This is dedicated to all the fan fiction and hentai that I have read over my year as a Gundam Wing fan in which I have laughed at, bantered, etc-d the work. For all those authors, now you have something of mine to ridicule.
Enjoy, for now the universe is at peace.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I know who does. But, if I did, I'd BUY the titles so I DIDN'T HAVE TO WRITE THIS!!!
All originals characters, settings, and situations are copyrighted and owned by me, so please don't steal them!!! Thank you ^-^
Author: A. Mused
Title: This 1920 NeverLand
Warnings: A little bit of beginning confusion; original characters; dream sequences; politics - both internal and external; bisexuality (yet no yaoi…is this blasphemy? I think not); pasts of certain characters;
READ THIS PLEASE: If you are still uncomfortable or uneasy in any way with the September 11th attacks, I heavily encourage you to not read this fic as it contains themes of violence and militarism, acts of terrorism, and threats of genocide. So please don't get offended. What happened was in no way inspiration to me.
Pairings: none presently (wow. can you believe it? we could do the implied ones…lets!)
HY+RD, DM+HS, TB+OC, QRW+OC, CW+OC, CB+OC
Point of View: Duo Maxwell
002: Two
"Whadya want, kid?"
I sat down at the barstool as Jonah repeated that same line.
"Anything new?"
"You've been asking that question every time you've come in here and the answer hasn't changed since the first time you dropped in.
I smiled as broadly as I could for Jonah's annoyance.
"I know. Water, just for now."
"For putting up with you, you better order more than just water, kid."
I smiled again and watched Jonah go over to the refrigerator. This may be a back alley bar, but that doesn't mean it can't have any class. Jonah returned with my glass of water and then moved on to another guy sitting on the other side of the bar.
It was around 10 PM, and I'd had a long day, so I decided to drop in. What I found wasn't that unusual. Even in peace, there's always crime.
Two well know smugglers, let's just call them Walker and Parker, were playing a round of pool in the corner under the dim yellow light.
Now, I didn't want to cause any trouble, but the two were being so obvious. Probably drunk. Yelling and arguing about shipments they'd done in the past that had made headlines, if they weren't lying. I heard about the two from keeping up with the CLE bulletins. I took a sip of my water. It was kind of warm.
"Hey Jonah!"
"What?" he growled as he trotted back over to me. Jonah was getting pretty, shall we say, stocky as he aged. He had a brown stained white T-shirt pressed against by his gut, his dark brown beard was in need of trimming, and his head was a lot less hairy then I remember it being. Must be hard for Jonah to get any. I decided I'd tip him tonight.
"How much for those two in the corner?" I asked as I thumbed in the smuggler's direction. Jonah gave a long, old man sigh.
"Duo, not tonight. It's been a long day and -"
"Tell you what, Jonah," I started putting the glass of water back on the bar, "I'll donate the bounty to the bar. I don't want to see you on the street."
"Well, if you'd get something besides water, I'd be a lot richer." He cracked a cynical sort of smile and stared hard at me.
"Think of it as my unpaid tab. Just turn the other cheek," I stood up, "And this establishment will receive a charitable donation."
I turned around as I heard Jonah mutter his 'fine.'
Now the CLE, or Colonial Law Enforcement Division, had been having trouble putting all the bad guys behind bars, partially because the war was over and there were a lot of soldiers with no livelihood and little education. Crime had skyrocketed since the end of the wars and there was a big jump after Mariemaia's army had been disbanded. Thus, the reason for bounty hunters, though the CLE calls them vigilantes. You don't really need a license or anything like that, but you do usually need a weapons license because most criminals don't want to play nice and come along quietly. That license I had ever since I got into doing scrap yard work. Some people just don't take negotiations well.
Anyway, being a part-time bounty hunter kept things interesting. Satisfied that "fight/get-the-bad-guy" urge.
"Excuse me, gentleman." I felt like being polite tonight.
"What do you want?" Parker growled at me. He was a few inches taller than me, unkempt brown facial hair, wrinkled suit, breath smelled of whiskey. Cheap whiskey. Yeah, these guys had been out of the job for a while and their bounty was just pocket change compared to some of the other heads-for-the-hunting, but the money was going to a good cause.
"I haven't seen you two around here. New to the neighborhood?" Small talk was nice.
"Get lost!" Walker growled at me. They must be down on their luck, too. I'm making a lot of assumptions tonight. Assumptions are fun.
I felt my cheeks stretch as I smiled.
"What's wrong with being friendly?"
Walker looked at Parker, Parker smiled, then Walker smiled, and then both of them looked at me.
"Nothing," Walker started, "Nothing at all."
They put down their pool sticks and started walking up to me very slowly. They weren't so drunk that they staggered. That happy little factor was more in their favor than mine, but I'm not that picky.
I smiled even broader and tilted my head down. I cracked the knuckles on both my hands one by one on the palm of my opposite hand. Shifting the weight on my feet, I got ready to go.
Parker wanted to go first. He took a swing at my jaw with his left hand, missing as I shifted my weight on my back foot. I pushed forward and punched his stomach, momentarily forgetting about Walker. Walker pushed Parker away after I hit him then kicked me in my ribs, sending me flying back. I landed on a table a few feet away, my weight crushing the wooden legs under me. When I opened my eyes I was staring at a big, hairy biker guy in leather vest with a gray beard, sunglasses, and many, many tattoos. He turned his head and looked to the north of me. Gazing there myself, I noticed a spilled glass of beer I must have knocked over. I looked back at the guy and smiled.
Walker had been standing with a doubled-over Parker laughing. The biker grabbed me by my black shirt and hoisted me up. He did NOT look happy.
"Oops." I said with some faked meekness.
He put me down and walked over to Walker (heh) and punched him in the jaw while he was still laughing.
Then realizing the entire bar of about thirty guys was watching, everyone just started throwing punches after the biker hit Walker.
Ducking the biker's buddy low blow, I slipped back over to Jonah.
Jonah looked, for lack of a better word, pissed.
He just shook his head, though. Translated: You started it, you finish it. And pay for the damages.
It'd happened to another friend of his a few weeks ago at the bar.
Though I'm not saying Jonah considers me a friend. I don't think I'll get off so easy.
I smiled as widely and as annoyingly as I could at Jonah. He went to storage to get the peace-keeping, double barrel shotgun. And call the police. No risk in trying to get around to the phone in storage.
We do love you Jonah.
I slunk around the room for a while, dodging hits, sometimes not.
Some guy across the room had got a hold of the steel-tipped darts. He had a crazed look in his eye.
I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Jonah being gone, I was left with keeping the bar fight "safe."
Slinking across the room (as I am so skinny) I eventually got to the crazy. He had been throwing them at someone - who I hoped had only escaped with some light scars.
I put my hands on the guy's ears, which forced him to look at me. He was blonde. Not nice blonde, straw-hick blonde. I pulled his head toward me and kneed him just under his ribs (well-remembered, Heero!). He gasped, then slumped to the floor (thank you gravity!). I picked up the darts and put them behind the bar.
Traveling back over to Walker, I noticed some other blonde guy talking to him. REALLY skinny blonde guy. If at all possible, he was thinner than I was. He had nice blonde hair, chestnut roots, kind of spiky, fell down close to his eyes/temples. Back to him being skinny. He was might-slip-through-the-cracks-in-the-floor-one-day, you-might-be-able-to-see-his-heart-beating-through-his-chest, close-to-no-chance-of-any-muscular-strength, miracle-he's-standing kind of skinny. Thin gray shirt, black pants, black trench coat, aerodynamic sunglasses. Someone who'd worry about bullies.
"So, anyway," I heard him saying as I drew near, "have you seen him?"
"No. Now why don't you hit the road, faggot?" Walker spit at him then turned and high-fived an amused Parker.
"Ok. Thanks for your help." he turned away, then turned back at them.
"Oh, by the way. You two wouldn't happen to be that smuggling pair, would you?"
"When we say leave, faggot, we mean, leave." Walker smiled in a way that made me all but comfortable.
"Hey!" I yelled over.
The skinny guy turned to me. Walker pulled back his right arm, hand tightened into a fist.
"WATCH-" I started, but the skinny guy's head was already turned and he had grabbed Walker's arm. Walker looked surprised. The skinny guy picked him up over his back, then threw him into the mirror over the bar and into all the bottles and glasses with a huge crash. No one seemed to notice all the broken glass. I looked at the skinny guy, completely shocked. He seemed to be frowning, then put his hands on his hips.
"That's seven years of bad luck, you know." He yelled over to Walker. Now as far as comparison goes, Walker was twice as muscular as this kid.
If you asked me, I'd say we have a new Heero on our hands.
"You bastard!" Parker rushed at him.
The skinny pulled a shiny 9mm automatic out of a shoulder holster I must have missed and pointed it straight between Parker's eyes, ceasing all movement from Parker as he stared down the barrel.
"I forgot about you." skinny-guy said with a smile. He pulled the top part of the gun back (ok, so I don't exactly remember all parts of the gun, so sue me) and put the gun right between Parker's eyebrows.
"Now that we're all friends, let's try this again. I'm looking for a guy a little under your height, brown hair in a long braid, no tag, no collar, responds to the name Duo Maxwell. Stop me when I've hit something."
Before I could speak up, Parker replied.
"I don't have to tell you anything." He spat, standing up straight. Wrong answer.
Skinny guy pulled the gun away and rested the shaft on the side of his head, still smiling.
"That a fact?" He said.
Skinny-guy stepped back, aimed the gun at Parker, and began to pull the trigger, then quickly changed aim to the ceiling above Parker's head. Loud gunshot. Some ceiling fragments fell on Parker's head. All other activity in the bar stopped and focused on Parker and skinny-guy.
Where was Jonah and the CLE?
Skinny-guy cocked the gun again and put it on Parker again.
"Try your luck a second time? But you have my guarantee," he said with a cynical smile, "I don't have to miss."
"If you're looking for Duo Maxwell, you're looking for me." I spoke up.
Skinny guy turned to look at me, but Parker had kicked him in the back the very first chance he got. With that, the fights resumed.
I ran in and elbowed Parker in his cheek, then high-kicked him in his neck, sending him sprawling.
I looked down at skinny-guy. He was pouting as he sat on the ground, holding his trench coat that had a brown foot print on the back of it.
"I just had this dry-cleaned, too." he said as he sighed. I saw the holster which was also occupied by the gun. Nice gun.
I'm sure I sweat-dropped.
I didn't have much more time to think though, as Parker was back on his feet and pissed. He jumped for me and had his arms around my neck before I could think.
That little bastard.
I arched my back toward Parker, then threw him in front of me, where he landed on his back. But then came Walker.
Walker had some pieces of glass in him - a lot of little cuts, and some not-so-little cuts. He was very bloody.
He went for me. I turned so that the pool table was behind me. Walker turned too. With my new perspective, I saw skinny-guy with a few others, including Parker, out for him. I wasn't sure if he'd need my help.
Back to Walker. He threw a punch my way, which I successfully dodged.
I then jumped up on the pool table, where I grabbed the pool stick and held it in defense.
Ok, I don't really know how to use one of these things, but I'm sure I looked like I did.
Walker came around to the other side of the table and I followed his movement. He tried to swipe at my legs, but I jumped back and effectively hit my head on the light above the table. I rubbed the back of my head while Walker grabbed my right leg, then pulled me onto my back.
Remembering the pool stick in my hand, I took a two hand grip on it and jabbed it as hard as I could into Walker's forehead.
Walker stumbled back as I scrambled off the table onto the opposite side. Regaining his balance, Walker glared at me from the other side of the table. He tried to run around to catch me on my left, but I ran to the right. The he tried to run to my right, but I ran to my left. This running continued for a few minutes until Walker jumped up on the table. I dropped the pool stick and slid under the table, finding myself standing right next to skinny-guy after I got up.
Skinny-guy looked like he was having fun, to say the least. A drunk old biker was throwing punches, he was taking his fists and spinning them around to where he fell into a table and chairs when I got there.
"Hi!" he said to me, a little out of breath as he dodged a punch.
I didn't get to say anything back, as Walker was rushing at me with a wooden chair above his head, screaming like anything.
"Excuse me!" I heard skinny-guy say as he grabbed a guy's fist, then high-kicked his stomach sending him sprawling into another guy, who was fighting someone else.
Skinny-guy then grabbed my neck and pushed my head forward so I was leaning over. Walker stopped in front of me as skinny-guy pulled the chair out of Walker's hands and throwing it into the bar with a crash. He then released me and high-kicked Walker onto his back.
I stood up and looked at Walker. He wasn't getting up anytime soon.
"So you're Duo Maxwell, huh?" skinny-guy asked, still smiling and out of breathe.
"Yeah." I said as I watched skinny guy elbow Parker under his ribs then punch his nose with the same arm. Skinny-guy's smile widened.
"Great! I thought I was never gonna find you! You move around WAY too much, you know that?"
"Yeah," I shouted, "but who are you?"
"Oh, RIGHT!" skinny-guy responded as he rolled his eyes. "I'm Paris!"
I'm sure I looked a little skeptical.
Another shot went off close to the door. Movement ceased.
"Everybody down! This is the police!"
Well, true to their word, some officers were standing at the door, and fighting in a public place was against the law.
They started coming in, and there were a lot of them. There was a lot of groans from the other guys as the officers pulled out handcuffs. Strangely, Paris looked confident.
"Excuse me!" Paris called over to an officer.
He didn't look happy as he approached us, but Paris looked confused.
"We," Paris started as he gestured between us, " just came in here after this was started, and were pushed away from the door. I myself am a private investigator, and this is my assistant, Duo Maxwell." I nodded to the officer. "We were tipped off these two gentlemen were in here and came to collect when we got 'involved.' Since this is in your hands now, I'd like it very much if we could leave the scene."
Paris looked hopeful.
The officer himself looked like he liked the fact that he'd bring in Walker and Parker, but wasn't so sure about us.
"Lemme see your license." the officer growled.
Paris smiled and pulled out a wallet. He got out a card and handed it to the officer. The officer looked at it, then handed it back to Paris.
"Ok. You can go."
Paris replaced the card and wallet, then smiled.
We followed the officer outside where Paris thanked him again. I saw Jonah over
by a streetlight, looking angry. I walked over to him.
"I can pay for all of this." I told him quickly. He looked at me.
"How bad is it?" he asked.
"Just remember, I will pay for all the damage."
Jonah looked a lot older as he sighed.
"How much do you think it'll be?" Paris asked me.
Jonah looked at Paris and seemed surprised - probably at just how skinny Paris is.
"Who's this?" Jonah asked.
"I'm Paris. I got your friend here outside." he thumbed at me. "So how much do you think, Mister Maxwell?"
Before I could reply, Paris pulled out a checkbook and slid behind me, placing the checkbook on my back.
Paris finished writing the check, then ripped it out of the book and handed it to
Jonah.
I swear Jonah's eyes popped out of his head.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" he screamed at Paris, who then looked confused.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he replied.
Jonah waved the check.
"You're just GIVING me a 1,000,000?"
"Yeah. Why? Do you have a problem with generosity?"
Jonah seemed as serious as I had ever seen him.
"This is for real?"
"As real as taxes and death." Paris replied with a smile.
Jonah looked straight at me.
"You have some very generous friends, you know that?"
Then Jonah walked away. I turned to Paris.
"Your place then?" he asked.
"And for what reason should I take you to my home?" I asked him pretty
sarcastically.
He hit my shoulder in response.
"You owe me."
^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^
"So why were you looking for me?" I asked Paris when we got back to my little apartment.
He turned around to face me.
"I take it you don't clean much." he said.
I closed my eyes and tilted my chin upward.
"You shouldn't be making personal remarks." I told him. I opened one eye, then both. He was looking at a picture in the kitchen.
"Who's this?" he asked.
"Huh?"
I walked over and looked over his shoulder. It was a picture of Hildi and I taken 2
years ago.
"Oh, that's just my old roommate." I stated and stood back up.
"Really?" he said as he straightened up and smiled, "She's cute."
"Yeah, well…"
"So what happened?" he asked as he sat down in one of the table chairs.
"I don't know." I told him from behind the counter. He leaned on his elbows on the table.
"She just packed up and left one day while I was working." I said with a shrug.
"You think that's the whole story?" he asked.
"She left a note."
"What'd say?"
"Not to come looking for her."
"Let me guess, you were friends with benefits?"
I threw my arms up in the air.
"There you go with the personal remarks again!"
He leaned back in the chair with his arms folded across his chest.
"Well?"
"Sort of. It was a one time thing." I admitted quickly.
"I bet it was more than one time."
I turned away from him and crossed my arms, even though I knew it wasn't a good idea.
"Believe what you want." I stated rather coldly.
"I will."
I heard his chair scrape on the floor.
"So she's just been gone for a few years?"
"Two."
"Ah."
"So what do you do that gets you so much money?" I asked as I turned around.
"I'm a doctor."
I think I nearly choked.
"You're a doctor? A licensed doctor?"
"Yep. Obstetrician."
"Then what about your PI license?"
"That's legit. I do investigation as a hobby. More of a person-finding gig, though."
"So what do you want with me?"
"I came to find you, of course."
"Why me?"
"I'm working for a private client. He needs to find someone you were once close
to."
"And who would that be?" I asked as I re-crossed my arms.
"A former comrade. A Gundam Pilot by the name of Heero Yuy?"
I dropped my arms and jaw in shock.
Who would be looking for Heero?
"Who's your client?" I demanded.
"So you do remember Heero."
"Who's the client?"
"No one you know, I can guarantee that. Very reserved person. Somewhat
antisocial. You know the type."
All too well.
"Why does he want to find Heero?" I asked. Paris shook his head.
"No idea. And I never said my client was male."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Is it that girl? Relena Darlain?"
He shook his head again.
"I told you, you don't know them."
I sighed.
"So why come looking for me? I don't know where Heero is. I doubt anyone does."
"Nobody does. But that's not the point."
"Then what's the point?"
"The point is you know what Heero Yuy looks like."
"So? Lots of people know what Heero Yuy looks like."
"But," Paris smiled, "you worked with him the most, and you have the clearest schedule."
I blinked at Paris. How could he know all that?
"So I know what he looks like. That's the only reason you need me?"
"I need you to profile him."
"What do you mean?"
"I have a good friend on earth who can find anyone based on their description,
habits, tendencies, etc, etc."
"And you want me to come with you to earth?"
"That's the small of it."
"What's the big of it?"
"You could help me find him, or you could stay here and not come at all. It's your choice."
"And how are you getting to earth? Your private jet?"
"Unless you're looking to fly your Gundam, I thought we'd take commercial."
"When's the flight?"
"Tomorrow morning, plane leaves at 6."
My head was spinning with the ideas. A few years ago, I would have jumped at the chance to go find Heero, but now I wasn't so sure. I mean, I had my job, and the apartment, and I couldn't really just leave them both unattended.
"What about my house? My job?"
"Your self-employed, and I have another friend who can take care of that."
"So just pack up and leave?"
"Sure."
I thought another moment.
"Look," he started, "I may look it, but I don't have all night to sit around and bat this back and forth, so come to the L2 spaceport around 5:30 am. If you're not there, I leave without you and find someone else."
I looked at him, he looked serious.
"Ok." I said.
Paris nodded, then smiled brightly.
"Well, then, goodnight Mister Maxwell!"
He walked quickly over to the door, opened the door, then waved.
"Sleep tight! Don't let the bed bugs bite! Really! Those little bastard's 'll kill ya!"
Then he shut the door and that was it.
It was around 11 pm, and I needed sleep.
I dragged myself to my bedroom, kicked off my shoes, lied down on the mattress, covered myself up with my blanket, and then closed my eyes.
The phone rang.
"Goddamnit!" I swore.
I reached around for the phone until I picked up the cordless receiver. Pressing a button, I rolled on my back and brought the phone to my ear.
"What?"
"Quatre's been assassinated!"
I sat straight up, trying to drink in the statement.
"W-what?"
"Quatre's been assassinated!" the voice on the other end gasped, quite out of breath.
"Who is this?" I said.
The other end hung up after I said that.
Hanging up the phone myself, I turned it back on and tried to find out who called me.
Someone called me from a payphone.
But who? The voice was so familiar…female…
Hildi?!
No, couldn't be…but still, I wondered.
After turning on the TV my suspicions were confirmed by the news report. Though he wasn't dead, someone still had tried to kill him. They said he'd been taken to the hospital in critical condition, and there was nothing left to do but wait.
Turning off the television, I slammed my head down on my pillow and dropped the phone by the bedside. I pulled the covers over my head.
Let me sleep. Dear God, let me sleep.
Author's note: I don't really like writing notes, but hey, I got this chapter done! Hurrah! Just a little FYI, the chapters go in order of the characters by their number (1 - Heero, 2 - Duo, 3 - Trowa, 4 - Quatre, 5 - Wufei, 6 - Heero, etc) and some other characters have chapters, but that's later. Much later. This will be a long fic, but it's good, or so I'm told. Well, anyway, thanks SO MUCH for actually reading this and I hope you're enjoying it, SO - why don't you send a review my way? ^-^
Enjoy, for now the universe is at peace.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I know who does. But, if I did, I'd BUY the titles so I DIDN'T HAVE TO WRITE THIS!!!
All originals characters, settings, and situations are copyrighted and owned by me, so please don't steal them!!! Thank you ^-^
Author: A. Mused
Title: This 1920 NeverLand
Warnings: A little bit of beginning confusion; original characters; dream sequences; politics - both internal and external; bisexuality (yet no yaoi…is this blasphemy? I think not); pasts of certain characters;
READ THIS PLEASE: If you are still uncomfortable or uneasy in any way with the September 11th attacks, I heavily encourage you to not read this fic as it contains themes of violence and militarism, acts of terrorism, and threats of genocide. So please don't get offended. What happened was in no way inspiration to me.
Pairings: none presently (wow. can you believe it? we could do the implied ones…lets!)
HY+RD, DM+HS, TB+OC, QRW+OC, CW+OC, CB+OC
Point of View: Duo Maxwell
002: Two
"Whadya want, kid?"
I sat down at the barstool as Jonah repeated that same line.
"Anything new?"
"You've been asking that question every time you've come in here and the answer hasn't changed since the first time you dropped in.
I smiled as broadly as I could for Jonah's annoyance.
"I know. Water, just for now."
"For putting up with you, you better order more than just water, kid."
I smiled again and watched Jonah go over to the refrigerator. This may be a back alley bar, but that doesn't mean it can't have any class. Jonah returned with my glass of water and then moved on to another guy sitting on the other side of the bar.
It was around 10 PM, and I'd had a long day, so I decided to drop in. What I found wasn't that unusual. Even in peace, there's always crime.
Two well know smugglers, let's just call them Walker and Parker, were playing a round of pool in the corner under the dim yellow light.
Now, I didn't want to cause any trouble, but the two were being so obvious. Probably drunk. Yelling and arguing about shipments they'd done in the past that had made headlines, if they weren't lying. I heard about the two from keeping up with the CLE bulletins. I took a sip of my water. It was kind of warm.
"Hey Jonah!"
"What?" he growled as he trotted back over to me. Jonah was getting pretty, shall we say, stocky as he aged. He had a brown stained white T-shirt pressed against by his gut, his dark brown beard was in need of trimming, and his head was a lot less hairy then I remember it being. Must be hard for Jonah to get any. I decided I'd tip him tonight.
"How much for those two in the corner?" I asked as I thumbed in the smuggler's direction. Jonah gave a long, old man sigh.
"Duo, not tonight. It's been a long day and -"
"Tell you what, Jonah," I started putting the glass of water back on the bar, "I'll donate the bounty to the bar. I don't want to see you on the street."
"Well, if you'd get something besides water, I'd be a lot richer." He cracked a cynical sort of smile and stared hard at me.
"Think of it as my unpaid tab. Just turn the other cheek," I stood up, "And this establishment will receive a charitable donation."
I turned around as I heard Jonah mutter his 'fine.'
Now the CLE, or Colonial Law Enforcement Division, had been having trouble putting all the bad guys behind bars, partially because the war was over and there were a lot of soldiers with no livelihood and little education. Crime had skyrocketed since the end of the wars and there was a big jump after Mariemaia's army had been disbanded. Thus, the reason for bounty hunters, though the CLE calls them vigilantes. You don't really need a license or anything like that, but you do usually need a weapons license because most criminals don't want to play nice and come along quietly. That license I had ever since I got into doing scrap yard work. Some people just don't take negotiations well.
Anyway, being a part-time bounty hunter kept things interesting. Satisfied that "fight/get-the-bad-guy" urge.
"Excuse me, gentleman." I felt like being polite tonight.
"What do you want?" Parker growled at me. He was a few inches taller than me, unkempt brown facial hair, wrinkled suit, breath smelled of whiskey. Cheap whiskey. Yeah, these guys had been out of the job for a while and their bounty was just pocket change compared to some of the other heads-for-the-hunting, but the money was going to a good cause.
"I haven't seen you two around here. New to the neighborhood?" Small talk was nice.
"Get lost!" Walker growled at me. They must be down on their luck, too. I'm making a lot of assumptions tonight. Assumptions are fun.
I felt my cheeks stretch as I smiled.
"What's wrong with being friendly?"
Walker looked at Parker, Parker smiled, then Walker smiled, and then both of them looked at me.
"Nothing," Walker started, "Nothing at all."
They put down their pool sticks and started walking up to me very slowly. They weren't so drunk that they staggered. That happy little factor was more in their favor than mine, but I'm not that picky.
I smiled even broader and tilted my head down. I cracked the knuckles on both my hands one by one on the palm of my opposite hand. Shifting the weight on my feet, I got ready to go.
Parker wanted to go first. He took a swing at my jaw with his left hand, missing as I shifted my weight on my back foot. I pushed forward and punched his stomach, momentarily forgetting about Walker. Walker pushed Parker away after I hit him then kicked me in my ribs, sending me flying back. I landed on a table a few feet away, my weight crushing the wooden legs under me. When I opened my eyes I was staring at a big, hairy biker guy in leather vest with a gray beard, sunglasses, and many, many tattoos. He turned his head and looked to the north of me. Gazing there myself, I noticed a spilled glass of beer I must have knocked over. I looked back at the guy and smiled.
Walker had been standing with a doubled-over Parker laughing. The biker grabbed me by my black shirt and hoisted me up. He did NOT look happy.
"Oops." I said with some faked meekness.
He put me down and walked over to Walker (heh) and punched him in the jaw while he was still laughing.
Then realizing the entire bar of about thirty guys was watching, everyone just started throwing punches after the biker hit Walker.
Ducking the biker's buddy low blow, I slipped back over to Jonah.
Jonah looked, for lack of a better word, pissed.
He just shook his head, though. Translated: You started it, you finish it. And pay for the damages.
It'd happened to another friend of his a few weeks ago at the bar.
Though I'm not saying Jonah considers me a friend. I don't think I'll get off so easy.
I smiled as widely and as annoyingly as I could at Jonah. He went to storage to get the peace-keeping, double barrel shotgun. And call the police. No risk in trying to get around to the phone in storage.
We do love you Jonah.
I slunk around the room for a while, dodging hits, sometimes not.
Some guy across the room had got a hold of the steel-tipped darts. He had a crazed look in his eye.
I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Jonah being gone, I was left with keeping the bar fight "safe."
Slinking across the room (as I am so skinny) I eventually got to the crazy. He had been throwing them at someone - who I hoped had only escaped with some light scars.
I put my hands on the guy's ears, which forced him to look at me. He was blonde. Not nice blonde, straw-hick blonde. I pulled his head toward me and kneed him just under his ribs (well-remembered, Heero!). He gasped, then slumped to the floor (thank you gravity!). I picked up the darts and put them behind the bar.
Traveling back over to Walker, I noticed some other blonde guy talking to him. REALLY skinny blonde guy. If at all possible, he was thinner than I was. He had nice blonde hair, chestnut roots, kind of spiky, fell down close to his eyes/temples. Back to him being skinny. He was might-slip-through-the-cracks-in-the-floor-one-day, you-might-be-able-to-see-his-heart-beating-through-his-chest, close-to-no-chance-of-any-muscular-strength, miracle-he's-standing kind of skinny. Thin gray shirt, black pants, black trench coat, aerodynamic sunglasses. Someone who'd worry about bullies.
"So, anyway," I heard him saying as I drew near, "have you seen him?"
"No. Now why don't you hit the road, faggot?" Walker spit at him then turned and high-fived an amused Parker.
"Ok. Thanks for your help." he turned away, then turned back at them.
"Oh, by the way. You two wouldn't happen to be that smuggling pair, would you?"
"When we say leave, faggot, we mean, leave." Walker smiled in a way that made me all but comfortable.
"Hey!" I yelled over.
The skinny guy turned to me. Walker pulled back his right arm, hand tightened into a fist.
"WATCH-" I started, but the skinny guy's head was already turned and he had grabbed Walker's arm. Walker looked surprised. The skinny guy picked him up over his back, then threw him into the mirror over the bar and into all the bottles and glasses with a huge crash. No one seemed to notice all the broken glass. I looked at the skinny guy, completely shocked. He seemed to be frowning, then put his hands on his hips.
"That's seven years of bad luck, you know." He yelled over to Walker. Now as far as comparison goes, Walker was twice as muscular as this kid.
If you asked me, I'd say we have a new Heero on our hands.
"You bastard!" Parker rushed at him.
The skinny pulled a shiny 9mm automatic out of a shoulder holster I must have missed and pointed it straight between Parker's eyes, ceasing all movement from Parker as he stared down the barrel.
"I forgot about you." skinny-guy said with a smile. He pulled the top part of the gun back (ok, so I don't exactly remember all parts of the gun, so sue me) and put the gun right between Parker's eyebrows.
"Now that we're all friends, let's try this again. I'm looking for a guy a little under your height, brown hair in a long braid, no tag, no collar, responds to the name Duo Maxwell. Stop me when I've hit something."
Before I could speak up, Parker replied.
"I don't have to tell you anything." He spat, standing up straight. Wrong answer.
Skinny guy pulled the gun away and rested the shaft on the side of his head, still smiling.
"That a fact?" He said.
Skinny-guy stepped back, aimed the gun at Parker, and began to pull the trigger, then quickly changed aim to the ceiling above Parker's head. Loud gunshot. Some ceiling fragments fell on Parker's head. All other activity in the bar stopped and focused on Parker and skinny-guy.
Where was Jonah and the CLE?
Skinny-guy cocked the gun again and put it on Parker again.
"Try your luck a second time? But you have my guarantee," he said with a cynical smile, "I don't have to miss."
"If you're looking for Duo Maxwell, you're looking for me." I spoke up.
Skinny guy turned to look at me, but Parker had kicked him in the back the very first chance he got. With that, the fights resumed.
I ran in and elbowed Parker in his cheek, then high-kicked him in his neck, sending him sprawling.
I looked down at skinny-guy. He was pouting as he sat on the ground, holding his trench coat that had a brown foot print on the back of it.
"I just had this dry-cleaned, too." he said as he sighed. I saw the holster which was also occupied by the gun. Nice gun.
I'm sure I sweat-dropped.
I didn't have much more time to think though, as Parker was back on his feet and pissed. He jumped for me and had his arms around my neck before I could think.
That little bastard.
I arched my back toward Parker, then threw him in front of me, where he landed on his back. But then came Walker.
Walker had some pieces of glass in him - a lot of little cuts, and some not-so-little cuts. He was very bloody.
He went for me. I turned so that the pool table was behind me. Walker turned too. With my new perspective, I saw skinny-guy with a few others, including Parker, out for him. I wasn't sure if he'd need my help.
Back to Walker. He threw a punch my way, which I successfully dodged.
I then jumped up on the pool table, where I grabbed the pool stick and held it in defense.
Ok, I don't really know how to use one of these things, but I'm sure I looked like I did.
Walker came around to the other side of the table and I followed his movement. He tried to swipe at my legs, but I jumped back and effectively hit my head on the light above the table. I rubbed the back of my head while Walker grabbed my right leg, then pulled me onto my back.
Remembering the pool stick in my hand, I took a two hand grip on it and jabbed it as hard as I could into Walker's forehead.
Walker stumbled back as I scrambled off the table onto the opposite side. Regaining his balance, Walker glared at me from the other side of the table. He tried to run around to catch me on my left, but I ran to the right. The he tried to run to my right, but I ran to my left. This running continued for a few minutes until Walker jumped up on the table. I dropped the pool stick and slid under the table, finding myself standing right next to skinny-guy after I got up.
Skinny-guy looked like he was having fun, to say the least. A drunk old biker was throwing punches, he was taking his fists and spinning them around to where he fell into a table and chairs when I got there.
"Hi!" he said to me, a little out of breath as he dodged a punch.
I didn't get to say anything back, as Walker was rushing at me with a wooden chair above his head, screaming like anything.
"Excuse me!" I heard skinny-guy say as he grabbed a guy's fist, then high-kicked his stomach sending him sprawling into another guy, who was fighting someone else.
Skinny-guy then grabbed my neck and pushed my head forward so I was leaning over. Walker stopped in front of me as skinny-guy pulled the chair out of Walker's hands and throwing it into the bar with a crash. He then released me and high-kicked Walker onto his back.
I stood up and looked at Walker. He wasn't getting up anytime soon.
"So you're Duo Maxwell, huh?" skinny-guy asked, still smiling and out of breathe.
"Yeah." I said as I watched skinny guy elbow Parker under his ribs then punch his nose with the same arm. Skinny-guy's smile widened.
"Great! I thought I was never gonna find you! You move around WAY too much, you know that?"
"Yeah," I shouted, "but who are you?"
"Oh, RIGHT!" skinny-guy responded as he rolled his eyes. "I'm Paris!"
I'm sure I looked a little skeptical.
Another shot went off close to the door. Movement ceased.
"Everybody down! This is the police!"
Well, true to their word, some officers were standing at the door, and fighting in a public place was against the law.
They started coming in, and there were a lot of them. There was a lot of groans from the other guys as the officers pulled out handcuffs. Strangely, Paris looked confident.
"Excuse me!" Paris called over to an officer.
He didn't look happy as he approached us, but Paris looked confused.
"We," Paris started as he gestured between us, " just came in here after this was started, and were pushed away from the door. I myself am a private investigator, and this is my assistant, Duo Maxwell." I nodded to the officer. "We were tipped off these two gentlemen were in here and came to collect when we got 'involved.' Since this is in your hands now, I'd like it very much if we could leave the scene."
Paris looked hopeful.
The officer himself looked like he liked the fact that he'd bring in Walker and Parker, but wasn't so sure about us.
"Lemme see your license." the officer growled.
Paris smiled and pulled out a wallet. He got out a card and handed it to the officer. The officer looked at it, then handed it back to Paris.
"Ok. You can go."
Paris replaced the card and wallet, then smiled.
We followed the officer outside where Paris thanked him again. I saw Jonah over
by a streetlight, looking angry. I walked over to him.
"I can pay for all of this." I told him quickly. He looked at me.
"How bad is it?" he asked.
"Just remember, I will pay for all the damage."
Jonah looked a lot older as he sighed.
"How much do you think it'll be?" Paris asked me.
Jonah looked at Paris and seemed surprised - probably at just how skinny Paris is.
"Who's this?" Jonah asked.
"I'm Paris. I got your friend here outside." he thumbed at me. "So how much do you think, Mister Maxwell?"
Before I could reply, Paris pulled out a checkbook and slid behind me, placing the checkbook on my back.
Paris finished writing the check, then ripped it out of the book and handed it to
Jonah.
I swear Jonah's eyes popped out of his head.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" he screamed at Paris, who then looked confused.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he replied.
Jonah waved the check.
"You're just GIVING me a 1,000,000?"
"Yeah. Why? Do you have a problem with generosity?"
Jonah seemed as serious as I had ever seen him.
"This is for real?"
"As real as taxes and death." Paris replied with a smile.
Jonah looked straight at me.
"You have some very generous friends, you know that?"
Then Jonah walked away. I turned to Paris.
"Your place then?" he asked.
"And for what reason should I take you to my home?" I asked him pretty
sarcastically.
He hit my shoulder in response.
"You owe me."
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"So why were you looking for me?" I asked Paris when we got back to my little apartment.
He turned around to face me.
"I take it you don't clean much." he said.
I closed my eyes and tilted my chin upward.
"You shouldn't be making personal remarks." I told him. I opened one eye, then both. He was looking at a picture in the kitchen.
"Who's this?" he asked.
"Huh?"
I walked over and looked over his shoulder. It was a picture of Hildi and I taken 2
years ago.
"Oh, that's just my old roommate." I stated and stood back up.
"Really?" he said as he straightened up and smiled, "She's cute."
"Yeah, well…"
"So what happened?" he asked as he sat down in one of the table chairs.
"I don't know." I told him from behind the counter. He leaned on his elbows on the table.
"She just packed up and left one day while I was working." I said with a shrug.
"You think that's the whole story?" he asked.
"She left a note."
"What'd say?"
"Not to come looking for her."
"Let me guess, you were friends with benefits?"
I threw my arms up in the air.
"There you go with the personal remarks again!"
He leaned back in the chair with his arms folded across his chest.
"Well?"
"Sort of. It was a one time thing." I admitted quickly.
"I bet it was more than one time."
I turned away from him and crossed my arms, even though I knew it wasn't a good idea.
"Believe what you want." I stated rather coldly.
"I will."
I heard his chair scrape on the floor.
"So she's just been gone for a few years?"
"Two."
"Ah."
"So what do you do that gets you so much money?" I asked as I turned around.
"I'm a doctor."
I think I nearly choked.
"You're a doctor? A licensed doctor?"
"Yep. Obstetrician."
"Then what about your PI license?"
"That's legit. I do investigation as a hobby. More of a person-finding gig, though."
"So what do you want with me?"
"I came to find you, of course."
"Why me?"
"I'm working for a private client. He needs to find someone you were once close
to."
"And who would that be?" I asked as I re-crossed my arms.
"A former comrade. A Gundam Pilot by the name of Heero Yuy?"
I dropped my arms and jaw in shock.
Who would be looking for Heero?
"Who's your client?" I demanded.
"So you do remember Heero."
"Who's the client?"
"No one you know, I can guarantee that. Very reserved person. Somewhat
antisocial. You know the type."
All too well.
"Why does he want to find Heero?" I asked. Paris shook his head.
"No idea. And I never said my client was male."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Is it that girl? Relena Darlain?"
He shook his head again.
"I told you, you don't know them."
I sighed.
"So why come looking for me? I don't know where Heero is. I doubt anyone does."
"Nobody does. But that's not the point."
"Then what's the point?"
"The point is you know what Heero Yuy looks like."
"So? Lots of people know what Heero Yuy looks like."
"But," Paris smiled, "you worked with him the most, and you have the clearest schedule."
I blinked at Paris. How could he know all that?
"So I know what he looks like. That's the only reason you need me?"
"I need you to profile him."
"What do you mean?"
"I have a good friend on earth who can find anyone based on their description,
habits, tendencies, etc, etc."
"And you want me to come with you to earth?"
"That's the small of it."
"What's the big of it?"
"You could help me find him, or you could stay here and not come at all. It's your choice."
"And how are you getting to earth? Your private jet?"
"Unless you're looking to fly your Gundam, I thought we'd take commercial."
"When's the flight?"
"Tomorrow morning, plane leaves at 6."
My head was spinning with the ideas. A few years ago, I would have jumped at the chance to go find Heero, but now I wasn't so sure. I mean, I had my job, and the apartment, and I couldn't really just leave them both unattended.
"What about my house? My job?"
"Your self-employed, and I have another friend who can take care of that."
"So just pack up and leave?"
"Sure."
I thought another moment.
"Look," he started, "I may look it, but I don't have all night to sit around and bat this back and forth, so come to the L2 spaceport around 5:30 am. If you're not there, I leave without you and find someone else."
I looked at him, he looked serious.
"Ok." I said.
Paris nodded, then smiled brightly.
"Well, then, goodnight Mister Maxwell!"
He walked quickly over to the door, opened the door, then waved.
"Sleep tight! Don't let the bed bugs bite! Really! Those little bastard's 'll kill ya!"
Then he shut the door and that was it.
It was around 11 pm, and I needed sleep.
I dragged myself to my bedroom, kicked off my shoes, lied down on the mattress, covered myself up with my blanket, and then closed my eyes.
The phone rang.
"Goddamnit!" I swore.
I reached around for the phone until I picked up the cordless receiver. Pressing a button, I rolled on my back and brought the phone to my ear.
"What?"
"Quatre's been assassinated!"
I sat straight up, trying to drink in the statement.
"W-what?"
"Quatre's been assassinated!" the voice on the other end gasped, quite out of breath.
"Who is this?" I said.
The other end hung up after I said that.
Hanging up the phone myself, I turned it back on and tried to find out who called me.
Someone called me from a payphone.
But who? The voice was so familiar…female…
Hildi?!
No, couldn't be…but still, I wondered.
After turning on the TV my suspicions were confirmed by the news report. Though he wasn't dead, someone still had tried to kill him. They said he'd been taken to the hospital in critical condition, and there was nothing left to do but wait.
Turning off the television, I slammed my head down on my pillow and dropped the phone by the bedside. I pulled the covers over my head.
Let me sleep. Dear God, let me sleep.
Author's note: I don't really like writing notes, but hey, I got this chapter done! Hurrah! Just a little FYI, the chapters go in order of the characters by their number (1 - Heero, 2 - Duo, 3 - Trowa, 4 - Quatre, 5 - Wufei, 6 - Heero, etc) and some other characters have chapters, but that's later. Much later. This will be a long fic, but it's good, or so I'm told. Well, anyway, thanks SO MUCH for actually reading this and I hope you're enjoying it, SO - why don't you send a review my way? ^-^