Disclaimer: Do you know how hard it is to be really unique with these things? It's a bugger, let me tell you. Yeah, so I don't own any of it, except the sad excuse for a plot. Sorry for the cop-out!

Author's Note: Yep, I'm still here. You'd think I'd have been whacked by some irate fanfiction reader by now, wouldn't you? Oh hello, big person with gun, pinstripe suit, and noticeable absence of neck! How are you? I'm...fine, thank you very... NO! NO!!!!! Pleaseeeeaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhh!

'Eh, youse guys. Dis story's now de official property of da fuckin' Don, and 'ee don' like deese pansy singuhs. So fogeddabouddit, capish?

AHEM. Pardon the interruption. The Management hereby apologizes for any and all instances that may or may not appear in this fic, its associated disclaimers and author's notes, of violence, harsh language, or incredibly bad accents that may prove offensive to the eyes of some readers. The Management hereby denies any and all responsibility for any effects that continued exposure to these elements of fanfiction may cause. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN DISCREATION....((er, discretion, but it makes an interesting typo, doesn't it...?))

Chapter 2: Larger than Life.

The four pilots assembled nervously in the living room of their current apartment, waiting for Heero to emerge from his room. The past couple of days had been extraordianarily tense, everyone on edge waiting for the recalcitrant Gundam Pilot to make an appearance.

No one had seen or heard him leave his room, but the terse notes had been found on all of the pilot's bedroom doors.

"Meeting. Re: Mission. Tomorrow. 0900 hrs."

Well, that was Heero for you.. always sweet, always lighthearted and pleasant and able to write in complete sentences....

Duo stared at his wristwatch, coutnign down the seconds along with the glowing green display. "9:00 in... 3.. 2.. 1...!"

Along with a chorus of irritating mechanical beeps, Heero emerged from his room, looked disheveled and more homicidal than usual.

"How does he do that?" Duo demanded, sotto voce. He knew Heero had no clocks in his room, there was no time display set on his laptop -- an unusual and rather disturbing omission, smug in its presence. Hell, he had even examined the splinters on the wooden windowsill to ensure there wasn't any covert sundial-ing going on.

Despite the American's increasing agaitation on the subject, no one else really gave a damn. It was just a part of Heero's personna.... 'Omae wo kurosu', getting blown up, and being frekishly punctual.

"We need to talk," Heero announced grimly as he leaned against the wall just inside the door. "This mission is something unlike anything we've ever done before." he paused, letting the implications sink in.

"Well, there are a LOT of things we've never done before on a mission, such as investigating bars, or searching for Oz soldiers at strip clubs...?" Duo trailed off hopefully.

He was universally ignored.

"This is a completely unprecedented opportunity, one that could cripple Oz indefinitely."

Wufei shrugged, unimpressed. "So what's the master plan to get us into the Headquarters building?"

Heero scowled darkly, annoyed that Wufei had somehow read his mind and figured out their ultimate goal. He was supposed to be in charge of the mission, not Wufei. HE was.

Heero didn't like it when his power was usurped.

"Just get on with it Yuy, stop pouting. We've been in this apartment for three weeks now. We have a view overlooking the Oz compound. We take the visitor's guided tour every Friday."

"They are really desperate for funding." Duo agreed.

"That lazer show is pretty damn pathetic though." Trowa continued.

Heero coughed importantly, trying to restore the meeting to its original focus: HIM. "What Dr. J wants us to do is sneak into the base under a disguise. Something our enemies would never expet from us."

"No way!" Duo gasped breathlessly. "They're having an anime convention?!"

The other pilots exchanged looks, and shuddered. Friends did not let friends do anime.

"Actually, that's two weeks from now." Heero replied, checking his weekly Oz bulletin. "But next week, they're having a Backstreet Boys band revival... thing."

Utter silence.

"You mean to say that the doctors want us to dress up... and pretend to be a teen-idol boy band?" Wufei demanded slowly, his voice shaking.

"Yes."

Quietly, without looking at any of his friends, Wufei rose from the couch and left the room. The pilots flinched, waiting to hear the door slam, but all there was was a very firm 'click'. A sound that clearly stated to the soundless boys "YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS!", Wufei-style.

"I think he's really upset, Heero," Quatre began tremulously. "Do you think this is such a good idea?"

"It's our only way in," Heero stated blandly, "and we'll need the five of us to pull it off. Wufei will just have to deal with it, like the rest of us."

"This is Wufei we're talking about." Trowa reminded the Japanese pilot grimly. "Even if he was guaranteed the chance to shoot Treize in the head at the end of it, he wouldn't do it."

Alone in his room, Wufei paused, pressing his ear against the rough, unpainted wood of his door, listening for footsteps in the hallway. When none were forthcoming, the Chinese pilot moved stealthily over to his closet, pushing aside the rows of blue shirts and white pants, and tugging down the poster of Nataku.

Then he smiled hugely up at his shrine, picture after picture dedicated to his idol.

"Thank you A.J., thank you!" he breathed ecstatically, "I always knew you'd come through for me!"

He frowned, poking at a shoebox stuffed in the corner. "Hmm... I wonder if Yuy has all the Cds...?" (He, of course, had collected all the albums religiously, but some of them were just too precious to let Yuy and the idiot American touch.)

"So..." Duo was beginning to smirk, a sure sign that things were about to get vulgar, profane, or loaded with cheap innuendo. Or all three. "We just walk in there and sing for a bunch of fangirls, is that it? No problem!"

With that arrogant proclamation, he jumped up onto the low coffee table, pretending to hold a mike in his clenched right hand, waggling his hips outrageously as he sang.

"I'm doing this tonight!
Your Mobile Suit's can't fight,
And you don't have the right to battle, come on,
For you are just too weak,
And if Death's what you seek,
Then fight Shinigami,
Hey Leos come on!"

"What's he doing...?" Quatre whispered...

"I know my suit can't take much more, and it ain't no lie!
Omae wo kurosu anyways,
Aries die die DIE!"

"Not too subtle, Duo," Trowa drawled sarcastically.

"That's N'Sync, anyways."

All heads snapped around, the room becoming deathly quiet once more as they stared at the speaker.

Heero raised one cynical eyebrow. "What?"

The other three exchanged glances, with much going on in the way of knowing nods and wiggling eyebrows.

"Ok. Mr. Perfect-Soldier and know-it-all, " Duo interrupted Quatre's and Trowa's silent conversation of facial contortion, "see if I ever put you in one of my songs ever again!" He paused for a moment, considering.

"I've been fighitng hard with people screaming below, all right!" he crooned into his air-mike,

"But piloting a Gundam isn't easy you know, all right!
All of my time's spent, on Mission M....
All you Oz troops, now you see, now you see,
I am the Grim Reaper, I'm Shinigami!"

"You know, once he gets started, he's not half bad..." Trowa noted with a smile. Heero grunted in response.

"Blowing up your bases, then let Heero do the rest,
For I am the god of Death!"

"Like I'd clean up after your messes, Duo," Heero snorted, tugging the dancing bishie down off the coffee table before he hurt himself. Or anybody else.

Duo giggled madly, still humming the tune of his new song, creating new verses as he went along. Not any that he could sing out loud, of course, not without Heero putting a couple of bullets through his brain, but it was still entertaining.

"This is going to be FUN!" he exclaimed happily.

"Duo," Quatre cautioned his freind mildly, "You realize you're going to have to sing the proper lyrics while we're on stage."

Duo waved one ahnd nonchalantly. "Yeah, ok, whatever."

"Winner's right, Maxwell. I won't let you corrupt those lyrics. That would be an Injustice."

Duo turned quickly at the sound of Wufei's voice.

His jaw dropped.

He began laughing hysterically.

END CHAPTER!

Ooh.. what is BSB-crazed Wu doing that would make Maxwell laugh? Not that that's exactly difficult to do, but that's beside the point. Hope you're enjoying the fic! I may actually FINISH this one! Wouldn't that be a novelty?!

Xtine the Pirate