Post by Hoarfrost on Feb 5, 2009 22:30:39 GMT -5
The Life and Times…
A shrill whistle blew and seven pairs of eyes looked up from their various positions. The biggest of the children was standing over a scrawny white haired boy, his own black hair wild, like his fathers. He had straightened, victorious. He had a bruise forming on his cheek, and a cut across his nose, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. The boy on the ground, however, was clutching his stomach, panting, and trying to stop his nose from bleeding.
“Good, Ein. Duex, get up, run two hundred laps and bring Vier and Zes, pathetic weaklings.” The man who was shouting commands at the children had wild black hair, deep black eyes that spoke of authority. He wore a military outfit, and held a riding crop in one hand, under his arm. The boy named Duex got up, huffing angrily but gesturing to his fallen siblings, Vier, a scrawny blond that had two black eyes and a missing tooth, and a brown haired boy who looked to have a concussion.
The victors stood proudly, Ein with his messy crop of black hair, Tres with her long silky strawberry blond and sharp as steel gray eyes, and Cinco, a deeply tanned boy with chocolate brown eyes and black hair. It was amazing that all seven were siblings. Nearby there was a woman, a nanny obviously, holding an infant in her arms. The boy was much too young to be training with his brothers and sister just yet. But before long he would, inevitably, become like them.
Duex was keeping up a steady, fast pace, keeping his younger brothers in front of him in case father decided to speed up their punishment. Ein looked to his father, who simply nodded. Ein lashed out at Tres, the girl barely ducking the fierce swing. Cinco joined in a second later and another round of fierce fighting was had, until Ein defeated both, and Cinco and Tres were forced into three hundred laps for losing. It was nighttime when they all got home, sweaty, sore, and exhausted. They sped through their studies, dinner and a bath, heading directly to bed and to ‘lights out’.
“I think you broke my nose.” Said a soft voice.
“Sorry Two.”
“Your not sorry. You won, again.”
“Shut up Three.”
“She’s right though.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t fight, Four.”
“Will you guys shut up!”
“Yeah, I’m tired.”
The chatter went to a standstill and someone murmured, “Oh and…happy birthday Two.” There was no response to it, and the darkness seemed to stretch on. A wolf howled outside the children’s windows, and the youngest whimpered. No one moved however, and none of them seemed to care either. The only child awake now was Duex, who was staring at Ein across from him. “Yeah…happy birthday.” He murmured, letting his eyes close.
The next morning, after breakfast, chores, and their studies, the seven children stood in line outside, by number. They all wore standard military pants, tank top, and had a gun in their hands. Target practice. The targets were moving, small animals, dogs, cats. His father got them from the local shelter, not ever telling them what they were for other than ‘charity’. “Ready.” The tall man barked to his children, each gun clicked off its safety and popped a bullet into the chamber. “Aim.” The guns went up without hesitation. “Fire!”
There was seven crack of hand pistols, and only one yelping whimpering dog. The big man turned furious eyes on the youngest, Zes. The boys hands were shaking so badly it was almost as if he was having a seizure. His eyes were wide and frightened as he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. A crack of the crop across the boys back made him yelp. Whimpering like the dog had. “Reload.” Came the harsh grate of their father.
“Y-yessir,” The boy was trembling all over and he brought his gun up again, scared the man would hit him again. Trembling still his second shot missed the animal completely, wrenching a sob from the boy as the crop came down on him again. The third shot killed the poor thing, but the boy was still shaking and crying, ducked down to try and avoid his fathers wrath. “Get out of my sight.” Whimpering slightly the boy took off, headed back to the house. The others stayed where they were, anxious but revealing nothing. “Fight.” The man growled, following the youngest of the group home.
The remaining five looked at each other, startled by this sudden freedom. If there father was going inside, it gave them time to talk. Time they never had besides at bedtime. And that was a dangerous thing to pull. “Ein!” Duex whispered, black eyes on his brother.
“I know.” Ein’s eyes followed their father into the house before looking at the others. “We’re not old enough or strong enough to take him down yet.” He said softly, looking at his siblings, whose eyes were all now soft and worried. “We hafta keep training, wait until we’re older, cover for Tres….we hafta wait for Seven.”
“But Seven’s only a year old Ein! How long do you want us to wait!”
“Until he can walk, talk, and join us in our studies and fighting. It’s only a few years!” He whispered, “But I won’t leave our baby brother behind to this.”
Nervously Tres nodded, “I agree with One.” She nervously flicked her hair off her shoulders. “I don’t want to stay here either…but Seven’s our brother.”
Cinco nodded as well, and finally they were all in agreement. The next year flying by faster than any of the children had expected. The training, studies, and practice had changed each of the youngsters into fighting machines. Children killers. It was scary and surreal to watch them. And when Duex finally overcame Ein in a fight, they knew it was getting close to time. The time they overthrew their tyrannical father and lived happier, healthier, lives.
What they got wasn’t what they had wanted. Their father had been ready for them, and had grabbed Seven, the two year old youngest member of the seven. Angry and psychotic, he had shot the lethal children coming at him, Ein fell without a sound. Tres got shot with a sharp cry of pain and writhed on the ground. Cinco and Zes fell next, and Vier got shot, and the bullet ripped through him, landing a glancing blow to Duex’s skull, knocking him flat and unconscious.
The next days newspaper was shocking and appalling, the story making the world spin in dazed confusion. A madman father naming his children by numbers, teaching them to be spies, assassins, murderers. And beating them, torturing them so they were virtually immune to pain. The picture on the headlines was a blank eyed little two year old, covered in his older brother Ein’s blood. The look on the child’s face mirrored that on Seven’s face to this day…blank and unresponsive.
A shrill whistle blew and seven pairs of eyes looked up from their various positions. The biggest of the children was standing over a scrawny white haired boy, his own black hair wild, like his fathers. He had straightened, victorious. He had a bruise forming on his cheek, and a cut across his nose, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. The boy on the ground, however, was clutching his stomach, panting, and trying to stop his nose from bleeding.
“Good, Ein. Duex, get up, run two hundred laps and bring Vier and Zes, pathetic weaklings.” The man who was shouting commands at the children had wild black hair, deep black eyes that spoke of authority. He wore a military outfit, and held a riding crop in one hand, under his arm. The boy named Duex got up, huffing angrily but gesturing to his fallen siblings, Vier, a scrawny blond that had two black eyes and a missing tooth, and a brown haired boy who looked to have a concussion.
The victors stood proudly, Ein with his messy crop of black hair, Tres with her long silky strawberry blond and sharp as steel gray eyes, and Cinco, a deeply tanned boy with chocolate brown eyes and black hair. It was amazing that all seven were siblings. Nearby there was a woman, a nanny obviously, holding an infant in her arms. The boy was much too young to be training with his brothers and sister just yet. But before long he would, inevitably, become like them.
Duex was keeping up a steady, fast pace, keeping his younger brothers in front of him in case father decided to speed up their punishment. Ein looked to his father, who simply nodded. Ein lashed out at Tres, the girl barely ducking the fierce swing. Cinco joined in a second later and another round of fierce fighting was had, until Ein defeated both, and Cinco and Tres were forced into three hundred laps for losing. It was nighttime when they all got home, sweaty, sore, and exhausted. They sped through their studies, dinner and a bath, heading directly to bed and to ‘lights out’.
“I think you broke my nose.” Said a soft voice.
“Sorry Two.”
“Your not sorry. You won, again.”
“Shut up Three.”
“She’s right though.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t fight, Four.”
“Will you guys shut up!”
“Yeah, I’m tired.”
The chatter went to a standstill and someone murmured, “Oh and…happy birthday Two.” There was no response to it, and the darkness seemed to stretch on. A wolf howled outside the children’s windows, and the youngest whimpered. No one moved however, and none of them seemed to care either. The only child awake now was Duex, who was staring at Ein across from him. “Yeah…happy birthday.” He murmured, letting his eyes close.
The next morning, after breakfast, chores, and their studies, the seven children stood in line outside, by number. They all wore standard military pants, tank top, and had a gun in their hands. Target practice. The targets were moving, small animals, dogs, cats. His father got them from the local shelter, not ever telling them what they were for other than ‘charity’. “Ready.” The tall man barked to his children, each gun clicked off its safety and popped a bullet into the chamber. “Aim.” The guns went up without hesitation. “Fire!”
There was seven crack of hand pistols, and only one yelping whimpering dog. The big man turned furious eyes on the youngest, Zes. The boys hands were shaking so badly it was almost as if he was having a seizure. His eyes were wide and frightened as he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. A crack of the crop across the boys back made him yelp. Whimpering like the dog had. “Reload.” Came the harsh grate of their father.
“Y-yessir,” The boy was trembling all over and he brought his gun up again, scared the man would hit him again. Trembling still his second shot missed the animal completely, wrenching a sob from the boy as the crop came down on him again. The third shot killed the poor thing, but the boy was still shaking and crying, ducked down to try and avoid his fathers wrath. “Get out of my sight.” Whimpering slightly the boy took off, headed back to the house. The others stayed where they were, anxious but revealing nothing. “Fight.” The man growled, following the youngest of the group home.
The remaining five looked at each other, startled by this sudden freedom. If there father was going inside, it gave them time to talk. Time they never had besides at bedtime. And that was a dangerous thing to pull. “Ein!” Duex whispered, black eyes on his brother.
“I know.” Ein’s eyes followed their father into the house before looking at the others. “We’re not old enough or strong enough to take him down yet.” He said softly, looking at his siblings, whose eyes were all now soft and worried. “We hafta keep training, wait until we’re older, cover for Tres….we hafta wait for Seven.”
“But Seven’s only a year old Ein! How long do you want us to wait!”
“Until he can walk, talk, and join us in our studies and fighting. It’s only a few years!” He whispered, “But I won’t leave our baby brother behind to this.”
Nervously Tres nodded, “I agree with One.” She nervously flicked her hair off her shoulders. “I don’t want to stay here either…but Seven’s our brother.”
Cinco nodded as well, and finally they were all in agreement. The next year flying by faster than any of the children had expected. The training, studies, and practice had changed each of the youngsters into fighting machines. Children killers. It was scary and surreal to watch them. And when Duex finally overcame Ein in a fight, they knew it was getting close to time. The time they overthrew their tyrannical father and lived happier, healthier, lives.
What they got wasn’t what they had wanted. Their father had been ready for them, and had grabbed Seven, the two year old youngest member of the seven. Angry and psychotic, he had shot the lethal children coming at him, Ein fell without a sound. Tres got shot with a sharp cry of pain and writhed on the ground. Cinco and Zes fell next, and Vier got shot, and the bullet ripped through him, landing a glancing blow to Duex’s skull, knocking him flat and unconscious.
The next days newspaper was shocking and appalling, the story making the world spin in dazed confusion. A madman father naming his children by numbers, teaching them to be spies, assassins, murderers. And beating them, torturing them so they were virtually immune to pain. The picture on the headlines was a blank eyed little two year old, covered in his older brother Ein’s blood. The look on the child’s face mirrored that on Seven’s face to this day…blank and unresponsive.