Cyborg 009 Fan Fiction ❯ Bullet in the Dark ❯ Thoughts ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I own Cyborg 009. Of course I do. I also own magic flying monkeys. *major sarcasm*

Bullet in the Dark

Chapter 1: Thoughts

Author's Note:

Thanks for all the reviews last time, people! I totally appreciate it. Feedback is a joy to all writers! As I said, this story is going to be dark, but will probably lighten up. *sigh* I always start of really dark, but it gets better. I'm trying my best on this! Please tell me what you think!

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Françoise sighed as she sat down into her balcony. Her life was a whirlwind of dances, parties, and laughter. What more could she wish for?

Too bad it was all so overbearing sometimes.

Like a heavy, musty blanket the social society of the rich covered her, choked her in their games. She felt suffocated, that her lungs screamed for air, but there was no way she could escape.

She glanced at the view in front of her. A few birds chirped in the trees, delighting the girl.

How free they were! To fly wherever they wanted, like sprites.

She longed for wings. Wings so she could take off with them, to never be bothered by anyone ever again. To fly…

A bird flew down, a little drab sparrow, but to Françoise, it was a ray of golden sunshine, which people so open said her hair was like.

On the balcony rail it hopped, as if doing a strange little dance for her.

Smiling lightly, she got up and curtsied to it.

"Monsieur Sparrow, may I delight you with this dance?" she asked playfully.

The sparrow chirped, its little voice singing its own special song.

"Why thank you, Sir!"

Instantly, she was in position. The dances she had been taught and practiced so many times all rushed back to her.

She danced, eyes closed, without fear. Pivoted, twirled, her lithe form hugging the red dress.

Dizziness overcame her, and she collapsed in her chair once more. Laughing, she knew these were the only moments --only moments ever-- that she would enjoy in her world.

A dark voice came from the shadows behind her.

"You dance by yourself, and not with me?" it asked, voice cold, masculine.

Françoise instantly got up, hands involuntary flying up to her hair to smooth it down. Looking respectfully down at her feet, she clasped her hands and said quietly, "No, Monsieur."

"In that case, shall we go?"

Seeing she was left without a choice, all she could do was nod. "Yes, Monsieur."

The dark figure held out his arm, which Françoise took hesitantly. She was molded into the dark, and the two figures disappeared.

But not before he could see her shudder.

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Flashback ~

"Arnoul is one of the strongest politicians in the world! If this marriage with his daughter and him is successful, he will be the strongest man --politically-- in the world!" the voice boomed.

"In other words, this must not happen."

"Of course not, idiot! Do you wish to become weak?"

"No, Sir."

"Then eliminate her!"

"The daughter, sir? Why not the man?"

"You know very well he is a supplier of our… company. She, on the other hand, is worth nothing!"

"Yes sir. She will be exterminated immediately, sir."

"Good…"

"009!"

The young man, below average in height with brown hair and flashing brown eyes instantly appeared.

"Yes?" His voice was cold, as if all feelings had been wiped from them. In fact, the only expressions on his whole face were his eyes.

Beautiful eyes… They told stories about his feelings, a window to his soul.

"Another job, 009."

He was silent.

"Kill Françoise Arnoul. Her file will be sent. She is to be killed tonight."

"Yes sir."

The feelings were gone again. The eyes were no longer living. It was as if he had died, and was only there as a zombie.

"Tonight."

"Yes sir."

~ End of Flashback

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He stood on the roof, watching her retreat back into the room.

He smiled bitterly. She was just another innocent, a chess piece that must be gotten rid of.

And he was the piece they used.

A dirty killing machine, as he loved to remind himself so often. Just a dirty killing machine.

'But that won't stop you, will it, 009?' he reminded himself.

009. He hated that. He wasn't just a number waiting to be called. He was a person.

Corrupt, tainted --horrid--, but still a person.

And what about her?

She was pure, like the sunrises he remembered he cherished as a child.

What about now?

He was never close to anything.

Never trust anything.

Love a possession, and feel heartbroken when you lose it.

Love a pet, and feel crushed when they die.

Love a person, and see how you feel when they betray you.

He was never close to anything…

No… He was too smart for that.

Too old, in a sense.

Not age-wise, mind you.

But 18, he knew, just 18.

But what he had seen --what he had done-- would age him like nothing ever could.

He wondered if he had a conscience sometimes.

He felt no guilt, no pain, when his victims begged for mercy.

Usually they died before they even knew he was there, so he considered that enough.

But he knew that he had feelings.

Or at least, he felt the things that gave him pain.

He felt the pain, anger, devastation when his family were killed him front of his eyes.

He knew their fear when the bullets pierced their bodies.

And he also knew he could do nothing about it.

That was why he became an assassin, a 'dirty killing machine'. He knew now he could do something about it. Was the so-called Angel of Death. He could decide if they died quickly or full of pain.

He loved the sense of control.

Maybe that was why he killed for fun.

No, he didn't care about money. Money was pieces of paper, or disks of minted metal.

What did he care about material possessions?

Was he crazy?

He hadn't thought about that for a while. He felt sane enough, but would a sane person enjoy the feeling of death?

He wasn't a psychopathic killer, for he didn't chose who he killed.

Just a player in a game, just a tool in box, just a thorn on a rose…

Just a person searching for something he lost.

Searching for a person, a feeling, a tear…

Compassion. Love. Warmth for his soul.

He didn't believe in it anymore.

The world was a harsh place, and it was kill or be killed.

He choice to live.

Birth, pain, death, birth, pain, death.

It was an endless cycle that he had experienced far too many times.

Birth, pain, death.

He wished for something better.

Birth, pain, death.

He wished he could stop.

Birth, pain, death.

He knew there was nothing more to do.

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*sob* That was really deep! I don't know where those feelings came from! You might have noticed that 009 is really OCC. He's meant to be. He'll change, though, no worries! Hope you liked the chapter!