*Insert mindless ramblings about mental health and some thanks. And a little bit about how for some really bizarre reason I have been delving into 1x2x5 fo shizzle.*
It is amazing how when you finally register all of the horrible things that you haveto do your job, you can somehow disconnect yourself from it. It is almost like the feeling when you cut. Sometimes you can get that weird feeling of being disconnected from your body. Almost as though you are watching yourself slide that blade against your skin. You see the person raise their arm that is covered in blood, up to their lips to taste it. You just cannot stop yourself no matter how much you scream. And in war, it is just the same. Someone else controls your body and it is them that kill. It is the God of Death that takes control of me. And all I can do is pound against this box that he has locked me in.
I take no enjoyment out of killing. I hate how I have to do it. I have to end people's lives. It is what I have been trained to do, and other than stealing it is the only thing that I have ever been good at. It seems silly that I have to atone for my past sins by performing new ones. I know now that hell awaits me when I die no matter what I do, and perhaps it is there that I will meet some of the tortured souls I have to wait for me there. But now having someone to live for, having Heero, this mission does not feel the same. Countless other missions where I would not have cared if I lived or died seem like a thing of the past. I want to cling on to a life that I have the final say in. I am not about to let anyone but me tell me when Duo Maxwell's light goes out when he leaves this plane of existence. If only to have that one moment after all this is over, to tell Heero I love him too. Dammit. Now is not the time to get sentimental.
Deathscythe knelt in the forest a few miles away from the OZ base, and we waited together for Heero to begin his assault in Wing. Deathscythe, ever losing him would be like losing one of my own limbs. A Mobile Suit made from Gundanium, he was made for death, and he was my closest companion. He had seen me at my best, my worst, and my bloodiest.
The sensors inside the cockpit beeped to life as explosions ripped through the base's buildings ahead of us and suddenly the world was engulfed in the light of his beam rifle. Damn Heero, flashy as always, but one hell of a distraction. I couldn't help but smile at myself as the flames licked the sky and smoke plumed. It was time for the God of Death to rise again. The soldiers were completely focused on Wing, and in the panic had no idea there was another Gundam coming at them from the other side of the base.
I willed my soul to calm itself as I checked the screen to my side which had flashed up a detailed area plan, and it indicated the building that the target was supposed to be in. And just like we had planned, Deathscythe and I crossed the defence perimeter unnoticed and made our way over to the building, while the raging sounds of war echoed around us. It's weird how a machine openly built for death and destruction would have such specialised stealth capabilities, but they allowed me to complete my mission.
A few buildings in, and I moved my Gundam to kneel down again. I tapped myself down one last time, crossing off a mental checklist of the weaponry that I had brought with me, before dropping out. I knew where I was going by heart, and the Lieutenant Colonel's face was burnt into my memory, almost like the charred skin of the OZ soldiers around me that had been caught in the explosion. I couldn't forget that photo of him either, his wife and his child. /Leverage./ Shut up I can't have you distracting me now; I will deal with you later! And I would. I knew the voices would return after this was done and it would criticise and blame me for everything that would happen this night.
I skirted the sides of the buildings in the darkness, my black clothing turning me into nothing but a shadow. I was hidden from the soldiers as they ran towards the danger rather than making the smart move of running away from the attacking Gundam. They should all know by now, that no one who has ever seen a Gundam has lived to talk about it.
My destination wasn't particularly special one, just another concrete bunker holding the offices surrounded by warehouses and the soldier's dormitories. Hopefully, the data that Professor J and G had sent to us was correct. His personal office was supposed to be somewhere on the top floor of this building.
Taking a deep breath I entered the code I had been given on the computer lock of the front door, relieved when the mechanism showed a green light. I slipped through the door, praying that there would be no one there to meet me, that they would all be too distracted by Heero and Wing. I was thankfully greeted by empty hallways, as well as empty stairwells, the fluorescent lights above showering the rooms with an almost clinical feeling more akin to a medical establishment than a military base. This wasn't right. It was too easy.
When I reached the top floor I looked over each room on the top floor methodically, checking around the furniture, and half expecting to see soldiers cowering in a corner through fright and self-preservation. So far each empty room had been utilized as simple offices or as storerooms. The last room though, the one at the end of the corridor must be the room I hoped. And if he wasn't in this one, then it was likely that he had escaped us, and we would have to go through all of this again, while in the meantime he would be free to continue with his truly evil plan. Satan would probably have welcomed him and we would be dammed for allowing it to happen.
Raising my gun again, I pushed the door gently and it slowly swung inwards. Off the latch, that is never a good sign. The large room was as you would expect from a pompous soldier of rank, like most of the OZ officials. A huge table in the middle of the room, framed by the large window behind it which flames could be seen flickering through. Facing out of the window a man sat in a high backed black leather chair. It was almost as though he was relishing in the destruction laid out before him, all of the death.
"Children shouldn't play with guns," he said. There was a hint of madness in his voice.
"Who said I'm playing?" I trained my gun on the back of his head, steeling my resolve to end this man's life and give a child a fatherless upbringing. But from what this man was planning to do then that was probably a good thing.
"So many have tried to kill me in the past… But never a punk kid like you," he laughed. And I resisted the urge to fire my gun into the back of his head.
The chair spun. Lieutenant Colonel Noire Vandran looked exactly like he did in the photograph, except for the maniacal grin plastered across his face. His hands rested in his lap, cradling a handgun, and along with the rest of him he was covered in blood, but not his own. Specs of the dried blood had landed on his cheeks.
"You're a colonist, aren't you? And a Gundam pilot no doubts by what I have heard over the radio. Born in space? I can tell by your stink. Ha! You call yourself a human!?" Vandran's hand clutching the gun began to rise but I was too quick for him, and two of my own bullets hit him dead centre in the chest and he fell back against the chest, wide eyes gazing at me in surprise.
"More human than you, it would seem. It's cute that you think you're scary. But I have seen scary, and you don't have his smile." The God of Death grinned through me. He was truly in control now. I moved closer to the bleeding man before me and levelled my gun between his eyes so that he could see his death. But by moving across the blood splattered room, I caused something to come into view that was previously hidden behind the table. Short curly blonde locks, a denim dress, and a teddy bear that had been a birthday gift on her 5th birthday, all drenched with blood. His daughter Olea lay on the floor in the crimson pool, her body littered with bullet holes. Her expression filled with a mixture of pain and betrayal.
"You're a monster…" I turned to face him again, and as hard as I tried to turn off my emotions the faces of those 10 children that I had killed last month flittered across my mind.
"No, she was the monster," blood spurted from his mouth and trickled down his chin as he tried to laugh.
"She was your daughter. She was innocent."
"Her mother was a colonist…" And he was still grinning after I emptied my clip into his face.
Short one. Mainly as I have never written anything like this before. I am not happy with it. I tried to continue it but I loved that last line. I wanted to Duo to see that there are worse demons than him alive in the world, and he needs to keep fighting to kill them all, obtain peace, yadayada. This is all starting to wrap up now I guess.