Disclaimer: The usual deal, I don't own gundam wing or anything like
it...otherwise I'd be sitting on a private beach sipping a glass of
wine....okay so I verify that I have no rites what so ever to this anime.
It's just hella fun messing with the characters.
Key: ' ' means thoughts. " " Means dialogue.
Snow and Blood
Chapter 1
' My story...I guess you could say it really began when I was twelve. And, with most stories, it all started when I met a boy. A boy so beautiful, you needed to touch him to make sure he was there and not a figment of your imagination. An angel...an angel covered in blood and snow. That's what I remember. But I really fucked up everything and anything that I had or could have had with him...you see in a way I betrayed him, his trust, to save my family. I still cannot forgive myself for the atrocious act I had put upon him. He, who had nothing, but fought for everything. It is many years later and I think to myself that I was really lucky to have loved him. Even if it was for a fraction in the timeline of our lives. Every now and then when a certain event sparks my memories of the past, I ask myself a question.if what I know now and I knew what was waiting for me at home after I had betrayed that beautiful angel...would I have done anything different? My answer is always the same...no, because for whatever surety that my path would end the same that day, there is always a hope that...that...I...could have saved them all. '
A young man of mustard brown hair, and intense green eyes looked across the plains of the Russian countryside. He could only concentrate for the life of him on one thing, it was so damn cold. But, I guess that comes hand in hand when it's snowing. This man, Trowa with so much of a past it could last several lifetimes. How many people he has saved...and killed. Eyes...those beautiful eyes, the feature of most women's undoing, hold a wise ness beyond his twenty-two years. Trowa held his jacket closer to his body; the worn preventer patch on his right breast pocket was slowly becoming undone to over use. He fingered it aimlessly. ' I have to get a new jacket, or at least get Cathy to sew this up; I don't know what I would do without her. ' He thought. Trowa scanned the snow covered grass waiting for a sign that his target did in fact live in this area, the last piece of information the Preventer's had received should be accurate.
"At least I hope it's accurate," whispered Trowa out loud to no one in particular.
The Sieg Pro handgun was gripped tightly in his left hand, the metal felt like it was glued to his hand. For, he couldn't remember a time in his life when a gun was not in his immediate vicinity. Trowa sighed, the cold freezing his breath forming it into steam.
'I can't believe I let them talk me into this assignment.' Thought Trowa to himself. Before he let his thoughts start to wallow in his self-pity he reminded himself of the life he could never escape. Because you never stop being a Gundam pilot. At least that's what the others reminded him, 'the others' he couldn't even say their names in his head because it brought back to many unwanted memories. Trowa always worked solo, even when all of the other pilot's worked for the preventers, whether it being full time or whenever they had a problem. It was always the same story with them; they didn't break in partners to well. Since their superiors thought they would be great babysitters since they were the best in both earth and space. But their 'partner's' would either end up quitting, giving up, getting killed, wounded, have mental breakdowns, or cry. So Lady Une came to the conclusion that it was better or 'safer' to the pilot's have their way and work by themselves. Trowa really wished he could visit Catherine more, the circus was a great life, but he began to get restless. And Catherine understood that, sensing his fighting spirit itching to get out. Needing someone to fix his jacket was a good excuse to go see her. She was like a sister to him, so he made it habit to go for regular visit's, he owed her that much. A movement to his left put a stop to his reminiscing. 'It must be him' thought Trowa. His 'target' was Vladamir Polagradav; a high ends weapon dealer, which the preventer agency had to "forcefully remove" because of his involvement with the black market. Of course it didn't help his rap sheet that he was also a pedophile, more than enough reason to blow this guy away. Trowa slowly made his way down the snow-covered slope; almost slipping on some hidden ice but never letting his eyesight wander from Polagradav. Thanking God once again for his acrobatic skills, after trailing Vladamir for about ten minutes a log cabin came into view in front of a forest. 'Gotcha.' Stated Trowa.
Vladamir was having a great day, he had just made a brilliant deal and was soon going to be rolling in more money than he ever thought possible. He walked up to his cabin and pulled the hood of his fur jacket down shaking off any excess snow that got on his jet-black hair. Dull brown eyes peered out of his face, surrounding a Roman shaped nose. His figure was nothing special either; a slight belly sagged over the belt buckle of his pants. Opening the door to his quaint cabin, he hung his fur coat on a wall hook.
"It 'tis a very good day." Said Vladamir out loud.
Not fully knowing that it was going to turn into a very bad day.
Trowa used his catlike reflexes to slowly and cautiously walk to the cabin. With a hand on the door, he edged over to the nearby window. The fog on the glass made visibility quite unclear, but from what Trowa could make out and relying the rest to instinct, he pinpointed that Vladamir was in his recliner by the fire. With Polagradav unaware and relaxed, Trowa knew the time was right to make his move. He sidestepped back over to stand in front of the cabin's door, and gripped the Sieg Pro in both hands. Quickly he raised his right leg and in one powerful kick broke open the door.
Vladamir had barely enough time to register the door being violently smashed open revealing a young man standing in direct line of sight in front of him. Trowa fired off 3 shots; expertly fired into Polagradavs' skull. A pornographic picture of a 9-year-old girl slipped from his hand as his motor functions slowly began to shut down signaling the final darkness invading his body. Trowa stared at the body losing it's fight with death, focusing on the body longer than necessary he wondered when exactly in his life had his senses dulled enough that killing didn't bother him anymore. Yes, this man was more qualified than most to die, but killing was still killing.
"Perhaps I was always this way." Wondered Trowa out loud.
As he slowly lowered his Sieg into the holster on his hip, Trowa walked sure steps over to the roaring fireplace, looking into the dancing flames for a moment. Bending down, he took a poker resting against the brick wall and pushed a log engulfed in fire out and onto the cabin's floor. The flames caught the dry wood of the floor and started to spread quickly. Trowa sighed, casting an expressionless glance back at Vladamir, he stood up from his crouch. Trowa could start to feel the heat seep into his clothes all around him signaling that it was time to make his exit. Walking out of the cabin he left the door open since it wasn't going to matter anyway in a few moments. The snow crunched rhythmically beneath his feet taking him farther away from the burning cabin.
Trowa took out his cell phone while starting the long trek back to his jeep. Punching in the phone number to Lady Une's office he waited for it to pick up. It rang only once before a familiar voice spoke up.
"This is Une." Spoke the crisp voice.
"It's done." Came Trowa's monotone reply.
Lady Une spoke again which was unusual, since she hating dragging on conversations, and this one even more so since her voice took on a timid tone.
"When you check back in, there is another assignment for you. This one is a little personal."
Trowa waited for her to continue, sensing that she needed time to speak the words her mind willed her to say. Everyone told him he had a knack for doing the right thing at the right time. 'Well except for once.' The melancholy thought crept into his head. But before his thoughts could wander Une told him the basis for his new assignment.
"I need you to find someone for me. A relative, her name is Midi."
Key: ' ' means thoughts. " " Means dialogue.
Snow and Blood
Chapter 1
' My story...I guess you could say it really began when I was twelve. And, with most stories, it all started when I met a boy. A boy so beautiful, you needed to touch him to make sure he was there and not a figment of your imagination. An angel...an angel covered in blood and snow. That's what I remember. But I really fucked up everything and anything that I had or could have had with him...you see in a way I betrayed him, his trust, to save my family. I still cannot forgive myself for the atrocious act I had put upon him. He, who had nothing, but fought for everything. It is many years later and I think to myself that I was really lucky to have loved him. Even if it was for a fraction in the timeline of our lives. Every now and then when a certain event sparks my memories of the past, I ask myself a question.if what I know now and I knew what was waiting for me at home after I had betrayed that beautiful angel...would I have done anything different? My answer is always the same...no, because for whatever surety that my path would end the same that day, there is always a hope that...that...I...could have saved them all. '
A young man of mustard brown hair, and intense green eyes looked across the plains of the Russian countryside. He could only concentrate for the life of him on one thing, it was so damn cold. But, I guess that comes hand in hand when it's snowing. This man, Trowa with so much of a past it could last several lifetimes. How many people he has saved...and killed. Eyes...those beautiful eyes, the feature of most women's undoing, hold a wise ness beyond his twenty-two years. Trowa held his jacket closer to his body; the worn preventer patch on his right breast pocket was slowly becoming undone to over use. He fingered it aimlessly. ' I have to get a new jacket, or at least get Cathy to sew this up; I don't know what I would do without her. ' He thought. Trowa scanned the snow covered grass waiting for a sign that his target did in fact live in this area, the last piece of information the Preventer's had received should be accurate.
"At least I hope it's accurate," whispered Trowa out loud to no one in particular.
The Sieg Pro handgun was gripped tightly in his left hand, the metal felt like it was glued to his hand. For, he couldn't remember a time in his life when a gun was not in his immediate vicinity. Trowa sighed, the cold freezing his breath forming it into steam.
'I can't believe I let them talk me into this assignment.' Thought Trowa to himself. Before he let his thoughts start to wallow in his self-pity he reminded himself of the life he could never escape. Because you never stop being a Gundam pilot. At least that's what the others reminded him, 'the others' he couldn't even say their names in his head because it brought back to many unwanted memories. Trowa always worked solo, even when all of the other pilot's worked for the preventers, whether it being full time or whenever they had a problem. It was always the same story with them; they didn't break in partners to well. Since their superiors thought they would be great babysitters since they were the best in both earth and space. But their 'partner's' would either end up quitting, giving up, getting killed, wounded, have mental breakdowns, or cry. So Lady Une came to the conclusion that it was better or 'safer' to the pilot's have their way and work by themselves. Trowa really wished he could visit Catherine more, the circus was a great life, but he began to get restless. And Catherine understood that, sensing his fighting spirit itching to get out. Needing someone to fix his jacket was a good excuse to go see her. She was like a sister to him, so he made it habit to go for regular visit's, he owed her that much. A movement to his left put a stop to his reminiscing. 'It must be him' thought Trowa. His 'target' was Vladamir Polagradav; a high ends weapon dealer, which the preventer agency had to "forcefully remove" because of his involvement with the black market. Of course it didn't help his rap sheet that he was also a pedophile, more than enough reason to blow this guy away. Trowa slowly made his way down the snow-covered slope; almost slipping on some hidden ice but never letting his eyesight wander from Polagradav. Thanking God once again for his acrobatic skills, after trailing Vladamir for about ten minutes a log cabin came into view in front of a forest. 'Gotcha.' Stated Trowa.
Vladamir was having a great day, he had just made a brilliant deal and was soon going to be rolling in more money than he ever thought possible. He walked up to his cabin and pulled the hood of his fur jacket down shaking off any excess snow that got on his jet-black hair. Dull brown eyes peered out of his face, surrounding a Roman shaped nose. His figure was nothing special either; a slight belly sagged over the belt buckle of his pants. Opening the door to his quaint cabin, he hung his fur coat on a wall hook.
"It 'tis a very good day." Said Vladamir out loud.
Not fully knowing that it was going to turn into a very bad day.
Trowa used his catlike reflexes to slowly and cautiously walk to the cabin. With a hand on the door, he edged over to the nearby window. The fog on the glass made visibility quite unclear, but from what Trowa could make out and relying the rest to instinct, he pinpointed that Vladamir was in his recliner by the fire. With Polagradav unaware and relaxed, Trowa knew the time was right to make his move. He sidestepped back over to stand in front of the cabin's door, and gripped the Sieg Pro in both hands. Quickly he raised his right leg and in one powerful kick broke open the door.
Vladamir had barely enough time to register the door being violently smashed open revealing a young man standing in direct line of sight in front of him. Trowa fired off 3 shots; expertly fired into Polagradavs' skull. A pornographic picture of a 9-year-old girl slipped from his hand as his motor functions slowly began to shut down signaling the final darkness invading his body. Trowa stared at the body losing it's fight with death, focusing on the body longer than necessary he wondered when exactly in his life had his senses dulled enough that killing didn't bother him anymore. Yes, this man was more qualified than most to die, but killing was still killing.
"Perhaps I was always this way." Wondered Trowa out loud.
As he slowly lowered his Sieg into the holster on his hip, Trowa walked sure steps over to the roaring fireplace, looking into the dancing flames for a moment. Bending down, he took a poker resting against the brick wall and pushed a log engulfed in fire out and onto the cabin's floor. The flames caught the dry wood of the floor and started to spread quickly. Trowa sighed, casting an expressionless glance back at Vladamir, he stood up from his crouch. Trowa could start to feel the heat seep into his clothes all around him signaling that it was time to make his exit. Walking out of the cabin he left the door open since it wasn't going to matter anyway in a few moments. The snow crunched rhythmically beneath his feet taking him farther away from the burning cabin.
Trowa took out his cell phone while starting the long trek back to his jeep. Punching in the phone number to Lady Une's office he waited for it to pick up. It rang only once before a familiar voice spoke up.
"This is Une." Spoke the crisp voice.
"It's done." Came Trowa's monotone reply.
Lady Une spoke again which was unusual, since she hating dragging on conversations, and this one even more so since her voice took on a timid tone.
"When you check back in, there is another assignment for you. This one is a little personal."
Trowa waited for her to continue, sensing that she needed time to speak the words her mind willed her to say. Everyone told him he had a knack for doing the right thing at the right time. 'Well except for once.' The melancholy thought crept into his head. But before his thoughts could wander Une told him the basis for his new assignment.
"I need you to find someone for me. A relative, her name is Midi."