Hey, this is my first GW fic so be kind. I don't remember much of the
series because they canceled it like 3 or 4 years ago so if I have anything
wrong, don't shoot me. This is 1x2, 3x4 and eventual 5xOC. I was inspired
to write this after reading a 1x2x5 here, this might just be a one timer
like the rest of my fics (except m/d, I plan on putting up a new chapter
when I get off my ass and decide to churn out a new chappie) but it might
not. Wu, do the disclaimer.
Wufei: Injustice! You do the disclaimer, Onna!
'Fei, If you wish to keep your 'sword' intact I suggest you shut that shit hole in your face that you call a mouth and do the damn disclaimer.
Wufei sulks and grumbles
Wufei: She don't own. You don't sue. There I said it. Happy?
Yes I am, thank you. Gives Wu' a cookie for being a good boy
The sun shone brilliantly on the rubble of what once was a city. A teenage girl climbed through the rubble attempting to find another living person. She had long black hair, a fair complexion, and deep blue eyes. The girl, upon her trek through the demolished city, found a black, gray, red, and white backpack with a silver CD player that had flames drawn in black nail polish. The back round changed from purple to green from the angle that you held it, and the flames were a pale ice blue. Scrutinizing the bag further she found a purple mechanical pencil that looked as if the grip had been ripped off and was in need of a new eraser, a yellow legal tablet, a CD case, and a pair of headphones.
The girl shoved everything back into the backpack, slung it across one shoulder, and began her search for life again. Stumbling into the remains of one of her favorite clothing stores, she began to pack all of the remaining space with clothes and changed from the clothes she was wearing, pajama's, into a black and plaid pleated skirt, a black and red corset tank top and a pair of black doc martens. She moved on, gathering supplies that she would need to survive. In the crumbling remains of the sporting goods store, she found a flashlight, a sleeping bag, a tent, a box cutter, a gun which she tucked into the back of her skirt, extra clips of bullets that were stuffed into the tops of her doc martens, and lots of batteries. In the once grocery store, she stocked up on food, personal care items, and hygiene products both feminine and regular. Sitting down amidst the rubble that once was the beauty supply area of the store, she began to brush the tangled black mess that was her hair. After finishing, the girl placed her square black glasses back on her head and looked around for anything that might resemble a road out of this place. Faintly, she heard a rumble that remotely sounded like a jet engine. As it grew louder, the slightly confused teen scanned the skies for the sound, as she was certain it was not coming from anywhere near her on the ground.
Then she saw it. A gundam. The one she had always referred to as Sandrock. It was mostly white, with black at the bottom of the feet and a black and gold shield. It's upper half was a mix of black, pale blue, gold and white with splashes of red every once in a while. The 'wings' that jutted out past the shoulder to serve as shoulder armor were the same pale blue and white. The girl scrambled to pull the backpack onto her shoulders, it had acquired more weight since she went in search of the things she would need to survive on her own, and made her way towards the mammoth machine.
A small shocking blonde head popped out of the cockpit of the gundam and looked around for anything that moved. He saw a small girl running towards him wearing nothing but black and red. He grabbed a pistol from a small compartment in the cockpit and, after tucking the gun into the back of the waistband of his khaki pants, climbed down to the ground to meet the girl.
She slowed to a walk as she neared the gundam and the pilot, dropping her bag a few feet away so that she could get to her gun more easily. They came to stand about a yard away, close enough so that if they drew their guns, they would go cross-eyed looking at the barrel.
"Who are you?" The boy asked, in a calm manner, the wariness that his eyes revealed seeping into his voice.
"Why should I tell you?" The girl replied with the same caution in her voice.
"Fine, I'm Quatre Rabera Winner. Now, who are you?" he stated, a hint of aggravation overlapping the wariness.
"Krysten Elizabeth MaCaffry," she replied, wondering if she should just shoot him.
"Are you one of the survivors?" Quatre asked, stepping closer to get a better look at her. She stepped away.
"The only survivor,"
"Oh, Gods, I'm sorry. Is there a building that's still standing that you can live in?"
"No, Its all rubble,"
"Hmm... You must stay with me then." He decided finally.
"What? No, I can't, I don't even know you, I'll be fine on my own" Krysten said, mentally running through every excuse to not stay with this stranger.
"I insist. I won't let someone roam the streets alone if I can give them a perfectly good home," He said, taking her by the arm and pulling him towards the gundam. After a little resistance, she decided, he guessed, to stay with him and see if it worked out. Quatre settled the girl in the 'co- pilot's' chair and went back down to retrieve her bag. He returned and secured it in a cubbyhole under the seat. She immediately reached for the bag but found her arm span was just a bit short.
"Umm, mister Winner, could you hand me my bag back, there's something I want to get out of it and I cant quite reach it." Krysten asked, reaching for her bag again.
"Of course," He said warmly, handing her the bag, "And please, call me Quatre."
"Ok, thanks ... Quatre," She replied, testing the sound of his first name on her tongue. Fetching her newly acquired CD player and a pair of batteries, she replaced the batteries, put the headphones on her ears and put a burned copy of The All American Rejects in the disc tray. Pressing play, she waited for the sound of Tyson Ritter's voice to fill her ears while she dropped the bag back in its cubbyhole. Meanwhile, Quatre had buckled his seatbelt, and was preparing to take off. They both felt the machine come to life as the blond boy maneuvered it towards his mansion.
Not bad? Horrible? Excellent? What? Tell me!!!!!!!! Pwease. When I get 3 reviews I'll post the next chapter.
Wufei: Injustice! You do the disclaimer, Onna!
'Fei, If you wish to keep your 'sword' intact I suggest you shut that shit hole in your face that you call a mouth and do the damn disclaimer.
Wufei sulks and grumbles
Wufei: She don't own. You don't sue. There I said it. Happy?
Yes I am, thank you. Gives Wu' a cookie for being a good boy
The sun shone brilliantly on the rubble of what once was a city. A teenage girl climbed through the rubble attempting to find another living person. She had long black hair, a fair complexion, and deep blue eyes. The girl, upon her trek through the demolished city, found a black, gray, red, and white backpack with a silver CD player that had flames drawn in black nail polish. The back round changed from purple to green from the angle that you held it, and the flames were a pale ice blue. Scrutinizing the bag further she found a purple mechanical pencil that looked as if the grip had been ripped off and was in need of a new eraser, a yellow legal tablet, a CD case, and a pair of headphones.
The girl shoved everything back into the backpack, slung it across one shoulder, and began her search for life again. Stumbling into the remains of one of her favorite clothing stores, she began to pack all of the remaining space with clothes and changed from the clothes she was wearing, pajama's, into a black and plaid pleated skirt, a black and red corset tank top and a pair of black doc martens. She moved on, gathering supplies that she would need to survive. In the crumbling remains of the sporting goods store, she found a flashlight, a sleeping bag, a tent, a box cutter, a gun which she tucked into the back of her skirt, extra clips of bullets that were stuffed into the tops of her doc martens, and lots of batteries. In the once grocery store, she stocked up on food, personal care items, and hygiene products both feminine and regular. Sitting down amidst the rubble that once was the beauty supply area of the store, she began to brush the tangled black mess that was her hair. After finishing, the girl placed her square black glasses back on her head and looked around for anything that might resemble a road out of this place. Faintly, she heard a rumble that remotely sounded like a jet engine. As it grew louder, the slightly confused teen scanned the skies for the sound, as she was certain it was not coming from anywhere near her on the ground.
Then she saw it. A gundam. The one she had always referred to as Sandrock. It was mostly white, with black at the bottom of the feet and a black and gold shield. It's upper half was a mix of black, pale blue, gold and white with splashes of red every once in a while. The 'wings' that jutted out past the shoulder to serve as shoulder armor were the same pale blue and white. The girl scrambled to pull the backpack onto her shoulders, it had acquired more weight since she went in search of the things she would need to survive on her own, and made her way towards the mammoth machine.
A small shocking blonde head popped out of the cockpit of the gundam and looked around for anything that moved. He saw a small girl running towards him wearing nothing but black and red. He grabbed a pistol from a small compartment in the cockpit and, after tucking the gun into the back of the waistband of his khaki pants, climbed down to the ground to meet the girl.
She slowed to a walk as she neared the gundam and the pilot, dropping her bag a few feet away so that she could get to her gun more easily. They came to stand about a yard away, close enough so that if they drew their guns, they would go cross-eyed looking at the barrel.
"Who are you?" The boy asked, in a calm manner, the wariness that his eyes revealed seeping into his voice.
"Why should I tell you?" The girl replied with the same caution in her voice.
"Fine, I'm Quatre Rabera Winner. Now, who are you?" he stated, a hint of aggravation overlapping the wariness.
"Krysten Elizabeth MaCaffry," she replied, wondering if she should just shoot him.
"Are you one of the survivors?" Quatre asked, stepping closer to get a better look at her. She stepped away.
"The only survivor,"
"Oh, Gods, I'm sorry. Is there a building that's still standing that you can live in?"
"No, Its all rubble,"
"Hmm... You must stay with me then." He decided finally.
"What? No, I can't, I don't even know you, I'll be fine on my own" Krysten said, mentally running through every excuse to not stay with this stranger.
"I insist. I won't let someone roam the streets alone if I can give them a perfectly good home," He said, taking her by the arm and pulling him towards the gundam. After a little resistance, she decided, he guessed, to stay with him and see if it worked out. Quatre settled the girl in the 'co- pilot's' chair and went back down to retrieve her bag. He returned and secured it in a cubbyhole under the seat. She immediately reached for the bag but found her arm span was just a bit short.
"Umm, mister Winner, could you hand me my bag back, there's something I want to get out of it and I cant quite reach it." Krysten asked, reaching for her bag again.
"Of course," He said warmly, handing her the bag, "And please, call me Quatre."
"Ok, thanks ... Quatre," She replied, testing the sound of his first name on her tongue. Fetching her newly acquired CD player and a pair of batteries, she replaced the batteries, put the headphones on her ears and put a burned copy of The All American Rejects in the disc tray. Pressing play, she waited for the sound of Tyson Ritter's voice to fill her ears while she dropped the bag back in its cubbyhole. Meanwhile, Quatre had buckled his seatbelt, and was preparing to take off. They both felt the machine come to life as the blond boy maneuvered it towards his mansion.
Not bad? Horrible? Excellent? What? Tell me!!!!!!!! Pwease. When I get 3 reviews I'll post the next chapter.