Author's Note: Hello, hello.. sorry for the depressing tone of the last
chapter, but I'm afraid most of them will not have anything particularly
cheery about them. This isn't that kind of story. If you found the
ramblings about life boring or offensive, I truly am sorry. Heero, in my
opinion, has never had a very positive outlook on life. Thank you to all of
you who actually take time to read these ramblings.. Onegai R&R!!! [Keep in
mind that this is fanfiction, not the current world]
Disclaimer: "Disclaimer has gone out to lunch with the real owners of Gundam Wing. Disclaimer will return once it has finished its debate about 'do wormholes exist?' Until that time D2 will be running Disclaimer's office, and would simply like to say -Triton-dono does not own any aspect of Gundam Wing-"
Chapter 1
I'm not sure of the conditions under which I was created, but if I took a guess, it would probably be the vacuum of space. In any case, I came into this world with blazing red hair, and Prussian blue. Or so I was told. I couldn't tell you truthfully. I was born completely colorblind, and remained in that condition for the first seven years of my life.
Those were relatively happy years for me. I was a friend to most of the children, and the work I did when I graduated from the nursery was something I enjoyed. I worked with plants most of the time, encouraging them to grow and prosper to their utmost ability. That may sound strange, coming from me, but I was a different person. I wasn't Heero Yuy the Gundam pilot, I was just a child; a happy, carefree child who was in love with life and anything to do with it. I didn't have a name even then. My "siblings" called me Red for the most part and eventually the adults started calling me that too. I was the most loving and forgiving soul there.
That's where my problems began.
As the world changed in response to Heero Yuy's assassination five years before my own birth, the peaceful, forgiving and loving children that had previously lived in happiness met obstacles. The organization housing us had been working on the project of "Perfect soldier" for seven years when I turned three. They then decided that they knew enough about our mental and physical layout to start operating on us. To start creating those perfect soldiers they would need to complete the war.
We couldn't understand what was happening at first. Even those of us that could see into the near future had no idea what was going on. They were taken first, so that they couldn't warn the rest of us. I don't know what became of them; my guess would be they died during the surgery, or were unable to support themselves in the outside world. Soon the scientists took more, letting the altered back among us when the operation was completed successfully.
Those altered ones made life horrible for the rest of us. They no longer cared if they hurt us, and went out of their way to tease, beat, and generally make our existence miserable. We learned to fight out of self- defense, using our unique skills to determine the most painful and effective pressure points on the bullies' bodies. This, of course, fit directly into the plans our "parents" had for us. After a year or so of this enforced insanity, none of us were the innocents that we had been. We knew what it was to fight desperately for our continued existence, and no one was smiling. It was every child to him or herself, and friendship had long since lost meaning. More of us were taken to be operated on, slowly so that we wouldn't notice it except to feel relieved that there was one less rival to contend with.
When I was seven, they came for me. I think they gassed the room I was in. Whatever they did, I woke up disoriented, feeling that I had missed something important. I tried to sit up, only to realize that I was strapped securely to a polished steel table. One of the scientists (we never knew their names, and rarely saw them. They were there, but we ignored them most of the time) leaned over me. He was dressed in a sterile white uniform, and his reflective glasses winked at me eerily.
"Don't worry lad, all we're going to do is help your eyes. Wouldn't you like to finally see color after all these years?" He smiled a toothy smile as I tried to deny it, as I tried to say something, anything, to move my head or hand even a fraction of an inch. Nothing. The man smiled again.
"I wouldn't try moving boy, those drugs you took create total paralysis. It's a waste of your energy and our time." Another voice spoke, deeper and empty of emotion. "Is he ready?" "Yes sir." "Begin the surgery then." Two minutes later, I had the most excruciating pain I had every experienced. It was nothing compared to the things that followed though.
They kept me conscious for the entire operation, forcing me to watch the monitors as they opened my skull and dug through my brain. They were very specific on what they wanted to do, and they did improve my eyesight. They did more though. If I had only been partly human before, they widened the gap.
Over the years they had found, through observation of us and feeding off our own knowledge of the way our bodies worked, they had determined what parts of the brain we needed to function correctly, what parts were not necessary and, most importantly, how to enhance the sections they wanted. To achieve the goal of creating the "Perfect Soldier", those people who had given me life closed off part of my mind by placing a computer chip inside to limit my supernatural abilities and enhance the mechanical knowledge, physical strength and recovery speed they required. They also managed to install a tiny camera in my left eye that allowed them to record my every action, and, if I manipulated it correctly, let me see the world in the former black and white condition. The full implication of these changes did not make itself known to me until nearly a year later. Just then I was too busy trying to cope with the pain as my skull was screwed into its original position and I was nearly insensible to anything else. I did notice that the empty voice was speaking again. It cautioned that everyone not get too excited, they couldn't know that it was completely successful as of yet. I blacked out for a few hours, and when I came to, the scientist who had shown himself to me held a mirror up so I could see myself, for the first time, with color. I was too overwhelmed by color in itself to pay any attention for several minutes, fascinated in spite of my self as he named the colors that could be seen in the room. When I finally did look in the mirror, something bothered me. I had thought my hair red, but the color I saw now was more brownish. When I asked the smiling man, he replied by saying that the stress of the surgery had changed the DNA pattern in my hair (not to mention a few other things I discovered later), causing it to lose that fiery hue and take on a calmer one. After trying to absorb this, the exhaustion of eight straight hours of intense pain caught up with me, and I slipped into unfeeling sleep once more.
Notes: No, I really don't know anything about brain surgery, and I was too lazy to do any research. Gomen, Gomen.. Any way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, or at least liked parts of it. Again I do not mean to offend anyone. Please Review, I LIVE on reviews.. Onegai. 'Til the next chapter!!
Disclaimer: "Disclaimer has gone out to lunch with the real owners of Gundam Wing. Disclaimer will return once it has finished its debate about 'do wormholes exist?' Until that time D2 will be running Disclaimer's office, and would simply like to say -Triton-dono does not own any aspect of Gundam Wing-"
Chapter 1
I'm not sure of the conditions under which I was created, but if I took a guess, it would probably be the vacuum of space. In any case, I came into this world with blazing red hair, and Prussian blue. Or so I was told. I couldn't tell you truthfully. I was born completely colorblind, and remained in that condition for the first seven years of my life.
Those were relatively happy years for me. I was a friend to most of the children, and the work I did when I graduated from the nursery was something I enjoyed. I worked with plants most of the time, encouraging them to grow and prosper to their utmost ability. That may sound strange, coming from me, but I was a different person. I wasn't Heero Yuy the Gundam pilot, I was just a child; a happy, carefree child who was in love with life and anything to do with it. I didn't have a name even then. My "siblings" called me Red for the most part and eventually the adults started calling me that too. I was the most loving and forgiving soul there.
That's where my problems began.
As the world changed in response to Heero Yuy's assassination five years before my own birth, the peaceful, forgiving and loving children that had previously lived in happiness met obstacles. The organization housing us had been working on the project of "Perfect soldier" for seven years when I turned three. They then decided that they knew enough about our mental and physical layout to start operating on us. To start creating those perfect soldiers they would need to complete the war.
We couldn't understand what was happening at first. Even those of us that could see into the near future had no idea what was going on. They were taken first, so that they couldn't warn the rest of us. I don't know what became of them; my guess would be they died during the surgery, or were unable to support themselves in the outside world. Soon the scientists took more, letting the altered back among us when the operation was completed successfully.
Those altered ones made life horrible for the rest of us. They no longer cared if they hurt us, and went out of their way to tease, beat, and generally make our existence miserable. We learned to fight out of self- defense, using our unique skills to determine the most painful and effective pressure points on the bullies' bodies. This, of course, fit directly into the plans our "parents" had for us. After a year or so of this enforced insanity, none of us were the innocents that we had been. We knew what it was to fight desperately for our continued existence, and no one was smiling. It was every child to him or herself, and friendship had long since lost meaning. More of us were taken to be operated on, slowly so that we wouldn't notice it except to feel relieved that there was one less rival to contend with.
When I was seven, they came for me. I think they gassed the room I was in. Whatever they did, I woke up disoriented, feeling that I had missed something important. I tried to sit up, only to realize that I was strapped securely to a polished steel table. One of the scientists (we never knew their names, and rarely saw them. They were there, but we ignored them most of the time) leaned over me. He was dressed in a sterile white uniform, and his reflective glasses winked at me eerily.
"Don't worry lad, all we're going to do is help your eyes. Wouldn't you like to finally see color after all these years?" He smiled a toothy smile as I tried to deny it, as I tried to say something, anything, to move my head or hand even a fraction of an inch. Nothing. The man smiled again.
"I wouldn't try moving boy, those drugs you took create total paralysis. It's a waste of your energy and our time." Another voice spoke, deeper and empty of emotion. "Is he ready?" "Yes sir." "Begin the surgery then." Two minutes later, I had the most excruciating pain I had every experienced. It was nothing compared to the things that followed though.
They kept me conscious for the entire operation, forcing me to watch the monitors as they opened my skull and dug through my brain. They were very specific on what they wanted to do, and they did improve my eyesight. They did more though. If I had only been partly human before, they widened the gap.
Over the years they had found, through observation of us and feeding off our own knowledge of the way our bodies worked, they had determined what parts of the brain we needed to function correctly, what parts were not necessary and, most importantly, how to enhance the sections they wanted. To achieve the goal of creating the "Perfect Soldier", those people who had given me life closed off part of my mind by placing a computer chip inside to limit my supernatural abilities and enhance the mechanical knowledge, physical strength and recovery speed they required. They also managed to install a tiny camera in my left eye that allowed them to record my every action, and, if I manipulated it correctly, let me see the world in the former black and white condition. The full implication of these changes did not make itself known to me until nearly a year later. Just then I was too busy trying to cope with the pain as my skull was screwed into its original position and I was nearly insensible to anything else. I did notice that the empty voice was speaking again. It cautioned that everyone not get too excited, they couldn't know that it was completely successful as of yet. I blacked out for a few hours, and when I came to, the scientist who had shown himself to me held a mirror up so I could see myself, for the first time, with color. I was too overwhelmed by color in itself to pay any attention for several minutes, fascinated in spite of my self as he named the colors that could be seen in the room. When I finally did look in the mirror, something bothered me. I had thought my hair red, but the color I saw now was more brownish. When I asked the smiling man, he replied by saying that the stress of the surgery had changed the DNA pattern in my hair (not to mention a few other things I discovered later), causing it to lose that fiery hue and take on a calmer one. After trying to absorb this, the exhaustion of eight straight hours of intense pain caught up with me, and I slipped into unfeeling sleep once more.
Notes: No, I really don't know anything about brain surgery, and I was too lazy to do any research. Gomen, Gomen.. Any way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, or at least liked parts of it. Again I do not mean to offend anyone. Please Review, I LIVE on reviews.. Onegai. 'Til the next chapter!!