Chapter Text
As you can see, the fic has been wiped clean from its original conceptual state. The real story is going to be posted here from now on. However as I hovered my finger over the delete button, I couldn't bring myself to remove that history, so it has been reuploaded into a separate story in case you want to relive the original version.
It's time, guys. Time for the Son of Westcott fanfic to truly begin.
Prologue: The Son born from Evil
In a room of an unnamed building, a tall man was watching an experiment take place before him by other men in the room in lab coats and others in military grade equipment in case something went wrong. He was wearing a formal jet black suit, his hair was ash blond, and he has a pair of sharp eyes as if a knife cut slits in his face. The color of his eyes also appeared cold and lifeless despite still breathing, which was enhanced by his dull blue eyes and very pale skin.
As for the experiment he was watching, while we couldn't see much of it, he was clearly watching a tube or capsule of some sort, and you could hear roars of pain and resistance. Instead of feeling guilt or remorse, the tall man just continued looking, relishing in what was taking place before him. A machine beeped near this tube as we zoom in towards it, which appeared very vending machine like.
"BATTLELOG, COMPLETE." The machine said, depositing what appeared to be a thumb drive of some sort. One of the lab coat men removed it, but we don't see what becomes of it for we switch back to the tall man, who was clearly the leader of this operation.
"It's all going smoothly..." he said, having a raspy voice to match his appearance. "This time I won't be blindsided by her..." he is shown overlooking not just one, but THOUSANDS of those tubes while he was watching from a platform. He had an armies worth of them, each being monitored by other workers, and even a few robots patrolling around.
"Dad?" Asked a small voice, which did surprise the tall man a bit, but he regained his composure and turned to see a male child behind him, looking to be just about 10 years old but could be younger. This child's appearance compared to his dad was much more innocent and not as unsettling: he still had his fathers hairstyle, but was raven colored instead and a bit longer. The child also had somewhat more tanned skin compared to his father. And finally, the boys eyes were soft innocent hazel, completely different from the dads dark eyes.
You can tell the father was more interested in the scene behind him rather than the child, but he put on a smile before kneeling down towards him. "Michael? Is everything alright?" He asked.
"Not really." The child, named Michael, said. There was a bit of snark in his voice, which was either the kids personality or just he was cranky from a nap or something. "I was on the video phone with mom again. Spoke to Kotori, then your henchmen came in and said they had to run more tests on me. Again." He said a little annoyed when saying that. "Why do they always interrupt me with mom? Why are they so far away? Why are they always doing those dumbass tests? Why..?"
SMACK!
The moment the tall man registered "dumbass" coming out of his child's mouth, he gave him a hard slap. A bit harder than necessary sure, making his head whip to the side, but still...
"... sorry... It's just stressful." Michael apologized.
"I understand," the dad said, which you can tell was unserious due to his tone, but not to the mind of a child. "But they have to make sure your heathy. Remember the story about how you were born?"
Michael then nodded. "Ye-Yeah... you weren't sure if I would be successful..." Which to the mind of the child, meant he was barely able to be born.
The dad gently touched the boys shoulder. "Exactly. Your mother and I are just worried about you." Both boys then smiled at each other. "Isn't your concert or something today?" Dad then asked.
The boy got really excited then. "Yeah! Tsukino Yoimachi is coming here to America! I did all my chores and all my homework, and I've studied really hard!"
"Then go get ready. Once daddy's done here, I'll find you." Said the tall man, and with an energetic nod, the younger boy ran off. The 'daddy' didn't even give the kid a sign of affection like a hair ruffle or even a pat, only watched the boy run off.
"Sir Westcott." Said one of the lad coated men, coming towards the still kneeling dad as he then stood up upon being called. "Results on Michael came back." He handed Westcott some paper with unreadable data, which unless you knew how to decode it, you were f*cked.
The longer Westcott looked at the paper, the bigger his frown got. "... still nothing? Nothing at all?" He asked from looking up from the paper back to the lab tech, rather annoyed himself now like his son was moments ago. "It's one thing to not have the spark for magic, but with the other brat now burned to a crisp, he should have became the next Inheritor! You know how much time and money went into this project?!"
Despite his bosses clear aggravation, the lab tech remained very calm and professional. "Sir, we've tried everything. We even ran simulations if he did kiss a Spirit or one of our Mimics." said the tech. "Whether it's because he's not biological matured enough or his body isn't compatible with their energy; we can't find anything. From what our instruments can tell, there's absolutely nothing special about your boy."
Westcott didn't even sigh, just continued to look annoyed... then he crumpled up the paper before tossing it somewhere. "Pity. And here I thought I could create my own..." He then walked past the lab tech to overlook the operation again.
"Sir?" Asked the lab tech.
"I'll deal with him later. Let him enjoy his stupid show..." Westcott said.
XXX
We time-skip ahead a couple of years in front of an orphanage in a city. Coming out of the orphanage was the same little kid that was also Westcott's son, but he wasn't exactly a kid anymore. He was a young adult, now looking to be in the High School stage of his life. He had the same appearance and features as before, just older-looking.
He was just living out his life now after being left here. His dad said it was only a babysitting thing, and he'd return shortly after he came back from a business trip to Japan in a few days.
Those days turned to weeks... they turned to months... you get the point.
Michael Pelham kinda figured he was abandoned pretty early on around week 3 of his dad never returning, but he was in denial for awhile. But as time went on, he leaned to accept the harsh reality. Didn't make things easy, but at least he still had access to money from the company his dad owned that was put in a separate account for him so maybe his father wasn't entirely heartless, just didn't want to deal with his son anymore.
It was called DEM, but it was an American company from what he understood.
Was it something he said or did?... He still didn't know to this very day, and no one in the company he still had contact with would tell him anything whenever he'd bring it up when he was younger or ask to speak to his dad. He eventually accepted that reality too.
He was walking down the streets of the city of New York to his job, as even though he was loaded, he learned on his own that money had to be replenished and could be cut off should the company decide to stop, so he got a job. He also did go to school and whatnot, but mostly kept to himself. The fear of being outcast again was always in the back of his mind.
As he walked down the sidewalk, 2 cars were shown to have had crashed into each other further on ahead. However instead of calling the proper authorities, the 2 male owners of those cars were in a heated argument. If it continued, there was going to be swinging. On a stoop nearby were 2 older men looking to be in their early or late 50's were watching this play out from their home building behind them, sitting on the stairs while each had a beer in a glass bottle.
Both men were caucasian and wore somewhat raggedy jeans and T-shirts. One man had dark sunglasses, while the other wore a worn baseball cap; which was so worn, most of the letters had fallen/faded off.
"I got the Mercedes." Said the man with the glasses.
"Eh, my moneys on the Tesla." Said the baseball cap man, both men obviously making a bet. A few seconds after making the wager, Michael walked forward a bit faster, seemingly familiar with the older men and leaned on the stoops railings.
"We got another one?" He asked the men.
"Yup. Mercedes man an' a Tesla boy." Said the baseball cap man and taking a sip of his beer after, neither of them looking at Michael but knowing it was him by his voice.
"So who's betting who? Kyle's got the Tesla or Kenny on the Mercedes?" Asked Michael, using their names in his question to figure out who was betting who. This was a little game the old men played, as crashes happened here pretty often, they liked to bet who would lose the current argument of a crash before or if the authorities would arrive.
"Nah, I got the Tesla." Kyle, the one in the glasses, corrected.
"I don't know, looks like it'll be a draw to me." Michael said, taking the middle ground.
"You kidding me, boy?" Asked Kenny. "Dat Tesla boys a lean little shrimp. He ain't gonna last 4 seconds!"
"I'm telling ya, the big ol' Mercedes jock going down. I see his limp from here!" Said Kyle.
As the car owners argued, the one by the Tesla made the first punch on his Mercedes opponent. This also got some attention from other bystanders who began watching out of shock, or got their phones out and held them sideways. However pretty soon after (though not totally surprisingly), the Mercedes driver returned the favor. However before the fight could escalate further, the cops showed up and began to de-escalate the situation before either person could get seriously hurt.
While Kyle and Kenny frowned at his, Michael slowly held out his hand towards both of them with a smile, and both older men pulled out two 10 bills before handing them over to the clear victor of the bet, said winner slowly putting his prize away in his pocket.
"Pleasure's all mine, Gentlemen." Michael said to them without losing his smile. He then began to continue on his way to his original destination.
"Hey! Will we see ya tonight for the game?" Asked Kyle.
"I'll drop in if I got time!" Michael said while still walking.
"And maybe bring a woman with ya this time!" Asked Kenny, his tone clearly joking.
"Bite me!" Michael yelled back, his tone matching the joking nature of the men. Aside from some locals he was friendly with, those 2 were a few of the only people Mike spoke too regularly. Could be because they were older and old enough to be his parent, so maybe he did this because subconsciously he longed for a family like he once had?... maybe.
While he was walking along his way, his cell phone did ring. The caller ID showed it was his cousin, Mana Takamiya, though she lived in Japan. He may have lost contact with his stepsister and mother from all of this, but he did still have his cousin Mana thankfully. In fact she was the only person who would both call and visit him sometimes, but she was always busy with her Nightmare job as she put it.
"Death row. Next in line speaking." Michael answered his phone.
"God forbid!" Giggled Mana on the other end of the line. "Whatcha been up too? I've been meaning to call you for a while, just... ya know."
"Space Quakes still happening there? I'm always hearing on the news about them, having never slowed down unlike other parts of the world." Michael asked.
"Eh... they come and go. I'd much rather deal with snowstorms down by you at this point." Mana said. "Anything interesting for you?"
"Not much. Same old sh*t. I get up; look around the walls of my room; brush, shower, shave; go to work and maybe paint the town once in a while." Michael said.
"PHFFT! Your no artist. You haven't drawn since you grew out of that crush on that singer." Mana said, teasingly.
"Heh. It's better than wondering about why I was dealt this hand on the poker table." Michael said.
"... Still think about it?" Asked Mana, already sensing what was wrong with him.
"All the time." He admitted. "... I don't know, did I piss him off? Was my own mother okay with this? What about my stepsister? Ya, she was younger than me and maybe forgot about me, but... I got no closure, ya know?"
"I mean, if your that curious cuz, why not just come up here?" Mana said in a silly tone of voice. What surprised her is that Michael didn't respond back right away, but if she was with him right now, she'd see his eyes go slightly wide upon the suggestion. "... cuz?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm still here. Just, er... crazy traffic, ya know?" Michael played off. "Listen, I'm almost at work, and these street be harder than any speed-runner on YouTube. I'll call you back." This wasn't a full lie, as the busy streets of New York were in fact dangerous. Night or day, the city never sleeps.
"Okay. I love ya, cuz." Mana said, then he and her both hung up.
XXX
Mana's words never left his head, even as he went through the day and finally returned home for the night. It may have been a silly joke, but the more her words echoed in his head, the more he thought about it; and the more he thought about it, the more appealing it became to him. Was such a thing even possible? And if it was, could he really leave behind everything too...
The f*ck was he talking about? What did even HAVE here?! He was born into riches, but left in the dust by his own father who promised he would return! Now he was working odd jobs with barely any social life in a depressing life in an orphanage! He was practically all alone, his only source of companionship being TV, movies and anime, which he was always loved. Sure Dubs might be sh*tty and censored, at least in his early years, but it was a part of his life that always made him happy, even if just for a few minutes.
"If your that curious cuz, why not just come here?..." Mana's words echoed one final time in his head before making his decision, starting by pulling up airline tickets on his phone...
Bakuganman proudly presents...
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A fanfiction that will intrigue fans and trigger others...
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A different take on the world of the only harem anime (at this time anyway) to have 5 seasons...
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DATE A LIVE: SON OF WESTCOTT
