Bardzo Mi Przykro
by: Niebezpiczny Ksiezyc
Part One: W Która Strone Pójodziemy?
(Which Way Shall We Go?)
After the final battle of the Endless Waltz was slowly completed, five young men had to prepare themselves for new battles in which they could never truly win. Their new mission: How to live "normal" lives. No more fights, no more battles, no more Gundams. One man in particular was sure to have the most difficulties coping with this new lifestyle. Every story of life has its heroes, its villains and its martyrs. Interesting how one person can become all three. A hero to the thousands of people whom he saved. A villain to all whom he turned a cold shoulder upon. And a martyr, the symbol of the greed and hatred of men, trained to do their bidding without a conscious thought of its consequences.
So began the new life of Heero Yuy. To the thousands of people who passed him as he walking along the crowded city streets, he was a nameless entity, without a past, without a future. But to a select few, he was the perfect soldier. However, the perfect soldier does not make for an effective introduction when looking for an apartment or a job. No one wants to hire or house a murderer. So Heero sloughed off the title that took him the entire first part of his young life to gain, and tried to assimilate into society.
Large drops of rain poured from the black skies unto the unruly hair belonging to none other than Heero Yuy. The few people brave or rather stupid enough to be on the street in the middle of night, ran to seek shelter from the cold water. Heero merely ignored the foolish men and women running from the rain. With he sigh, he asked himself if it really hurt to be that stupid? He shook his head and continued to slowly trek down the street, once again absorbed in his thoughts. He was often seen wandering down the streets of the city at night, always alone, always walking quietly. This was the only time when Heero could sort through the millions of thoughts that slowly began to torture his brain. The "what ifs" soon began to consume his thinking. What if he hadn't found Relena in time? What if he had died in his Gundam? What if he failed his missions? He shook his head again, trying to shake the mordant thoughts from his brain. But they would not leave. Nothing he did aided his battle against his mind.
Heero, seeking relief began to run down the street. The first couple of miles felt like nothing to the highly trained Heero Yuy. However, after a couple of hours of running, he legs burned from the build up of lactic acid and his lungs ached for more oxygen. Yet he did not stop running, running physically and running from his thoughts. He soon found the relief he had been waiting for. His head felt light and the scenery along side of his path began to blur. His legs no longer ached, but ceased to exist to his brain. The runner's high was kicking in full swing, he didn't feel any pain, not even any pain from his thoughts. He ran, pushing his body farther to punish it for its flaws and giving way to useless thoughts and emotions. He soon came to a small park outside of the city. His body, deprived of oxygen and energy, collapsed onto the muddy ground.
"You let me die Heero. You saw that I needed help, but you let me die anyway. You couldn't save me Heero. Why couldn't you save me?"
"I tried to save you. There was nothing more that I could do!"
"How can you lie to me Heero? You didn't even try to save me. Why can't you help me? Please help me Heero, I'm in so much pain! Please save me!"
Heero reached out to grab the small hand of the young boy whose face was twisted in agony. He looked so familiar to Heero, but Heero could not figure out the identity of the young boy. "Here, grab my hand! I won't fail this time! I won't fail! Let me save you!" Heero made one last attempt to reach for the boy's outstretched hand, but when Heero came close to touching his finger tips, the boy's hand turned into a thick, congealed bloody liquid. "Noooo!"
"Nooo!" Heero screamed again. He looked down at his hands and was horrified at what he saw. He hands were covered with thick, dark mud. He was squeezing his mud filled hands so hard that his blood began to mix with the dark glops of earth. "Damn it!" He pounded the soggy ground until he felt his four of his knuckles brake. "He slowly say up and tried to take deep breaths in hopes of returning his heart rate to normal. "It was only a dream," he said, "it was only a dream." The next fifteen minutes passed slowly as Heero sat on the wet ground, too stunned to move. Who was that young boy? Why did he look so familiar? A loud rumble from his empty stomach brings his mind back to reality. Heero took one more deep breath before struggling to stand up. He winced as pain shot through both of his legs. "Hmm...maybe I should remember to stretch the next time I decide to go for a run" Heero dryly claimed to himself as he began to stretch and pull his sore leg muscles. The ominous growl from his stomach once again warned the former pilot that he needed to return home and eat. Heero tore part of his shirt and wrapped his bloody and broken hands in the wet cloth.
Five hours later, Heero stumbled into his apartment. He limped into the kitchen to begin his search for food. Without bothering to wash his muddy and blood drenched hands, he grabbed an apple that sat on the kitchen table. He hungrily sank his teeth into the sweet flesh of the apple, and felt some energy returning to his body. After rapidly consuming the fruit, he reached for another, but abruptly stopped after adverting his gaze upwards. His blue eyes filled with horror and terror as he observed the single most terrifying sight in his young life.
by: Niebezpiczny Ksiezyc
Part One: W Która Strone Pójodziemy?
(Which Way Shall We Go?)
After the final battle of the Endless Waltz was slowly completed, five young men had to prepare themselves for new battles in which they could never truly win. Their new mission: How to live "normal" lives. No more fights, no more battles, no more Gundams. One man in particular was sure to have the most difficulties coping with this new lifestyle. Every story of life has its heroes, its villains and its martyrs. Interesting how one person can become all three. A hero to the thousands of people whom he saved. A villain to all whom he turned a cold shoulder upon. And a martyr, the symbol of the greed and hatred of men, trained to do their bidding without a conscious thought of its consequences.
So began the new life of Heero Yuy. To the thousands of people who passed him as he walking along the crowded city streets, he was a nameless entity, without a past, without a future. But to a select few, he was the perfect soldier. However, the perfect soldier does not make for an effective introduction when looking for an apartment or a job. No one wants to hire or house a murderer. So Heero sloughed off the title that took him the entire first part of his young life to gain, and tried to assimilate into society.
Large drops of rain poured from the black skies unto the unruly hair belonging to none other than Heero Yuy. The few people brave or rather stupid enough to be on the street in the middle of night, ran to seek shelter from the cold water. Heero merely ignored the foolish men and women running from the rain. With he sigh, he asked himself if it really hurt to be that stupid? He shook his head and continued to slowly trek down the street, once again absorbed in his thoughts. He was often seen wandering down the streets of the city at night, always alone, always walking quietly. This was the only time when Heero could sort through the millions of thoughts that slowly began to torture his brain. The "what ifs" soon began to consume his thinking. What if he hadn't found Relena in time? What if he had died in his Gundam? What if he failed his missions? He shook his head again, trying to shake the mordant thoughts from his brain. But they would not leave. Nothing he did aided his battle against his mind.
Heero, seeking relief began to run down the street. The first couple of miles felt like nothing to the highly trained Heero Yuy. However, after a couple of hours of running, he legs burned from the build up of lactic acid and his lungs ached for more oxygen. Yet he did not stop running, running physically and running from his thoughts. He soon found the relief he had been waiting for. His head felt light and the scenery along side of his path began to blur. His legs no longer ached, but ceased to exist to his brain. The runner's high was kicking in full swing, he didn't feel any pain, not even any pain from his thoughts. He ran, pushing his body farther to punish it for its flaws and giving way to useless thoughts and emotions. He soon came to a small park outside of the city. His body, deprived of oxygen and energy, collapsed onto the muddy ground.
"You let me die Heero. You saw that I needed help, but you let me die anyway. You couldn't save me Heero. Why couldn't you save me?"
"I tried to save you. There was nothing more that I could do!"
"How can you lie to me Heero? You didn't even try to save me. Why can't you help me? Please help me Heero, I'm in so much pain! Please save me!"
Heero reached out to grab the small hand of the young boy whose face was twisted in agony. He looked so familiar to Heero, but Heero could not figure out the identity of the young boy. "Here, grab my hand! I won't fail this time! I won't fail! Let me save you!" Heero made one last attempt to reach for the boy's outstretched hand, but when Heero came close to touching his finger tips, the boy's hand turned into a thick, congealed bloody liquid. "Noooo!"
"Nooo!" Heero screamed again. He looked down at his hands and was horrified at what he saw. He hands were covered with thick, dark mud. He was squeezing his mud filled hands so hard that his blood began to mix with the dark glops of earth. "Damn it!" He pounded the soggy ground until he felt his four of his knuckles brake. "He slowly say up and tried to take deep breaths in hopes of returning his heart rate to normal. "It was only a dream," he said, "it was only a dream." The next fifteen minutes passed slowly as Heero sat on the wet ground, too stunned to move. Who was that young boy? Why did he look so familiar? A loud rumble from his empty stomach brings his mind back to reality. Heero took one more deep breath before struggling to stand up. He winced as pain shot through both of his legs. "Hmm...maybe I should remember to stretch the next time I decide to go for a run" Heero dryly claimed to himself as he began to stretch and pull his sore leg muscles. The ominous growl from his stomach once again warned the former pilot that he needed to return home and eat. Heero tore part of his shirt and wrapped his bloody and broken hands in the wet cloth.
Five hours later, Heero stumbled into his apartment. He limped into the kitchen to begin his search for food. Without bothering to wash his muddy and blood drenched hands, he grabbed an apple that sat on the kitchen table. He hungrily sank his teeth into the sweet flesh of the apple, and felt some energy returning to his body. After rapidly consuming the fruit, he reached for another, but abruptly stopped after adverting his gaze upwards. His blue eyes filled with horror and terror as he observed the single most terrifying sight in his young life.