d o w n w a r d s p i r a l
Chapter One
Mission Status: Complete
Casualties: None
Injuries: 04 - minor cuts/brusing
Enemy Casualties: Sixty-three (63)
Blah, blah, blah.
Boring, boring, boring.
I'm reading a mission report over Heero's shoulder. He's in the process of coding it before sending it off: it's just a load of technical jargon that drags on for pages and pages, which basically translates into this: we have to lie low for a couple of days.
Five of the worlds most feared terrorists cooped up in the same house together for two days.
I can think of better ideas.
I mean, sharing a dorm room with Heero is enough to send anyone doo-lally, let alone being stuck with all four of the fucking psychos.
Heero.
I'm surprised that I'm still standing, as I'm currently so close to him that we're basically sharing oxygen - he's usually tried to kill me by now.
No, wait: spoke too soon.
The air rushes past me as I'm pushed against a wall: my breath forced from my lungs.
You have to admire that kind of speed.
He punches me in the stomach - I hear it rather than feel it, at first - that sick, wet sound of flesh hitting flesh. The kind of sound you wouldn't mind forgetting.
And then I'm doubled over, coughing my guts up.
Heero sits back down and continues to type.
You know, for an emotionless bastard: he has one hellava temper.
Chapter One
Mission Status: Complete
Casualties: None
Injuries: 04 - minor cuts/brusing
Enemy Casualties: Sixty-three (63)
Blah, blah, blah.
Boring, boring, boring.
I'm reading a mission report over Heero's shoulder. He's in the process of coding it before sending it off: it's just a load of technical jargon that drags on for pages and pages, which basically translates into this: we have to lie low for a couple of days.
Five of the worlds most feared terrorists cooped up in the same house together for two days.
I can think of better ideas.
I mean, sharing a dorm room with Heero is enough to send anyone doo-lally, let alone being stuck with all four of the fucking psychos.
Heero.
I'm surprised that I'm still standing, as I'm currently so close to him that we're basically sharing oxygen - he's usually tried to kill me by now.
No, wait: spoke too soon.
The air rushes past me as I'm pushed against a wall: my breath forced from my lungs.
You have to admire that kind of speed.
He punches me in the stomach - I hear it rather than feel it, at first - that sick, wet sound of flesh hitting flesh. The kind of sound you wouldn't mind forgetting.
And then I'm doubled over, coughing my guts up.
Heero sits back down and continues to type.
You know, for an emotionless bastard: he has one hellava temper.