Wanders: Il Caduto Dimenticato
By Eve
WARNING: *rolls eyes* really, don't ya think it's a basic waste of time? I mean come one, read the whole story chapter by chapter and I guarantee uneasiness in the stomach area. No one under seventeen who can't handle explicit use of violence should be reading this. Don't pull a Jackass and jump off your roof. Pulling anything off in this story will give you the title of supreme moron. Thank you for listening to this public service announcement.
DISCLAIMER: *pulls out the Twilight Zone theme* Gundam Wing belongs to me… ^__^
DEDICATION: Since I haven't reached the Oscars yet, you're going to have to settle for the good old fashion thank yous from lil' ol' me. Starlight-oneechan, Ani-imouto, and oneechan for the constant support and love and all the good "positive" feelings. Everyone else, thank you for reading.
Short AN: All right, I promise I won't talk for long. I want to apologize for any queasy stomachs that I might cause. The X-Files and French homework don't mix as you'll soon find out. And plus imouto thinks I'm just positively charming… Glad I can be such a wonderful influence on you, dear. ^__^ As a little request of the sorts, is there anyone willing to draw me some fanart? I'm really interested to see the readers depiction of what the characters look like in their own minds… Just let me know. *stops rambling* Enjoy!
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Chapter Seventeen: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
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Thus I am banished from my bliss
By craft and false pretense,
Faultless without offense
And of return no certainty is,
And all for the love of one.
Anonymous
Italics—[thoughts]
//Italics//---[flashbacks]
//"It takes one great man, to create a great change among nations. And it takes one great sacrifice, to make it permanent."// Harrington had been a bitter old man. Years of his ideas and his philosophies being down played over and over again had caused him to take firm action against those who didn't even think twice to accept him, those being everyone. And now he too was slowly beginning to follow the footsteps of is predecessor.
Larson sighed, making his way down the dark corridor to his personal office. He needed a break from the meeting. They had attacked Brussels, Paris, parts of Romania, Moscow, Sydney--- it just seemed like now, and they were killing people for just the sake of killing people. There had to be a purpose amongst this power struggle. The struggle that he himself had every hand in starting.
//"Woe is the tragic hero. Do not let yourself fall to the clutches of reinstating yourself as a man. That was my one and only mistake. Succeed where I have failed."//
What was the use to any of this anymore? The very purpose that had driven him to stand was only leading to fall. And the scariest concept of it all was that he didn't have any cushion to fall on. He closed his eyes as he reached his door.
Bravery is for fools…
…only cowards step into conflict head on…
Darkness greeted him as he entered the room, fumbling for the light switch. He paused, hand in mid-air, the smell of human flesh invading his senses. It filled his lungs and could feel his muscles forcing the bile up his throat.
//"Control the battle field, young man. But beware, just because you are not surrounded by the actual fighting doesn't mean that you are not near the war."//
Woe is the tragic hero…
…Solely convinced that the injustice was done against him…
-He is a FOOL-
Larson gripped the door, his hands searching for the light. It didn't help that it was night either, the glow of the nighttime lights had barely allowed him to reach his office in one piece. He let out a frustrated sigh.
"GODDAMNIT!"
…a fool…
He slammed his hand against the wall, pain searing through his skin. The lights flashed on and he felt himself stop breathing altogether.
//"Trust no one, but yourself. Surround your being by all your enemies and let your friends know nothing about your life."//
-Be—in—Control-
thump-thump-thump-thump
A severely disfigured body hung from the ceiling fan in his office. He pushed himself off the doorway, grabbing for anything that could hold him up to steady himself.
Apathy?
Two bullet holes to the side of the neck with the shirt torn in several places.
thump-thump-thump-thump
No apathy…
…no hatred, no love, no hope…
-NO PLAN-
The blood's still fresh, he realized, sliding to the ground. His knees hurt like hell. The room was spinning. He could hear the voices in his head screaming and crying, crying and screaming.
Mother…
…father, my mentor…
There were no eyes in the sockets of the body, but he felt the chilling stare. The facial expression were still contorted in the same way before the poor fool had died. He forced his eyes to look up and search for anything that would lead him to the person who had indeed done this.
//"Trust no one, but yourself could be the greatest advice I could give you dear boy. But, but the most profound piece of advice is do not under any circumstance get yourself involved in a situation that you know in the back of your mind you can't get out of."//
"I am a fool," he whispered crawling over to the body. He had pushed everything away and inside of him, ignorant of the fact that when the time came it would indeed consume him.
Flames…
His eyes widened, falling onto the neck of the body. A small tattoo on the right side was visible in the faint glow.
Moving flames, softly crying…
At the foot of the body, lay a violet.
//"Betrayal is something that they are trained to never tolerate. They kill if necessary."//
And in front of the violet, carved into the hardwood floor were the words:
Silence kills the messenger.
**
"We're almost there," Dorothy called back to Quatre with a chuckle. Apparently, the Sandrock pilot had failed to mention that he wasn't exactly the most "in tuned" with nature. She sat down a top a large rock in the middle of their path uphill, waiting for Quatre to catch up.
Fifty-four degrees to the right.
"This is what happens when you lose sight of yourself for awhile," she muttered, grabbing her water bottle out of her backpack. She chuckled as Quatre finally reached the rock she sat on. Her tracker beeped and she handed the drained man.
North four miles.
"Bloody Allah."
She laughed. "Not exactly your cup of tea, mon cher?"
"Let me reiterate this for you, bloody ALLAH."
Dorothy shook her head, eyes wandering to the lake that lay beside the mountain. Bitter memories, she mused. It's amazing how much I've actually forgotten. It's like a sick and twisted way of rediscovering myself.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"You already did," she shot back. Quatre rolled his eyes and handed her back the water bottle and turned her to face him. His hand crept up and down her arms giving her goosebumps despite the warm weather.
"I'm serious, Dorothy."
She sighed. "You want to know about our mechas, am I right?"
He nodded.
"Well, I guess for starts each of them are respectively named after a Greek goddess."
He looked at her oddly. "Specific reason?"
Dorothy shrugged, taking a sip of the water. "Nope, Doc was just a literature nut. Apparently, she read Homer's The Iliad twelve times."
"Wow, she's ambitious."
"Bored too," she continued. "Persephone is the obvious. Hilde just liked the name so much, it stuck. Mine's actually quite funny. I got stuck with Hera, the mother goddess probably because I'm the most, well I don't want to say feminine, but just because most men come after me 'cause I look good in a cat suit. Sad, isn't? Anyway, Cat's is Aphrodite-Ceres the ironic symbolism and all-"
"What do you mean symbolism? None of you had mentioned at all her situation," he blushed as he realized he had interrupted her.
Her eyes darkened. "Aphrodite really didn't care what side she was on as long as she was on the side that was victorious. Her motives were always hidden in the dark… Ceres on the other hand went insane at the slightest misfortune, making her the most unpredictable… "
Quatre decided against pursuing the topic. "What about Miss Relena and Miss Merian?"
"Merian's mecha is called Athena for the obvious reasons again. She's the goddess of war and wisdom. And finally, Rel's is called Artemis because of the goddess ability to survive and to hunt at any cost, but at the same time manage to be the most trustworthy of all the goddesses…"
Dorothy motioned for him to stand up. They were making good time, so they had to continue up the steep hill. She sighed, breathing in the mountain air as it got cooler. Now she remembered why she chose this place. The very essence was a huge comfort…
…tranquility…
"What about the systems?"
She sighed, not really in the mood to explain even further but then decided against it. He would need to know, in case the unpredictable happened.
"Our mechas are completely different from what you're used to seeing," she began. "They look almost demonic like, which is the best way to describe it When I first saw Hera, I wouldn't go near her for weeks. I mean there was the obvious, me being eight and a half at the time… But when activated, the eyes where the pilot is located light up. It was just creepy…" She paused and shook her head, ignoring the memories that threatened to assault her mind once more. It was bad enough she couldn't sleep at night.
"There is no manual handling," Dorothy continued. "When you enter the cockpit, the K-System is already active by your body temperature and several wires attach to your body. The K-System which is based on human movement then activates the main frame, allowing you to move mentally the mecha to your hearts desire. The danger is that if there is a system malfunction, you could be killed instantly and the mecha is program to self-destruct."
Quatre stopped in shock. "Doctor Peterson created it so that is something actually-"
"-goes wrong that no one could get there hands on it. Yes, that was the initial intent when she built them. But since we do our own repairs and management, you could say that each of us added our own little flare to the K-System. No two are alike."
The leaves began to rustle as the wind picked up. Dorothy stopped, eyes darkening. She motioned for Quatre to move behind her. The wind began to howl loudly and the ground began to rumble. Dorothy's eyes widened as the ground began to spilt and head towards the both of them.
"RUN!"
But all Quatre could do was stand still, mouth opened wide and eyes frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding truck. His empath abilities alerted him to the massive range of human emotions assaulting him.
Pain-
-determination-
…anger and fear…
But even that couldn't awake him from his stupor as the large mecha burst into the air, eyes flashing an angry green. He barely heard Dorothy's cries and then amazed whisper of "Aphrodite-Ceres" escape her lips. His mind was filled with one thought and one thought only.
There is no limit to insanity.
**
All right folks, good place to stop there. This chapter was getting too long, so I've decided to split it. I know that's what I said about the last chapter, but I thought it was better as a stand-alone. *peeks ahead* After this chapter and the next, the last three are going to be long. So I'll make up for the cruel and ruthless cliffhangers. I do apologize.
I also know that I said that I would indeed give you a preview of the sequel and the finally book to The Wanders Chronicles, but that would just give the ending away and I'd *confuse* the hell outta everybody. *innocent look* And I don't wanna do that you know…
And finally, I feel at ease now that Micah's dead. Didn't like him very much you know? And it wasn't fair that he was getting left out of being insane. I believe in character equality.
Subaru: Uh-huh…
Hey you don't even have the right to complain, baka. You get the most interesting paring in my next masterpiece. Right 'neechan?
Subaru: [^__^;;]