Mischief Mage: Last chapter. yay! Now i don't have anything to distract me from my school work...
Heero sat down on the polished wooden chair, reaching down to his feet as he did so, hands groping for his box of chess pieces. His hands probed emptiness.
'Heero' Quatre's voice said, 'I only just figured out that both you and Trowa own white chess pieces. I flipped a coin and Trowa won the right to go first. So I put a bit of soot on your pieces to tell them apart… What is that look for? Oh, don't worry, the soot comes off with a wet cloth, I'll do it myself afterwards. So is that okay? No? Well…umm…. we'll just have to get on with the game. Heero, stop looking at me like that…I mean it. Heero, please……please…PLEASE PUT THAT DOWN NOW! DON'T COME ANY CLOS-AAAAH!'
It took five minutes of Trowa and Duo's joint effort to stop Heero from stamping Quatre to the floor with the upended chess table.
Heero sat down on his chair haughtily as Trowa set up the table again. Quatre was still wheezing, clutching his bruised front and glancing at Heero with terrified eyes. Within a few minutes the white and … grey pieces were set. Trowa glanced out the window.
'Looks like a sand storm's coming up'
'Stop stalling'
Trowa dragged his eyes back to the board and left them there. For three minutes. Finally a kindly 'bing' was heard.
As Heero made his move, Trowa's mind wandered, or rather, skipped off track. No matter how fun this trip had been, he desperately needed to get back to the circus. Although he had made a deal with Catherine that if he stopped barbarically assassinating her boyfriends then she would let him see Quatre again, she never said that he couldn't sneak anaphrodisiacs into their dinner…
bing
Once they had returned to the chess game, Trowa's thoughts read like a graduate thesis on the production of zippers
'I could give up my knight/Rasputin and use my bishop to initiate a pin formation…but then I would be leaving a side road to my king/Lucifer guarded only by a pawn/Felix/Bernard's replacement. Besides, he would expect a ploy like that…hmmm…what's that? Ha hah. Heero's trying to use that screw formation on me I shall avoid it. What ho? He's also got that group of pieces to the side, poised to make an attack. Surely I can not escape both. I must guess to see whether both of the formations were intentional on his part. The screw formation! How he is staring at it. Hey, this is the writer, if you read this, then I admire your diligence…or maybe your boredom. Hey…anyway, you might have just accidentally glanced here. In that case, you had better read the rest because….there could be other surprises eh? You don't believe me do you?…oh well…you can't blame a writer for trying. Anyway… He must be concentrating on how to use it! But wait, he could be staring at it without knowing in trying to avoid staring at the other one. But then he could be staring at it in the hope that I would be thinking that he's looking at that one to avoid looking at the other one so that he is actually meaning to use the one that he is focusing on…but that would mean that he knows that the other formation is there! In that case he must know that he could use either one. So which one to foil? They are both of equal danger to me. So what pieces would I lose if I set off the screw…hmmm…my rook/George/Georgiana? That's in a good position to unleash my ultimate attack! But for the other one…I would only lose my other bishop/Cornelius. I haven't used that one much so far…I could do without it. That settles it; I will foil the screw formation and sacrifice my knight/Glorifilia/Phill to the other formation. Here it goes.'
And to end the seemingly endless deliberation that had gone on in his fringed head, Trowa moved his pawn, one pace forwards.
'CRAP!' ,thought Heero, 'he saw through my formation! Now what am I going to do, he must have seen that if I used the pin then I would leave my bishop in the open and subsequently my King. He's crafty. What if I tried to hide my knight in the section of the board that's covered by his fringe…that's half the board…no…he'd see through that…and then he might take it personally…wait a minute! Why do I care? Oh that's right…because if I do, then he'll show the video of me in the Swan lake matinee to Duo. Just as well I dropped it. The ice skating rink is on the other side of town to the ballet school. I can't wait to get back to it after this is over. But I don't miss that dick-head, Colin the Constipated cess-pit. If he tells me one more time that my translation of the destruction of Marimeia's base into figure skating looks like I have a cardboard tube stuck up my….I'm going to put high concentration acid on the blades of my skates and whack him over the head with a chair…Now…where to move…luckily that move of his foiled one of the formations he was planning…etc. etc. etc. etc.'
Quatre could only stare with glazed eyes as these two strategic super powers prodded lumps of wood across the checked board. Being the youngest and the only brother of thirty children with twenty nine sisters at various stages of life…a large number going through puberty at the same time, he had developed a consoling face and ear drums of steel necessary to avoid getting a bloodied nose.
It was a trial when his sisters found their boyfriends cheating on them with other sisters. There had been a rather messy affair when one man had eventually gone out with every one of Quatre's sisters, cheating on them all at the same time and, every now and again, making passes at Quatre himself. The household drama had finally reached a climax when Iria had found the wretched man in the bedroom with five of her sisters. It seemed as though he had seen the Winner family as a chance for some large group activities. To the horror of his sisters, during his period of insanity after the death of his father, Quatre documented the story, had it published under the name of 'The twenty nine daughters of Winner', distributed the books to bookstores through space and raked in the profits. That was the reason why he had avoided going back home to his colony. He was getting sick of finding graters between his bed sheets.
Bing
Quatre glanced up to see Heero prod a rook into a distant empty space before hanging his head in despair.
Meanwhile, Duo's recently regained cognitive functions were being pummelled beneath a new landslide of boredom. He returned to gnawing on his binds.
It wasn't until the distant cloud of sand had almost reached the gate of Quatre's house that the game became vaguely interesting.
Trowa had the advantage with nearly all his pieces forming a solid wall of wood between Heero's king, bishop and few remaining pawns. Trowa would have been smiling smugly if Heero hadn't already been doing it.
'What are you so happy about?' he ventured.
Heero pushed his bishop in position to pass through a gap in the wall which Trowa had missed in his next turn.
'Check.' His whisper rang through the room.
Bing
Trowa simply closed the gap.
Bing
Heero, moved his bishop back to his half of the board, still with the smug grin on his face.
'Check' He said again.
Bing
Trowa stared at his opponent's face. HOW?
Bing
The attention of the room was drawn to a sudden whirring that was coming from the board. All except Heero stared at the smudged bishop in surprise.
Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrr-click! Its top clicked open on a hinge
Shloooooooop-Click
Shlooooooooop-Click
Shloooooooooop-Click
Shlooooooooooop-Click
Duo sat with his bindings in his mouth, eyes wide.
Shloooooooooooooop-click
Shloooooooooooooop-click
Shloooooooooooooop-click
If Quatre's eyes bulged any larger, he would have needed to pick them up off the floor.
Click…
…
whrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Trowa's dinner plate eyes reflected the machine that was charging itself before him. A beam cannon akin to that of Wing Zero's in design and size had sprouted up out of the top of the bishop on a telescopic metal rod like a huge metal tree. The tell-tale flickers of yellow light began to circle around the mouth of the cannon, getting brighter and brighter as the seconds passed. Finally, it was ready.
Trowa gulped.
Uh oh
A pair of blue eyes peered cautiously up over the upturned couch, surveying the damage as the non-disintegrated half of the chess table creaked as it fell over, scattering Heero's remaining pieces across the floor.
Trowa opened is eyes, the eye that was now covered in soot looked like a white marshmallow on a crow's back, meanwhile the other eye, which was not covered in soot was surrounded by the soot-less shape of Trowa's hair which had protected half of his face from needing the services a rough dish cloth. He took a few deep breaths, finding that his chair was now hanging precariously over a minor crater in the floor. He glanced to Heero who was taking it as though 8cm chess pieces vaporised other chess pieces outside his front gate every morning…but then again, that was where he had gotten his idea from…he lived in a weird town.
Heero smirked as he said,
'Check ma-'
'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!'
The explosion caused by the beam cannon had assisted Duo in breaking out of his bindings, which allowed him to spring from ground, cackling maniacally, fling the doors open and leap outside…into the sand storm.
There was a brief moment of silence in the room.
'Perhaps we should go get him?' Quatre asked tentatively.
'Nah, it's just sand, he'll be alright' Heero answered calmly.
'Well I guess that's it, you won the competition Heero' Trowa said graciously.
Heero shrugged, 'you didn't do too bad yourself-'
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
'I thought you said he would be alright!' Quatre cried, having jumped a metre in the air.
'So I overestimated him!' Heero muttered. But then he paled as he thought, he jumped to his feet and ran outside to aid his friend.
'What's his problem?' Quatre asked, turning to Trowa.
'Let's go see'
So the two pilots followed the first two out to the front door.
Heero's mind was racing. That's not an ordinary sandstorm, it's …
He screeched to a halt at the front door, hearing two pairs of shoes protest as they came to a halt behind him.
Trowa and Quatre stared.
Fangirls.
Thousands of them.
Kicking up dust.
'Look! There he is!'
They all looked to see Duo drowning beneath the waves of groping hands and paralysing screams of… of… adoration.
Well this sucks, thought Duo, having given up all resistance after threats to distribute his braid to cloning laboratories across the galaxy.
I worked so hard to get here without them knowing. Hell, I had sixteen different aliases, flew to three different colonies and sixty three countries to throw them off, pretended to get assassinated four times and pretended to get a sex change twelve times. How did they find me dammit?
Heero felt a sudden pang of guilt, but he pushed it away; Duo's jokes about his ballet had stung.
'HEERO, LOOK OUT!'
The pilot looked up to see a rabid fan girl who had just spotted him lunging. He stood like a possum in the headlights gaping, preparing for the approaching hugs and squeals.
But she never made it to him. Only a few inches away from him, she fell to the ground; knocked out…by a DVD case which I will not describe otherwise I will be thrown out for not having the appropriate rating for this story.
The three heads turned to see Wufei standing to the side, clothed, and smirking.
'Wufei! Your alright!' Quatre cried joyfully.
'Yeah. Thanks for setting me up last night. I haven't had that much fun for a while.'
Quatre, Heero and Trowa averted their eyes for a moment, as though blinded by Wufei's shining...adultness
But Quatre, as always, the accommodating and engaging host, asked, 'Which DVDs did you watch?'
'Oh, I didn't watch any.'
'Oh..ok…what about the magazines and the posters?'
'Didn't pay much attention to them. They make good paper men though'
'? What about the hooker?'
'What's a hooker? I didn't hire a fisherman if you must know. I didn't use the phone at all.'
'Do you have any idea what the medicine a gave you was?'
'No.'
'Oh…ok...nevermind then'
Quatre sighed. Although it was something of a relief that Wufei wasn't accustomed with the ways in the world that they had been planning on him becoming accustomed with, it was still sufficiently awkward.
'HEEEEELLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO? I am DROWNING here if it has escaped your notice!'
'Hey, that reminds me, Wufei, how come you could see that fangirl, you couldn't see anything remotely female yesterday. You walked into that sculpture in the hallway three times! And that was a man for goodness' sake!'
'I think that something clicked last night. Being surrounded by women in such a form all night, I think that I subconsciously decided to acknowledge their existence.'
'hmmmm…fascinating'
'ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?'
'Alright, alright, we heard you. We're coming to get you in a minute!'
Quatre waved cheerily at Duo before turning to the others.
'He's screwed. What can we possibly do to help him? We can't hurt these innocent…though insane…girls. They know that we can't, that's how they operate, they immobilise us. We're helpless.'
'What are you talking about?' Wufei asked hotly, 'we don't have to hold back!'
'But we could kill them, or hurt them!
'So?'
'Do you know how much trouble we would be in? Our credit for helping in the war is running short.' Quatre replied, exasperated, 'Heero's in particular' he added glancing at the pilot.
'You're weak, and dumb as well. We're safe! You're rich, you're untouchable, political immunity has been yours since you were born! Duo is innocent, Trowa and I are both seeing therapists and they probably don't have the sanest reports about us, they can't imprison us because we can plead instability of mind and pretend to have rabies if they try to arrest us! And Heero…well, everyone's just too scared of him'
'But still, we'll be hurting innocent people.'
'Innocent? Innocent? Fangirls are a scourge on the world for men! Think of the peace we will gain if we knock out the entire yaoi faction?'
Quatre smiled meekly, 'I'm not sure that I want peace. I've had plenty of it. Perhaps a bit overated. Fine, we'll help Duo, but no more violence than necessary okay guys? Guys?'
There were a number of clicks as Heero, Trowa and Wufei set their guns in place. Heero had pulled two silver pistols from….somewhere; Trowa was roping a long chain of ammunition for his battle rifle over his shoulder; and Wufei was clicking the belt of his flamethrower together.
Quatre sighed, 'I suppose we could all do with some violence huh?', and as he said so, he collected his tranquiliser gun and a number of refills from inside a secret compartment in the pillar by the door.
'Ready?' Heero asked. They nodded, and with that, the four armed gundam pilots leapt into the flurry of fangirls just as Duo's hand disappeared beneath the clouds of sand.
This fight would never replace the war and it was due to end in shorty, what with four violence-starved men appearing, armed and dangerous. In the near future peace will return to Earth. In the near future, Heero will check his cell phone for messages and find his voice mail blocked with pleas from Relena for him to come back and squash her like a bug, a sure sign of her forgiveness. In the near future, Quatre will go into Wufei's room and pick up the mess he made with a two metre long prong with his eyes blindfolded to protect his fragile little mind from the material he had provided his comrade with. In the near future, Wufei will be found sitting contentedly on top of a pile of smoking fangirl carcasses; he will certainly have something to tell his therapist next session. In the near future, Duo will be resuscitated in the medical clinic after a near death from lack of oxygen and severe trauma. Shortly afterwards he will be put out again by Trowa who will shoot him between the eyes with his battle rifle from point blank after finding Catherine amongst the cohorts of fangirls, somehow avoiding hitting Duo's brain. But Trowa did not feel that this was a faliure as, in his opinion, Duo had a slightly thicker skull and a brain perhaps a teensy, weensy bit smaller then everyone elses, so obviously, it was a harder target. So once Duo had been put back on life support, Trowa returned contentedly to save Catherine from Wufei's indiscriminate barbequing.
All in all, life was destined to go on, a bit duller then during the year AC 195, and peace would eventually wreak havoc on their minds again but, for the moment, they decided savour this piece of violence while they could.
Mischief Mage: That was it, the last chapter, hoped you liked it... well you must have because you managed to read all the way down here didn't you? Thanks for reading...reviews make me happy...hint hint
P.S Trowa's strategic plan was deliberately long and dull.
