on the firing range, Carl called for Deunan to stop her laps, and she sullenly went to join them. The range was her best area, and the one place she felt Carl was truly proud of her at. She knew, having observed him earlier that he would most likely surpass her here, too. Her heart was torn between wanting to watch the skills of someone with more mastery than herself, and an impractical desire to turn back time so that this intriguing stranger never arrived.
Briareos pulled out his twin PSS pistols, firing akimbo as the targets popped up. He made them all, with very well placed shots. Jordan scowled, and quietly walked off. He'd been bested; it was no longer practical to hold onto the idea that his father would give him the position over this outsider. Deunan watched her brother leave, torn between the desire to follow him and the desire to keep watching Briareos.
"Classic KGB," Carl said, with a hint of approval in his voice at the young man's prowess. "Let's go get you something to eat. This afternoon we'll see how you fare with hand-to-hand combat."
"Yes, Sir," Briareos said, putting the weapons back in his holsters and following the other two men.
"You coming?" Carl called back to Deunan, who had leaned in to examine the placing of the bullet holes.
Startled she spun around to quickly and fell over. Laughing at her clumsiness, Briareos asked, "You okay?" as he went back to give her a hand up.
She jumped up before he could offer his hand, though, hissing at him, "I'm fine." She was glad her father hadn't caught that or she'd have been back on the track running until sundown, but she couldn't help herself. He made her uneasy and she couldn't figure out why. For all the training she'd undergone, nothing had prepared her for her first crush.