1: Beginning

We were not born; we were created. We came from different mothers, but the same father. He took his sperm and genetically modified them before impregnating our mothers. Not genetically modifying like you're probably used to; the crossing of different traits to get desired results.


He cybernetically modified the DNA of the sperm, implanting microscopic, digital DNA into the sperm. We were super beings from the moment the digital sperms fertilized the eggs of our biological mothers. Both women died bringing us into the world. Sometimes we cursed them for not taking us with them. But how could we blame them? They didn't know. They thought they were bringing super heroes into the world. But they couldn't have been more wrong.

They had given birth to the most dangerous weapons in the history of mankind.

Our creator, or "father" as he told us to call him (though he was far from one), named us. The other boy who was born a few minutes after me was named Bruno. Bruno was the name of the first mouse father ever experimented on, so he decided to name the younger of us after it. That, and because the vibe he got from Bruno was a normal, loving one, like that of any other child, and because of that, he was easier to pick a name for. I, however, was a different story.

I didn't cry when I was born. Instead, I emitted a strange, hissing noise. Father claims that whenever I looked at him, it was as if I was glaring at him. So the name he gave me reflected my strangeness. He only used that name for me for the first year of my life, however. He claims that whenever he used it, he would get a chill, and it seemed as though some dark, unknown force was growing closer to him every time he said it. So he invented a nickname for me; Dark Glass, like the color of my eyes. I liked this name. I hated my true name, the name father had given me because he thought I was disturbed. And maybe I am disturbed. In fact, I know I am, and so is Bruno. But father made us this way, because, although we weren't human by DNA, we were still human at heart, but father had lost most of his human feelings, so we were deprived of the love and nurturing all humans need to grow.

Bruno and I both had light grey eyes and dark blue hair. However, I was a few shades darker than Bruno, even in skin color. Bruno's hair was down to his shoulders, but mine was spiked up, like I had been shocked by lightning. People passing by would assume that we were twins, but we weren't. We were sort of half brothers, but not really. However, I treated Bruno as though he was my younger brother, and he treated me as if I was his older brother. We understood each other. No one else did.

When father had engineered the sperm we came from, he focused all his effort on the physical and mental capacity we could hold. He improved us in every way. However, he made one tiny, fatal mistake.

Our emotions.

Bruno cried almost continually, even when nothing was wrong. The women who father hired to raise us couldn't stand him, and often gave up and left him to cry until he exhausted himself and was quiet. As for me, I never cried. I screamed. When I was a baby, I screamed when I wanted something, or if something was wrong, until my demands were met. The women weren't too fond of me either. Thus, Bruno and I were deprived of motherly love, causing our human minds to become unstable and disturbed. All children need love to survive, but no one gave us any. The only love we had was between each other. I loved Bruno and he loved me, and that was enough to keep us going. We relied on each other. No one else cared for us. To father, we were just experiments, lab rats, weapons in the making. He was no father, no matter how much we wanted him to be.

Bruno never broke his crying habit. He cried often, usually several times a day. He could be set off at any little thing, even nothing at all. No one rushed over to ask him what was wrong. No one tried to help. They knew he was disturbed. I found myself being the one to comfort him. However, I too never asked what was wrong. But that was because I knew what was wrong. We never had to explain it to each other, but we both knew we had unexplainable pain inside us. Not physical pain; emotional pain, the pain of being deprived of love, of humanness. When he cried, I hugged him and told him it would be okay while massaging him soothingly, until he would finally quite down, and sometimes even fall asleep. He listened to me. He was calmed by me. And in turn, when I needed him, he was there for me.

Bruno cried, and I screamed. That was how it was. But I was more than that. Just as Bruno had unstable sorrow, I had unstable anger. I had extreme anger problems. I threw tantrums all the time, sometimes for the smallest of things, sometimes for no reason at all, just like Bruno's reasons for crying. It was the pain, the pain of feeling human, but not being human. I screamed. I broke things. I hit people, such as father's servants, assistants, father himself, even Bruno. Most of the time though, if I hit Bruno, I would immediately calm down and throw myself to him, begging for his forgiveness. I always begged his forgiveness. But I didn't always stop immediately upon hurting him. Sometimes I would continue to hit him, call him names, scream at him, tell him things that were totally untrue. Why did I do this? Because I was angry and no one had ever taught me how to control it. So if I couldn't control my anger, my anger controlled me. I couldn't control my actions or what I said; it just happened. And Bruno was almost always by my side, so he was easily targeted. And every little thing I did to hurt him pierced his very soul, and added to his sorrow. And I knew this. So when I would finally come to, I would throw myself around him and beg him to forgive me, and reassure him that I didn't mean any of the things I had said, and that I loved him more than anything else in the whole world. I would tell him over and over, pleading for him to believe me. And he was always quiet, so hurt that he could not even express it, until finally, he would believe me, and then burst into tears.

We were both depressed. Bruno was far worse than I was, because I would let out my emotions, and he would keep his bottled up. (However, for the first ten years of my life, I was given strong medication that was supposed to control my anger, but all it ever did was bottle it up until I exploded, which was usually on or about Bruno. So until then, we were on the same level, bottling up our emotions and then exploding.) He would sometimes go through periods of silence where he wouldn't cry, but just stare blankly, like he had given up on everything. He wouldn't eat, and then later he would cry of stomach pain from hunger, and father wouldn't give in to his "childish ways" and he would go the whole night without food. I always tried to sneak food from the kitchen when this happened though, and I was fairly successful. It always hurt me to see him in such unspoken pain. And whenever Bruno had "episodes," father replied on me to control him. When Bruno was like this, he only ever listened to me. Father was constantly doing tests on us, and if he wanted Bruno to do something, then I had to be the one to convince him to do it. For some reason, father liked experimenting on Bruno more than he did on me. But also, the age of my brain was twice the age of my body, so I was usually given different tests, mostly mental.

Because of my overwhelming anger and fits of violence, Bruno hated any form of aggressiveness. He almost never got angry, especially not with me. But on those rare occasions that he did, I knew it was serious. Or at least, it was serious to him. Sometimes I begged him to forgive me, no matter what it was. Other times, I got angry right back at him. That ended up in disaster though, because it would take hours of my pleading and begging to gain his trust back, his love. I was always the one at fault.

And father? Well, he never cared about how we were feeling. All he cared about were results, programming us to be the ultimate weapons, so that when the imminent battle between humanity and our one true enemy, Yliaster, began, we'd be ready.

Why did we put up with father and his treatment of us? Because we had no one else. No one else could possibly understand us, because we weren't human. We were the only two of our kind, and father was the only one who knew how we worked. If Bruno and I decided to leave, where would we go? What would we even do? We had no other purpose than to learn the ways of Riding Duels, surpass its limits, and defeat Yliaster. We weren't human and we'd never fit in with them. So we stayed with father, but more importantly, we stayed with each other. We had each other. And that was enough.

We were sorrow and anger.