That's Childish, So Childish…
Chapter Six: You Looked Right Into Those Blue Eyes And Knew…
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Disclaimer: I own… well, the fish hasn't died yet. Teddy bear's somewhere halfway across the country with my dad right now, so I'm not sure I can claim it right now (he puts a stuffed animal on his computer for luck, and couldn't find his so I loaned it to him). So now is a bad time to sue me.
Warnings: Well, not /much/ blows up this time. Maybe people's tempers do. Some confusion. Sarcasm, irony, a lot of eyebrow-lifting, and perhaps medical detail.
Pairings: It'll be 6 and someone, eventually. Starting to look like 6x2x6… But not yet…
Duo and Quatre finally meet Zechs at that one village with the underground Maganac base that Oz tried to blow up in the series. Treize decides that yes, the army has gone to the dogs finally. Or the purple dinosaur, anyway. Yes, Barney can be evil…
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Duo was quite glad that the plane had gone down nearby. Riding in the back of Abdul's Land Rover required that passengers cling to the frame for dear life. If it had shock absorbers, they'd been worn to the bone—and Abdul had a thing for speed. Rather wild speeds. And wilder turns at such speeds. Duo wasn't the most religious guy, but after that ride, he held a greater respect for the power of prayer.
//Okay, I don't think I'm going to tempt the Old Man's whims like that again… I think I'll just walk back after we deal with things!// Shaking his head, he trailed after the others on silent feet as they approached the still form of the crashed plane on foot. Drawing his faithful gun from his belt, he drew the safety off, cocking it. //Note to self: even though they're a great bunch of guys, do NOT accept requests to borrow Deathscythe! Not if you want to keep the current paintjob…//
He had to admit, however, the Maganacs were good at what they did… though that was mostly what the official world considered guerrilla tactics. The Land Rovers had been parked behind a small dune, so they could approach cautiously on foot. And the red fezzes were hidden right now, everyone wearing sandy-colored ponchos, to blend into the surroundings better. One man with a small missile launcher had stayed with the vehicles and a pair of field glasses… ready to blast the plane's remains to dust if danger appeared, before such danger could shoot down the approaching men.
Right now, the plane simply lay still. All they could see was the ripped wing, sheared off near the engine, and that length of the plane that the stub was still attached to. Half the wing's length lay abandoned fifty feet behind the dead machine, flat on the sand, like an oversized breadcrumb trying to point the direction the plane had come from.
//I wonder what this thing's doing here, anyway?// Deathscythe's pilot mused thoughtfully, even as he obeyed Rashid's hand-signal for the party to split to go around the plane to the other side.
Rashid had gone towards the back, but Duo followed those going around the nose. The leading two Maganacs took positions to cover the cockpit windows with their guns, which were open but offered no signs of the pilot, dead or alive. Duo was left to take the next position—the first to round the nose of the plane, half-buried in the sand as it was.
//Well… Here goes.// Taking a deep breath, Duo quickly stepped around the nose, gun at ready…
And blinked, lifting his head.
//A /kid/?!?//
Sitting with his back against the plane was a young kid, looking battered and bloody from ragged-seeming boots to long pale hair, but not moving—just sitting there with a makeshift blanket-bag beside him and a silvery bowl- like thing in his lap.
//A kid… What the heck is he doing here? Oz doesn't recruit kids /that/ young—heck, /nobody/ does! I'm fifteen, and /I'm/ under the usual age limit for war-business and terrorism!//
That was it. Just the kid and his stuff. The plane door on this side hung open, but all remained quiet, unmoving.
Rashid stepped around the tail farther down, looked at Duo's alert stance, and slowly wandered over, gun lowered but still in hand. A couple other Maganacs flowed from behind Duo into the plane…
Duo lowered his gun, scratching his head bemusedly. //This is… This is just /weird/.// "Ah… hey there," he offered awkwardly.
He gave Rashid a wry look. The older man simply smiled slightly, not bothering to take the initiative—and leaving the kid all to Duo to handle.
//Great. Makes me wonder if he knew all along and just wanted me to baby- sit.//
The boy looked up from the strange helmet in his lap to look at both of them as they stepped a bit closer and offered a tired, "Hi…" Pale blue eyes were almost hidden by those long silvery bangs… and seemed amused.
Something about those eyes made Duo pause. They seemed… too old to match the boy's bodily age. Wrong, almost. Not in the sort of way that usually made Duo's hackles rise, such as those of cruel personalities, but in a puzzling way, as if this pale kid had seen far more than Duo, even at such a young age…
//Nah, not possible…//
"All clear!" called a voice from inside the plane.
The boy glanced at the door at that, and giggled a little. "I could have told you that…"
//Where's the pilot then?// Duo wondered, putting the safety back on his gun and tucking it into the back of his belt again. "Then who piloted this thing?"
"Oh…" The kid managed a faint grin, seeming too worn out to manage the whole thing. "I did…"
Rashid's left eyebrow skyrocketed like a firecracker, skeptical.
Duo blinked, considered that answer, blinked again, then shook his head. "Hey, kid, I'm sure you're great but… a plane?"
"Well, it /does/ fly like a dead rhinoceros…" Again, a quiet half-giggle, half-chuckle. "It wasn't /too/ bad… Until they shot the one engine and made a hole in the gas lines… Then it /fell/ like a dead rhinoceros."
Rashid made a faint coughing sound. Glancing over at the tall man, Duo wondered if he was trying not to laugh at this strange story. //The kid's either got a wild imagination… or maybe Heero's got competition for that 'perfect soldier' title. Where would a kid learn to fly a thing like this, anyway?//
"Who shot at you?" the Maganac asked, after a moment of quiet.
The youth frowned at the sand a moment, one hand rubbing his cheek. "I'm… I /think/ they're more Romefeller's men than Oz's… But I'm not sure. I didn't have a chance to ask... My hands were full at the time…"
Unable to resist, Duo asked, "With what?" Unbidden, he had the image of the boy with both arms wrestling with the steering like a man trying to wrestle a prehistoric crocodile into submission—with almost as little success.
Shaking his head a little, the boy smiled wryly. "It's a /long/ story… And you won't believe me anyway."
Rashid glanced at Duo a touch warily, then looked back at the boy, tucking his firearm away as a thoughtful expression slid over his rugged features. "I would still like to hear that story sometime…" he rumbled.
//Me, too,// Duo chuckled. //If /he/ really flew this thing, it's /really/ got to be a wild story!// "Well," he started, scratching at his ear again, "maybe we should just go back to the beginning and start this over right. I'm Duo Maxwell… This here's a friend of mine, Rashid."
The huge Arabian nodded politely, but didn't add anything.
The pale boy blinked at first Duo then Rashid a long moment, then moved his right hand to wipe at a faint trickle of blood starting to slowly streak down the side of his face. Until he moved, Duo hadn't realized that the youth was hurt, but now he could see that red burns marked the kid's hands and forearms, and cuts adorned his left side as well.
//What the heck happened to this kid? He looks like someone bombed a house down around him!//
After a long moment, the youth asked quietly, firmly, "Do you like Oz?"
Rashid frowned, and exchanged looks with Duo. //'Like' Oz?// Deathscythe's pilot laughed silently. //That's a funny way of putting it…// But Duo left Rashid to answer that serious question.
"No," the large man stated firmly, clearly, with quiet conviction. "We are the Maganac Corps. We fought the Federation, we still fight Oz, and we will fight anyone else who acts like those two organizations."
Silent for a moment again, the boy looked at the sand and the cracked mask in his lap, as if trying to decide something. Then he made up his mind. "Good, then… I'm M—I'm Zechs Merquise."
//Was he about to say something else?// Duo frowned a little at that thought. //Well, it's /his/ name. Not everyone uses their real one. That's okay—I'm used to it after Heero, right?//
Duo grinned broadly, and strode over to within five feet of the boy, going down on one knee and pulling off his usual black cap. "Nice to meet you… I'd shake your hand, kid, but you look a bit worse for wear there. You okay?"
Seen closer, the boy really did have a classic aristocratic face, and an air of innocent nobility about him. A cute kid who looked like he'd run into a /real/ dragon when playing childhood games of fighting an imaginary one. And those expressive eyes… were strangely sad, a touch confused, and /quite/ tired.
Zechs shook his head negatively. "I think I'll be okay, but… I think you're right."
A growl gurgled nearby, making Duo glance down at the kid's belly, amused despite the sight of the Oz belt buckle and the obviously chopped-down clothes. "Hungry too, it sounds like. But hey, so am I—we missed breakfast."
A tired giggle escaped the boy. "I missed /dinner/, too… I hope you don't mind sharing."
Duo looked up to find an amused-looking Rashid standing just behind him, arms folded across his chest and smirking slightly. "I'm sure Master Quatre won't mind sharing," he rumbled slyly.
"Hey, Rashid—you won't /believe/ what we've found!" Abdul's head suddenly popped out the plane's door. "A /Gundam/! And some big white suit—"
The instant Abdul began to report, the boy had stiffened, eyes widening—now he jumped to his feet, though he swayed a bit on them precariously. "Hey, those are /mine/!"
Duo's eyebrows jumped upward. Rashid's had already beat them to the man's hairline. //What in space…?!? A /Gundam/? Where the heck did a kid like this get a /Gundam/?//
"/Yours/?" Rashid drawled, amused—though his eyes were wary where they rested on the youth.
Zechs frowned at the two older men (in body anyway). "Well, the Gundam is 01's, but I /know/ what he looks like, and neither of you are him… The white one's mine. And you can't have either of them."
Duo couldn't restrain himself. He laughed helplessly at the boy's claim. "But you could barely use the controls of this /plane/! You can't handle a mobile suit—heck, I should know! /I'm/ a Gundam pilot, after all!"
Rashid just shook his head disbelievingly at the boy and nodded to confirm Duo's words.
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Looking from one to the other, Zechs rested a hand against the side of the plane for support—his legs really /did/ look shaky. And they felt shakier. His head felt light, and his stomach quite empty, almost achingly so, now that it had reminded him about food and his own current lack thereof.
//So he's a Gundam pilot too, then…?// "Which one are you, then…?" he asked uncertainly. //I can believe it, though… You're the same age as 01, and just as brash.//
The black-clad young man calling himself Duo stood up slowly, grinning mischievously. "I call mine 'Deathscythe'. Big, black, looks like Death… and is."
Frowning slightly, Milliardo could just summon the image to mind from his hazy recollections. He knew that one, though he had faced it only on screens and not in person... Despite a few close calls, which he was grateful to have avoided. "02, then…" he murmured tiredly.
//My head /hurts/… Shouldn't underestimate this one either, though. 02 has a pretty impressive record, too.// He swayed slightly, taking a few deep breaths. //Damn, I really don't feel well…//
A concerned look flashed over Duo's face when Zechs looked up again, and a hand moved to offer support. "Hey, kid, you /really/ don't look good—"
Reflexively, Zechs moved sideways in a flash to get away from that hand, snapping out, "Don't! Just… Just leave me alone…"
//Don't! Don't touch me! I… I…// Half-remembered memories of some dark time, cruel people, things he didn't want to remember and was /afraid/ to remember right now, tickled his conscious mind, making him dizzy and his head ache all the more. He clutched at his head with his hands, closing his eyes, trying to keep those half-memories at bay. //I don't want to remember… Not /that/…//
"Okay, okay… Sorry, just wanted to help, kid. You look rather like Death warmed over, you know?" Duo was chattering cheerfully—though his dark blue eyes were full of silent empathy. Somehow, perhaps he'd guessed…
"We can take these two mobile suits to where Duo's Gundam is being stored… It will be safe there as well, if you will accept our hospitality," Rashid offered quietly, his stance still impassive, though some sort of sadness had touched his dark eyes. "Oz will surely be looking for this plane…"
Zechs could only nod glumly, still swaying on his feet, admitting that the man was probably right. //And I haven't much choice… I can't even get to the village on my own right now…//
"Hey, Rashid… That big white thing looks like some kind of older model. But some of it would help in finishing up this Gundam, they're so alike—" Abdul added cheerfully, sticking his head back out.
//No! Not my Tallgeese!// "You leave my Tallgeese alone!" Zechs yelled, lunging at the man in the door way of the plane with the lightening speed of his old reflexes.
Trying to, anyway. For one, the doorway he'd fallen out of was a good two feet off the sand, and he only stood at three feet right now.
And Zechs's feet had finally decided to protest his abuse of them by going on strike, taking the rest of his body with it. He stumbled heavily, the world graying around him, his headache suddenly feeling like it was weighing down his head physically. His body felt so weak…
//Traitor,// he thought at himself.
Strong arms caught him in time to keep him from slamming his face into the sand again. "Hey, kid, it's okay—Abdul won't use your white suit for replacement parts, don't worry," Duo's voice hastily assured, though seemingly from a distance. "We'll make sure, don't worry…"
Rashid's deep voice was murmuring something, too, but Miri couldn't catch it. He could only feebly bat at one of Duo's encircling arms, unable to stop the blackness sweeping over him. "My Tallgeese… You promise?" His voice sounded faint, even to him.
A quiet laugh. "Yeah, I promise. And Duo Maxwell may run and hide, but he never tells a lie."
//Well… that's good to know… I guess I'm not the only one with some sense of honor…//
That was his last thought before the darkness finally welcomed him to unconsciousness.
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Duo smiled sadly as he lowered the kid to the ground gently. //He's so light—must be half-starved, too, not just abused. No wonder he's fainted… I'm surprised he got this far. I'm surprised he managed to stand!//
Rashid peered over Duo's shoulder at the boy, making a face. "He'll need a doctor from the village. We'll see to that—and the mobile suits… and the plane's 'disappearance' as well. Can you take him back?"
Deathscythe's pilot nodded firmly. "He's light enough… Poor kid. Can I use one of the Land Rovers?"
"Sure."
As he slid an arm under the boy's legs, to heft the light form in his arms, Duo glanced back up at the tall Maganac.
Rashid chuckled softly, a rolling rumble. "Don't worry. I will make sure Abdul and the others don't chop his mobile suit up."
//Good. Who knows what this kid might do, considering he got this far somehow.// "Yeah, well… I /do/ like to keep my promises, you know… and he looks like he's been through enough for one day."
Rashid nodded grimly, dark eyes narrowing angrily, staring through the pale boy.
Duo, too, looked down at the boy he was lifting in his arms, sympathizing with the tall Arabian.
//Kid, if I come across the guy who hurt you like that, you can bet that good old Death'll be sure to shove the fellow's soul firmly into the Hell where it belongs…//
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Treize Kushrenada rested one hand on the window glass, staring out at the horizon—and beyond it—while trying not to grind his teeth in frustrated anger. Not that anyone who hadn't known him a long time would notice. He was adept at hiding his feelings with the perfect poker-face. All generals had to be. However, loyal Lady Une would have known, by the tension in his shoulders. Zechs would have noticed it, too… But neither of them were here.
//Merry-go-rounds. My best pilot is out there, perhaps barely able to fly his battered up plane and aimed out at the center of empty desert, and these fools are trying to wrap me up in red tape! At least some of my men are on /that/ trail… Zechs… no, Milliardo Peacecraft, for you are now free… I hope you're all right.//
Taking a tighter rein on his impatience, Treize heard the door behind him open, and set a slight frown in place to unsettle the visitor. //I hope you're all right, Milliardo… Because I might join you, out there and free, very shortly. And then we'll both need all the friends and allies we can get!//
Turning, he found himself facing a rather… stiff seeming woman of middle height, with a complexion skewed by nature just enough to set any observer's teeth on edge. Her eyes were narrow, colder than the half- abandoned base in Antarctica, of a grim golden hue. Something about her encouraged cultured people like Treize to cringe in disgust at what the bowels of humanity vomited up. Luckily, Treize managed to retain his poker- face, though his mind reeled in shock behind the safety of that facade.
//Good Lord… No wonder Romefeller hides someone like her out here, in the middle of nowhere…//
Waving politely for her to be seated, Treize decided she must be of some importance here… if she was the one chosen to answer his questions. //So be it… I needn't gaze on her face, after all. I'm not here to find candidates for a beauty pageant!// "Madam, I have a few questions… I take it, as you are here, that you may have some answers for me?"
Her eyes narrowed darkly. They somehow reminded him of a cruel wind deciding to gather its strength before shoving over some poor farmer's home, barn and all. "I am Karina Heldon. My research and that of my colleagues are the primary importance of this base, Mister Kushrenada, so we are eager that you and your men remove yourselves out of our way as soon as possible."
//You want to get rid of me… and fast. I wonder why?// Turning back to the window, he considered the sands stretching out before him in the hot daylight. Most everyone in their right minds would have been napping about now, but he had refused to let them until his answers came. //I know I'm a pest… But I want my answers, and I want them /now/. What the heck did you guys do to Zechs!?!//
"I've learned that one of my men were in the care of this base recently," Treize began quietly, voice deadly calm. "Perhaps his name is familiar… Colonel Zechs Merquise."
Her faint reflection in the glass looked even more disgusted at that name—if that were possible. //Good God, woman, whatever did Zechs do to /you/?// Treize wondered, a bit surprised by that reaction. //He's a good man… or was until /you/ lot ruined him!//
"The name is unfamiliar to me, but then, I haven't read about anyone recently brought to this base. As I said, I do research, not babysitting," she returned coldly.
Frowning firmly at the glass, Treize fought the urge to clench his fists. //You know he was here… And I bet you had something to do with him during his stay. I want to know what you bastards did to him!// "Surely you'd recognize a description of him, then? He /is/ rather hard to miss, especially on a base of this size. Tall, long pale blonde hair, used to wear a silvery mask, if not still? If not you, then I'm /sure/ someone on this base has…"
Miss Heldon made a face at Treize's back. "I suppose I may have seen him about. But he isn't here anymore, then."
"I know… I believe he is the one responsible for the disarray of this base during my arrival." The thought made Treize feel smug. //Zechs got them back… a little, anyway… in his departure. Barney music… I'd never have considered that one!//
"Then you no longer need to be here," came her icy reply.
Turning to face her, Treize dropped a good portion of his façade. "Yes, I do. What did you and those of this base do to him?"
Caught off guard for a moment, Miss Heldon jerked back a bit in surprise. Then her voice dropped into a snarl. "Be too merciful, in /my/ opinion. Why should you care? He's gone, free to return to you…" A cruel smile twisted her mouth slowly as she added, "if he's in any shape to do so… If not, you'll never find him, I expect."
Confused, half-shocked by the scientist, Treize stared at her, mulling over her answer. Anger boiled up inside him, threatening to crack past his control. //How /dare/ she! He was a good man, a human being, damn it, not some bloody lab rat!// "What did you do to him," he demanded, voice deadly.
The scientist smirked, and turned to go. "You can't do anything to me, Mister Kushrenada… Like the rest of this base, I am directly under Duke Dermail's orders… not /yours/. Go find your pretty little songbird that flew the coop. If you're lucky, you might find a feather, if you try hard enough…"
It took everything Treize had not to wring her neck as she left the room.
Slamming his fist against a nearby table in frustrated rage, the young general paced the room a moment, fuming. //So, now, Dermail, you're starting to hide even your projects from me? And replacing soldiers with remote-control toys… I can see the coup coming clearly enough… What was /my/ fate to be, hmmm? Following Zechs's to a hell-hole such as this?//
Slamming his fist against the table once more, he froze sharply, teeth set in a death's grin. //That's IT. I'm taking those still loyal, and still sensible, and we're making a coup of our own. Let's see just who is right: me with my faith in humanity, or you and your mobile dolls…//
His blue eyes strayed to the distant sands out the window once more.
//Just as soon as I find where my old friend has vanished off to…//
Calling for his loyal men, Treize's chilly smile warmed slyly. //The Gundam pilots' friends and allies aren't the only ones good at infiltrating bases. My men should have those surveillance tapes by now. Now we'll see what these mad scientists have been up to behind my back…//
Mischief touched the young general's narrowed blue eyes. "And after that, Duke Dermail be hanged. We'll find Zechs… then show that man and this lot a /real/ war!"
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To be continued…
Chapter Six: You Looked Right Into Those Blue Eyes And Knew…
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Disclaimer: I own… well, the fish hasn't died yet. Teddy bear's somewhere halfway across the country with my dad right now, so I'm not sure I can claim it right now (he puts a stuffed animal on his computer for luck, and couldn't find his so I loaned it to him). So now is a bad time to sue me.
Warnings: Well, not /much/ blows up this time. Maybe people's tempers do. Some confusion. Sarcasm, irony, a lot of eyebrow-lifting, and perhaps medical detail.
Pairings: It'll be 6 and someone, eventually. Starting to look like 6x2x6… But not yet…
Duo and Quatre finally meet Zechs at that one village with the underground Maganac base that Oz tried to blow up in the series. Treize decides that yes, the army has gone to the dogs finally. Or the purple dinosaur, anyway. Yes, Barney can be evil…
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Duo was quite glad that the plane had gone down nearby. Riding in the back of Abdul's Land Rover required that passengers cling to the frame for dear life. If it had shock absorbers, they'd been worn to the bone—and Abdul had a thing for speed. Rather wild speeds. And wilder turns at such speeds. Duo wasn't the most religious guy, but after that ride, he held a greater respect for the power of prayer.
//Okay, I don't think I'm going to tempt the Old Man's whims like that again… I think I'll just walk back after we deal with things!// Shaking his head, he trailed after the others on silent feet as they approached the still form of the crashed plane on foot. Drawing his faithful gun from his belt, he drew the safety off, cocking it. //Note to self: even though they're a great bunch of guys, do NOT accept requests to borrow Deathscythe! Not if you want to keep the current paintjob…//
He had to admit, however, the Maganacs were good at what they did… though that was mostly what the official world considered guerrilla tactics. The Land Rovers had been parked behind a small dune, so they could approach cautiously on foot. And the red fezzes were hidden right now, everyone wearing sandy-colored ponchos, to blend into the surroundings better. One man with a small missile launcher had stayed with the vehicles and a pair of field glasses… ready to blast the plane's remains to dust if danger appeared, before such danger could shoot down the approaching men.
Right now, the plane simply lay still. All they could see was the ripped wing, sheared off near the engine, and that length of the plane that the stub was still attached to. Half the wing's length lay abandoned fifty feet behind the dead machine, flat on the sand, like an oversized breadcrumb trying to point the direction the plane had come from.
//I wonder what this thing's doing here, anyway?// Deathscythe's pilot mused thoughtfully, even as he obeyed Rashid's hand-signal for the party to split to go around the plane to the other side.
Rashid had gone towards the back, but Duo followed those going around the nose. The leading two Maganacs took positions to cover the cockpit windows with their guns, which were open but offered no signs of the pilot, dead or alive. Duo was left to take the next position—the first to round the nose of the plane, half-buried in the sand as it was.
//Well… Here goes.// Taking a deep breath, Duo quickly stepped around the nose, gun at ready…
And blinked, lifting his head.
//A /kid/?!?//
Sitting with his back against the plane was a young kid, looking battered and bloody from ragged-seeming boots to long pale hair, but not moving—just sitting there with a makeshift blanket-bag beside him and a silvery bowl- like thing in his lap.
//A kid… What the heck is he doing here? Oz doesn't recruit kids /that/ young—heck, /nobody/ does! I'm fifteen, and /I'm/ under the usual age limit for war-business and terrorism!//
That was it. Just the kid and his stuff. The plane door on this side hung open, but all remained quiet, unmoving.
Rashid stepped around the tail farther down, looked at Duo's alert stance, and slowly wandered over, gun lowered but still in hand. A couple other Maganacs flowed from behind Duo into the plane…
Duo lowered his gun, scratching his head bemusedly. //This is… This is just /weird/.// "Ah… hey there," he offered awkwardly.
He gave Rashid a wry look. The older man simply smiled slightly, not bothering to take the initiative—and leaving the kid all to Duo to handle.
//Great. Makes me wonder if he knew all along and just wanted me to baby- sit.//
The boy looked up from the strange helmet in his lap to look at both of them as they stepped a bit closer and offered a tired, "Hi…" Pale blue eyes were almost hidden by those long silvery bangs… and seemed amused.
Something about those eyes made Duo pause. They seemed… too old to match the boy's bodily age. Wrong, almost. Not in the sort of way that usually made Duo's hackles rise, such as those of cruel personalities, but in a puzzling way, as if this pale kid had seen far more than Duo, even at such a young age…
//Nah, not possible…//
"All clear!" called a voice from inside the plane.
The boy glanced at the door at that, and giggled a little. "I could have told you that…"
//Where's the pilot then?// Duo wondered, putting the safety back on his gun and tucking it into the back of his belt again. "Then who piloted this thing?"
"Oh…" The kid managed a faint grin, seeming too worn out to manage the whole thing. "I did…"
Rashid's left eyebrow skyrocketed like a firecracker, skeptical.
Duo blinked, considered that answer, blinked again, then shook his head. "Hey, kid, I'm sure you're great but… a plane?"
"Well, it /does/ fly like a dead rhinoceros…" Again, a quiet half-giggle, half-chuckle. "It wasn't /too/ bad… Until they shot the one engine and made a hole in the gas lines… Then it /fell/ like a dead rhinoceros."
Rashid made a faint coughing sound. Glancing over at the tall man, Duo wondered if he was trying not to laugh at this strange story. //The kid's either got a wild imagination… or maybe Heero's got competition for that 'perfect soldier' title. Where would a kid learn to fly a thing like this, anyway?//
"Who shot at you?" the Maganac asked, after a moment of quiet.
The youth frowned at the sand a moment, one hand rubbing his cheek. "I'm… I /think/ they're more Romefeller's men than Oz's… But I'm not sure. I didn't have a chance to ask... My hands were full at the time…"
Unable to resist, Duo asked, "With what?" Unbidden, he had the image of the boy with both arms wrestling with the steering like a man trying to wrestle a prehistoric crocodile into submission—with almost as little success.
Shaking his head a little, the boy smiled wryly. "It's a /long/ story… And you won't believe me anyway."
Rashid glanced at Duo a touch warily, then looked back at the boy, tucking his firearm away as a thoughtful expression slid over his rugged features. "I would still like to hear that story sometime…" he rumbled.
//Me, too,// Duo chuckled. //If /he/ really flew this thing, it's /really/ got to be a wild story!// "Well," he started, scratching at his ear again, "maybe we should just go back to the beginning and start this over right. I'm Duo Maxwell… This here's a friend of mine, Rashid."
The huge Arabian nodded politely, but didn't add anything.
The pale boy blinked at first Duo then Rashid a long moment, then moved his right hand to wipe at a faint trickle of blood starting to slowly streak down the side of his face. Until he moved, Duo hadn't realized that the youth was hurt, but now he could see that red burns marked the kid's hands and forearms, and cuts adorned his left side as well.
//What the heck happened to this kid? He looks like someone bombed a house down around him!//
After a long moment, the youth asked quietly, firmly, "Do you like Oz?"
Rashid frowned, and exchanged looks with Duo. //'Like' Oz?// Deathscythe's pilot laughed silently. //That's a funny way of putting it…// But Duo left Rashid to answer that serious question.
"No," the large man stated firmly, clearly, with quiet conviction. "We are the Maganac Corps. We fought the Federation, we still fight Oz, and we will fight anyone else who acts like those two organizations."
Silent for a moment again, the boy looked at the sand and the cracked mask in his lap, as if trying to decide something. Then he made up his mind. "Good, then… I'm M—I'm Zechs Merquise."
//Was he about to say something else?// Duo frowned a little at that thought. //Well, it's /his/ name. Not everyone uses their real one. That's okay—I'm used to it after Heero, right?//
Duo grinned broadly, and strode over to within five feet of the boy, going down on one knee and pulling off his usual black cap. "Nice to meet you… I'd shake your hand, kid, but you look a bit worse for wear there. You okay?"
Seen closer, the boy really did have a classic aristocratic face, and an air of innocent nobility about him. A cute kid who looked like he'd run into a /real/ dragon when playing childhood games of fighting an imaginary one. And those expressive eyes… were strangely sad, a touch confused, and /quite/ tired.
Zechs shook his head negatively. "I think I'll be okay, but… I think you're right."
A growl gurgled nearby, making Duo glance down at the kid's belly, amused despite the sight of the Oz belt buckle and the obviously chopped-down clothes. "Hungry too, it sounds like. But hey, so am I—we missed breakfast."
A tired giggle escaped the boy. "I missed /dinner/, too… I hope you don't mind sharing."
Duo looked up to find an amused-looking Rashid standing just behind him, arms folded across his chest and smirking slightly. "I'm sure Master Quatre won't mind sharing," he rumbled slyly.
"Hey, Rashid—you won't /believe/ what we've found!" Abdul's head suddenly popped out the plane's door. "A /Gundam/! And some big white suit—"
The instant Abdul began to report, the boy had stiffened, eyes widening—now he jumped to his feet, though he swayed a bit on them precariously. "Hey, those are /mine/!"
Duo's eyebrows jumped upward. Rashid's had already beat them to the man's hairline. //What in space…?!? A /Gundam/? Where the heck did a kid like this get a /Gundam/?//
"/Yours/?" Rashid drawled, amused—though his eyes were wary where they rested on the youth.
Zechs frowned at the two older men (in body anyway). "Well, the Gundam is 01's, but I /know/ what he looks like, and neither of you are him… The white one's mine. And you can't have either of them."
Duo couldn't restrain himself. He laughed helplessly at the boy's claim. "But you could barely use the controls of this /plane/! You can't handle a mobile suit—heck, I should know! /I'm/ a Gundam pilot, after all!"
Rashid just shook his head disbelievingly at the boy and nodded to confirm Duo's words.
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Looking from one to the other, Zechs rested a hand against the side of the plane for support—his legs really /did/ look shaky. And they felt shakier. His head felt light, and his stomach quite empty, almost achingly so, now that it had reminded him about food and his own current lack thereof.
//So he's a Gundam pilot too, then…?// "Which one are you, then…?" he asked uncertainly. //I can believe it, though… You're the same age as 01, and just as brash.//
The black-clad young man calling himself Duo stood up slowly, grinning mischievously. "I call mine 'Deathscythe'. Big, black, looks like Death… and is."
Frowning slightly, Milliardo could just summon the image to mind from his hazy recollections. He knew that one, though he had faced it only on screens and not in person... Despite a few close calls, which he was grateful to have avoided. "02, then…" he murmured tiredly.
//My head /hurts/… Shouldn't underestimate this one either, though. 02 has a pretty impressive record, too.// He swayed slightly, taking a few deep breaths. //Damn, I really don't feel well…//
A concerned look flashed over Duo's face when Zechs looked up again, and a hand moved to offer support. "Hey, kid, you /really/ don't look good—"
Reflexively, Zechs moved sideways in a flash to get away from that hand, snapping out, "Don't! Just… Just leave me alone…"
//Don't! Don't touch me! I… I…// Half-remembered memories of some dark time, cruel people, things he didn't want to remember and was /afraid/ to remember right now, tickled his conscious mind, making him dizzy and his head ache all the more. He clutched at his head with his hands, closing his eyes, trying to keep those half-memories at bay. //I don't want to remember… Not /that/…//
"Okay, okay… Sorry, just wanted to help, kid. You look rather like Death warmed over, you know?" Duo was chattering cheerfully—though his dark blue eyes were full of silent empathy. Somehow, perhaps he'd guessed…
"We can take these two mobile suits to where Duo's Gundam is being stored… It will be safe there as well, if you will accept our hospitality," Rashid offered quietly, his stance still impassive, though some sort of sadness had touched his dark eyes. "Oz will surely be looking for this plane…"
Zechs could only nod glumly, still swaying on his feet, admitting that the man was probably right. //And I haven't much choice… I can't even get to the village on my own right now…//
"Hey, Rashid… That big white thing looks like some kind of older model. But some of it would help in finishing up this Gundam, they're so alike—" Abdul added cheerfully, sticking his head back out.
//No! Not my Tallgeese!// "You leave my Tallgeese alone!" Zechs yelled, lunging at the man in the door way of the plane with the lightening speed of his old reflexes.
Trying to, anyway. For one, the doorway he'd fallen out of was a good two feet off the sand, and he only stood at three feet right now.
And Zechs's feet had finally decided to protest his abuse of them by going on strike, taking the rest of his body with it. He stumbled heavily, the world graying around him, his headache suddenly feeling like it was weighing down his head physically. His body felt so weak…
//Traitor,// he thought at himself.
Strong arms caught him in time to keep him from slamming his face into the sand again. "Hey, kid, it's okay—Abdul won't use your white suit for replacement parts, don't worry," Duo's voice hastily assured, though seemingly from a distance. "We'll make sure, don't worry…"
Rashid's deep voice was murmuring something, too, but Miri couldn't catch it. He could only feebly bat at one of Duo's encircling arms, unable to stop the blackness sweeping over him. "My Tallgeese… You promise?" His voice sounded faint, even to him.
A quiet laugh. "Yeah, I promise. And Duo Maxwell may run and hide, but he never tells a lie."
//Well… that's good to know… I guess I'm not the only one with some sense of honor…//
That was his last thought before the darkness finally welcomed him to unconsciousness.
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Duo smiled sadly as he lowered the kid to the ground gently. //He's so light—must be half-starved, too, not just abused. No wonder he's fainted… I'm surprised he got this far. I'm surprised he managed to stand!//
Rashid peered over Duo's shoulder at the boy, making a face. "He'll need a doctor from the village. We'll see to that—and the mobile suits… and the plane's 'disappearance' as well. Can you take him back?"
Deathscythe's pilot nodded firmly. "He's light enough… Poor kid. Can I use one of the Land Rovers?"
"Sure."
As he slid an arm under the boy's legs, to heft the light form in his arms, Duo glanced back up at the tall Maganac.
Rashid chuckled softly, a rolling rumble. "Don't worry. I will make sure Abdul and the others don't chop his mobile suit up."
//Good. Who knows what this kid might do, considering he got this far somehow.// "Yeah, well… I /do/ like to keep my promises, you know… and he looks like he's been through enough for one day."
Rashid nodded grimly, dark eyes narrowing angrily, staring through the pale boy.
Duo, too, looked down at the boy he was lifting in his arms, sympathizing with the tall Arabian.
//Kid, if I come across the guy who hurt you like that, you can bet that good old Death'll be sure to shove the fellow's soul firmly into the Hell where it belongs…//
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Treize Kushrenada rested one hand on the window glass, staring out at the horizon—and beyond it—while trying not to grind his teeth in frustrated anger. Not that anyone who hadn't known him a long time would notice. He was adept at hiding his feelings with the perfect poker-face. All generals had to be. However, loyal Lady Une would have known, by the tension in his shoulders. Zechs would have noticed it, too… But neither of them were here.
//Merry-go-rounds. My best pilot is out there, perhaps barely able to fly his battered up plane and aimed out at the center of empty desert, and these fools are trying to wrap me up in red tape! At least some of my men are on /that/ trail… Zechs… no, Milliardo Peacecraft, for you are now free… I hope you're all right.//
Taking a tighter rein on his impatience, Treize heard the door behind him open, and set a slight frown in place to unsettle the visitor. //I hope you're all right, Milliardo… Because I might join you, out there and free, very shortly. And then we'll both need all the friends and allies we can get!//
Turning, he found himself facing a rather… stiff seeming woman of middle height, with a complexion skewed by nature just enough to set any observer's teeth on edge. Her eyes were narrow, colder than the half- abandoned base in Antarctica, of a grim golden hue. Something about her encouraged cultured people like Treize to cringe in disgust at what the bowels of humanity vomited up. Luckily, Treize managed to retain his poker- face, though his mind reeled in shock behind the safety of that facade.
//Good Lord… No wonder Romefeller hides someone like her out here, in the middle of nowhere…//
Waving politely for her to be seated, Treize decided she must be of some importance here… if she was the one chosen to answer his questions. //So be it… I needn't gaze on her face, after all. I'm not here to find candidates for a beauty pageant!// "Madam, I have a few questions… I take it, as you are here, that you may have some answers for me?"
Her eyes narrowed darkly. They somehow reminded him of a cruel wind deciding to gather its strength before shoving over some poor farmer's home, barn and all. "I am Karina Heldon. My research and that of my colleagues are the primary importance of this base, Mister Kushrenada, so we are eager that you and your men remove yourselves out of our way as soon as possible."
//You want to get rid of me… and fast. I wonder why?// Turning back to the window, he considered the sands stretching out before him in the hot daylight. Most everyone in their right minds would have been napping about now, but he had refused to let them until his answers came. //I know I'm a pest… But I want my answers, and I want them /now/. What the heck did you guys do to Zechs!?!//
"I've learned that one of my men were in the care of this base recently," Treize began quietly, voice deadly calm. "Perhaps his name is familiar… Colonel Zechs Merquise."
Her faint reflection in the glass looked even more disgusted at that name—if that were possible. //Good God, woman, whatever did Zechs do to /you/?// Treize wondered, a bit surprised by that reaction. //He's a good man… or was until /you/ lot ruined him!//
"The name is unfamiliar to me, but then, I haven't read about anyone recently brought to this base. As I said, I do research, not babysitting," she returned coldly.
Frowning firmly at the glass, Treize fought the urge to clench his fists. //You know he was here… And I bet you had something to do with him during his stay. I want to know what you bastards did to him!// "Surely you'd recognize a description of him, then? He /is/ rather hard to miss, especially on a base of this size. Tall, long pale blonde hair, used to wear a silvery mask, if not still? If not you, then I'm /sure/ someone on this base has…"
Miss Heldon made a face at Treize's back. "I suppose I may have seen him about. But he isn't here anymore, then."
"I know… I believe he is the one responsible for the disarray of this base during my arrival." The thought made Treize feel smug. //Zechs got them back… a little, anyway… in his departure. Barney music… I'd never have considered that one!//
"Then you no longer need to be here," came her icy reply.
Turning to face her, Treize dropped a good portion of his façade. "Yes, I do. What did you and those of this base do to him?"
Caught off guard for a moment, Miss Heldon jerked back a bit in surprise. Then her voice dropped into a snarl. "Be too merciful, in /my/ opinion. Why should you care? He's gone, free to return to you…" A cruel smile twisted her mouth slowly as she added, "if he's in any shape to do so… If not, you'll never find him, I expect."
Confused, half-shocked by the scientist, Treize stared at her, mulling over her answer. Anger boiled up inside him, threatening to crack past his control. //How /dare/ she! He was a good man, a human being, damn it, not some bloody lab rat!// "What did you do to him," he demanded, voice deadly.
The scientist smirked, and turned to go. "You can't do anything to me, Mister Kushrenada… Like the rest of this base, I am directly under Duke Dermail's orders… not /yours/. Go find your pretty little songbird that flew the coop. If you're lucky, you might find a feather, if you try hard enough…"
It took everything Treize had not to wring her neck as she left the room.
Slamming his fist against a nearby table in frustrated rage, the young general paced the room a moment, fuming. //So, now, Dermail, you're starting to hide even your projects from me? And replacing soldiers with remote-control toys… I can see the coup coming clearly enough… What was /my/ fate to be, hmmm? Following Zechs's to a hell-hole such as this?//
Slamming his fist against the table once more, he froze sharply, teeth set in a death's grin. //That's IT. I'm taking those still loyal, and still sensible, and we're making a coup of our own. Let's see just who is right: me with my faith in humanity, or you and your mobile dolls…//
His blue eyes strayed to the distant sands out the window once more.
//Just as soon as I find where my old friend has vanished off to…//
Calling for his loyal men, Treize's chilly smile warmed slyly. //The Gundam pilots' friends and allies aren't the only ones good at infiltrating bases. My men should have those surveillance tapes by now. Now we'll see what these mad scientists have been up to behind my back…//
Mischief touched the young general's narrowed blue eyes. "And after that, Duke Dermail be hanged. We'll find Zechs… then show that man and this lot a /real/ war!"
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To be continued…