Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction / Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Cruelty ❯ Rosenkruez ( Chapter 1 )

Cruelty

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kruez or Gundam Wing.

A/N: yes, I know I took a lot of creative liberty here, and I know that what I say is Rosenkruez isn't really Rosenkruez. All I really used is the name; I've only seen the main series, so I don't know much about it anyways. Remember, this is my version of Crawford's life. If you don't like it, that's fine, but please don't badmouth me just because it's not accurate. I already know that it's not. Sorry for the rant. Thank you.

 

 

The small boy looked out the window of the car apprehensively. His father told him that they were almost there and the knot in his stomach tightened. His parents must have noticed his nervousness, for his mother turned in her seat to face him. “Don't worry, honey. This is a wonderful opportunity for you. You'll be able to make so much more of yourself than we did.”

“Just make sure you help us out when we're old.”

“Yes, papa.” The boy just continued watching the scenery. He was small for his age of seven, though just slightly, and he blended surprisingly well into the background. Then again, he lived in New York, and was from a poor family, with black hair and eyes that look brown at first, so not really all that surprising. It annoyed him when people said his eyes were brown. They weren't. They were amber.

The school was in sight now, and the boy had to admit it certainly look impressive. But he couldn't shake the sense of dread. As the car was parked and he walked towards the building with his parents, it grew.

A school official was standing outside the door, waiting for them. He ignored the boy's parents and addressed him directly. “So you're Brad Crawford?”

“…Yes”

“Well, just follow me, and say good-bye to your parents now.”

His father seemed uneasy at those words. “Don't we get to see the school?”

“No, policy.”

“…Oh.”

Brad turned to his parents and said his good-byes. As he was led through the door, the dread grew even more. It started to almost turn to panic. For one second he thought that the best thing to do would be to turn around and run back to his parents and get as far from this school as he could. But it was already too late. The heavy double doors slammed shut behind him. The official turned to him again.

“Welcome to Rosenkruez.”

 

The school seemed very…odd. Brad could tell why he felt dread, and why his parents weren't allowed in. The `students' were kept, not in rooms, but in cells. As he was led to his, brad could see that there were classrooms. Teaching basics, but also fighting. This school was training children how to kill.

His cell was clean at least. The only things in it were a bench and a toilet and sink. It could have been worse though. And brad felt that it would.

Brad adapter to the school quickly. And he thrived in the classes. He learned quickly, and soon was surpassing children older than him, in both normal classes and combat. He also quickly took to being very obedient, after finding out firsthand that students were beaten for the slightest infraction. He heard that once you get used to the beatings they switched to harsher punishments.

After he had been there for almost a year, had just gone past his ninth birthday, a different person came to his cell than his usual teachers. “Brad Crawford?” The boy nodded. “Follow me.”

Brad followed, and was led to another cell and thrown in. The man who brought him there left and soon returned with another kid, this one older and bigger than him, and threw him in as well. “Now boys. Tell you what you have to do. We're only going to feed one of you, so you two need to make sure only one needs to eat. Have fun.” The man left.

Brad still didn't completely understand, but now the bigger boy was rushing at him. He dodged, and he dodged again when the boy tried again. Brad realized that he was expected to fight this boy, to the death. He had learned fighting, yes, but had never killed anyone. He was only nine.

After a while of nothing happening, they must have gotten bored. Weapons dropped in from a hatch in the ceiling. Two knives. The other boy grabbed one and ran at Brad again. Brad dodged once again and ran for the other knife. The other boy circled him, looking for an opening. As Brad watched him, he noticed a coming headache. No…not again. The sight of the boy circling him faded away, and a vision appeared. Brad saw the boy, saw where he would strike, and where he would be open to a strike. As the vision left Brad noticed that the boy was in the position he saw him strike from, and moved. The boy moved as the vision foretold, and brad was able to drive his own knife into the boy's side. The older boy lay there, blood seeping from the side. A voice came from through the hatch. “What are you waiting for? Finish him!”

Brad didn't want to. He could tell, once he killed someone, his life would be changed, he would change. He dropped the knife.

“Insolent brat! How dare you disobey my orders! How dare you be weak!” Guards came in and dragged brad away, but not to his cell. He was brought to a strange room. The man who had originally led him to where the fight was waited for him. “You disobeyed me Brad. Obviously hitting you isn't getting the message across that you do not disobey your superiors, under any circumstance. More…drastic measures will have to be used.” The man gestured to the guards, who proceeded to drag Brad down to the ground and hold him there. Before Brad could grasp what was happening, they were tearing his clothes off, and soon there was pain, worse than any beating. When the guards finished with him the man came over. “This is your life from now on Crawford. Get used to it. You are going to be following orders all your life. There will always be someone above you.” The man turned to the guards. “Take him back to his cell.”