The boy barely flinched.

Impressive. But it was just a matter of time now.

Then Yui began to falter. His blows became less precise and his reflexes slowed.

The fight was fading from him.

Good. Wolfe waited. He'd take no risks. Not yet, not until he understood what J had done to Yui. Too much was at stake.

Then it happened; he stilled, but his struggle had been impressive. Worthy of one of Wolfe's creations.

It was time to take him back home.

***

At close quarters, Duo head butted his assailant, cracking is own mask, and tearing into the man's own mask from his face. Anther well-placed head butt sliced a good chunk of flesh from the man's fore head, but assailed Duo's brain with stars and dizzyingly spots.

This was unfair, this guy wasn't dying and the pain in his side was getting worse.

Duo felt the divers hands seize his shoulders and toss him to the side, ripping the oxygen from his lips.

It became a frantic struggle for the apparatus...

Apparatus, Duo's gaze narrowed and he grappled for the tank's straps. With quick jab, he unhooked the diver's harness and flipped over him to seize the tank.

The man had just managed to suck in some air, when the tank hiked off his back and sailed off with Duo's momentum. A second later, the mouthpiece followed.

Air. Duo slithered into the harness, and sucked in air gratefully.

The diver clawed his way toward him, frantically trying to size his tank. With a supreme effort, Duo managed to keep a distance, pained body swimming away in the dark. He hoped the inky depths would eventually hide him and since visibility was less than three feet, he had a good chance.

Cloaking myself, like my good old partner in the past. He thought, amused.

Just a matter of moments.

Moments that came and went.

The darkness stilled.

Duo stopped, hovering in the night, gripping his mouthpiece. He could sense death as it drifted in the tide.

He had taken another life.

Just a day in the life... He told himself, ignoring the guilt.

It was over with.

It was time for business. He checked the new tanks gauge, noting he had more than an hour's worth of air.

He had time to decompress. He also had time to check his wound and perhaps create a makeshift binding.

Luck was with him.

Duo Maxwell lazily smiled. Perhaps diving wasn't that bad after all...

***
He spent an hour making his ascent and managed to stave off bleeding by tearing his undershirt and binding the wound. After that, it was a nerve-racking hour of hovering and swimming, hovering and swimming, until Duo reached the surface. It was an effort, for he found himself blacking out for short moments of time, and a cloud of nausea followed him every step of the way. 

Still, his own determination kept him moving.

Surface-fist thing he noticed was the dark shapes streaking about the oily waters overhead, and the looming dark keel of a boat lapping the waves.
Duo stopped swimming, and studied the boat, considering it's position in the scheme of things. Was it the shrimp boat, or something else? He vaguely made out the splash overhead of something being tossed into the water...

Then the forms, dark torpedo shaped beasts gliding under the waves like hungry wraiths.

Sharks...

Sharks.

Cold crept into his chest, freezing his heart with new terror.

He was going to be eaten alive.

The drums returned, beating in his heart, speeding it's pace with agonizing horror.

When it rained it poured...

Duo tensed his body, squinting in the faint flickering moonlight intruding on the sea's dark. 

It was possible they were just shark fishermen, out for a profitable prize.

He considered it carefully, thinking of the divers, then of the air running out of his tank.

He had no choice...

With a final gulp of air, he made his way to the surface, holding his breath and praying the large fish surrounding the boat would ignore him. Splashing, he surfaced, hands lifting away the cracked goggles and waving them in the air toward the boat. "Hey! I need some help here!"

It was a large boat, about hundred feet or so and it was old, with nets draped over its sides and decks. He noticed the pilot's house was set up from the main deck, and there was a crow's nest overhead. Five men stood on the poop deck; four of them dressed in denim and t-shirts. They were heavily tanned. Fishermen, no doubt, and all tossed out cans of blood red chum.

It was the fifth man who looked up at Duo's call. He was dark skinned, bald, and dressed in an impeccable white suit, with a white wide brimmed felt hat with a black band. "Ah, Mr. Maxwell! We've been expecting you! I trust you had an interesting swim?" He called out, voice booming with friendliness.
His teeth were crisp white, and Duo could see them very clearly in the dark. It was like he was no different than the sharks circling the young man. Still, his friendly demeanor threw the youth. Perhaps he was a fellow agent. 

"Yeah, it was interesting. Could have done without the divers, though..." He said, hoping he was right about the man. But they made no move to assist him. Rather, the fishermen began to clear the deck and clean up the chum. One began to haul up the anchor.

This didn't look good, Duo thought. He wondered exactly what they were planning. Chum and sharks didn't settle well with Duo, especially since he himself was injured." We can talk about this on deck... how about it? I'll surrender..." 
He didn't like giving into the enemy, but he preferred being a prisoner than food to the animals homing in on him. Already shapes were skimming dangerously close, and he could make out their brown dorsal fins and the dark ribbing across their backs. 

Tiger sharks...

Duo swallowed.

Weren't they man-eaters?

The gentleman just smiled. "Ah, come now, Shinigami! Isn't this a contradiction of terms? Death is afraid of Death? I would think you would welcome the Baron when he came to call!" 

The Baron? Who the hell was the Baron? Duo frowned, then tried to smile despite his situation. To show fear was foolish and not to his advantage. They were going to let him aboard-he'd have to find a way to hitch a ride.

But how? They were pulling up anchor and no doubt they'd leave soon. There was no way he could make it to the boat in time with his injuries. Not to mention that he was exhausted. "Pardon me if I'm a little ignorant here." He began. What he needed was time. He had to delay them until he got close enough.

A sharp sandpaper snout bumped into his side, knocking him agonizingly to the left. Spots dotted his vision, making Duo's word spin, then settle. His heart beat louder and harder against his chest. 

All thoughts of getting closer to the boat vanished. They were coming for him... 

"Ah, but you know the Baron Samadi very well Mr. Maxwell. He is the God of Death and his Loa resides in the Tiger..." The man said, his smile never once faltering. He gestured to the sharks. "And I see he wants to get to know you, Mr. Maxwell."

Yeah, he wanted to get real cozy with me, Duo thought nervously, now looking to the dark waves. "So you intend on killing me? Is that it?"

The man laughed, a deep, good natured baritone chuckle. "That is up to The Loa, Mr. Maxwell. It wants your soul! It is my job to make sure it takes it!"

That didn't make Duo feel any better. Even if this nut was talking nonsense (Loa, wasn't that some religious bullshit talked about by some of the islanders?), but at this point. Duo didn't care. A part of him remembered well the feelings of being watched and the drums beating steadily in his ears below.

Was it him?

This Baron?

Who was this guy?

The young man shook his head, trying to drive away the beating, thumping assailing his brain. The dizziness had returned and the pain in his side became unbearable.

"Yes, you hear him. Good, Mr. Maxwell. " The man continued, voice eerily haunting the young terrorist's mind. 

Treading water, Duo met his gaze in an attempt to remove his attention of the thumping. "Yeah, and who the hell are you?"

The man leaned on the rail of the boat, tilting his hat in Duo's direction. "I am called Guede, Mr. Maxwell, I am a Bakor. Your undoing, Little Baron. Remember that. Well, then, I must bid you goodbye. Have a pleasant swim." 

Pleasant swim-yeah right. The boat started to pull away, leaving Duo bobbing in the wake of its waves. Duo flipped them the bird, then shouted as loud as he could. "Fuck off and die Mr. Guede! I'm not dead yet!"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth did something grab him and dig deep around his waist.

Seconds later he was dragged under, with the taste of his own blood in his mouth...

It kept him under, shaking him like a rag doll for several moments then let go, razor teeth ripping away at his wet suit and flesh. When he resurfaced, Guede's boat was a speck in the night....

***

Heero Yui.

Wolfe sat across from the youth's prone form, studying his young face as he lay bound and unconscious on a cot. They were en route to Wolfe's master estate twenty miles south of Haiti. It was private island, a tobacco plantation owned by Wolfe's family for hundreds of years. It was large, covered with rainforest and planting fields. Though now the fields were nothing more than an cover for a fully operational military facility underneath the estate itself, Wolfe still maintained the fields and had a staff of loyal employees separate from his militia.

He was an honorable man, and dedicated to his beliefs and family. His estate, as large as it was, had room for several homes, including one for his frail mother, and his sister and her seven children. Her husband ran the plantation and was, in Wolfe's estimation, a good, honest man.

That is how you ran things. Honesty. You used the honest, loyal people around you to veil any 'disconcerting' activities from your enemies. It was a tactical risk to use the innocent, but important to the growing need to revolutionize a world going to the weak.

He sighed, sipping his wine and listening to the hum of the yacht's engines as they sailed thought the Atlantic to paradise.

Yui was still, but he'd arouse soon. His metabolism was incredible. For the boy was the perfect killing machine. Wolfe did not need doctors to tell him that.

But was he more than a monster?

Swirling his glass, Wolfe studied the liquid and pondered what he knew of Yui. The boy's history was troubling. He moved from place to place, finally setting into a job at a factory on one of the colonies. Yet, somehow, this lifestyle didn't suit him, and he was having difficulty adapting.

Which brought Wolfe to Ms. Darlien.

The girl was attached to Yui and yet, somehow, he failed to bond to her. Was it a failure in his design? Thoughtful, Wolfe rubbed his chin, then decided he'd make a study of his question.

He'd bring them together and see...

***

Blackness gave way to the orange-gold rays of a brilliant sunrise. Cold salt air kissed his face as Duo Maxwell swam back to consciousness. In the distance he could make out the sea lapping the sides of the boat and the roll of the waves as they bobbed the tiny outboard vessel like a cork in a storm. He stared for a moment, feeling the bite of fresh wounds against expertly wrapped bandages. Someone had found him that evening and pulled him out of the water, though try as he might, his mind was too hazy to recall exactly whom or how.

"Trowa... I'm sure it was Trowa, but where the hell is he?" The nineteen-year-old teen squinted, noting the clean, well tended to wallboards of the starboard side of the boat and the polished wooden floorboards. A rental, he thought, easily traced, hopefully help would be there soon. He was in too much pain to move and dared not to peer down at the lacerations, even though Trowa had bound them. He knew he had lost more than enough blood and wasn't ready to face the fact that he was most likely dying.

Then again, Duo Maxwell lived this long didn't he?

Heero, of course, would drag his forsaken, battered body to the elevated captain's chair and man the steering wheel. But he wasn't Heero Yui and that thing...

Shark?

Drums beat in his head, throbbing in his mind with images of skulls and demonic shadows circling him in the dark depths of the sea.

The youth squinted his eyes closed, trembling body convulsing on the deck of the boat.

That thing nearly bit him in half.

He twitched painfully, then with bruised and scraped hands clutched his temples. The beating once more seemed to get louder, like his heart was in his brain. And for a merciless five minutes it seemed to get louder and louder, drowning out the soothing sloshing of the ocean.

For a second a skull's face seemed to smile down at him and he saw the dark skinned man on the boat. The one who dropped the chum and drew the sharks to kill him...

The one who mocked him while he was dying.

Guede.

Death.

The phantom image appeared to leer down at him, white teeth glittering in the morning glow. "You can't escape Death Mr. Maxwell," he began cheerfully. " It's a part of you! But tell me, are you strong enough to face the real Death incarnate and challenge him for his title?"

The boy stared.

He was going insane, for the images and voice were real to him, not disembodied delusions of a fevered mind. Then again, he was in shock and felt clammy hands clutching his battered torn body.

Guede was death.

He was Shinigami.

Who would survive?

This was insane. Duo thought to himself shifting his gaze to the deck. Blood had dried there, but fresh spikes of salt water beaded on its surface, breaking up the particles. A terrorist group had attacked them while diving for a mysterious OZ base.

That's all

That's all that happened.

This Guede guy was a part of this group and had the sharks attack him to get ride of the evidence. There was nothing supernatural about it.

After all, there was no god, and when one died they ceased to exist. Death reigned supreme.

But right now, Duo Maxwell could not convince himself of any sort of reality. Perhaps it was shock; logically he knew it was shock and a delirious mind.

But his heart believed something else. Something far more terrifying than a simple fanatical political group rearing it's ugly head. The longhaired boy was seeing devils.

The bloodstains seemed to come to life and encompass him. A moment later thankful blackness returned to his world.