Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me. It belongs to Bandai and Sunrise and all those other people who are probably millionaires right now. Anything that resembles lines in the actual show is on purpose.
Going Away-Duo
"Do, dee, dum, dee deeā¦" The young teen hummed off key as he braided his long brown hair. From behind, he could easily be mistaken for one of the opposite gender. To the long-nosed scientist who was apparently his caretaker during this boy's association with the Sweepers, he took as much time primping as one.
"Are you finished yet, Dueta?" Professor G sneered impatiently. He folded his arms and leaned back against the doorframe.
"Aw, put a sock in it, mushroom head," Duo shot back. H e tied his braid with a rubber band and admired himself in the mirror. "Gotta impress all those lovely ladies I'm sure this place must have."
The professor snorted. Duo's laid-back attitude always had a way of irritating him, but it had been getting worse since puberty set in. "Remember," he said sternly for about the tenth time that week alone. "You're not just going there for fun. This is a serious mission. Destroy them first. That's your responsibility."
"Yeah, yeah. Relax, old man," Duo said carelessly. "I know what I'm doing. The God of Death will not fail."
Professor G rolled his eyes. If there was one thing this kid had, it was confidence, perhaps a little too much. "Well, Shinigami, you'd best not. And don't forget about this." He tossed him a small black remote, then spun around and slammed the door.
Duo put the remote down on the dresser. "I won't, no way. I can't." He sank down on his heels. Painful images flooded through his head: a demolished church, Sister Helen dying with him to blame. Father Maxwell, Solo, all the children that had died during that plague. But nothing happened to him. He still survived.
Duo sighed. The God of Death is right. I don't think there's anyone I've ever really cared about that hasn't died on me. He clenched his fist. I know you may not think this is right, he said to the ceiling, but it's time to get a little pay back. Duo punched the floor and cried out, not of physical pain, but of the pain and sorrow his cheerful face would always hide.
