Demons in Our Midst

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing! I do love it to the point of obsession, and wish I did own it. . . oh well, I guess I'll have to settle for playing with the characters! Anyway, this fic is the only thing I own, plus a couple of original characters, the plot, and my computer!

Shouri: Yay! The first ficcy that's just my Uma-chan and me!

Shouri glomps onto the girl who is in the writing room with her, sitting at the crescent-shaped desk and working on a computer that was nowhere in evidence the last time Shouri used the room, with her chibi friend Iwa. The girl, presumably Uma-chan, is about 5' 7" and has a gentle, good-natured look to her that makes her slightly resemble Shouri, despite the many physical differences. Her bangs fluff over her forehead, and some longer strands frame the sides of her face with thin, wild curls. The rest of her golden brown mane is held in a slightly fuzzy braid that reaches all the way down past her butt. She smiles down at Shouri, her blue-gray eyes sparkling. Shouri giggles and smoothes the wrinkles she made in Uma-chan's horse T-shirt. The white horse on the front vaguely resembles a realistic version of Shouri in animal mode, and stands out noticeably against the black background.

Uma-chan: I'm glad you don't mind helping me out. . . this one is gonna be the longest fic I've ever written!

Shouri looks slightly less enthusiastic, but then again, chibis don't generally like sitting still too long. . .

Shouri: So, what are we doing?

Uma-chan: An Alternate Universe for Gundam Wing!

Shouri: Yay! I like the Gundam people! Did you hear what Wufei and Iwa did to the cantina?!

Uma-chan: Yea, Shouri, I heard. . . made quite the mess didn't they?

Shouri giggles as Uma-chan's eyes sparkle with wicked humor. it makes people wonder what exactly 'inspired' Shouri to write that fic with Iwa. . .Uma-chan returns to typing away on the computer, and Shouri bounces up onto the couch in front of the desk to look out the window screen into the swirling streams of the Internet and the Web.

Shouri: I hope you guys like this one!. . . now I just need to find a way to stay awake until it's finished. . .

Prologue: Fallen Holy Ground

The air is hazy with smoke, filled with terror-filled cries of agony and panic. One tiny figure scampers frantically through the scattered remains of the old church's pews, choking on the thick air. Wide, frightened eyes search the empty room, glittering with violet light as they reflect the fire.

"Father Maxwell! Father Maxwell! Father?!" He stumbles and falls to his knees with a cry of fear, his long loose hair cascading over his shoulder, half freed from its confining braid. The cries of pain and fear suddenly rise in a cacophony of shrieks, drowning out even the roar of the fire that is swiftly consuming the building. And then there is utter silence.

His eyes widen further, darting around him. A soft sibilant whisper hisses in his ear, and he whips his head around in terror. The room is graying. The smoke seems to be bleeding its color into the red of the fire and the earthy tones of the tapestries covering the walls. Everything fades into gray, he gasps for breath, quivering in shock, waiting for the death that waits when he succumbs to unconsciousness. . . but the room continues to dance before his clear eyes.

A sickening smell fills the air, overriding the scent of smoke and burning flesh, cloyingly sweet like death and decay. A nonexistent wind sweeps his skin, stealing the breath from his lips. A sinister voice murmurs half- heard words in a tongue he has never heard before.

In the shaded world of gray that is all he sees, there is suddenly a flicker of color, and he shivers despite the heat that bathes him. Through the hazy smoke he can see almost all the way to the front of the church, and he can see movement behind the alter.a hand appears from under a nearby pew, and his heart nearly stops as he whirls. A pained pair of eyes stares out at him from a pale white face, framed in disarrayed hair that should be honeyed brown, not silver gray.

"Sister. . . Sister Helen. . . " His rough slurred whisper sounds loud in the unnatural silence, and the nun pulls frantically at his small hands, choking. His eyes widen at the dark stains that mark her skin. She coughs, and more blood slides down across her cheek. She chokes again and drags him closer, clasping something into his tiny hand and pulling him close till his face is near hers.

"Du. . . Duo. . . run. . . run! Now! Get out before it's too late! Please, get away!" Something in her strained voice chills him to the core, and he clenches his fist around the silver cross she had pressed into his hand. She suddenly shoves him away and somehow gets enough breath into her rattling lungs to scream.

"RUN! RUN!" The sinister whispering stills, and Duo's body moves without his will as he backs away. Movement attracts his eye, and he whirls to stare in horror at the front of the church. Stark and vivid against the gray, a twisted figure stares back at him through the smoke, shadowed with a sickening yellow miasma. Two glowing orbs lock on him from out of the face of a monster. Skeletal looking and ungainly, the creature hisses loudly through its jagged bloody teeth.

The creature is crouched atop the rough alter, and Duo gags, nearly vomiting at the sight of what lays at its huge clawed feet. Staring lifeless eyes reflect the horrid yellow glow, kind face contorted in a horrible rictus of pain, lays the mangled shredded form of the priest. The beast's clawed hands rise slowly from their sheath in the dead man's chest.

With a choked whimper of disgust and terror, Duo whirls and breaks into a staggering, panicked run for the half collapsed front door. An ear- splitting inhuman shriek sounds behind him, and he hears Sister Helen yelling again, screaming at him to run faster.

He shoves his skinny form through the gap between the doors, wriggling to free himself and leaving behind a layer of skin in his desperation. Then he is running away as fast as his legs can carry him despite the voice in his mind screaming at him to stop, to go back, that he couldn't leave Sister Helen. But his body refused to stop, even when Sister's voice ceased to urge him on, and instead rose in a shriek of agony that is cut abruptly short.

His exhausted body finally slows from its panicked flight, incapable of carrying him any further. With horror and grief radiating from his face, he turns slowly, still trapped in this new shadowed world, to stare in shock at distant billowing smoke and dancing blood red flames that are swallowing up the only home he has ever known. . .

Uma: See? That wasn't so bad!

Shouri prances in place.

Shouri: You mean we're done!?!

Uma sweatdrops.

Uma: Only the prologue, Shouri. . . this is gonna be a long task, isn't it. . .

Uma sighs, and shuts down the computer with a wave of her hand. Then, as she stands, the smooth bluish gray surface of the machine melts into a coat of velvety fur and the computer becomes a squat creature with the crocodilian head, almost dinosaur shaped body, and iridescent pearly pastel ruff running from the middle of his forehead to the tip of his tail, and ruffling at his elbows and under his jaw, known as a computer beast. He tilts his head to one side to let his little otter-like ears come into better use and grunts a questioning sound as he hops off of the desk. Shouri squeals happily and drops to her knees to hug him and scratch behind his ears.

Shouri: Compy!

Uma: Thanks for the help Compy. . . I'll let you know when I'm ready to start the next chapter. . . Please, Review! I got a lot done, and it's just waiting to go up, so tell me what you think while I work on that! Tankiwa!