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Yaoi dislikers beware, this is a 3x5 and eventually 2x3. Bail now if you don’t like it. ?
Note: This is a futuristic Gundam setting, technology has advanced rather
a lot, and there is also an over abundance of psychics and such. People
are using more of their brains. Quatre has moved up to become one of the
most powerful psychics in the world ~.^
“I’ll be the One” - BSB, used with out permission
Part One: Chaos Strikes
"Trowa on your right!"
"Thanks Quatre, I'm on it!"
Duo sighed. turning his attention to the banterings of his copilots. It was beginning to turn into a really long fight that they were involved in. Duke Dremail had ordered a continuous stream of attacks. The bastard had the right idea for slowly but surely they were all wearing down. If he had to take anymore continuous battle then he would fall asleep at the console.
"DUO YOUR LEFT!!"
It was training only that let him react in time. . Bringing one of his wings up kept the main body of Deathscythe from taking the damage that the missiles would have caused. As the wing raised, the hand holding his thermal scythe swept out and neatly cut two offending Leos and one surprised mobile doll in half.
“Thanks Heero.”
“Baka.” Duo smiled at his grumpy lover’s comment. The name-calling was not sincere. Duo knew that. He grinned and pushed his com.
“Well fine! Omae-o-korosu you too!”
The Deathscythe pilot smiled when he heard the Wing pilot snort. Off to his left Wufei was chasing a batch of mobile dolls and laughing with a decidedly almost demented tone. Duo blinked slightly at the thought of ‘the pyro’ as Wufei was affectionate dubbed, off his rocker. That was a scary thought.
“Hey Wufei, you still sane?”
“Perfectly, why?” The innocent confusion in Wufei’s voice maked over by the slight homicidal edge there as well made Duo gulp. Once again he was very glad that he was not a mobile doll.
“Nothing.”
As Quatre listened to the other talk on a frequency that only they were aware of. Her forces hadn’t found a way to pick up on it yet. Once they did they would find another frequency to talk on, and so the game would continue. As he listened to Wufei’s voice crack slightly he was forced to acknowledge the different ways in which people dealt with stress. He too was feeling the effects of sleep deprivation and the strain of constant battle. Yet he found that he possessed an inexplicable clarity of mind, even as razor sharp exhaustion bit into him. The young Arab pilot was very grateful for the peace of mind that he possessed at all times. He had been forced to cultivate it over a long period of time, schooling himself not to be careless, but rather controlled. If he were careless then people died. And that was the last thing that he wanted for any of his friends. . He was the director behind the brilliant and deadly team assaults that they had pulled in the past. The orchestrated movements of his friends and compatriots were again today directed by his sharp and clear mind. The pack of mobile dolls that they faced today was so thick that it seemed to be never ending. The odds had been worse at times, but Quatre couldn’t think of a time that was much worse than now. It seemed as if they had sent the whole God-forsaken fleet out. That actually wouldn’t surprise him considering Duke Dremail’s tactics. The brash idiot was going to get someone killed.
As he watched the dolls dance he realized that the puppeteer was no one else than his dear Dorthy. He growled slightly under his breath. He looked over at his com and noted that there was a message flashing. Heero was patiently waiting onscreen as Quatre clicked over.
Through his ports Quatre observed as Wing took a sharp left, using the jets to get his suit out of the way of a rather large beam. Heero looked back at the com again, disinterest in the general situation plain on his face.
“Quatre, is there anywhere specific for me to be, or free reign?”
There was a moment’s pause in which he watched the Deathscythe completely fade out of view and Quatre’s twin scimitars flew with molten efficiency through enemy metal. Soon thereafter there was a blinding flash of light as three mobile dolls disappeared as well as a copy of the vaeate. Quatre paid little mind to the breathless scream of the pilot of the last suit. The little background noises didn’t matter. This was a war and people died. Through a slight amount of static Quatre came back over.
“Do your own thing Heero.”
“Hai.”
Wufei rolled his eyes, Quatre had just gone ahead and given Heero permission to break formation and blow shit up as he pleased. Somehow the prospect of having to fight alongside the homicidal Japanese pilot did not appeal. When Heero and Wing were so completely in tune with each other, it was best simply just to stay out of their way. It was amazing to see the way that he could make that suit perform when wired in.
He was so tired---over the past week he had gotten approximately seven hours of sleep. Over that same week he had consumed over eighty cups of very black coffee and was going on ninety. His hands shook slightly from the drug induced awareness and he was entirely sure that he shouldn’t be piloting Nataku right now. Still he persevered, because silently he was fighting with Wing boy, seeing how long he could last against the boy that was one with his machine.
Trowa brushed his troublesome bang to the side and out of his eyes and addressed the scope in front of him. Tension ran through his wiry frame like a playful child, stopping at odd places at odd times, sometimes making him shake. The hand moving the heavier arm of Heavyarms was nearly immobile by now. By sheer force of will he kept moving. The targets in his sights moved around in a frenzied and deadly dance, trying to fool him. Such maneuvers would eventually prove ultimately futile; for he would eventually kill them all. He laughed softly at his own thought. One could never kill something that was dead to begin with. The only thing he was fighting with were soul-less metal puppets moved by another’s hand. The lack of adequate sleep was beginning to affect him as well as his fellow pilots. He growled slightly as Heavyarms chimed, informing him that he was about to run out of ammunition.
When he did run out of ammunition then he would have to pull out
of the battle with all expediency. He was positive that the others would
be all right. Together they had faced thousands of the same mechs that
they now faced. Another chime if a different pitch informed him that he
was effectively out of ammunition and also completely out of luck.
“I’m pulling out! See you guys at base!”
Silence reigned and he was about to repeat his message when both Quatre and Heero acknowledged. He scanned the field and found no trace of Deathscythe. With a wry smile he concluded that Duo must have turned on the hyperjamming to give himself a breather. Wufei was far left of him, catching a pack of unfortunate mechs in a burst of sweep fire. He pulled out with minimal damage. From his new vantage point he watched as the conflict continued.
Duo sat back in his seat, monitoring the battle still waging outside. He noted that Trowa had pulled out. He had deep respect for his fellow pilot, however Heavyarms was a difficult Gundam to pilot; simply because when the sucker ran out of ammo one was severely SOL. With relief he noted that the battle seemed to be heading toward a conclusion. Still some niggling sense of doubt loomed in the back of his mind informed him kindly that there was much more yet to come.
An hour after Quatre had let him break formation Heero sat back with a self-satisfied smirk hovering about his lips. Wing hummed happily, it’s triumph Heero’s as well. The savage beauty of the moment was still fresh in his mind. Half of him was decided that his next prudent action would be to grab a nap while he still could. Even he was human, and eventually every human failed. If he had to, he could completely remove himself from the needs of his body and set himself completely into the task at hand ahead of him. Many times that was how he had accomplished the impossible, by pushing his body to do more than it was ever supposed to. It was dangerous, for when he fell into that kind of a mindset it was very easy to drive himself to death. He had done it once before and not even Wing had been able to keep his blood from spilling. The battle had been won and yet he still stood ready, for he was sure that not all was said and done.
Quatre typed with lethargic fingers at his console, tallying up their losses. He watched amused as blood flowed slick and red down his fingertips, staining his panels. Fusei would have a hell of a time cleaning this mess up. Everything seemed to be within acceptable limits. In relative perspective this had not been even close to one of the longest or hardest battles they had fought. Yet it seemed as if it had strung on for an eternity unto itself. He hit the broadband frequency to make sure that all of his friends were still with him. Just because he could feel them with his mind did not necessarily mean that they were still with him in the flesh.
His quiet, calm voice rang out over the silent depths of space. “You guys still alive?”
“hn.”
“You honestly think that (I) would be killed by soulless dolls?!”
“I’m here Quatre.”
“I’m Shinigami, is that a relative question?”
Quatre smiled. Everyone was alive and well. He was about to say something when his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened to the size of his teacup saucers as he caught sight of his sensor readings. They were completely surrounded.
“FUCK!!!!”
Duo blinked. To the best of his knowledge he could never recall a time where the relatively demure Quatre had sworn.
“What is it?”
“We have to get out of here! Check your sensors!”
Duo stared with an almost uncomprehending expressionn at the many enemy carriers. There were WAY too many to take on at once. He reacted, punching in evasive maneuvers. He shouted into the com, trying to convey the urgency that they all –MOVE-.
“Okay! Time to move out now! Heero, you hear me?!”
“Nimu Ryuokai”
“ I don’t like that answer, we have to move, we’re going to get slaughtered!”
“Zero will tell me what to do.”
Trowa stared with shock that did not show on his face as the massive amount of dolls staring at him through unseeing eyes. His most primal instincts screamed at him to run unashamedly, because this time the fates were stacked so high against him that he would be sure to crash. Yet something else warned him to stay.
Heero mentally did some planning. He wasn’t going to give up, not yet. It went against his training and his very soul to simply yield. He refused to do it. He knew he could find some way to make it out alive. It was time; with a calm demeanor he punched in the four letter code to activate the ZERO system. He didn’t even blink as Wing fed the information directly to him, analyzing, searching for a route leading to victory. When the torrent of information stopped he found himself very cold. The ETA of the oncoming forces was only minutes away. He and possibly Deathscythe would be able to make it out, but the others would not. He wouldn’t desert them. It would have been so much different were they not all exhausted. Then perhaps Quatre could move the other three Gundams out, but as it was the little Arab was operating on his most basic level: in survival mode. Quatre came on screen, his eyes pleading.
“Heero! What the hell are you doing? Get out!”
“No.”
“But-“
“No” Heero fixed Quatre with his trademark glare, the one from before awakening, very clearly communicating the fact that he was going nowhere. Quatre sighed and then smiled.
“Good hunting Heero.”
“The same.”
Trowa shifted impatiently in his seat. He had known in the core of his being that there was more to come than had first been apparent. Now they were completely surrounded. With a slow exhalation he let all of the air escape from his lungs. Something heavy weighted on his heart. Many times before he had faced the prospect of dying, yet never before had it seemed to ominous. Perhaps it was the fact that he finally had something to live for, in the form of a small, fragile looking Arabian boy.
Duo sighed and flipped on his com for the umpteenth time that day. “Heero you still alive?”
“Hn”
“What’s happened in the past few years? I mean, before with soldiers it used to be: you see me and my life is yours, yet I see you and your life is mine. Everything’s different now because there are no eyes staring back to meet yours. Just machines.”
Silence followed for a moment then Heero replied; sounding strangely disjointed and confused.
“Ah shiteru Duo.”
“What? Heero, don’t speak Japanese, you know that I can’t understand you!!”
Duo was very annoyed at his partner’s slight transgression. Usually Japaese wouldn’t bother him that much, because he could translate whatever had been said in Heero’s mind. Yet he wasn’t close enough to the other boy to do that right then and most likely Heero wouldn’t just flat out tell him. The Wing pilot almost never slipped into his native language except when extremely agitated. It was odd that he would address him in Japanese when fairly calm. Duo was given no more time to ponder, because with a blast from Heero’s BFG, the battle started once again in earnest.
Blood and sweat worked slowly down Quatre’s cheeks to drop down onto a console that until recently had been fairly clean. His breaths came in small, jagged gasps and pants. The sheer amount of mechs that they were fighting was impossible. He’d lost sight of both Deathscythe and Wing Zero fifteen minutes ago and hadn’t heard back from them yet. Altron was fighting on it’s own. Quatre had nicknamed Wufei ‘the lonely dragon’ in his mind simple because of Wufei’s solitary tendancies. He hadn’t heard from Trowa in over a half-an-hour. Last time he had checked Trowa had been out of ammo. He was having a hard time keeping up with the sheer amount of machines coming after him. His young mind was having trouble coping. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes and his mouth was drawn into a straight, tight line.
A voice broke through the silence and static. “Quatre, pay attention! You’ve got three on your left!”
Quatre smiled, thanking Allah for best friends. Yet he couldn’t watch his left. The sensor array on that side of Sandrock was completely dead. He extended his battered and abused psyche as much as he could, trying to feel out what he needed to do.
“Thanks Trowa!”
Duo stared at the highlighted self-destruct button flashing on his console. Deathscythe knew as well as he did that their battle was futile. Yet he wouldn’t give up, not yet. Not while he could still move and fight. His violet eyes sparking their defiance Duo Maxwell moved with his Gundam, feeling something of what Heero did with Wing. They would have to kill him before they caught him! From a quick scan of his weapons inventory he concluded that he was completely out of any sort of long range weapon. He couldn’t be captured and in that he could not fail, the colonies and the Earth knew his face. He couldn’t risk letting them have him. One quick look out the port showed him a sea of machines, all hell bent on his capture or destruction; and not necessarily in that order.
With a quick burst of pressure to his throttle Deathscythe swung out in a graceful and deadly arch and cleft a line of mechs in half, blinding him with their fiery deaths. He spun around to face the next group. His voice came out in a low, predatory growl.
“FINE! You’re so intent on my soul? THEN COME WITH ME----ON MY JOURNEY INTO HELL!!”
Heero growled, he was running low on everything. His muscles were screaming from where Zero ran through them and every now and then his vision blurred. He hadn’t seen Heavyarms or Sandrock in over an hour. He had gotten isolated from the group. He was smarter than that! How had he allowed this to happen? The answer to his question was fairly simple: he had let himself get tired. All of those nights spent together with Duo, moving through his mind while the Deathscythe pilot slept should have been slept through by him as well. And now he was paying for it. He regretted only one thing deeply. With a deep sigh he sat up straight in his seat. The calm that had seeped into his mind earlier finished voyage completely into his mind, filling him with the resolution that he needed. Capture at this stage in the game was not an option.
He smiled, almost a sad gesture and hit the com, sending something back to base and into Duo’s quarters. He closed his eyes, hands still on the throttles and smiled.
Duo snapped back into awareness when a huge explosion rocked the area.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”
Static was all that he heard. For an awful instant it occurred to him that the others had been killed. He woudn’t accept that. Through a mass of static he heard Wufei come back.
“Some---big explod----don’t know what th----uck is going on.”
Duo smiled with relief. “I hear that Wu-man!” Even while the fact that Wufei was alive gladdened him, a cold certainty that something really bad had happened settled into his stomach comfortably.
Quatre let out a small, strangled sigh as something more hit his overtaxed brain. Someone had just died. Either died or had been seriously injured. Some days it just wasn’t worth getting out of bed; this particular day qualified as one of those days.
“Quatre? You still with us?”
“Uh----huh--" Quatre managed to reply through strangled gasps for air.
“Some day’s it’s just not worth chewing through the restraints y’know?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Say, you haven’t heard from Heero recently have you? It’s been an hour.”
“Sorry, couldn’t say that I have.”
Trowa smiled with resignation. Of all the days. Out of habit he clutched his throttles just a little bit harder, trying to glean performance out of his mech. For once Heavyarms had nothing more to give him. Off to his left Sandrock was still fighting. Honestly he would have thought that Quatre would have tired first. Yet it was not so, the little pilot had far surpassed expectations.
“Ah dear Quatre.”
A large group of carriers was advancing on his position. Everything seemed to be lost. Then he noted the little flashing light on his console.
“---me in! This is Howard on Peacemillion!”
He punched the button with so much that his palm bled.
“Heavyarms over! When can you get here?”
“Thank God! I thought you were already dead. With support fifteen more minutes.”
“That’s acceptable, but move!”
“Rodger, Howard out.”
Trowa flipped on the broadband with exuberance filling him to the core. “Howard’s on his way with backup!”
There were several hysterical cheers from his fellow pilots at that news, especially from Duo. Then the Deathscythe pilot’s tired voice broke through the com again.
“What’s their ETA?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
The fifteen minutes seemed like fifteen separate eternities in hell for each of the boys. As it seemed as if it were never to end the great white, hulking thing that was Peacemillion came into view and the dolls acquired a new target. The big white ship was a hell of a ways away, but still it was enough.
Trowa continued to watch the field and his breath caught in his throat. Even with fire support only the faster ones would get out. If his sensor readings were correct there was a big device set to blow very soon. His low growl of anger turned into a shout. She had planned this all! It was a bloody trap for Peacemillion. He hit the com channel between the Gundams.
“There’s an explosive in the area massive enough to disable Peacemillion entirely. It was a trap to lure it here. I’m betting there’s backup waiting somewhere it’s a trap. Everyone get to the ship and let’s run like hell!”
Quatre’s strained and tired voice echoed through the static, making him sound like a ghost caught between worlds. “The dolls need a target otherwise they’ll follow.”
As Trowa heard the fatigue in his voice, felt his distress in (his) heart, his discussion was made for him.
“Don’t worry, there’s a squad that’s willing to pull a kamakaze for
us. We just have to get to Peacemillion.” It was as blatant a lie
as Trowa had ever told his little lover. Yet lies masked as truth were
the best when stated in times where truth was more the expected. Trowa
smiled at him and clicked off, keeping the memory of his smiling face imprinted
in his memory.
All of the Gundams were faster than Heavyarms, and so it was
a given that it was supposed to lag a little bit. As Quatre R. Winner looked
back on his lover’s Gundam that day he could see the familiar aura of one
destined to die honorably shining through the cockpit. As he tried to scramble
back out of the hangar he remembered the same glow in Trowa’s eyes just
moments before.
“Nonononononono!!!”
Duo and Wufei exited their gundams wondering what in hell was
taking Trowa so long and why Quatre was sobbing, and then it happened.
The Gundam housing the clown of many faces indeed collapsed outward in
a surge of power. All of the surrounding mechs in the vicinity were demolished,
preventing further damage to the Peacemillion. It was true about the large
explosive set. The whole battle had been a trap. Yet the trap and trick
didn’t matter to the little blond Arab who was plastered against the nearest
window, staring back at their previous location with the look of one completely
shattered. Shortly thereafter he fell down the wall, sliding down slowly
and clutching his heart, hysterically crying, and gasping as if he were
dying. Duo and Wufei, in rather catatonic states after that had carried
Quatre to a couch and let him cry himself unconscious.
Something hit Duo as he sat there on the couch. Quatre was across from
them, curled up into a tiny ball, his luminous blue eyes shining with complete
and utter distress. He looked over to Wufei who was sitting there and stroking
a hand through the blonde boy’s hair, trying to sooth him into some sense
of stability.
“Something occurs to my pyro…..Heero never got back either.”
Wufei wasn’t going to sugar coat things for the little demon sitting across from him. Duo understood already, he just had to confirm to make sure that he was correct.
“No, that Wing did not.”
“Is he still out there Wufei?”
Wufei stretched his fragile and very strained mind as far as he could make it go, desperately searching for any trace of the Wing pilot. When he opened his eyes the somber expression in his eyes was immediately picked up by Duo.
“He’s not…..oh he’s not is he.”
Wufei was confused out of his mind as to why Duo would be laughing at a time like this. When he looked at Maxwell in a spiritual sense, every sense that he had told him that there was something very wrong with the picture, and yet Duo grinned like an idiot. After the unnaturally calm reception of possibly the worst news of his entire life Duo grinned over at Wufei.
“And then there were three. You realize that Heero broke a promise to me?”
Wufei shook his head, his onyx eyes glittering with unshed tears. He was almost more upset by the way that Duo was acting than anything else. When he took his hand away from Quatre’s head to rise up Quatre grabbed his hand fiercely, trying to hold onto something. Duo looked at him and spoke in a voice that was uncharacteristically solemn and to the point.
“Trowa was his focusing point. He’s lost that and now he’s extremely disoriented in every sense of the word. I think you had ought to stay with him for a little while until he can walk straight.”
Duo smiled and took a deep breath. “I don’t know about you pyro, but I’m going to take a shower and go to sleep.”
Wufei blinked and picked up Quatre. The task wasn’t that difficult,
the boy was tiny. He looked down into the vacant blue eyes and spoke aloud,
“What’s happened to Duo?”
(to be continued)
Keeper of Duo's Bloody Nightmares
Keeper of Duo's really bad migraines
Another occupant of the happy hentai house
Computer Caretaker of the Shinigami organization.
The Shinigami Organization
www.ShinigamiOrg.homestead.com/index.html
The only mob dedicated to Shinigami
ICQ me at #82315185
See the art of the insanity that is the story?
White Reflection (my yaoi nook)
http://www.fortunecity.com/marina/tripcock/835/index.html
(Heero will show you in)
