A/N: Well, I don't own Gundam Wing, obviously.
2029 Hours 19 February 1969
Honolulu, Hawaii
He had received the order from Lieutenant Commander Arthur Winslow. A Rear Admiral friend of his had business for the soldier, and Winslow needed him to meet in Washington D.C. as soon as possible. The orders were foggy-short and unclear, but Master Chief Petty Officer Heero Yuy asked no questions. He had completed two missions in Vietnam already, both being 'secret missions' so he knew better than to question orders.
Heero stepped into the living room of his small on-base apartment. It was fairly clean, small but comfortable. It was bliss compared to the small dingy camps he'd lived in for months overseas. He was not sure if he was ready to leave the comfort of Hawaii yet. Beautiful beaches-far from the all-too-familiar scenes of war. But orders were orders, and Heero was prepared for another mission.
The door of the apartment swung open and Heero's roommate, Duo Maxwell walked in carrying a large brown paper bag.
"Hungry, man?" He asked, placing the bag on the table. Duo pulled a few Styrofoam packages out of the bag and the little Chinese boxes. "Well, eat on up. Have any idea what time Quatre is supposed to be in? I've got his food right here."
Heero walked over to the table. "Quatre will be in soon. He's covering a few last minute things before his deployment tomorrow."
Duo grimaced, leaning onto the back of a chair. "Poor guy, being deployed back. Two tours and they still need him. He hasn't been on leave very long at all."
Heero shrugged, not feeling very remorseful his self. "War is war. It's not meant to be fair." Heero would know. His half Japanese heritage gave him a hard road to follow being in the service. Even though the second War-to-end-all-Wars was long past over, not many seemed too keen on befriending a Japanese soldier. Heero did not care much, though. He was a soldier and a damn good one at that, too.
"Still…" Duo looked around the room. He noticed a manila envelope sitting on the table; the crisp telegram still sat inside of it.
"I'm still trying to figure out what a Rear Admiral could want from us. The Chain-of-Command is so messed up these days." Duo ran a hand across his shaven head.
"Whatever it is, Commander Winslow wants us to report immediately."
"Yeah, we're leaving this paradise for Washington, D.C., can't say I'm too thrilled about that." It was true. As great as it was to be anywhere in the United States, no one in their right mind would want to leave sunny Hawaii for cold and monumental Washington.
"Lieutenant Varner said to report to the air-base at 0500. We'll catch our plane to the base."
"Sounds like a winner. I'm taking you're all packed and what not?"
"All done. " Duo smirked.
"Always one step ahead of the rest, aren't you, Heero? It's no wonder they say you're one hell of a soldier."
"Yeah, but my rank doesn't say shit." Heero countered. Duo snorted.
"No one is ever happy with their rank until they're the damn Admiral of the Navy. We just gotta get used to the basics. You'll be in charge of this place in no time, Yuy."
Heero shrugged. Power wasn't something he wanted. He just wanted the chance to complete anything within his grasp. He wanted a wider range to fight within. He hadn't noticed Duo had left the room until the young man came thundering back in, armed with two plastic forks and two cokes.
"Here 'ya go, man. Let's eat before this food gets cold."
The two grabbed their food and headed for the living room where they plopped down onto the floor and set their food on the coffee table. Both sat cris-crossed on the carpeted floor, careful not to spill any of their food. They ate in silence, neither of them in the mood to say more. Probably, both were thinking of the upcoming trip. What could it be about? Why would the Rear Admiral need two soldiers instead of just one? Or maybe a whole platoon. Duo prayed that it'd be something exciting, and somewhat less dangerous than the road of war he'd been on for the past couple of months.
Heero did not own much, but he packed what he had. A few uniforms neatly folded within his junk bag, sets of socks and underwear. The few civilian clothing he did own were stuffed at the top, covering a Cracker-Jack uniform and a set of BDUs.
The Commander had not given much word on what the uniform would be. Heero supposed it would be like any other deployment-he was ready. His white blouse and black slacks hung in his little make shift closet. His boots sat right beneath them. All were perfectly lined up. Strict and straight, just as he had been taught.
Quatre had not come home until late. The two travelers were readying for bed when the blonde haired boy of Arab decent unlocked the door. He was handsome, young and kind looking. Drowsiness sketched over his pale features.
Duo had left a note indicating that his dinner was left in the refrigerator. He sat grabbed his food, heated in the small, temporary microwave and flopped onto the couch. He was tired and gravely so. A third tour in Vietnam was not something he was looking forward to. Quatre didn't bother turning on the television. The news was usually on. None of the boys ever watched the news; not with what was usually shown on there. Long haired, angry looking civilians usually starred in the reports. They held up high large signs, shouted things about how ridiculous the war was-and how ridiculous anyone who involved their selves were. There were huge riots.
"Fucking tree hugging, son-of-a-bitches. Try them in 'Nam and see how well they take to it." Duo murmured when he'd pass by those types.
For a solider, Quatre was a pacifist. He didn't advocate war, but he did not agree with it either. He considered himself neutral-against it because of his morals, supporting it because of his experience. And this time Thursday he'd be decked out in his Navy blues and on a crowded jet back to the battlefront. How lucky was he?
2100 Hours 20 February 1969
Washington DC
D.C. was shit. Heero did not understand why anyone would want to live in the city. That first night, the seaman they had for a driver exited the base and into the heart of the city. The windows were down. They could smell the smoke of cigarettes, the smog, and the stink of the city. Groups crowded the streets, all watching the cars pass by with some deep loathing behind their eyes. Men with long, matted hair held roaches between their fingers, hoping to get every last bit of high they could.
Heero rolled up the window in disgust. The driver sighed from the front seat.
"Some Capital." Duo muttered from beside Heero. He wore a white button down shirt and a pair of black slacks. He looked like he was going to meet the President or something. Heero wore the same. They had been ordered to.
"It's nothing like this on the base. Maybe a few dumbasses here and there, but the little fuckers usually keep their distance from a city full of soldiers." Seaman Daniel Fletcher said. Heero stayed silent. Duo responded.
"Leave it to them. I guess we can't go anywhere without running into some of those jerks, here and there."
They were silent for the rest of the trip. They were headed to their new home-a red brick building, Suburbia in the middle of a cold, concrete city. There was an iron gate surrounding it, well-groomed green grass and a few bushes. The driver pulled up against the curb where the two men could step out of the vehicle and up to the gate. They exchanged orders.
"I wonder why we're not staying on base…" Duo murmured, just loud enough to Heero to hear. The shorter boy glanced at the American.
"Secret mission, Maxwell…" Duo laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head.
"That's true…Say," he glanced around the two. "We should probably head on in. This place sure doesn't look to safe."
Without a word, Heero took the lead, hefting his rucksack over his shoulder. He pressed the fence, which opened with a screech. Duo followed closely behind, his own over-stuffed back hoisted over his broad shoulders. The tall brunette took in his surroundings. There were tall trees all around which was odd for Washington D.C. Above the trees he could see the outlines of different famous monuments…the Washington Memorial…the outlines of the Museum.
Duo followed Heero up the few steps to the front door. However, before Heero could knock, it was thrown open and a tall, thin woman stood there, smiling kindly at the two.
"You must be Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell. I've been expecting you."
Well, there's the first chapter. I tried hard enough to make the military lingo sound as…correct as possible. Being a JROTC junkie and reading military novels (including the Halo novels) only gets you so far. Anyway…I hope you enjoyed it.