quixotic: Fandom | Ava's Demon (Abandonment issues keep raging)
The Windmill Lover ([personal profile] quixotic) wrote in [community profile] quixotism2012-11-23 07:21 pm

[fanfic] [Generator Rex] Casualties of War

“Every Friday, Rex saved someone’s life and ended another’s. Dr. Holiday called it a 50/50 chance, Bobo called it dem breaks, and Six, Six called them casualties of war.”

Rex can’t remember the day he woke up. Not really. It’s a little disappointing because you should remember the first day of your life, shouldn’t you? But it’s blurry in his mind. He remembered Six bending over him, remembered thinking, “Couldn’t you have sent me a better looking angel, God?”.

(the other details, like White glaring at him through the screen, screaming as his body twisted beyond his control, a man with blank eyes were things he was better off forgetting. For once)

He may not remember the first day, but he remembered the first week. Mondays and Thursdays were training days, Wednesdays were Petting Zoo days, and the weekends were Dr. Holiday checkup days (he still had mixed feelings on those days). But Fridays, Fridays were the worst.

Fridays were cure days.

Rex never knew how word got out (because White Knight sure as hell doesn’t advertise his secret weapon ) , but on the first Friday, there were rows and rows of people with their loved ones. EVOs.

At first, he had no clue what was going on and tugged on Six’s jacket, “Six why are they all here?”

Six was expressionless (since he’s a NINJA) but his jaw clenched and that scared Rex beyond belief, “They’re here for you.”

“Are they taking me to a new home?” Rex heard Holiday and Six discuss when they thought Rex was sedated.

“No,” Six said calmly, “They’re here for a cure.”

“Oh,” Rex replied finally, relaxing, “That’s easy. Piece of cake! Can I get pizza if I do a good job?”

Six did the jaw-clenching thing again and did something weirder. He took hold of Rex’s hand as he brought him to the first person. His grip was tight and sweaty and really uncomfortable, but it was Six so Rex was okay with it. The man was standing behind a tree-like woman, who seemed like she was etched on wood, her face in a silent scream.

“P-Please… my wife… You have to…”

Rex cracked his knuckles, threw a smile at Six (that wasn’t returned) before pressing his hand on her. As always the tell-tale lines of nanite blue spread and he told them, come back to me, come back, leave her alone.

She collapsed, all skin and bones once more, the man sobbing over her and Rex didn’t understand, so he said, “You’re welcome?” looking at Six in confusion.

Six didn’t crack so much as a line. Rex sighed. It was going to be a long day.

The first ten were the same. Rex didn’t understand why everyone was crying and smiling. Seemed kind of nuts, if you asked him. Each time he did it, Six relaxed just a bit more.

It all went to hell with the eleventh patient.

He was ten years old, his mother said bitterly, holding down a snarling dog-wolf hybrid EVO, he didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve to be a monster. Rex blinked (monster? EVO?) before reaching out to him, trying to reach for the machines inside the boy’s body.

And they refused him. no, no, never, go away and the backlash sent him flying.

“Rex!” Six yelled, running up to him.

Rex struggled to get on his feet, “L-Let me try again!” Fear, deep aching fear seeped into his voice.

He did. Three times. Nothing. Each time, he got the same answer. Finally, he dropped his hands and Six pulled him away as the mother screamed at him, “You could cure the others! What about my son! What about him?! You’re a monster!”

His head hurt, even when Dr. Holiday came by with a soda can in her hand and a comforting smile on her lips (that hurt too, but she was trying and he liked her, so he smiled back and took the soda while Six hovered in the background).

“I don’t understand,” Rex told Six finally, sitting on his bed in his tiny room, “Why didn’t it work?”

Six hesitated, “You’re still young and you’re just started learning about how to use your powers. Maybe someday you’ll cure her son. Don’t let it get to you.”

How? Rex thought. How do you not let it get to you? What do you do to erase the pain and anger in someone’s eyes when they know their son is never coming home? How do you do that?

“She called me a monster,” Rex said, “But I’m an EVO. Why would she say that?”

“People say things when they’re angry,” (and this Rex did know but didn’t always understand. Why White Knight glared at him from across the screen, why the Providence grunts never shook his hand), “It’s easier to blame someone who’s trying to help than the people actually responsible.”

Rex hugged his legs tightly, “This isn’t over, is it?”

Six’s voice was bland, “No.”

“You’re gonna make me cure more people.”

“Every Friday.”

Rex just nodded, “And…”

“The Incurables will be shipped to a base where they’ll be protected.”

“Until I can cure them.”



Six looked at him. Even with the glasses, Rex can notice this much.

Can I cure them? All of them?” And he hated how his voice shook, hated how badly he was scared of himself right now, scared of the people waiting for him with hungry eyes, scared of what Six might say because Six is a ninja and he doesn’t pull back his punches.

“You will.” Six’s voice held every promise, every certainty in the world. Six was tough, difficult. Six didn’t understand why Rex liked pizza, why Rex wanted to stay close to him, but Six never lied. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, Rex wasn’t sure, but Six never lied to him.

“Worst Friday ever,” Rex muttered.

“I concur,” Six agreed, the faintest of a smile and Rex felt better.

Months later, there will be people Rex cannot cure. A father, a daughter, a son, a relative…. They weigh on the scales of good and bad in his heart. He tried to keep score, but it never worked out because there will always be more EVOs. Six was always there (sometimes to fend off angry people throwing stuff at Rex) but he never flinched, never judged, just stood there silently, like the intimidating hired aggro nanny he was supposed to be.

And every week, Rex would go to bed and tell himself, at least there’s next Friday.

It didn’t make him feel better, but there was hope.

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