Author's notes: Ano.I want to thank my reviewers!!! *Reaches out to hug
Katie and Frog-toes* then again, maybe it's best I don't hug you guys, I
wouldn't want you catch whatever it is that's making me sick.Anyway THANK
YOU!!! You have no idea how good those reviews make me feel. As I said, I'm
feeling a little under the weather, so if this chapter is a little strange,
that's one of the reasons. Another is that my mind works strangely to
begin with, so anything I write will be a little out there to begin with. !
Explanation! From now on the story should be a little clearer because Heero
has the camera thingy. Before he got it memories are bound to be a little
hazier because he can't watch them over an over again. Also, I realized
something. If they did brain surgery then they would have shaved Heero's
hair off and it grows back another color Gomen, but it didn't occur to me
until it was posted and I couldn't think of a good way to fit it in.
Disclaimer: D2- Disclaimer is still on it's outing with the owners of Gundam Wing, and is having too much fun to return to work yet. Needless to say, Triton is not with them because she does not own any part of GW.-
Chapter 2- Training
Only the blind truly appreciate sight. Especially those who became blind at some point in their life, or were cured of that blindness. Those are the ones that can realize exactly what sight is. Try explaining color or light to a blind person. I've yet to find a suitable explanation; it simply doesn't exist for them. And then, when that blindness is stripped away, the world is an entirely different place, a place alike to the old world, yet completely alien. Color is one of the most amazing things in the universe, and it transforms once familiar objects into the unknown. It's like learning to talk and walk all over gain. There are so many distractions to the previously black and white landscape. And the words. You have to learn the names of everything you thought you knew. The sky is blue (on clear days), the grass is green, except when it's yellow and brown, and the ocean, previously thought to be blue, is actually a grayish green.
Now, imagine that you wake up one morning, and you try to move your arm to turn of that screeching radio. But you can't move. You try again, harder, and your arm moves. You reach for the radio, but instead of turning it off, your hand passes straight through it.
These were the distractions that I had to deal with in those first weeks after the operation. I couldn't focus on anything because the colors kept distracting me, pulling my mind down paths of wonder that anything could ever be so amazing. I also discovered that I had a severely limited use of the powers that led us to be called "mutants". The first time it happened I was trying to communicate telepathically with one of the children I had a cautious truce with. Nothing. It bothered me a little, but I figured she was just blocking me. Then, one day when I had yet another splitting headache but not enough energy to reach for the Advil, I tried to lift it with my mind. Nothing happened. I tried again; I could feel the bottle, but somehow, I couldn't touch it. That alerted me to the fact that something was wrong. Cautiously, I delved into my own mind, slowly so as not to miss anything, and there it was. They had done more that change my eyes. Slowly, afraid of what I might find, I searched further, tracing the miniscule wires until I came to their purpose. What I found was the worst shock I had received in my life, including the surgery itself. They had choked off part of my mind! The chip formed a neat dome over the "supernatural" part of my brain, gold wires blocking some nerves and opening others wide. I had been transformed into a machine whose best use was as an assassin. Then I discovered the camera.
That camera records everything I do; every move I make, every breath I take, it's watching me. *Triton starts singing with the radio.." Every move you make, every breath you take, I'll be watching you!" Sorry folks, I couldn't resist. Ano.I don't own the song either (name? Name?) * Everything I see or think is recorded and immediately sent to a memory bank both outside and inside my mind. It took me a long time to learn how to manipulate it fully, but I did have a lot of time on my hands. The organization couldn't be sure that I was a success until they had run a few batteries of tests on me and put me through some rather intense training.
I was not allowed to leave my room with out the accompaniment of an officer, but for the first six months I didn't care. I was so busy sorting out my new powers of vision and the changes those wires made in my body that I didn't notice what they were doing to me. Strength testing, speed, both intellectually and physically, pain resistance and emotional balance. It wasn't until they started downloading war history into my memory that I woke up to reality. They wanted me to be an unfeeling killer, handing out death as if it was candy. They may even have been trying to get me to enjoy it.
By the time I realized this it was too late. The experiments and training had been engraved so deeply into my soul that no matter how hard I struggled against it, I couldn't stop. I absorbed the videos of death and war with a straight face presented to the world. But inside, I was crying. And they knew it. They beat that child into submission, using every sort of punishment they could devise. They never beat me physically though. It wouldn't have helped them. The face I gave them was becoming more and more permanent, and they wanted to touch the most private chambers of my soul. In this, they failed. Others completed the training they attempted to give me, and it would be a long time before anyone was able to touch that crying child.
The organization did, however, accomplish a few of their goals.
I was no longer afraid of death. It had become a part of me, a part of the existence I was to lead in the world. I could kill without mercy or thought. The computer inside myself closed off more sections, dimming my child hood until that point into a blurry memory, only to be accessed if I asked for it, and I had no wish to relive those years and bring the helpless agony back. About a year and a half from the day my life altered completely, the leader deemed me a success, and sent me out to face the world. An eight-year-old "child" against the war ridded colonies, without direction but for the knowledge that I must find a way to become the soldier needed to end the wars.
Notes: I apologize if this chapter is a little short, but it's a transition chapter. Yes to all of you who have read Episode Zero, next chapter is about Odin Lowe. I just had to get Heero to a situation where they can meet up. No, Heero is not yet the perfect soldier. I have plans for him before he becomes the Heero Yuy we all know. Heheheheheheheh.. anyway, thanks once again to my reviewers *waves wildly in their general direction* Please people, review!!!! I need support here, or I might become so depressed I stop writing (; I really don't want to do that because I like this story! Next chapter.. Soon, I hope.
Disclaimer: D2- Disclaimer is still on it's outing with the owners of Gundam Wing, and is having too much fun to return to work yet. Needless to say, Triton is not with them because she does not own any part of GW.-
Chapter 2- Training
Only the blind truly appreciate sight. Especially those who became blind at some point in their life, or were cured of that blindness. Those are the ones that can realize exactly what sight is. Try explaining color or light to a blind person. I've yet to find a suitable explanation; it simply doesn't exist for them. And then, when that blindness is stripped away, the world is an entirely different place, a place alike to the old world, yet completely alien. Color is one of the most amazing things in the universe, and it transforms once familiar objects into the unknown. It's like learning to talk and walk all over gain. There are so many distractions to the previously black and white landscape. And the words. You have to learn the names of everything you thought you knew. The sky is blue (on clear days), the grass is green, except when it's yellow and brown, and the ocean, previously thought to be blue, is actually a grayish green.
Now, imagine that you wake up one morning, and you try to move your arm to turn of that screeching radio. But you can't move. You try again, harder, and your arm moves. You reach for the radio, but instead of turning it off, your hand passes straight through it.
These were the distractions that I had to deal with in those first weeks after the operation. I couldn't focus on anything because the colors kept distracting me, pulling my mind down paths of wonder that anything could ever be so amazing. I also discovered that I had a severely limited use of the powers that led us to be called "mutants". The first time it happened I was trying to communicate telepathically with one of the children I had a cautious truce with. Nothing. It bothered me a little, but I figured she was just blocking me. Then, one day when I had yet another splitting headache but not enough energy to reach for the Advil, I tried to lift it with my mind. Nothing happened. I tried again; I could feel the bottle, but somehow, I couldn't touch it. That alerted me to the fact that something was wrong. Cautiously, I delved into my own mind, slowly so as not to miss anything, and there it was. They had done more that change my eyes. Slowly, afraid of what I might find, I searched further, tracing the miniscule wires until I came to their purpose. What I found was the worst shock I had received in my life, including the surgery itself. They had choked off part of my mind! The chip formed a neat dome over the "supernatural" part of my brain, gold wires blocking some nerves and opening others wide. I had been transformed into a machine whose best use was as an assassin. Then I discovered the camera.
That camera records everything I do; every move I make, every breath I take, it's watching me. *Triton starts singing with the radio.." Every move you make, every breath you take, I'll be watching you!" Sorry folks, I couldn't resist. Ano.I don't own the song either (name? Name?) * Everything I see or think is recorded and immediately sent to a memory bank both outside and inside my mind. It took me a long time to learn how to manipulate it fully, but I did have a lot of time on my hands. The organization couldn't be sure that I was a success until they had run a few batteries of tests on me and put me through some rather intense training.
I was not allowed to leave my room with out the accompaniment of an officer, but for the first six months I didn't care. I was so busy sorting out my new powers of vision and the changes those wires made in my body that I didn't notice what they were doing to me. Strength testing, speed, both intellectually and physically, pain resistance and emotional balance. It wasn't until they started downloading war history into my memory that I woke up to reality. They wanted me to be an unfeeling killer, handing out death as if it was candy. They may even have been trying to get me to enjoy it.
By the time I realized this it was too late. The experiments and training had been engraved so deeply into my soul that no matter how hard I struggled against it, I couldn't stop. I absorbed the videos of death and war with a straight face presented to the world. But inside, I was crying. And they knew it. They beat that child into submission, using every sort of punishment they could devise. They never beat me physically though. It wouldn't have helped them. The face I gave them was becoming more and more permanent, and they wanted to touch the most private chambers of my soul. In this, they failed. Others completed the training they attempted to give me, and it would be a long time before anyone was able to touch that crying child.
The organization did, however, accomplish a few of their goals.
I was no longer afraid of death. It had become a part of me, a part of the existence I was to lead in the world. I could kill without mercy or thought. The computer inside myself closed off more sections, dimming my child hood until that point into a blurry memory, only to be accessed if I asked for it, and I had no wish to relive those years and bring the helpless agony back. About a year and a half from the day my life altered completely, the leader deemed me a success, and sent me out to face the world. An eight-year-old "child" against the war ridded colonies, without direction but for the knowledge that I must find a way to become the soldier needed to end the wars.
Notes: I apologize if this chapter is a little short, but it's a transition chapter. Yes to all of you who have read Episode Zero, next chapter is about Odin Lowe. I just had to get Heero to a situation where they can meet up. No, Heero is not yet the perfect soldier. I have plans for him before he becomes the Heero Yuy we all know. Heheheheheheheh.. anyway, thanks once again to my reviewers *waves wildly in their general direction* Please people, review!!!! I need support here, or I might become so depressed I stop writing (; I really don't want to do that because I like this story! Next chapter.. Soon, I hope.