Rating: R
Warnings: Uh...Let's see here. Graphic drug abuse, prostitution, Girl! Wufei, and of course, angst.
Disclaimer: If I owned Gundam Wing, Duo would be a cross dresser and Quatre would be a power-game loving little freak.
I'd like to think it's pretty obvious that I don't own it.
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Deep in the red light district of Beijing, a thin figure is huddled in a filthy brothel, awaiting her first customer of the night.
The surroundings, although filthy, are extremely ordered, as if keeping condoms arranged by size, flavor and texture will prevent her dreary existance from crashing down around her.
There was a time, she remembers, wrapping the thin, stained sheets around her emaciated form. There was a time when my soul was dedicated to justice. To my darling Nataku.
As the sun begins to set, she pulls a battered notebook out from between the mattress and bed frame, and begins to write in a precise soldier's hand.
--
19 Februrary, AC 198
Why did you have to die?
I miss you so much that sometimes the world becomes too much--this cheap whorehouse, the disgusting, sadistic customers--I miss fighting for justice, but there's no justice in the world, no strength in the world. My only two reasons for life are gone-lost in the wind.
But I'm sure this is all rather confusing to you, airen.
It was beautiful, the day you died, did you know that? The sun was shining...or at least, the lights were bright that day, and your beautiful, smiling face-the memory still brings tears to my eyes. You were strong, Meiran, the only strong woman I have ever known.
After your death, I guess I just snapped. I chopped off my hair-but I saved it, of course, because you loved my hair so.
That gundanium monster-the one I tried to save you with-I named it Nataku. I wasn't strong enough with my weak body-but with you by my side I could defeat him.
I didn't want to hide who I was-it was Master O's idea that I masquerade as a man for my own protection. I wanted to show Oz how shameful they were-forcing a weak woman like myself to fight them.
So I went to Earth. My eyes were still stinging with grief and I only wanted to destroy, to kill.
I've got to go now, Meir. The sun is setting and the customers will be coming soon.
----
With a sigh the slight Asian girl slides the notebook inbetween the soiled matress and bed frame.
Pacing across the filthy floor to the small chest of drawers, Wufei paws through her meagre clothing and pulls out a see-through, silken red shirt with black buttons, and matching shorts. There's no reason for a whore to look disgusting. Quickly she strips and pulls on the skimpy outfit, kicking the dirty, baggy shirt she had on before under the bed.
Digging deeper into the drawers, she pulls out a small plastic bag , a quarter full of precious white powder. Her thin hands start to shake now, and the former Gundam pilot places the bag on the drawers, before pulling out a rubber tourniquet, a lighter, a large spoon and a bottle of tepid water.
With careful, practiced movements, the Shenlong pilot dips the large spoon into the white powder into the bag, allowing a small amount to fall onto the spoon. Delicately, her hands free of any shakes now that she knows her salvation is only minutes away, she removes the large spoon from the bag and a small amount of lemon juice onto the white powder. Grabbing the nearby bottle of water she quickly adds a splash of water, shaking the drug and water together so they dissolve properly.
Wufei's free hand gropes for the lighter, her eyes fixed on the prize before her. With a quick twist of her fingers, the flame ignites and she holds it under the spoon until the white powder dissolves, turning the entire liquid into a milky white mix.
The young girl throws the lighter back into the drawer and pulls out a syringe, needle sharp and gleaming in the dim electric light. With anxious hands, she puts the point in the milky mixture and pulls up on the stopper, pulling every last drop into the syringe.
Deftly, she pushes down the stopper slightly, allowing a tiny amount of this precious nectar to escape its prison, insuring that there are no pockets of air within the mixture. To die with an unused syringe of heroin in her arm would be a terrible thing.
With reverence the needle is placed on the drawer again. The tourniquet is then wrapped firmly around her stick-like arm, trapping blood just below her left elbow.
Counting to ten, restraining the beast of craving wthin her, she waits for the artery itself to throb in her arm, then taps the vein with two fingers, quickly bringing it to the surface. Then she grabs the needle, plunging it into the her arm, but knowing just when to stop this painful self-torture, the Asian girl pushes down the stopper and allows this poision, this sick child of nature, into her body.
Sighing with relief, she pulls the needle deftly from her arm and releases the rubber strap in one fluid movement.
Perfectly still for just a moment, feeling the drug race quickly through her body, raising her temperature, her heart rate and making her feel truly alive--as if her and Nataku were together on the battlefield again, fighting for their lives.
Her slanted chocolate brown eyes snap open, revealing dialted pupils. She is ready to work.
----
tbc
update on saturday the 18th!
more notes: I'd like to thank Lady Lye, who is my eternal muse, nagging me and eating gluten free pocky. And Ei Pi, for giving me bits of Chinese culture and language to work with.
Airen-love, sort of the Chinese equivalent of 'koi'.