Throughout the Earth sphere and colonies, peace reigned, with an iron fist. The world was a recently baked cake with a smooth, shiny icing but a badly mixed base, lumps of flour and ants encased in sugar floating about, just waiting to be unearthed. Sensitivity had been turned up to full blast, jail sentences being handed out to Earth sphere teachers for telling the colony children that "Gundam" was spelt G-U-N-D-A-M not C-O-N-Q-U-E-R-E-R.
The clever retreated to their "middle of nowhere" getaways, biding their time until there had been a few minor scuffles and the world leaders had figured out a more realistic way to maintain peace. A black eye or blood nose was exactly what was needed to make people open their eyes.
Quatre looked up from his binoculars and sighed. He pulled over a book and began to flick through the pages absent-mindedly before sighing again. He shut the book with a snap in his right hand. He weighed it in his hand before throwing it across the room. It nicked a large porcelain vase on its way. It wobbled in a typical comedic fashion before tipping over and smashing on the floor, shards of colour spinning away into every corner of the room.
Quatre yawned. He was bored.
There was only so many times that you can re-read a book and only so many times that you can look at the view saying "Beautiful". He had eventually moved through all the descriptive words in the dictionary from "Delightful" to "ordinary" to "nauseating".
This had been going on for half a year now. He missed to contact with the other pilots. He had tried contacting them…
(Ring ring)
"Hello?"
"Duo, it's me Quatre"
"Again? What's up?"
"Ummm…just wanting to see how you were doing…"
"I'm fine. I was fine when you called yesterday, the day before, the day before that, the day before that, the day before that, and the day before that day."
"But wait, I didn't call you the day before the day before the day before the day before the day before yesterday. I was sick that day. I called the day before that day."
"Oh…really? Well, I was fine then too."
"Excellent"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"Quatre?"
"Yes?"
"What do you want?"
(sound of phone hanging up)
"Quatre? Quatre? Helloooo? Dammit"
…
Quatre didn't even want to think about trying to ring Heero again …
(Phone rings)
"Hello?"
"Heero! Hi, it's Quatre, how are you? It's been a long time!"
"Good bye""
(Phone rings again)
"What?"
"Hey, it's Quatre, how have you been?"
(sound of phone hanging up)
(Phone rings again)
"Quatre, bugger off"
"Bu-"
(sounds of phone being yanked from the wall and stamped on many, MANY times)
…
Quatre shuddered.
He wandered over to his bed and let himself fall onto the sheets. Quatre's bed was normally so flat that they it was probably made with a level ruler, so Quatre didn't notice the tall pointy bump in the sheets…well…he didn't notice until he had fallen on it.
"OW"
The young man whimpered as he pulled the strange object out from under the duvet. It was a bishop from his old chess set. It must have landed in his bed when he had thrown the pieces across the room in frustration last night. He pulled his shoulder back and prepared to add the bishop to the pile of unloved items in the farthest corner of the room. He hesitated, he had an idea.
Duo had asked Quatre what he had wanted. Company. The bishop was from a chess game that needed two players.
Quatre rushed over to his chest of drawers and pulled out a leather-bound book, full of the numbers that the other pilots didn't know he had, and a mobile phone. His fingers flew across the numbers. The familiar dial tone sounded in his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hello Trowa? It's me, Quatre…don't worry about how I got this number. Are you free this week?"
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