Disclaimers: Yeah, I don't own Gundam Wing.
Author's Note: Um… I was REALLY bored, so I took the first sentence that came to mind and wrote a story starting from there, and cause I'm crazy, that sentence was "I kill crazy people." Err…. Yeah. This is a whole new style of writing for me, it's humor, I guess. Actually, it's just the way I see things. My friends and I are like this a lot of the time. So when you see the character interaction, that's based on my friends and I. Um… I don't know if I'll write any more of this, I'm going through a DREADFUL writer's block, and so I'm just killin time by doing stupid things. This will probably be taken off ff.net within a week or so, just cause it sucks. But when you think of it, it's pretty alright for basing it off of "I kill crazy people."
Fic: Untitled
Author: Maxwell-Yuy, who is ashamed to have written such trash, and will go back to the sentimental mush whichis most of her writing soon enough.
Untitled: part one of none"I kill crazy people."
Startled, Quatre tensed up and jerked his head to face his friend. "What did you say?"
"I kill crazy people."
Pale blue eyes clearly confused, Quatre ran his hand through his short blonde hair. Somewhat frightened, he looked down as if to study the grass that composed the field they were sitting in. After a moment of silence, he once again looked at his dark-haired companion. "Heero, um… what brought that on?"
"What brought what on?"
"You know what I mean." He said as he played with the grass between his fingers.
The dark-haired man took a deep breath and faced Quatre to give him the meanest death glare possible. "What brought what on, damn you," he said calmly and smoothly. In fact, the sheer calmness and smoothness of his voice accompanied by the patented Heero Yuy death glare was enough to send shivers through any lesser man. Quatre happened to be a lesser man.
Shaking, voice low, eyes averted, Quatre answered, "you… you said, 'I kill crazy people' in no context whatsoever. I mean, people don't just say something like that out of the blue. It's usually provoked."
Any emotional and feeling man would have backed down after such a comment from sweet and naive Quatre. The sincerity, the softness, the confusion in his eyes could melt ice. In fact, Quatre had a knack for looking sweet and innocent. Fair skin, blonde hair, blue eyes and a boyish face are attributes that tend to lead to an absolutely adorable individual. His father was hoping for a ferocious looking son and thought if he gave his son a calming name that he might grow to be a balanced individual, Quatre did no such thing. The damn boy had all of his mother's fair looks, and his sweet sounding name didn't help.
Everyone loved Quatre. Everyone loved Quatre except those who hated Quatre. Women loved him for his honest to god down to earth cute looks. He won girls over instantly with his lovably shy smiles and soft-spoken politeness. Men hated Quatre because women loved him for his honest to god down to earth cute looks and lovably shy smiles and soft-spoken politeness. But Heero was a man with little emotions and less feelings and a short temper.
"What are you talking about? I never said that. Are you crazy? I need to know, because if you are, I'd hate to have to kill you. After all, I kill crazy people."
Thinking of some protest, Quatre stopped to think, and thought it better not to say anything more. After all, he was dealing with Heero. And Heero has always been crazy. So instead he turned his full attention back to the grass, and then to the grassy field. After much wordless bonding that can only take place between men as they sit and do nothing, Quatre spoke once again. "Heero, why are we here?"
The reply came without so much as a pause or a movement from Heero. "Because as soldiers we were ordered to keep watch and protect the town across the valley and alert them if anything were to come their way."
Quatre shook his head. "No Heero. I mean the real reason."
The reply came without so much as a pause or a movement from Heero. "Because as soldiers we were ordered to keep watch and protect the sheep across the valley and alert them if anything were to come their way." Now he could sense the confusion in his counterpart. Satisfied with his work, Heero continued, "Orders were that since I am too fun to have around, we had to be sent somewhere where I couldn't easily have any fun. Damn Officers piss me off."
"But Heero," the blonde started, "you're an Officer. You got that promotion three months ago after the invasion of Wheaton Fortress."
"Yeah, well I resent that promotion and I piss me off too."
With confidence that could only come from years of knowing Heero, Quatre stated matter-of-factly, "And don't you mean that orders were that since you are too reckless to have around, we had to be sent somewhere where you couldn't easily commit suicide?"
The dark haired man turned to his friend with a haunting look in his cobalt blue eyes. "Oh, I don't intend to commit suicide. I didn't have to join the army for that. If I wanted to kill myself I could have done that at home years ago. No, I don't want to commit suicide. I mean, I have nothing of value worth living for but suicide isn't the solution: dying is. Why do something as shameful as killing myself when the army pays me to try and do it daily? Why else do you think I lead all the charges? It's certainly not because I like it."
Not knowing how to respond or if a response was really necessary, Quatre just laid back in the grass and watched the blue sky and the white clouds. After a while, Heero did the same, pulling his hands behind his head and once again wordlessly doing nothing, with his friend not too far off.
***
"I have no intention of fighting. Go away."
Wu-Fei always had a way of pursuing justice, even if justice didn't pursue him. He could sense a fight, or so he said, and he refused to fight a weak enemy, or so he said. Wu-Fei could sense a fight, but only when the average man wanted to fight. He never seemed to be able to get it right with Heero.
"Huh?"
Glancing up from polishing his sword, Wu-Fei looked at Heero stating, "You want a fight, and I'm not giving you one." Then he went right back to his sword polishing, which seemed to be religious to him because he never went a day without polishing it several times and he seemed to sleep with the thing. His sword was so shiny from months of polishing and no action, people were starting to wonder if Wu-Fei actually knew how to use a sword. Even Heero, who had the utmost faith in his Chinese comrade was subtly questioning the man's skills.
"Wu-Fei," Heero began, "do you even know how to use that weapon?"
Eyes full of fire, Wu-Fei snapped out of his reverie that always accompanied polishing his sword and lashed out at Heero. "Are you challenging me to a fight, weakling?"
Instantly Wu-Fei knew he was in trouble. To get Heero Yuy angry is asking for Death to knock at the door. That is of course, if Death is real and actually has the dexterity and coordination and concentration to literally or figuratively knock on doors. Wu-Fei however, seemed to believe that Death existed and was literally knocking at his door, because in the silence that came before Heero could respond, Wu-Fei tensed up and stared at the door, listening for something. Meanwhile, Heero eyed him suspiciously and lifted one eyebrow in question before stalking past Wu-Fei and leaving the tent, all the while giving a death glare that would make Death himself, who happened to be at Wu-Fei's door, keel over and die.
For good measure, Quatre stayed behind with Wu-Fei. Maybe he sensed that the Chinese soldier was cursing himself in his head for what he had done, or maybe Quatre just wanted to hang around the "normal" people. The "normal" people consisted of himself, the sword wielding and justice obsessed Wu-Fei, and a tall and quiet soldier whose specialty (or possible social defect) he did not yet know of. The tall one, Trowa, as he was known, was nowhere to be found at the moment, but Quatre was determined to get to know his tall unibanged companion.
With Heero "the Prefect Psycho" Yuy off in the officer's tent, the others could try to get to know each other. However, before Quatre could try to start a conversation, Wu-Fei had reverted back to his sword polishing. The small group was very comfortable for Quatre because he could concentrate on making real friends with the small group he was assigned to. The small group was very uncomfortable for Quatre because he could not concentrate on making real friends with the socially inept small group he was assigned to. The only refuge he had came in the form of Trowa, and even Trowa was never anywhere to be seen. It would be a long three months with this group.
****
heh, that was a waste, eh?