By SRSilverhawk
Disclaimer: Alright, I already know I don't own Gundam Wing, and I especially don't own Duo Maxwell- tender little tart o'goodness that he is- they both belong to their oh so wonderful Japanese creator. Also, this fic is a side-story to the prank-filled clone epic "I Hate Americans," which was written by the author known as Mieren. This story is being written with her full permission and support. However, you won't have any idea of what this fic is about unless you read that story first. Go read that one then come back here, when you've done that, enjoy the fic.
Chapter 1: Insubordinate Behavior
Training Center VIII: Chikara Division
Africa, Earth
12 February, AC. 185There was a pause, a slight twitch of an eyebrow. She frowned darkly. "Stop smiling at me." 934 growled.
"Was not smiling at you." 897 replied with deceptive coolness. "I was just smiling, that's all."
"You lie." 934 sat up bolt straight, glowering at her sibling.
897's eyes narrowed. "I never lie, you lie." His voice did not rise so much as an octave, it was still calm, restrained and grinding further on 934's painfully short nerves.
"You call me a liar?!" 934 was positively bristling now.
"You are a liar for a calling me a liar, and anyway you said it first, not me!"
"He called me a liar again!" She turned to address the rest of the division, most of whom where tired from their morning training session and resting on their cots. "You all heard that, right?" She asked of them.
1022 slid one eye open and regarded both 934 and 897 with calm formality for a moment. "Stop fighting, you two."
"Just answer the question, idiot." 934 yelled, directing her full attention to 1022, having becoming frustrated at the lack of attention her siblings were paying to the situation.
Ordinarily, 1022 was, in truth, the mildest and most pacifist member of the entire Chikara division. She was forever cool and calculating, but only to within a certain boundary, once that line was crossed she became a fair berserker, especially with the other female members of her group.
934 had just jumped clear over 1022's line of tolerance.
1022's pale purple eyes narrowed to thin slits, she had been lying at the edge of her cot, looking spectacularly lazy, but in one swift blur of motion she sprung up and charged at 934, 897 slipped his body between the two to head off the melee he knew would happen if 1022 and 934 laid so much as a finger on each other.
"If she wants a fight, and I know she does, she gets to fight with me." He said, in that infuriatingly easy voice of his.
"No. Me!" 1022 snapped.
The others in the division watched, most grumbling but otherwise taking no part in what was just another squabble in many. However, some were enjoying the show, 1031, for example, was even goading them on under his breath.
897 soothed 1022's ire, a talent only he possessed, and turned back to face 934, who was shifting her weight back and forth restlessly, eagerness to fight clear in her amethyst eyes, eyes which were an exact duplicate of 897's, just as most, if not all, of 934 and 897's features where identical. The two main traits that were completely shared among all of the Chikara division.
"Okay, a fight you want, a fight you get. Just you and me." 897, loosing a deliberate cheerful smile at his duplicate.
934 hated 897 and his insulting cheerfulness. He smiled too much for her tastes. But he wouldn't be smiling for long, she thought as she turned and walked out of their barracks, not after she ground his face into the dirt for a while. Oh, no he would definitely not be smiling then. She opened the door and walked outside into the warm, continental air, she heard 897 follow behind her and a moment later the door closing, though she didn't once turn back to look. As she had been trained, 934 thought only of what she would plan to do to her sibling.
That she, herself, didn't know how to smile was one reason 934 particularly hated 897's habit of doing so, which he only displayed when the scientists and trainers' backs were turned. In her early days, fresh out of the tube where she had gestated, 934 might have smiled, might have smiled a lot. She had vague and fading memories of being tended by a woman who took no pleasure in her work tending to her and the thousand siblings that were with her. Highly skilled and well trained herself, the nanny (as she and others who filled a similar role had mockingly been termed) had been more than efficient at supplying their nutritional needs and seeing to it that their motor skills developed as quickly and as smoothly as possible. Past that, the nanny never had need or cause to even acknowledge or respond to any 'normal' human behavior those in 934's group had shown. With no reaction to reward their babyish behavior, the synapses within the infants' brains, in particular those which held the directions for eliciting maternal care that instinct and evolution had drilled into every newborn's mind, withered and died, leaving the infants without much sense of empathy or the basic emotions of joy and warmth. Most of them essentially became emotional vegetables, unable to comprehend shows of emotion and in general becoming highly irritated by them.
They had been taken away from the nannies as a whole and then separated into nine separate divisions soon after; later, each division was assigned to their own training center. All to be observed, tested, measured and constantly watched by a battery of scientists, military brass and instructors for a purpose that had yet to be clearly defined to any of the children.
There was only one chief instructor who was keeping a level eye on the Chikara group at the moment. That instructor's name was Julius, a soldier-turned-drill sergeant who was spending the latter part of his military career in charge of training them. His task was to build up the division's physical skills and begin rudimentary teaching in the group's signature talents. Later, those that survived the basic program would be turned over to yet another group, the high level instructors, who would fine-tune and add onto all of the basic and medium skills he would teach, and would formally train the division to their allotted niches. However, that was for long in the future, and that time would not be for another seven years or so. For now, Julius would have the Chikara division all to himself.
Julius was watching what went on in the main courtyard where 879 and 934 were headed, through hard blue eyes. If there was one thing that he, personally, was supposed to deal with in particular with these living weapons it was to see that none of them killed each other. He abandoned the rest of the Chikara-division instructors, who were in the midst of setting up the next batch of weight training dummies for the division's afternoon training session.
Another thing 934 hated about 897 was that he was a half-inch taller than her. 934, already first in the intelligence tests and physical ability, intended to be first in everything and be on top of everyone. That being her goal, 934 also did not want anyone to be taller than her either. Or broader shouldered (1084 was starting to rapidly gain on her there), or a faster runner (1002 could out-sprint everyone, but even he couldn't beat her in long distance running), or even wield a weapon with greater skill than herself, something that 880 did with such skill and supple grace that his abnormally low strength was actually being overlooked by the scientists and 934 both dreaded having to spar with him and doubted that she'd ever catch up.
However, in nearly all of the basic training exercises 934 was the best. When the time came for her to finally test out and move up to the higher levels of her training she fully intended to kill any sibling who was set against her. She was going to be the best and the others would either deal with that fact or go to hell in her opinion.
She personally preferred the latter option.
934 and 897 took their positions three yards apart from each other inside a dusty ring, not far from the barracks. 897 not only kept his infuriating grin but also had the temerity to bow in such a way that it seemed to 934 to be perfectly sarcastic. The bow caused a short burst of muffled laughter from 1022, which 934 noticed was leaning against the wall of the Chikara barracks, the only member of the division who had been amused sufficiently to come out and watch.
"I'll take care of you later." 934 growled in 1022's direction. Again 1022's bile rose to a boil and 897 was forced to wave her off.
After waving off his friend, 897 dropped down and rushed 934. That made the girl furious, she always made the first move, always struck the first blow, always drew first blood. 897 had known that perfectly well, and had been counting on that move to throw his sibling into her predictable rage. It was also for that very same reason that he had been walking around with his grin, not only because it worked facial muscles he liked but also because somehow during his training he had found out that his opponents found it annoying. He knew that a distracted opponent was a beaten one, and thus had developed his habit of purposefully annoying those he was pitted against. If he could make them angry, they would get foolish and start making stupid mistakes. Unlike his friend 1022, 879 lived for the battle; he loved any kind of fray he could get into and he didn't care with whom it was so long as blood was flying.
934 held her ground until the last possible second, then twisted and elbowed 897 aside. Using the momentum of the contact as a slingshot she spun in an almost beautiful motion and caught him in the ribs with her heel before he could recover and attack again. He fell into the dust and she jumped on him, reaching to try and twist his arms behind his back and pin him.
With some of the members of their division, that would have ended it right then and there. 934 would have slowly begun dislocating their shoulders until they had been forced to cry surrender. Unfortunately for 934, Julian's training regimen was strict, extensive and hard, and even though they were all only five years old, 897 had developed more than enough arm and muscle strength to push an attacker off of him. Add on the fact that 897's joints were all as limber and loose as water and he was near impossible to hold down. He allowed the ball in his right shoulder joint to pop out of place and twisted his body out from underneath 934. Rolling to his feet and hopping back, he then lifted the arm over his head, the round head of the ball and socket joint popping back into it's socket with no more than a light crunching sound, as though he had simply cracked his knuckles.
He smiled at 934 again.
All this was unseen to 934, however, as she had rolled away the moment 897 had loosed himself from her grip in an attempt to dodge what she worried might be a sneak attack on her vulnerable back. Loosing all sense of balance she rolled to one knee, overbalanced, tilted forward and to the side and hit her head on a rock she had been fairly sure hadn't been there before. She looked up at 1022 and noted that the other girl was wearing a satisfied and slightly smug look on her face. 934 had no time to contemplate revenge as she sensed 897 rushing her again. He was scuttling along the ground sideways like a crab, throwing up puffs of dust behind him, and making himself a perfect target for her keen and sharp elbow, as she twisted her midsection to meet him.
897's amethyst eyes briefly crossed before they closed, blinded by a sudden wash of tears as he fell to 934's side, blood flowing freely from his nose. 934, sure she had just won, began to stand. But before she was firmly over her heels again, in that vulnerable fraction of a second where all her weight was on her toes, 897 snapped his eyes open, lunged and grabbed her ankles, one in each hand, and pulled them towards himself with all the speed and strength he could muster from his prone position. 934 went down on her back with a thump that knocked all the breath from her lungs and made her bite the inside of her cheek hard enough to make it bleed. 897 didn't pause to gloat over the success of his fake, instead he hauled himself over her, trying to catch her arms and pin her there.
"Fat chance of that," 934 spat blood at him, as she smacked him in the throat with the heel of her left hand. The punch had been meant to do nothing more than knock him back, not to take him out of the fight as it easily could have, but merely to let her squirm away in one of the athletic maneuvers she was famous for. 934 wanted to beat 897 on her feet. She leapt to her feet as 897 rocked back, hand to his throat, and readied her fist for a punch to his nose. She was about to win; she could taste it in her blood. She cocked her arm back and-
"Enough!" Julius said as he seemingly appeared out of nowhere and strode towards the trio.
934's fist halted just as it passed her shoulder, her face slipping on the expected mask of neutrality that she had been taught to show to her superiors. 897 and 1022 followed suit a heartbeat later, nevertheless, beneath all three masks rage burned white-hot at the interference.
Julius' long legs carried him easily to the two grapples in only a few strides. In a quick snake-like motion he grabbed the back of 934's beige uniform and grabbed 897 by his shoulder and pulled them apart.
Though none of them would ever admit it, all of the Chikara division was either absolutely terrified of Julius or very careful not to needlessly anger him. What made them fear him was the strength that outmatched their own in his wiry frame. That, and the cold, merciless fire in his eyes and the scars he had all over his face and body, all remnants of his days as one of the elite Mobile Suit pilots and hand-to-hand combat specialist. However, what the Chikara division didn't know about Julius is that they shared a highly similar past.
There was not one member of the division who would have loved to challenge the warrior to a fight. Many dreamed of it with glee, but they all knew they would have as surely lost such a match as a moth dies when if flies into the light source of a candle. 934 feared his strength like the rest of her siblings, but all the same she fought that fear back hard. She was determined to fear no one, ever.
"We are on break, we were free to fight, sir." She tightly said, addressing his chin, she could not force her eyes higher than that.
"It's not right to stop that, sir." 897 also added, however, unlike his bolder sister, he only spoke to Julius' leg.
There, they had said it, 943's eyes slipped down to Julian's chest, awaiting her sibling's and her own fate. 1022 simply listened and tried not to even look like she was even concerned about what was about to happen, they had all seen their other siblings from other divisions shot dead for less trifling things. To talk back to an instructor was a death sentence and they all knew it.
Julius smiled, a smile quite unlike 897's for his smirk held only contempt and no one liked to see it. Internally, he was pumping his fist in the air with a sense of victory; finally, he had found at least one member of this wretched group with a backbone. For one moment, Julius was glad those lazy asshole scientists he had to scrape to were on one of their self-assigned coffee breaks, no doubt his plan would have come crashing down had even one of them been within hearing distance; the same went for his fellow instructors. Those thoughts were all passed and processed through Julius' mind in half a second. He jerked the collar of 934's uniform, pulling her head back and making her look up at him. "You might think you can do anything you want." He snarled down at her, "But while you are here, I will be the one who decides what you do and whether you live or die. All of you serve me and don't you ever forget it." He was talking to the entire division now. Those in the barracks had quickly come out and filed for inspection at the first sounding of his voice.
"You may not think of anything aside from what I tell you to think, and you will do as I tell you to do. Never anything else, not while you are under my tutelage. When you become soldiers, you may do as you like, fight when you like, and die however you like." He paused to glare at them all separately, all but two of the group failed to hold his gaze. Julius quickly checked his mental numbers, the two who met his look were numbers 1031 and 1084, they had higher than average physical strength than their peers but other than that were nothing special to him. "Here you are nothing by mindless scum, got it?" He looked back down at 934 and 897 again, "What was this little tussle about?" he asked.
"I smiled at her." 897 said, glaring at 934.
"All this over a smile?"
Feeling a little bold, as they had seemed to have somehow escaped immediate death 934 said, "Yes," with venomous defiance. Now she was playing a fine line and she knew it, but didn't care so long as she proved to herself that this man would not scare her as he did her siblings.
"A waste." Julius looked up at the rest of the Chikara division, "Get back into the barracks, all of you. If you think this morning was difficult I will be highly amused to see if any of you survive until nightfall. Get what little rest you can."
As the Chikara division filed noiselessly back into the barracks, Julius ordered 934 and 897 to stay where they were a moment longer. When they are alone, the soldier crossed his arms appraisingly over his chest and looked down at the five-year-olds who stood at attention before him. "At ease," he said. When they both had shifted to that new position Julius walked in a slow circle around them. "So," he said as he passed behind her, "this fight was over nothing but a smile?"
"Yes, sir." 934 and 879 replied.
"Very stupid of you, nine-three-four. You both think yourselves an unstoppable force too far ahead of time. You are not a warrior until you are a warrior. While you are under my care, you are foolish, weak children and nothing more. Dismissed."
As the siblings walked back to the barracks, Julius calmly said to himself. "But then again, warriors ahead of your time you might be, but I expect you will be good ones." He smiled and pulled a small Palm Pilot from the inside of his shirt. He looked at the retreating figures one final time and made his decision. The message he so carefully typed was:
Identification code: 934 and 879-Chikara Division
Warning: 934 is beginning to show signs of highly willful, aggressive, and insubordinate behavior. 879 is openly showing emotions. Currently proceeding with caution and marking subjects for termination on any further outbursts. Chief Instructor # 15 Julius Buhallin requesting permission to terminate should the need arise.
Julius sent the message and awaited the response. He did not have to wait long.
Chief Instructor # 15 Julius Buhallin. Permission granted to terminate subject 934-Chikara Division on grounds of insubordinate behavior should the situation call for it. Permission also granted to terminate subject 879-Chikara Division for behavior disruptive to the group should that need also come to pass.
Julius nodded to the empty air and allowed himself a smug smile. Things were falling perfectly into place. He slipped the mini-computer back under his clothes and went back to the painstaking task of arraigning the next set of exercises for the division.
* * *
She watched him stride away. When he was out of sight, she ran swiftly and silently to the border of the encampment, to an open field near some long-abandoned barracks located near the fence. There she began to exercise fiercely so that she would be better for the day's later training.
As she performed a long set of jumping jacks, a sound caught her attention and she looked past the fence and saw some movement in the hillside beyond. There was someone or something behind a bush, of that she was certain. She gave the area sidelong glances, taking special care not to interrupt the rhythmic pattern of her movements and after a moment she was certain it was a person that she had seen.
Now 934 was certain someone was spying. She detested the idea of spies, but was strangely thrilled that she might discover one. She began to plan a trap.