Cyborg 009 Fan Fiction ❯ "The Ballad of 0014" ❯ Prolouge: ~Nightmares~ ( Prologue )

We can draw lessons from the past, but we cannot live in it.
Lyndon B. Johnson, December 13, 1963

The Ballad of 0014
by DigistatDBZ

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Prolouge: ~ Nightmares~

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"So this is the place?"

"Absolutely- the computer logs were perfectly accurate." Large hands opened the steel safe doors as a blast of colder air suddenly rushed upon the small, four-person group. The leader, a shadowed figure of a woman, led the group, consisting of a large hulk of a man and two others in cloaks and turbans, into the vault. The initial change from the heat of an Italian summer night into a far cooler warehouse-like setting didn't seem to upset any of them.

The need for an oil lamp wasn't needed at the moment, as the warehouse was already illuminated with scores of 7-foot-tall pillars. Each pillar was only dimly illuminated, but with the incredible number of pillars inside, the dark warehouse seemed to come alive with light.

"If we start here," the woman began to speak, starting at an empty pillar that had the numbers '001' embossed on a steel plate attatched to the top and working her way left. "Then the one we're looking for shouldn't be that hard to find."

One of the turbaned men read a label that was placed on the empty pillar. "'001, First Generation. Abilities: Telekenesis. Successful Testing...', m'lady! There are no cyborgs in these pods."

The woman turned to face him. "Do you think I don't know that? None of the first thirteen pods were ever occupied, in case you didn't already notice."

The turbaned man bowed nervously. "My mistake, m'lady."

"Good." Her attention suddenly turned from the last empty pod, the thirteenth, to what led to a whole row of dimly-lit pods.

For as far as the eye could see, the pods each had a human inside, all of them clad in a peculiar uniform of sorts: a red tunic with four yellow oval-shaped lapels and a black, buckled belt, matching red pants, knee-high black boots and a long, yellow muffler that tied around their necks. Though what you could particularly tell wasn't part of the uniform was a strange dome with tubes and cables that covered the top half of the head.

"There she is. And in even better condition than we originally anticipated."

The three men were interrupted from their initial awe at the sight of all of the pods to the woman pointing at a pod that was the very first one after the thirteen empty pods. In the sea of pods, they were either labeled as 'Successful Testing' or 'Defect'.

But this one was different. She knelt down to read the plate, but then shook her head in disbelief. "First Generation, abilities unknown? Amazing how little attention they paid to this one- or so we're led to believe, perhaps."

"But if this one is a First Generation, then... why is this the fourteenth cyborg?"

"Don't ask questions," the woman snapped before turning to the hulking figure behind her. "You. Get that pod. Damage it, and you pay with your life."

The large man nodded before reaching for it. The woman looked proud of her discovery as she looked at the number on the plate again.

"0014."

A thunderstorm rocked a small, village-esque suburb of Berlin- a city once divided in the Cold War between America and the Soviet Union. Those differences seemed long since forgotten and tensions never seemed more loose than in this town.

Still, those sort of past descrections aren't easily forgotten as most would like. Take for example the many whos lives were destroyed during that nearly warless conflict years ago.

Inside someone's mind on that stormy night, a scenario from over 40 years ago was playing out again...

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He wasn't sure what was broken in the explosion, or how he could possibly be alive afterwards. All he knew was that they were finally out.

Free.

Debris from the truck rained down and was scattered around him like so much fire from hell, and even the worst of it wasn't clawing through the flaming, burning debris to reach her...

"Hilda....!!!"

His legs felt like they were gone, even if they were somehow still connected to his broken, bloodied body.

"Hilda..!!!!! Hilda!!!!"

Yet, his worst horrors were still realized... the only thing he wished would still be in one piece and praying for his survival was laying in a crumpled, lifeless heap amidst the burning rubble.

"HILDA!!!"

He reached out for her, taking her form into his arms. He prayed, no, *demanded* that God wouldn't take her away from him.

"Hilda, hold on, please!!" He begged, trying to ruse the body that was limply hanging from his arms.

Finally, it was as if his prayer was answered as she barely managed to open her eyes and look at him.

"Did... we make it?" she whispered weakly, as if she was putting every ounce of her strength into just answering him.

"Yes..!" He replied, thankful that maybe.. just maybe his worst fear wasn't realized after all. "We're out of that place for good! We're in a free country now, where we can do whatever we want!!"

She smiled through the tears that began to trickle out of her eyes. "I'm so glad... we're finally free... forever..."

She nearly gasped on the last word as her hand fell limp to his side, the glint of the gold engagement ring shone though the fire that continued to burn behind them. Albert felt the blood rush out of his head and into the very pit of his stomach.

"..Hilda...!!" He choked, trying to make her wake up again. "You can't die!! We were supposed to be together!!"

He shook, holding her close as something began to sneak up from below the very ground they were laying on. Yet, even as these appendages rose from the ground, enveloping them, he continued to talk as if they weren't even there.. as he remembered it.

"We never should've done this..." he whispered bitterly as the two bodies were lifted up, snaking steel trying to tear the two apart. But he was still alive, she was dead- there was nothing he could do to change it, and that's what hurt him the most.

"Don't die, you can't leave me!!!" He tried to plead one last time, trying to hold onto the body of the woman he loved- his pleas still falling upon dead ears.

He only had a moment- and just enough strength- to call out for her, to shout for her name as the machine guns took aim at him, to silence him as well.

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"HILDA!!!!!!!!!!!"

Albert Henrich sprung stiff as a board up on his bed as another thunderclap exploded with intense sound in the background, lighting the dark room for only a moment with its lightning. Cold sweat broke out and streamed from everywhere on his body that he could possibly name- natural and artificial.

His breathing was loud and heavy as he tried desperately to grasp the reality that he had been placed right back into. There was no burning truck, no broken limbs, no cables, no guns...

..No Hilda...

He held his face in his hands, the fact that only one of his hands was still human-looking and the other was glaringly artifical- all five fingers each a powerful semi-automatic machine gun- still not helping to ease the pain that throbbed in his head... or his heart.

"Why...." he whispered, still breathing hard. "....Why am I having that dream over and over again....?"

Everything in the nightmare was just as he remembered it, line for line, moment for moment... yet the cables, the gunfire.. all of that was different. He didn't know how, or why, but this time, the memory was different.

Just like the nightmares he had been having for.. two, three weeks? He stopped keeping track after the night he tried to stay awake all night to avoid the nightmares. It didn't fare well for work the following morning, but on the other hand, the nightmares had been depriving him of sleep to the point where no one would be able to tell the difference between him staying up all night or having nightmares that kept him awake in the first place.

But why Hilda? Why that memory when he felt like he was just starting to get over it?

'Maybe to keep me from forgetting her..' he thought, rubbing his temples. 'Why am I not supposed to forget her?! Why can't I move on??'

He twitched in surprise when he heard his phone ringing. He stopped breathing hard long enough to murmur to himself, "...Who could be calling this late at night?"

He exhaled as he collected himself enough to reach for the phone at the side of his bed. "Yes, who is this?"

"004?"

Albert's conciousness suddenly shot to attention when he recognized the voice uttering his old 00-code number. "Dr. Gilmore...? What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry... but something's come up, we need everyone..."

He felt his stomach cramp at the thought. Having to go back.. back to fight just when he was finally beginning to think that he could be able to rest a little easier at night. 'But then again,' he thought. 'I haven't been resting easier at night for weeks...'

"004? Is something wrong?"

Albert chuckled softly to mask his current feelings. "Don't worry, I'm fine. What about the others?"

"They're on their way, I wanted to make sure that you were absolutely sure you wanted to come back to us." Dr. Gilmore paused as he thought about how to put his next revelation. "This could be about Black Ghost."

"Black Ghost?!" Albert was dumbstruck. "But we defeated the organization two years ago... how could they--"

"I know it's hard to believe, but this sounds like a plot that could determine if they're finally coming out of hiding."

"Hiding?"

"Yes, something as large as Black Ghost can't just disappear because of some event. I could tell you more, but time is of the essence, I'll explain the rest once everyone is together. Hurry to the lab, 004- I'm counting on you and the others!"

"...I understand." The drone of the disconnection tone continued to sound though the reciever as Albert took a heavy sigh.

Battling... that was something he hated. No doubt none of the other 00-number Cyborgs liked their still newfound lot in life, either. Still, he had been told by so many people thoughout his life, "There will always be have-tos".

He had to continue to remind himself why he had to keep fighting. For the past two years of "peacetime", he returned to Germany again to continue to recollect the lost 40 years of his past. Looking for more old friends who had literally become old, finding any more family that might've survived...

All he could do was turn his sideways glance into a hard stare at the framed photo on his bedstand- a momento from one of his "Grand-nieces" in Austria.

Memories of happier times...

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to be continued

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Quote taken from "The Quotation Page" at http://www.quotationspage.com/