Ultimate Muscle Fan Fiction ❯ A Woman's Worth ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: By far my most diverse UM fic, this one is placed in a TOTAL alternate universe. This prologue is perhaps a bit slow and may seem off the subject, but it is necessary to set up the main storyline. The action will pick up in the next chapter, but until then, please bear with me. And the title of this one will make a lot more sense in later chapters - I completely accept that right now it seems like a screwy title for a fic about Jaeger as a soldier...

 

Also I'm aware that dates don't quite correlate to the world of Ultimate Muscle, but what the hey. Note IMF substitutes for IWF.

 

I'm reposting this because I did promise a loyal reader (who has helped and supported me muchly with my writing) that I would write a fic devoted to Jaeger, and he would be hard in it. So, more than 3 years later, I'm keeping good on my promise! Hope this can be all you hoped it would be (you know who you are).

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate Muscle or any of the characters herein, but I do own the A/U this fic takes place in!

 

-------------------------------------------------

 

Prologue

 

The rain fell relentlessly on a cold, dark October night, driving people indoors. The sky was thick with cloud, not a star in sight. A lone figure of a man walked calmly through the streets of a small village just outside of Berlin, a very long trenchcoat covering his body from the weather, the collar turned up around his jawline. A soft leather hat kept his head dry, and excessively large, black leather boots adorned with metal kept his feet warm.

 

Brocken Junior was heading in no particular direction, and was deep in thought; but a small shop window across the street attracted his attention. He stopped in his tracks, his straight-set eyebrows lowering over his eyes. Although it was late, and all the local shops were closed, a small electrical shop was still illuminated by six television sets in its window display, all playing out the same scene simultaneously.

 

“Feh,” Brocken muttered, stepping onto the cobbled road with a clunk.

 

He trudged across the old road, stopping by the window to watch the silent scene play out before his eyes. Brocken's top lip curled backwards in disgust as he watched Robin Mask lower himself to one knee before the Queen of England. It seemed the news channel was showing highlights of the events from earlier that day. Robin Mask receives his knighthood, the Muscle League Justice Chojins are heroes, the Intergalactic Military Federation reassures the public that the world is safe from the menace of the DMP, and humans the world over unite to celebrate victory and their newfound freedom.

 

A bright green ball rose through the sky with a fading scream, a stream of light behind it, before it exploded with a bang, falling down in a cascade of green dots. A red light followed, then a yellow, then a white. Brocken shook his head, pulling his cap further down his forehead he turned his back on the flashing and banging of fireworks, and began to walk away. He was certain that there would be no room for an aging man like him at any party, and no doubt his pessimistic and sceptical outlook would be equally as unwelcome. Whilst the whole world rejoiced at the apparent demise of an evil force that had run amok on Earth for many years previously, causing pain, suffering and even death to countless innocents, Brocken Junior could only dwell on the ominous thought that defeating the DMP had seemed far too easy.

 

Brocken thrust his hands into his coat pockets, hunching his shoulders against the miserably cold rain. In his opinion, it was idiotic to let off fireworks in such weather, and it was nothing short of masochism to expect that the DMP were truly gone for good and to rest on one's laurels. It was not that the fight against the band of Devil Chojins had not been trying or long; it was simply that the DMP had been seemingly defeated in the past, only to rise, much like the proverbial Phoenix from the flames, to be stronger, more resilient and even more deadly than before.

 

But Brocken's concerns had thus far fallen upon deaf ears; Suguru merely laughed at him, Terryman told him he was going crazy and Robin Mask told him he needed to find a new focus for his life. Brocken found absolutely nothing funny about the potential threat another new generation of DMP Devil Chojins posed for the Earth and he knew that he was not going crazy. As for finding a new focus in his life, all he had managed to find since the DMP disappeared was alcohol; and lots of it, at that.

 

With that thought in mind, Brocken aimed himself for the small tavern by the edge of the village, preparing himself for another night of trying his hardest to drown his sorrows and concerns in the hope that optimism and happiness would somehow shine into his life with the rising of the sun the next day.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------

 

With every passing year following the Muscle League's victory over the DMP, the people of Earth grew more and more complacent. A whole generation passed, a full twenty years, and still peace reigned on the benign planet. Those who were old enough to remember the dark, dismal times when the DMP had been a formidable force that wreaked havoc wherever they went were growing older, and the younger generations either did not believe the stories about the DMP, or failed to truly understand just how terrible those times had been. Even those who had lived through the ordeal had been healed with time, and often wondered if they had not perhaps been mistaken about just how dangerous the DMP were.

 

The Muscle Leaguers themselves were aging men, all of whom had moved on from their roles as super-human defenders of the innocent to lead more settled lives, all following a more domestic route in their careers. None of the old Justice Chojins gave so much as a second thought to the DMP; none, that is, except Brocken Junior.

 

Regarded as nothing more than a cynical, drunken old man, Brocken still refused to stop believing that the DMP had been disbanded forever; and he knew, deep down, that his suspicions were not unfounded. On the first day of the twenty-first century, a series of unusual crimes took place in various parts of the world, killing several innocent humans. Whilst no-one else would listen when Brocken suggested that it may have something to do with the DMP, scepticism began to grow amidst the Muscle League when the crimes continued throughout the year 2000.

 

Eight months into the year, close to one million people had been killed, all of whom were either female or under the age of eighteen. Although the people of Earth viewed the killings as nothing more than radical groups of terrorists who their governments would somehow take care of some time soon, the Muscle League began to take the threat a little more seriously, and began holding meetings at the IMF headquarters once a month to discuss and monitor the situation. Although Brocken attended every meeting, he still failed to get his point across.

 

And so Brocken decided against going to the August meeting. He was growing weary of being ridiculed and put down all the time, and so he instead he passed most of the day in the local tavern, only heading home when he ran out of money in his pocket. In his heavily inebriated state, Brocken took slightly longer than he usually would to notice that something was not quite right when he arrived home.

 

“Hello, Sir,” a voice greeted him.

 

Brocken squinted at the small figure hunched by his fireplace.

 

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Vhat are you doing here? How did you get in here? I von't have thieves in my house!”

 

“I'm not a thief, Sir,” the boy replied, chancing a small smile as he looked over his shoulder at Brocken. “You vere a very strong man in ze IMF, ja?”

 

Brocken edged closer to the boy, squinting harder. The boy's voice and youthful face made him appear to be about eight years old, yet he had the body of a very physically fit fourteen year old.

 

“Who are you?” Brocken asked again.

 

“My uncle and aunt called me Jaeger,” the boy replied, standing up and turning around to face Brocken. “And I came to see you because I vas hoping you could train me to become as strong as you are.”

 

Brocken slowly eyed the boy over, unable to disguise the scepticism in his face. The boy was dressed in torn, khaki green shorts, a ragged yellow vest, a well-worn pair of brown sandals, and on his head he wore a bright green helmet bearing the letter J.

 

“I don't train anyvon,” Brocken said coldly. “Least of all an impudent little boy like you. Now get out of my house and leave me alone.”

 

“Please, vait, zhere is somezhing I vant to show you first,” Jaeger said hurriedly. “Look at zhis!”

 

Jaeger spun around, chopping a hand through Brocken's stone fireplace, shattering it effortlessly. Brocken yelped out in alarm, his eyes widening as the boy turned back to face him, grinning sheepishly as he prodded a toe at the pile of rubble he had reduced the fireplace to so readily.

 

“You are a superhuman!” Brocken gasped, walking up to the boy.

 

“So vill you train me?” Jaeger asked optimistically.

 

Brocken eyed Jaeger over again, a smile slowly creeping onto his tired, aging features.

 

“Jaeger, you say?” he asked.

 

Jaeger nodded, his eyes large and bright with unrestrained youthful exuberance and determination.

 

“From today mein boy, you are my schuler!” Brocken said, grabbing the boy up and holding him above his head. “I vill train you in ze vays of a superhuman; can you survive brutal training to become ze best?”

 

“I von't give up, I just vant to get stronger!” Jaeger replied, daring a small smile as he looked down at Brocken.

 

Brocken could not help but smile himself as the sight of the eager young boy brought memories of his own childhood flooding back into his mind; the days when he had believed himself invincible, unstoppable and had spirit enough to make all his dreams come true. The threat of the DMP, the mysterious terrorism around the world and the idea of drinking away the rest of his life began to melt away from Brocken's conscience. This innocent boy with his irrepressible spirit was not only the saviour that the world needed in such dark times, but he was a blessing upon Brocken's own life, as at last he had a focus, something to work for, a contribution he could make to the efforts to fight the problems building across the globe.

 

“Ze training begins immediately,” he said, straightening out his smile and roughly planting the boy back onto his feet.

 

But still the sparkle danced across the boy's eyes as he nodded keenly in agreement. Perhaps, Brocken thought to himself, this boy could exceed even his high expectations.

 

-------------

 

The heavy, low ringing of the clock tower from down in the centre of the small town informed Brocken that it was nine o'clock; and he almost felt ashamed that he was yawning, his feet and hands betraying him in his tiring state, causing his bicycle to snake around beneath him until he snapped himself back to attention and righted it. It had been raining all day, it was unusually cold for a late summer's evening and the route Brocken was taking through the little town was on a distinct incline, that only appeared to be getting steeper as Brocken's environment determined to exhaust him. But looking ahead of himself, up the slope at the middle of the road, Brocken saw the reason that he had to continue.

 

It had been almost two years since Jaeger had come to live with Brocken, and everyday was spent training in every aspect of being a defender of the planet. Brocken had been increasingly harsh on the boy, physically and psychologically, and still the glow of determination shone from his eyes, still he squared his jaw, straightened his back and confronted every challenge with the same vigour he had possessed on the day Brocken had first encountered him. Ahead of Brocken, the young boy was running up the road in badly worn shoes, ragged shorts and a tattered vest, seemingly oblivious to the conditions around him, and apparently unhindered by the old church bell he was dragging behind him by means of a rope Brocken had tied around his waist.

 

Brocken pushed himself a little harder as he found Jaeger pulling away from him. As much as he hated to admit it, the boy was starting to become too much for him. By the time he was grown, Brocken knew that he would no longer be any use to Jaeger as a teacher, no longer strong enough to keep up with his youthful speed, strength and agility. But Brocken had already decided that when that day did arrive, it would be time to tell Jaeger about the Hercules Factory, and enrol the boy there, where Brocken was confident that Jaeger would excel and graduate at the top of his class, surely landing himself a place amongst the ranks of the Elite Squad, the finest ranking of defending military officers who oversaw the protection of Earth.

 

But just as images of Jaeger donning the scarlet graduation gown marking him as an Elite entered Brocken's mind, he was suddenly brought hurtling back down to Earth as a sight in direct contradiction of his dreams played out before him. On the road ahead of him, Jaeger had just collapsed from exhaustion, the bell rolling back behind him and dragging his limp body a short distance back down the road before the laws of friction slowed them both to a halt.

 

“Jaeger!” Brocken yelled, leaping off his bike and sprinting up the hill, his own fatigue soon forgotten as a rush of panic spiked the adrenaline in his body.

 

Before Brocken's bike had fallen to the ground behind him, he was on his knees at Jaeger's side, his jaw hanging open, his eyes wide as he took in the boy's appearance. As hard as Brocken was pushing Jaeger, it appeared that Jaeger had been pushing himself even harder; his face was pale, his limbs were trembling and his lips were blue.

 

“Jaeger, talk to me!” Brocken said, touching a hand to his shoulder and gently shaking him.

 

“I'm sorry, Lehrer Brocken…” Jaeger said, his voice faint.

 

To Brocken's utter astonishment, Jaeger placing his shaking hands flat against the road and pushed himself up, arranging his feet beneath himself before daring to attempt standing upright. He wavered a little, his complexion turning a worrying shade, suggesting he was about to vomit from sheer exhaustion, and on instinct, Brocken reached out his hands towards Jaeger, ready to catch him before he fell again. Jaeger had yet to open his eyes, but Brocken could see that his fall had drawn blood from his bare knees, elbows, palms and nose; but as Brocken tried to help him, Jaeger pushed back his offer, his eyes snapping open and fixing onto Brocken in an iridescent glare that told Brocken the fall had done no more than harden Jaeger's unshakeable resolve to become stronger.

 

Brocken let out a small noise of bewilderment as Jaeger started off again, quickly picking up his pace and running onwards even faster than before. Realising that he would never catch the boy on foot, Brocken hurried back to his bicycle, mounting it and pedalling as fast as he could to pass Jaeger. No child, superhuman or otherwise, possessed such raw ambition without a staggering amount of motivation, and that worried Brocken. What was this boy's motivation? What was it that gave this mere child the courage to fight on, to push himself to his physical limits and beyond? Jaeger claimed that he “just wanted to be strong”; but Brocken was no idiot, and he had finally had enough of accepting that tired old excuse from Jaeger. Cycling hard, Brocken passed Jaeger and swung around in front of him, braking across Jaeger's path and forcing him to stop.

 

Brocken stood astride the bicycle, frowning at Jaeger expectantly, but his look was returned with one of confusion from Jaeger, who despite still looking awful still had the hardened look of an infallible resolve on his face. Brocken threw aside his bike with a curse, marching up to Jaeger and grabbing his vest, yanking him off his feet to bring the boy's face level with his own.

 

“Vhy are you doing zhis?” he demanded. “Vhy are you pushing so hard? Vot drives you? Answer me honestly zhis time!”

 

Jaeger's confusion shifted to a look of almost impatience that he had been interrupted and that his teacher should need to ask such a question.

 

“All my life, people treated like a pest because of my veird powers,” Jaeger began, his voice strong and clear despite the fact that his body was shivering violently in Brocken's hands. “But my aunt and uncle treated me like a normal person, zhey raised me like a normal boy. Von day I came home and a gang of men vere attacking my aunt and uncle because of me, because zhey believed I vas a monster! I fought zhem, but zhey beat me down and ran off. I voke up after zhey had gone, but I vas too late. My uncle vas already dead and my aunt vas dying. I couldn't save zhem!”

 

“I see…” Brocken said slowly, lowering Jaeger back to the ground. “You came to me to train you so zhat you could kill people you hate.”

 

Jaeger swayed as his full weight rested on his feet once more, but he was sent flying to one side as Brocken smacked him hard across the face, catching him with a back-handed slap as he fell, sending him back again.

 

“Ve superhumans cannot zhink ve are better zhan humans because of our superior strength!” Brocken yelled at him. “It is out duty to protect and defend, not to abuse our powers for selfish gain!”

 

Brocken made to deliver a third slap, but Jaeger charged forwards, avoiding the blow and driving his head into Brocken's gut, the head-butt strong enough to force the air from Brocken's lungs, sending him staggering back choking in shock.

 

“I'm not training to kill!” Jaeger shouted, balling his fists and glowering up at Brocken, his face bruised, muddied and soaked from the rain, his bright eyes only shining all the brighter by comparison. “But I can't forget vot happened to my aunt and uncle! I'm training to fight for people like my aunt and uncle, to protect zhem so zhat zhey never have to suffer like my aunt and uncle did!”

 

Brocken touched a hand to the red mark Jaeger's helmet had left on his bare chest, tilting his head a little as he eyed the boy before him. He suspected that Jaeger had actually broken a little, and it almost looked as though he was crying; but against the rain on his face it was difficult to be sure. Brocken reached a hand towards him, pausing as Jaeger's eyes thinned and he winced a little in anticipation of another blow. Brocken felt suddenly guilty as he took in the little wretch's appearance, gently touching his hand to the top of Jaeger's helmet.

 

“I just vant to be strong!” Jaeger whispered.

 

“And I just vant to help you achieve zhat dream,” Brocken said softly.

 

Jaeger stepped forwards and loosely put his arms around Brocken's waist, burying his face into Brocken's abdomen. Brocken stiffened a little before sighing out in defeat and resting his hands onto Jaeger's shoulders, allowing him to hold on until his sobs had subsided. After all, the boy had worked so hard, and now that Brocken was confident that his intentions were perfectly good, he finally felt that Jaeger truly would be the light of hope for the failings of the world they lived in.

 

-------------

 

Next Chapter: After several years of intense training, Brocken takes Jaeger to the Hercules Factory to train as a defender of Earth, where Jaeger makes some friends in his fellow trainees; although one cadet in particular makes a significant impression on Jaeger. Chapter 1 - The Hercules Factory.

 

A/N(2): Don't expect frequent updates (at the moment anyway). Too busy with work and Power Struggle, but I will try to get some chapters up in between all that.