Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Lovely Electric ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

AN: Hee-hee, I've been working on this privately for a month, just for the competition.. I like it like this...It's pretty much an (unwanted) dedication to Raletha's "Pretty Electric".. I totally disclaim anything of hers and the fic, and thus the title.. Which I thought on the whim and am kinda' proud of.. It might sound stupid and cheating but I really like it.

Summary: Three elite citizens of the Romefeller Foundation, the increasing nation bent on taking on every inferior country left from the Great War, discover the conspiracies behind their continuing success. This trio of Specials, genetically engineered humans to do the work of the five leaders from Head Office- their central government-, are more or less trapped in the plans to overthrow the leading rule. This plan is reinforced by their doughty sexdolls, pyschologically inept cyborgs of amnesic men and women from the planes conquered by the Foundation. Even if they lose everything and their lives, the Specials and their dolls know that there are far worse things than death.

Warnings: Pschological craziness and the insane. Sex. Maybe some bashing of characters, if you are twitchy enough about it.

Disclaimer: If I owned this computer completely, maybe I would also own Gundam Wing and its characters, but, no, they rightfully belong to Hajime Yatate and Yoshiyuki Tomino. I don't own this quote either:

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. ~Norman Cousins

But it truly sums up symbolizes the relationship between my Specials and their dolls. So here goes..




Lovely Electric- Chapter 1





What do you think of....death?

"N-no! I can change back! I can change back!!"

...Do you think of death?

"I can go back to being a-a-a robot! Please!"

Are you capable of thinking death?

"I'm bleeding! I can't bleed! I'm a robot! A robot!!"

Even when you're living, what is the meaning of death?

"....I...don't want to be scrapped...my brother..."

What good is living...without knowing death?

"...I don't want to die...not yet..I have someone..to protect.."

Without knowing the death of love...

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At that time, he was supposed to meet his new owner, his first owner: a noble Special, worthy of a sex clone of his stature, beauty. He was going to be his loyal little toy until the Special got bored, and then he'll go to his next owner, then the next, then the next. Until he was outmoded, rugged, useless, and scrapped.

In the midst of all this... He will feel nothing. No happiness, no pain, no hate. Why? Because he was a Class-A, cyber-genetically enhanced clone, who needed nothing, expected nothing. A robot-engineered cyborg, emotionless.

But the guard had to take a piss, and told him urgently not to go anywhere. There was a noise nearby, down the hall somewhat, a quick trip and back. That's all it took. But why?

An emotion slipped then: curiosity. They never managed to completely exclude that from the data of his mainframes, they explained, that was why they electrocuted him until he felt nothing, nothing at all. When his curiosity diverged him from his initial task- which would be his natural state of nothingness- a volt would charge throughout his body, and he'd know no more.

Curiosity came back, though, crowded out the years of excruciating painful lessons, made him want to go down the hall somewhat, find out that horrifying secret.

Cyborgs were all machinery, wires, gadgets, gizmos. They were artificial intelligent computers. When damaged, the Special informs the Head Office- who control the cyborgs, the city, the Specials, the Commoners. They were the leaders that kept everything in check, with the help of their knights in shining armor Specials.

They were liars.

He wasn't a cyborg... nor was that Catherine Bloom, 'scrapped' for screaming at her master, entirely un-doll-like behavior, for they acted only what they were told to act- an assassin, a whore, a little kid. She was unrepairable, a hopeless cause, and for the sake of everyone and everything and herself, she needed to be scrapped.

But she bled.

She cried.

She died.

No one noticed his little malfunction, no one. Not the scrapper, not the guard, not his new owner, nor the next one, or the next one or the next. They were all the same. None of them knew. The owners took their way over his body. They all thought he felt nothing.

They were right.

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"You are the cutest damn thing I ever saw in my life! Though, you shouldn't be with a guy like me. I ain't gonna do no right by you."

How he chattered, with inane irresponsible grammar, Duo Maxwell did. He wasn't drunk like some, the ones who talked to let themselves drool on their expensive vests and blouses. Not like the lonely louts who forget the programming and believe that the cyber doll will talk by itself of its own accord and have full-fledged conversations with them. Not like perverts who let string random dirty phrases to get themselves heated up and by arrogant taste believe they have aroused him.

No, he talked not only because he enjoyed it, not only because he believed what he said, but also because...because...because...

Why? Why did he talk so much?

"It never felt right to have a sexdoll. Fucking a robot? Not my thing. I'd rather have a real babe, guys are fine too, but girls aren't as sterile as they think, so here they shove this pretty ass to me."

Yes, Specials could rebel at the drop of a dime. Genetically enhanced humans, all of them, pressed in line by the sexdolls. They were given uncontrollable sex drives- since pleasure was the most easily dominated factor of the human brain; but they couldn't breed, just more trouble for Head Office. Often, Specials were given same-sex lovers, which they could exchange for another in a week's time. Especially if the doll failed to suit their tastes, that made them unhappy; and if Specials weren't happy, they couldn't do the dirty work for Head Office.

He knew this; past owners always let everything go around their sexdolls. If they weren't programmed to react, they will not react, just like they were told they would. So they let it all come out.. all of it.. their fantasies... their failed missions...their loneliness...

"Hey, if you want me to stop talking, all you gotta say is 'please stop talking, my ears are going to fall off!'" Duo gave him an erratic smile. He stirred up the cybermash, some silicon-rich mess that tasted like the end of a screwdriver, metallic, and always served cold. Of course, it wasn't really silicon-rich, more like nutrient rich. These meals took away the luxury of flavorful foods from the clones. It was much more sophisticated to control the part of the brain that controlled taste.

Duo himself had pizza delivered, with soda. It was a celebration for his great job at his mission last month, taking out some secret organization or other. He had a few friends over, who already finished dining in the common room, but he and his master were in the kitchen, for it was time to feed him.

His newest master was so... gentle. For the week he has owned him, it was nothing but gentle talk, gentle touch, subtle, gentle questions. It was all so problematic.

He could feel again, that was the problem. The irresponsibility that was Duo's ownership, he has not giving him any sort of orders at all, made his mind stray, and think, and think... All the training becoming buried in this compassionate, selfless man who unconsciously believed he was more than a robot, a cyborg, or an artificial intelligent being.

As if he was human. It made him warm inside, disintegrated the torture-ingrained rules of stoicism.

"You're doing it again!"

He blinked, looking at his master with a surprised face- a face of emotion; his master mirrored the expression.

"See, when you blank out, then you look all astonished and whatnot.. I didn't program you to do that at all.. The scientist said you guys,"-Guy, he was a guy-"aren't adaptable except what what your masters say to you. Why are you so different?"

"It must be a malfunction, master. Maybe I need to be checked out."

A chestnut eyebrow rose. "Checked out? Don't you guys say stuff like 'examined'?"

They did. He was losing it.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you saying sorry?"

"I used incorrect vocabulary."

His master shook his head. "No, no, I mean why? Do you believe I care whether or not you say 'examined' or 'checked out', when it is the same either way? Wouldn't it be more natural to say 'Master, do you want me to say examined or checked out'?"

Duo was right; that was the appropriate answer. He was losing it.. He was acting..acting...

"But I like it, I really do. I don't really like the thought of artificial intelligent robots like sexdolls are, but you make it seem like you aren't all machinery, more human, ya' know?"

Yes, he was acting more...human...

"Time to eat. I just want to show you off really." He winked, but the heart the sexdoll knew he had plummeted between his bare feet. What if they weren't like Duo, who liked that he acted more human, and took him back?

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Setting the meal on the small table around which the company gathered, Duo gestured his doll to place himself on the pillow next to Treize Kushrenada. Unlike Duo, who was a merchant, he was the Head Office's Supreme Military Commander, Special, of course, and picky about his dolls just as he was about his army. He's never had a doll more than a week or so he'd received it- or shoved on his doorstep, as he would like to say.

However, it was a media special one day on Prime Time 8 o' Clock News that he had received the clone of Milliardo Peacecraft, prince of the Sanq Kingdom the Head Office had conquered years ago. The real prince was dead, of course; nevertheless, Treize Kushrenada wanted to keep the sexdoll, saying that the boy's novelty was aesthetic to his tastes.

However, the doll knew Milliardo as he knew the other clones; they were all made simultaneously and together. Milliardo had trouble in his wiring (training) even with the shocks, and burn torture of their serial numbers, burned on the side of their shins; he was still able to let a certain emotion through sometimes. Anger. Why would a clone be angry, he wanted to know, though now Milliardo sat motionless next to his master. He was a gently sculpted type, muscular, but not too muscular- feminine sinew sort of, especially with his long platinum-blonde hair.

The prince clone sat next to Quatre Raberba Winner, another clone of a deep desert country prince, very gentle; his feeling of empathy for others really confused the scientists to the point they tried a new technique other than physical torture; they used other dolls and inflicted pain and suffering on them to torment Quatre mentally until he became like all the rest, broken.

He was the doll of Heero Yuy, a Special assassin, whose inbred operations went awry. The man had trouble with his libido, finding it easy to conceal his problem from others, but his run through slaves made it possible for the media to catch wind of it. In the end, he opted for therapy and two slaves. The other was an Asian scholar clone, a genius, a proud genius, who fooled the manufacturers time and time again with his clever acts, but caught each time, then controlled finally, to the minute detail, as usual.

These thoughts ran through his head as he curiously picked through them, finding the information interesting. Another interesting thought came to him; a fleeting notion... He felt like he was being watched somehow.

He was deep in thought. Robots don't think, especially if their master is calling them.

"Maybe because he hasn't eaten? His energy is low?" Treize offered, eying his blank eyes with amusement.

"No, no, I feed him at the same time everyday!"

"Call its name," Heero said. He had leaned forward closely regarding the matter.

It. He was an it to Heero Yuy.

"I'm telling you, this happens, like, a lot. He's been doing it for the last three days, just going off to La-la Land!" Duo threw up his hands, smiling warmly. "I think it's sort of cool, you know. Trowa?" he called, in a singsong voice.

"What is so cool about your doll malfunctioning?"

Duo nodded in acquiesce before furrowing his eyebrows. "You mean, none of ya'lls dolls do this? Haven't any of them, you know, did something out of the ordinary?"

The two Specials considered this for a moment.

Treize spoke first, changing the subject: "He seems surprised."

"Do you want me to eat the meal, sir?" Trowa had to say something.

"What?"

"Usually, when setting the meal before me, you tell me to eat it."

"Hn. You just confused it, that's all." Heero shrugged, sipping his drink.

Duo didn't let the matter rest. "You know when we all have to attend the big Auction or whatever? Well, I saw Trowa here and you know what he did sometimes when someone walked by?"

They waited, humoring their friend.

"He looked up!"

In any other case, this would have been natural. At the Auction, though, all the sexdolls were ordered to keep their face forward and not move a muscle until a guardian told them too. The Specials knew this, and they knew that Duo wouldn't lie. Heero raised his eyebrows, quite intrigued.

"But when the guardian dude came over to ask him what was the matter," Duo continued, "Trowa said it was almost time to finish, and that the guardian dude had said that all the clones were, like, going to move around then. Of course it was all true but.... Okay, I don't think I'm making myself clear... Alright, a few minutes ago, in the kitchen, Trowa blanked out again. He said it was a malfunction and maybe he needed to go get checked out. It seemed like, I don't know, like, like..."

"He was covering it up?" Treize offered, smiling warmly.

Trowa stiffened as his master enthusiastically replied, "Yea! That's it!"

Abruptly, Heero seated Wufei in his lap. "I don't think we should be doing this, but, I believe this is like your doll." He let loose the tie in his slave's hair, letting the strands cascade just a little past his shoulders. The cobalt-eyed assassin held his doll's shoulders securely and then began to blow his hairs slightly, the tips whispering a little to tickle his neck.

Wufei twitched.

"Extraordinary," Treize breathed, "If I had known there were these sorts of glitches, I would have kept some of them from the past."

"I'm not done yet. They are only supposed to feel what we tell them to feel, right?" Heero asked, whistling steadily into Wufei's hair. The doll's hands began to curl up, bottom lip protruding almost into a pout.

So, there was another like him.

The assassin kept at it until Wufei moved his head out of the way; when sat back upon his pillow, he actually searched for his hair tie and bound his loose ends again.

"Quatre hides from me in the night. I think he doesn't want me to fuck him." Heero shrugged. "You, Treize, everything is alright with him?"

"He fights me."

The room went silent before the merchant spoke, "Wait, don't you order your dolls to fight back? Like, put up a struggle? The reason we're all friends because we're into that freaky shit." Duo gave Milliardo a look, who passively looked back.

"Precisely, and why do you think I've kept him so long. He actually fights. Not like some brainless whore who has been through an act a thousand times."

"Give an example," Heero demanded, the whole affair having grabbed his absolute attention.

"For example? A couple of days ago I woke him up pretty late in the day and told him to make something for me to eat. He said that since I have enough energy to wake him up, I have enough energy to make lunch." Duo barked out a laugh. "The catch is, I only asked him to put up resistance in our nights together. I specifically told him so."

"How about I just top it all off, you know, and, besides my mission and all, get down to the business on why we're really gathered here." A mysterious gleam struck the purple irises in his eyes. "You all saw on the news that my pet 'wandered' outside my house, right?" Nothing needed to be said; it was a rhetorical question. "Why did you leave the house, Trowa?"

"This is dangerous, Duo. They weren't made to be interrogated like this," Heero said, but his eyes shone attentively.

"If they were made at all, that is and unless you are going to report me like Une reported Dorothy for cutting her sexdoll up? Where the hell has she and her pet gone? That always made me wonder. Trowa?"

The doll in question watched Heero. The boy carefully hid his fear that, whether or not Duo was reported, if Heero let free of his 'malfunctions', he'll be scrapped.

"I won't say anything," he finally said. "In the case that I might, I would also have to tell them about Treize's doll and mine. Then I'd be bored."

Relieved, Trowa scanned the group, the dolls most importantly. Quatre, for one, had his head cocked to the side, waiting. This made him feel a whole lot better.

"I thought that....if I escaped... then I wouldn't have...I wouldn't have to fight...them anymore..."

In any other place, with any other master, this would have sent him straight to the factory, shot with cyanide in various areas. But he was with gentle Duo, who asked gentle questions.

"Fight what?"

Wufei spoke softly, "His emotions. He wouldn't have to fight his emotions." When everyone's attention turned to him, he sat up a bit straighter. "That was what the training was for. To reduce our emotions, our reactions to pain and.. and feeling. Eventually I got stats right and passed...It's all coming back together.."

Heero glared at Wufei's insolence, but everything began to piece together. Why would robots need to be trained like animals? Why would they need to, say, use the restroom, even if it was to restore authenticity for a master? Why would they daydream or suspiciously draw out an answer to an easy question?

Because...they weren't robots. They were human beings, under his control.

An erection began to form, the uncontrollable hormones instilled into his genes since birth. The thought of finally taking a responsive 'doll' aroused him to no end, but this was more important than a good night of sex. It was hard to think that, anyway. He took his bottle of medicine from his jacket pocket and popped three.

"We've dug a one-way tunnel for ourselves, gentlemen. Now, they have reattachment to their regular selves that only training could reverse again." Treize leaned towards his 'doll' sympathetically.

"Does that mean I don't have to call you master anymore?" Milliardo finally said something. "Shouldn't all of you do the civil thing and let us go?" His eyelashes fluttered rapidly in his thought.

Trowa didn't want to die, but neither did he want to be separated from Duo. Quatre even wrapped his small arms around his master, a bit confused at the moment, but catching the gist of it.

Treize leaned back, relaxed, pleasantly aroused. "Do you remember anything before your...training?"

The prince clone frowned, as did the rest of the clones, not answering, not remembering.

"Well, why not stay awhile with me until you do?" The clone deigned to answer, obstinately focusing on the pizza in front of him.

"You'll want to fuck me again."

"But this time, you will feel it, and enjoy yourself, wouldn't you?" Again, his pet said nothing, but a blush bloomed to his cheeks.

Duo cried out, thunking his head on the table, alarming everyone. "We have just disclosed the biggest damn conspiracy the nation has yet to know, and all I can think about is having sex with him. You know what I'm thinking? Want to know exactly what I'm thinking?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I'm thinking on punishing him for trying to escape me. Ugh! I sound like a pervert. Damn Head Office, probably did this shit on purpose."

"I don't mind if you're a pervert, Duo. I wouldn't care if you punished me." Another feeling blossomed in Trowa, not in his chest, which felt pleasantly warm, but near his groin, which felt hot and fuller. He's heard the phrase a thousand times and then some, but never had saying 'punish' sounded so lewd and rich as it did now.

Obviously, Treize thought the same, for he choked on his drink. "Didn't expect that...Hmmm.. Why? Why would they do this?"

Milliardo scoffed, folding his arms, feeling natural doing so. "Keep Specials in check, do you think they would say they were torturing thousands into being sociopaths that'll do whatever you say?"

"Point taken. On that note, I am going to make my leave; it's rather late." Treize, as well as the other two Specials, stood and walked to the door with their pets, minus Trowa, who curiously ate a bit of pepperoni.

"We should talk about this again," Heero said as farewell, and the door closed behind him.

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Cont.

AN: This came out longer than I expected.. I didn't even think it would be this deep.. But when things flow, I just go with it.