BATUHAN'S HISTORY
// Childhood
Conceived in Arvaikheer, Batuhan had the privilege to be born in rural Ăvörkhangai Mongolia. You're probably wondering how it is a privilege considering the state of earth- no thanks to Basilisk's poison. While many people were subjected to overcrowded living spaces and cramped ways of life. Batuhan had fields he could run through and enjoy as a child, as long as they avoided the miles of trash that stretched in the distance. Batuhan was born a couple years after his brother with his twin sister who died in childbirth. Their life on Earth was rather rough, not having grown up in a well known colony.
The town, governed by the people itself, had less than a thousand in population. It was run down and the weather was quite extreme. During intense winds the garbage from nearby Eden would be hauled towards them.. And on lucky years, away from them. There is a mountain range surrounding them that generates the winds to those wondering where it could possibly come from.
Batuhan found his passion to tinker around eleven, not even he remembers the exact age, but can recall with confidence it was before his dad died. He found himself scavenging through the trash Eden would leave them without fear for his own safety, as courage is something the people of Arvaikheer are very well known for. To entertain himself heâd examine and fix rather simple trinkets, finding out what they do and how they did it. The knowledge provided to him was seemingly
bottomless; just like his curiosity. After all, when you grow up with no toys you find yourself open to different ways of having fun. His dad and mom were rather proud of this newfound ability and passion of his. His older brother on the other hand found it unbearably boring to bother with broken calculators and tablets, but was equally as proud as they were.
Not even a year or two passed when Batuhanâs biological father overdosed on pharmaceuticals. Batuhan had been messing away with faulty devices at the time, and at age thirteen, he attended his first Arvaikheer funeral where they burnt pounds of Eden trash alongside a corpse. Red ash was burnt to signify it was time to move onto the next world and not look back. The Nergui family stood and watched the smoke rise into the sky, his mother reached for said fog and was unable to hold Its essence, attempting to grab at something that was not there.
His older brother, refusing to be the jasu, retaliated and
brought hell on those who suggested it. Despite Mongolian culture having been forced to change under Basilisk rule, a male of the family must always be the one to undress and cover the body's face. Batuhan was the only other male in the Nergui household. With no complaint, he instructed himself to hold back the tears and help dad get to the next world.
// Adolescence
The years ahead of them were nothing short of bleak and painful, they had not realized just how much they depended on the now deceased Nergui. He was a source of energy and hope like the world had never seen. No matter the trials and tribulations, there was always a smile on his face. Batuhans older brother became cruel and unforgiving, mocking his fathers happiness and accusing him of possibly being âhighâ to be so happy with life. Batuhan did not know what âhighâ meant, and was berated for not knowing. This crude, unlovable brother of his made it impossible for him to want to stay home anymore. With everyone around him no longer responsive to wind on their face, no longer commenting on the sun rising above the sky...It was devoid of life. His mother had stayed surprisingly strong despite the emotional detachment.
His brother, falling into a
deep depression and still falling, needed more attention and care than Batuhan. While both were emotionally disturbed the youngest in the Nergui family showed no signs of mental damage as he continued to tell himself to hold back the tears and pain. It was easier to not care too hard. With both his mother and brother finding ways to stay stable, Batuhan had to find ways for them to stay sustained and fed so he became the official breadwinner of the house. It was okay in his book, he practically lived outside the house during the toughest period in his brother Bilguunâs life, not thinking anything of it as he became familiar with Arvaikheerâs entire town. Days and nights were spent stealing and swindling at only the age of fifteen. Soon his life was made of little of obsessing over machinery and more about keeping his family alive, his vast education being used to sabotage and hurt.
// Adulthood
With the comfortable lifestyle of not letting emotions stunt him, Batuhan eventually stopped caring for others explicitly. Life was an endless machine of hate in his eyes, violence and pain were constant neighbors. There were many times Batuhan walked away from someone's suffering, walked away from people he knew he had the power to help, failing them and developing a sense of extreme individuality and selfish needs. He believed that if life beat you to your knees you yourself needed to get up and not rely on others. Dependency on others will only mold you into half the man you can ever hope to be.
In a night just like any other, Batuhan stumbles across what he would now classify as degenerates. The low life's of Mongolia, people made cold and heartless known as bandits, traveling from far away to collect a debt owed to them. Earth had tons of them all over the world, belonging to their own circlejerking clique. What they did for a living, Batuhan could really not give a fuck. It was a dog eat dog world after all. He knew very well any of them could have been the ones to have given his father the drugs, but his destructive coping habits had destroyed any reason or desire for him to fight. With a turn, he was ready to return to his mother and brother. Until two approached him with that same cold look.
Memory: May 23, 3016 8:40pm
âThe two of you? You both barely reach my knees.â Batuhan pointed out plain as day, a frown on his face. This had to be some sort of joke.
âDonât let anyone know we kicked your ass then, simple.â
Came the heavy southern mongolian accent from behind him, her râs thick and prominent in her mongol.
Batu kept his eyes on the two infront of him before replying with the same aggressive energy, âWith what? Those run down broken shock gloves?â and the taunts continued once he read the stunted expression from one of the bandits. He had to give them some credit, the other was trying to not let his shock seep through.
âYouâre outnumbered, idiot.â One reminded him and inched closer.
âUnsurprisngly you lot haven't learned yet, Iâll be generous and let at least one of you see another day.â he snapped with a rising voice. His anger was already getting the best of him, and to his advantage they underestimated him- Thinking they could get a hold of him as he seethed with rage. Did they think he was some overly emotional idiot?
The bandits in front of him reached out in a rush- and were met with a kick in retaliation. Any person with a brain knows not to even dare kicking hands wearing shock gloves. In this case it was different, at this point they were just gloves. As long as he wasnât put into a lock he would be safe from a beating. Yet..
The bandit behind him did not even bother to join the fight, instead leaning on a pole and crossing her arms.
Quick parries punished the bandits, who seemed, rather untrained to fight. Each time they swung with hardly any momentum he punished them with a left hook. It wasnât until one forgot to protect their face did Batuhan send them straight to sleep with another left hook.
...
âYou bitch, you said youâd HELP.â came the enraged howl from the remaining bandit. It wasn't even..directed to him.. What? Even if Batu did want to finish the job, the bandit ran like the wind.
Batu reluctantly turned and locked eyes with the southern Mongol, her shock gloves actually intact and functioning. A raised brow in realization.
|
The
memory of his first encounter with the southern Mongol bandits was a blur, he can hardly be bothered to recall it. There was probably some fighting involved, yeah, totally. The most important thing to take out of this memory however is the fact Batuhan ended up
joining them. He was drawn to a girl that seemed to have a relatively important role in their clique. She always had a glare in her eyes, as if she had some sort of bone to pick with you yet, would never act upon it.
The cool kids would call it a bad case of resting bitch face. Anyways, she possibly had the strongest personality out of all of them, and had the toughest ego to break.
Batuhan reveled in their company as it made up for the years lost to having depended on himself. While their bond really varied from person to person, he entrusted them with his knowledge and in return at only seventeen he was affiliated with their violent ways. Should one of them ever need aid there was Batuhans hand awaiting to lift them up. However, there was a very serious system of debt in place. He had taught them everything he knew from his days of tinkering and in exchange they had given him resources and requests to fill, as the demand for fixes on whatever foolish things they needed grew.
It became an endless cycle and Batuhan did not once complain. He enjoyed having friends and purpose beyond what he had at home. The female bandit he had been recruited by turned out to be one of the mechanics within the small organization. Sheâd teach him circuiting and voltage work. Her name, Urze, having been forced at the back of his mind to present as he refused to make the effort to tap into the memories of those unpleasant days.
As time went on, Batuhan spent it in copious amounts with the Bandits because to him, they were a ragtag family. He himself indulged in their degeneracy and twisted ways, with irreparable damage done by him and his friends. With more and more currency flowing into his house his mother and brother had gotten suspicious of how he kept them all afloat. What had struck them the most bizarre was the fact Batuhan no longer needed to go into the scrapyard to keep his mind busy. He was well provided for and had devices they could not believe he manufactured. The prodding and poking from his mother evolved into anger, berating him. She'd confirmed her own suspicions of how he spent his time and Batuhan would retaliate with offended rage, finding it unfathomable that he spent his life providing for them and that it was disproved of.
Why care now? No one on earth did. Why should he uphold morals that meant little in the life they live. It became a mutual cycle of bitterness between the two.
To further escape the bickering he would spend at most a week at the bandits hideout, becoming a very prominent and important figure to them all. His need for family rubbed off on them and strengthened their bond like no other. It was a bond that could not be challenged, until one night, like any other night the bandits bantered among each other about the antics they'd pull. Topics were juggled between vandalism and beatings, things Batu today would not stand for, yet in the past simply lived by. Eventually the banter dipped into drugs, the stoic, brave soul in Batu wavered with the topic. He had to remind himself to not think too much of it. It wouldn't get him anywhere. One of the bandits had roared in laughter as he recalled watching his own client overdose in front of him.
For the first time in years, Batuhan felt sick to the core, fingers stiff and unable to continue tinkering. They'd stumble on the circuits, burning the gloves. From that day on, most of the insensitive 'jokes' and comments wouldn't be filtered by his brain. They would burn onto his skin and find ways to get under, his irritability rising to new highs with the Bandits. It worried him not being able to control his emotions as much as he could- the voice of the male bandit that had mocked the poor client overdosing replaying over and over in his head. It came to the point where he
no longer called them a client, but a victim. It was nauseating to have his world turn upside down in a matter of a day, and in only weeks this behavior would be commented on. It did not help that his vision was blurring and his eyes were hurting, making it impossible to focus on his tasks and what was ahead of him.
Soon, everything and everyone around him became a pressure in his head. Hurting him mentally at every waking moment and there was only so much he could do to cope. The female mechanic, Arna, confronted him. She'd make a point of his behavior and how he was making everyone uncomfortable. He hadn't known what to say and simply stuttered like a fool, trying to get out words to express himself but unable to after years of training himself not to. This whole time he was feeding off of negativity and getting his crude revenge on life by hurting others. It made him
realize what he had become.
He stared at Urze in stupor and simply used his vision as an excuse on why his world was falling apart. While it was only half of the truth it was still impeding on his life's work and affecting his mental health. He lied about how it worried him to no longer see the world, despite there not being anything worth seeing anymore in his view. Thank his luck, the story was bought and within hours, the discomfort the bandits displayed toward him was gone. They were understanding, as losing your sight wasn't exciting in any bit. They'd known of his vision problems becoming a hindrance beforehand and took it seriously. Batuhan was never the one to complain.
Nearing his eighteenth birthday Batuhan undergoes back alley surgery, knowing fully well the risks it comes with. A couple of the bandits referred him to some surgeons they knew. While they weren't what Eden could offer beggars can't be choosers, so he tread on without looking back. Life was at its turning point for Batuhan. After his inner turmoil washed through him, he knew he couldn't break out of this self loathe unless he left them. There were many, many ways Batuhan considered, for instance, should this surgery fail or he be double crossed to an organ harvester. He didn't care. It would be a way out of his life and redemption. He half wondered if atoning for sins would make it all worth it, a last thought before the surgery began.
Still at the age of seventeen, his surgery is a success while not entirely perfect. Both eyes were operated on and it seems one underwent several lacerations and- accidents. Whatever the fuck they did to him, it worked. One eye was perfect, and Batuhan was unsure why he was very glad to still be alive- Until he'd realized the people that awaited him were the bandits. He wanted nothing to do with them.
Batuhan was practically a brother to Urze, so she did not take it with the same gentleness Batuhan gave her when he said he was done. It was difficult doing so because Batuhan knew once you were in with them⊠there was no out. The amount of information traded amongst one another was too risky and he understood. He also understood Arna would tell no one if he were to want to leave,
aware of the fact she would hunt him down herself. He hadn't forgotten the story of the last woman who tried to leave. She was Arna's biological sister.
Urze continuously dreamt of how she wishes she'd punish her sister for leaving. Batuhan feels she was more angry for being abandoned than anything, hardly able to buy the bit of the story where it was revenge for the bandits. Maybe the other fools do, but it was clear as day what it really was to Arna. However, whatever Batuhan and Arna had during his stay with the bandits wasn't worth it. If she was still raw about it, she could try and send her goonies to kill him.
There were more important things in life than settling gang disputes, such as keeping your family safe. Batuhan came home one day and urged them to come with him to the Americas, as there was nothing left for them here. With his persuasive tongue, he had proven how Mongolia was torture and they needed to move on.
His mother wasn't in the least bit surprised... she'd noticed Batuhan was home more the past couple of months and talked of leaving to the Americas. It was a distance, yet when she turned to see what her other son would think, he looked just as determined to leave it all behind. She would be lying if she said she didn't want to burn the house to the ground.
As they were preparing for their journey, Batuhan let it be known they had to leave because his ex gang wanted to hurt them all. While it made his mom rage his older brother burst into laughter, and soon enough Batuhan couldn't help but laugh too. It was all too comical and worked in their favor, and not once did either of them look back.
// Osprey
While human technology had reached its prime in means of transportation, it was seriously lacking outside of Eden. Immigrating to the Americas was no easy feat thanks to this, it had to be done illegally through a cargo boat. It was a modern sleek one meant to be entrusted with goods for companies across the nations. They were self-automated on paths and sometimes checked regularly by coast guards hired by said companies. The Nergui family rounded up little of their personal belongings to make this trip, and abandoned most items that reminded them of their father. The entire time, Batuhan hardly spoke to his family or any other people sneaking among the cargos, struggling to get words out for the months they spent on the boat. He spent his eighteenth birthday on a cargo ship.
Over the course of their stay on the cargo, both of the boys had noticed their mother wasn't doing too well from time to time. She began looking rather underweight and sickly at times and had discolored skin. They were more than happy to leave the cargos and catch the trains deep in the south, unfamiliar with the layout of the United States they crossed through Louisiana and Washington into northern Arizona. Here they would be suspected of nothing and subjected to a much less expensive way of life than they had seen in the states they visited [for no more than a day.]
The travel had distracted them from their issues and conflicts, no time to stop and talk things out or worry too hard. There was only the worry of survival and how to get through another day. Where to sleep and
when to sleep. Batuhan was once again keeping them on their feet by using his tools of the trade to round up money to keep them afloat. Once again he was living just as he used to but without the looming repressed depression. Still, the uncomfortable tight feeling was in his chest at times pondering over how to begin to talk to his family again.
He'd eventually create a name for himself in Arizona, people not once questioning their background as it was a cultural pot of people in the state thankfully. Should someone ever need touch-ups on their slab or scavenged Edenite technology he would be the man to go to. Having plenty enough experience with throwing around higher tech; it became word on his street that he would be reliable and slowly but surely people would bring his name up for any help. Their small apartment was his workshop. As customers spoke he was able to muster the courage to speak around his mother, who was looking healthier.
The humans outside of Eden do not live long fulfilling lives unfortunately, depending on their colony's care or how much they fight for the right to live. His mother had come down with a terminal sickness and no matter how many times they'd warn her to take care of herself... It was too late. Her discolored skin had returned and realization had dawned that even with taking care of herself it wouldn't have been enough. She'd contracted it on the cargoâs to America. Desperate to find help, they'd abandon the workshop and move up Nevada where there was a thriving Earthling community of many, hopefully a doctor somewhere.
While doctors were easy to find they had all said the same unfortunate words... She had been invaded by bugs on the inside, and Earthling scurvy was no joke. They were slowly killing her and they had no idea how to save her. Batuhan took it badly, unable to accept he wasted so much of his time away from Mother. Even after abandoning the bandits and Mongolia he had struggled to look her in the eye. Batuhan was ready to hold the tears back until Bilguun, his brother embraced him with a hug and held him. He was unable to contain his distraught feelings about the possibility that she'd soon pass away. His brother was emotionally stable enough to comfort him no matter how much the tears threatened to come to Bilguun, as Batuhan was finally allowed to cry.
They lived peaceful days in Nevada, Batuhan had learned news of an ambitious machine being built that needed helping hands; but couldn't find himself to separate himself from his mother or brother. They were finally laughing together and spending nights sleeping in the same room in fear she wouldn't wake the next day. With the money Batuhan and his brother as manager accumulated from the workshop they would buy mother the best food and clothes. A doctor who felt indebted to Batuhans work would stop by to check up on them. He would spend his nights reading on an invitation he'd received to help with assembling a machine that would give struggling humans a fighting chance, making the connection that it was the ambitious machine he'd caught wind of while extending his practices in Nevada: the Osprey.
Batuhan had spent his life shoving the Basilisk rule at the back of his mind, it having become a part of life; as dreadful as the way life was. The one week the doctor did not visit was the same week their mother had died in her sleep. They mourned her and together they had prepared a Mongol funeral for her, holding her one last time before initiating the preparations. She lived a difficult and generous life.
Batuhans suspicions of the doctor grew in intensity as he would reread the letter, burning it in his mothers funeral. It struck him weird how the doctor continued to pester him about whether he possibly knew about a machine being built the majority of the time he tried to initiate small talk. At the time Batuhan knew nothing of it. It left a bad taste in his mouth how the âdoctorâ would leave snide comments of the machine, a very weird reaction indeed to a project. Without leaving much notice Batuhan convinced his brother to come with him through this invitation, reminding Bilguun that they must stay incognito should anyone ask where they are heading.
Bilguun, determined and trusting of Batuhans judgement, agreed and packed most things that belonged to mother. This time they had taken no photos of dad.
Civil rights and happiness are inseparably connected in Batuhans point of view from that day on.. He has been one of the traumatized individuals of Earth and misled to think his miserable ways of life were the only way.
Expanding his horizons never once crossing his mind for more than ten years. It wasnât until he began to let himself feel and accept the judgment that came from his single mother. If he could start over and do It all over again, he wouldnât. He feels it all had to happen to learn that humanity needs to be fought for. Batuhan Is not a stranger to surviving odds, he is determined to teach his brother about engineering and continue the legacy of fighters his mother started. The Osprey gained another mechanic in its fourth year of construction.
