Chapter One: To Hell and Back...
He awoke quickly, startled into consciousness by the sound of gunshots. Scurrying out of bed, he dressed quickly, and went to see what the commotion was being caused by. Master would not like to be awoken in such a manner.
He found guests in the greeting room, Guests with Others. He didn't have proper names for them, and was too afraid to ask. 'Guests' were those people who came to Master's parties, and Others were those like him, who served the Guests and Masters. There were four of them, two Guests, and two Others. He watched discreetly as the tallest Guest put the gun away. His Other was small and brown haired, and wore black. He looked bored. The other Guest had long, bright hair of a color he had no name for. It was pushed back with a bandana. His Other was frightening, with short spiky hair and an eyepatch. He admired his scars, and wondered how they'd gotten there. They looked old. He realized that they looked slightly familiar, but he had no memories before waking up at his Master's house six months ago, and couldn't place their faces.
His Master showed up a few minutes later, looking flustered. He noticed that there was a dead body on the ground, and his Master seemed angry about it. They spoke quickly and quietly, and then his Master called for him.
"STARR!" he blinked. His Master sounded angry. Wasting no time, he hurried from his hiding place and knelt at his Master's feet like he'd been taught. His Master struck him on the side of the face, sending him sprawling. "Did you invite them here, Starr!" he asked. He heard a gasp from one of the Others, but didn't look up. He didn't say anything, either. "Tell me." his master said.
"No Master," he said softly. "I did not."
Can you hear me? He blinked at what sounded like a voice in his head, but ignored it.
"Who did, do you know?" His Master was speaking again.
"No, Master, I do not." His voice was just as quiet as before. His Master kicked him hard in the stomach. He curled around the pain, but made no noise. Another kick to his back, and his Master glanced at the Guests. "You are not welcome here, Schwarz." he said viciously.
"I came for the boy," said another voice. "He is not yours."
"Starr? No, not mine. But he will listen to no one else." Master smirked.
Omi? Is that you? "Get up," one of the Guests said. He wanted to obey... it was an order. But he knew that his Master would beat him into death if he obeyed the Guest now. Get up. He won't touch you. Nagi.. The voice in his head began speaking to someone else. Something flashed through his mind. /'Are you insane?' 'No. I'm Nagi.'/ It was just the words, and then it was gone, leaving him confused. His Master was grinning.
"You see? He will not eat unless you tell him to, and he will not listen to what anyone but me tells him. If I were to give him to you, he would starve."
"What's the difference? You don't feed him anyway," came came a low drawling voice. It was full of condescending amusement, and it sent shivers down his spine.
"Release him to us, or you will die." said the first voice. He still hadn't moved from his position on the floor. His muscles were cramping up, but that was nothing new. If only he could relax slightly, it would be better.
"Starr, get up and get this filth out of my hallway." Master said. He leapt to his feet and began dragging the dead body of the guard from the room. He didn't know where his Master wanted him to put it, he'd only said 'out'. He did the first thing that came to mind, and pulled him towards the kitchen. Suddenly, the weight was lighter, and he stumbled. His Master whirled on him. "Clumsy idiot!" he shouted, and pulled the riding whip from his belt. His face flaming in humiliation at being beaten in front of Guests, he made no move to protect himself, and simply lay there allowing Master to vent. For some reason, instead of placating him, this enraged him, and the blows fell harder and faster than ever. He strove to keep the whimpers and cries inside, for making noise would only incur a greater wrath. His Master struck his already bruised neck repeatedly, and he whimpered. Red faced, his Master snatched him from the ground by wrapping a hand around his throat and slamming him into the wall. He was by no means a child, but compared with the bulk of his master, he was tiny, and powerless. His hands lay limp by his sides even as his Master choked the life from him. Fight you idiot. Strike him! Struggle! The voice again.
A memory... /'Are you insane?' 'No. I'm Nagi.'/ Everything was darkening...
The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, next to his Master. Tensing, he waited for another blow, one that never fell. "It's okay now. He's dead." A soft voice above him spoke, and he moved nothing but his eyes to see who it was. The tall Guest with glasses, the one who'd shot the hall guard. He realized that he was lying in blood, but that not all of it was his own. His Master wasn't breathing. Would never breathe again, not with the hole in his head, and one in his chest. Suddenly, he felt lost. This man was all he'd known for six months. Before that, he had nothing. His entire life was a blank, one huge black spot in his mind, except for this man. He'd clothed and fed him, given him a place to sleep and live... He'd asked for very little in return. Starr, he'd called him, because the light in his eyes was like a star at night. Starr was his pride and joy, because he didn't make a sound, no matter what was done to him. Master passed him around to Guests, who always left with a smile, which in turn made Master smile. He was allowed a few luxuries like books occasionally when Master was feeling generous. He'd never been happy, but he survived. Now these Guests had killed Master.
What was going to happen to him? He felt a moment of overwhelming fear, and then the voice came again. Get up.
Shakily, he got to his feet, and stood there, swaying. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, afraid to look up. If they killed Master, what were they going to do to him?
"Omi?"
That name again. Who was Omi? Was it him? Were they friends from Before?
Long-hair started laughing. "Friends? You could say that." He wondered if he'd spoken aloud. He must have, because the man had definately answered him. Without saying anything more, he turned away, still laughing.
The shortest Other came to him. "Omi, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that I'd get you in trouble, I was only trying to help."
He dipped his head in a small, respectful bow, not saying anything. He wondered what was going to happen now. The Guest with glasses knelt down beside him, bringing him almost eye-level. "Your name is Omi," he said, firmly. "I expect you to answer to that name. Understand?" He nodded.
"Say it." Glasses said.
"O..Omi." It felt... familiar. He nodded, approval in his eyes. He looked around at the people who'd come in with him, and for a moment Omi wondered if they were speaking to eachother. It had the look of a conversation, although no ones mouths were moving. Long-hair smirked at him. We ARE holding a conversation. You just can't hear us.
The voice. Wait... was it coming from Long-hair? The smirk widened, although he didn't look at Omi again. Omi felt pleased with himself that he'd figured it out. He had no name for it, but somehow, the elder man knew his thoughts, could speak to him in his thoughts. It was... comforting, somehow, that even if he wasn't allowed to speak, someone would hear him.
Crawford frowned. /We can't leave him here/ he said to the others. We rescued him, and now we've got to do something with him. We can't drop him on Weiss, now, either. I didn't see this far ahead; I have no idea what's going to happen. All I know is that we have to save him.
Schuldig nodded. It's like he's a completely different person. I don't know what happened to him six months ago, but whatever it did, it worked him over pretty good. He's only just figured out I'm a telepath. If the guy wasn't already dead, I'd kill him. Some of the things he's imagining are beyond horrible.
You, Schulidg, developing a conscience? Nagi asked, but paled when Schuldig let him in on what Omi thought they were going to do to him. What HAPPENED to him? he finally choked out.
From what I can tell, he has no memories before whatever happened six months ago. As far as he's concerned, that's where his life began. But since he woke up here with no memories, they've beaten, raped, and abused him to the point that he's broken. He was nothing more than a slave to them, and we're going to have to work long and hard to get him out of that idea before we even think of giving him his memories back. Schuldig said. Crawford blanched.
I was afraid of that. he said softly. One, we canNOT let Weiss know that their team-mate is still alive. They've mourned his death, and moved on, and for him to drop in on them like this would cause so many problems I cannot even begin to count them. Two, we're going to have to be careful around him for a while. I don't like doing it, but I have no choice but to take him in, and restore him. He's going to be very useful to us in the future, although the specifications are blurry.
Farfarello, up until now, was scowling silently. Why must we take him in at all? he asked, his mental voice low and controlled, a contrast to his normal insanity. Why could we not kill him now?
I just said that. I am loathe to admit it, but we NEED him for something. But, we need him the way he WAS, or at least close enough that he can pretend. Once he has outlived his usefulness, then you can kill him, but not until then, and not until I say.
Farfarello nodded, appeased. Nagi sighed, and knelt down beside Omi. "Omi," he said, and instantly, Omi's attention snapped onto him. He didn't raise his eyes, but Nagi had the feeling that he would do anything within his power, and even a few things without, if he were to be ordered right now. That was not what he had planned. "Look me in the eyes." he said quietly. Omi did so, but the struggle was evident. "If someone is talking to you, you look them in the eyes for now." Omi nodded, not looking away. "We're going to take you to our house. You're not going to have to do any of the things that you did here." Omi nodded slowly when he paused, and Nagi nodded too. Omi felt happy that he'd done something right.
"Get up," Crawford said again, and was slightly mollified to see that he did so. /Why am I doing this? He's supposedly my enemy, so why do I feel so compelled to take care of him/ He kept the battle a secret from Schuldig, knowing that if the telepath got hold of that particular bone he'd gnaw it into dust. Schuldig, thought was having similar thoughts.
Where he'd once reveled in causing mayhem and pain to the little ants of Weiss, especially the littlest one - he was so much fun to play with! - now he wanted to hug him. HUG him//I'm going insane.../ he thought privately. Nagi had held prior interest in Omi, and seeing him like this, like he used to be, ate at him.
/I could have prevented this by getting you out of the building/ he thought sadly. /I'm sorry./
Farfarello was the only one who didn't feel an irrational need to protect the blonde, although he did feel his icy hatred melting ever so slightly. Weiss thought of him as a feelingless maniac, and while he could feel no physical pain, and he was insane, he was not completely without mental resources, or a 'heart', and it ached for the young man in time with its beating to His tears.
Schwarz was slowly unwinding, slowly becoming more human than Weiss could ever hope to be again. They still killed; it wasn't their mission, only a job. But they had failed in their attempt to 'rule the world' and Crawford felt no more stirrings for like antics. He was much to happy simply living life, which, with as strange room-mates as he had, was becoming some semblance of normal. In his contentment with the way things were going, he found a strange desire to give others that same contentment. He knew Nagi would never become happy, but he could at least have something. Farfarello was insane, and needed the kill to remain coherent sometimes, but it was more of a tension release. Schuldig's shields were better than ever, and he knew that unless something broke them, he'd be good for years. His team was settled into their niche in life, all possible future problems had been eliminated, and he was starting to become content with everything, until that vision had screwed everything up. Somehow, someday, Omi would be very very important to the survival of his team, and for their survival, they required his. Thus, they'd gone into the lions den, and retrieved him.
Crawford had known the boy in Weiss. He knew that he was spunky and outgoing, and passionate, and to see him huddled in a corner covered in bruises and some old blood was... more than disconcerting. His clothes were months old and looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks; they were ripped and stained, and he looked a lot like Nagi did shortly after Crawford had rescued him from the streets. With Schuldig as a guide, he was given insight into Omi's mindset, and he was in awe that someone could do that to another human being in just six short months. The actual breaking had been done within the first three, he mused. The last three months he's just been beating him down. Some part of him he'd thought long dead fired to life, and his paternal instincts took over, demanding that he protect and shield Omi as he'd protected and shielded Nagi.
He suddenly remembered Nagi's prior interest in the blonde hacker, and made a mental note to ask him about it.
Staring at Omi, who stared at the floor, the four of them contemplated this new situation, and how they'd gotten themselves into it.
He'd been to hell and back, and now they had to see what they could do with what was left.
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i like how this is turning out, really. it's kind of surprising to see what one tiny spark of inspiration plus boredom can do.