Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Integration ❯ Illunination ( Chapter 3 )

Integrated

By: Bane's Desire

Part 3 - Illumination

Warnings and disclaimer on page one. Add language to the warning for this chapter.

Putting a hand on his hip with an unfamiliar sarcastic grin on his face, the hypnotized young man asked. "Hey, what's with all the stiffs?"

Even Mr. Hannible looked a bit taken aback by the young man's transformation. But being an experienced performer, he quickly recovered. "Who are you?" he asked the new personality.

"People 'round here call me Sidekick cause that's what I am to Solo. He calls me Kid."

"Solo?" Hannible queried.

The young man narrowed his eyes and glared. "Yeah, Solo. He's the head of our gang. I do anything he wants me to 'cause it's for the other kids." "Where do you live, Sidekick?"

"Where else but this shit hole, L-2," he replied, casting his eyes around the room, obviously seeing something the other people present didn't and with a look of wariness on his face. Murmurs of concern began to fill the room. L-2 was a place that was notorious even on Earth for its poverty and crime.

"How old are you?"

A look of disgust came over the face of Jason, giving him the appearance of someone so unlike himself. "How the fuck would I know? Don't you lame asses know we street kids don't know nut'en about things like that? It's not like we'z got parents to fork out that kind of info."

"So you're homeless and an orphan on Colony L-2?" Hannible asked, looking a bit uneasy. After Sidekick nodded, he looked to the audience, "Well, there goes my theory about grandiose reincarnations," he said, noticing the joke had fallen rather flat and that the audience's attention was centered solely on the young man looking at them with an attitude of defiance in his stance and eyes. He turned his attention to the boy also, finding this experience to be utterly fascinating. "How do you survive on the streets?"

"We'z got our ways." A sly grin rose on Jason's face. "Me, I'm the best pickpocket around. Some a da kids do the beg'en and others steal whats we need. Solo watches over us as we work, mak'en sure we're safe. He won't let anyone of uz be used by johns or pimps. No sir, we're not taking no cock up da ass for anyone, not our gang. Solo says it's better ta starve then to be a cheap whore."

Gasps from both men and women could be heard from the audience at both the language and harsh description of a child's life on the streets that came from Jason's mouth. The festive holiday mood had definitely been broken.

"What year is it, Sidekick?" the hypnotist asked somberly.

The young man at the center of attention gave an insouciant shrug of his thin shoulder. "I dunno for sure, but I heard someone say it's AC 191, whatever good that does me."

A collective gasp was heard throughout the dining room. Knowing the young man before them was at least twenty years old, it couldn't have been a past life he was recalling when AC 191 was only twelve years past. The entire puzzled audience noted the horrified look of understanding that fell upon the hypnotist's face.

"I want you to close your eyes, Sidekick, and relax your body." Hannible said in a slightly shaky voice, and waited until the young man complied. The audience watched as the haughty stance of the street kid was replace by the limp, sleep-like stance Jason had taken earlier. "You are to come back to the present day and time, to being Jason Phillips who works at the Illinois DMV. On the count of three, you and everyone else," he included the five still sitting in their chairs behind them, still in a hypnotic state of rest, "will wake up and open your eyes. One... two... three!"

The six who had been in the spotlight blinked their eyes open and looked around, all blushing at the remembrance of their performance. Jason stood with a dazed, thunderstruck expression on his face, his arms wrapped around his waist making him look ill at ease and unsure of himself. His eyes desperately searched the room, and finding expressions of disapproval, concern and worry on the faces of his co-workers, he looked quickly away, only to find Debra standing at his side.

"Let's give your fellow co-workers a round of applause for helping out this evening," Mr. Hannible said, encouraging the smattering of applause that followed his request.

"You okay?" Debra looked worried as she took his arm and led him back to his vacated chair.

Jason nodded and allowed himself to be taken to the table where he sat down on his chair looking numb. "What the hell was that?" he asked her, then rubbed at his forehead which ached something terrible.

Debra's hand was at his back, rubbing soothing circles to ease his discomfort. "Do you remember what just happened?" she asked, keeping her voice low. Looking around the table she noticed their dinner companions were staring at her friend. She gave them a warning glare, then turned to concentrate on him.

"I don't know," he answered in a small voice, rubbing his forehead and temples. "I think so, but it feels like I've just had a really bad dream or something."

Seeing his distress, the young woman got up, realizing no one else was about to take Jason's place as M.C. "Alright people," she said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Let's thank Mr. Duane Hannible for coming here tonight and entertaining us. Thank you, Mr. Hannible." More applause sounded this time, much to the relief of the girl and the performer who obviously thought his evening's performance had gone flat with his last subject.

Debra watched as the hypnotist took a brief bow and quickly left the center of attention. She turned and pulled her friend to his feet by taking hold of his elbow again. "Come on," she urged, then took his hand and pulled him up to his feet. "We've got to figure out what just happened and the only man who can explain it is about to walk out the door." Pulling him behind her, Debra ran after the performer regardless of the expensive dress, high heels and glittery purse in her hand, completely ignoring their curious co-workers staring after them.

"Mr. Hannible, wait!" she called out to the quickly retreating man exiting the room.

Turning around to see who was running after him, the hypnotist frowned unhappily in spying his last subject. Still, he stood and waited just outside the room in the hotel's hallway for the two to approach him. But just as they reached him he held up his hand, halting the words that were about to come out of the young woman's mouth.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get into by awakening him?" He asked her, motioning to Jason.

The girl's brown eyes narrowed as Jason stood quietly by, worriedly observing the both of them. "What the hell do you mean by awakening?" she demanded.

Mr. Hannible looked around to see that no one else had followed them out the door nor was there anyone close enough to overhear their conversation. He lowered his voice as he addressed the both of them. "Listen," he began. "I'm no expert, just a talented hypnotist who dropped out of college when it got too boring and my new hobby began to make itself useful. But from what I've read, the government in charge of criminal rehabilitation, does not sit well with outside interference with their integrated subjects. There are penalties, harsh ones, that are passed out to anyone who disrupts the life or processing of one who has been Integrated. It's pretty damn clear to me that Mr. Phillips here has had this procedure done, and if I inadvertently damaged his new memories, I could be sent to prison. So if you'll excuse me, I've got to get out of here."

"Integrated, what does that mean?" Jason asked before the man could turn to leave, looking confused and shaken.

"It means you've had a criminal past that was erased by the government and that your current life has been implanted into your mind to make you a model citizen," Hannible explained patiently, though his eyes continued to shift in a nervous manner around the area surrounding them. "The memory you spoke of in the other room under hypnosis was no doubt a true memory, a part of your criminal past."

"No way!" Jason protested, closing his eyes and putting a hand to his aching head. "I can remember growing up in Minneapolis, on the east side of the city on Glenboro Way. I graduated from high school there and my parents died in a car crash in my senior year," he said in strained voice. "I remember it all, my childhood, holidays, my home, bedroom and pets. I met Scott at school there and moved to Chicago with him. There's no way I can be what you think I am," he said looking panicked.

"That's exactly how the new integrated memories work," Hannible replied patiently. "Your memories of L-2 and the troubled childhood you recalled moments ago, as well as your obvious career in crime were taken away," the dark-haired man replied, looking at the smaller man with disapproval on his face regarding the younger man's wayward past. "In return, they plant within your mind the memories of an innocent, law-abiding citizen who would never even think about breaking the law."

Debra watched as Jason stood, blinking a few times as he absorbed the information the slightly older man offered as an explanation for what had happened earlier. His face looked troubled, his eyes clouded over by confusion. "I don't believe any of this," she said firmly, putting a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

"How can that be possible?" Jason asked. "I'm only twenty one. How bad of a person could I have been to have this... this integration thing done to me at my age? Is there any way to know for sure that what you're saying it true?"

The hypnotist thought for a moment before he gave a nod of his head and answered. "If I remember right, the people who are re-habilitated by Integration are given a small mark behind the right ear to identify them as an Integrated citizen so that people who are either a medical or mental heath professional, unlike myself, know not to tamper with them. Do you know if you have a mark like that?"

Jason exchanged a look with Debra and frowned, not remembering ever having looked closely behind his ear before.

"Let me see," Debra said, moving to his right side and pulling his right ear lobe forward at the same time as she leaned in to get a better look. She paused and the air around the three stilled as her eyes narrowed. "There's a mark here alright," she said softly. "It's really small and looks like a stamp or something.

"The mark is supposed to be a number or flag of whatever state or country performed the Integration procedure. It's a way of tracking the individual in case problems arise. Otherwise, Integrated people are free to live their lives peaceably."

"You look then," Debra offered, letting go of Jason's ear lobe and stepping back. "See if you can tell what it is."

With a sigh, Mr. Hannible took a small black case out of the pocket inside the lining of his jacket, opened it, and slipped his eyeglasses on. Moving closer to the worried looking young man, he also pulled the ear forward, then turned Jason's head to put more light onto the small quarter inch design on his ear.

Debra watched with interest as the dark-haired hypnotist studied the spot, and observed the exact moment when his eyes widened behind his glasses with shock. "What is it?" she asked, watching as the man stumbled back from her friend with a look of utter disbelief on his face.

"Oh shit!" he whispered. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm in so much fucking trouble," he said with a look of misery crossing over his face. He looked Jason in the face and ran a trembling hand through his dark hair. "You don't remember anything, do you?" he asked, his eyes taking in the young man's appearance with incredulity written on his own face at what he'd discovered.

Jason turned to look at him, feeling wary and frightened at everything that was happening. He shook his head, not so much in answer to the taller man's question, but because he didn't know what he was suppose to be remembering.

The performer buried his head into his hands and moaned softly. "I'm such an idiot. Why do I always have to learn the hard way? Why didn't I check first before I delved into his memories?"

Debra was losing patience, she'd had just about enough of being left in the dark. Taking a firm hold of the hypnotist's arm, she growled out. "What the hell are you talking about? What is it that you saw? What does it mean?" she demanded.

"Believe me," the man laughed mirthlessly with an edge of panic to it. "You don't want to know." He looked directly at the small fireball who was glaring at him with a menacing threat in her eyes. "Take my advice," he said in all seriousness, "forget about this or we'll all end up in prison." He then turned on his heel and moved to leave the horrendous situation he'd gotten himself into.

"Wait a minute," Debra grabbed hold of his arm again, using all of her five foot, one inch height and strength, along with the will of a giant to stop the man. Hannible turned with an irritated look on his face, but she didn't wait for him to speak. She grabbed hold of his lapels and forced him to bend down until his face was an inch from her own. When she was sure she had his undivided attention, she continued with her argument. "My friend here," she hissed as she motioned with a nod of her head towards Jason who stood still and stunned by her actions, "is living a waking nightmare. I just want to know why. What happened to him that he is forced to stay in an abusive relationship? Why does he suffer debilitating heart pain whenever he thinks about defending himself or tries to leave his abusive lover? Is this the type of situation the governments put the Integrated in?" she spat angrily. "If so, it's abusing his rights as an individual and as a citizen of this country. It's nothing short of being cruel and inhumane." She spoke with the same type of passion she always had when standing up and fighting for a good cause. To her, Jason was a damn good cause. He was worth fighting for. She'd come to that decision early on in their friendship, and if she could help him now, she'd damn well give it her all. "Now tell me what the hell that mark is on his ear and why does it seem to scare the shit out of you?"

During the course of her speech, Hannible's face turned from harsh and unyielding to an expression of concern laced with pity after learning a bit more about the timid young man standing nervously in front of him. Yet in watching the change in his expression, Debra noted the man's eyes also still held a trace of fear as he studied Jason's face.

"I'm only guessing here," the slightly older man said in a very low voice, his eyes darting around again to make sure they were alone in the hotel corridor. Seeing that they were, he continued. "But if he is who I think he is..." he stopped and shook his head in disbelief, "then I've got the worst luck in the world. What are the chances that I would unlock the mind of one of the notorious gundam pilots."

Debra's eyes widened almost comically as they went from Hannible to Jason, who looked equally as shocked. "No way," she whispered with disbelief, knowing her friend's timid nature.

"From what I've read about the pilots from the colonies, they were teenagers at the time, all of them small in stature to fit in the cramped cockpits of their gundams and each of them were highly trained. That makes Jason about the right age and size, and the mark on his ear is indisputable proof that he's one of them."

"Are you sure?" she choked out, her eyes never leaving Jason's shocked and pale face.

The other man nodded, his voice lowering further. "Yes. It's a well-known fact that the six people who piloted the gundams during the war underwent the Integration process in the Sanq Kingdom more than three years ago. That mark identifies him as one of them. To my knowledge, they're the only six people to have ever under one that procedure in that country: the five gundam pilots from the colonies and Zech Marquis, formerly an OZ officer who flew the gundam Epyon. Jason is obviously one of those pilots from the colonies."

"T..t...that's not r..right," Jason stammered. "I have a h..h..heart condition and I'm basically a chicken shit. I couldn't have been a gundam pilot," the young man in question spit out, looking frightened by the mere suggestion that he could have been something more than what he was now.

"Like I said," the taller man spoke firmly, looking at Debra. "We should just forget about this. He doesn't remember anything else. It's safer to just let sleeping dogs lie."

"No!" Debra responded heatedly as she absently pulled up the black bra strap that had fallen off her shoulder, returning it in place under the material of the elegant black, sleeveless dress she wore, a look of determination burning bright in her brown eyes.

"What time is it?" Jason interrupted, looking around as if he were lost. "I've got to be home by ten thirty."

Debra looked at the dainty gold watch on her wrist. "It's only nine fifteen, Jas. We have time."

"This is all fascinating but extremely dangerous to even talk about," the other man said, still scanning the area around them, to anyone who might have been watching, the movement giving him the appearance of being guilty of something.

"Look," Debra spoke up, her tone of voice was sharp and challenging. "Jason needs you. Are you going to help us here or not?"

There were several tense moments where Debra stood firmly in place, her facial expression leveling a challenge to the man who was weighing his options, his eyes often turning to rest on Jason who appeared young, insecure and unsure of himself and the situation. She grabbed hold of her friend's sleeve, assuring herself that he wouldn't run off as she observed a range of emotions running through the slightly older man's eyes. She wondered if Hannible was looking at Jason as the person who had once bravely fought for peace for the colonies, feared by the Alliance, OZ and White Fang, or if he thought of him as an unfortunate who, by some strange twist of fate, had been reduced to a frightened young man, abused and intimidated by his lover and unable to leave. She was relieved to see the taller man's face soften as he came to the conclusion she had hoped for.

"Alright, I'll help," he said in a reluctant, quiet voice, and as Debra let out the breath she'd been holding she gave Jason an encouraging smile. Mr. Hannible continued. "It might land me in prison, but from what you've told me, Mr. Phillips is already living in a prison of sorts, one not of his own making."

"My apartment is only about a mile from here," Debra told both men. "We can leave here and be there in five minutes to discuss this in a more private setting. I can give you a ride home after we talk, Jas, so you can be there on time."

The young man remained worried. "If Scott finds out I left the party..." He let the rest of his sentence unfinished, letting the others come to their own conclusion as to what might happen to him if that should happen.

Debra knew enough about Scott Mercer and his abusive behavior to understand that the fear displayed on her friend's face was very real. She turned to send a silent appeal to the other man who was staring at Jason with a frown on his face, then turned back to her friend. "Please, Jason, you have to get away from him. Maybe Mr. Hannible here can find a way to erase your fears. Maybe he can find out if your heart trouble is real or psychosomatic."

"That just might be the case," the other man spoke up. "From what I've read, part of the Integration process sometimes includes an implanted trigger that set off a physical reaction to certain negative impulses. It can be used to disabuse the subject from drug abuse, gambling addiction, abusing themselves or even running away." His eyes narrowed in thought for a moment. "Jason's heart pain and panic attacks could possibly have been programmed into his subconscious as a way to repress any violent emotions or thoughts he may have of running away. Such unconscious responses help contain and control the Integrated individual."

It was obvious that the entire conversation upset Jason terribly. He looked worriedly over his shoulder at the door to the room they'd left a short while ago. "But the party," he said with uncertainty. Deb knew he'd worked hard to organize the gathering inside the party room and that he felt responsible for its success.

"I'll ask Cheryl if she can see that it wraps up neatly and on time. I'll tell her I'm taking you home because you don't feel well." When her friend didn't look convinced that they were doing the right thing, she continued, not willing to take no for an answer. "I'll be back in five minutes. I'll get our jackets while I'm in there." She then turned to address the hypnotist. "Have you got your own car or would you like to come in mine?"

"I took a taxi here," Hannible replied. "I suppose a ride would come in handy."

"Back in five," she said, then turned and disappeared back into the room where the party was in full swing with someone singing a fairly good rendition of White Christmas into the rented karaoke machine, leaving the two men standing conspicuously in the hotel hallway, trying not to look at each other.

TBC

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