Bullets and Barrels Part: three (I think... counts... teaser... one...
Warnings: AU!!! "
Disclaimers: The Redstar" is not mine!!!!!!! And seeing that a good ton
of the technology is form them, as well as the magic/technology blend,
I thought I should put that here. I think everyone should go out and read
it, it is AMAZING!!! GW is not mine, it never was, it never will be. I
am making NO money of off this, I am poor, and have no money, so please
don't sue. No Yaoi yet, and I swear, this is NOT a 1+5. It is a 1+2/2+1,
and maybe a lemon later, if I can actually write one. * falls over *
Notes: Well, here we go... more stuff. More writing. Although I must send
this one to Brighnasa who has been poking and prodding for a new part.
I would also like to thank SteelSong (www.steelsong.com), who has put
this story up on her amazing page, thank you!!!! More thanks and hugs
go to all the amazing people that commented, and are forcing these parts
out. * satisfied sigh* I have written the most annoying part of them all...
THIS ONE! Well... I think. Also, the ship design for Deathscythe Hell
is up on my page, in the fanart section. If you go there *poke * sign
my guest book? So that it does not look so lonely.
Bullets and Barrels +
I was nine. Smart kid. Or at
very least, smart enough to put two and two together and get four. Not
smart enough to figure out that I was wild.
My identity struck me in the
middle of the night, when the alarms on- colony started going off. The
blasted things were the only things on L2 that did NOT malfunction, and
their sole reason for existing was to protect the populace from the Wilds-menace.
Of course, you know that it is as much a load of bullshit as I do. No
Wild fries themselves on purpose. By nature, most Wilds are happy with
their lives, and relatively optimistic, before they hit maturity, then
they just fry themselves.
So back to the wonder of the
alarm system. I had just woken from a nasty nightmare, to the sound of
the alarms simply blaring. I freaked out, being one of the many sheep
who had been indoctrinated with the "Wild = bad" ideal. So I started filing
down into the bunkers, I was panicky, and the alarms were blaring louder
and louder. They get noisier as the Wild gets unstable.
Some kid from my gang, grabbed
my arm, and started pulling me off to the side. Couldn't figure out why
the hell he was pulling me from safety, so I panicked more. Now, I dunno,
but I was never the hot head, never the one to loose cool in any situation,
years on the street do that to a guy. So you can see just how out of character
this was for me.
I imagine that is what all the
girls who hit puberty, in my mostly male gang, felt like. I mean, they
wake up one morning... and hello... what the HELL?
Beside the point.
So this kid pulls me from the
streets, and into one of the buildings. Let me rephrase that, he pulls
me off the streets, and into a broken-in building, one that he himself
had broken into. He throws me into a shower, and starts the water cold.
I felt as if my skin was trying
And for the life of my I could
not figure out why the Hell the room was steaming up so fast. Why the
water was burning his skin off even as it froze mine.
Wild 098 B3A aka. Duo Maxwell.
His eyes opened. The light in the room was as stark as he remembered it,
the small prison reeking of his capture, and failure.
Nevertheless, the bindings were gone.
In the end.
It was that which had awoken him.
The feeling of freedom, the thought of death.
He pulled out from beneath the thick covers, allowing his cloth- covered
legs to hit the cold floor, standing, he stretched gingerly, listening
to the bones in his back pop and crack. Luckily his skin had decided not
to follow suit. He smelled of something unfamiliar. A cloying scent of
oranges, seemed to radiate from his skin, a salve leaving behind a oily
residue. He shuddered involuntarily, as he touched his fingers to his
face, and felt the slickness there. The again, he was now able to identify
the reason for his skin's rather pleasing behavior.
He needed a shower.
Actually, he needed to eat first.
His stomach was a hard knot somewhere in his middle. And his vision was
spinning. Somewhere in front of him he could recognize a door, he headed
"You aren't going to try to destroy the ship again, are you?"
He stopped, turning slowly to view a man sitting on the chair to his bed's
right. How he had not noticed him, he did not know.
He was. Fascinating. Long black hair hung around his shoulders, falling
into his pale face, obscuring his flawless skin. And yet, for all of the
perfection, he still flaunted the energy signature of a weapon.
A highly unstable one.
The man before him looked nothing of the boy whose picture had flashed
briefly in the black-ops files. Nothing. The buzz cut was gone, as was
the gentle smile.
The boy had been diagnosed.
They had hoped to cure him and his wife.
They had failed.
The price of war.
His lips were thin, and his hands were folded over his lap, his entire
body covered in thick white leather, blue straps connecting the various
sections of the sorcerer's armor. Large blue beads shone dully from beneath
a thin layer of the skin on his neck. The ineffective power stabilizers
flaunted with a masochistic sense of pride, the collar of the armor sliced
open at their location.
"Duo is in the kitchen, if you want to meet him there. He suggested that
I check on you. Relena has too much of a knack for obsessions, and the
rest of the crew wants to throw you into raw space. You have very few
"Aa." Heero's voice ran cool in the room. The other man grinned and stood.
Surprisingly, he was a full head shorter then Heero. And yet, his power
radiated around him, his authority amplifying that which was already natural
to his species.
He seemed so much more impossible.
So much more grand.
"The shower is the door to your left, the exit from this room is the door
in front. If you attempt anything, I will make sure that Dorothy gets
her hands on you before you are executed." A smile flitted over the other's
tin lips, as the Chinese man brushed his onyx hair from his face. "I don't
know, but you don't seem the type to enjoy her games." With a sharp laugh
he exited the room, his robes swishing on the ground.
Heero licked his lips, nervously, walking up to the door of the room.
Pressing his hand against the cold metal, he was startled as it pulled
back, opening to a brightly lit hallway. He had half believed that man
to be lying. He poked his head outside, before stepping into the cold
"Yuy, take a shower, you stink. Then find the kitchens."
He whipped around to find the Wild leaning against the wall to his right.
"How are you doing that?"
Another sharp laugh, the man shook his head, before heading down the corridor.
"Ask Maxwell, it is his trick."
He swore, before stepping back into the room, and heading for the shower.
Chang was correct, he did stink.
There are many uses, many protocols
that the sorceresses learn, and can use. Specific protocols, such as the
Healer protocol, can only be used by specialists, attack protocols by
the powerful classes 0- 2. There are no known female class Zero Sorceresses,
although, in total approximately three such males exist. They are Heero
Yuy, Millardo Peacecraft, and Trowa Barton. Of the three, Heero Yuy, the
pupil of Doctor J, has shown most promise. He is currently at the highest
recorded hit value, having used the Main Attack protocol over 800 times.
This number is unheard of for Sorceresses, let alone their male counterparts.
Trowa Barton is no longer capable of the Main Attack mode. The reasons
for his inability remain government secrets, and will be released in thirty
years. Millardo Peacecraft, the oldest of the three, but also the newest
to the field, has not returned to his post since the death of his sister,
Relena Peacecraft, upon Heavyarms, in battle 557B4, fought on April 12th
Captain Q. R. Winner,
Pure Blood Human
Captain of Wing Zero
Engineer: Class Zero
He did find the kitchen, eventually. It had taken nearly and hour, but
in that time he had seen nothing of exceptional merit within the ship.
He found himself uneasy, more often then not, feeling as if his choices
were already made, and his directions chosen for him. Infuriated, he had
attempted to go against gut instinct, only to find that these nuances
in his personality were also accounted for, and he was on his way... somewhere.
Twice he had heard the sound of a woman's laughter, both times, he had
As for the kitchen, because for some reason or other, he knew that it
was the kitchen, even before stepping through the nondescript metallic
door, it was mundane at best. The counter tops were white and spotless,
as were the walls and floors. On one side of a long table sat Shinigami,
his hair loosely braided at his back, his nose scrunched up as he poured
over information at his laptop. Scrawled- on paper scattered the floor
and a sizable part of the table he sat at. He glanced up at Heero, gave
him a brief wave, and turned back to his work.
"There is food in the fridge. This is one of one hundred kitchens on this
ship, they all look the same, and have the same food. We are out of fresh
anything, and are docking in five days, there will be more selection then.
Not that it matters, you will be on... " he stopped, his eyes tracking
the something on the screen of his laptop.
His body relaxed against the chair, even as Heero walked over to him,
silently looking at the information that scrolled across the screen, unable
to make sense of the encryption, which Duo read like a second language.
"... what kind of shitty name is that anyway? Damn, the ship is called
Romafeller 3. God, some people have no creativity. Aaaanyway. That is
about it. Having you here with us has been something else, Yuy, I hope
never again to have the pleasure."
Heero raised a brow, before walking over to the fridge, and finding something
which promised to be meat, but fell short of actually tasting it. He ate
it, the food cardboard flavored on his tongue.
Or maybe that was just the anxiety. He turned to watch the braided man
again. He had tried to kill him, very nearly succeeded, and the man was
cheerfully prattling off damage reports to him.
Damage which he himself had inflicted, but inconsequential at best. Heero
sighed, and poked his fork back into the imitation meat, before casting
another glance at the Wild, who had since stopped talking, and was watching
Heero attempt to eat the meat.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to let me go."
"Right. And what do you want to eat?"
Heero stared at the other, as Duo grinned like mad.
"Something Fresh, I guess."
"Better then a sardine and whipped cream sandwich."
"Relena's choice of nourishment after battle. But then again, the girl
is psychotic at best."
Heero nodded lightly, watching the other man, finding that he no longer
really needed to look at him to see the light scars, the wide eyes, and
high cheekbones. His wide grin was etched somewhere within his memory,
as were his hands, the long dexterous fingers splayed against the cold
counter of the table. Duo Maxwell was ingrained in his memory, and not
as a face and body to identify, at least not one to identify for police
records. For some reason, the warmth his body radiated, and the aura which
poured from his skin, and beat like some sort of invisible organ, all
of this was hidden with him most prized memories, the thoughts that made
him safe. He had little doubt that the Wild was trained to be this way.
"Don't try to befriend me, seduce me, or gain control over me. You are
good, I will grant you that much. But I am not an idiot, and I will not
treat you as one."
He watched as the smile disappeared off of Duo's face, and his soft lips
bent themselves into a frown, his eyes were hidden beneath the jagged
fall of his bangs, only his hands clenched tight against the table gave
away the extent of his anger.
"I am what I am Yuy, and if most of that happens to be training, then
I guess I was truly the apt pupil."
It turned out that I hit a reaction
phase. It is one of the lowest for the Wilds. So I was lucky, didn't hit
full-blown maturity all at once, and was saved by a kid I thought was
dumb as a board (not that I would ever tell him, or anyone else that).
The kid kinda freaked me out, he pulled me off colony, and we hid out
in a ship for a while. The got caught by G. G was pleased as all hell,
simply because I had not only turned up, all pretty and Wild, but I had
brought back O's main experiment. Wufei Chang. 17 years of age, and looked
8. Wufei Chang, whose energy stabilizers went ballistic the moment that
I hit full maturity. They fried his neck, they fried most of me, and they
fried G's face. Then I tried to take care of the rest of the ship all
I was setting air on fire by
then. Starting the rather nasty fusion reaction that Wilds are notorious
Well, it turns out that G was
expecting a Wild, so he just-so- happened to have a big ass pool of coolant
laying around. Which is were `fei and I found ourselves seconds later.
His energy stabilizers fell apart, and he hit full maturity right there
It was great.
It was really really bad. I
mean, this was the worst bad that you can get without the universe going
Apocalypse on you.
We evaporated the coolant.
The poured more on us.
That evaporated before it hit
Wufei, of all people, managed
to stabilize us, about three minutes before we could put a hole in the
outer hull of the ship.
I did mention that G is not
idiot enough to put a pool like that anywhere close to the hull... right?
I did mention that we WERE in the middle of the ship when this started?
Well, anyway, G isn't that big
on playing with genetics and machines, so he just taught me how to control
what I had in me. He babbled nonsense about it working for normal sorcerers,
although they don't go nuts. There was no hope for Wufei who physically
went 8 years to17 in about thirty seconds. The stabilizers were blown
to hell, so G built me a ship for the hell of it, babbling something about
liberating the colonies and getting revenge. I caught the revenge part,
anyway. Big ship, lots of I-field generators, and one Wufei Chang later,
Deathscythe, was a big bad warship. Well, until it blew up on us (faulty
Deathscythe Hell, is a bigger
Class Zero Sorcerer (unregistered)
Heero stared own at his meal, he felt as Duo stood from the table, and
walked towards one of the cupboards, could hear the swish of soft cotton
pants against the cold marble floor. The sound of bare feet slapping against
it as Duo purposely moved with sound, so not to startle him. He was surprised,
however, by a glass of orange liquid which found its way onto the table
"Orange juice, closest thing I can come to a fresh fruit. All for you,
Yuy. Drink it, and leave me and my devices to hell alone."
"Remember, you started this conversation."
"And I just ended it." He stood stiffly from the table, his fingers grasping
at the computer, which he shut with unnecessary force, as he began to
walk from the kitchen. He never made it. Heero's hand closed over his
wrist, tugging him back to the counter.
"Why did you bother to steal me? Why bother to befriend me?"
Duo looked to the floor, the familiar smile stretching upon his mouth,
and yet his eyes remained hidden beneath the fringe of bangs. Heero reached
up, smoothing them away from the other's face, gently tucking the longer
strands behind his ears.
"That is why, you are not all weapon."
Heero smirked, letting go of the other's hand, allowing his hands to drop
back into his lap. "I realize. I realize every time I look in the mirror,
and think of those that I kill. A true weapon has no remorse. I do. Maxwell,
you underestimate me."
"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I already know that you are smarter then you
let anyone think, maybe I am naïve to it, but it does not change
one fact. You are perfect."
Heero took in a deep breath, letting the other man pass, letting him leave
the room. He stared at the orange juice sitting in the glass, at the crumbs
on the table, and the papers scattered on the floor. He focused on the
warmth of the room, which could not permeate the thick shell of ice that
had just lodged itself onto his skin, as he shivered.
He exhaled sharply, his breath displacing the crumbs on the counter. The
I-field around him flexed once. Twice. Then resided, noting that the rise
in body temperature was not due to impending attack.
Two people knew just how perfect he was.
One was dead.
The other sat at a table, imprisoned upon the ship Deathscythe, losing
a strategy-game to Death.
[part 2] [part 4]
[back to Singles l - z]