Revenge Is Best Served Cold
By RadioactiveSquirl
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of the characters in the show or manga. However, all the original characters in this story are mine to use and abuse. I own them. Leave them alone. The plot is mine too. Leave it alone also. They are not yours; they are mine. But, once again, DBZ and Dr. Gero, Androids 17 and 18, and Goku are NOT mine.
Author's Note For First Time Readers: Just to clear some things up first, Part One is NOT about #17 and #18!! It explains the origins of a character that is in the rest of the story. It's still important that you read it though
Author's Note For Returning Readers: Okay, here's the deal: if you are a returning reader, PAY ATTENTION!!!! If this is your first time reading this, then you can just skip this and start reading the story. I have reformatted the story and combined certain sections to how they are supposed to be I messed up the first time. I have also fixed spelling and grammar errors and mistakes in word definitions (mostly the whole word "android"); I just basically explained things better and in a little more detail. Sorry if I have caused you any inconvenience. Thanks for bearing with me, though!! Enjoy!
Part One: Nano Prent
1: Run
Planning the escape was one of the funnest aspects of it, because my mother didn't know anything about it. The other part was the actual escape.
One night, after she had locked me in the basement as usual, I decided I was sick and tired of all the beatings she gave me day in and day out. Most of the cuts, bruises, and broken bones had healed. But my rage and loathing grew each day. I decided I would escape. I would steal one of her metal nail files (the kind she usually stabbed me with). Then, when she locked me up and went to sleep, I would sharpen it on a shard of stone, that I had found the other day, that had broken off of the floor in the corner of my room, the basement. I didn't know where to go from there, but it was a start. Maybe I would pick the lock.
I found what I needed the next day. That night, I sat in the middle of the basement floor. The stone floor was cold as a result of the fact that there was no glass on the window. I closed my eyes. I let the darkness engulf me. I became part of the darkness. I thought of the past ten years of my life. The ten years of beatings and being told how worthless I was. Being told I was a mistake; this was why I wanted to leave. I hated her; my own mother. I remembered six years ago, when my father died. I was four years old. My mother killed him. I don't remember exactly why. All I remembered was them getting into a fight. They were in the kitchen. They were arguing over something and yelling at each other. My mother got mad and grabbed a knife and slit his throat. He never screamed or begged her to put the knife down. I remembered thinking that was how I wanted to die; without screaming or begging for mercy. When my mother saw that I had watched her kill my father, she grabbed me and threatened me to never tell anyone what I saw. Then she went over to my dead father's corpse and cut off his arm. She chopped it up into tiny pieces and threw them into a pan. She then cooked it and forced me to eat it. I chocked and gagged as I forced myself to swallow. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. My mother slapped me when I gagged and asked why I didn't like her cooking. She called me an ingrate for not appreciating being fed and asked if I would be happier with no food. I smiled and told her that no food was what I usually had anyway. She kicked me in the face and threw me against the wall cursing at me. She threatened to kill me. She told me that if I ever did tell anyone that she had killed my father, then I would have to tell them that I had eaten his flesh. I shuddered as I remembered how my mother had screamed and cried to the police to cover herself up when she told them that someone had murdered my father. Of course, she didn't tell them that it was her. I didn't cry for my father because I knew he wouldn't want me to. He was never mean or abusive to me like my mother was, but he never tried to stop her from hurting me. He only ever spoke a few words to me in my whole life.
All he said was, "Be strong. Never Cry, it'll only give her the satisfaction of hurting you and it will only encourage her."
I didn't know what he meant at the time, but I never cried from that point on. I always tried to be strong. It has helped me. If I wasn't strong, then she would have probably killed me somehow. I knew my father wanted me to have better than what I had. I could see it in his eyes. But he was afraid of my mother. She knew it too. That was part of the reason why she hurt me. I didn't know what the other reason was. Maybe she truly hated me. Maybe she was insane. Who knows?
I sat there deciding if I should really go or not. I suddenly cursed myself for hesitating. Of course I wanted to leave this wretched place. I opened my eyes. Accustomed to the dark, they darted about the room as if the walls would show me how to get out of the clod, dark memories that this basement held. My eyes flickered passed the barred window. Of course! The window! I stood with my stone-sharpened metal nail file. I sauntered over to the window and started sawing away at one of the five bars. After about an hour, the bar I was working on popped loose. I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. If I cut through at least three bars, I would be able to fit through the window. I calculated the amount of time it would take me to get out. About two more hours. I took off again sawing at the bars again. My hands grew tired and raw after a while. I stopped only to sharpen the nail file and to pop the accumulating blisters developing on my hands. After a what seemed like ten years, the third bar let loose. I gave a sigh of relief and plopped down on the floor. My heart beat wildly. I rubbed my bloody, sore hands together to loosen my muscles. I sat there for a minute or so to catch my breath. I hadn't worked my small arms that hard in my life. All I needed to do was climb out of the window. Then I would be free. I stood and took one last look around the room. So dark and dreary. I couldn't believe how I had let my mother lock me up in there each night of my life so I wouldn't try to escape. I almost smiled at how stupid I had been not to think of leaving sooner, and for how stupid she was to have underestimated me. I hit my head and sighed again. I grabbed hold of the windowsill and lifted myself through the glass-less window. I squeezed through without much trouble since I was so thin from being starved half my life. I had done exercises every night before I went to sleep to keep strong and fit. I landed on the ground with a loud thud. I quickly looked around to make sure my mother hadn't heard. No lights went on. No angry faces peeked out of the upstairs windows. I let go of my held breath in relief. I looked around the area. I breathed in the brisk night outside air. I realized I had never been outside before. The slight breeze felt good on my face. It was the best feeling I had ever felt. Outside. I liked it.
I was in an alley. It was dark. The walls were covered in moss. There were muddy puddles everywhere. There were two overgrown, unkempt, ugly bushes on the side of one of the walls. A dim streetlamp glowed in the distance. I stood there for a moment not knowing what to do. I figured I should probably get away from that blasted house as fast as possible, so I picked a direction and started walking. The alley was very long and lonely. I saw a few rats and cockroaches scurry into the cracks of the walls at the sound of my footsteps. I stopped to look around just to make sure that it was real; that it wasn't all just a dream. I heard some faint footsteps come to an abrupt halt behind me. I turned around. In the shadows I saw a figure dressed in black. The distant streetlamp didn't give off too much light, so I couldn't see the figure too well. The person stepped out from the shadows.
"You saw me," he said.
I just stared at him. "What do you want?" I asked.
"Only whatever money or valuable possessions you just so happen to have at the moment."
I shook my head. "I have none," I explained, confused at his objective.
"Yeah right." He pulled out a gun. "Now be good and you won't get hurt. all right little girl?" He took a few steps forward with his gun pointed at me.
Not thinking, I launched myself at him in fury and confusion at his trying to stop me and rob me, though I had nothing. I knocked him onto the ground and jammed my knee into his stomach, something I sometimes did to my mother when I was really mad at her. He yelped in pain and spit in my face. I wiped off his saliva with my hands. Dropping his gun, he grabbed my arms and tried to throw me off. Without knowing what else to do, I bit his cheek as hard as I could. He screamed and dug his fingernails into my skin. I bit even harder, tasting his salty blood in my mouth. I let go of his face and kneed him in the stomach again. As he released my arms to nurse his face, I got up and ran over to where he had dropped his gun. I picked it up and pointed it at him. He stopped his scrambling and held up one hand in surrender and used the other to hold his bleeding cheek. I could feel the blood running down my arms from where he had dug his nails into.
"Stay put!" I told him. "Stay where you are and don't follow me, and, and I won't shoot you." My hands shook and I realized I didn't know how to use the gun. 'But he doesn't know that,' I thought. I was scared. I stared at the man. I could see that he was trembling and scared too. He didn't look very old. Probably only fifteen years old. Still only a boy. With his height and deep voice, he could pass for someone of late twenties or early thirties.
When I saw that he wasn't going to make any sudden movements or pleas for mercy, I slowly backed away. Then I turned and ran. This wasn't turning out like I had expected. I didn't know what to expect, but certainly not this. 'If my own mother and some random stranger were so cruel to me, then perhaps the whole world is,' I thought.
The world around me started to spin as I ran, faster and faster. Just then, I heard two gunshots. After the first gunshot, I felt something hit my back so hard and with so much pain that I fell down and lay stunned in blistering agony. After the second gunshot, I heard the familiar sound of the boy's scream. 'What a coward', I thought. 'He screamed as he died.' Then, the world went black.
* * *
Drip, drip, drip. The sound of dripping water was the first thing I noticed as I regained consciousness. Next I regained my sense of smell. No...that wasn't water dripping, it was blood. I could recognize its smell. I still couldn't feel yet, but it sounded close by. 'My blood,' I figured. I opened my eyes. I saw a man standing over me with a knife. He was cutting open a pocket in the skin of my right arm. Even though I couldn't feel anything from my shoulders down, the sight sickened me. I wanted to vomit, but I didn't have the energy. I looked at the man standing over me cutting my arm open. He was definitely not the robber boy from last night. This man was older. Much older. He looked about sixty or so. He glanced over at me.
"So, you are awake, little one," he said.
"Yes," I tried to mumble, but it came out as a moan.
"You are probably wondering what you are doing here and why I am cutting your arm open, aren't you?"
I nodded, sort of dazed.
"Do you want me to tell you?"
I nodded again.
"I will tell you later."
I gave and exasperated groan. 'How typical,' I thought. 'First, I spend several hours sawing at bars with a nail file. Then, I get attacked by some random stranger. Then I'm shot by only Heaven knows who, and now I'm lying here with some strange old man cutting into my arm, and he won't even tell me why.' I sighed at the thought.
I looked over at my arm. The man was finished cutting the pocket. Now he was wiping away the excess blood and putting a small disk into the pocket. Then he proceeded to sew my arm back up. I watched in amazement as the needle went in and out of my bloody skin and I didn't feel a thing. I noticed the scabs on my arms from earlier. I scowled at the thought of that boy.
The old man suddenly spoke. "He's dead."
"Who? How?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"That young boy who shot you. Poor fool."
'So that was what hit me,' I thought. 'A bullet. He must've had two guns then.' I was too tired to make my mind process the information into sense.
"Go back to sleep," the old man instructed. "I will give you more information in the morning when you wake up. But for now, get some rest."
I hesitated for a moment, but I figured that since I had no idea as to where I was or how to leave, I should listen to the man. I didn't have anything else to lose. I relaxed and closed my eyes. I could feel feeling returning to the rest of my body. I opened on eye to find the old man gone. My arm and back hurt. The severe pain was unbelievable. I breathed in through my teeth as the old man walked back into the room with an hypodermic needle.
"Hurts, doesn't it? Well, this shot should kill the pain enough so you can get some decent rest."
I felt the needle prick into my skin and felt the liquid spread like a ripple in a pond throughout my body. The pain quickly subsided. I felt myself relaxing again and falling asleep. I closed my eyes. The hard, cushion-less, pillow-less bed I was laying on wasn't very comfortable, but it was better than the hard, cold, stone floor in the basement of my mother's house. At least the bed was warm. I heard the click of a lightswitch and felt the room grow dark. I let the darkness soothe me and calm my jumping senses. I slowly drifted into a quiet, peaceful, long-wanted, dreamless sleep.
2: Fall
I woke up. The pain had left me. I sat up and moved my arm. My muscles were tense. I examined my arm. No marks of the stitches or disk embedded in my skin were visible. Was last night even real? I rubbed my eyes. I looked around the room. Nope. It was real alright. I stood from the bed. Bed? I didn't fall asleep in a real bed. I had been moved to a bed in an entirely different room while I was sleeping. I studied my hands and arms again. All my wounds were gone. The dirt was gone too. I was clean and was wearing new clothes; a white tank top with a denim jacket and black jeans with a red-orange bandanna tied around my arm. I studied the room more closely. It looked similar to the other room. White, windowless walls. Only this room was more... cozy. I saw a mirror. I walked across the room to it. I looked at my hair. It was clean too, but... different. Instead of waist long and light brown, it was cropped short except for one lock of hair on both sides of my head. For the most part, my hair was now black. The locks were a dark purple-blue. I gasped in surprise. 'Who... why?' I thought. I ran my fingers through my hair. It wasn't that bad anyway. I kinda liked it. At least I wasn't bald. It could've been worse that way. I made a pouty face in the mirror. It looked funny. I made a different face. It was funny too. I laughed and made some more faces.
"Ahem," a voice said.
I turned around, startled.
"Making friends with the mirror?" it was the old man from last night.
I felt my face redden and I looked down in embarrassment.
"So, what do you think of your hair?"
"It's, uhh, interesting... I like it."
"Good, good. Would you like to eat something?"
Eat? Food? Of course! My eyes lit up and I nodded furiously.
"Well then m'lass, let us eat." He led me out of the room.
After I had settled down eating some pancakes and doughnuts I started with the many questions I had.
"So, uh, who are you? Why'd you save me? This food isn't poisoned is it? Whaddya want with me?" I asked with bits of food flying out of my mouth.
I dabbed it up and continued to wolf the food down greedily while the old man answered. "My name is Dr. Gero. I have my reasons for saving you. No, the food is not poisoned, and you will find out soon enough what I want with you. Now, is there more, or can I ask you some questions?"
I swallowed a mouthful of syrupy pancake and nodded. " Go ahead."
"Alright. What's your name little girl?" The way he asked it was weird. It was like the answer didn't really matter to him, but he asked it anyway.
"Nano. Nano Prent."
"Nano, eh? As in nano-second?"
"Yeah, whatever," I muttered between gulps of orange juice. "Hey. What was up with that disky thingy you put in my arm an all the cutting and stuff last night, huh?"
"Last night? That was a week ago."
I dropped my fork. "A WEEK?! I was out for a week? Geeze! What was in that injection? What else did you do to me?"
Dr. Gero chuckled evilly. "Haven't you noticed anything different about yourself, besides your hair?"
Come to think of it, my weight seemed heavier than before. I let my hand relax and it dropped like a dead bird shot on a cold day. I picked up my orange juice glass and squeezed it. It shattered instantly, leaving my hand sticky and wet. I looked up at Dr. Gero, puzzled and scared.
He laughed again, not caring about my fear.
"What did you do to me?!" I shrieked.
"Nothing really. Merely encased your bones with metal so they are unbreakable, and extracted half of your blood and replaced them with circuts and wires among other things." he replied.
"What?! You took out all my blood and turned me into Inspector Gadget and you say it's nothing?"
"Not all of your blood. Only half of it. And you're not quite Inspector Gadget. I have greater things in store for you than that."
"Well, why didn't you just take out all of my blood and get it over with, huh?!"
"You still need some blood, because you still have your heart and your heart needs blood . Soon enough, I will extract both. I am not done with you yet."
I lost my appetite. I suddenly felt nausious. I leaned over and vomited.
He just laughed. "You don't need to eat because you don't need food as fuel anymore. You only felt hungry because you are still part human."
"What... what d'you mean?" I asked.
"You are now an experiment. A cyborg in the making. If your transformation is successfull, then I will make many more like you. All for the soul purpose of killing my greatest enemy. Except for you. You will help me with my creations."
"A cyborg?"
"Yes. Cyborg. Android. Artifitial Human. Whatever you want to call yourself, although Android and Artificial Human would be incorrect. A cyborg is a human with implanted or added metal and machine parts. And android is a being made completely out of metal and machinery. But Android sounds better, don't you think? So let's just stick with that, eh? What would you prefer to be called?."
"Nano," I said. "I want to call myself Nano. I am too human! I will not be your android."
"No, no child. It is too late. You are no longer human at all, but now my creation; my experiment. And the name 'Nano' just won't do for an android. An android doesn't deserve a real name. A simple number will do just fine. Since you are my first, my trial and experiment, you shall be called 'Zero'."
"No! You cannot take away my name! Zero is just the same as being called Worthless or Stupid." I said, thinking of how my mother called me thoes names. "No, I will always have a name. It will always be Nano. Call me what you want, but I will always know that I have a real name."
"Wrong. But in one way you are correct. As of now, you are worthless. But later on you might be worth something, if you prove yourself to be. I shall erase your memory of your name and past. That way you will not bother me with this 'I have a name' nonesense."
Erase my memories. Hmm. That didn't sound too bad... I didn't want to remember my past anyway. If he erased my memory, then it wouldn't matter what my name was. Nano Prent was the name of my weak abused self. The name of that pathetic fool who let her mother throw her around like a dirty sock. In becoming an android, I could be strong. "Alright," I confirmed. "Do it."
"Are you sure?" Dr. Gero asked, startled at my sudden agreement. He smiled evilly again when I nodded yes. "Then I will complete your new self."
* * *
I stood shakily under the machine that would erase my past and set my future in motion. Did I really want this? Did I really want to have my humanity, memories, and name taken away from me? It was too late now. As an android, death would not come easily for me. I wouldn't age physically. I would be forever young. Dr. Gero promised that I would have great power and strength. I would learn how to use it and show people that I wasn't worthless and weak. I could hear the hum of the machine starting up. I closed my eyes. Dr. Gero was saying something, but I couldn't hear distinctly. I had lost myself in the hum and vibration of the machine. Soon, I would be an indestructable machine too. 'Do I seem small and helpless now, mother? Do I? Do I?' I could forget my horrible past and my mother and the beatings... and... and...