In The End
Loki Weasley
Part Two: Exactly What Did I Do To Deserve This?
Summary: War struck Peace with a wrath. Severing families- more particularly the ties of five certain Gundam pilots... Now, thirteen years after they sent their children to 'a better place', they find the very place those kids need to be is where they started in the first place. Funny how things work out...
Loki: Lookie my shirt!! ::points at shirt reading 'I see squirrels'::
His parents wouldn't let him get a tattoo. Sometimes parents whomped. So he settled for dog collars with spikes. Those were fun. School systems whomped. They wouldn't let him wear his fave clothes to school because they were 'suggestively violent'. Just because a guy likes the color black for the oddest reasons doesn't make him violent. Just because he gave his brother a black eyes doesn't make him violent. Mark SO ran right into his fist. He wasn't aiming for his eye, the kid ran right into it. All he was trying to do was get the runt to stop bothering him and he swung around and the little twerp THREW himself into his fist... It wasn't HIS fault! Anyway, he liked to wear baggy black jeans and this tight black shirt with safety pins (SEE! Safety!) up and down the sleeves and maybe a black hoodie with a killer dragon on it. Killer as in way cool, not dangerous, thank you very much. And maybe some BDU boots that go 'clunk clunk clunk'. That was one of the coolest things in the world to do: walk around in half-laced boots going 'clunk clunk clunk'... His hair wasn't black, much to his annoyance, but this blue color. His parents wouldn't let him dye it black, dern them. They don't let him do anything... It was short, anyway, and stood in any which way. And trust me; his hair didn't naturally stand like that. That kind of do took work beyond work. One does not realize how long it takes one to make hair look so messy. His skin was pale, he was American, after all, and his eyes purple. Girls loved that.
Girls loved his eyes. And he loved the fact girl's loved that.
Oh, by the way, his name was Milo. Well, Miles, if you were to go by specifics. But he liked Milo. Miles sounded so... so... nerdy. Like he was a geek. Which he was, a computer geek, but still. Reputation was a big thing in his school and he had a lot to protect. It's not east living where he did. People were murder on reputations. You could go from popular to the World's Dorkiest Dork in two seconds flat. All it took was a sentence. Someone to say something. Milo learned early on when to keep his big mouth shut.
Milo had no dangerous hobbies, unless you count listening to groups like the Supremes and R.E.M., but did enjoy the frequent Star Fighter Game and other such blew-em-up-style games that still circuited the market. Mech Warrior was his favorite. He was the best. The best of the Best.
He was... What in the name of Flying Monkeys? Milo stared at his bed sheets, which were artfully tangled around him like a cocoon. He stared at the laptop just laying there. Since when did he have a laptop? Since when was his room clean? Milo stared bleary-eyed around his room, which was usually in the perfect state that looked like something nuclear went off... but now... now... it was clean. His carpet was blue- you learn something new everyday- and since when did he have a desk!? Milo strained his mind... Oh yeah... Since he was five.... Being he was fifteen and nearly eleven months, that was saying something. He could actually remember back some ten years! Woo-HOO!!
Milo turned his mind back to laptop, still irked about the state of his room, and flipped up the top. It immediately booted, like all this was planned. Not at all suspicious, assuming his parents had gone completely mental, he watched. The screen's background was a picture of a still shot of the Gundams. It was way cool. They were all in poses, edited together, from some of their better battles caught on media camera. A video popped up out of nowhere. An old man, a disturbing looking old man, made out of pixels was staring at him. Something nuclear went off on his head and the mushroom cloud was still there. And he wore those coats doctors wear. It was waving a finger at him, this little pixilated thing-a-ma-bob. "Ah ah ah..." it chanted. "That's dangerous. What if this blew up?" he asked.
"Yeah, what if it did?" Milo muttered, rubbing his eyes. He didn't expect an answer. "Then your parents would be quite depressed. After all, being the child of whom you happen to be, to find their son was stupid enough to not check a suspicious artifact before activating it... Well... Let's say 02 would be quite disappointed in his son..." the figure seemed to smile sadistically
Milo stared.
"I'm hallucinating... And what do you mean 02?" Milo snapped at the pixel person. Not truly realizing he was actually talking to some computer generated weirdo...
"You are not hallucinating, child, and all will be explained in due time. I wish to ask something of you. Do you know where the warehouses are by the pier? Abandoned, warehouses?"
"Yeah.... Why..." Milo asked suspiciously, slowly.
"I want you to do something for me... Play a little game, if you will." replied the ugly old figure.
"A... game?" Milo asked quite doubtfully. "Are you serious, or just stupid?"
"Quite serious, my friend. Now, what I want you to do is to go to the third warehouse from the North this afternoon... Around noon. Wait there. Inside. Someone will show and explain all of the rules to you, trust me." It smiled at him. "I assure you, you will not regret this if you do, Miles." It continued.
Milo needed his head checked.
"Oh-kay.... goodbye." Milo had had enough. He slammed the cover shut and got out of bed.
The day dragged by. And it was the weekend, so it shouldn't have been dragging like this. It should have just flown by with all the boarding he did with his friends. But someone that evil pixel doctor kept lingering into his head. Maybe he should check it out....
You know, for... manly reasons.
Wouldn't want whoever made that thing to think him a wuss for being a no-show.
Yeah. He'd go.
Milo finally got a chance to ditch his friends around one and made a beeline for the third warehouse to the north.
The warehouse was, for lack of a better word, abandoned. It smelled like bird and dust. That was about all. Except the lack of windows thereof due to... some.... people... that.... he knew- ahem...
But otherwise it was a perfectly desolate warehouse- ooh, big word...
The floors creaked, and he was afraid of falling.... uhm.... let's just call them 'unidentified falling objects'....
Milo coughed up dust as again the floor creaked and something came from below his feet. It sounded like... no, it was gone. He couldn't identify it.
The floor creaked and groaned again. Milo stood in the center of the warehouse, bored. He put his hands behind his head and sighed. "When is this guy gunnaaaa.... uhhhhh...?" Milo stared at his feet. The floors were groaning in a really not good way...
Why did he have this sudden... oh, I dunno.... sinking.... feeling?
The ground beneath Milo gave way and he found himself plummeting... wait- ten feet? Who on Earth would dig a tunnel under a warehouse!?... Oh. Milo had fallen on his face, and turned over on his back and sat up slowly. The fall was very painful, thank you very much.
About twenty guns were pointed at him right at this moment. Well, him and this girl in weird clothes. But she didn't seem to notice. She was scrambling to grab something behind him. Milo had a bit of a hard time taking his eyes off of those guns...
Gunfire! From behind!
Milo fell back and rolled onto his stomach. The girl was shooting a.a.a- something that obviously shot a lot of rounds- at the guys with guns. They had scattered back into another hall. The girl now stood up. "Get up!" she ordered Milo.
Didn't have to tell him twice.
Heart going like nuts, Miles stumbled to his feet and behind the girl with the gun. She pulled something from her long green coat and lobbed it at the hall. Then turned, grabbed his arm, and ran in the opposite direction.
Something went boom behind them...
"Damndamndamndamndamn!!" she hissed as she pulled him down the hall, right, down another hall, left, straight, and finally stopped, counting her steps carefully. "Ah ha!" she grinned, yanked him waaayyy too close than most girls would like a guy they first met, and pointed the gun at the floor. "Express elalator go doooooown..." she said in a child-like voice and shot a circle around them.
Once again, the ground made a sickening sound and gave out.
But this time Milo acknowledged this in time to scream as he went down... down... down...
Landing was hard. And metal. Milo lifted his head from the floor, which was now probably imprinted with the image of whatever the floor was, and stared around. "Holy Flying Monkeys!"
"Holy- wait- what?" the girl asked, staring at him. She had rolled to her feet.
A guard railing! They were on a catwalk! She had shot them through the floor and into a hanger and landed on a three-foot-wide catwalk! HOLY FLYING MONKEYS!! He could have just plummeted to his doom!! And the girl was standing up, calm as anything, and dusting her trench coat off! WHAT THE HELL!?
"What- but- how- when- since- wha- wait- but..." he stuttered, stumbling to his feet. She stared at him with blue eyes behind green sunglasses. She smirked.
She gave him a V-for-Victory sign. "You're in luck- thought it was really five steps that way!" she pointed some five feet off to the left of the walk and well over dead air. Milo could have fainted. "Wha...."
"Uh oh...." She was staring up, this nut job of a female.
Milo took it upon himself to assume what she was staring and just run like cheetah. With his luck the guns had finally caught up and were now preparing to A: shoot, or B: jump down and THEN shoot.
Clang!
B.
The girl was just behind him now, running. "Ha ha haaaa.... COME GET ME!!" Out of the corner of his eye, Milo saw the girl sticking her tongue out at the men with guns.
"ARE YOU CRAZY OR JUST SUICIDAL!?" he roared at her. She was taunting those men and now they were shooting at them! Milo ran faster. If he lived through this, he would never (NEVER!!!) disobey his parents again, never lie, and never do anything bad! Please, please, please, let him live through this... HEY THE PIXELMAN!! This was HIS fault!! HE told him to come here!
Milo ran faster. More clangs. Then this really weird sound... Like... Like metal stretching... Creeeeeak...
"Uh oh..." again said the girl.
The catwalk gave out on the side opposite where the two were heading. Milo heard soldiers yelling and then found himself running on thin air. He had barely grabbed hold of the railing when he went Tarzan-like down... down.... down.... The girl wasn't so lucky, he noticed her slip and start sliding down the angling metal floor as it fell down... down... down... on one side...SLAM!! Clinging for dear life, Milo found himself dangling some five feet from the landing he had been aiming for and staring down at the collection of gunmen and the crazy girl, who was swinging around some ten feet below him.
"I LOVE my job! WOO!" the girl cried, climbing up at Milo at record speed. "Climb, dude, before they figure out what to do." she ordered as she past by him.
After a moment of confusion, Miles jerked himself back into reality and started climbing. Just as he stood on the landing, guns started going off and a red light started flashing. An alarm was going off.
"What're you doin' here?" asked the girl, giving him a doubtful look. She didn't seem to notice the sirens or the lights or the guns, for that matter. She put her hands on her hips and stared at him.
"I'll let you know when I find out..." Milo muttered. "Can we just get out of here before I get shot to Swiss cheese, please?" he continued. "You seem to know what you're doing..."
"Infiltration." the girl smirked. "The blunt kind." She turned. "Follow me, kid."
"I'm not a kid." Milo shot back and chased after her.
The girl giggled. "Swiss cheese. heh heh heh.."
The route out was completely void of people. Why, Milo didn't know. And he was quite grateful for it, too. It meant he wasn't going to die. The girl led him out into the daylight, some five miles from the warehouse, and turned to him after shutting a trap door. She shouldered her gun, which she had been carrying ever since Milo first saw her, and nudged her sunglasses back up her nose.
"So why were you there?" she asked curiously.
"I... Well..." Boy, when you think about it, the reason he was there was REALLY stupid... "I found this... computer... and some cartoon-guy... he told me to go... to that warehouse... and wait. Someone would show and tell me why..."
Instead of laughing, the girl raised an eyebrow, twisting her mouth in an unreadable kind of look. "The cartoon... What'd he look like?"
"A doctor."
"Do you still have that computer?" she continued, still looking like she had an idea as to what was going on.
"Yeah. It's right here..." he gestured to his book bag and the girl took it without asking. She sat on the grass of the woods and flipped up the top. The screen lit up and the pixel-man waved at her. Milo leaned over her shoulder, watching.
She pulled a purple cell phone from inside her trench coat and pressed a speed-dial number.
"J......" she said in a warning voice. It was rather scary. Because her reflected face was in a glare Milo never wanted to have facing him. She was silent, face getting steadily more annoyed. "But I have to- Can I just send him along after that, then." Her face seemed to lighten a bit. "Good. You no good s.o.b.-" She growled. "Oh yeah- sure. All you and your little friend have done is screw my life over, kisama." she shut off the phone with that.
Milo watched as she shut the computer, stood up, and turned to face him. Looking rather annoyed, but subdued. "What's yer name?" she asked.
"Milo Clapton."
"Aubre Yuy."
Yuy? Did she say Yuy as in Relina and Heero Yuy... or Yuy as in a reeeeally big coincidence? Milo stared now. "Yuy?" he asked. How could she be a Yuy? There was no Yuy child, was there?
"Yeah, Yuy. You see, I have a wonderful doc-friend too," she pushed the laptop into his hands. "And everything was peachy until he led me to the Sanc mansion and to my family- See, years and years ago, there was a war- about the time you and I was just getting out of diapers, right?" He nodded. "And there were six children sent out into the world for their own safety: the children of the Gundam Pilots... I was one of them. And so are you."
"Me? The son of a Gundam pilot? Are you kidding?"
She smirked. "That's what I said. But it matches up. Does the name Tris mean anything to you?" she asked.
"No. Not really. No." Milo replied. The name did sound familiar. But it didn't mean much to him.
"Oh well, was worth a shot." she shrugged. "That's how I figured it out- that J wasn't lying. According to my father- uhhhhhhh, real father- I was really close to some kid named Tristan. Anyways, you are the son of Duo Maxwell, according to J. Wicked, huh?" she smirked again.
"No. What are you talking about? My parents are at my house right now. I'm not adopted." he shook his head.
Aubrie sighed and pressed a button on her cell phone again. "Hey, Dad!" she smirked. Silence. "It wasn't hard...But anyway, I need a shuttle or something.... Why? Because our good friend Dr. J and his little friends are being annoying.... Well, according to J, his name is Miles Maxwell...." She cocked an eyebrow. Giving an imaginary father figure a really weird look.
Miles processed this slowly. He wasn't adopted. He'd lived here all his life. As long as he could remember... Unless they were lying to him. He never was too much like his family, but that could be coincidence...
"No... Not really... Anyways! Dad, the kid needs a ride to Sanc- I've still got to explain to Jack why life sucks, alright! Send... send.... Send Cheng, or something. It's be the perfect welcome wagon- 'Welcome to the club- hands up, weakling, or I shoot!'... " She frowned. "You just have a dry sense of humor. C'mon, already, Heero!" It appeared to be he caved after that, because Aubrie grinned and shut off the phone. "Be here in an hour. Why don't you and I go ask your family a few inquiries..."
Miles, numb with complete disbelief, lead the girl blindly to his home.
Mom and Dad were in the living room watching the news. Aubrie stared at the report silently a moment. "Wow! Word gets out fast!" she said cheerfully. So cheerfully it was beyond measure. The report was about some big name in business getting shot and killed days before. There were no suspects.
Milo's parent's jumped and turned. "New friend, Milo?" asked Mr. Clapton.
Milo swallowed hard. If he was ever going to believe this, he would have to hear it from his parents. "Mom, Dad, was I adopted?"
The nervous look the two shared answered his question. "Well. yes, Milo, you were."
Milo swallowed again. Aubrie was shifting on her feet, checking her watch. "Miles' gotta go 'way." She said. "Back to his true parents."
Mom and Dad and Milo were all staring at her like she was mad.
"No kidding. You know the report you just watched? He's part of an organization trying to start another war. Miles' real parents were Gundam pilots- at least his father was. Miles' needed to help stop the war. Like me." She looked much more serious than she had ever looked to Milo. He almost felt grateful. But the confusion of the situation wasn't letting it though.
"You can't take Milo! I don't care WHO'S parents gave him up! I raised him!" Mrs. Clapton shrieked.
"They gave him up to save him!" Aubrie snapped. "The same reason my parents gave me up. Had we stayed, every assassin in the Unified Nation would be out for our heads. He's gotta go back. They need his help. And it's not up to you- It's up to him." And she turned to him, giving him an 'answer the question' look.
Miles stared, completely out of phase with what was going on. Wait. What WAS going on? All he knew was ever since he had found that stupid computer, his life had turned upside down. Slowly, with everyone watching, it all started to process itself. ".How dangerous is the situation?" he asked after a moment.
"You know the man on that report? He was the leader. The details you can get on the way to the base. But shortly put- the Preventers need pilots. And who better than the children of the Gundam pilots.. Look, if those doctors didn't think we could take our father's steps than they wouldn't have bothered with us. You'd still be in the illusion that these people are your true parents. And me. I'd be probably doing a show right now for my foster father." Aubrie rolled her eyes. "You make the decision. I'll be outside." And she walked out without a second glance.
The illusion that these people are your true parents.. "You lied to me. All this time." Milo turned to his parents, who had stood up.
"Believe us, Miles, had we thought that something like this would happen.. We didn't want you to go looking for your real parents and leaving us." his mother said quietly.
"If you had been honest, I wouldn't have." Milo muttered venomously. He stalked out of the house. Aubrie was leaning against the porch banister as if she expected him all along. "Let's go." He mumbled.
"Milo! Milo, wait!" his parents called. Milo ignored them.
"Folks." Aubrie bowed and pranced after Milo. "You're going to the base. I'm going on to New York to have a chat similar to that to my foster father and grab some things and then come back to start the Preventer training."
"Whatever." Milo muttered.
Soon later he was on the plane and on his way to Sanc. He was met by a tall American with a braid. "Milo!" the man said cheerfully. Way more cheerfully than Milo could feel. "What's up, buddy?"
"Don't talk like you know me, man." Miles muttered darkly.
The man never faltered. "But I do know you. I'm yer dad, kid."
Well, that just changed everything..
Loki: Okay, people, if I don't get any reviews- good or bad, I'm not continuing this story- how about that?
Summary: War struck Peace with a wrath. Severing families- more particularly the ties of five certain Gundam pilots... Now, thirteen years after they sent their children to 'a better place', they find the very place those kids need to be is where they started in the first place. Funny how things work out...
Loki: Lookie my shirt!! ::points at shirt reading 'I see squirrels'::
His parents wouldn't let him get a tattoo. Sometimes parents whomped. So he settled for dog collars with spikes. Those were fun. School systems whomped. They wouldn't let him wear his fave clothes to school because they were 'suggestively violent'. Just because a guy likes the color black for the oddest reasons doesn't make him violent. Just because he gave his brother a black eyes doesn't make him violent. Mark SO ran right into his fist. He wasn't aiming for his eye, the kid ran right into it. All he was trying to do was get the runt to stop bothering him and he swung around and the little twerp THREW himself into his fist... It wasn't HIS fault! Anyway, he liked to wear baggy black jeans and this tight black shirt with safety pins (SEE! Safety!) up and down the sleeves and maybe a black hoodie with a killer dragon on it. Killer as in way cool, not dangerous, thank you very much. And maybe some BDU boots that go 'clunk clunk clunk'. That was one of the coolest things in the world to do: walk around in half-laced boots going 'clunk clunk clunk'... His hair wasn't black, much to his annoyance, but this blue color. His parents wouldn't let him dye it black, dern them. They don't let him do anything... It was short, anyway, and stood in any which way. And trust me; his hair didn't naturally stand like that. That kind of do took work beyond work. One does not realize how long it takes one to make hair look so messy. His skin was pale, he was American, after all, and his eyes purple. Girls loved that.
Girls loved his eyes. And he loved the fact girl's loved that.
Oh, by the way, his name was Milo. Well, Miles, if you were to go by specifics. But he liked Milo. Miles sounded so... so... nerdy. Like he was a geek. Which he was, a computer geek, but still. Reputation was a big thing in his school and he had a lot to protect. It's not east living where he did. People were murder on reputations. You could go from popular to the World's Dorkiest Dork in two seconds flat. All it took was a sentence. Someone to say something. Milo learned early on when to keep his big mouth shut.
Milo had no dangerous hobbies, unless you count listening to groups like the Supremes and R.E.M., but did enjoy the frequent Star Fighter Game and other such blew-em-up-style games that still circuited the market. Mech Warrior was his favorite. He was the best. The best of the Best.
He was... What in the name of Flying Monkeys? Milo stared at his bed sheets, which were artfully tangled around him like a cocoon. He stared at the laptop just laying there. Since when did he have a laptop? Since when was his room clean? Milo stared bleary-eyed around his room, which was usually in the perfect state that looked like something nuclear went off... but now... now... it was clean. His carpet was blue- you learn something new everyday- and since when did he have a desk!? Milo strained his mind... Oh yeah... Since he was five.... Being he was fifteen and nearly eleven months, that was saying something. He could actually remember back some ten years! Woo-HOO!!
Milo turned his mind back to laptop, still irked about the state of his room, and flipped up the top. It immediately booted, like all this was planned. Not at all suspicious, assuming his parents had gone completely mental, he watched. The screen's background was a picture of a still shot of the Gundams. It was way cool. They were all in poses, edited together, from some of their better battles caught on media camera. A video popped up out of nowhere. An old man, a disturbing looking old man, made out of pixels was staring at him. Something nuclear went off on his head and the mushroom cloud was still there. And he wore those coats doctors wear. It was waving a finger at him, this little pixilated thing-a-ma-bob. "Ah ah ah..." it chanted. "That's dangerous. What if this blew up?" he asked.
"Yeah, what if it did?" Milo muttered, rubbing his eyes. He didn't expect an answer. "Then your parents would be quite depressed. After all, being the child of whom you happen to be, to find their son was stupid enough to not check a suspicious artifact before activating it... Well... Let's say 02 would be quite disappointed in his son..." the figure seemed to smile sadistically
Milo stared.
"I'm hallucinating... And what do you mean 02?" Milo snapped at the pixel person. Not truly realizing he was actually talking to some computer generated weirdo...
"You are not hallucinating, child, and all will be explained in due time. I wish to ask something of you. Do you know where the warehouses are by the pier? Abandoned, warehouses?"
"Yeah.... Why..." Milo asked suspiciously, slowly.
"I want you to do something for me... Play a little game, if you will." replied the ugly old figure.
"A... game?" Milo asked quite doubtfully. "Are you serious, or just stupid?"
"Quite serious, my friend. Now, what I want you to do is to go to the third warehouse from the North this afternoon... Around noon. Wait there. Inside. Someone will show and explain all of the rules to you, trust me." It smiled at him. "I assure you, you will not regret this if you do, Miles." It continued.
Milo needed his head checked.
"Oh-kay.... goodbye." Milo had had enough. He slammed the cover shut and got out of bed.
The day dragged by. And it was the weekend, so it shouldn't have been dragging like this. It should have just flown by with all the boarding he did with his friends. But someone that evil pixel doctor kept lingering into his head. Maybe he should check it out....
You know, for... manly reasons.
Wouldn't want whoever made that thing to think him a wuss for being a no-show.
Yeah. He'd go.
Milo finally got a chance to ditch his friends around one and made a beeline for the third warehouse to the north.
The warehouse was, for lack of a better word, abandoned. It smelled like bird and dust. That was about all. Except the lack of windows thereof due to... some.... people... that.... he knew- ahem...
But otherwise it was a perfectly desolate warehouse- ooh, big word...
The floors creaked, and he was afraid of falling.... uhm.... let's just call them 'unidentified falling objects'....
Milo coughed up dust as again the floor creaked and something came from below his feet. It sounded like... no, it was gone. He couldn't identify it.
The floor creaked and groaned again. Milo stood in the center of the warehouse, bored. He put his hands behind his head and sighed. "When is this guy gunnaaaa.... uhhhhh...?" Milo stared at his feet. The floors were groaning in a really not good way...
Why did he have this sudden... oh, I dunno.... sinking.... feeling?
The ground beneath Milo gave way and he found himself plummeting... wait- ten feet? Who on Earth would dig a tunnel under a warehouse!?... Oh. Milo had fallen on his face, and turned over on his back and sat up slowly. The fall was very painful, thank you very much.
About twenty guns were pointed at him right at this moment. Well, him and this girl in weird clothes. But she didn't seem to notice. She was scrambling to grab something behind him. Milo had a bit of a hard time taking his eyes off of those guns...
Gunfire! From behind!
Milo fell back and rolled onto his stomach. The girl was shooting a.a.a- something that obviously shot a lot of rounds- at the guys with guns. They had scattered back into another hall. The girl now stood up. "Get up!" she ordered Milo.
Didn't have to tell him twice.
Heart going like nuts, Miles stumbled to his feet and behind the girl with the gun. She pulled something from her long green coat and lobbed it at the hall. Then turned, grabbed his arm, and ran in the opposite direction.
Something went boom behind them...
"Damndamndamndamndamn!!" she hissed as she pulled him down the hall, right, down another hall, left, straight, and finally stopped, counting her steps carefully. "Ah ha!" she grinned, yanked him waaayyy too close than most girls would like a guy they first met, and pointed the gun at the floor. "Express elalator go doooooown..." she said in a child-like voice and shot a circle around them.
Once again, the ground made a sickening sound and gave out.
But this time Milo acknowledged this in time to scream as he went down... down... down...
Landing was hard. And metal. Milo lifted his head from the floor, which was now probably imprinted with the image of whatever the floor was, and stared around. "Holy Flying Monkeys!"
"Holy- wait- what?" the girl asked, staring at him. She had rolled to her feet.
A guard railing! They were on a catwalk! She had shot them through the floor and into a hanger and landed on a three-foot-wide catwalk! HOLY FLYING MONKEYS!! He could have just plummeted to his doom!! And the girl was standing up, calm as anything, and dusting her trench coat off! WHAT THE HELL!?
"What- but- how- when- since- wha- wait- but..." he stuttered, stumbling to his feet. She stared at him with blue eyes behind green sunglasses. She smirked.
She gave him a V-for-Victory sign. "You're in luck- thought it was really five steps that way!" she pointed some five feet off to the left of the walk and well over dead air. Milo could have fainted. "Wha...."
"Uh oh...." She was staring up, this nut job of a female.
Milo took it upon himself to assume what she was staring and just run like cheetah. With his luck the guns had finally caught up and were now preparing to A: shoot, or B: jump down and THEN shoot.
Clang!
B.
The girl was just behind him now, running. "Ha ha haaaa.... COME GET ME!!" Out of the corner of his eye, Milo saw the girl sticking her tongue out at the men with guns.
"ARE YOU CRAZY OR JUST SUICIDAL!?" he roared at her. She was taunting those men and now they were shooting at them! Milo ran faster. If he lived through this, he would never (NEVER!!!) disobey his parents again, never lie, and never do anything bad! Please, please, please, let him live through this... HEY THE PIXELMAN!! This was HIS fault!! HE told him to come here!
Milo ran faster. More clangs. Then this really weird sound... Like... Like metal stretching... Creeeeeak...
"Uh oh..." again said the girl.
The catwalk gave out on the side opposite where the two were heading. Milo heard soldiers yelling and then found himself running on thin air. He had barely grabbed hold of the railing when he went Tarzan-like down... down.... down.... The girl wasn't so lucky, he noticed her slip and start sliding down the angling metal floor as it fell down... down... down... on one side...SLAM!! Clinging for dear life, Milo found himself dangling some five feet from the landing he had been aiming for and staring down at the collection of gunmen and the crazy girl, who was swinging around some ten feet below him.
"I LOVE my job! WOO!" the girl cried, climbing up at Milo at record speed. "Climb, dude, before they figure out what to do." she ordered as she past by him.
After a moment of confusion, Miles jerked himself back into reality and started climbing. Just as he stood on the landing, guns started going off and a red light started flashing. An alarm was going off.
"What're you doin' here?" asked the girl, giving him a doubtful look. She didn't seem to notice the sirens or the lights or the guns, for that matter. She put her hands on her hips and stared at him.
"I'll let you know when I find out..." Milo muttered. "Can we just get out of here before I get shot to Swiss cheese, please?" he continued. "You seem to know what you're doing..."
"Infiltration." the girl smirked. "The blunt kind." She turned. "Follow me, kid."
"I'm not a kid." Milo shot back and chased after her.
The girl giggled. "Swiss cheese. heh heh heh.."
The route out was completely void of people. Why, Milo didn't know. And he was quite grateful for it, too. It meant he wasn't going to die. The girl led him out into the daylight, some five miles from the warehouse, and turned to him after shutting a trap door. She shouldered her gun, which she had been carrying ever since Milo first saw her, and nudged her sunglasses back up her nose.
"So why were you there?" she asked curiously.
"I... Well..." Boy, when you think about it, the reason he was there was REALLY stupid... "I found this... computer... and some cartoon-guy... he told me to go... to that warehouse... and wait. Someone would show and tell me why..."
Instead of laughing, the girl raised an eyebrow, twisting her mouth in an unreadable kind of look. "The cartoon... What'd he look like?"
"A doctor."
"Do you still have that computer?" she continued, still looking like she had an idea as to what was going on.
"Yeah. It's right here..." he gestured to his book bag and the girl took it without asking. She sat on the grass of the woods and flipped up the top. The screen lit up and the pixel-man waved at her. Milo leaned over her shoulder, watching.
She pulled a purple cell phone from inside her trench coat and pressed a speed-dial number.
"J......" she said in a warning voice. It was rather scary. Because her reflected face was in a glare Milo never wanted to have facing him. She was silent, face getting steadily more annoyed. "But I have to- Can I just send him along after that, then." Her face seemed to lighten a bit. "Good. You no good s.o.b.-" She growled. "Oh yeah- sure. All you and your little friend have done is screw my life over, kisama." she shut off the phone with that.
Milo watched as she shut the computer, stood up, and turned to face him. Looking rather annoyed, but subdued. "What's yer name?" she asked.
"Milo Clapton."
"Aubre Yuy."
Yuy? Did she say Yuy as in Relina and Heero Yuy... or Yuy as in a reeeeally big coincidence? Milo stared now. "Yuy?" he asked. How could she be a Yuy? There was no Yuy child, was there?
"Yeah, Yuy. You see, I have a wonderful doc-friend too," she pushed the laptop into his hands. "And everything was peachy until he led me to the Sanc mansion and to my family- See, years and years ago, there was a war- about the time you and I was just getting out of diapers, right?" He nodded. "And there were six children sent out into the world for their own safety: the children of the Gundam Pilots... I was one of them. And so are you."
"Me? The son of a Gundam pilot? Are you kidding?"
She smirked. "That's what I said. But it matches up. Does the name Tris mean anything to you?" she asked.
"No. Not really. No." Milo replied. The name did sound familiar. But it didn't mean much to him.
"Oh well, was worth a shot." she shrugged. "That's how I figured it out- that J wasn't lying. According to my father- uhhhhhhh, real father- I was really close to some kid named Tristan. Anyways, you are the son of Duo Maxwell, according to J. Wicked, huh?" she smirked again.
"No. What are you talking about? My parents are at my house right now. I'm not adopted." he shook his head.
Aubrie sighed and pressed a button on her cell phone again. "Hey, Dad!" she smirked. Silence. "It wasn't hard...But anyway, I need a shuttle or something.... Why? Because our good friend Dr. J and his little friends are being annoying.... Well, according to J, his name is Miles Maxwell...." She cocked an eyebrow. Giving an imaginary father figure a really weird look.
Miles processed this slowly. He wasn't adopted. He'd lived here all his life. As long as he could remember... Unless they were lying to him. He never was too much like his family, but that could be coincidence...
"No... Not really... Anyways! Dad, the kid needs a ride to Sanc- I've still got to explain to Jack why life sucks, alright! Send... send.... Send Cheng, or something. It's be the perfect welcome wagon- 'Welcome to the club- hands up, weakling, or I shoot!'... " She frowned. "You just have a dry sense of humor. C'mon, already, Heero!" It appeared to be he caved after that, because Aubrie grinned and shut off the phone. "Be here in an hour. Why don't you and I go ask your family a few inquiries..."
Miles, numb with complete disbelief, lead the girl blindly to his home.
Mom and Dad were in the living room watching the news. Aubrie stared at the report silently a moment. "Wow! Word gets out fast!" she said cheerfully. So cheerfully it was beyond measure. The report was about some big name in business getting shot and killed days before. There were no suspects.
Milo's parent's jumped and turned. "New friend, Milo?" asked Mr. Clapton.
Milo swallowed hard. If he was ever going to believe this, he would have to hear it from his parents. "Mom, Dad, was I adopted?"
The nervous look the two shared answered his question. "Well. yes, Milo, you were."
Milo swallowed again. Aubrie was shifting on her feet, checking her watch. "Miles' gotta go 'way." She said. "Back to his true parents."
Mom and Dad and Milo were all staring at her like she was mad.
"No kidding. You know the report you just watched? He's part of an organization trying to start another war. Miles' real parents were Gundam pilots- at least his father was. Miles' needed to help stop the war. Like me." She looked much more serious than she had ever looked to Milo. He almost felt grateful. But the confusion of the situation wasn't letting it though.
"You can't take Milo! I don't care WHO'S parents gave him up! I raised him!" Mrs. Clapton shrieked.
"They gave him up to save him!" Aubrie snapped. "The same reason my parents gave me up. Had we stayed, every assassin in the Unified Nation would be out for our heads. He's gotta go back. They need his help. And it's not up to you- It's up to him." And she turned to him, giving him an 'answer the question' look.
Miles stared, completely out of phase with what was going on. Wait. What WAS going on? All he knew was ever since he had found that stupid computer, his life had turned upside down. Slowly, with everyone watching, it all started to process itself. ".How dangerous is the situation?" he asked after a moment.
"You know the man on that report? He was the leader. The details you can get on the way to the base. But shortly put- the Preventers need pilots. And who better than the children of the Gundam pilots.. Look, if those doctors didn't think we could take our father's steps than they wouldn't have bothered with us. You'd still be in the illusion that these people are your true parents. And me. I'd be probably doing a show right now for my foster father." Aubrie rolled her eyes. "You make the decision. I'll be outside." And she walked out without a second glance.
The illusion that these people are your true parents.. "You lied to me. All this time." Milo turned to his parents, who had stood up.
"Believe us, Miles, had we thought that something like this would happen.. We didn't want you to go looking for your real parents and leaving us." his mother said quietly.
"If you had been honest, I wouldn't have." Milo muttered venomously. He stalked out of the house. Aubrie was leaning against the porch banister as if she expected him all along. "Let's go." He mumbled.
"Milo! Milo, wait!" his parents called. Milo ignored them.
"Folks." Aubrie bowed and pranced after Milo. "You're going to the base. I'm going on to New York to have a chat similar to that to my foster father and grab some things and then come back to start the Preventer training."
"Whatever." Milo muttered.
Soon later he was on the plane and on his way to Sanc. He was met by a tall American with a braid. "Milo!" the man said cheerfully. Way more cheerfully than Milo could feel. "What's up, buddy?"
"Don't talk like you know me, man." Miles muttered darkly.
The man never faltered. "But I do know you. I'm yer dad, kid."
Well, that just changed everything..
Loki: Okay, people, if I don't get any reviews- good or bad, I'm not continuing this story- how about that?