Conditioning of a Killer
The first time Nicholas killed, it was a girl. The masters said it was going to be either her or him, and he would rather it be not him. All he remembered was crimson bled onto everything in an isolated room, more his than hers, and that a spine crunches sickeningly when a knife gets shoved between the vertebrae discs. He suspected he passed out before they came in to assess his kill.
The victim of his second kill was actually a target, an old water baron who refused to expire despite a degenerating health. No challenge existed in that exercise at all, but the objective remained the same. Kill or be killed; if not by his target, then for failing. Again, Nicholas made that decision.
The third time was less chaotic, more organized. He got a little training by then, knew how to assemble and dissemble a semi-automatic in 15 seconds, and where to shoot to take a man down fastest. That wasn't hard to learn, shoot both the head and the heart, but head first because nobody had a bullet proof head. The seventh man gifted him a bullet in the leg to cement that lesson. He returned the gift doubled in weight into the man's head.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth all came as a package deal in the form of a family. There was no longer a question of to be or not to be, but simplified to a matter of 'How?' That was a mess. His gun jammed after killing the main couple and he clobered the brother to death with a footstool. Blood was everywhere again, all theirs and none of his, and it soaked thoroughly into his clothes. The masters decided to add more black to his outfit after that.
He handled a .42 caliber machine gun for the first time in his seventh and eigth kills. It was conveniently placed by the military truck. The masters discovered his proficiency for large weapons after that, and training steered towards heavier gear. Machine guns, rocket launchers, he trained in everything they had on hand. The masters liked what they saw, and discussions for a new weapon design went underway.
The ninth one was a woman, one the masters didn't even know about. Nicholas met her at a seedy bar that played cheesy atmospheric music but served their alcohol nice and strong. She had walked up to him in an attempt to seduce him. In return, he thought it was fun to allow himself to be seduced, and willingly drank in her cheap perfume until she pulled a gun on him. He shot first and left the bar to never return there again. He developed a taste for stronger liquor.
They bestowed upon him the Punisher cross, a weapon that encompassed all his best skills. Later, in private, he used it to shoot the master who also owned the last model of that weapon. Took up his name. Stole his identity. Added in smoking too because he wouldn't live long enough to get cancer anyway.
Nicholas graduated himself with his tenth kill.
He was only 15.
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AN: This short piece just came over me one day while sitting in the library waiting for a friend. It always bothered me how young he was despite how old he looks (though questionable on the 'acts' part). After writing this, I guess it just really brought it home.
Trigun and Wolfwood belong to Yashiro Nightow, and I'm just reviving them here because Nightow obviously wouldn't. No ownership of anything except sandboxing creativity.