I finally decided to buckle down and work on a 9 prequel. I should warn you though, this will be LONG! It'll start when 1 is created and go until 9 and 5 leave the cathedral to rescue 2. So, yeah, if you're gonna read this story please be patient.
Anyway, this is what I believe happened before 9 showed up. I doubt a lot of it is what Shane Acker had intended but hey, this is just a fanfic so whatev, right? :) Actually, I'm fairly sure it won't since I never watch movie commentaries so, heh, you know. Also, don't expect any references to the Russian dub of 9. I have not seen (nor do I ever intend to see) it so yeah, if something comes up that reminds you of that it'll be purely coincidental. And the Scientist's facebook thing, I've read, like, one little excerpt of 2's creation and that's about it so…yeah. This is all gonna be based off what I know from the film.
Well, sorry for rambling. I hope you enjoy the story.
All hell had broken lose. Yes, that's what this was. It was hell. The world was ending and it was all his fault.
The Scientist had presently taken refuge in an old, beat up house. It was in an area that had already been touched by the war and the buildings were barely standing. He couldn't quite place exactly why he had chosen this particular house but after rummaging through a few house hold belongings, the Scientist recognized this to be the house off his late mother. It had sentimental value, perhaps that's why he chose it.
He had been a part of a project involving a machine that would supposedly create peace within the world. At least that's what the Chancellor had confided in him. He had lied. Not too long after the Scientist had created the Fabrication Machine, the Chancellor's soldiers had ripped him away from his creation and corrupted the mechanism for their own needs. The Chancellor himself was a corrupted man. He was very picky. There was a place on the other side of the world he felt was not suitable for existence. The other side had strange ways, strange people. His true intention was to rid the world of the other side.
But that simply wasn't enough. There were many people on their side of the world he detested. Many ways of life he disapproved of. The Fabrication Machine had created thousands of machines that now wreaked havoc on all four corners of the globe. A month or so after the Chancellor had stolen the Scientist's machine; the newspapers reported that the other side was almost completely wiped out. That was around the time the machines had began to destroy their own country. There were a few news reports on the matter but the Scientist had quite listening to them after a while. The last one he had listened to was the one where the Chancellor had blamed him for everything that was happening (the Scientist recalled it had been the front page story in the papers).
Far off in the distance, the Scientist could hear the blood curdling screams of those who were seemingly fortune to still be alive. He sighed and closed the window. Leaning back in his chair, he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was never going to work, he thought. What if they turned out like his 'great machine' had: easily corrupted.
"Hmm…" the Scientist muttered to himself. The problem could've been that he had chosen a different transfer device from the originally intended one.
Not far back, when the Scientist was no older than 25, he had been in the library reading an old alchemists book. He had come across a section explaining the concept of the spark of life. It was a concept that could only be dreamed of, but the Scientist decided to give it a chance. He had spent most of his nights with the book, reading and rereading it and then finally attempting to create the machinery necessary for accomplishing such a feat. He had told a few close personal friends about his project but otherwise kept it to himself. After a while, the library had finally told him enough was enough and he would have to stop renewing the book and give it back to the library. It was alright though; the Scientist had copied everything down in his notebook.
One of his friends had let slip of his project to a military buddy he had been spending lunch with. The soldier had proceeded to informing the Chancellor. Before he knew it, the Scientist was on the phone with one of the most admired military leaders of all time.
The Chancellor spoke of a machine. He had seen it in a dream, he said. It would be a machine that would create new machines in it's own image. These machines would bring peace and prosperity to the world. The Scientist's project would be of help in creating such a magnificent device. This was a great honor, thought the Scientist.
A few years had already passed since the Scientist had actually started the project and he had been tinkering with something: the actual transferring device in which he would give his creations his soul. He had created the original one from the picture in the alchemy book, but he hoped to make something that would make the transition simpler. Maybe if he sent his life force through his brain…The Scientist figured if the creation was given his intelligence, it would be more efficient.
The first time he tested this procedure was the day he was to give the Fabrication Machine life. He still remembered the overwhelming joy that flooded through him as the machine's eye glowed. Carefully, he reached out and extracted the talisman from the machine, stowing it away in his pocket.
Now he took the same device out of his pocket and held it in his palm. The memory of when he first created this thing came flooding back to him. He had typed in the combination that was supposed to open it. The symbols imprinted upon it glowed an eerie green and something sparked. A bright green light had lashed out at him. Frightened, the Scientist covered the device and quickly tossed it to the side. When it hit the wall, it opened. Shaking violently, the Scientist reached down and carefully closed the device, praying to God that he had not damaged it.
"Idiot!" he had told himself.
No, he thought now. No, he wasn't an idiot. He had created this device hadn't he? He was the one who created the machine. Although that was hardly something he wanted to feel accomplished about. It was the very reason he had become the enemy of the state. But that-that was the Chancellor's fault. He had been the one who had asked the Scientist to create the machine. It was that wretched man who had corrupted the very machine that was said to be used for peace. If anything it was his fault, not the Scientist's.
The Scientist had good intentions. He had nothing to be ashamed of. After all, it was because of him that life would continue on after all humanity had died out.
He sighed bitterly and turned to face his new creation. 1, he had rightfully named the little rag doll, hung from a thin rope. It was a crude little thing. The Scientist had thrown 1 together rather quickly. He was a bit more concerned about whether or not he could awaken the creature rather than how he looked. Besides, he hadn't really sewn much in the past. He had picked up a thing or two from his mother patching up his pants in his earlier years but…
Taking in a deep breath, the Scientist fitted the talisman into the transfer device and readied himself as it activated. That familiar green light exploded in his face. This time, the Scientist didn't retract, but oh, how it hurt. He felt as if he was losing his breath as his soul transferred into 1. He knew he wouldn't possibly die from this; the talisman had been created to extract only so much of the soul. It wouldn't nearly be enough to kill him, he hoped.
When the soul extraction had stopped, the Scientist gasped for air. He gripped his heart which was pounding rapidly in his chest. He looked up. His vision was blurred. He rubbed his eyes and looked at one. As the image of the rag doll became clearer, the Scientist noticed that 1 did not stir.
Reaching out, the Scientist removed the plug from 1's interior and proceeded to untying the creature. He held the doll in his hand for a moment and waited. Still, 1 did not move. The Scientist closed 1 up using on of the buckles on his skin. 1 remained still.
Devastated, the Scientist dropped 1 on the table with a thud. He had failed.
The Scientist flinched. 1 pushed himself upright. He rubbed his head, pushing back the collection of fabric perched atop his head. The Scientist froze in shock as 1 began to stand himself up. He stumbled a little bit and almost fell down again. He dropped to the table in a frog-like position before pushing himself back up again. Momentarily, 1 seemed rather intrigued by his hands. They weren't very nice looking and 1 frowned.
"Hmm…" the creation muttered.
The Scientist was amazed. Firstly because the voice box actually worked (he had been most worried about that). Secondly, the look in 1's eyes. He was there. He was really there. Living. Practically a human being.
"I did it," he whispered.
1 had heard this and turned to face the source of the sound. Surprised by the Scientist's size, 1 jumped and fell on his rear end.
"Oh, sorry," the Scientist apologized in a low voice.
He reached out to help 1, but the rag doll pushed his creator's hand aside. "N-no. Ge-get away…!" 1 said shakily.
"It's alright," the Scientist tried to comfort 1, but this little guy was stubborn.
1 inched away from the Scientist as he reached out to assist. Finally, 1 stood up. He stumbled a little as he began to run away.
"Wait! Stop! I'm not going to hurt you!" the Scientist pleaded.
"Get away! No!" 1 cried as he dodged the Scientist's hands. He refused to let this-this-monster touch him.
He proceeded to jumping off the back of the table.
"1!" the Scientist cried as the rag doll disappeared.
He knelt down and tried to make out where 1 was. He grabbed the candle on his desk and used it to shed light underneath his desk. He could see the bottom of the bookcase behind the desk and a few dust bunnies here and there but his creation was nowhere to be seen.
Somehow 1 had managed to escape.