Verbotene Freiheit
Forbidden Freedom
Standard disclaimers apply.
The small crowd in the drab, cold room burst into applause as Heero Yuy walked to the front of the room. His indifferent demeanor practically radiated from every one of his pores. He stood in front of the onlookers, his bright red scarf contrasting with his ragged brown coat and his faded and patched slacks. His audience was not dressed any better than he was, their toes peeking through the holes in their shoes and their threadbare shirts hanging from malnourished frames. The only vibrancy came from the scarves, and hats, and pins made of red donned by the onlookers.
"Comrades, it is an honor to be appointed to this position. To be a leader for such a hard-working group of intellectuals is truly prodigious. For you, comrades, I will do my best to keep our community free of the students who oppose our great comrade Stalin and his ideals. The proletariat will rise and equality will be seen among our brothers of this ever-laboring country!"
Heero finished his speech on a triumphant note and swiftly bowed at the waist as excited murmuring was heard amongst the crowd. He walked out of the dreary room and immediately after, the audience slowly began to disperse into the cold winter weather of Stalingrad. While walking though the halls of the building, the young communist was pulled by deft hands into a darkened room.
"Congratulations, Heero!" Sing-songed the voice, "You are now a distinguished Party member, flashing your Party card at every chance you get! No more waiting in bread lines for you!"
"Duo! You didn't have to sneak up on me like that for something so trivial," growled Heero, his tone of voice threatening.
"Sorry, I couldn't help it. So, anyways, I have something important to tell you. That is unless you have some Party event that takes precedence over your best friend," Duo remarked snidely.
"Just say what you need to and then be on your way and go back to your work. It is not good for a righteous communist to slack off," retorted Heero.
"Heero, my dear friend and comrade, I have been hearing stories about Western Life."
"Merely tales made up by the bourgeois society to trick you into turning against our great ideals," snapped Heero, turning around to exit the room. He was pulled back by a sharp tug on his upper arm, courtesy of Duo.
"If you'll let me continue, my cousin managed to get a visa to Canada, and he stayed. He wrote me of being able to go into a privately owned store to buy food! He even said that you didn't have to wait in a line! And that you could buy whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted, and whenever you wanted! You don't have to have a Party card to get your bread or wait in line for a cup of stale vegetables!" His voice rose in volume and his speech sped up as his eyes twinkled at the thought of a free society. "You can get a visa, Heero. You can get out of this web of lies and secrecy! It would be so easy for you, being such a respectable party member! And then, hell! You could send for me too!"
"I have no desire to run away from a country as great as ours. Go and get back to your work or I'll turn you in for your treachery," Heero spit out venomously.
"Please, just try to get a visa. Even to Eastern Germany. They're red too.. You won't be going against the party that way. Please," begged Duo his eyes sparkling with a glimmer of hope directly into Heero's own stoic cobalt blue.
"Will you leave me alone if I get one?"
"Yes."
"It' done then," and with that remark, Heero stalked back out into the corridors and then into the chilly weather.
The morning songs of the birds in the trees flitted through the open windows of the little office on the third floor of the old furniture store. The once private business had been turned into the headquarters of Stalingrad's Party officials. Heero sat across from an old man with spectacles who leafed through the papers on his desk, glancing around occasionally trying to locate various stamps and files. The busts of Marx, Lenin, and Stalin seemed to stare contemptibly at Heero as if they knew what he was doing.
"So, comrade," the old man said, his voice raspy, "You want to get a visa?"
"Yes."
"Where to?"
"Eastern Germany. I want to meet our comrades there; tell them of how wonderful our country has become. "
"All right then, do you have a party card?" Heero handed over his red card to the old man, who raised his spectacles to look at the writing on the card. "I'll get your papers. You can leave for Eastern Germany anytime you wish, Comrade Yuy. I will fill out the necessary papers and give them to the authorities. I wish you an excellent journey." The old man glanced at Heero with a knowing look and then picked up the copy of Pravada on his desk.
That night, after the citizens had completed their daily labor and gone back to their unheated homes, Heero walked the short distance to Duo's apartment, his boots crunching in the snow as he walked. He walked up the steps and knocked on the door of the apartment. The door was cracked open slightly as an elderly woman peeked out to look at the visitor. She opened the door fully and stepped aside to let him in when she realized who he was. He walked past her and up the steps to his friend's room with a nod of acknowledgement in her direction. He opened the door to Duo's place of lodging and sauntered inside.
"Did you get it?" Duo queried as soon as he caught sight of his friend.
"I leave for Eastern Germany tomorrow on the train. I did what you asked. Now I ask you to have some faith in the party."
"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I share no beliefs with Marx, or Lenin, or Stalin. Stalin has scared the entire country into following communist beliefs. Not a soul would speak out against him in fear of facing an execution or exile! You should know! Your father was murdered because he said Stalin was a fool!"
"My father was the fool. He didn't see the glory of our ways."
"Get out." The words were said monotonously but the anger in the eyes of Duo was unmistakable. Heero walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
**** All right, so Heero is just slightly out of character *cough cough*. Actually, I wrote this for an English story and decided, that with how the plot ends up going, it could prove to apply very very well to Gundam Wing/Sailor Moon characters. I'd like for you to review, but hey, not everyone does. Please don't be offended by my views on communism, though, if you'd like to debate it with me, feel free to contact me at miaka_yuki21@hotmail.com . Reviews and flames allowed. If you're going to flame me though, at least put some constructive criticism in it. **** Oh, and by the way, I really hate to do this, but I won't update unless I get some reviews. I'm in the middle of a research project and unless I have motivation, this isn't going to get anywhere.