premade profile by Chen

ONE for the money

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xxx - by Monologue
xxx - by odduckOasis

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The war was raging.

The planes swept overheads day and night, the never ending roar of their flight becoming something so everyday that it no longer bothered the people. The sea, the sky, the land; everything was a battleground. The radios spoke of nothing but the war, this Third World War, this Third Division.

The war had persisted tirelessly for two years when he was born. His 'team' named him One, his three predecessors prototypes that had failed to survive. His 'mother' named him Drew.

Trained every day by an elite group, his sole purpose was to fight in the war. The usage of the newly developed 'medicine,' when administered to an unborn child has the ability to grant him extraordinary physical abilities. Increased speed, longer endurance, greater strength... at the same time, it develops the mind, giving a child who should have been by all means a simple toddler the abilities to make mature reasonings of those more than ten times his age.

He remembers clearly how an array of weapons were placed before his three-year old self. 'Pick one,' he was prompted, and he had gone for the set of daggers, since they were the closest to him. After relentless training, though, the awkward way he held the thin blades turned into fluid grace, the obvious movements he had before when preparing to attack turned into blurs because he was so fast. A shift of his wrist brought his knives into new positions, ready for whatever task he was to put them to.

As the leader of his group, he's gotten into the habit of carrying little things around with him because he just knows Six is going to want to eat and he's going to whine when he can't find one of those tasteless food bar on his person, and he knows Four is going to become paranoid that there aren't any medical equipment among the seventeen of them, and he knows Thirteen is going to get violent when he loses the little piece of string that he enjoys playing string games on. It's better to be prepared than to have to clean up bloody messes from unnecessary fights.

Every day was the same: eat, sleep, fight, kill, repeat. Somewhere deep inside of him he wishes that Sixteen and Seventeen didn't have to do the same things as the rest of them did, for the two were not even five. But it can't be helped. They run, they fight, they kill, and when they have time, they eat and they sleep, guarding each others' backs jealously because no one else will.

"Hey, One," Three drawls out as she sits up right outside their makeshift shelter, hidden within the warped steel beams of a destroyed city. Her pale eyes look quietly up at his red ones, and after a few moments Two shifts as well, brilliant emerald meeting bloody ruby.

"What?" he asks, twirling one of his blades casually around in his hand.

"Just wanted to see if you were still there."

All three were silent, staring out at the ruined city. Finally, he sighed, standing up and stowing the knife away. "I've changed my mind. Only the three of us are needed for tonight." Two grins, the boy had thought it might come to this, and Three jumps gracefully up, almost purring like a cat.

The war was raging.

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