This chapter has been re-vamped with a slight twist to the ending. Collab with Cltcmistress.
We do not own Gundam Wing, we're too cool. The OCs do belong to us, as does the plot.
The blood spiraled down his arm and he watched it as it fell to the ground in thick puddles. He laughed a little as he squeezed the wound on his arm, shuddering with the pain that seared through his exhausted body. He shivered, his body was icy, almost hot, sweat beading on his face, but nothing compared to the pain in his arm. Bullet wounds were extremely cold and painful, like ice, yet it burned.
He wiped the back of his right hand on his forehead and rested against the wall, grabbing his gun and holding it to his chest. He studied the barrel, admiring the cold metal, feel of the grip warm from his body heat. The color of it was so beautiful - polished gun metal grey, he almost forgot it was an instrument of death. He felt a guilty feeling rise in his stomach - surprised that killing another person still effected him as strong as the first time.
He snickered at that and held the gun to his own temple, for a moment, fear pausing his finger from pulling the trigger. He didn't know what was on the other side, what awaited you after death, but for someone like him it was definately not heaven. That caused another laugh - he wasn't even sure about "heaven" or "hell" nor where he was going. What he got was what he felt he deserved. Violet eyes blinked tightly shut and he exhaled deeply, pulling his finger tightly down on the trigger.
An empty click rang in his ears and for a moment he wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. One violet eye slid open and he cussed, flinging the gun to the ground with a grunt. He was out of bullets, wounded, and trapped in this hell hole of a building, being chased by..., well, he wasn't sure who exactly was chasing him, but he was use to that. You could never be too sure of who your enemies where.
He pulled himself up to his feet, fumbling for for a moment before leaning back against the wall again. He'd lost a lot of blood, but he couldn't stay here any longer or they'll find him. And he'd been tortured enough to know he wasn't thrilled about capture. He limped towards the exit he felt would take him to the outside, but every corner he turned was empty and led back into a maze of hallways and doors. He must've lost more blood then he'd thought, unable to get his bearings or sense of direction sent a panic into his chest and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Images of victims they'd found from this new organization sent a chill down his spine, he knew he didn't want to be here when they found him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold his eyes open.
He turned the corner and something connected with his nose, hard, and he saw stars exploding into bright white before fading to a dull black.
"You can open your eyes, I know you're awake." A female voice cut through the haziness and he felt himself slipping back into conscienceness, but he remained unmoving. "But of course, if you want to keep your eyes closed, we can do this you're way, too. No use fighting me, we have given you a high dosages of an opiate, you will find your motor skills impossible to control." Her voice shifted up almost sweetly, and felt his stomach cringe at the thought.
He slowly opened his eyes to examine his captor. She was tall and lanky, her hair falling down in layers longer then his own, pale white, shimmering with blue opal. Her eyes were dark grey, and piercing, unnerving. Her face was beautiful, but her expression was stoic, almost indifferent, unlike her voice. She wore a dark uniform with the markings of a leader, but it was worn improperly, buttons undone, "gear adrift", and disorderly looking. Her superiors would not be pleased with the disheveled look, he knew. Despite her unmaintained uniform, she stood prim and proper, watching him.
"You are Duo." It was a statement, not a question, but he didn't reply. "You don't have to answer me, I know about you. I've been watching you." She ran her knuckles gently down his cheek, resting her fingertips on his throat, leaning in close to him so they were nose to nose.
"You may call me Zero. I'll be taking care of you." She grinned sweetly at him before standing up right again and walking from his eye site. He heard a door slam closed and swallowed, trying to get a grip on his limbs, but it was useless. He was unable to move and his bullet wound ached and pulled as he struggled. It was too much and darkness claimed him again.
When he opened his eyes he discovered he was in a chair, arms cuffed behind his back, his neck stiff and sore from the strain of being forced in one position for so long, and his captor was back, but there was a dark bruise forming and swelling across her pale cheekbone.
"I see you're awake again." Her voice was monotone and her uniform was proper this time, looking very much military.
He grunted at her, curious about the bruise under her eye and sudden change in appearance.
"If you are unwilling to talk, I can help you." She raised an eyebrow questioningly at him before picking up a small hammer.
Duo blinked once, before staring past her.
"I see." She sighed, walking towards him, raising the hammer slowly. "It will be a shame to damage such a beautiful face." She cupped his chin gently. "I will give you one more chance to answer me."
His eyes flickered to the hammer before meeting hers again.
"Go. To. Hell."
"Very well then, Mr. Maxwell." She swung the hammer, grinning as it made a sickening crunch, blood splattering against her, she was going to have fun. For her master.
