Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Art of Survival ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

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

The Art of Survival
Written by: Sutala Stormweaver
Prologue
 
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“Roughly 30% percent of the people on the planet posses a talent. It appears as a slight genetic mutation, or a cellular anomaly. About 98% of that initial 30% never develop their talents and die with no knowledge they were different to begin with. About .002% of the initial 30% can harness more than one ability, usually both talents are either psychic or somatic in nature. Rarely a dormant talent can be brought to life through a large shock to the brain or body, though it is an anomaly that has a 1 in 500 billion chance of occurring normally. All tests we have conducted of dormant talents being `shocked' into use have resulted in the subject either submitting to insanity or death.”
-Excerpt from an Eset geneticist's journal.
 
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Voices, soft and muffled, but voices all the same. And pain. Agonizing, bone chewing pain.
She groaned softly, deep violet eyes flickering open to take in the world around her. Then the panic hit. Gauzy grey light met her dilated pupils and she blinked rapidly in an effort to clear her vision. Nothing. Nothing but the cold gray mist. Swallowing her tears as she forced herself to regain her lost composure, breathing evenly and allowing her other senses to lead. The voices she'd been hearing remained quiet and undistinguishable, but she could make out two speakers. The sound of water lapping against rock and wind blasting through a far off tunnel hinted towards a cave of some sort, by the ocean most likely. The stench of blood, death and sea salt was heavy in the air and the combination made her already sensitive stomach churn. The air was cool and dank and her flimsy hospital gown clung to her shivering form, offering no protection from the elements. With a soft groan she forced herself into a sitting position, blinking frantically as tears sprung unbidden to her eyes. Little tendrils of liquid fire shot through her limbs, sending her back into the hard concrete with a pained gasp. Every inch of her body ached furiously.
“Ah! She's awake!”
The voice was unfamiliar, though it sounded undeniably relieved. She was momentarily startled when she found herself being draped in something heavy and warm, a coat it seemed. It smelled of leather and something spicy and distinctly masculine. It was a comforting scent. She croaked out a small thank you, but the words lodged in her throat, interrupted by a broken, agonized sob. She was vaguely aware of strong hands gently brushing back her damp bangs and a calm voice promising that everything would be ok. But it wouldn't. She could feel it. Something in the very core of her being had been pulled apart and put back together in a way that was so utterly different she almost wasn't sure if she was in her own body anymore.
“She ok?”
Another strange voice, this one younger and slightly less sure.­­
“I think she's in shock, chibi. Any luck contacting the others?”
She could make out the sound of a body shifting before one of them men settled next to her, a strange sort of protectiveness radiating from him.
“Ah…I haven't been able to contact Siberian or Abyssinian since before the collapse. I…I'm not sure if…”
“Don't say it! Don't you dare! They made it and they'll find us and get us out of here, do you understand?”
A long stretch of silence.
“Do you understand me, Bombay?”
“A….aa.”
The exchange between her faceless companions struck a cord deep within her. “P…ple…se…” she croaked softly. “What's….go…ing….on?” Once again a gentle hand against her cheek, brushing back her hair. She found herself unconsciously leaning into the touch, his presence as soothing as it was unfamiliar.
“Try to stay calm, we're going to get you out of here and then we'll tell you what's been going on these past few years, ok?”
Her mind reeled. Few years? But it had just been yesterday, hadn't it? The horrible accident that took her family from her. There was no way she'd missed out on so much time, it wasn't possible. She jumped when the sound of rubble crashing to the floor thundered through the relative silence of the room, followed by two sets of footsteps. One was steady, but slow and the other was uneven, as though the second person was being dragged or was injured.
“Bombay, report.”
Her breath caught in her throat. That voice she knew. Cold and toneless as it was, she would still know it anywhere. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words, her voice dried up like a desert stream after a sandstorm.
“No sign of enemy contacts. We lost track of Prodigy and Mastermind when the building was coming down but…your sister is awake.”
She was aware of her two unfamiliar companions leaving her side before she was gently lifted into a strong pair of arms. She blinked skywards, bringing a shaking hand up to trace the contours of her brother's face. She was startled when her fingers met with broken skin and layers of sticky blood in various stages of drying. She snatched her hand back as if burned, whispering a soft apology, tears once again stinging her eyes. What had happened here? What had her brother suffered while she slept?
“Let's go, Siberian needs medical attention and so does my sister.”
“So you do you, moron.” Another voice commented dryly, the sound weak and haggard. Under different circumstances she might have found the sarcastic quality humorous, as it was though she felt nothing but deep worry and confusion towards these three strangers and, especially, her brother.
She was aware of the other men moving to follow them and the feeling of being carried across uneven ground before all descended into darkness once more.
TBC…
 
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Author's Note/Disclaimer: Hm, so, yes. This idea came to me while, oddly enough, baking cookies and listening to Silversun Pickups. (If you haven't heard them go listen to them NOW because they rock) I have, obviously, warped the ending of Weiß to suit my needs, but what good fic author doesn't, right? Anyway, seeing as I don't particularly care for most of the female characters in this show Aya-chan and Manx will probably be the only two women who really get any paper time (computer time?) so, *gasp* there will be shounen ai/yaoi. And copious amount of it because, honestly, any fangirl worth her salt can't deny the blatantly obvious undertones this anime has. Sooo, that about covers it. Oh yes, I don't own Weiß. If I did we'd get consistent animation and Gluhen wouldn't exist. The end.