Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. I do not own anything else that's copyrighted that's mentioned here, or even some stuff that ISN'T copyrighted. I do, however, own nearly every character mentioned here and the plot. And I'm a very possessive owner. :points to fire-breathing dragon sitting behind her:
A/N: For those loyal readers out there, this is still Chaos Theory. I just found a better name and summary for it. And for new readers, well, welcome and I hope you enjoy this! But I will warn you before hand. This is rated M (R) because of the "Adult" Language and Content. Unfortunately, there will be no lemons or limes. Unless of course I change my mind, and then I shall warn you all before that ever happens. :)
"I hate you," he snarled. His father was stunned into silence for a few heartbeats.
"Get out of here," he growled. "GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"
"Fine!" he replied, shouting once more. "I never wanna see you again!"
"GET OUTTA HERE!"
"GO TO HELL!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, slamming the door shut with all his strength. The house seemed to vibrate with the tension and rage. In a few seconds, he was on his motorcycle, speeding away from his father, his family, and his life. He wouldn't stop until he was dangerously low on fuel, and that was at a far away gas station in the middle of the night. He realized that he hadn't taken anything with him in his rage. At the moment, he loathed the idea of calling home to get his things. He didn't care. Let them keep 'em. He didn't need the fuckin' memories anyway. All he needed was a job, his bike, and himself . . .
Lieutenant Bane Marquise blinked his steel blue eyes, burying the memory deeper inside his subconsciousness. He gazed at his translucent reflection in the thick window, haunted by how much he looked like his father. Aside from his platinum black, shoulder length hair, he was a spitting image of his handsome sire. He vaguely, very vaguely, remembered their last words.
He shook his head ever so slightly to rid himself of those thoughts and memories. It was pointless to dwell on the past. His father was dead, along with his mother. He didn't know, exactly, what had happened to his brother after the cataclysm that destroyed the Colony he lived on, or if he even had survived. He didn't truly care, in any case. His family was the past. The Allies' Army was the future. It was all he needed.
Absently, Bane traced his face on the glass with one finger. How many years it had been since he left his home he didn't know. He knew that at least two years had passed, as he had been in the Allies' Army for about two years. For at least two years he had been unable to remember his previous life, having woken in the Allies' Army custody. So why, then, did the memory of the argument come up now? Was it the rumor of the rebels' base? Was it the stress from his occupation? Or was it some unremembered anniversary of an important event from his forgotten past? He didn't know, and could care less. It was the past, and Bane had always had little use for the past.
He tore his steel blue eyes from his reflection, and looked outside to the stars. He had once thought them very beautiful, just as his family had in his sparse memories. He had thought the Colonies would be the place for a better life. "The land of opportunity." Bane smirked at his naivete, his boyish innocence.
To one side of his handsome reflection was the moon. It was big, grey, and resmebled a pockmarked graveyard more than the celestial sphere it did from Earth. Decades, almost a century before the first Colonies were built, the people of Earth built a community on the moon's exposed surface. Like the Colonies, people flocked to the new civilization in hopes of a better life. Like the Colonies, they suffered a rude awakening at just how different and hard life was in space. There were water and food shortages, and medical supplies were limited, at best. It was a hard, cruel lesson in life, but a valuable lesson nonetheless. Life was better on Earth, and no matter how much a machine is fashioned to look, behave, and essentially become the planet, it was still a machine. It still broke down, and sometimes nothing could fix it. Yet, humanity seemed to not get the lesson.
"The story of humanity," Bane muttered to himself, fully aware at how cynical and bitter he sounded. "The grass is greener on the other side . . ."
"Sir, we're docking with the L2 Colony," a young woman named Sarah Brown said with a salute. Bane nodded and waved her away. He sighed, resigning himself to yet another mission on yet another Colony.
She had no name and no future. Her face was filthy from living on the streets and digging through the garbage for food, clothing, and shelter. Her clothing was dirtier than she was, and worn pitifully thin in several places. Her pants were far too big for her tiny frame, and had to be held up with a piece of fraying, bloodstained rope. Her shirt was also exceedingly big, going past her filthy, scarred knees. Blood and dirt stained the shirt, and the original color was a mystery.
The girl existed on the mercy of others, using her youth and innocence to beg for handouts. She had big, ice blue eyes that stared at the people with unusual intensity and fearfulness. Foul, golden blond hair stuck out in greasy clumps. Someone had once chopped it short at one time, but who it was was another mystery. She was covered in filth and sewage, and her stench was foul.
The child had been alone for as long as she could remember, which was not very long as she could not have been more than four years of age. Apathetic people ignored her, and misathropic people usually tried to harm her in some way. It was her unfortunate luck that apathy ran high in the Colony; her skeletal frame could atest that. With the shortages of food, water, and medical supplies, many were reluctant to be responsible for a small child. Already, the hunger pangs were getting weaker and weaker. Her cough was harsh, and sometimes blood would fleck her lips.
"Get the hell outta here, ya filthy little bastard!" screamed a storeowner, kicking in her general direction. "You're driving away my customers!"
She ran as far as she could, to the nearest alley, until she doubled over in a coughing spell that left her breathless. Has she anything in her stomach, it would have landed on the sidewalk. She felt cold, but sweat beaded on her small forehead. Tears fell from her icy blue eyes, but no one heard her cries, and if they did, they didn't care. They never did.
"Stop the tyranny of Earth!" a brave soul cried out from the crowd. "Stop the oppression of the Allies' Army!"
"Colonial freedom!" another yelled, joining the other. The crowd, rapidly growing more restless, picked up the chant.
"Freedom!"
"Freedom!"
"Freedom! Freedom!"
The soldiers continued on, not oblivious to the crowd, but ignoring their angered pleas. Soon, the chant grew into a roar, with few discernable words or phrases. They pressed against the sidewalk, forcing the soldiers to walk in the deterioating street, shouting profanities and insults that were thrust in with other such cries. Surprisingly, there were several youthful voices in the chants, and children ran amongst the adults, shouting obscenities. No one reprimanded them for their foul language. Many of the two dozen soldiers found it perturbing to hear such expletives from such small children. Even the veterans felt for the plight of the Colonists.
"At least they're not throwin' shit at us," muttered one, deftly stepping over a deep pothole.
"That's because they have nothing to throw," Bane replied stolidly. "They use everything, even garbage."
The soldier shook his head. "Poor bastards. They don't got much, and here we are, takin' more away from 'em."
"Gettin' soft on us, son?" the captian, and first in command, asked roughly. "That could almost be considered rebellious thinkin' there."
"No, sir," he said swiftly. "I jus' feel sorry for 'em, that's all."
Bane could almost predict the captain's next words.
"Suck it in, soldier," he ordered quietly, though forcibly. "Ain't no room fer pity fer these people. Fer all you know, they could be the enemy."
"But the children-"
"The kids could be their spies," the captain growled, glaring at the man with his single good eye. "Think abou' it."
The soldier nodded, but said nothing. Bane continued on, ignoring the demands, insults, and death threats from the Colonist crowd. It was what usually happened. He was used to it, so much that it no longer truly bothered him.
The captain ordered them to stop at a crossroads. "Alright. Lieutenant Marquise, you take twelve men and go left, I'll take the rest and go on ahead."
"Yes, sir," Bane nodded succintly. He motioned to a dozen men to follow him, unholstering his gun as he did so. The other soldiers copied his example, movnig cautiously down the now abandoned street. Apparently, the crowd had interest only for the captain and his men.
"Where is everbody?" one of the soldiers asked, the same that had argued with the captain. "It's like a ghost town . . ."
"That's because we're close," Bane replied softly. "Now shut up, and keep watch."
No sooner than he said that, then a gunshot rang out. The soldier's chest exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragments. He crumpled to the ground, already dead. The remaining soldiers sent a responding spray of bullets in the general direction of where the shot had originated.
"Cease fire, you idiots!" Bane snapped. The soldiers stopped, but there tension showed on their pale faces. The leiutnenant knelt by the dead body, rumaging through the pockets for weapons and ammunition. "The rebels will be arriving any minute. We want to be gone by then."
"What about Jackson?" a soldier asked. "We can't just leave him!"
Bane stood, glaring at the soldier. "You wanna drag his bloody corpse all over this Colony?"
"But we can't just leave him," the soldier argued. "I mean, what if the rebels get ahold of his body?"
"We leave him here," Bane ordered coldly and firmly. "He'll slow us down."
"But, Lieutenant-"
"But nothing, private!" snapped Bane. "We're leaving this area. If you want to stay with your buddy until the rebels come, that's your decision." He turned away, pocketing the weapons and ammunition. "Move out!"
One by one, the soldiers followed him, but not out of any feelings of respect, but because he was the only one capable of leading them through the Colony alive.
Dun dun dun DUUNN! Will Bane get his men to safety? Will the nameless girl survive to the end of the next chapter? Will the misuse of the end-of-the-chapter questions ever end?
I know this first chapter's long, but I hope it wasn't too much of a trial to go through. Anyways, tell me what you think! I welcome everything, but don't be surprised if your flames are put out with my sarcasm and humor (more like insanity).