Prodigy
Prologue
By Mongoose
Warnings: Violence, abuse, lots and lots of bad language and Nagi angst, OCC, more warnings to be announced.
Category: Side story, takes place when Nagi is 8 years old.
Spoilers: So far, none, might be later, though.
Declaimer: I don't own WK or Magnolia.
Note: I don't know where I'm going with this. I was watching a movie called Magnolia, but it was so long and random, however interesting, that I just couldn't take it anymore and got up and started typing this. However, this was inspired by the movie, so I credit it with that. If this fic turns out strange blame it on the movie, the time of night and my headache (damn those allergies!)
Anyway, I intend this to be a thoughtful fic about Nagi and how he got his codename. So, on with the fic.
I was a prodigy. Always had been. And I hated it.
I was on another game show. Another stupid, fucking game show. One of those ones they put real smart kids on. Like Jeopardy for kids. They take us backstage and pamper us and put makeup on us and tell us to do a good job, or else. Sure, they didn't say "or else" but you know they mean it. It's in their eyes. And when they said, "I know your gonna win for us, aren't ya?", using their baby talk, like we wouldn't understand them otherwise, they don't really want you to answer the question. It's rhetorical. The smile that shows too much teeth and the never reaches their eyes, only filled with threats. Those threats said, "don't you even think about saying 'no'," and most of all they say, "Don't fail us, or you're a failure, and we won't pretend to love you anymore. We won't love failures, won't even pretend to." That's what the threats in their eyes said. And I understood.
I was a prodigy, the very best of all, they said as they patting me on the head in that condescending way that I hated.
And I was the best. No one doubted that.
The other kids didn't like that. Didn't like me. They envied me. But I didn't want that. I didn't want their envy. Or their awe, and their jealousy. I didn't want their spite, their insults whispered behind their chubby little hands like I couldn't hear them.
But they depended on me, they needed me. They needed me to win for them. And so they respected me, in a hatful sort of way, and I ignored them like I was above them, better than them, because I was.
But tonight was different. Tonight had to be. Because I just couldn't live if it all turned out just like the last three years of my life.
//flashback//
"Ya' fuckin' pro'gy! Ya' fucker! Fu'in' eight year ol' gen'us! Ya think yer' smar'er than ta ress a' us?! Huh?! Ya' ain't my goddamn son! Ya' ain't human! Yer' juss a prodigy! Sall' yer are!"
Nagi Naoe curled up tighter into the corner he'd taken shelter in from the onslaught of slurred words from his drunken father.
A strong hand roughly reached down and grabbed him by his hair, the other dangling him form his collar.
He shook him, hard.
"Ya' know wha? You KNOW WHAT?!" the intoxicated man roared, spitting foul saliva into Nagi's face. His breath worked its way into Nagi's wrinkled nose and he smelled the cheep beer his father had indulged himself in with the money won from Nagi's last show. 'He said for college! He promised he wouldn't spend it this time! He'd said to win the money, and that he'd put it away for college!' Nagi thought in anguished betrayal.
He shook Nagi again, startling the boy so badly from his thoughts of another future lost that he almost lost his nerve and screamed. Almost.
"Do ya' know what!!?"
There was a silence in which Nagi deemed he was suppose to answer, but the boy just shook his head and said nothing.
"I'll tell ya' wah! Only reasin' I 'idn't throw ya' out the day yer was born was 'cauze a' her! Well, guz wah!? Shez dead now, boy! Now only thin' keepin' ya here, in this house, eatin' this moverfuckin' food, wastin' my money, is me! Me! Ya hear?!"
He gave the boy a final shake for emphasis, then still holding him, he leaded close and whispered, his hot, foul breath filling Nagi's senses, and his raspy voice echoing in Nagi's head, "Ya' win money, that's the only reason yer' still here, in my house, eatin' my food! 'cause yer' smart, ya bastard! Sall' yer' worth, is yer brains, ya little shit! Ya' won't fail me, will ya' not me, the one who gives ya a home and food ya shit! Ya' won't! I'll kick yer out! Won't never see ya' again, won't have to feed ya or nothin' Ya' FAILURE!! Ya moverfuckin' failure!"
Nagi let out a small whimper, the first sound he'd made since his father came home from the bar to find him staring with a blank expression out of the window where rain pounded outside.
The noise seemed to startle the unshaven drunk and he looked down at his son as if for the time that night. Really looked. And he saw a scared, lost, miserable child.
A single tear trickled down Nagi's cheek, barely visible in the dim yellow lamp light. Perhaps it was that that startled Nagi's father out of his drunken rage. For Nagi never cried. Never. He frowned, confused, obviously having trouble processing this information in his clouded mind.
A smile cracked his grizzled face and he set the shaken boy down. "It's solight, lil' man. I dun' know whas wrong, but it's soright." His eyes crinkled at the sides the way they used to do when his mother was still alive, making his whole face a mass of smile lines.
The kindness, if not confusion, in the man's voice almost made Nagi smile. Almost. But Nagi never smiled, not anymore. Not even when his father talked that way, reminding Nagi of the good times. The old, old, never come again times. And even now, he wasn't always like this. On good days he could even seem…loving. But it was all a lie, to Nagi. A lie he cherished and loved and clung to for sanity. And today was the worst day yet.
He father glanced at his watch, his brow furrowing in concentration as he attempted to read the time from its ticking hands.
"Ain't there summing ya' got to do?....ah, I remember, it's that show a' your. Hurry now, or you'll be late! Smile fo' me out there, Na…Nag…Na…son," he stuttered, trying to remember his son's name, but gave up. His mind was so hopeless clouded with drink. He finished with a staggeringly hard pat on the back and a, "Win daddy a fortune out there, Prodigy!"
//End Flashback//
I showed no outward signs of emotion as I replayed the drama of a few hours ago in my mind. I pride myself on that, because I couldn't let them see. I would never ever let them see.
'He couldn't even remember my name this time….That's bad, worst I've ever seen him, I think. Yeah. I always win you a fortune, dad, and you always go and spend it on your goddamn beer. Damn, I hate that awful stuff. The creator of alcohol should die. Probably already did, centuries ago. The creator of this damn show should die. I hate him, hate everyone here, I hate them all and I hate you, dad!… He will die. Tonight. Yeah, your Prodigy always wins you a fortune, doesn't he, daddy? And now he's going to fucking kill the man who provides that fortune. I'm going to kill him.'
Then the lady, some faceless makeup technician, told me she was done and the other kids and my "handler" as I secretly thought of her, told us it was time, and asked us if we were gonna do our best, another rhetorical question. I didn't bother to answer her. I had more important things to do than to deign her with a response, like murdering the producer of 'Kid Geniuses'.
And with that I walked out onto the brightly lit stage for the last time….
All done with part one. There will be a sequel. I plan this to be a short little series.
Tell me what you think and if you see any mistakes and I'll fix 'em. demonangel600@comcast.net
Prologue
By Mongoose
Warnings: Violence, abuse, lots and lots of bad language and Nagi angst, OCC, more warnings to be announced.
Category: Side story, takes place when Nagi is 8 years old.
Spoilers: So far, none, might be later, though.
Declaimer: I don't own WK or Magnolia.
Note: I don't know where I'm going with this. I was watching a movie called Magnolia, but it was so long and random, however interesting, that I just couldn't take it anymore and got up and started typing this. However, this was inspired by the movie, so I credit it with that. If this fic turns out strange blame it on the movie, the time of night and my headache (damn those allergies!)
Anyway, I intend this to be a thoughtful fic about Nagi and how he got his codename. So, on with the fic.
I was a prodigy. Always had been. And I hated it.
I was on another game show. Another stupid, fucking game show. One of those ones they put real smart kids on. Like Jeopardy for kids. They take us backstage and pamper us and put makeup on us and tell us to do a good job, or else. Sure, they didn't say "or else" but you know they mean it. It's in their eyes. And when they said, "I know your gonna win for us, aren't ya?", using their baby talk, like we wouldn't understand them otherwise, they don't really want you to answer the question. It's rhetorical. The smile that shows too much teeth and the never reaches their eyes, only filled with threats. Those threats said, "don't you even think about saying 'no'," and most of all they say, "Don't fail us, or you're a failure, and we won't pretend to love you anymore. We won't love failures, won't even pretend to." That's what the threats in their eyes said. And I understood.
I was a prodigy, the very best of all, they said as they patting me on the head in that condescending way that I hated.
And I was the best. No one doubted that.
The other kids didn't like that. Didn't like me. They envied me. But I didn't want that. I didn't want their envy. Or their awe, and their jealousy. I didn't want their spite, their insults whispered behind their chubby little hands like I couldn't hear them.
But they depended on me, they needed me. They needed me to win for them. And so they respected me, in a hatful sort of way, and I ignored them like I was above them, better than them, because I was.
But tonight was different. Tonight had to be. Because I just couldn't live if it all turned out just like the last three years of my life.
//flashback//
"Ya' fuckin' pro'gy! Ya' fucker! Fu'in' eight year ol' gen'us! Ya think yer' smar'er than ta ress a' us?! Huh?! Ya' ain't my goddamn son! Ya' ain't human! Yer' juss a prodigy! Sall' yer are!"
Nagi Naoe curled up tighter into the corner he'd taken shelter in from the onslaught of slurred words from his drunken father.
A strong hand roughly reached down and grabbed him by his hair, the other dangling him form his collar.
He shook him, hard.
"Ya' know wha? You KNOW WHAT?!" the intoxicated man roared, spitting foul saliva into Nagi's face. His breath worked its way into Nagi's wrinkled nose and he smelled the cheep beer his father had indulged himself in with the money won from Nagi's last show. 'He said for college! He promised he wouldn't spend it this time! He'd said to win the money, and that he'd put it away for college!' Nagi thought in anguished betrayal.
He shook Nagi again, startling the boy so badly from his thoughts of another future lost that he almost lost his nerve and screamed. Almost.
"Do ya' know what!!?"
There was a silence in which Nagi deemed he was suppose to answer, but the boy just shook his head and said nothing.
"I'll tell ya' wah! Only reasin' I 'idn't throw ya' out the day yer was born was 'cauze a' her! Well, guz wah!? Shez dead now, boy! Now only thin' keepin' ya here, in this house, eatin' this moverfuckin' food, wastin' my money, is me! Me! Ya hear?!"
He gave the boy a final shake for emphasis, then still holding him, he leaded close and whispered, his hot, foul breath filling Nagi's senses, and his raspy voice echoing in Nagi's head, "Ya' win money, that's the only reason yer' still here, in my house, eatin' my food! 'cause yer' smart, ya bastard! Sall' yer' worth, is yer brains, ya little shit! Ya' won't fail me, will ya' not me, the one who gives ya a home and food ya shit! Ya' won't! I'll kick yer out! Won't never see ya' again, won't have to feed ya or nothin' Ya' FAILURE!! Ya moverfuckin' failure!"
Nagi let out a small whimper, the first sound he'd made since his father came home from the bar to find him staring with a blank expression out of the window where rain pounded outside.
The noise seemed to startle the unshaven drunk and he looked down at his son as if for the time that night. Really looked. And he saw a scared, lost, miserable child.
A single tear trickled down Nagi's cheek, barely visible in the dim yellow lamp light. Perhaps it was that that startled Nagi's father out of his drunken rage. For Nagi never cried. Never. He frowned, confused, obviously having trouble processing this information in his clouded mind.
A smile cracked his grizzled face and he set the shaken boy down. "It's solight, lil' man. I dun' know whas wrong, but it's soright." His eyes crinkled at the sides the way they used to do when his mother was still alive, making his whole face a mass of smile lines.
The kindness, if not confusion, in the man's voice almost made Nagi smile. Almost. But Nagi never smiled, not anymore. Not even when his father talked that way, reminding Nagi of the good times. The old, old, never come again times. And even now, he wasn't always like this. On good days he could even seem…loving. But it was all a lie, to Nagi. A lie he cherished and loved and clung to for sanity. And today was the worst day yet.
He father glanced at his watch, his brow furrowing in concentration as he attempted to read the time from its ticking hands.
"Ain't there summing ya' got to do?....ah, I remember, it's that show a' your. Hurry now, or you'll be late! Smile fo' me out there, Na…Nag…Na…son," he stuttered, trying to remember his son's name, but gave up. His mind was so hopeless clouded with drink. He finished with a staggeringly hard pat on the back and a, "Win daddy a fortune out there, Prodigy!"
//End Flashback//
I showed no outward signs of emotion as I replayed the drama of a few hours ago in my mind. I pride myself on that, because I couldn't let them see. I would never ever let them see.
'He couldn't even remember my name this time….That's bad, worst I've ever seen him, I think. Yeah. I always win you a fortune, dad, and you always go and spend it on your goddamn beer. Damn, I hate that awful stuff. The creator of alcohol should die. Probably already did, centuries ago. The creator of this damn show should die. I hate him, hate everyone here, I hate them all and I hate you, dad!… He will die. Tonight. Yeah, your Prodigy always wins you a fortune, doesn't he, daddy? And now he's going to fucking kill the man who provides that fortune. I'm going to kill him.'
Then the lady, some faceless makeup technician, told me she was done and the other kids and my "handler" as I secretly thought of her, told us it was time, and asked us if we were gonna do our best, another rhetorical question. I didn't bother to answer her. I had more important things to do than to deign her with a response, like murdering the producer of 'Kid Geniuses'.
And with that I walked out onto the brightly lit stage for the last time….
All done with part one. There will be a sequel. I plan this to be a short little series.
Tell me what you think and if you see any mistakes and I'll fix 'em. demonangel600@comcast.net