Gundam Wing isn't mine; I'm just playing with them.
Because a certain sister of mine found out about Fox Goddess, I will be posting under this name.
The prologue had been revised. I will rechapter as I revise each chapter. If you are an old reader of mine, you can reread this and tell me if you like it better then the un-revised one. Yes, the prologue did somehow length to twice its old size. When I revise, I do more then spelling and grammar. I think I added an interesting plot twist in here if you have a good memory of a certain villain of mine's characteristics.
Fly (used to be called leave) and was under the name Fox Goddess
Prologue
Each drop of tear like rain clanked against the metal makeshift shelter. It rattled Duo's mind with the memories and thoughts best not remembered or thought of on a dark day like this one, or any day in what Duo now called his life. But even as he fought the memories and thoughts, they sneaked into his head. In his rain dreary head, the rain was the footfall of hungry for terror and blood Ziedian soldiers. The grinning faces of soldiers stared down at him from the metal roof above him. The faint wind became their rattling voices. And hail transformed into silver bullets meant to kill such outcasts such as him and Heero. He wanted to just curl up in a ball, ignore their taunts of 'we won, you scum; come out to meet your award'. But he didn't.
They weren't there; they weren't real.
But it felt clean. It wasn't not watery felling. It felt like the water he remembered from before Ziedian, as he called the easy times when all he and the other gundam pilots had to worry about was fighting for the colonies and all that junk like that. The rain—clear and just rain-like to him—was clean; he hoped, but whatever he hoped never seem true. And this rain must be tainted too, but how?
A new substance, maybe. They had switched drugs before. The
drug or drugs could be seeking into his mind right now, making him docile and
sweet: a good citizen to them. And he would never know. They were just too
good. Them and their drugs. Curse them. Ziedian and their scientist. Couldn't
they die now or something? But they wouldn't and Duo would just have to live
like he had been: in secret and despair with his only still alive friend and
only still just a friend: Heero.
Small drops of the said rain sprinkled through the cracks in the shelter. Maybe sprinkled wasn't the right wood; flooded would fit it. A small system of puddles developed on the uneven ground, wetting the black rags he called his pants. He hardly noticed the slight wet chill against his somewhat bony legs butt, but the said parts they did. In curious, small shivers, almost convulsions but that word was too strong, they let him know their state. He didn't take note. There was no hope to stop them. Ignorance was the only thing he could do. He was used to the cold and helplessness to stop the shivers of life.
And the rain showered on.
He was not worried about the drugs, much. He and Heero both took the then still available vaccines to all known drugs a half of a year ago. Almost still times then. The times when freedom fighting was still done, when hope was still alive, when his three other friends still walked freely in their own minds or just walked. But then, those three pilots disappeared during a fight, earth's and space's forces broke, and they, just heroes to earth and the colonies in the Mariemaia battles two years ago, were criminals with hefty rewards for capture, more for death.
This wet shelter was safe, he hoped. They had just gotten there the day before. The came during the morning rush when no one would notice two homeless teens: a girlfriend and boyfriend at the glance of even the unobservant eye. That was of course if one cared to look at the hundred poor that stared with desolate eyes at Ziedian uniformed, fatly fed men and women. Rich didn't look at poor. Rich didn't need to see poor. Rich were rich. Same as two years back, same as two hundred years back. Why would the rich look at something less then them when they didn't have to? Why would the rich look at something they might have been, may have been in the future, or may have been in the childish past? They didn't have to look at Duo, Heero, the little girl crying under a drain and calling for her 'papa' all day. The just didn't want the memories and glimpses of poor life in them. It was easer for them to ignore them.
So, literally in the eyesight of the rich, but truly not,
Duo and Heero had moved, drifted really, through those crowds of those poor
ones, their eyes downcast, their shoulders slumped, their feet moving away from
the informs, just like everyone else deemed insignificant for use by the
Ziedian government. No one took not of them. No one noticed the boyish features
of the 'girlfriend', or the intense, Prussian-blue eyes of the 'boyfriend'. Why
would they? So the ex-pilots had sifted through public without public notice.
No one associated them with the two boys on the wanted pictures. Why would
they? They wouldn't; that was how the world, colony, now turned.
An especially large drop landed on their shelter--probably a collection of raindrops that slipped of the roof of the warehouse that made up their shelter's sidewall. Another one fell—this one: bigger and sloppier then the other. The water poured through some cracks in the metal board ceiling, flopping onto Duo's head and plastering his bangs to his head. His braid was safe; he had it in an old jacket that was almost as sorry as his pants. But it was safe and dry. Duo wouldn't die of any colds because of his hair becoming a breeding ground for germs and viruses, and drugs. Though Heero's hair was a different story. Currently, it was plaster to his head and covered the blue eyes that Duo wished would look at Duo for a change. But those eyes never did, not a single time in this godforsaken day.
These days those Prussian blue eyes hardly ever left the sight they wanted to behold, study: a small, ugly pink thing. Duo had never seen it up close, but he had seen its winking light whenever the sun glistened off its smooth, jewel surface. It was beautiful, and Duo hated it, and Doctor J for sending it, to death. It took Heero's attention away form him and that would not do. Duo knew he and Heero would never have the relationship Duo wanted, but he at least deserved to be able to talk to Heero, see Heero smile. But no, that jewel took over Heero's attention when he wanted comfort, someone to talk to. What made it worse: Duo didn't even see what was so great about that jewel. He lost Heero to a jewel. My, he was pathetic.
So, he cowered in fair of imaginary footsteps while Heero
stared half-wit-ly (1) at the stupid jewel clutched in his hands. Perfect
picture: the perfect soldier Heero Yuy and the self-proclaimed
Boyfriend, now that was an interesting word. Almost as interesting as that feeling that rushed around his body when he heard that word used by his 'boyfriend' in public. Duo banished the thoughts—Heero would not like his attentions—and scuttled next to the other boy. A hand clasped over the pink thing and a familiar glare was sent toward Duo. At least he looked at me, Duo thought as he prepared to speak to the silent boy.
Duo opened his mouth to speak, but a flood of water hit him and the clang of metal sheet hitting the flour interrupted him. Great, he thought, some drunk stumbled across our hiding the place. He turned his head to yell at the intruder who just wrecked the roof, and was caught dead with his eyes widen and his jaw almost unhinged.
Well, not literary, but that—dead—was how he would be soon
if something magic or magically impossible didn't happen soon. Thirty Ziedian
soldiers stood around them. Two big bruisers of men kicked the flimsy sides
away from the boys. No protection.
"Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell," said the leader: a lanky man with a green hair spilling down his back and a satanic grin. Evil.
Duo wanted to hang his head in defeat. He didn't. That would be defeat. He was a gundam pilot, not a broken child. He would die like a gundam pilot. And he would die like a gundam pilot in front of Heero, proud and defiant.
He glared at the almost too cheerful man and grinned. He nodded his, just to confuse the man. Yes, he was Duo Maxwell, the formally dreaded Gundam pilot.
The green-haired leader nodded and signaled to his
lackeys.
Fear shone in Heero's eyes as it probably shone in Duo's. But something else was there: a faint wish and affection for Duo. It was small but it was there. Laying his head on the warm chest in front of him, Duo closed his eyes from the truth of the gaze and snuggled up to Heero. A snake of warmth enfolded him as Heero wrapped his around Duo. They were one.
A soft press of lips brushed his cheek; and a small whisper
reached his ear, but he knew not what it meant as the grinning soldiers fired
their cold metal guns at the warm souls freezing.
A soft, comforting light--like a flashlight's straight light
that lights the way home for a wary traveler--came down from the sky and
engulfed the two in its brilliant fire. It wasn't strange; it wasn't death. It
was life and life forever come to take life away to more life. And pink life,
light shone through Heero's still closed hands. Heero had his eyes closed and
was clutching Duo; Duo felt and saw that as he opened up his eyes to see why he
wasn't to meet his role model
Duo got to smirk this time. The formally grinning soldiers stared at the spot on the ground where the pilots had been. There was no blood, only spent, but black, bullets on the uneven and wet ground.
Duo snuggled, still grinning, into Heero's embrace, drifting to sleep in the comforting presences of Heero and the light of Heero's.
Things would be all right.
1) half-wit-ly – dumbly; stupidly. Yes, I know it's not a
word, but I like it.
2) God of Death (Japanese). You should know this.
Chapter 1
Duo yawned and snuggled into his firm pillow. He knew he
should get up. There was something important that happened and needed his
attention, but he was just too comfy, and that dream of him and Heero finally
free just was too good to let go. So he snuggled into his mattress and slept,
moving a bit to relieve a sleeping arm. A sharp bump in the mattress hit his
side, causing him to squirm away. 'Wait a second, when did the safe shelters
have mattress?' His sleepy mind asked. Had they been captured? His head with
his body shot up, expecting the cold gray walls of a cell. But there were no
cell walls. There was the green of living things. Thick grass to high to be
colony grown stretched to a forest of wild looking trees. "I don't think
were in Kansas anymore." He said slowly a line from an old movie he saw at
Maxwell's church. He wasn't in the colonies anymore, either. So, where was
he?
Memory hit him. And some questions, like what was his un-grass-like
pillow?
"Heero!" Duo strangled out. He repeated himself over and over, stronger every time, pointing at the blue orb in front of the moon. Relishing that Heero was not responding, he squatted next to Heero and presided to grab those perfectly slumbering shoulders and shake them like a kid wanting something really bad.
"I am up," barked Heero in a slightly less then his normal monotone. Duo pointed up at the sky like a little kid seeing his favorite ride and wanting mommy to take him on it, well, except for the expression of otter terror and amazement with an undertone of relief on his face. He was acting such his age today, wasn't he?
Heero raised his head and grunted, but he was unable to hide the slight widening of his eyes that, if on a normal person, would be only a slight bit of surprise but on Heero was almost utter shock. Well, Duo knew Heero was shocked, but pretended he wasn't. Heero was calm; everything would be okay in the end. There was nothing to worry about.
"What should we do know Heero? Try to find a town or something?
There's a road a bit over there. Well, it looks like an old fashioned road from
the old movies Sister Helen always showed us. She loved those old movies. But
wait; there might not be humans on this world. What can we do! I'm hungry." Duo
rambled on, taking two breaths for minute's worth of talk. So what if he was
rambling? He wasn't scared, not him, the god of death. Babbling was what he
always did. Right.
Heero looked around, surveying. "We will follow the road. This is not our world; we don't know what's safe." Duo nodded his head.
The road was like the roads from the really old movies. Dust followed them down the dirt path. Duo kept tripping on the potholes. Not that there wasn't enough light to see by. He just kept getting distracted but what floated above him in the earth-like sky. At the moon and the other one.
His eyes drifted up again to look up at the wonder. He just needed to look up one more time to again to do something, maybe prove to himself that he wasn't crazy earlier. So he looked up at them, the moons: the graveyard look-alike that he knew to be the moon, and the other blue one, the blue one that they both recognized as the Earth.
"So, should I be like a girl or a boy?" Duo asked when he looked back down after tripping again. They found their town. Ok, maybe it wasn't actually a town. It wasn't like any city he knew of. There were no skyscrapers or metal fronted buildings. But it was a city from a movie set before the industrial age. He was faintly reminded of cities from fairy tales. There was Evan a palace type structure surrounded by the stone and wood buildings of the city that were built like the material was cheap and easy to come by. Where were they?
Duo's soldier instinct took over before he went ballistic.
He now calmly surveyed the city. Cliffs surrounded the city on one side and
water on the other. The city itself sprawled inside the two protections. It
would hard to assault with weapons of the medieval ages, the weapons that
matched the time period he seemed to be in. The breeze tasted of salt. Salt
water, then it was a sea, not a lake.
"No, I think we're safe being ourselves," Heero said, his
eyes never leaving the city. Duo stopped, switching his study of the city to a
study of his emotionless ex-partner. He looked strange. He looked like he knew
this place or something like that. This was just too weird.
Night closed around them as the walked there. No one traveled the road this late, or was it now early. There would be some people, maybe soon. Wheel and fooe marks shared equal space with the animals' prints. They were safe out there. So safe that Duo started to whistle. He stumbled a few times from lack of practice. It felt so good and carefree. People didn't whistle in the colonies now; it was too carefree of a thing these days. He whistled all the way to the gates.
The gates even looked old-fashioned. They reminded him of a
tougher and bigger version of Relena's front gate.
The guards shared a look and stepped foreword. They're going to kill us, Duo thought. He was not going to let that happen. He pushed the closest guard away from him and scatted, right to the city gate without relishing it. A guard stepped out the guardhouse, grabbing him around the wrist. He wiggled, but the guard was an expert. A hand came down on his head. He blanked out.
He awoke to a cell, and Heero's worried face. Well, it looked worried until Heero was sure Duo was up. Then it went into perfect-soldier-mode. Heero opened his mouth but snapped it shout when the sound of footsteps shouted at them. The watched the new arrivals arrive.
A black haired, blue-eyed man came first. He could be called a boy, but carried the presence of one much over. He looked like an older version of any of the Gundam pilots. Too young but still old. A woman came right behind him, whispering to a little blond haired, blue-eyed teen. She had blue eyes and light brown, mid back length hair. The man said something as the woman glided up to him. Then the boy said something, gibberish to the former pilots.
The woman came right up to them and said, "Ossu.*"
Heero looked right at her and said the exact same thing. It was then Duo noticed the jewel that the woman wore: the exact same one that Heero had. Duo was officially in the twilight zone now.
*Japanese hi, I think.