Justice From The Other End
Wufei sped on ignoring the voices in his head. He felt horrible, about both walking out on his "friends" and about stealing Duo's truck. The scenario kept playing over and over in his head; Quatre asking him intently what was wrong, him thinking of something that wasn't too far off from the truth, him going along with it, Quatre believing him and telling him that he'd always be there for him. It was just ... too much happiness, and he hadn't felt happy in a very long time. Not since he'd been with Meiran. She was his match - always preaching about honor and justice. He had loved her, and still did, but his pride was too great to admit that he was weak ... in any sense of the word. Wiping away a tear, he drove into a parking lot and parked the car as close to the door of the building as posible. Locking the doors and putting his katana in the place where it was always kept, he began to walk in. He stopped half way and spun around on his heel - he'd left the car keys on the hood of the beaten up car. Glaring angrily at them as though *they* were the source of his problems, the boy picked them up, stalked into the lobby and slammed them down on the counter.
"M...M...May I help you?"
"Yes. I'd like a room as high up in this," he paused, and looked at the little stack of cards infront of him. When he looked up, the man at the counter, who must have been atleast twenty years older than the boy, wimpered. "In this, *Holiday Inn*. I'll be the only one in the room and I'll only be staying for one night."
"Thank you, sir, if you'll just sign these papers and -"
"Yes, I know, the fee is $35.50 a night. Here you go," and he slammed down fourty bucks down on the counter, making the man flinch and jump.
"Th..Thank you Mr," he paused to look at the paper," John Smith. Your room number is 532E on the fifth floor. Have a nice stay.'
"Oh, and one more thing you," Wufei narrowed his eyes for the last part of the sentence, " If an American boy with a braid, a scarry Japanese boy with a gun, a blonde Arabian, and a quiet, tall boy with a uni-bang walk in here, in that order, there is *no* Chang Wufei here. Or I *will* hurt you. Good night," and with that, he spund around on his heel and stalked over to the elevator.
Once on the fifth floor, he wandered the hallways, trying to find his room. On the quest for room 532E, he found two other things before he found his room. The first was that he, Chang Wufei, regretted doing something for the second time in his life. The first thing he regretted was not telling Meiran that he loved her. This time, he regretted walking out on his fellow pilots and leaving them to wonder why. In all truth, they were some of the only people he'd ever trusted, and the only people he'd let, however slight, into his personal life and past.
The second thing he found was more of an observation than a personal discovery. While looking out a window, he noticed four people get out of a nice red convertable. 'That car ... it look's just like ... it's ...'
"Damn it!" he yelled, when he saw the second one to enter the building had a long braid trailing behind him. At that, he took off running, hoping he'd find his room before they went looking for him and found him first. 'If an American boy with a braid, a scarry Japanese boy with a gun, a blonde Arabian, and a quiet, tall boy with a uni-bang walk in here, in that order, there is *no* Chang Wufei here' And he stopped. 'I didn't describe them, did I? Shit, I did! And he bloody idiot at the front desk will *crumble* in the face of Heero's dear gun. Weakling.' Looking up, he saw that the room in front of him was room 535. Turning around, he saw room number 532. With a *humph* and a click, he opened the door, jumped in, and locked it behind him.
"Now all I can do is wait, and they'll find me soon enough, and then they'll force me to come back to the house. They'll force me to talk and - no. Why am I worrying? I am a soldier, and I *will* survive this with *all* of my dignity intact." Falling back on the bed, he closed his eyes. Slowly, he took his tanktop off and to accustom himself to cold air of the room. 'Hmph. The air conditioning on in the autumn. Idiots.' But Wufei had little time to ponder such things, as just as he had his tanktop fully off, he was jolted up by a knock at the door.
"Open up! It's the police! Come out with your weapons surrendered and your hands in the air!" 'Huh? Why are the police here?' He waited about a minute before he answered their call.
"Why are you here? I have done nothing wrong."
"The man at the front desk called us because of your death threat. Now, open your door before we have to open it ourselves." 'Not again. This is *not* my day for living on this god forsaken planet'
"Whatever you say, but I will *not* give up my katana! I don't care what you do to me, the katana stays by my side."
"Sir, all we ask is that you *hand* your weapon to us and come out with your hands up. We will return it to you as soon as you're let out of the jail cell. Now please..." 'I give up! I'd better just go before they come in here and bother me some more!' With a loud sigh, he walked up to the door, un-did the chain lock and padlock and slowly opened the door with his foot. His hands were out, surrendering his prized katana and his head was down to show that he was shamed. Looking up, he dropped the sword and forgot all about his shame. His cheeks flushed red with anger and all he could spit out was:
"WHAT?"
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Whoo! Thank you Chang Meiling, Mara Jade, and Tarnished Oversoul (again ^_^) for reviewing! You guy help, a LOT. In the long run, it's all written for those that read, because, otherwise, what other relevence is there in *writing* a fan fic! I'm sorry I'm stalling so much on the plot, but it will all come together in time! I finally thought of where I'm going with this, so, yay! In the mean time, I'm working on three different short stories, but I think the first to go up will be called "Jessi Is A Pothead". It's some pretty heavy stuff, about druggies, killings, and 'tainted love'. Yup, good themes, huh? Here's a preview...-
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Music filtered in my right ear and out the other, Metallica, I think ... I don't quite remember what kind it was or who was around me. The only thing that I *can* remember is that I was at a large party sitting on someone's couch with a plastic cup full of Pepsi and two ice cubes. Oh yeah, and Jessi Campton. I remember Jessi Campton standing infront of me in her fashionably torn bell bottoms (she tore them herself) and the tie-die shirt with the skull with the jester's hat on it. The shirt was glowing in the black light and her hair was dyed purple and was in cornrows ... only it looked a funky blue (the black light again). She was perfectly angelic standing there infront of me ... except for one problem. She was flirting with my best friend, Jake Stanford, who knew damn well I was standing, er, *sitting* right infront of them. He was also aware of the fact that I had a crush on her.
________________________________________________________________________________________
So there! In your reviews this time, tell me what you think of the beginning of that. Thanks!
Wufei sped on ignoring the voices in his head. He felt horrible, about both walking out on his "friends" and about stealing Duo's truck. The scenario kept playing over and over in his head; Quatre asking him intently what was wrong, him thinking of something that wasn't too far off from the truth, him going along with it, Quatre believing him and telling him that he'd always be there for him. It was just ... too much happiness, and he hadn't felt happy in a very long time. Not since he'd been with Meiran. She was his match - always preaching about honor and justice. He had loved her, and still did, but his pride was too great to admit that he was weak ... in any sense of the word. Wiping away a tear, he drove into a parking lot and parked the car as close to the door of the building as posible. Locking the doors and putting his katana in the place where it was always kept, he began to walk in. He stopped half way and spun around on his heel - he'd left the car keys on the hood of the beaten up car. Glaring angrily at them as though *they* were the source of his problems, the boy picked them up, stalked into the lobby and slammed them down on the counter.
"M...M...May I help you?"
"Yes. I'd like a room as high up in this," he paused, and looked at the little stack of cards infront of him. When he looked up, the man at the counter, who must have been atleast twenty years older than the boy, wimpered. "In this, *Holiday Inn*. I'll be the only one in the room and I'll only be staying for one night."
"Thank you, sir, if you'll just sign these papers and -"
"Yes, I know, the fee is $35.50 a night. Here you go," and he slammed down fourty bucks down on the counter, making the man flinch and jump.
"Th..Thank you Mr," he paused to look at the paper," John Smith. Your room number is 532E on the fifth floor. Have a nice stay.'
"Oh, and one more thing you," Wufei narrowed his eyes for the last part of the sentence, " If an American boy with a braid, a scarry Japanese boy with a gun, a blonde Arabian, and a quiet, tall boy with a uni-bang walk in here, in that order, there is *no* Chang Wufei here. Or I *will* hurt you. Good night," and with that, he spund around on his heel and stalked over to the elevator.
Once on the fifth floor, he wandered the hallways, trying to find his room. On the quest for room 532E, he found two other things before he found his room. The first was that he, Chang Wufei, regretted doing something for the second time in his life. The first thing he regretted was not telling Meiran that he loved her. This time, he regretted walking out on his fellow pilots and leaving them to wonder why. In all truth, they were some of the only people he'd ever trusted, and the only people he'd let, however slight, into his personal life and past.
The second thing he found was more of an observation than a personal discovery. While looking out a window, he noticed four people get out of a nice red convertable. 'That car ... it look's just like ... it's ...'
"Damn it!" he yelled, when he saw the second one to enter the building had a long braid trailing behind him. At that, he took off running, hoping he'd find his room before they went looking for him and found him first. 'If an American boy with a braid, a scarry Japanese boy with a gun, a blonde Arabian, and a quiet, tall boy with a uni-bang walk in here, in that order, there is *no* Chang Wufei here' And he stopped. 'I didn't describe them, did I? Shit, I did! And he bloody idiot at the front desk will *crumble* in the face of Heero's dear gun. Weakling.' Looking up, he saw that the room in front of him was room 535. Turning around, he saw room number 532. With a *humph* and a click, he opened the door, jumped in, and locked it behind him.
"Now all I can do is wait, and they'll find me soon enough, and then they'll force me to come back to the house. They'll force me to talk and - no. Why am I worrying? I am a soldier, and I *will* survive this with *all* of my dignity intact." Falling back on the bed, he closed his eyes. Slowly, he took his tanktop off and to accustom himself to cold air of the room. 'Hmph. The air conditioning on in the autumn. Idiots.' But Wufei had little time to ponder such things, as just as he had his tanktop fully off, he was jolted up by a knock at the door.
"Open up! It's the police! Come out with your weapons surrendered and your hands in the air!" 'Huh? Why are the police here?' He waited about a minute before he answered their call.
"Why are you here? I have done nothing wrong."
"The man at the front desk called us because of your death threat. Now, open your door before we have to open it ourselves." 'Not again. This is *not* my day for living on this god forsaken planet'
"Whatever you say, but I will *not* give up my katana! I don't care what you do to me, the katana stays by my side."
"Sir, all we ask is that you *hand* your weapon to us and come out with your hands up. We will return it to you as soon as you're let out of the jail cell. Now please..." 'I give up! I'd better just go before they come in here and bother me some more!' With a loud sigh, he walked up to the door, un-did the chain lock and padlock and slowly opened the door with his foot. His hands were out, surrendering his prized katana and his head was down to show that he was shamed. Looking up, he dropped the sword and forgot all about his shame. His cheeks flushed red with anger and all he could spit out was:
"WHAT?"
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Whoo! Thank you Chang Meiling, Mara Jade, and Tarnished Oversoul (again ^_^) for reviewing! You guy help, a LOT. In the long run, it's all written for those that read, because, otherwise, what other relevence is there in *writing* a fan fic! I'm sorry I'm stalling so much on the plot, but it will all come together in time! I finally thought of where I'm going with this, so, yay! In the mean time, I'm working on three different short stories, but I think the first to go up will be called "Jessi Is A Pothead". It's some pretty heavy stuff, about druggies, killings, and 'tainted love'. Yup, good themes, huh? Here's a preview...-
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Music filtered in my right ear and out the other, Metallica, I think ... I don't quite remember what kind it was or who was around me. The only thing that I *can* remember is that I was at a large party sitting on someone's couch with a plastic cup full of Pepsi and two ice cubes. Oh yeah, and Jessi Campton. I remember Jessi Campton standing infront of me in her fashionably torn bell bottoms (she tore them herself) and the tie-die shirt with the skull with the jester's hat on it. The shirt was glowing in the black light and her hair was dyed purple and was in cornrows ... only it looked a funky blue (the black light again). She was perfectly angelic standing there infront of me ... except for one problem. She was flirting with my best friend, Jake Stanford, who knew damn well I was standing, er, *sitting* right infront of them. He was also aware of the fact that I had a crush on her.
________________________________________________________________________________________
So there! In your reviews this time, tell me what you think of the beginning of that. Thanks!