A New Endeavor
A/N: Wel~l it's the first real story I put up on my name after I killed them all! Hurrah! Let me see, I need to go through the typical stuff. . .
Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing. I'm also delusional. Please don't sue me all you'll get is. . . ::checks her pockets:: Two quarters, three dimes, a lunch ticket with four lunches left on it, a Rolo wrapper, and. . .a packet of Motrin. Hmm. ::glances around:: My Kid Rock CD, my Linkin Park CD, My Playstation, the 6 games I own and my sheet music from Casper. . .but you'll have to pry those from my cold, dead fingers. And then I'll have to send my Rinoa bot after you. MWAHAHAHA!
A smudged dirty face, wide violet eyes, and a long chestnut braid were all that was left of the boy formerly called a Botticelli angel. An innocent child, an unknowing teen, left alone in the streets to die. But, for some strange reason, some twist of fate he didn't. He was used and thrown away repeatedly, beaten and raped and drugged until he didn't know who he was or why he existed. Then they had come for him and he'd known a life other than the streets, a hard but endurable life of killing and destroying in which he called himself the Shinigami, the god of death. Now the gundams were gone, the war was over and he was sitting before the fire in a small house that the "generous" and late Dr. J had left to him as a small fee for his services as the pilot of Deathscythe Hell. The rest of his pay would be doted out in small portions each month until he was fifty, when he would receive the last amount of five hundred thousand dollars. He looked out the full length window before him, musing on how his life had been since the end of the Peacecraft War, as the five had come to call it. The house was small, with a basement that Duo used for his bedroom and an upstairs that was free to anyone who he had known in his pilot days. Two extra bedrooms was more than enough, nobody came to visit any more. It was cozy, and he liked it that way. He didn't have a job but he'd have to get one soon, his cash was dwindling quicker each month, it wasn't nearly enough to live comfortably on. Besides, he needed excitement, he needed adventure. . .he needed love. He was twenty two and he hadn't found one person that he was willing to spend more than a month with romantically. Hilde had been a close friend and people had assumed, but come on. It's not like he ever loved her. Actually, there was one person that he truly loved, that he would give anything for, but they definitely didn't love him back. No way in hell.
A knock at the door arose the man from his deliberations, and he stood, stretching slightly and pushing away the vertigo that threatened. He had gotten a bit out of shape, of course he was still slender and muscular but he probably wouldn't pass half of the physical challenges he took daily back in his teens. It's not like he needed to though, he didn't plan on fighting anyone but the occasional drunk in his favorite bar. Suddenly remembering that he had someone at the door, he slipped up to it and went to peek through the hole. Shaking his head and chastising himself mentally, he pulled away from the peephole and grinned, reminding himself that he wasn't a wanted man anymore. He pulled open the door, hoping somewhere deep inside that it wasn't Hilde or Relena, both of whom visited once in a while. It wasn't.
". . .He. . .Heero?" Amethyst eyes opened wide and his jaw fell slightly, parting his velvety lips sensuously.
"Domo, Duo." His voice was less monotonous than the man remembered, and held a slightly deeper timbre. Hope filled his mind, and he grinned. "Heero!" He made to hug the slight figure before him, but stopped when he saw the man recoil. "The. . .The others are here too. We. . .We need you help, Duo. . ." His voice trailed off and Duo glanced over the man's shoulder. Sitting in a dark, nondescript jeep, were three black clad men in sunglasses.
"Are you telling me that those people in the car are Tro, Quatre, and Wuffie?" He used the familiar nicknames without even noticing it, and gave a small grimace when Heero nodded. "But. . .they all have brown hair. Quatre doesn't have brown hair."
The shorter man looked up at Duo, and sighed. "Just. . .please, Duo, we need your help. . .we have to stop them before it gets out of hand. . ."
The braided man thought for a moment, then nodded his assent. A few moments later he climbed into the passenger side seat up front and the automobile sped down the gravel road.
A/N: Chapter two coming soon!