By Icelightning
Chapter 1: Shattered
Author's Note: This is an alternate universe fanfic from my other fanfics, Changing of the Guard and its sequel(s). So, the mysterious characters in "The Aftermath" won't be seen in "A Casualty of War". Why did I write this story? Well, it's quite simple. I've had a made-up character for a while that I've only used in role-plays and RPGs, and I enjoy the character greatly, so I decided to write a fanfic with them in it. Not to mention that all the people I've proposed this fanfic idea to wanted me to do to it, so... I'm going to try and make them happy. Oh boy, maybe I should've finished "The Aftermath" first, but I think I hit a small writer's block. And I need to write a different type of fanfic for a change. So bear with me.. At any rate, I hope you enjoy this fanfic as much as you've enjoyed my other ones!
Author's second note: This is more graphical in nature than my other
universe of fanfics.. So uhm.. If you're seriously depressed, don't read
this, okay? ^^;; I don't need anyone killing themselves over it.. But it
will get better, I'll promise you that.
All he knew was pain. He had forgotten love, forgotten
warmth, forgotten happiness, and forgotten what it was like to not be hungry.
All he remembered now was hatred, cruelty, terror, and pain. Family was
a thing of the past, love was a thing of the past, hope was a thing of
the past. There was no reason for him to continue to live, but he kept
living. Living almost without a soul.
The only things that escaped his throat anymore were screams
and cries of terror and pain. How one so young could hold so many tears
that flowed down his cheeks, was beyond explaination. It was the only thing
about his life he had control of anymore. He could cry. They couldn't take
that away from him. They had already taken everything else. At least he
had his tears.
He had forgotten what it felt like to have ice under one's
blades, or what it was like to laugh. He could barely remember the faces
of his family, and his memories of them became more and more dim with each
passing day. Soon, he would lose them completely. He would forget that
they even existed. After all, they were already dead, and he had nothing
of theirs in his possession. What would remind the child of them?
Each day was the same as the last, full of pain and anguish.
Never did a day stray from what it had in common with the day before. All
that changed was that the days got increasingly worse. He gave up begging
after the first few months, as it yielded only harsher torture. The boy
stopped fighting against their will and started doing as he was told, trying
to keep them pleased. But it was never enough. They wanted more. And they
took more away from him.
He stopped caring about himself with time, as well. The
pain became less and less agonizing, as he grew used to it. A child grew
use to pain. His main concern before the invasion was learning how to read
and write better, and learning math. But those were things of the past,
as well.
The boy was a child without a future. As of now, it seemed
he would only have another few years before his life-candle was snuffed
out forever. A child with so much promise now without a chance to become
what he could have been. He would become yet another casualty of war.
Nameless children aren't remembered, unlike the countless
heroes of wars. He would die, and be forever forgotten. His story would
die with him. The whole of Puckworld would fail to acknowledge that he
had even existed. For him, there would be no memorial. There would be no
plaque. He would not even have a grave.
Even as he thought he had no hope left, he retained a
small light in his heart. Dragaunus was gone from Puckworld, although the
Mask and the heroes that defeated him had died with him. The Resistance
was starting to gain the upper hand. Soon, the couple that held him captive
would be forced to flee their base.
But he did not hope that the Resistance would free him
from his slavery. No, that was too much to hope for. He didn't even begin
to hope for something so beautiful and elusive as freedom. He hoped for
an end to it all, the stopping of his painful existence. He hoped for death.
A child, not even of six human years, hoped for death.
Another casualty of war. An innocent life, barely started,
already hoping for an end to his existence. A child that would be forgotten
and thrown aside to rot after his death. They would never be able to save
him. He would die in great pain, and they could do nothing. They would
not even know he existed.
With his death, he would once again know happiness, according
to what his parents had told him about the next world beyond theirs. He'd
see their faces once more and be washed clean of his sufferings. If only
he could still believe their words. But it was the only hope he had left,
now. It had to be true, it just had to be!
Children were not meant to be in such pain and agony.
They were meant to be healthy and loved. But through the workings of the
universe, through horrible fates and horrible people, children weren't
always healthy and loved. He, before the invasion, was one of the lucky.
Now, he was one of the damned. Another casualty of war.
He wished he could die and never have to suffer anymore.
Maybe fade from existence entirely. It would be easier than living. Hadn't
he been through enough suffering? Why couldn't it just end? Why did it
never stop? His was only a child!
But he could not kill himself whenever presented with
an opportunity. He was too afraid, too scared that they might stop him
and punish him all the more. There would never be a chance of death presented
to him again. They would keep him forever, on the verge of collapse, so
they could amuse themselves with his misery.
He never thought he would live to see the light again.
He never thought he would learn how to smile or laugh once more. He never
thought he would be free from their evil. He never hoped that he'd be that
lucky.
He believed wrong.
He was another casualty of war. But he would be a survivor.
That is, if the Mighty Ducks had anything to say about it.
Another fitful sleep of nightmares came to an end as he
awoke with a shout, pushing his chest halfway off of the hard floor even
though his body screamed at the movement. Pain shot throughout his body,
but he ignored it, freezing in place on his stomach as he listened intently.
He thought he had heard footsteps . . . .
He looked around the room he was lying in and sighed softly.
This wasn't his usual cell, which meant he must have passed out last night
while they . . . He shivered and blanked out at the thought.
His mind was returned to the present as he heard another
footfall from outside the room, followed by another and then another. Coming
towards him. They were going to hurt him again!
The child knew it was a bad idea to make trouble, but
something inside of him brought forth the instinct to hide within him and
he scrambled up as he body continued to cry out in pain at him. He peeped
in distress and looked around quickly, before deciding to hide under a
nearby bench. Shivers ran through his body as the footsteps drew nearer.
He was a defenseless young duckling against two full-grown
Saurians. And it was only a matter of time before they found him. They
would punish him harder, he knew, but the time it took them to find him
was worth it. If only they could never find him, he could die of starvation
and escape this wretched life . . . .
A bellow of rage assaulted his ears when his male captor
came into the room and noticed that he was not where he had been left.
"Where are you, you little bastard child?!"
No answer; the Saurian roared louder. "Get out where I
can see you or I'll hurt you worse when I find you!"
The child peeped again unconsciously and the Saurian's
eyes narrowed as he found the source of the noise. Knowing that his farce
was up, the boy pressed further into his hiding place, until his back could
not go up against the wall any farther. But still he tried to back away,
even though he consciously knew that he could not pass through the wall
and that it would always be a solid barrier. He started to hiccup and peep
alternatively, too scared to scream.
Throwing the bench out of the way, the Saurian reached
down for the boy, growling as smoke vented from his nostrils. The boy would
pay for his insolence! He'd make sure of it.
Letting out a shout, the boy scrambled between the Saurian's
legs and dashed for the door, only to skid to a halt as the Saurian's mate
entered. He looked around desperately for anything he could use to protect
himself as the male turned around and both Saurians began to approach him.
The child peeped once more and ran toward one of the shelves, seeing objects
he could throw. That is, if he had any strength left in his arms at all.
The Saurians stopped and smirked at his desperate gamble,
knowing that the child could not possilby throw the items on the shelf
more than a couple of feet, and none of them were breakable. Anything he
tried would be in vain. And when his strength was exhausted, it would be
a simple task to catch him and pin him to the ground before they began
his punishment.
But they forgot about one tiny object on the shelf. One
tiny little object that would change the boy's future. It was of a pair
of identical devices, one made for each Saurian. They were not meant for
the child to get his hands on. And only to be used in an emergency where
all was hopeless. But his fate was sealed when his hand wrapped around
one of the two small objects and he picked up off the shelf, drawing his
arm back to throw it at the Saurians in front of him. The Saurians could
only stare as he activated the device, accidently pushing down its only
button with his thumb.
And then, his world was turned upside down. The object
began to tug at him, trying to pull him somewhere and he let out a cry
of shock and terror. He tried to drop it, but his hand was stuck to it,
and he couldn't pull it loose. And for a second, he couldn't even move
as he feet began to leave the ground. He tried to scream, but the sound
was ripped from his throat before he even uttered it, fear clutching his cry within him, although he struggled like never before against the unseen
force.
Something was happening to him . . . What was going on?!
He let out a dry sob, before he began to hiccup and peep in fear. Was this
how it was like to die? He was going to die, he was sure of it!
The child had thought he was ready to die, but now that
he felt his life was truly threatened, he suddenly repulsed the idea entirely.
He wanted to live! Live! This couldn't be happening!
Suddenly, a miniature wormhole opened up in front of him,
swirling with a thousand dazzling colors. A dimensional gateway. He wasn't
going to die, he was going to be teleported to another dimension!
His struggles redoubled against the pull, but he kept
on floating closer and closer to it, drawn by it's irresistable force of
attraction. He let out a scream, but the wormhole carried it away as he
was sucked through, closing behind him.
The Saurians could do nothing to stop the dimensional
gateway, nor could they follow him and get the boy back to punish him.
The
way it had been designed prevented that. It was one-way only. And as leaders
of the last Saurian outpost on Puckworld, neither would not abandon it
only to be executed by the last remaining Saurian Overlord as a traitor.
There was barely time to scream as he was catapulted through
the other side of the dimensional gateway. He slammed into the pavement
a few feet below, lying there in shock. He wasn't dead, he was someplace
else! Away from the Saurians... He was free!
Free!
He tried to sit up, but couldn't move and he was quickly
awashed with fear. He was defenseless, and there were creatures gathering
around him that he didn't recognize! And it was too warm! He was on another
planet, and they might do anything to him.
But why couldn't he move?
A sick wetness began to spread through his hair, and he
froze in shock. He recognized the feel of it, the scent of it, the tempature
of it. Blood. His own blood. He had hid his head when he fell through the
portal.
Everything began to suddenly grow black around the edge
and it creeped further into his vision. He struggled against the darkness,
feeling it sap away his thoughts and the feeling of the ground underneath
him, even though he knew it was still there. The only thing he could do
was quietly peep in distress, an automatic response to fear in ducklings
his age, one that he could not control.
He sensed one of the strange creatures kneel down near
him, and screamed as the being touched his back. The hand was withdrawn,
although the person began to speak. Despite how hard the boy tried to listen
to him, the creature's voice sounded only like a faint buzzing and he was
unable to
understand what it was trying to say.
Unable to keep conscious for any longer, he let out a
shuddering sigh, his eyes closing as he fell into blissful unconsciousness.
The human that had kneeled by him was, by luck or by fate,
Captain Klegghorn. Only a few weeks earlier, the Ducks had decided to give
him communicators in case of an emergency. And a little Puckworlder bleeding
silently on the pavement definitely constituted an emergency. He got it
out of a pocket, hitting a button.
Wildwing's face appeared on screen a second before the
mask shifted to show his confusion. "Klegghorn?"
"I found something that might interest you," the captain
of the police force explained, then continued. "I saw a kid of your species
just fall from a portal and land on the pavement. He's pretty banged up,
so you should get your medic out here."
"What? A kid?" Wildwing froze in shock, then worry quickly
high-lighted his features, even through the mask. "How bad?"
"Bad enough that I'm gonna need to bandage his head up
and I need to do it right now," Klegghorn replied. "Just track my signal.
Klegghorn out."
He shut off the comm before Wildwing could reply and looked
to the boy. Regardless of the fact that he didn't know about first aid
for Puckworlders, he knew that if he didn't bandage the boy's head, the
boy would probably die. Either way, he didn't have much of a choice. Sighing,
he shook his head and got to work.
Tanya blinked as Wildwing walked into the main room lab,
glancing up from her work on Drake One. She was updating some software
for the scanners that kept a tab on various odd occurances outside of the
Pond, which meant the software wasn't operational at that moment. Seeing
that he was deeply disturbed by something, she gave him a questioning glance
as she stood up. What was he so upset about?
"Klegghorn just called me about another Puckworlder on
Earth," Wildwing replied to her glance and confusion spread across her
face.
"Another Puckworlder?" Tanya asked and Wildwing nodded
quickly.
"A child, to be exact. One very hurt child that needs
medical attention." Wildwing stated, sighing softly. "We'll take the Migrator
. . . It shouldn't take more than the two of us. We don't have time to
gather up the others."
-Is he that hurt?- Tanya thought with concern, nodding
quickly in agreement. "If he's extremely injured, then we shouldn't waste
any time. The Migrator has any supplies we'll need."
Wildwing nodded back in thanks and took off at a run towards
the Migrator without another word. Tanya watched him for a few seconds,
then stood up, dusted herself off, and followed, worry evident on her face.
The poor child . . . Coming to Earth all alone and injured, no less.
As Tanya ran behind Wildwing, she began to wonder more
and more about the child, worrying more about him as the seconds went by.
If he was hurt badly, then anything could have happened to him on Puckworld.
And he could suffer from severe emotional trauma because of it, without
the help of his family to assist in his recovery. In the end, it was going
to be up to them.
They had to take in the child; they could not leave him
with humans. They would not leave him with humans. After all, he was one
of their own. A child that needed love and affection immediately, not fear
that comes with the unknown.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Wildwing started up the
Migrator. She sighed, worry shining in her eyes as she looked to Wildwing.
"We can only hope that the boy will be able to survive
going through all this," Tanya whispered quietly. "After all he's probably
been through . . . "
Wildwing nodded, not taking his eyes off the road. "Don't
worry, Tanya. We'll take care of him. He won't be alone."
"I just hope you're right," Tanya replied after a few
moments' silence.
-Me too.- Wildwing replied mentally.
A few minutes later Wildwing and Tanya arrived at the location
Klegghorn had indicated, parking the Migrator a few feet away from the
crowd of spectators that had gathered. Tanya hurried out and waded through
the crowd while Wildwing walked a little ways behind her. Wildwing was
unable to see pass the crowd when Tanya suddenly screamed.
"Tanya, what is it?!" Wildwing shouted, shoving through
the rest of the crowd in a hurry. When he saw what had made Tanya scream,
he froze in shock, his voice dropping to a whisper. "By the stars . . .
"
In Tanya's arms wack a young Puckworlder with a bandaged
head. Klegghorn had been telling the truth about the injured head, but
'pretty banged up' did not even come close to the extent of the boy's other
injuries. Every part of child's body that Wildwing could see, his head,
legs, arms, and neck, were covered with nasty cuts and bruises, with some
of the cuts recently reopened, even infected. The boy's shirt was stuck
to his chest with tiny parallel streaks of his own blood.
And the child was dangerously thin to the point that he
looked as if he hadn't had enough food for months on end, which made him
seem even tinier in the oversized shirt he was wearing for clothing. His
pale light blonde hair, which was nearly white, had grown to just above
his shoulders with negligence, contrasting sharply against the dark bruises
and cuts that showed through his pink-tinted feathers. Pink feathers?
"His feathers!" Wildwing looked to Tanya, worry in his
eyes that the Mask could not cover up. "That's not how they're supposed
to look, is it?"
Tanya shook her head, closing her eyes as she shuddered.
"They're supposed to be an off yellow . . . But he's been malnourished
for so long that his body can no longer waste the energy to make the proper
pigment for them . . . That happens when a child is only fed a few times
in a week. They must have starved him . . . . "
"Can we help him?" Wildwing's voice again dropped, this
time to a gentler whisper. "I mean, isn't there anything we can do?"
She sighed, looking to the boy as she tried to blink back
her tears. "We need to get him on life support immediately and clean his
wounds . . . So many of them are infected to the point that they could
kill him. And his breath is so shallow, it could be too late-"
"-No! It's not too late! We have to at least try and save
him, if at all possible!" Wildwing replied quickly, gently reaching to
stroke the boy's hair. "He's so young . . . He can't die yet!"
"Wildwing, so many children died from not as dire of situations
that he barely has a chance . . . " She shook her head quickly. "Y-You're
right, t-though. We have to try. A-And hope."
"Maybe I should have an ambula-" Klegghorn started to
suggest, but Tanya shook her head quickly once more as she cut him off.
"NO!" She cried, looking to him in horror before she winced
and looked down at the boy, barely mumbling loud enough for either Wildwing
or Klegghorn to hear her. "O-Our bodies are different f-from humans. If
you t-took care of him, he would have . . . have no chance to survive.
He'd d-die!"
The boy let out a small dry sob of terror, and Tanya immediately
pulled the boy closer to her, whispering softly to him as Klegghorn let
out a long sigh. "If you feel it's for the best . . . . "
"It is," Wildwing replied when Tanya didn't. "Our technology
is much more advanced than anything Earth has, and our bodies' needs differ
enough from humans that even your best doctors couldn't save him."
Klegghorn nodded, standing up and beginning to make the
crowd move away from him and the ducks, to give them room to leave. "I
won't keep you two, then."
Tanya clutched the boy close as she stood, careful to
make sure that he was comfortable and that she was not hurting him. She
shielded him from the sight of the humans as the walked through the crowd,
staying close to Wildwing's back in an effort to keep him further hidden.
He had already been through so much, he didn't need to be gawked at as
well.
"You know he'll have tons of emotional damage as well,
right, Wildwing?" Tanya spoke again when they were nearly to the Migrator.
"He'll need everyone to be there for him every step of the way."
"We'll be there for him, Tanya," Wildwing reassured her,
helping her get to the Migrator's ramp through the remainder of the crowd.
"Don't worry."
Tanya swallowed and began nervously, "But-"
"-No buts. The others will want to help him through this.
Have hope and give him a chance."
-Please don't die on us, please!- Tanya mentally begged
the unconscious child in her arms, not daring to whisper anymore of her
fears outloud as the Migrator's door closed behind them. -You have to live!
You just have to!-
*End of Chapter One*