1998
Standard disclaimers apply.
A.C. 187
Colony V08744
His dark blue eyes surveyed the surroundings clinically. The boy stood on the sidewalk outside the nondescript hotel where they were putting up for the duration of their stay. The man he travelled with had a 'job' on this colony, and wherever his mentor went, the boy followed.
Except for today.
Whatever business his mentor - 'Father'? - had, today he wasn't included. Today, he would keep his own company.
Which bored him to hell.
And being cooped up in a stuffy hotel room was *not* his idea of fun. The boy smiled grimly. Perhaps he should redefine 'fun'. After all, when other boys his age built models, he assembled guns...
The boy took a deep breath as he walked without really paying attention to the direction his sneakered feet took him. His thoughts kept him company and they provided ample distraction from the sombre greyness of his surroundings.
Odin Lowe.
He couldn't really remember when - or how - he'd come into the man's company.
The starting point of their relationship was just a foggy point in his past. Just as well, the child smirked, his expression seeming too adult in the young face. His past was probably a lie anyway, whatever he could remember of it. *They* would have made sure of that. He was just one of the hundreds of test tube children that populated the colonies.
It was one of the perks of living in space.
No labour pains.
The boy chuckled to himself. Noticing an empty bench, he sat down, cold eyes watching every movement around him detachedly.
This was a strange colony. He'd visited many ever since he'd been together with the man he was supposed to refer to as 'Father' whenever - if ever - anyone asked.
Ironic, really, if one knew his actual origins.
For all legal purposes, Lowe was his father - adopted, but still his father. But the boy knew their relationship was deeper than that, more complex. There was no father-son relationship between them. It was just a convenient way of being together, to accomplish all that they had to accomplish. They had told him he was 'special'. Ever since he'd learnt to walk, they'd been training him, testing his limits. He was different, he knew. He wasn't sure exactly *how* different, but he just knew he was.
And Odin Lowe was part of his training.
From the man he called 'Father', he learnt how to kill. What more could a son ask for, ne?
The child pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, turning his appraising gaze once more on the rather quiet street. Hn. I suppose I shouldn't expect much from a backwater colony. Damn but he felt sarcastic today...
What do you expect from an apprentice assassin who hadn't even seen his first decade?
*But I feel hundreds...*
Angrily, the young child pushed his frustrated thoughts aside, concentrating instead on observing his surroundings. Might as well practise some of what he'd learnt, he thought. Might as well try to figure out what made the neighbourhood tick...
Still, the desperate desolation he felt ever since he'd arrived two days ago - so thick in the air that it seemed to drip physically onto anyone who passed by - disturbed him. He'd never seen so many different races in one place before; He'd never heard so many different languages spoken in one place. And yet, through all the diversity that he'd been able to pick out in the first few hours of his arrival, he'd caught one singular essence that wafted insidiously through all the smiles, the laughter.
Fear.
Something was going on, and while no one seemed to be aware of exactly what it was, the feeling hung nigh-tangible in the air. There was that expectant feeling of a bubble about to burst; a bomb about to drop.
Perhaps that was it, the dark-haired boy sighed. This colony had been more touched by the war than most of the other colonies he'd visited. Perhaps that was what made the difference all too clear.
With a long-suffering sigh, the dark-haired child stood. Staying outside did not give him the peace he had hoped for. It only made him feel more disturbed. It only made him sadder. All at once, the silence of the empty hotel room began to seem very much more pleasant. Perhaps he'd take a nap, the boy decided.
Yeah...
He turned to walk back to the hotel and suddenly realised that he had walked off quite a distance from the building. Not that it mattered, he grunted. The exercise would do him good...
"ITAI!"
Stars. He could almost imagine he could see stars. In broad daylight.
"What the Hell!? Why don't you look where you're going, you idiot?" the dark-haired boy cried in anger.
Dazed violet eyes looked down on him. The weight on his chest suddenly shifted as the other child scrambled to get off him.
The boy blinked. A girl? Ah, but that didn't matter. He had never been one to let gender get in the way. Just because she was a girl, she couldn't get away with running into people in the middle of a public thoroughfare. What? Did she think her ojiisan owned the bloody street?
Scowling, he sat up from where he lay sprawled across the dusty sidewalk. Opposite him, barely two feet away, the girl sat in a most unlady-like fashion: thin legs splayed apart, the large tee overwhelming her slight body, almost covering the baggy shorts she wore; only the hems showed. She seemed as surprised as he was, perhaps more so.
As he started to stand, his hand brushed against a cool metal box. The boy's eyebrow twitched, curious. He moved to pick it up and...
And suddenly had his arms full of spitting fury.
In the instant it took for him to pick up the box, the girl had launched herself at him, pushing him once more against the concrete pavement as she tried to force away his fingers from the box. And in his surprise at the vehemence of her attack, the boy's grip loosened just as she pulled.
And the small box sailed through the air, flying into the wall of the building beside them.
And it dropped to the concrete, open, spilling its contents onto the ground.
"No!" The girl stopped, face stricken at the sight of the broken box. Under her, the boy frowned and glanced over at what had brought forth so much horror to the other child's pretty face.
Several ampoules lay scattered on the ground, some shattered, leaking their contents onto the dry concrete. A lot more still snuggled securely in the box, and the boy noticed the soft exhalation of relief coming from the girl who was already moving towards the box, ignoring him. Puzzled, the boy watched as the violet-eyed child carefully picked up the scattered, unbroken ampoules, gathering them almost reverently and tucking them safely into the box. She fingered the two broken ampoules, a look of anguish clear on her face. Then her lips pursed, and a look of determination flashed across her features.
"What are those? Drugs?" the boy asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. Had he intercepted another child drug runner? His voice seemed to surprise the girl. Her head snapped up, her long hair whipping across her shoulders as she turned to glare at him through narrowed eyes. Before he knew it, a slender leg shot out and swept his legs from under him, sending him sprawling once more to the ground.
"None of your damned business!" she ground out through gritted teeth as she made to run, the precious metal box hugged tightly to her thin body.
That did it! He'd tried to be civil. He hadn't even hit her, but she was pushing things too bloody far! With an angry growl, the boy jumped at her, grabbing at the girl's shoulder. But at the last possible moment she twisted out of his way, leaving him with nothing but a handful of long, chestnut hair.
And a throbbing headache.
Somehow, as she twisted away, she had bonked him a hard one with the metal box.
And as the boy struggled to his feet, he managed to catch sight of the girl disappearing around the corner, long chestnut hair streaming in her wake.
Sighing, the boy collapsed tiredly once more on the sidewalk, leaning against the wall. He couldn't believe it. He was a trained assassin, for God's sake! To be bested by a ragamuffin...
The glint of sunlight against glass caught his eye. The broken ampoules lay in shards beside him.
Tentatively, the boy reached out with a finger, touching a little of the spilled liquid. Slowly he brought it to his nose, and sniffed. Strange, there was no smell of the drugs he was familiar with. And he was familiar with a *lot*! His tongue flicked out and tasted a smidgen of the liquid.
Oh yech!
This was no drug. It had to be the vilest medicine he'd ever had the misfortune of tasting. Of course, considering how it was kept, the stuff would probably be taken intravenously anyway. No one would want to swallow much of the stuff, he thought with a grimace. They'd probably rather die first...
As he resisted the urge to throw up at the bitter taste, he couldn't help feeling glad. He hadn't wanted the girl to be some common street punk, pushing drugs in dark alleyways. He didn't want to associate her with death. She had too much life in those wide, violet eyes. She packed too much punch in that small body.
Wiping his hand on his pants, the boy pushed himself up. His head still throbbed and he was sure he'd have a bump the size of an orange inside of an hour. As he raised his hand to rub his aching head, the boy noticed the long strands still entwined around his fingers.
He smiled.
That girl was definitely no lady.
~owari~
Author's Notes:
Now, can you brainy people guess who's who? No prizes ^_^
Shirin
Please send comments to: shirini@pc.jaring.my