COLD DAY IN HELL by Transcendent


11 FEARS TO FIGHT
"Civil Blood makes Civil Hands unclean."
William Shakespeare; The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.


STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY. DO NOT READ IF THOU ART IGNORANT.

A red splattered canvas, lighter in the distance and bleeding into the pitch black night, welcomed the reverent eyes of one Heero Yuy. As he dressed, he couldn't help wondering what it was like to be able to lay back down in bed and fall asleep. The knowledge that he had a life to live kept him from dreaming at night, a gift God gave to humans. But all knew Heero Yuy wasn't human. Humans were not perfect and Heero Yuy was.

The life he had left to live, although dismal, he was sworn to until the day he died. Heero's life was like playing poker, each move had its chances. It was a chance to lose or a chance to win. Not only that, but each move could have consequences later in the game and perhaps lead you down a path of destruction that so many walk down day after day. That path would lead you to where your worst nightmares could become reality in which you must live; you can never turn back. But for Heero Yuy it was different, he had no fears. Heero Yuy was fearless.

Reality, as Heero Yuy saw it, was just a game of gin rummy. The only thing he was betting, though, was his own life. Nothing rode on his life…meaning if he died, no one would care. If he alone was dealt the deadliest hand, he would perish alone. If reality was the game of loneliness, Heero intended to win. Alone until he died, that was. He knew that somewhere in those Heavens, he would be joined by the mightiest of gods. Heero Yuy belonged there, where the powerful and potent immortals lived. They were perfect…and so was he.

After taking a shower, Heero made his way to the kitchen. Even he had to eat once in a while. His night had been torture; tossing and turning with the need for a comfortable spot in his trodden bed. The only consolation he could find now was food. Perhaps some toast or his favorite brand of cereal, "Fruit Loops". A convincing name, he thought, for a bunch of O-shaped, multi-colored bits of artificially fruit-tasting wheat.

Looking out his kitchen window, he realized that it wasn't dawn any longer. Maybe, for once, the day would go by fast much like seconds do when one is in a hurry. Heero wanted to find solace in peace. He wanted to be able to go back to bed in the morning like a regular person and to be able to skip and run and play…like a normal child. The only problem was, Heero never had a childhood where he could've done that and therefore he had one of those "lost childhood" type mindsets. He managed to be as free as he could, of course. Heero was allowed to do what he wanted when he wanted…no matter the repercussions or transgressions. The only thing that dragged him away from that hidden luxury was a feeling. Perhaps it was an instinct or just nerves…but it was something. Something like the feeling…the feeling he was having now.

Twitching, he tried to maintain his normal mentality. Heero Yuy hated emotion. It was a wasted cause in his industry and therefore his face was unchanging. Therefore, his features always remained in a neutral state. Some days a deadly glance would dance over his eyes accompanied by a smug frown and other days he managed would keep to his sport of staring. Not curved up or down in any way, but a perfect, symmetrical line. This was Heero Yuy…not some average person. One sign of emotion written on his face or flashing in his eyes could mean death. Some thought it was a plague.

But that matter could be left for another time because on the other side of the room was his uninvited guest. Possibly someone sent to kill him; he got a few of those every month or so. People sent to kill Heero Yuy once and for all. What they didn't know was that he was invincible. On the other hand…this potential threat could be nothing but…a potential. But that was impossible. Heero Yuy didn't get the chills from nothing; he could smell them. It was the stench of gunpowder on their clothes and the smell of adrenaline. They were close.

Heero's eyes narrowed in concentration. He turned while grabbing the gun tucked into his black spandex. But the only place he found himself was in front of a loaded gun. Looking up to meet determined blue eyes squinting as his own were, he growled. How had this person gotten away with such an attack? How had they gotten so damn close?

"Who are you?" he grunted. Heero wanted answers. Perfection couldn't be beaten so easily and he wanted to know how an average person, a woman, could have caught him so very off guard. NO ONE had EVER caught Heero Yuy off guard. What was this…a dream?

They stood straight, flipping layers of blonde hair over their shoulder. The gun remained perfectly between his eyebrows. His intruder's response was bitter, "Je ne parlerai pas pour vous car vous êtes un meurtrier. Elle a été innocente. For that, I cannot and will not tell you."

The only words he could make out of the fast-moving French was "murderer" and "innocent". This was true, he pondered. Heero Yuy was a murderer, an assassin, a soldier. He was the victim of a plan and no one could change that. He was created perfect but only perfect to kill. Without fighting, Heero knew he didn't fit. The only place he felt alive and the only time he felt like blood was flowing through his veins was when he was on the battle field surrounded by the bodies he had killed. The word "innocent" struck him wrong, though.

But curiosity was killing him now. Who, innocent or not, had he killed to make a woman avenge their death? With that in mind, he questioned her. "Who did I kill?"

What kind of answer was he expectiing from that question? She wasn't going to tell him "no one" because that was a lie, a very large one at the least. But he also doubted that she was going answer him in flat honesty.

"Vous respirez donc vous mourez." A malicious and sadistic grin was featured on her round face. Heero caught a flicker of laughter in her eyes. A mistake, he thought, to have shown me your pleasure in killing no one other than myself.

This time Heero caught her enigmatic French message. She had completely ignored his question and instead drew a few unnecessary conclusions. Just because he was alive and everyone he had killed wasn't, didn't entirely mean he had to die also. It wasn't like he made games out of killing innocent people, like the one she had been talking about. Actually…he couldn't remember any innocent people that he had killed…

"Bang-bang, pretty boy."

Heero's prussian eyes widened as he watched her thumb let off the safety. She wasn't joking as his other "assassins" had. They had always cowered at the idea of killing such a powerful figure. Sometimes they would be within reach of their impossible goal, killing the infamous Heero Yuy, but they'd always be one step too late. But this time, he was the one behind.

Slowly, her finger gripped the trigger tighter. His mind raced. There was no possible way to get out of death at this current moment. He had ran from it for so long and finally…it had caught up. He couldn't possible pull away from that bullet in the position he was in; the muzzle was basically mere millimeters from his head. He couldn't, either, pull his own gun up to kill her before she had the chance to kill him. He had been too late.

Was this the end? Had he finally found a never-ending peace? Was Heero Yuy finally going to die?

But he couldn't die now. He had wanted to years ago, when he had nothing to live for. Now, he had killing to live for. He saved others lives by killing those who would have killed them. Logical, yes? Of course it was. But this woman was interrupting this balancing process.

Too bad she wouldn't pay. He couldn't kill her now. Not with that bullet flying towards his unprotected skull only to crash through and rip through his brain. Heero Yuy could not work without his brain. He would lose his perfection; he would never be the same again.
Drenched in sweat, Heero Yuy heaved his body out of bed. His eyes still closed, he pressed a hand to his head. It was a dream. The concept of dreaming in itself was just as frightening as the dream was…but he, perfection, was not scared.

Taking a breath quickly and letting it out slowly, he opened his eyes.

The sun revealed a woman in a tight black dress, hair billowing around her in the wind from his opened window, holding a gun…the same gun from his dream. She flashed him a bright but murderous smile. "Surprise. Go back to bed, Heero Yuy."

Choking back a scream, he watched again as her thumb expertly released the safety and her finger pulled the trigger back. With all his might, Heero closed his eyes and slammed his body into the bed below, hoping he could escape the bullet this time.

His hands went to his face, partly to hold in his sanity and partly in self defense. Why was this happening to him? He had not killed anyone innocent! He has perfect and perfect didn't allow mistakes such as that. He couldn't have killed an innocent person. He wouldn't have killed an innocent person… It was IMPOSSIBLE for him.

But his mind wouldn't let him stop wondering. He had done it. He had killed an innocent person and deep down he knew it. Was this his own way of punishing himself? Was this Heaven's way of killing Heero Yuy? His sanity was virtually the only thing he had left…

She would kill perfection from the inside out because the blood of an innocent can never be cleaned. Heero Yuy had very dirty hands…

Who had it been? Could it have been a woman on a base or a child in a mobile suit? When had he killed…an innocent person? He honestly couldn't remember…and that fact alone would destroy him if this woman didn't.

No longer unaware of her presence, he opened his eyes and sat up. He hadn't been hit; the bullet was now planted into his wooden headboard. Heero scanned the room for the woman…but she was no longer there. She had slipped out just as easily as she had slipped in…through his window.

As a reminder, on his windowsill was a note addressed to one Heero Yuy.

Cher Monsieur Heero Yuy,
The 11 Fears of Perfection -
1) the fear of losing perfection;
2) ...
Je vous salue avec amour,
une femme mystérieuse

A.N.: Since I know I didn't put any translations in here…I'll let you know now. You can go back and translate it to make more sense if you couldn't roughly figure it out yourself at the time of reading…These are in order of appearance. (NOTE: Thank you Amy for correcting my french. Obviously, french isn't my forte...but I love it anyways. Thanks again!)


- "Je ne parlerai pas pour vous car vous êtes un meurtrier. Elle a été innocente."
Generally translates to "I cannot speak for you because you are a murderer. She was innocent."

- "Vous respirez donc vous mourez."
Generally translates to "You breathe so you die."

- "Surprise."
Generally translates to "Surprise."

- Cher Monsieur Heero Yuy
Generally translates to "Dear Mr. Heero Yuy"

- Je vous salue avec amour, une femme mystérieuse.
Generally translates to "I greet you with love, a mysterious woman."

I'm sure you're all asking…who is she? Well, you won't find out until I feel you should. How did she find him? Oh, I don't know. Take a guess! Who did he kill? You should know this. I just watched Endless Waltz, so there is your clue. Lastly, why does she speak French and English? It's simply, really. I bet you'll figure it out so I won't ruin it and tell you now.

As for the chapter names, each name is a line of a poem…as you can see, I started with the first line…which starts with the number 11. Can you guess how many chapters there will be? Ha…aren't I simple?

I will answer any questions as long as I don't deem them stupid. Many people might say "there aren't any stupid questions"…but I don't think that way. Don't be ignorant! I leave context clues…

I encourage you to leave a review. I appreciate in-depth reviews the most. This is a dare: flame me if you wish. I don't care…certainly you should all know that by now. I put this in almost all of my stories. Flames are good. Criticism is good. But you are not God…remember that.

Transcendent, the almost-mighty.

WORD COUNT: 1,783 words not including the author's note. This was a short chapter and for that I send my regrets. Think of this more as a prologue than a chapter, really. Since I redid this on the 26th with more edits, the word count may be higher...

EDITED: June 25 by SilverCaladan and WishfulThinking2. I trust them both and I doubt they missed anything, if nothing at all. If you found a mistake in here, you must be some damn smart kid. You need to put your lip over your head and swallow. On June 26 VOL-chan and Amy kindly gave me some edits, too. Thank you both!