Disclaimer: Cyborg 009 does not belong to me. It belongs to... yikes! It's been such a long time, that I've forgotten --;

"When you wish upon a shooting star…"

"…All your wishes may come true…"

A continuation of Cyborg 009


"Alright, alright! Everyone pay attention. Mr. Smith tells us that America had nothing to do with the beginning of all the attacks… Monsieur Le Blanch has already comprehensively explained how is it that France is only a victim in all this mess… Don Vitorino claims that none of this ever had anything to do with any Italian forces… Mitsumoto-san defends fierce fully the innocence of the Japanese troops…"

A man's voice was almost lost in all the noise that fulfilled the room. Hundreds of country diplomats were together, sitting at a curiously round table, discussing the current state of the world.

"Indeed, Mr. O'Meara. Britain has nothing to do either"

"Russia has only worked for the progress of human kind"

"China never thought of such things, I assure!"

The man rubbed his forehead, tiredly. All day he had listened to everyone claiming their innocence. Or what could be the same, he had listened to every diplomatic accusing the others. So there was no guilty one, or they were all guilty. He couldn't understand. He couldn't understand anything at all. He couldn't figure out – as much as he tried – how the world had turned upside down in so little time. He sighed, breathed, and regretted ever accepting the job in the first place… Well, how could he have known that he would have to face World War III?

"Señor O'Meara, we are getting nowhere just talking like this. I suggest that an extensive research is made in all the most powerful countries in order to discover the source of the altercation"

"That's not fair, Senior Menéndez! You suppose that America or France should just stop defending them selves to help a consensus to prove our so claimed innocence? We should begin with Cuba, then, since it has always been known for unscrupulous actions"

"That's NOT true!"

"Sirs, please!!" O'Meara was getting tired and more tired with each running second "We should all discuss the affair in order to find a proper solution! Each nation is only looking for its best, it's true, we understand, but we all have to be able to search for the greater good… is it clear?"

Hundreds of monotone expressions were his answer. Breathing again, we was about to resume his almost failed speech when the door to the immense room opened.

"Mister O'Meara?"

"Higgins, what is it that you want right now?" he had lost his patience days ago, when the so-called 'negotiations' started "Don't you see it's an improper time for any interruptions?" He had stood up from his place, and approached the youngster by the door. Chit-chatter could be heard across the room.

"Yes, I know, but…"

"What is it, Higgins, that could be so important?"

"Mister O'Meara, sir, there is a group of people outside that wants to talk with all of you… They say they know the identity of the true culprit and that are willing to help solve the affairs…"

The older man's eyes turned wide open. A minute passed before he blinked again.

"What?! Is that true, Higgins? But how can you know if they're saying the truth and are not just a bunch of fanatics?"

"Sir… they're not… Normal people… they're different"

"What, again?"

"I thought you all might be interested… You said yesterday, sir, how you were dying to find a way out of all of this… how you expected a miracle…"

O'Meara blinked again. He stared at the youngster's eyes, filled with hope. Quality he lacked.

He sighed, for the twentieth time that day, and nodded to his subordinate.

"Take me to them, Higgins… and they better know what the say… otherwise…"

"Yes, sir. Right away. Follow me"


(Omens of a) Battlefield--------------------


"What do you think will happen now?"

"We'll just have to wait"

"We can't do anything until they let us through"

"And even so, we don't even know if they'll listen to us"

"Sure. Six cyborgs –and they will have to process that for about an hour- come and warn them about a secret organization –supposedly non-existent- that has endangered the whole world by selling ultimate artillery to all of the countries –and then they'll deny ever acquiring said weaponry- and launching them all over so that World War III ensues. On top of that, they come with no solid proof to justify such story. No, of course they'll listen to us. Thing is, will they believe us?"

"004, you don't have to be so crude"

"I'm just telling you, we have to be prepared for that"

"But the world is at such risk…"

"Humans tend to be closed and stubborn especially in times of danger"

"In the end, they want an excuse to begin the fight. They want to blame someone else so they can bomb it and destroy their civilization"


"It's what I know 003; politicians are self-centered, ambitious and heartless. They want the best for themselves, honor and glory; and they don't care what gets it their way. They'll just do everything it takes to accomplish their selfish goals."


"Hey, cut it out already. We're the only lead they'll ever have. We'll go and explain and we will see what happens next"

"For now, we just wait"

Déjà vu

O'Meara walked through the halls at a fast pace. His face obviously relieved but also intrigued, and somewhat disturbed. This sounded like some prank or joke, whatever; anything but the truth. Although, what would be the point in doing so? Make him lose his time? That's why he was so intrigued; maybe this was the option he was secretly expecting for.

Walking across hundreds of doors, seconds seemed to pass ever so slowly. His assistant leading him, in front of him, notoriously excited about the mysterious visitors.

Finally, after what seemed to him like ages, he reached the doors to the crimson room. Joshua Higgins opened it and behind it, six eccentric persons were sitting patiently, each one staring at different parts of the room.

He didn't know where to begin with.

The tallest, and biggest, one of them looked at him carefully. He was the scariest one, with reason, his proportions were much pronounced than anybody else's; but also the one with the kindest eyes.

Another one, with a cold look and a grim smile, walked towards him. The rest stayed put.

Higgins introduced.

"Mister O'Meara, from the committee board"

He extended his hand politely, not less astonished by such group of people. A cold, metal hand received his, and he jumped back, in shock.

The man smirked.

"I shall make things easier for you, Mr. O'Meara. The current state of the world is caused by a depraved secret organization called Black Ghost, which excelled at creation of specialized weaponry, Said organization is the one that has sold all kind of unimaginable arms to each and all of the countries and set them on fire not long ago, thus creating chaos and fear. Supposedly, we have already taken care of the heads of Black Ghost, although we cannot be 100 sure of that, since we thought we defeated it so many times… Well, the only proof we can give you of what we are saying is ourselves, since we were experiments of the same organization. Mr. O'Meara, we are cyborgs."

Joshua gasped after a couple of seconds, amazed; his eyes shining with excitement.

He stared at each one of the… Persons? Things? What did he said they were? He stared, blinking and processing. Okay, this had to be a malicious kind of prank. There was no way that…

He lost all sense of the real world when the only lady of the group, and a mystifying lady for that, raised her gaze and her aquamarine eyes locked with his own.

"Please, let us tell our story and explain what we know… The world is… and everybody is…"

A strong hand placed in her shoulder.

"There are evil forces in this world, sir. All of us can testify it with our lives, with what we are. The world is our only concern"

"We are here only because we care"

O'Meara nodded solemnly and leaded the group of… people, outside the room telling them they would go to a more private one. He signaled Joshua to guide them as he felt his feet like lead for just a second. He breathed; what the heck was he doing right now?! It was ridiculous. More and more as he reviewed what they had told him. Cyborgs? Did such creatures exist in this world?

We do exist, Mr. O'Meara. We're just as real as you are.

Blinking, he checked around him to see if there were any intruders in the hallway. There was no one. Of course, it was impossible that he was being spied or something, and besides, that had sounded as if coming from within his mind.

Give us a chance. You will not regret it.

He looked around, again, suspiciously. Not one single soul. He rubbed his temples, acknowledging this bizarre predicament to his shattered nerves and his ever-growing stress. Nonetheless, he found himself following the steps Higgins and the others had taken. Maybe it was because he just wanted a break from the 'civilized' people; maybe because he just wanted to hear whet they had to say. Maybe it was because he did have, if just a little, faith in this decadent world and maybe –just maybe- it was because he thought miracles could happen.

Fate & faith

The rain had stopped, but the air was still full with humidity. The two old men were playing quietly in the living room, none of them actually concentrated in whatever the game was. Isaac Gilmore couldn't stop thinking in 'his children' even though he had told himself not to do so. It was their duty, it was for the sake of the world; but why, oh why, did this have to happen to them all the time? He couldn't let that go. The world seemed destined to go against them, all the time, forcing them to prove themselves worthy of living. His heart ached a little bit too much and his mind was blurred with concern over all of his 9 beloved 'creatures'. Over two of them especially. He should be with them at that moment, but his good old friend wouldn't let him. He said that none good would come from him torturing himself 24/7 thinking of ways non-existent of saving them. And that's what hurt the most, to think that there was no possible way for him to really help them. He wouldn't give up, no, but that thought was killing him. Slowly and painfully.

Kazuo Kezumi moved a black piece after minutes of no movement in the room. He was not even sure if it was a winning or losing strategy he was leading, but for once, he just couldn't get rid of the overwhelming thoughts consuming his mind. He lifted his gaze towards his friend and saw his troubled expression. He knew nothing could calm him, especially not after just hours of them leaving, but it wouldn't hurt trying.

Hurt; did he even know the true meaning of that word? His comrade sure did, with all of what they had been going through since what seemed a long, long, time ago.

Several seconds passed, and there was no reaction from his companion. He pondered it for a moment if it was more proper to interrupt his thoughts or to let him continue. Then he decided that there was no right –or wrong- answer for that.

Luckily, he didn't have to choose what to do either because there was suddenly a new voice in the house that broke the deafening silence that had been ruling.

"Dr. Kezumi, I'm back!"

A young, brunette girl, of brownish eyes and pale skin closed the door quietly. She removed her coat, and left it at the door's hanger and then proceeded to remove her shoes and wear her slippers, hidden behind a small table. She looked around, surprised by the lack of movement –and sound- inside the residence, and began searching for her tutor.

"Dr. Kezu...mi?"

Dr. Gilmore lost all trace of thought the moment he saw the girl. His eyes went from her to Kezumi, and back again. She did a little reverence towards the old men and approached the table.

"Excuse me, I didn't know you had company, dr."

"No, do not worry at all, child. Gilmore, meet my partner in the project I'm currently working: Katherine Holmes. Katherine, this is one of my best friends and comrades of all my life, Dr. Isaac Gilmore"

The mentioned man stood up and offered a hand to the smiling female.

"Oh, Dr. Gilmore! I've heard so much about you. It is an honor to meet you, sir"

"Honor is mine, Ms Holmes. You must be quite talented for Kazuo to have hired you!"

"I was very lucky, sir. And I do try to do my best"

"Oh, child, you are one of the best chemists I've ever worked with."

Katherine blushed a bit and nodded modestly

"Thank you, Dr. Kezumi. I brought the elements you needed, should I take them to the lab, or…"

"Ah, see… Katherine, we need to talk about that. Isaac, why don't you help me telling her the whole situation?"

"Oh… of course"

The three of them sat down in the largest sofa of the living room, the girl watching the old men with curious eyes. She had not ignored the worried and tired look of both men, but she had thought it would've been rude to mention it or to ask anything about it. But as they sat next to her, she grew worrier; after all, Kazuo Kezumi had always been a cheerful man.

"Sir, what- what's happening?"

"Katherine, well…"

Kezumi was not able of answer her question because an alarm sounded immediately, turning any conversation impossible. Gilmore and him stood up immediately, looked at each other, and Gilmore rushed out of the room without saying a word. Kezumi looked at the puzzled girl with a small –forced- smile.

"I am very sorry, dear, but we'll have to tell you the situation later. Please, go to your room and rest. I'm sure you are extremely tired after driving such a long way to-"

"Oh, yes, but, sir, if I can be of any help…"

"Then I'll be sure to let you know. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

And with that, he left the room, in the same direction Gilmore had. Katherine stood standing, looking at particularly nothing in the room, surprised, no, shocked.

Something was wrong, very wrong. But, what could it be?



Both doctors were surprised when they saw the little baby floating above the bodies of the two 'sleeping' cyborgs.

He was looking carefully to both of them, examining something in particular.

"Ivan, what-?"

Gilmore advanced a step, and stopped. He felt it was wrong to disturb the child, and signaled his partner not to do so either, silently. He just approached the electro-machine connected to the teenagers, and turned off the alarm that had brought them.

It seemed that there had been some reaction with Joe, all of a sudden.

Little Ivan lowered himself a little, floating now over the last of the zero-zero units. He stayed there for a long time, and then turned to the other one. And his expression turned to a troubled one. He reached a little finger to Jet's forehead and then a great psychic force drowned the whole laboratory. Gilmore and Kezumi had to gather great strength not to fell over, and decided to sit at nearby chairs in case that happened again.

Jet… Jet…

Can you hear me, Jet?

It was as if the lights had turned on after a month of blackout. The airborne cyborg lifted his head, seeing a tiny, minuscule, blink of light in the distance.

"001?! 001, is that you?"

The time has come Jet. We cannot wait anymore. It seems – there is no other choice.

"001? What are you talking about? Are you going to take me out of here?!"

I am… so sorry but this is the only way I can help you.

"What are you talking about? You are going to take me away, then?"

There was no response for what seemed an eternity. Jet, his weak spirit, was going impatient; the emptiness of his surroundings consuming him, tiring him… Making him want to give up.

Finally, he heard the child's 'voice' once again. It sounded as if it was breaking…

Jet, listen to me. I want you to let go of everything you remember.

"Let go?"


"What do you mean?"

Again, the response sounded hurt, and crushed.

I want you to give away all your memories, everything, and think of nothing. Nothing at all.

"What… why?!"

It's the only way. The memories are taking you down, are tying you to the past and what you had.

If you want to live, you must let that go.

Realization finally hit him. His eyes got watery and his hands closed like fists, but he didn't say anything. He, after all, wanted to live.

"I… I understand… Tell me what to do"

Think of everything that has happened, and then… release it from your mind. Just, empty your mind of all thoughts.

He closed his eyes, he embraced this nothingness. He felt as if that voice that had been haunting him was delighting itself with his state. He had to let go… everything he knew, everything he remembered.

It was that, or death. Or worse, it was falling into oblivion.

He began remembering his childhood… His teenage years. Black Ghost. Waking up and finding out what he had become. Meeting his cyborg comrades.

Tears began flowing down his cheeks without him noticing. He couldn't have cared if he did, because it was all his life running through his mind and suddenly flowing out of him.

His mind went blank, and he started feeling lighter. Blinding brightness surrounding him, his whole being becoming nothing.

And then…

A/N: I was checking my account this week and then went through my writing files and found out that I had written this and I had completely forgotten. It seems that it is not yet complete, but it was long enough for a somewhat acceptable update (since seeing this nearly 'abandoned' kills me in every way possible).

I guess it's just a minuscule proof that, like I said once, I am going to finish all my stories, even if it takes me a lifetime to do so overdramatic

Oh, and of course, your critics will be appreciated now more than ever, since it has been a while of not thinking as these characters. Tell me what OOC-ness you found in this. And I do remember that writing that ONU scene was incredibly difficult to write, so any comment about that too, would be great.

And thank you very much to all of you who read this, even after all this long (very long) time.