Gundam Runners, ch. 5: Heero Yuy
WARNING: Violence. Mucho blood shed.
******
An anonymous tip was all it took. One tip, and the whole plan went up in smoke. At least, it did for Heero Yuy.
It was tough being out on the streets, especially when your only major talent was decking. There was no shortage of good hackers in the City; such as it were, there were few places a young male decker could go. So, seeing a course of action that could turn out to be the worst thing in his life, Heero began renting his services to the lowlifes incapable of hiring anyone else. Whether no one wanted to dirty their hands with them, or they were desperately short on cash, Heero would do the run.
He loved the thrill of hooking up his jack and coasting through the Matrix. He loved the rush of breezing by and snatching what you needed before anyone noticed. And he loved the challenge of breaking through firewalls. But when his employers were discovered, he always got caught. He, the hacker with weak, unformed muscles, would get taken down.
Obviously, this had to change.
Heero was, at his center, a well-intentioned person. He was quiet, introverted; some might even have said gentle or withdrawn. He had no combat skills to speak of; he lived through his computer, and his computer was all the emotional support he needed or wanted. As he went through his life, hopping from gang to gang, Heero's muscles began to atrophy; lack of use made them unusable. And he was happy like this, as long as nothing interfered with his Matrix jack.
But of course, this sort of idyllic existence is a rough way of living in the City. His total broken bone count exceeded well over 25, and the bruises, scrapes, and various slashes and cuts on his body never numbered less then 36. Until he turned fourteen. Then, his 'mentor' took him aside to teach him basic self-defense.
What followed where two of the most painful years of his young life. It might have taken more, but Heero discovered a love for the rush of battle not unlike his love for his Matrix hookup. And while deckers where common, combat-deckers where always hard to come by. Heero had carved a name for himself.
The set-up was perfect. And simple. Nothing could go wrong.
At least, that's what they thought.
But, thanks to an anonymous tip from an as-yet-unknown source, the location, date, and time of Heero's last big run was disclosed. It was a hit-and-run cocaine theft: very simple, very straightforward; almost routine. Heero had the whole thing figured out, from the map stored safely on his drive to the codes hidden behind his firewall. He knew it was perfect; after all, they where going to infiltrate a building filled with highly combustible substances. You could never be too careful, of course. And they were very careful. They got in, got the goods, and where just heading out without being discovered when the building blew up.
The blast started at the center of the building and continued outward, meaning that those in the center were incinerated on contact. Heero was lucky; the only jack into the Company's mainframe was toward the outside of the building. He didn't get the force of the blast, but a good portion of his left leg, three fingers on his right hand, his right eye, and ¾ of his face were burned off. Just burned completely away.
He was discovered early on in the excavation of the disaster site. Luckily, Treize Kushrenada found him and drove him personally (or at least, with his own vehicle rigger) to the nearest burn-treatment facility. While he was recovering and the cyborg- replacement parts for his limbs and face where on the way, Treize filled him in on the group he was sponsoring. Heero was eager to get off the streets, so he took the job.
The damage was done with bio-engineered parts, so that he now resembles a cyborg more then a human. With his dexterous, multi-jointed titanium limbs, his thermo-scanning eye, and the sheet metal over the left side of his face, Heero makes a for an imposing picture. His voice box, which was also severely damaged, is almost non-functional; the only oral noises he can make are grunts and guttural noises. But he hardly needs even that.
The 'perfect soldier' can convey anything with a single glance.
WARNING: Violence. Mucho blood shed.
******
An anonymous tip was all it took. One tip, and the whole plan went up in smoke. At least, it did for Heero Yuy.
It was tough being out on the streets, especially when your only major talent was decking. There was no shortage of good hackers in the City; such as it were, there were few places a young male decker could go. So, seeing a course of action that could turn out to be the worst thing in his life, Heero began renting his services to the lowlifes incapable of hiring anyone else. Whether no one wanted to dirty their hands with them, or they were desperately short on cash, Heero would do the run.
He loved the thrill of hooking up his jack and coasting through the Matrix. He loved the rush of breezing by and snatching what you needed before anyone noticed. And he loved the challenge of breaking through firewalls. But when his employers were discovered, he always got caught. He, the hacker with weak, unformed muscles, would get taken down.
Obviously, this had to change.
Heero was, at his center, a well-intentioned person. He was quiet, introverted; some might even have said gentle or withdrawn. He had no combat skills to speak of; he lived through his computer, and his computer was all the emotional support he needed or wanted. As he went through his life, hopping from gang to gang, Heero's muscles began to atrophy; lack of use made them unusable. And he was happy like this, as long as nothing interfered with his Matrix jack.
But of course, this sort of idyllic existence is a rough way of living in the City. His total broken bone count exceeded well over 25, and the bruises, scrapes, and various slashes and cuts on his body never numbered less then 36. Until he turned fourteen. Then, his 'mentor' took him aside to teach him basic self-defense.
What followed where two of the most painful years of his young life. It might have taken more, but Heero discovered a love for the rush of battle not unlike his love for his Matrix hookup. And while deckers where common, combat-deckers where always hard to come by. Heero had carved a name for himself.
The set-up was perfect. And simple. Nothing could go wrong.
At least, that's what they thought.
But, thanks to an anonymous tip from an as-yet-unknown source, the location, date, and time of Heero's last big run was disclosed. It was a hit-and-run cocaine theft: very simple, very straightforward; almost routine. Heero had the whole thing figured out, from the map stored safely on his drive to the codes hidden behind his firewall. He knew it was perfect; after all, they where going to infiltrate a building filled with highly combustible substances. You could never be too careful, of course. And they were very careful. They got in, got the goods, and where just heading out without being discovered when the building blew up.
The blast started at the center of the building and continued outward, meaning that those in the center were incinerated on contact. Heero was lucky; the only jack into the Company's mainframe was toward the outside of the building. He didn't get the force of the blast, but a good portion of his left leg, three fingers on his right hand, his right eye, and ¾ of his face were burned off. Just burned completely away.
He was discovered early on in the excavation of the disaster site. Luckily, Treize Kushrenada found him and drove him personally (or at least, with his own vehicle rigger) to the nearest burn-treatment facility. While he was recovering and the cyborg- replacement parts for his limbs and face where on the way, Treize filled him in on the group he was sponsoring. Heero was eager to get off the streets, so he took the job.
The damage was done with bio-engineered parts, so that he now resembles a cyborg more then a human. With his dexterous, multi-jointed titanium limbs, his thermo-scanning eye, and the sheet metal over the left side of his face, Heero makes a for an imposing picture. His voice box, which was also severely damaged, is almost non-functional; the only oral noises he can make are grunts and guttural noises. But he hardly needs even that.
The 'perfect soldier' can convey anything with a single glance.