Story: Requiem For The Lost
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive.
Archives: fanfiction.net
Contact: lindsayw@gmx.net
~
You may never see their faces. . . never know their names. . . but the trials they've suffered will have existed no matter what. How could anyone care so little about the world as to believe that even a single life does not matter? Apathy is truly one of man's greatest evils. . .
~
"And in breaking news today, the Earth and colonies are shocked to hear of the terrorist attack on a private shuttle carrying Nassir Winner, the CEO of Winner Enterprises Inc, one of the wealthiest corporations in the Earth Sphere. While the true cause of such an attack is known, peacekeeping officials have declared the attack the work of a well-known anti-Oz terrorist group. Reasoning behind the attack on such a well-known pacifist is as of yet, unknown. Thanks to prompt support from the military, Mr. Winner has survived, however his five year old son Quatre, who was travelling with him has been reported as missing, and is believed to be dead."
~ ~ ~
The dry rustling sound of a discarded sheet of newspaper was the most vivid thing he knew. 'Blank Slate' wasn't exactly an appropriate term for his state of mind. After all, he wasn't an infant, and certainly not an innocent, though his pale blond hair and ocean colored eyes gave him the appearance of a young heavenly being. If he had been a true innocent, his eyes would not have held the dull glazed look of one who has seen hell, and fought their way back only to realize their world had been destroyed.
He was no innocent, even if his life had only begun hours ago to his knowledge. Already he had seen death. Upon waking with a sharp pain in his head, he remembered fire and screams. A wall crumbling. it had nearly fallen on him, and would have crushed his small body if he hadn't seen it just in time. Stumbling in search of an exit, he had seen the body of a woman. Green eyes had stared vacantly towards the ceiling, and a large wound on the side of her had matted pale brown hair with blood. Something - probably a piece of one of the walls - had broken open her head.
The smoke had choked the breath out of him, leaving behind a raw feeling when he breathed that lingered even now, hours later. His eyes still watered too, and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear away the itchy feeling that plagued them. It had been a miracle that he'd survived - more or less. He still couldn't be sure that he hadn't actually been born in that inferno. Of himself, nothing existed before it. The burning building, and his subsequent escape, were all that made up his past.
'Do I. have a name? I should - shouldn't I? But - I don't think I do. I don't think I have a family either. Wouldn't they have tried to save me? Maybe that woman was my mother - then she couldn't have saved me. Is my mother dead? Where's my father? Would he have tried to save me? What do I do now?'
His thoughts tumbled around aimlessly for an unknown period of time, as he tried to adjust to the reality that he was alone - and perhaps, had always been just that. Maybe he didn't even exist. Could you exist if there was no one to know you?
The newspaper he had been listening to brushed up against his foot, and he bent down to pick it up, aimlessly smoothing out the wrinkles in it. He had to exist. If he didn't, could he have picked up the paper? Imaginary people couldn't touch things. He was real. He was! He just - didn't have a name - that was all.
A scream rang out from an alley to his left, and his head jerked up sharply at the sound, pupils dilating with renewed awareness. Fear washed over him in a wave, and he scrambled to his feet, unsure of whether he should run away from the sound, or towards it in an effort to help whomever it was.
Biting his lower lip uncertainly, he allowed his feet to shuffle him forward, against his better instincts that screamed at him to run away. One step . . . then two . . . within less then a minute, his disobedient body had carried him to the edge of an alleyway. Cautiously, he peeked past the corner, and his eyes widened it shock and no small bit of fear at the scene that confronted him.
A boy perhaps his age, maybe a little older, with shaggy black hair was being held against the wall by a large meaty hand wrapped around his throat. He heels drummed weekly against the surface behind him, and small choked whimpers could be heard. The man pinning him was smiling maliciously, teeth shinning wetly in the dim smoke hazed light of the alley.
'What. . .' His mouth fell open as he silently tried to take in what was going on. 'That man - he - Oh no."
"So," The man growled to his captive in a low voice. "You and them kids with you decided to stop paying yer dues, did you? That's just too bad." He smiled, looking amused, and his free hand reached up to sweep back greasy looking hair. "Me an Rolf, we were thinking of givin you a nice little present - maybe, only half price with a little help for a task we had. But you had to go and spoil our great working re-lation-ship, eh?"
The man shifted his weight, pushing hard on the boy's neck, causing his small hands to reach up and claw at the greasy-haired man's larger ones. The unnamed boy watching winced in sympathy, and his thoughts danced furiously around, searching for an idea on what to do. "Now I'm not an unfair guy," the man continued in a falsely sincere purr. "I'm just a fella trying to make a livin. Me and me buddies, we've decided to let you go this time."
The boy's eyes widened, and a gleam of hope shone through. "But ya know," he continued. "We want a little extra sumthin in payment. We'll let ya run back to that little pack a' yours, but ya'd better take this message to yer pals. In one week, we want double the . . . 'rent money', and that little leader of yers is the one who'll de-liver it. My gang would like to have words with him."
Here, the gang member's other hand reached out to tangle itself in the boy's shaggy hair and yank it hard. "If ya don't pay up . . . we'll flush you and yer mates outa that hole like the pack a' rats ya are - do I make myself clear?" The boy nodded frantically, his eyes rolling back and forth in fear. "Good."
With amazing speed considering his size, the man released his hold on the smaller figure, smirking in triumph, as the child slumped down to the ground, breath coming in shuddering gasps as he curled himself into a huddling ball. As the man began to exit the alleyway, the blond haired boy who had been watching the proceedings looked around frantically for a hiding place. A fetid pile of trash caught his attention, and breathing shallowly, he burrowed into it, pulling greasy fast food wrappers, and grimy rags over his small body.
Heavy footsteps sounded not too far from him, and he held his breath. 'I'm not here.' He chanted silently. 'I'm not here; I'm not here I'mnotherenotherenothere . . .' The beat of the man's movement gradually faded away, and the child made his heart begin beating once more, forcing movement into limbs that had stiffened in fear.
As he scrambled out of the pile, he brushed hands down the front of the grey long sleeved shirt he wore, trying to wipe away stale crumbs and the awful smell that clung to them. Once again, the street was empty, showing no sign that a person had been there. With little thought, he made a decision, and crept cautiously away from the light of the street and over to the other boy's side.
"Are - " The words were hoarse from the smoke he had breathed in earlier, and a slight uncertainty of forming words that he couldn't remember learning. They came out in a breathy treble, and he opened and closed his mouth, trying to get used to the shape and sound of the words on his tongue. "Are you okay?"
The boy crouched in front of him jerked up at the sound, fixing him with dark brown eyes. "Yeah 'm fine. Justin's too stupid to do anything but threaten people anyways. They only sent him after me, 'cause they know I'm to small to fight back - doesn't mean I can't do anything though." His eyes narrowed defensively. "I haven't seen you 'round here before. You from G-sector or something? I wouldn't try moving in her 'f I were you. There's already too many gangs 'round. If you don't belong to one, you'll just as soon end up in a dumpster as some place with decent shelter - prolly more likely really."
The blond boy swallowed hard at the sudden questions, wondering how to answer. "I - I don't know where I'm from - or where I am." He said quietly, hoping the boy in front of him would accept the answer.
"What? You get lost or something? You're in E-sector kid."
"E-sector?"
The brown-eyed boy in front of him shook his head in exasperation, black hair flying in all directions. "Man, you really were sheltered, huh? You sure ain't no street rat - that's for sure. D'ya come from A-sector? I heard them higher ups live there, and kids from there don't know nothing 'bout the real world - no offence or nothing."
The street boy walked around him, examining him from all angles. "Ya sure are a scrawny one, eh? Clothes look like they used ta be nice - better watch out for that. Lots a' people wouldn't think twice 'bout stealing 'em - specially with you being so small." One hand reached up to his chin, and he rubbed it as though considering something. "What the heck - My names Bit, kid. Just Bit - no last name or nothin. S' not like they're common 'round here. D'ya got a name?"
"A name? No. . . I don't think so - I don't know." His eyes grew vague, as he dug through the few memories left to him. There was no luck. Everything that might have existed before the fire and the building had faded out of his mind. "I don't know." He repeated, sighing, and his shoulders slumped under the incredulous gaze of Bit.
"Well." Bit faded off, looking stumped. "You don't remember where you're from; you don't remember what your name is - You get knocked on the head recently or something?"
The nameless boy reached a hand up to feel his scalp. Just behind his left ear was a decent sized lump that ached when he touched it. "Maybe?" he offered tentatively. "I don't remember." A startled laughed caused him to stare at the older boy in surprise. "Bit? What-?"
"Sorry, sorry," the black haired boy waved him off. "S' just, it's rather funny hearing that come from you. You prolly wouldn't 'member that, if you don't know your own name. I heard of cases like this. Jo - friend o' mine - told me how his Ma hit herself on the head once afore she died and he came to live with us. Says that she couldn't remember the craziest things, like what birthdays was, for a few months after. Called it 'amesa' or something - I bet that's what happened to you."
"So - I might remember something else later then?" A trickle of hope spread through him at the thought that he would have to live this nameless existence forever. A month was such a very long time though. . . he knew that much - But at least it wasn't a year! That would have been forever! He could never have waited that long.
"Sure kid," Bit replied. "Don' know how long It'll take, but like as not, something'll come back to you. Got a place to stay till then?"
"N- no. . ." The blond boy considered his options. He could stay around here - but considering the way Bit had been grabbed by that awful smelling man for 'rent money' - whatever that was - it probably wasn't safe right around here. He didn't think he would be particularly welcome in someone else's home either, now that he smelled faintly of the garbage he had been hiding in.
"Well then, you'll come with me kid. I'll take you to Duo - he'll say whether or not you can stay with us. Little thing like you prolly couldn't defend yourself on the streets anyway - 'specially seein how you hit your head an all." The slightly older boy began walking off, and he waved his hand for the other to follow.
The nameless boy felt a small smile tug at his lips as he felt his luck turning up. Skittering after Bit with quick steps, he decided not to comment on his new friends similar size.
~ ~
TBC
~ ~ ~
AN: Okay folks, this story has been in the planning stages since last spring, so even though I'm shuddering at the idea of another project to take on, I have to admit that it's not exactly new, or spur of the moment.
Anyways, you can probably guess who the main character is already. *reads character description at beginning of chapter* Uh. . . you can, right? The other main character in the story. well lets just say that a certain braided someone will be introduced soon. ^_^
For those of you following Shadowed Tears, and getting irritated with the long wait for an update - Don't Worry! I'm am working very hard on getting it completed, and have it about half finished, with the rest of the chapter planned out - there's just been a minor snag in the details of a certain scene, but I'm trying to get it worked out and posted as soon as humanly possible.
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive.
Archives: fanfiction.net
Contact: lindsayw@gmx.net
~
You may never see their faces. . . never know their names. . . but the trials they've suffered will have existed no matter what. How could anyone care so little about the world as to believe that even a single life does not matter? Apathy is truly one of man's greatest evils. . .
~
"And in breaking news today, the Earth and colonies are shocked to hear of the terrorist attack on a private shuttle carrying Nassir Winner, the CEO of Winner Enterprises Inc, one of the wealthiest corporations in the Earth Sphere. While the true cause of such an attack is known, peacekeeping officials have declared the attack the work of a well-known anti-Oz terrorist group. Reasoning behind the attack on such a well-known pacifist is as of yet, unknown. Thanks to prompt support from the military, Mr. Winner has survived, however his five year old son Quatre, who was travelling with him has been reported as missing, and is believed to be dead."
~ ~ ~
The dry rustling sound of a discarded sheet of newspaper was the most vivid thing he knew. 'Blank Slate' wasn't exactly an appropriate term for his state of mind. After all, he wasn't an infant, and certainly not an innocent, though his pale blond hair and ocean colored eyes gave him the appearance of a young heavenly being. If he had been a true innocent, his eyes would not have held the dull glazed look of one who has seen hell, and fought their way back only to realize their world had been destroyed.
He was no innocent, even if his life had only begun hours ago to his knowledge. Already he had seen death. Upon waking with a sharp pain in his head, he remembered fire and screams. A wall crumbling. it had nearly fallen on him, and would have crushed his small body if he hadn't seen it just in time. Stumbling in search of an exit, he had seen the body of a woman. Green eyes had stared vacantly towards the ceiling, and a large wound on the side of her had matted pale brown hair with blood. Something - probably a piece of one of the walls - had broken open her head.
The smoke had choked the breath out of him, leaving behind a raw feeling when he breathed that lingered even now, hours later. His eyes still watered too, and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear away the itchy feeling that plagued them. It had been a miracle that he'd survived - more or less. He still couldn't be sure that he hadn't actually been born in that inferno. Of himself, nothing existed before it. The burning building, and his subsequent escape, were all that made up his past.
'Do I. have a name? I should - shouldn't I? But - I don't think I do. I don't think I have a family either. Wouldn't they have tried to save me? Maybe that woman was my mother - then she couldn't have saved me. Is my mother dead? Where's my father? Would he have tried to save me? What do I do now?'
His thoughts tumbled around aimlessly for an unknown period of time, as he tried to adjust to the reality that he was alone - and perhaps, had always been just that. Maybe he didn't even exist. Could you exist if there was no one to know you?
The newspaper he had been listening to brushed up against his foot, and he bent down to pick it up, aimlessly smoothing out the wrinkles in it. He had to exist. If he didn't, could he have picked up the paper? Imaginary people couldn't touch things. He was real. He was! He just - didn't have a name - that was all.
A scream rang out from an alley to his left, and his head jerked up sharply at the sound, pupils dilating with renewed awareness. Fear washed over him in a wave, and he scrambled to his feet, unsure of whether he should run away from the sound, or towards it in an effort to help whomever it was.
Biting his lower lip uncertainly, he allowed his feet to shuffle him forward, against his better instincts that screamed at him to run away. One step . . . then two . . . within less then a minute, his disobedient body had carried him to the edge of an alleyway. Cautiously, he peeked past the corner, and his eyes widened it shock and no small bit of fear at the scene that confronted him.
A boy perhaps his age, maybe a little older, with shaggy black hair was being held against the wall by a large meaty hand wrapped around his throat. He heels drummed weekly against the surface behind him, and small choked whimpers could be heard. The man pinning him was smiling maliciously, teeth shinning wetly in the dim smoke hazed light of the alley.
'What. . .' His mouth fell open as he silently tried to take in what was going on. 'That man - he - Oh no."
"So," The man growled to his captive in a low voice. "You and them kids with you decided to stop paying yer dues, did you? That's just too bad." He smiled, looking amused, and his free hand reached up to sweep back greasy looking hair. "Me an Rolf, we were thinking of givin you a nice little present - maybe, only half price with a little help for a task we had. But you had to go and spoil our great working re-lation-ship, eh?"
The man shifted his weight, pushing hard on the boy's neck, causing his small hands to reach up and claw at the greasy-haired man's larger ones. The unnamed boy watching winced in sympathy, and his thoughts danced furiously around, searching for an idea on what to do. "Now I'm not an unfair guy," the man continued in a falsely sincere purr. "I'm just a fella trying to make a livin. Me and me buddies, we've decided to let you go this time."
The boy's eyes widened, and a gleam of hope shone through. "But ya know," he continued. "We want a little extra sumthin in payment. We'll let ya run back to that little pack a' yours, but ya'd better take this message to yer pals. In one week, we want double the . . . 'rent money', and that little leader of yers is the one who'll de-liver it. My gang would like to have words with him."
Here, the gang member's other hand reached out to tangle itself in the boy's shaggy hair and yank it hard. "If ya don't pay up . . . we'll flush you and yer mates outa that hole like the pack a' rats ya are - do I make myself clear?" The boy nodded frantically, his eyes rolling back and forth in fear. "Good."
With amazing speed considering his size, the man released his hold on the smaller figure, smirking in triumph, as the child slumped down to the ground, breath coming in shuddering gasps as he curled himself into a huddling ball. As the man began to exit the alleyway, the blond haired boy who had been watching the proceedings looked around frantically for a hiding place. A fetid pile of trash caught his attention, and breathing shallowly, he burrowed into it, pulling greasy fast food wrappers, and grimy rags over his small body.
Heavy footsteps sounded not too far from him, and he held his breath. 'I'm not here.' He chanted silently. 'I'm not here; I'm not here I'mnotherenotherenothere . . .' The beat of the man's movement gradually faded away, and the child made his heart begin beating once more, forcing movement into limbs that had stiffened in fear.
As he scrambled out of the pile, he brushed hands down the front of the grey long sleeved shirt he wore, trying to wipe away stale crumbs and the awful smell that clung to them. Once again, the street was empty, showing no sign that a person had been there. With little thought, he made a decision, and crept cautiously away from the light of the street and over to the other boy's side.
"Are - " The words were hoarse from the smoke he had breathed in earlier, and a slight uncertainty of forming words that he couldn't remember learning. They came out in a breathy treble, and he opened and closed his mouth, trying to get used to the shape and sound of the words on his tongue. "Are you okay?"
The boy crouched in front of him jerked up at the sound, fixing him with dark brown eyes. "Yeah 'm fine. Justin's too stupid to do anything but threaten people anyways. They only sent him after me, 'cause they know I'm to small to fight back - doesn't mean I can't do anything though." His eyes narrowed defensively. "I haven't seen you 'round here before. You from G-sector or something? I wouldn't try moving in her 'f I were you. There's already too many gangs 'round. If you don't belong to one, you'll just as soon end up in a dumpster as some place with decent shelter - prolly more likely really."
The blond boy swallowed hard at the sudden questions, wondering how to answer. "I - I don't know where I'm from - or where I am." He said quietly, hoping the boy in front of him would accept the answer.
"What? You get lost or something? You're in E-sector kid."
"E-sector?"
The brown-eyed boy in front of him shook his head in exasperation, black hair flying in all directions. "Man, you really were sheltered, huh? You sure ain't no street rat - that's for sure. D'ya come from A-sector? I heard them higher ups live there, and kids from there don't know nothing 'bout the real world - no offence or nothing."
The street boy walked around him, examining him from all angles. "Ya sure are a scrawny one, eh? Clothes look like they used ta be nice - better watch out for that. Lots a' people wouldn't think twice 'bout stealing 'em - specially with you being so small." One hand reached up to his chin, and he rubbed it as though considering something. "What the heck - My names Bit, kid. Just Bit - no last name or nothin. S' not like they're common 'round here. D'ya got a name?"
"A name? No. . . I don't think so - I don't know." His eyes grew vague, as he dug through the few memories left to him. There was no luck. Everything that might have existed before the fire and the building had faded out of his mind. "I don't know." He repeated, sighing, and his shoulders slumped under the incredulous gaze of Bit.
"Well." Bit faded off, looking stumped. "You don't remember where you're from; you don't remember what your name is - You get knocked on the head recently or something?"
The nameless boy reached a hand up to feel his scalp. Just behind his left ear was a decent sized lump that ached when he touched it. "Maybe?" he offered tentatively. "I don't remember." A startled laughed caused him to stare at the older boy in surprise. "Bit? What-?"
"Sorry, sorry," the black haired boy waved him off. "S' just, it's rather funny hearing that come from you. You prolly wouldn't 'member that, if you don't know your own name. I heard of cases like this. Jo - friend o' mine - told me how his Ma hit herself on the head once afore she died and he came to live with us. Says that she couldn't remember the craziest things, like what birthdays was, for a few months after. Called it 'amesa' or something - I bet that's what happened to you."
"So - I might remember something else later then?" A trickle of hope spread through him at the thought that he would have to live this nameless existence forever. A month was such a very long time though. . . he knew that much - But at least it wasn't a year! That would have been forever! He could never have waited that long.
"Sure kid," Bit replied. "Don' know how long It'll take, but like as not, something'll come back to you. Got a place to stay till then?"
"N- no. . ." The blond boy considered his options. He could stay around here - but considering the way Bit had been grabbed by that awful smelling man for 'rent money' - whatever that was - it probably wasn't safe right around here. He didn't think he would be particularly welcome in someone else's home either, now that he smelled faintly of the garbage he had been hiding in.
"Well then, you'll come with me kid. I'll take you to Duo - he'll say whether or not you can stay with us. Little thing like you prolly couldn't defend yourself on the streets anyway - 'specially seein how you hit your head an all." The slightly older boy began walking off, and he waved his hand for the other to follow.
The nameless boy felt a small smile tug at his lips as he felt his luck turning up. Skittering after Bit with quick steps, he decided not to comment on his new friends similar size.
~ ~
TBC
~ ~ ~
AN: Okay folks, this story has been in the planning stages since last spring, so even though I'm shuddering at the idea of another project to take on, I have to admit that it's not exactly new, or spur of the moment.
Anyways, you can probably guess who the main character is already. *reads character description at beginning of chapter* Uh. . . you can, right? The other main character in the story. well lets just say that a certain braided someone will be introduced soon. ^_^
For those of you following Shadowed Tears, and getting irritated with the long wait for an update - Don't Worry! I'm am working very hard on getting it completed, and have it about half finished, with the rest of the chapter planned out - there's just been a minor snag in the details of a certain scene, but I'm trying to get it worked out and posted as soon as humanly possible.