Title: Scarred For Life 1/4 - Lost
Characters: Shatterstar and Rictor
Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Angst
Rated: R for sexual references, language, and violence
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters used in this story
Summary: Life on Earth is a complex thing and societal norm for a warrior born is something difficult to adjust to. Can someone who was born and bred to hate and kill open up his heart? Scars aren’t so easily removed, and one wrong move can turn an entire world upside down.
It is primal fear.
All my life I saw things that normally elicit a horrified response from normal Earth people; blood, organs, mutilation, trauma, cannibalism, rape, and death. They are normal everyday things on Mojoworld. Screams are about as common as cars honking on street corners, and dogs barking in backyards. It was my life -- everything that I ever knew.
And here that is all wrong.
I did not know fear until I came to this place. Humans do not hunt others to survive, nor do they experience such events as I have. The things that I seen as a twelve year old child will never equal to the things even a human veteran tactical soldier sees. From the start of my life I was brutalized. I was tortured and starved and expected to fend for myself. There were no mothers and fathers to comfort me when I cried, no friends to lean on for help, and there was no going easy because I was young. I was a sheep thrusted into a pit of wolves and I would either be strong enough to survive, or I would not.
Most of those wolves ended up on the tip of my sword.
I killed my first victim when I was seven years old. My second kill came two hours later, and my third six. From that day forward it was a body count, and the more I accumulated the more respected I was. The more feared I was. Never to be blinded by trust or friendship. Shatterstar was the only person Gaveedra-7 was allowed to trust -- the only person I relied on.
And Shatterstar was who Gaveedra-7 became. The performer. The gladiator. The murderer. I was the most expensive piece of property that Mojo V owned. Not any of Arize’s biped creations even come close to me -- not in looks, not in skill, and not in determination.
I was a champion, and the Mojoworlders loved me for it. I am so flashy and so in sync with myself that every kill looks clean and artistic enough for entertainment. The pictures on their walls bared my face, and their bets claimed my name. What was their source of fun was my own personal hell -- my struggle to live.
And everyday that I walked out into the arena and saw their screaming faces I had flashes in my mind of killing them all. They laughed when I was stabbed or shot, and when they did I wanted to do it right back to them. An eye for an eye, or so they say. Great pleasure would have been taken in destroying their homes and lives so they could for one day experience life in my boots.
But they would not, for no normal life was ever like mine and the Spineless ones made sure of it.
I am a biped; bioengineered to take on human form for the sole purpose of being their slave. Many moons before my generation Earth humans caused mass hysteria and insanity. Mojoworld was in ruins, and the cowards left with nothing. The creator, Arize, was instructed to use his knowledge to engineer those like me -- like my ancestor, Longshot. To take on the form and movement of those who had destroyed everything the Spineless ones knew. As their form of revenge and nonsensical entertainment they humiliated the biped slaves. Put them in silly television shows and dangerous movies.
That was well before my time.
Entertainment turned to war, and the killing of many bipeds fueled the vengeful lust of the Spineless ones. Inside the arenas we fought to the death, and back in the pens it was a whole other hell. I slept little. The slaves had to be cautious at all times because the guards came round during sleep. Some were killed at night, and others sexually mutilated and abused for pleasure purposes. Women were used as genetic material and then disposed of. Children were trained to fight. Men -- me at age fourteen -- killed or were killed.
And the Earthlings complain that they have it so hard. A bad life to them is little possessions. To humans, low income and sickness are considered hell. I came to this place and all I see is greed and selfishness. All that matters is their own personal gain.
And yet, something conflicted inside of me wants it to be that easy for me. I am a warrior -- I fight for honor and turn up my nose to an unworthy opponent -- and yet these lowly humans make me feel. Emotions of happiness and affection began to brew inside and they were never supposed to be there. These emotions threaten everything that I am, and everything I grew to know.
Emotions led me to this.
He never looks away. Even in my sleep his brown eyes are on me, penetrating me, and they are never afraid. Beings of all species are supposed to fear me, it is what I am meant to be -- my very existence -- and he throws all of that out the window. To him I am something else. I am not Shatterstar, only by name perhaps, but I am a friend. I am someone that he trusts, someone he confides in. Someone that he loves.
And he never looks away. Julio Richter has this pull on me of sorts that makes me forget that I am a killing machine and I can even be human. I look the part, and he figures I can act it too. So many emotional traumas and tribulations he has suffered himself, and even though he sometimes left my side to sort out his life, he always came back. Julio has a fierce determination to fight his own battles and demons -- much like me -- and never asks for my help. I would give him my left arm if he needed it, but he is not one for biting his pride and requesting it.
Which is why he would venture off. Sometimes he left for just a day or two, and sometimes weeks. One time, he left me for many months. It was then that I realized what he had turned me into. I was never bitter because of his leaving, but it confused me. He is not only brave enough to look me in the face without fear or intimidation, but he is also brave enough to force me into feeling for him -- and that is something that no soul has ever been able to accomplish.
I hold a true respect for Julio because of it. He is a true warrior that follows his heart no matter what, and he is brave enough to do the one thing that I can never ever do -- and that is wear his heart on his sleeve. Julio is so human that it baffles me. Anger, rage, sadness, despair, happiness, silliness -- he is all of those things, and he is all of those things to me while others poke fun or turn a cold shoulder. He has a faith in me that is so strong it is almost tragic.
But if there is one thing that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth it is that he is able to tear down my walls so effortlessly and endanger everything I know about myself. My familiarity and control are the two things that I have always relied on. I trusted them and they allowed me to survive on this despicable planet -- but Rictor took them away. And no matter what I can not help but trust him, and follow him, and feel for him.
If it wasn’t so contradictory, I would hate him for it.
But I do not and I cannot no matter how much I want to. I ache when he hurts and I long for him when he is gone. My body and my mind have betrayed me. My brain tells me to run and hide from him and never give in. But my heart and soul will not.
What have I become?
The answer was nearly clear to me, but my death had sealed it. I was placed into a human body -- one that feels and functions like a human, and not at all like a gladiator.
And it was the fact that these human emotions and Julio ate away at me that got me into this mess. I sit and I think about everything from the day that I arrived up until this very moment, and I am nearly ashamed. I have lost control and my fall from grace has not been an honorable one. An honorable warrior dedicates their life to the cause and never allows any sort of distraction. Honorable warriors do not allow others to interfere. Warriors do not fail at their very existence.
An honorable soldier would not be here right now sitting where I am -- and ready to do what I am going to do.
Julio Richter broke me. My defenses were torn down the moment he pressed his lips against mine and confessed his love. My world shattered and I know from this day on that things will never be the same. And for the very last time my body won the fight over my mind and I kissed him right back. I did the one thing I swore to myself that I would never, ever do. I wanted much more then I could have, and I took it anyways.
He made me feel that primal fear. I was more scared than I ever felt in my entire life, and it dawned on me that it was the same way that I made people feel. For all the horrible deeds I have ever done and all the anguish and damage I have caused, it is coming back to haunt me. I was raw and exposed and naked before the one person in the entire universe who has the ability to destroy me from the inside out.
And I am almost sure that he would whether intentionally or not.
He offered me his hand and his trust. Exposed himself in a way he said he had never done. Pressed himself against me and mumbled my name before pushing me down onto the bed in our hotel room. I could not stop the arousal I felt -- not from the way he kissed me, or the way he touched me…or from the way he begged me to have sex with him. I had obeyed every command with an embarrassing, uncontrollable lust. I had no grasp on anything, and no matter how beautiful he looked writhing under me and moaning my name, I knew it was not right.
I can never return his love; not the way he needs me to.
And I have sat up all night. Sitting on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands wondering how it all ever got this bad. When I had become such a failure. My purpose in life has diminished. I am nothing but a joke of the person I used to be.
“'Star?” he rolls over sleepily. “What are you doing?
I cannot even look at him. “I’m just sitting here, Julio.”
“Aren’t you tired?” he yawns, sounding a lot happier than I figure he should be.
“No,” I told him. “I cannot and will not sleep.”
“Uh, okay. Why?”
I clench my jaw and bite back my response; it would hurt him unnecessarily if I were to tell him. “I’m thinking.”
And then he runs his hand up my back intimately - lovingly. The feeling I get from it sickens me, and I want to turn around and grab him. Toss him away. But I do not, and he continues to do it. “Are you okay? Ya need to talk, amigo?”
“I am leaving.”
“Uh…okay,” he chuckles and traces a line on my side. “Hungry or something?”
“No,” I tell him, but it comes out like a whisper. “I’m leaving this place. I cannot do this, Julio.”
And still I am too cowardly to even look at him. “This sort of thing is not in my nature. This is not who I am supposed to be and I cannot put myself in further jeopardy with you. You do not understand how this conflicts me.”
“'Star…” he trails off, and I can hear the hurt in his voice. “I told you, amigo. You and me…we’ll work on it together, okay? It’s not that hard…”
“But it is!” I shout and clench my fists in the blankets. “I am not supposed to like you! I am supposed to kill you! Why are you doing this to me?”
He sits up then and grabs me by the shoulder, roughly pulling on me to face him. I turn, but I cannot look. A hand flies up and grabs me by the chin, and he forces me to stare into those eyes. He never looks away. “I’m not doing anything to you.”
“No, you listen to me! I didn’t force you to do a damn thing, 'Star. You did it! You! All by yourself. You coulda said no and fucked up my shit, but you didn’t.” He’s very angry; I can tell by the wild, wet look in his eyes. “And if you turn around and walk out on me that just proves how much of an ass you are. Coward.”
I nod. “That ‘ass’ is the real me. I cannot do this, you would not understand.”
“Yeah? Try me!” he yells. “The only people I’ve ever loved fucked me over, you know. Hurt me, lied, died, disappeared, fucked off…all I have is you! I thought I could trust you.”
“Guess you were wrong,” I mutter, not wanting to say it but I do anyways.
“You’re seriously going to leave?” his voice cracks.
“I have no choice,” I declare. “I can’t do this with you; I will only hurt you in the end and I am unwilling to do that for whatever reason.”
He glares angrily. “Maybe it’s ‘cause you care.”
“Yes, I do,” I agree. “But I shouldn’t.”
“Why!?” he demands, a hint of begging in his voice. “If you can’t then why the hell did you sleep with me tonight? Why go through the trouble?”
“I don’t know!” I practically scream in his face. “You are turning me into something I do not like! I have no control over anything! I cannot stand it!” I jump to my feet and throw the lamp off the table next to the bed. “I cannot…I do not…”
“It’s normal,” he tells me.
“I am not normal,” my shoulders slump. “I do not know this, Rictor. I do not know me like this.”
“Why not just give it a chance?!” he begs. “I can help you! Please…I love you.”
And a massive weight feels as though it crushes my chest when he says it. Why does he do this to me? How does he do it? How can he control me like this when I cannot even control myself anymore? “You cannot help me, Julio, when you are making it worse.”
His jaw drops in shock. “Worse? 'Star…I’m your friend!”
“And if you were my friend like you so claim, then maybe you would understand,” I whisper, tearing my eyes away from his face. “All I know is hate and anger -- I do not know this love. I cannot understand it…”
“You aren’t supposed to understand it,” he snaps. “You just feel it, and that’s the way it is.”
And I know what he is talking about because it is what I feel. But such a shame and fear paralyzes me from ever admitting it. A weak warrior I have become. “I…Julio, please. Do not force me to do this. I cannot. I will hurt you. I like to hurt people.”
“You do not!” it is his turn to scream now. “That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it! It’s just an excuse, and Dios if you don’t like me then just say it! Don’t sugar coat it, cabron.”
My heart is telling me he is right, but my mind says no. “You have made my life on Earth so interesting and enjoyable, Julio. But I think you are forgetting why I am here in the first place.”
“To be Cable’s bitch?” he growls, anger overpowers his tone but it only hides the sadness.
“No,” I shake my head. “I am a warrior, born and bred.”
“You’ve come so far since that,” he mutters. “I know you better than anyone else, amigo. You did this last time too -- at the club! It’s all right to be afraid sometimes, you know.” He reaches out a hand and grabs my elbow. “Don’t leave me. We can make it work.”
I swallow the unfamiliar growing lump in my throat. “Will you…do me a favor?”
“Anything in the world,” he promises.
“Let me go.”
“Why?” he croaks.
“Just allow me to go and figure it out, Julio. Just for a little while.” I turn and look at him once more and sigh. “Like those trips back to
“I’m afraid for you,” he admits.
“And you have no reason to be,” I tell him.
“Will I ever even see you again? Or are you just gonna bail on me like every other fucker in my life?”
I drop his hand and step away. “You will. If you do this for me -- this favor -- I will return it by seeing you again. I just need some space to figure it out. Everything is so new, and…”
“Si,” he whispers and drops back down to the bed. “Whatever, amigo. I get it.”
I reach into the drawer of the night table and tear the first page out of the bible in there. On the paper I scribble down a number. “There is my cell, in case you forget.”
“I never would.”
And the crushing feeling returns. “Good bye, Julio.”