Authors Notes: Hello! This is the first story I've ever put up, and the first one I've ever written about Gundam Wing so it might not be the greatest. But I hope you enjoy it anyway. I was sitting, horribly bored, in my word religions class and my teacher was going on and on about the glories of eternal peace. So I started writing, and this just came out of it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, no matter how much I dream and fantasize that I do. If I did, I wouldn't have to amuse myself with writing fanfiction about the characters- I would just make them carry out my every whim on TV. So please, don't sue me. I'm only a 16 year old girl who likes to dream and doesn't have more than counts money in wallet 28 cents to her name.

A Soldiers Soliloquy

Peace; what a fragile state of being. Only a word, only an illusion dreamt up by fools to justify the senseless violence. Our lust for power and blood just runs to high. The rush of adrenaline, the drive to win. There will, of course, be periods of time when the world is a little more clam and the tension between peoples is only a subtle undercurrent but war will always follow. It has to, it is in our nature to fight; be it for dominance, survival, or some other instinct that drives us. It's a cycle; never ending, only pausing for a short while to lure us into a false sense of security before it rears its ugly head once more. It will always come again, and that is why people like me exist.

Soldiers, trained since childhood to be deadly efficient. We are a back up, a 'just in case'. There is nowhere else for us to go, nothing else to live for. All we have is that rush, the temporary feeling of usefulness before the mission is complete and the threat is taken out. Those are the moments were actually 'feel' something beyond the numbness that threatens to consume us. The pain it inflicts upon us is a constant reminder that we are still alive, that we are real people of flesh and blood.

My memories of before this life are all I have left, they are what I cling to in the dark hours of the night when my demons visit me and attempt to drag me down. They keep me sane. Just remembering that I too was once a blind innocent is enough to keep me going. No other should have to endure what I have endured. They shouldn't have to wrestle with the horrors inside of their own heart, shouldn't have to see the carnage of the battlefield or smell the foul stench of blood that the hundreds who have died by their own hands leave behind.

Masks are what I wear each day, a careful configuration of features I use to disguise my real self and the pain I feel inside. I may act carefree, but that's all it is-an act to keep people from seeing the shattered soul within. They all know of course, how could they not? They see what I see, hear what I hear, feel as I feel. They are the only ones who come close to understanding the torture I go through each day, the only ones I can place my trust in. I need to give them that trust, as I sign that I am capable to to go on with life but it takes a great stretch of my will. Its hard to place your trust in someone when you live in a world of deception and betrayal.

I don't want to end up like so many others who came before me. They lose themselves, submit to the demons that lurk in the shadows of our conscience. They no longer see their happy memories and what they once had, only the faces of those whose lives they've taken. The have given up, lost their drive to keep going. They sit all day in the corner of an institution, rocking slowly to dull the painful ache, their eyes dull and glazed over as they are caught up in the whirlwind of bloody remembrances.

I will not end up like them, I will not allow myself to sink that low. I will fight, and I.Will.Win. I refuse to back down; that would mean my pride and determination has been broken and they are basically all I have left. Why don't I just accept my fate? Why not let myself slip into oblivion and forget? I ask myself those questions every hour of everyday, sometimes with the cold steel of my gun pressed into the tender skin of my temple.

The only answer I have is in their eyes. The half dead eyes of my comrades who would fade even further if they were to witness my give in. The sparkling eyes of the innocents whom I protect so vigilantly, I am the only shield between them and the bitterness of the destruction they would behold if I were gone. That is all I can think of that would prevent me from letting go.

Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, I still have a small flickering flame of hope for the future. I can't see it, I can't even explain it, but somehow I know its there waiting to save me from the darkness. However, in this business you can not afford to let a weakness show or you will be terminated. My weakness is my wish to be innocent once again, to be normal and to never have to kill again. I envy those who can show theirs openly, proudly for that is what I wish I could do. I think of them as I look out of the eyes of the window of death, while I destroy those who threaten to destroy them.

My name is Duo Maxwell, Shinigami, the God of Death. I will eliminate those who wish to destroy this illusion of peace in which we live, who seek to smother the hopes and dreams of the innocent. I am their barrier, their shield, their silent protector. I may run and I may hide but I will never tell a lie, and that is my vow to them that I will uphold until my dying breath.

THE END

Well....how was it? I would really appreciate it if you leave a review to tell me what you think of my story, but I understand if you don't.I know it's not that great, or that long but I hope it was good enough anyway. I really wish what I did was ok for you guys, and if I get enough positive feed back I've been thinking of writing another story, probably a Duo/Hilde or an Inuyasha one. I dunno. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Anuri-Chan