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hungarianrhapsodyof1986 · 5 years

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I am Number 39 (Hardzzello fic based on an AU I made)

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Before the Citadel came into being, there was a war so great it tore apart each nation with the uncontrollable power of fear and pride. Countries big and small in size engaged in conflicts against one another; innocent souls of men, women and children claimed all too early as the violence that spread like a disease consumed the entire world. Thousands died everyday, and it seemed there would be no end to this war; a war greater and more dire than the first two... until the Forefathers came with their promise of a paradise for those who wished it.

Tired of the fighting and the unbearable pain, the people of the Old Earth accepted the Forefathers’ offer of Utopia. In exchange however of that great blessing, microchips were embedded in the people’s bodies - through a simple and noninvasive manoeuvre, really - and they, as promised, took away the pain of... everything. The remaining few; imbeciles, as I like to call them, refused and were forced to stay outside the Citadel. They now remain in Outside; nothing but an absolute wreckage of the world that used to be.

All that happened 263 years ago.

Now, we have a fully organised community with people (now known as Residents) who live in proper houses, have jobs just suited for them, Partners that match them perfectly and enough nutritious food and drink. Not forgetting, of course, the Academy where everyone has the opportunity to be educated formally.

Seriously, who wouldn’t want that?

The Youth can grow to become Scientists who make scientific breakthroughs that further improve the state of the Citadel. They can become Matchmakers in charge of Matching two Residents together. They can also become Agriculturists trained in the art of agriculture. Deliverers who deliver Morning and Evening Meals to their Assigned Residency, too. Or they could become Builders who build new Residencies. Manufacturers who craft devices and microchips, Nurses who care for the Newborns or -

“For the Job Assignment of Sentinel we have...” call the mighty members of the Sovranty in unison.

Yes, Sentinels.

Sentinels are the ones Assigned to protect Residents from threats to the community such as Abductors from Outside. Ever since the beginning of the Citadel, the Outsiders have been finding ways to take away what has been built by our Forefathers. Out of spite or out of jealousy, I don’t know, but what matters is that our Sentinels are there to protect us from those threats.

There are two types of Sentinels: Inner and Active. Inner Sentinels guard the Citadel from inside, doing their best to capture Abductors. Active Sentinels are sent to Outside where they discover the plans of the Outsiders and prevent attacks from occurring in the Citadel.

“Number 35, Inner. Number 24, Inner. Number 16, Active. Number 28, Inner. Number 30, Inner... and Number 39...”

I perk up when Number 39 is called, because that’s me.

I’m Number 39.

“Active Sentinel.”

Me, Number 39, Active Sentinel. It’s... amusing, actually. I know I did well during my Placement Examination, but I never expected this. I am but seven years old, and I know it’ll be many years before I’m finally sent to Outside, but the training will be a new experience.

I hardly blink as I stare ahead, everyone in the Atrium clapping their hands together in polite applause.

***

***20 years later, Year 283, the Citadel***

The bright rays of the morning sun is filtering through my white curtains as I wake up and check my bedside alarm clock. Printed digitally on its screen is ‘6.00 am’.

As punctual as always.

Sitting up in bed, I wait for -

Ding dong!

Never mind.

I pad my feet on the white-tiled floor for a moment before rushing to the lavatory to wash my face and tidy my hair. When I arrive, I splash some cold water onto my face then wipe it with a towel. After that, I look closely at myself in the mirror, grabbing a comb from atop the white sink and tidying my hair, styled in an undercut. I then study every feature, attempt to smile and to frown, furrow my brows, marvelling at how expressive my pale green eyes turn out to be. Perhaps that’s one reason why I was Assigned the Job Active Sentinel.

I didn’t honestly expect much when I was first called to be a Sentinel. I didn’t expect anything at all, actually. All I cared about was that I do my Job and I do it well. That’s what the Sovranty expects of us, and I believe that’s exactly what we were born to do. Serve the Sovranty. After all, they did save our lives from the harsh world of Outside.

Turns out, the training was more arduous than told to be. I, along with Number 16, was taught to be perceptive, to know how to act when appropriate. We were taught to express what they at the Training Centre called ‘emotions’. Emotions. What a waste of time. We were taught how to laugh and how to cry. To scream and to cower in fear. We were taught to analyse another’s emotions and sympathise with them. It was a drag, but that was what I needed to do.

For the sake of the Citadel.

Once I’ve made sure I look presentable, I proceed down the stairs carefully, holding the metal railing tightly in order to avoid slipping. The walls are hardly decorated; in fact, they’re as good as plain. The white of the concrete makes the whole place look almost blinding to the eyes, but that’s the standard set by the Sovranty, and it’s a standard the Builders must meet. The plainness of everything doesn’t bother me. All I really care about is that I have a home to live in just like the rest of the Residents in the Citadel. I doubt I’ll even have one where I’m going.

The pictures shown of Outside in my history holo-books and holo-pads depict a land of wreckages; bits of metal, concrete, and glass strewn about in an empty wasteland. It’s quite hard to believe it’s actually habitable there, but the Outsiders have found a way to survive, unfortunately, and that’s what’s important here.

The Outsiders are threats; constantly sneaking into the Citadel despite the efforts made by both the Inner and Active Sentinels to prevent them from doing so. They abduct our people, and who knows what happens to those they successfully do. They never come back.

Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, I open the door and see my Deliverer standing right before me; Number 23. I recognise Number 23 from my days in the Academy. I watched as he performed in the Placement Examination. The man was horrible at agriculture, crafting, physical activity and sciences, but he was pretty proficient in direction. It was only right he’d become a Deliverer.

I barely know him since we talk only little, but sometimes a small chat would be livening.

“Greetings, 39,” 23 tells me as he salutes. “Final day today?”

“Yeah. I’ll be going to Outside tomorrow,” I reply. “What’s today’s Morning Meal?”

“Cereal. I don’t know how it tastes, really, but I’ll find out soon enough.” He sets down his now-empty bag.

Trying to hold out the conversation a little longer, I ask “anything of interest happening today?”

“The only thing I know’s the public executing of Outsider Number 436. You’ll be watching it, of course. An alarm’s set for the event. First time watching?” 23 replies.

“Yeah.”

“Strange.”

“True.”

“Third time for me. It’s quite an... intriguing experience. I won’t talk to you about it just for the sake of not spoiling the entire thing, but all I could say is you wouldn’t want to miss it.” He checks his watch, huffing. “Anyway, don’t wanna be late. Gotta go.”

I nod. “Won’t be seeing you again, 23.”

With a final salute, 23 slings his bag on his shoulders and heads to his bicycle. I don’t know to whom he will be Assigned to deliver next after I’m gone, but the Sovranty will no doubt have a plan for him. The Sovranty cares for their Residents, arranging everything from our Daily Meals to mangaging the entire Citadel, and all it asks in return is effieciency and loyalty. It’s not much to ask for, so we must be thankful.

Bringing the metal box to the dining table, my bare feet remain cold as they step on the frigid tile. Implanted on the wall facing the street are large windows that allow me to glance outside and see the Residencies - they all look the same - across mine. I will remember the sight of plain houses when I see the wreckage of Outside and maybe even long for it again, but this is my Job. This was what I was created to do.

When I sit down after grabbing my utensils, the alarm atop my television sounds. The execution 23 was talking about must be starting now. I wish to see the fruit of my Job, see what happens when I achieve, so I decide to watch.

“Television, on.”

In a flash the television comes to life. I’ve used it once before; it was nothing but a try at it. I remember tapping on the screen and searching for both a button and a remote but finding none. Then came the brilliant idea to consult my holo-pad. Apparently, all I needed to do was say ‘television on’. I merely shrugged off the matter afterwards.

What, or rather who, appears on the television is nobody I recognise. It was earlier in the week when O436 - who is dressed as one of us - was caught in the act of an Abduction. No one knows whether O436 was acting alone, and while I think it’s about time the Sovranty put an end to that problem, I believe they have a plan, as they always do.

O436’s complexion comprises of a stubbed nose, dark brown eyes, pale skin and blond hair. O436 is a male, and he wears an expression I identify as indignation. What I don’t understand is why he believes he has a reason to be indignant. He’s the one committing the crime here. Whatever he will say or do, he deserves the punishment he’s to receive. However, if the Sovranty’s merciful enough to give leniency to him and offer a chance to be part of the Community, then let it be so.

The members of the Sovranty start speaking in unison.

“Were you alone in committing this offence against the Residents of the Citadel?” they ask.

“If you think I’m going to answer that, you’re gravely mistaken,” O436 replies. The audacity, I think, stopping mid-chew.

I continue to eat, although I register how I nearly drop my spoon onto the table due to how much my focus is being driven into the spectacle happening before me. “You must answer, otherwise no mercy shall be given,” the Sovranty says meanwhile.

“I don’t need your mercy,” O436 spits out, nostrils flaring as his face grows a brighter red. “You keep these poor people confined in this - this hellhole, and all you care about is progress when what should matter are their lives! You only want power when you have enough, and now you’re torturing these poor people for your benefit! I don’t need your mercy, and if you’re gonna kill me, that’s alright. I did my job, and I did it for the sake of what’s right.”

The Sovranty remains quiet for a short while before one woman speaks up from the row, saying “is that all you shall say, O436?”

“The name’s Devotion,” O436 says. “But all I wish to say now is goodbye... to my wife, Joy, and my son, Joseph.”

“Very well,” says the woman once more. “Bring in Doctor 54.”

An elderly man wearing a full white attire emerges from the doorway. The Sovranty’s centre is connected to one of the Hospitals in the Citadel for the members of the Sovranty’s easy access to healthcare lest one of them need it. Elder Doctors are in charge of caring for the Sovranty’s members; they have been in the industry for years by then and are specialists, so they offer only the best services. He walks in front of the row of seats where the members of the Sovranty are seated then takes a bow.

The Sovranty nods in acknowledgment of his greeting.

After the men and women of the Sovranty recognise him, 54 walks to the centre of the Atrium, bringing along with him a white suitcase. It’s a mystery to me; what’s inside the suitcase, but I’ll find out soon enough. After all, 54’s already made his way to O436’s side.

54 opens the suitcase and therefore reveals a small syringe and a set of phials. The phials are filled with a strange, clear liquid, and I realise what the Doctor’s intent is: he’s going to administer into O436 a lethal poison.

54 opens one of the phials and dips the needle into it, pushing the plunger. The barrel is filled with poison, and 54 recaps the phial and returns it into the suitcase.

O436 makes yet another show of bravery by staring at Death right in the face: as the needle of the poison-filled syringe is inserted into the skin of his arm, he looks at it intently, never blinking. Whatever belief the Outsiders have, it seems almost cult-like; the way they would sacrifice their lives for a belief that isn’t even remotely true.

O436 says nothing to calm him; in fact, he looks pretty serene now. It’s almost as if he isn’t about to die.

Nothing seems to be happening for a matter of minutes until suddenly O436 starts scratching at where the needle was inserted into him, the skin of his arm growing red with his efforts. The redness then spreads to the rest of his skin; to his face, his hands, wherever visible. There’s no doubt it has also spread to his legs and his arms, and even his bare feet have turned red.

After a while, O436 loses consciousness, his head dropping, his chin touching his chest. He would have collapsed were it not for the restraints that clasp his hands to the chair’s arms and legs to the chair’s, well... legs.

“Has he perished?” asks one man from the Sovranty.

54 places his stethoscope to the O436’s chest, to the left of his head where his heart lies. 54 says nothing; just raises a hand, implying that no, O436 is still breathing.

A minute or two passes, then 54 puts down his hand.

O436 is dead.

Everyone in the Atrium claps their hands together, then the television is switched off, indicating the end of the event.

I hardly bat an eye.

If I do my job well, there will be more to execute and less Outsiders to trouble us, so as I finish my cereal, I prepare myself for my Sending Out tomorrow; an unimposing ceremony but a great one nonetheless, readying myself for what’s to come.

***

“You are about to be Sent Out,” Head Sentinel 74 - a middle-aged man with whitened hair on the sides of his scalp and beard - says. “Remember, you’re not doing this for glory nor for the esteem of the Residents, but rather for their safety and the Sovranty’s.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply.

“You’re not being Sent Out to become one of them and if you ever betray us, we have the right to execute you. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

It’s now the day, but it feels like any other. I had no time for a Morning Meal, for I was expected to be at the Training Centre before the sun rose. The alarm came in handy. I woke up at 3 o’clock.

I wore my shoes and took my bike and cycled on through the dimly lit streets of the Citadel, the white of my clothes glaring under the streetlights. My Residence was built to be near the Training Centre for my convenience, so the journey wasn’t long. I arrived after 5 minutes.

I spent most of my day yesterday at the built-in gymnasium in my Residence, training. There wasn’t much to do, truthfully, and it was better I use my time for something productive than laze around. That wasn’t what I was trained to do. I was trained to strain myself; go past my limits for service to the Sovranty and the Residents of the Citadel. I was trained to maim, to kill, to prevent Abductions. I was trained to sacrifice my freedom, my everything for the sake of the greater good.

When I arrived at the Training Centre, the Head Sentinel was at the gates. I greeted him with a salute as is proper before parking my bicycle where it belongs. It will be disposed of; thrown to Outside, but I can’t bring myself to care. I was then brought to the gates of the Citadel; large barriers of a thick, unbreakable glass, and that’s when I first caught sight of Outside.

As pictures had shown me earlier on during my Training, Outside was nothing but a land of wreckages and death. Giant remains of tanks and buildings protruded from the ground, and although it seems empty, I know the City where the Outsiders life must be way farther beyond the borders of the Citadel. I still don’t see how anyone can survive this environment, however.

“The Outsiders’ City is farther north from here. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to provide you with transportation past the borders of the Citadel for fear of detection, but I promise you the journey won’t be long. Now, come. If you’re to appear as if you’ve escaped this place, you need to look roughed up.”

Head Sentinel 74 smears mud on my face, hands, shoes, clothes and hair, messing it up. I look positively haggard afterwards, but that’s all part of the job. It’s dirty work, figuratively and literally, and it’s my mission in life.

“You be careful,” Head Sentinel 74 tells me. “We don’t wanna hear you’ve been caught few months into the job.” He hands me a transmitter. “This is for when we contact you, or when you need to contact us.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When we contact you, it will buzz. Best you go somewhere private so nobody notices you.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, keeping the transmitter in my pocket. It’s no bigger than my palm and can fit in anywhere easily.

“The others have gone and we presume they’ve been killed by the Leaders. They’re savages, and we don’t know how they handle things there, so do your best not to get caught. We’re all counting on you, Sentinel 39. The fate of the Residents and the Sovranty rests in your hands.”

“Understood, sir,” I say, saluting.

“Now, let’s move while the day’s still young.”

We board a hovercraft and rapidly move away from the gates noiselessly. I sit down and buckle up as Head Sentinel 74 stands near the front, gripping the handle and steering us away from the Citadel. I’ll never be seeing it again, but I feel nothing. I’ve been trained in the art of imitating emotions, but I never felt them.

The sun is still down, and there’s nothing to be seen save for the path illuminated by the lights of the hovercraft. The land is parched and cracked, nothing able to grow from the dead soil. However, as we travel further away, the soil appears richer, spots of grass growing from the ground. I remain vigilant all throughout the trip, just in case there are Outsiders lurking about, suspecting.

Soon, I see a yellow, glowing light in the distance. That must be the Outsiders’ City Centre.

“Is that truly...?” I ask.

“Your intuition has not failed you yet, Sentinel 39. Indeed, that’s the City Centre. It’s much like our District 1, but... primitive. If you gain the favour of at least one of the Leaders, you’ll be able to live there. I suggest that you do. From what I’ve heard, the outer parts of the City are nasty places. Just nasty.” He sniffs. “Anyway, this is where we say goodbye.”

I unbuckle my seatbelt and salute. “It was an honour training with you, sir,” I say.

Head Sentinel 74 merely nods. Then he tells me to go, turning the hovercraft around and zooming away from where I stand.

That’s when I start running.

It’ll be soon when I’ll need to get my act together; to fool the Outsiders into thinking I have escaped the Citadel, but for now... it’s time to keep going.

For the Sovranty.

***

“Help!” I cry out as I near the Outskirts of the City. More mud smears my white shoes (which are now battered due to the long run) as I run upon grass and soil. I sound absolutely terrified, and I can see from the corners of my eyes how lights are lit and people are awakened by my shouting. I mind them not as I proceed to the City Centre, hoping to get the attention of one of the Leaders there.

As I rush across muddy roads, more people are roused from their slumber, and I see children and elders alike, looking at me with horror plain on their faces. “Help!” I continue to shout, and I can hear murmurs from the crowd that begins to follow me as I carry on to the centre.

“Someone help that poor man,” I hear a woman say.

The lights grow brighter as I near the Centre, and suddenly I bump into someone, ultimately stopping my run. The person falls down when I do, but they rise quickly as I pretend to be dazed.

“Hey, are you alright?” the person asks. Male. Fairly young.

“Where am I? Where the hell am I?” I ask, the panic a part of my act.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” the man tells me. “You’re Outside now. You’re saved. Now let me help you up.”

He grabs my arm gently and pulls me up as carefully as he can. “Who are you?” he asks me quietly. I’m aware of the spectacle I’ve created as well as the huge crowd of people gathered around us, but all I care about’s the man who helped me up. Is he a Leader?

“I - I - I don’t know,” I reply.

“You’re from the Citadel?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. What was your Number, then?”

“39.”

The man pauses in his steps, and he looks at me. His hazel eyes seem to gleam with something even I can’t put a name to, but it lasts all but a while. I just notice then how I’m an inch taller than him, but I decide that information is useless.

“Well, we can’t have that here,” the man says, smiling. “You’re now Ben. And now that you’ve got a name, it’s time to introduce myself. My name’s Joseph, but you can call me Joe. Another name of mine’s Love, and that’s ‘cause I’m a Leader of this place. You’ll love it here, I’ll promise you that, but first, it’s time to get you cleaned up. Come with me.”

As I’m brought to who-knows-where, I formulate a plan to befriend this ‘Joe’. Maybe he’ll be my key to knowing every plan they’ve made. Maybe he’ll be the one to bring me victory.

*************************

So, that’s the end of the first part! What are your thoughts so far? Confused about this AU? Don’t worry! I’ve made a post about it! Just check it out on my page if you need a reference. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading the first part, and if you have any title suggestions (‘cause I can’t decide djeoendodk), just tell me! Till the next part!

#hardzzello #hardzello #harzello #ben hardy #joe mazzello #AU fic #i still don’t know what to call this AU #help me #please #anyway #thanks for reading!#tell me what you guys think!

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writeyourownlifestory · 5 years

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Untitled: Hardzello

I wrote this at the request of my best friend @thatspunkydwarf -- who mind you -- loves Queen so you should definitely give her a follow if you want some good content.

Basically rated PG13 with some cursing from Ben. Sorry, it’s not super long, but it was fun to write. Enjoy.

“This is bloody bullshit,” Ben muttered, checking the time on his watch. He had been called in by the management team. Those bastards called him in and they decide to be late. Who the fuck does that sort of thing?

“No need to get your knickers in a bunch,” Joe commented from beside him. He was far too relaxed for this.

They both knew what this was about and yet both acted so differently. One was calmer. Unfazed by being called in while the other was utterly annoyed and pissed off at the very idea of having to drop everything just so they could be talked to like some little boy who made a mistake.

When the man finally did arrive, the appointment itself wasn’t exactly ideal. They had been over the whole thing a time before, back when Joe and Ben had only been hinted at being together. It was playful, to say the least, with the silly cardboard Ben they used as a prop.

It started off as fun. Just something to entertain the fans while they did their own thing. Everybody got a kick out of it, even management. The marketing department even supplied them with extra cardboard just in case anything happened to the first one.

With all the bad press going around because of fucking Singer, the guys just wanted to do something lighthearted and sweet. None they have to put up with this bullshit because they took it too far.

One video. Exactly one minute long. Apparently, it was too long since the bloody internet was going out of their minds because of a sixty-second video featuring them lying in a bed.

“You have to understand where we come from,” The head of the management department told them. The big wig in the fancy suit laid it all out for them, trying to make them understand. They already had one scandal going on and the blooming romance between Rami and Lucy wasn’t even enough to get people to stop shitting all over their film.

What made them think two men suddenly being in a relationship would?

Ben argued that for fuck sake, it wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong! They were just as engaging at Rami and Lucy were, if not more! They played fucking romantic partners, obviously, their chemistry was going to be on point. Roger and John were never in love, they were best friends.

Having actors who fell in love while playing best friends was even more fascinating to see that two straight people who got paid to kiss one another.

Management didn’t think so. And while they weren’t exactly told to take down the video, it didn’t seem to matter much more. Memes were made. Screenshots were taken. People were writing bloody fanfic about it.

Joe was amused more than anything, to be honest. He found the whole thing hilarious, especially since he was the one who started the whole Ben Cardy romance deal. Ben just played along. It made the fans happy and more importantly, it made Ben happy.

When they left the studio, Ben was in a huff. He didn’t like being told what he could and could not do. Joe was running to catch up to his angry stride, trying to calm him down from his harsh comments.

“Who the fuck do they think they are, telling us that we can’t be out in public. They’re lucky I don’t post a video with my cock up your-”

“Hey! Hey. All right, bring it down a peg big guy.” Joe insisted, grabbing Ben’s arm and pulling him to a nearby corner. “Number one, while I am sure the fans would love it, I’m fairly certain they would shut down my Instagram account if you did that.”

“We could always post it on my account. Your cock. My ass. Change it up a bit.” Ben offered.

He gave Joe a look the man could rarely refuse and to Ben’s dismay, today was one of them.

“Number two, it’s not like we can’t ever be out in public. We’re in public now, see?” He gestured around them. “Public!”

“Yeah, and if I dare kiss you, I may be dragged off the lot.”

“Look, what if I make you a deal?” Joe offered him carefully. “The Oscars are just weeks away, right? We are good until then. We support our film and support our friend. And the moment the camera stops rolling, I’m all yours.”

Ben wanted to be grumpy and argue that it wasn’t enough, though the last bit did pique his interest. “Mine, eh?”

“We got invited to the after party, remember? How do you think all those people with their academy awards would feel if we walked in, hand in hand?”

“Pretty fucking jealous, if you ask me.” Ben stepped closer to him, biting his lip. He wanted to kiss him. To touch him. To do fucking anything a normal boyfriend would get to do. “I love you, you know.”

“You should. I’m sort of a big deal.” Joe answered, smiling back at him.

Ben rolled his eyes at him, pushing his shoulder so they could walk on. It was as close as they could get until Oscar night. And for now, it would be enough.

#fanfic #writing #personal #hardzello #harzello #hardello #ben hardy #joe mazzello #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #borhap boys #gay #gay romance #gays in love #in love

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