The boy stared blankly at the catwalk, counting down the seconds he had left in his head. For the first time since he could remember, he didn't know what to do...at all. He couldn't ever remember seeing Weaver try to turn the mobile suit. This was a big problem and one he couldn't shoot. Twenty seconds left. Much longer and he would be caught in the explosion and probably die. The boy clenched his hands into fists. No wonder Odin could never be proud of him. He couldn't even do a mission on his own without messing up.
"Twenty seconds," said the operative as calmly as if announcing the weather. "Why aren't you moving?" The boy remained silent. He wasn't about to tell the operative that he couldn't do it. He was supposed to be better then this. Not just a stupid kid. Suddenly there was a beeping sound and the cockpit doors hissed open. Before the boy could react a hand yanked him out of the suit and sent him stumbling onto the catwalk. He caught his balance and turned to see a shadowy figure settling itself in the cockpit.
"Hey!" he shouted.
"You should go home before you get hurt," said the voice of the operative. The boy clenched his teeth. That--He'd spoken like the boy wasn't any older then five!
"I'm not a little kid!" the boy yelled, the cockpit closing on his words. The mobile suit shuddered to life. The boy flung himself away from the railing with an annoyed growl and pounded down the catwalk. As much as he would like to claw his way back into the mobile suit, there was only about ten seconds left on the bomb timer. Below the soldiers were calling for reinforcements and more ammunition.
Annoyance knotted his stomach. All they needed was a few rocket launchers with people who could actually aim. Then it would be a simple matter of taking out the cockpit. A pilot in a million bloody pieces wasn't much of a threat. Why was it that every singe adult he met besides Odin was so damn stupid?
The boy forcefully cleared the thoughts from his head. This wasn't the time. Seven seconds left. If he didn't find a ladder soon, he'd have to jump and hope he didn't break his leg in the process. Fortunately, when he was only a few steps away from the hangar doors, one presented itself, nearly hidden in the natural shadows of the room. A crumpled body lay in front of it. The boy took only enough time to register the corpse as the old mechanic before sliding down the metal ladder with a practiced grace.
His shoes hit the floor with a solid thunk. The mobile suit was only a few feet away, moving at a slow, but steady pace. The boy ran after it. A few bullets pounded the ground around him but couldn't afford to look behind. Five seconds left. Ugh. He was going to be caught in the aftermath of the blast no matter how fast he ran. Suddenly. Strangely. The mobile suit stopped, shoulder facing the open hanger. The boy didn't stop to think why. He scrambled over huge metallic foot and ducked behind a leg just as a gigantic roar vibrated the air around him. Bits of flaming debris rocketed past. Sudden shrieking alarms ripped through the air, making the boy jump. A gun was suddenly comforting weight in his palm, although he couldn't remember reaching for it. He immediately tuned the alarms out, returning his concentration on the situation at hand.
The leo moved off abruptly, as if obeying an order. The boy spared a second to watch it as it effortlessly tore away the gate that separated the military compound with the rest of the colony. The movements were a little clunky and obviously not the same professional quality as Weaver...but there was skill there. The boy suddenly felt stupid for being mad at the operative for taking over. Whoever he was, he certainly knew what he was doing. Fine. Then the boy would act as backup. It didn't really matter who did the mission as long as it got done right.
He ran toward the mangled gate, thinking briefly of hiding the gun, but just as quickly dismissing the idea. Everything was moving too fast to bother pretending. He heard the yelling before he reached the gate and what he saw was a chaos he had never before encountered. People were swarming the streets, in a disorganized mess. Some carrying suitcases, some demanding to know what was going on, and quite a few tying to get as far away as they could from the renegade leo thundering down the streets. Too few soldiers were trying to force them back onto the sidewalk for some reason. A revving engine soon bought the boy's attention to a roofless military vehicle not far down the street. A woman was putting a missile launcher into the back seat and giving orders to the stern faced man behind the wheel, yelling at the top of her lungs just to be heard.
"The red team is moving in to intercept, but I don't know what he's aiming for yet so I want you to take him out from behind!"
"Yes, sir!"
The boy tensed. This was his only opportunity. He would have to be quick and precise. Hopefully the soldier had just as fast a reaction time or the mission would end rather abruptly. The jeep started down the street, moving faster then the boy had anticipated. He launched himself into its path. The soldier cursed in alarm and jerked the wheel. Tires screeched and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air. The boy suddenly found himself staring at the door of the vehicle, only a few scant inches from him.
"Goddamnit, you stupid brat! What-" Then he was dead. After slipping the gun into his pocket, the boy jerked the door open, making the solider tumble limply to the ground. The jeep started rolling. The boy jumped in, annoyed at having to scoot down in order to slam his foot on the break. From this position, he couldn't see much out the windshield except the mobile suit's back which was rapidly getting further away. The boy shifted his foot to the gas. He'd been in cars all the time with Odin, but being behind the wheel was completely different. The unexpected burst of speed caught him completely by surprise and suddenly the world seemed to be going by too fast. Blindingly fast. Uncontrollably fast.
Get a grip on yourself! The thoughts, which were undoubtedly his own, took Odin's voice. If you didn't want to handle it, you shouldn't have gotten in! The boy bit the inside of his lip until he could taste blood, forcing himself to concentrate. The street ahead was remarkably free of people, from what he could tell. They probably wanted to stay as far away from the leo as they could. Suddenly the jeep viciously bounced over something. In a slight panic, the boy hit the break with both feet. The vehicle spun wildly, finally broad siding a streetlamp and sending the boy crashing into the opposite door. Quickly, the boy shook off the daze and stood on the squeaky seat to see what he'd run over. The dip in the road! But the leo was heading away from it. The operative was probably heading directly for the communications tower! How in the world was he supposed to tell him though?
The boy collapsed down into the seat, tucking his legs to his chin. From the moment it started, this mission had been one disaster after another. At least Odin was probably free. There was no way he wouldn't be able to escape, judging by what a mess the colony was in now. Still...the mission had to be complete. The boy couldn't just simply drop it. Odin always said that once you started something, you had to see it through to the end. The engine began to sputter. The boy uncurled himself to turn it off and stopped when the radio caught his eye. It was a communications radio, but the part to talk into had fallen off somewhere. He pulled up the twisting cord that connected the part to the rest of the radio and was relieved to find everything still attached. He turned the radio on but hesitated a moment before speaking. It was a long shot. He had no idea which frequency the mobile suits operated on, or if he could talk to them at all with this. Unexpectedly, the wailing alarms cut off, surprising the boy for a moment. A familiar thunder rolled through the relative silence. Getting to his knees, he looked behind him and he clenched the mouth piece tightly. Two leos were coming up the street and were nearly on top of them. Where had they come from?! The tower was the other way and the boy had thought all the other suits were in the hangar! Why hadn't the idiot Burke told him about this? That was it. Forget becoming an adult. All he wanted to do was get taller. The boy slammed his thumb on the talk button, hoping that he would be able to connect and something would go right for him today.
"Operative!" he shouted. "The tower is guarded by three leos! You have to hit the juncture behind you!"
"Confirmed," came the calm voice. The stolen leo turned but before anything could happen, a woman's voice crackled over the intercom.
"We'll shoot you down before you even lift that rifle so don't even think about it." It was from the enemy mobile suits. They were standing right before the power juncture. The street was too narrow to stand side by side but they were standing close enough together for that not to make much of a difference. As for them shooting the operative down...well, there was good chance of that. But the operative might make it if he was willing to take the risk.
"Surrender now!" the woman ordered. The boy watched astonished as the operative slowly knelt to put the beam gun down. Damnit, no!
"You coward!" he snarled into the mouthpiece. "If you were going to surrender, why did you even join the rebellion in the first place?!"
"I was ordered to help but not get myself killed."
With a frustrated scream, the boy threw the mouthpiece fiercely against the radio. He refused to let it end like this. He would complete this mission or die trying. Then he remembered. The missile launcher! It was probably not enough to destroy the power line but mobile suits were a different matter. He stood up in the seat and lifted the weapon out of the back. It was heavy. Almost too heavy. Grunting slightly, the boy lifted it on to his shoulder and took careful aim at the enemy leo. It immediately turned toward him. The boy fired. The kickback of the huge weapon sent the boy flying backwards.
There was a crash of breaking glass and the next thing he knew; he was lying sprawled on the crumpled hood of the jeep. He knew he should be hurting, but his mind was detached, almost as if he was floating out of his body. Blinking slowly, he unfeelingly watched the enemy mobile suit, cockpit streaming with flames; fall back into the one behind it, knocking both into a nearby building. He shifted his eyes back and saw the operative lift slowly lift the beam rifle. The ensuing explosion was loud, but he only barely heard it. The jeep was suddenly airborne, taking him with it. He was unconscious long before he hit the ground.
---
It was bright. Too bright. The boy could see it behind his eyelids. Other sensations came slowly back to him. The panicked babble of people above him, acrid smoke stinging his nose, the feel of hard blacktop under his cheek, something heavy on his leg. The boy tried to raise himself up to push the object off him. But just the action of lifting his head nearly made him pass out. He rested his cheek against the ground again and opened his eyes, flinching a little at the light. His internal clock told him it was still night, but for some reason, the colony had activated daytime.
All he could see were people. Lots of them. Some carrying suitcases, others holding the hands of frightened children. They all sounded frightened. Listening closely, he could pick out phrases here and there.
"-contain the leak long enough for us to get off."
"This can't be happening!"
"-damned alliance that did it!"
"What's going to happen, Mommy?"
Another voice rose above the din that sounded like it was talking through a bullhorn.
"May I have your attention! The shuttles are becoming crowded. In order for everyone to evacuate safely I must ask you to leave your belongings behind."
"What?!"
"-my whole life in this suitcase! Please!"
"Look, over there." The man's voice was a bit closer then the others.
"A child!" a woman gasped. "Do you think he's still alive?" Footsteps coming closer. No. I don't need your help. He thought at them. Go away and leave me alone!
"First thing to do is to get that off him," the man said, his feet disappearing from the boy's line of vision. The woman knelt in front of him and he soon found himself looking into a concerned face lined with wrinkles.
"He's awake, Demitri!" she called.
"Good!" the man said in a strained voice. Then the man grunted as if lifting something heavy and the pressure was gone from the boy's leg. Now they would want to help him. Probably take him with them; most likely put him in a hospital and maybe even deciding to take care of him. Why couldn't people just mind their own business? The man knelt down as well, wrinkles barely deepening as he offered a fake smile.
"Don't worry, son. You'll be all right."
The boy sighed softly. He knew better then that. It would never be all right, at least not for him...and not for them either if they decided to take care of him. He would only have to kill them. It might be nice at first, but sooner or later it would be them with blood gushing from their heads.
"We need to hurry, Demitri," the woman said worriedly.
"Let me just check him over first. The shuttles will wait for a few seconds and I don't want to risk making anything worse."
"Whatever you say, dear."
Gentle hands turned him onto his back and once again, the old couple was looking down at him.
"Now tell me where it hurts," the man said. The boy tried telling him to leave him alone, but no sound came out. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on making his lips move. It was so hard to think.
"Go 'way," he managed.
"Don't be afraid," the man said, smiling gently. "I'm a doctor. I know how to make you feel better."
The man wasn't listening. Adults never did. They thought they knew everything. The boy closed his eyes. He was sick of this. The only adult he ever wanted to see again was Odin. That wasn't likely, though, if he let them get away with this. Gritting his teeth, he focused his entire concentration on reaching into his jacket. Amazingly, the gun was still there. He opened his eyes and lifted the gun with both hands, pointing it directly at the man. His arms trembled with the effort but he forced himself to keep doing it.
"Oh!" the woman cried. The man's eyes were wide in surprise and fear.
"It's all right!" he said again. "I'm only trying to help!"
"I'll- kill- you-" the boy bit out. The man reached out for him. Acting entirely on instinct, the boy squeezed the trigger. The man immediately fell back, clutching his shoulder. He refocused the gun on the man, intending to threaten rather then fire.
"Demitri!" The woman rushed over to the old man and started to help him to his feet.
"It's all right," the man said, pain making his voice harsh. "He's just scared."
"Demitri, let's go. Now."
"I can't leave this child."
"Think of your own children! Of your grandchildren! They've been through enough tonight without losing their grandfather." For a moment it didn't seem the man would agree. Finally he sighed slowly and after casting the boy a sincerely grief stricken look, let his wife help him away. The boy waited until the sound of their footsteps had faded in with the others then let himself collapse back into the darkness.
---
A cough woke him. A cough that shot pain through his entire body. It was quiet now. Quiet as death. He opened his eyes. Broken buildings rose up around him and dirty gray ash swirled gently in the air. It's been this way before... The boy narrowed his eyes, not understanding the whispered thought as it brushed his mind. It soon faded though and he was left with emptiness.
The mission had been successful. Odin would be proud. Even though so many things had went wrong, he'd managed to do what he'd set out to do. That was what he wanted to see. More then anything. He wanted to see his mentor appearing through the haze and smiling down at him.
"You did good, kid." He would say, gathering the boy up in his arms and holding him close. "You had me worried there. But I should have known you would pull it off."
The boy closed his eyes. That's what would happen. Odin was probably looking for him right now. Maybe, finally, Odin would realize he loved him. After all, the boy had done everything Odin had ever taught him. He'd done what no seven-year-old could have possibly accomplished. The thought made the boy smile. Afterwards, he must have drifted off because the next thing he knew, a voice above him was asking.
"You alive, kid?"
The boy's eyes flew open and there was -- Darvin. One of the men who had been guarding the hangar. Another man was standing beside him.
"It's a good thing we decided to do a final check. Dunno how we missed him before, but he's one lucky little bugger."
"Lucky for us too," said Darvin. There was no sympathy in the hard lines of his face. The boy glanced around for the gun and found it laying just a hairsbreadth away. He twitched his fingers, trying to force his hand to move for it. A big black boot kicked sent it skittering away.
"What do you mean lucky for us, Darv?" said the other man.
"Let's just say the captain will be looking forward to talking with him." A rough hand grabbed his arm and jerked him up. There was blinding pain and, for the third time that day, the boy was completely helpless.
---
Soft pillow. Scratchy sheets. Tubes up his nose. Something in his arm. Sedate beeping overhead. No. Not again. Why always the hospital? Why couldn't they have shot him? Or even left him there to die when all the air drained out into space. Anything was preferable then being hooked up to machines and completely helpless. Even worse, he was in enemy hands. He had to get away
His eyes flickered open and he tried to sit up, but no matter what he did, his body refused to move. The door slammed open and in came a tall man in uniform and a nervous young doctor.
"Sir, you should really wait! He needs his rest!"
"He's been resting for two weeks!" the soldier bellowed, face going completely red. "I order you to wake him up now!" The doctor looked at the boy and blinked, startled.
"Um...yes, sir."
The soldier turned to face him and broke into a smile that was so obviously forced the boy wondered why he even tried.
"Ahh, there you are." A metallic shriek filled the room as the soldier dragged a stool over to the bed and sat. "How are we feeling this morning?"
The boy didn't answer. Seeming slightly thrown off by the silence, the soldier cleared his throat and tried again.
"I'm Commander Pavlov. I'm here for you. I'll get you anything you want. Is there something you want?" The soldier waited longer this time his smile faltering.
"Well...feel free to speak up if you ever want anything. By the way, my captain wanted me to ask you some questions. Just answer the best you can and don't worry, you're perfectly safe in here. Who told you to do this? What were there names?"
The boy closed his eyes. Usually he would have made up some lie and act all childish and innocent but he was tired of it.
"Now, now, you can't be going to sleep," Pavlov said, anger slipping through his false kindness. "You have a lot of questions to answer." A hand clamped on his shoulder and shook him. There was a strange sort of squeak from the other side of the room.
"Now, sir, I really must protest," said the doctor. "He's in no condition to be handled like that."
"The captain wants answers yesterday," growled Pavlov. "I'm sure you can understand that."
"Yes, of course, but if you kill him you're not going to get anything."
The shaking stopped abruptly.
"Well what do you suggest I do? Hm?" Pavlov asked.
"Let him sleep, sir. He's still recovering from very severe trauma. Try next week?"
"Fine!"
Pavlov was as good as his word. Week after week, and then day after day he was in the hospital room. First asking, then demanding that the boy answer him. It got to the point where the boy didn't even open his eyes anymore when the door slammed. In the silence between visits, he'd laid there, growing steadily stronger, trying to plan an escape.
Two weeks into his second month at the hospital, he was able to walk a little under his own power. He had just gotten back from physical therapy and was lying in the bed, trying to work on his escape plan. Unfortunately, his mind kept falling back to the mission. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it had been a complete joke. Not the mission itself. Any mission that succeeded was a good one, according to Odin. But the way he'd gone about it. It was a wonder he'd ever completed it at all. He'd gone in completely blind. He hadn't bothered to find out where else leos were stationed and he hadn't even bothered to find out how to operate the stupid things. In fact, if he hadn't killed Weaver, he could have stayed undercover and done the whole thing by himself.
The whole problem was that he'd relied on too much on people. On Burke to give him the information he needed, on the operative to destroy the power line for him. Of course, the operative had actually done it, but if the boy could have taken care of it himself it would have been much more efficient. Next time he would rely completely on himself. He would do the mission in his own time. Even if it took him months to get all the information. And once he started the mission, he would do it right, down to the very last detail. There was no excuse for being sloppy.
The door slammed open and the boy's train of thought faded. He sighed. Here they went again. He kept his eyes open this time, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm sick of this!!" Pavlov roared. "I'm sick of wasting my time coming here every day. I'm sick of the captain breathing down my neck! You are going to answer me today you little bastard or you're going to regret it."
"No," the boy said, getting a twisted pleasure at the outraged silence that followed.
"I knew you weren't mute! I knew it! I'm warning you! Who made you do it?! I want names!"
The boy closed his eyes. He absently wondered how long Pavlov could keep doing this before he burst a vein. The room was utterly quiet. So quiet he could hear Pavlov grinding his teeth. Finally the solider spoke. His voice was soft and cold like the barrel of a rifle before it was fired.
"Fine. You wish to be that way. Be that way. But don't think that your silence is going to help anybody because you will be made an example of. No one disobeys the Federation Alliance and gets away with it. Not even a kid like you."
Go right ahead, the boy thought. Nothing Pavlov could do would make any difference.
"Kill him, lieutenant."
"Yes, sir."
The door closed quietly this time, but with certain finality. The boy wasn't worried, though. He knew that second voice. The boy looked up at Odin, but the greeting died on his lips as soon as he saw his mentor's face. In all his life, he'd never seen the man look so angry.
"I really should kill you," he whispered savagely, pressing the cold metal against the boy's forehead. "It would probably be doing the world a favor." The boy didn't understand. What had he done?
"But-" he started
"Shut up and act dead."
The boy obeyed. The gun went off so close to his ear that he jumped. Odin snorted and muttered something under his breath that the boy didn't catch. A few moments later he'd been wrapped in the scratchy sheet and thrown roughly over Odin's shoulder. Even though the movements of Odin walking jarred his bruises, the boy tried his best to breathe as silently as he could.
"Where are you taking him, lieutenant?" Pavlov asked.
"To the center of town, sir. As you ordered."
"Why wrap him up?"
"It will be a greater shock when they see him, sir."
"Very well. Carry on."
It seemed like Odin was walking forever. Finally it seemed they were outside. There was a sound of a door opening.
"Hey you! Stop right there!" someone shouted. Odin cursed and practically dropped the boy onto what must have been the back seat of a car. Bullets were being fired. The boy kept himself down, not wanting to get shot again. He pulled the sheet from his head enough to see Odin get in and start the car. Then the boy was pressed against the seat as the car took off, swerving crazily. Afterwards, things seemed to have settled down a bit. Still, the boy waited for a while before he sat up.
"Odin..." he started.
"Shut up, kid. Just shut up. I don't even want to hear your damned voice. Do you have any idea what you did? You destroyed an entire colony!"
"But the mission was a success," the boy said faintly.
"Mission? What mission?"
"The one that Burke said-"
"Burke?!" Odin shouted, glaring at him fiercely through the rearview mirror. "You listened to that idiot?! What the hell were you thinking?! You're smarter then that, kid!"
"I only did it because I didn't want to kill you!" the boy cried desperately, wishing that Odin would stop yelling. He was supposed to be proud.
"You should have killed me, damnit! Do you have any idea how many people you killed?! How many lives you destroyed?!"
"People die every day," the boy said, getting a little annoyed. "What does it matter as long as the mission was successful?"
"It matters because you're human, damnit! Because even if you are an assassin you should have some trace of compassion."
"You said that compassion was a weakness!" the boy shouted. "You said an assassin shouldn't care! You said-"
"I know what I said!" Odin bellowed. "But an assassin doesn't destroy an entire colony on a childish whim! Do that and you're nothing more then a bloodthirsty murderer!" He let out a heavy breath and when he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "I'm not just an assassin for hire. I'm an assassin fighting for a cause.... For the colonies. If you kill everyone in the colonies, then what are you fighting for."
"I was fighting for you," the boy said sullenly, folding his arms tightly across his chest.
"What?" Odin really did seem confused by that statement.
"I was fighting for you. I wanted you to be proud...."
"Proud of that?!" He laughed angrily. "Oh yes, I am so damn proud of you devastating hundreds of people. Just makes me warm right here, you know?"
"Have I ever made you proud?" the boy asked, glaring up at him. "Did you ever really care about me or did you just want someone to talk to?" He spoke without really wanting to know the answer...but also wanting to know it more then anything.
"I rescued you that day because you impressed me. You were the only one who survived...and I kept you because, yeah, maybe I did want someone to talk to. Someone to share the blame. But if you died I wouldn't shed a damn tear."
The truth didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. Fine. Forget Odin. Who cared? He would find something else to fight for. Something he wanted to fight for. It was time to grow up and accept the fact that he could only ever be alone. Assassins had no family, no friends, and no one cared when they died. One thing was for sure. There was nothing more that Odin could teach him.
"I want to go to the base...or wherever it is you get your orders from," the boy said.
"Why?"
"I don't want to be with you any more."
"Gladly. But you're a dangerous weapon, kid. I hope they can handle you."
The boy snorted. They wouldn't handle him. He may be a weapon but he was his own weapon now.
----
Author's Note: Yes, I know. He was unconscious about three times in the same chapter. -sweatdrop- It gets better! It really does! waves arms frantically Anyway. Until next time!
Disclaimer: . . . do I really need to put anything here?
Night (damnit won't let me use tildes any more) Mare