Disclaimer: This is my story and my plot, but if I owned GW, would I be writing this? NO! Didn't think so.
Roses are Red
Chapter three: Heero
A young boy of seven years cocked the hand holding the knife before letting it go, embedding itself deeply into the chest of his target. The man fell and the young Japanese boy walked away to his guardian. They were posing as father and son and would be leaving to collect their payment. After arriving back at their room, the youth walked to his room to shine al of his knife. They were hand made, but held no distinctions that could trace back to him or Odin. The boy's bought ones were not throwing knives, and lay one on his arm, hip, and leg. He also had a back up knife in his bag.
Even at age eleven, the boy had a dictionary of ways to kill or give serious harm. The last five years of his life, he had been taught this by Odin Lowe, the man that killed his father and mother. The boy continued to speak Japanese, though Odin only spoke English. He could only read in English, if the boy had a name, he couldn't recall it. After shining his weapons, he put everything away and brought his single bag of possessions to Odin's room and waited. Odin stood and the Japanese boy looked up at him.
"Come on kid, after we get paid, I'm going to leave you there." A small head shot up in surprise. "You didn't think you could stay with me did you? I taught you enough to survive, and I only have one piece of advice," the blond looked at the boy's blue eyes before continuing, "follow your emotions." The boy nodded before continuing after his guardian's retreating back. On the road to the town with their payment, there wasn't very much talk.
"Do you know when your next mission is?" The boy asked.
"Yes, it's in this town."
"You have to watch out, you're getting old."
"I don't need to listen to anything a YOUNG boy like you says." There wasn't any other conversation until they entered the building marked to collect the money. Before either could say or do anything, a long knife found it's way into Odin's stomach. Another nicked the boy's neck as a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders.
The boy brought his arm underneath the man holding him's arm and in front of his neck, between the knife and his neck. His other arm elbowed the man's groin as his foot slammed down onto the man's foot. The man jumped back quickly, cutting through the boy's arm instead of his neck. Another man sprung at the boy and one of the boy's nice knives weren't so nice anymore as blood coated it. A hand grabbed his hand with the blade and by pressing on his hand, easily making him release the knife. He was spun to face an old man that was much stronger than he looked.
"What's your name, boy?" He asked. The Japanese youth kept silent. "I think you will work just fine, just fine indeed." (AN: If anything happens to offend someone, it was not intentional. The terms used are not something I use, but instead are to separate the different people. That is all, it is not to offend anyone. Again, I apologize in advance if anyone is offended.) The boy just looked up at him. "Take the body out." The old man said as he pulled the boy. "You belong to me now, you are number 23 and will be called Jap. Names are irrelevant and right now, you are going to your room. Your training will start tomorrow."
The boy's nose wrinkled in disgust at the name. He tried to jerk free, but was backhanded in the face and his arm was twisted viciously. A door opened to show the room that they arrived at and it had nothing in it. "This is where you will stay." Was all the warning he got before being pushed in. Darkness was the only thing able to be seen. A few stray rays of light shinned through the top from a thin slit about four feet higher than he was. The hard wooden floor was his bed and he woke up sore.
The door opened and a man walked in, ridding the boy of his clothes and weapons before putting a plain green tank shirt with the sleeves ripped off and tight black trousers that had most of the legs ripped off. He picked irritably at it until his arm was grabbed and he was pulled out. At the door, ugly yellow shoes were forced on his feet and he was taken to a room with chairs and many other children in the same outfit that he was in.
He noticed that no one in the class even looked to him, not even the boy he was placed next to. The instructor just continued his lecture and the students listened, nothing in front of them or a bag beside them. Number 23 started to listen, but found he couldn't understand anything being said.
"French." The man that brought him said before leaving. He began to listen to the man up front and watched his actions. Soon, he began to understand bits and pieces of what was being said. After that, the instructor left and another entered. This time, when he got to the front, he motioned to two boys in front and one grabbed pallets and paper while the other got writing sticks. When everyone had a pallet, paper, and stick, the instructor went to the board up front and began writing long equations, explaining how to solve it as he did, number 23 saw that no one wrote this down, so he didn't either. When the man wrote eight equations, the others began writing, most without a sound. 23 and a couple other got hit in the back for writing too loudly.
By the time this instructor left, 23 had been hit twenty times for missing one problem and not finishing three. This time everyone was taken outside and made to run five miles and the last five people got beaten, 23 being saved by being the sixth to last when he finished. They were then made to do numerous other exercises and 23 soon found out that this was their warm up and this time when the trainer left, the boys, and a rare girl, stretched before the next session began. 23 found that the standard were made on the best, past or present, 23 was beaten multiple times, but it was nothing compared to Mick, 9, who collapsed on the obstacle course. When he landed, a sickening crack filled the air and 23 watched stunned. Most of the dead people he had seen were adults. He got another beating for that.
It took him a few days to get the most important rule; the only thing that mattered was himself. When they were aiming knives and practicing killing, 23 was the best. He became accustomed to learning quickly and Dr. J expected languages to be learned in a month, six weeks for writing. If it took longer, in many cases it did, then the person was whipped five times a day. Mathematics were to be quick and accurate. They had to be in top physical shape and knowledge of the human body had to be memorized. All types of way to fix injuries were learned. For no reason was anyone to miss a day, not for illness or broken bone. If an instructor wished to speak with 23, his number woul be used, the other subject were to call each other by their name that J gave them. It was mostly just an ethnic slur. Three years after he got there, the new recruits stopped, only thirty people were there and at least one person died every three months. This rate was risen to once a month for a year until Dr. J brought all of the trainees to the assembly room.
"Today, there will be a fight to the finish! All of you will be given a knife and let loose in separate rooms. Tem minutes after you start, a gas will be let loose into the rooms quickly, killing those still in them. It will continue to last for a week, at the end of the week, there should only be one person left alive. If there are more, all survivors will be placed in a large room where one person will live, I will kill all survivors if you refuse to fight and the death WILL be painful. Take them away." Dr. J said and the soldiers, for that's what they were, were led to their quarters.
Five minutes later, a knife was slid in and a shout saying, "Begin." was heard. 23 walked through the door and quickly stretched across the ceiling, ten feet up. It was something Odin had taught him and he planned to survive. He crawled silently across the ceiling, when he saw someone, he moved lower and used strong arms to hold him up as his legs swung down, knife logged between them and entering the other's skull. He would drop, collect his knife and their knife, or knives before going back up. If he had more than three knives, he would throw it to the people and on a few occasions, fought hand to hand.
During the night, he would rest tired muscles in a box or somewhere well hidden and go into a half sleep. If someone or something came near, he would wake and stay on alert until they were gone. Early in the morning he would catch those that didn't rest and kill them in their sleep. 23 killed his last opponent on the last day, not an hour before the sleeping gases flooded the building. At eleven years old, he was the winner.
Through the next year, everything was one-on-one and everything was harder. For every mistake, the punishment was worse. The name Jap was never used, nor was 23. Dr. J gave him the name Heero Yuy as he had earned a name.
"Heero, come over here." The stotic twelve year old walked to the aging doctor and stood before a tall man with a rich air around him. Light brown hair was neatly pulled back. The man next to him was only slightly shorter with long white hair that didn't take away from his youthful appearance. "This is Treize Khushrenada and Zechs Marquise." The man said.
"This is your perfect soldier? A small boy? He looks ten." The brunette stated skeptically.
"Don't take him from face value. He knows over thirty languages and is an expert in combat. Ask him almost any question and he will most probably know it. He can break through most things and can pick almost any lock." Dr. J boasted.
"This skinny little kid? He will be handsome when he grows, but that's all I expect him to be." Treize drawled. "But don't worry doctor, he's not your problem anymore." Heero looked sharply behind the doctor without moving his head and saw the man cut his head off. When the man aimed for Heero, he dodged up close to the man and broke his arm before stabbing him with his own sword. He crouched slightly, taking in everything around him in a glance. "Take him, alive." Treize said and people began moving in on the young boy.
Ten people that wielded swords with ease approached the boy armed only with himself and a sword, not his choice of weapon. He took three out before one of them crashed the handle to the boy's head.
When Heero awoke, the blond was sitting across from him. "You have two options, a soldier or a slave."
"For what?" Heero's emotionless voice asked.
"Treize. It is the winning side, soon the entire world will be ruled under Treize." The man said proudly.
"No."
"No what?" Zechs asked.
"No, I will not be your soldier."
"Then a slave it is." He said before exiting. Heero was kept there for two weeks and a day. his figure, which was tied to the wall at the elbows and knees, was emaciated from lack of food and water. Something was pressed to his dried lips and warm water was let into his mouth.
"Heero was it?" A male's voice asked. Prussian eyes glared at the young soldier. "Treize would like to see you." He said after untying the boy's knees and pulling him up. He was led to a room with abut a hundred soldiers and Treize was up in the front.
"I will give you one more chance to become my soldier." He said. Heero said nothing. "Take him away and hydrate him. Minimal food to prevent escape." The man's silk voice was hard and rough hands pulled him away.
The next four years, Heero kept learning and learned all of Treize's plans, and the flaws. When soldiers in the higher ranks wanted to relieve their stress, they would go to Heero. Sometimes a light beating would follow while other times he would have struggles mending himself.
If they were away from civilization for long periods of time, the men would relieve their sexual tensions on his body. he was short and slight with a slightly feminine build. His face was masculine, so most times he would be taken from behind.
Zech's younger sister, Relena, had an obsession with the Japanese youth and shortly after he was able, the girl got permission from her brother to have sex with him. Relena was a year older then Heero and was very pretty, but Heero disliked her. She forced him to orgasm and Heero hated it when his body betrayed him. It was due to Relena that at fourteen, Heero had a daughter. A daughter that was killed shortly after birth.
While Zechs rarely beat him, when he did, it was bad and it was especially bad when Relena was pregnant. Most nights that nine months Heero spent unconscious in a bloody heap.
When Treize revealed that they were going to the Winner kingdom, Heero thought nothing of it until he heard some people saying that Treize killed the king in hopes of the prince surrendering. Heero didn't doubt that if this prince didn't surrender to Treize's sugar-coated tongue, then another battle would be fought. It was only a matter of time until Treize was in control of yet another nation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Didn't I tell you this was going to be longer? Well? Did I? I did it! So ha! Sorry for all of those Heero fans out there, but I like seeing him tortured mentally or physically, don't matter to me. I haven't decided whether it will be yaoi or not, if it is, the pairings will be 2x1 and maybe a bit of 3x4, personally, 2x1 is my favorite but it's so hard to find these days!
Thank you to magic-shield for the review. I don't review until i have at least one review per chappie, and i have the others typed up in the limited time that i have. C-Ya! ~C-Bear
Roses are Red
Chapter three: Heero
A young boy of seven years cocked the hand holding the knife before letting it go, embedding itself deeply into the chest of his target. The man fell and the young Japanese boy walked away to his guardian. They were posing as father and son and would be leaving to collect their payment. After arriving back at their room, the youth walked to his room to shine al of his knife. They were hand made, but held no distinctions that could trace back to him or Odin. The boy's bought ones were not throwing knives, and lay one on his arm, hip, and leg. He also had a back up knife in his bag.
Even at age eleven, the boy had a dictionary of ways to kill or give serious harm. The last five years of his life, he had been taught this by Odin Lowe, the man that killed his father and mother. The boy continued to speak Japanese, though Odin only spoke English. He could only read in English, if the boy had a name, he couldn't recall it. After shining his weapons, he put everything away and brought his single bag of possessions to Odin's room and waited. Odin stood and the Japanese boy looked up at him.
"Come on kid, after we get paid, I'm going to leave you there." A small head shot up in surprise. "You didn't think you could stay with me did you? I taught you enough to survive, and I only have one piece of advice," the blond looked at the boy's blue eyes before continuing, "follow your emotions." The boy nodded before continuing after his guardian's retreating back. On the road to the town with their payment, there wasn't very much talk.
"Do you know when your next mission is?" The boy asked.
"Yes, it's in this town."
"You have to watch out, you're getting old."
"I don't need to listen to anything a YOUNG boy like you says." There wasn't any other conversation until they entered the building marked to collect the money. Before either could say or do anything, a long knife found it's way into Odin's stomach. Another nicked the boy's neck as a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders.
The boy brought his arm underneath the man holding him's arm and in front of his neck, between the knife and his neck. His other arm elbowed the man's groin as his foot slammed down onto the man's foot. The man jumped back quickly, cutting through the boy's arm instead of his neck. Another man sprung at the boy and one of the boy's nice knives weren't so nice anymore as blood coated it. A hand grabbed his hand with the blade and by pressing on his hand, easily making him release the knife. He was spun to face an old man that was much stronger than he looked.
"What's your name, boy?" He asked. The Japanese youth kept silent. "I think you will work just fine, just fine indeed." (AN: If anything happens to offend someone, it was not intentional. The terms used are not something I use, but instead are to separate the different people. That is all, it is not to offend anyone. Again, I apologize in advance if anyone is offended.) The boy just looked up at him. "Take the body out." The old man said as he pulled the boy. "You belong to me now, you are number 23 and will be called Jap. Names are irrelevant and right now, you are going to your room. Your training will start tomorrow."
The boy's nose wrinkled in disgust at the name. He tried to jerk free, but was backhanded in the face and his arm was twisted viciously. A door opened to show the room that they arrived at and it had nothing in it. "This is where you will stay." Was all the warning he got before being pushed in. Darkness was the only thing able to be seen. A few stray rays of light shinned through the top from a thin slit about four feet higher than he was. The hard wooden floor was his bed and he woke up sore.
The door opened and a man walked in, ridding the boy of his clothes and weapons before putting a plain green tank shirt with the sleeves ripped off and tight black trousers that had most of the legs ripped off. He picked irritably at it until his arm was grabbed and he was pulled out. At the door, ugly yellow shoes were forced on his feet and he was taken to a room with chairs and many other children in the same outfit that he was in.
He noticed that no one in the class even looked to him, not even the boy he was placed next to. The instructor just continued his lecture and the students listened, nothing in front of them or a bag beside them. Number 23 started to listen, but found he couldn't understand anything being said.
"French." The man that brought him said before leaving. He began to listen to the man up front and watched his actions. Soon, he began to understand bits and pieces of what was being said. After that, the instructor left and another entered. This time, when he got to the front, he motioned to two boys in front and one grabbed pallets and paper while the other got writing sticks. When everyone had a pallet, paper, and stick, the instructor went to the board up front and began writing long equations, explaining how to solve it as he did, number 23 saw that no one wrote this down, so he didn't either. When the man wrote eight equations, the others began writing, most without a sound. 23 and a couple other got hit in the back for writing too loudly.
By the time this instructor left, 23 had been hit twenty times for missing one problem and not finishing three. This time everyone was taken outside and made to run five miles and the last five people got beaten, 23 being saved by being the sixth to last when he finished. They were then made to do numerous other exercises and 23 soon found out that this was their warm up and this time when the trainer left, the boys, and a rare girl, stretched before the next session began. 23 found that the standard were made on the best, past or present, 23 was beaten multiple times, but it was nothing compared to Mick, 9, who collapsed on the obstacle course. When he landed, a sickening crack filled the air and 23 watched stunned. Most of the dead people he had seen were adults. He got another beating for that.
It took him a few days to get the most important rule; the only thing that mattered was himself. When they were aiming knives and practicing killing, 23 was the best. He became accustomed to learning quickly and Dr. J expected languages to be learned in a month, six weeks for writing. If it took longer, in many cases it did, then the person was whipped five times a day. Mathematics were to be quick and accurate. They had to be in top physical shape and knowledge of the human body had to be memorized. All types of way to fix injuries were learned. For no reason was anyone to miss a day, not for illness or broken bone. If an instructor wished to speak with 23, his number woul be used, the other subject were to call each other by their name that J gave them. It was mostly just an ethnic slur. Three years after he got there, the new recruits stopped, only thirty people were there and at least one person died every three months. This rate was risen to once a month for a year until Dr. J brought all of the trainees to the assembly room.
"Today, there will be a fight to the finish! All of you will be given a knife and let loose in separate rooms. Tem minutes after you start, a gas will be let loose into the rooms quickly, killing those still in them. It will continue to last for a week, at the end of the week, there should only be one person left alive. If there are more, all survivors will be placed in a large room where one person will live, I will kill all survivors if you refuse to fight and the death WILL be painful. Take them away." Dr. J said and the soldiers, for that's what they were, were led to their quarters.
Five minutes later, a knife was slid in and a shout saying, "Begin." was heard. 23 walked through the door and quickly stretched across the ceiling, ten feet up. It was something Odin had taught him and he planned to survive. He crawled silently across the ceiling, when he saw someone, he moved lower and used strong arms to hold him up as his legs swung down, knife logged between them and entering the other's skull. He would drop, collect his knife and their knife, or knives before going back up. If he had more than three knives, he would throw it to the people and on a few occasions, fought hand to hand.
During the night, he would rest tired muscles in a box or somewhere well hidden and go into a half sleep. If someone or something came near, he would wake and stay on alert until they were gone. Early in the morning he would catch those that didn't rest and kill them in their sleep. 23 killed his last opponent on the last day, not an hour before the sleeping gases flooded the building. At eleven years old, he was the winner.
Through the next year, everything was one-on-one and everything was harder. For every mistake, the punishment was worse. The name Jap was never used, nor was 23. Dr. J gave him the name Heero Yuy as he had earned a name.
"Heero, come over here." The stotic twelve year old walked to the aging doctor and stood before a tall man with a rich air around him. Light brown hair was neatly pulled back. The man next to him was only slightly shorter with long white hair that didn't take away from his youthful appearance. "This is Treize Khushrenada and Zechs Marquise." The man said.
"This is your perfect soldier? A small boy? He looks ten." The brunette stated skeptically.
"Don't take him from face value. He knows over thirty languages and is an expert in combat. Ask him almost any question and he will most probably know it. He can break through most things and can pick almost any lock." Dr. J boasted.
"This skinny little kid? He will be handsome when he grows, but that's all I expect him to be." Treize drawled. "But don't worry doctor, he's not your problem anymore." Heero looked sharply behind the doctor without moving his head and saw the man cut his head off. When the man aimed for Heero, he dodged up close to the man and broke his arm before stabbing him with his own sword. He crouched slightly, taking in everything around him in a glance. "Take him, alive." Treize said and people began moving in on the young boy.
Ten people that wielded swords with ease approached the boy armed only with himself and a sword, not his choice of weapon. He took three out before one of them crashed the handle to the boy's head.
When Heero awoke, the blond was sitting across from him. "You have two options, a soldier or a slave."
"For what?" Heero's emotionless voice asked.
"Treize. It is the winning side, soon the entire world will be ruled under Treize." The man said proudly.
"No."
"No what?" Zechs asked.
"No, I will not be your soldier."
"Then a slave it is." He said before exiting. Heero was kept there for two weeks and a day. his figure, which was tied to the wall at the elbows and knees, was emaciated from lack of food and water. Something was pressed to his dried lips and warm water was let into his mouth.
"Heero was it?" A male's voice asked. Prussian eyes glared at the young soldier. "Treize would like to see you." He said after untying the boy's knees and pulling him up. He was led to a room with abut a hundred soldiers and Treize was up in the front.
"I will give you one more chance to become my soldier." He said. Heero said nothing. "Take him away and hydrate him. Minimal food to prevent escape." The man's silk voice was hard and rough hands pulled him away.
The next four years, Heero kept learning and learned all of Treize's plans, and the flaws. When soldiers in the higher ranks wanted to relieve their stress, they would go to Heero. Sometimes a light beating would follow while other times he would have struggles mending himself.
If they were away from civilization for long periods of time, the men would relieve their sexual tensions on his body. he was short and slight with a slightly feminine build. His face was masculine, so most times he would be taken from behind.
Zech's younger sister, Relena, had an obsession with the Japanese youth and shortly after he was able, the girl got permission from her brother to have sex with him. Relena was a year older then Heero and was very pretty, but Heero disliked her. She forced him to orgasm and Heero hated it when his body betrayed him. It was due to Relena that at fourteen, Heero had a daughter. A daughter that was killed shortly after birth.
While Zechs rarely beat him, when he did, it was bad and it was especially bad when Relena was pregnant. Most nights that nine months Heero spent unconscious in a bloody heap.
When Treize revealed that they were going to the Winner kingdom, Heero thought nothing of it until he heard some people saying that Treize killed the king in hopes of the prince surrendering. Heero didn't doubt that if this prince didn't surrender to Treize's sugar-coated tongue, then another battle would be fought. It was only a matter of time until Treize was in control of yet another nation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Didn't I tell you this was going to be longer? Well? Did I? I did it! So ha! Sorry for all of those Heero fans out there, but I like seeing him tortured mentally or physically, don't matter to me. I haven't decided whether it will be yaoi or not, if it is, the pairings will be 2x1 and maybe a bit of 3x4, personally, 2x1 is my favorite but it's so hard to find these days!
Thank you to magic-shield for the review. I don't review until i have at least one review per chappie, and i have the others typed up in the limited time that i have. C-Ya! ~C-Bear