So kill me already.
By Crimson Justice
Orga finally gets fed up with Azrael.
Crack-ish one-shot, written to kill time.
I don't own Gundam SEED or Destiny. If I did, Orga would be one of many characters to have survived, and Destiny as it currently is would not exist – but that's an entirely different fanfic.
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"What was that?" Muruta Azrael said, sounding every bit like a petulant child who wasn't getting to play. Jerkoff.
"That was absolutely pathetic. You three are pathetic, I swear. Two mobile suits. Just. Two. And you clowns couldn't even handle that? You're making me look like an asshole, here!"
He was always like that. When he didn't get his way, he bitched and pissed and moaned like an impotent jerk for hours...which, all things considered, ain't too far from what he is. That stupid-looking powder-blue suit, with its ludicrous wine-red shirt and pastel-pink necktie, always made Azrael look like a complete gaylord.
Kinda funny that such a pussy would share his name with an Angel of Death...We're the Death Angels, around here. Me, Shani, even that psycho toe-rag Clotho with his stupid videogame fixation.
My name, by the way, is Orga Sabnak...Not sure what I did in life before about three months ago, when I first started working with Shani the Angst-Ridden Sociopath, and Clotho the Psycho Game-Nerd...Oh yeah, and the arrogant asshole in the blue suit. I sorta seem to remember livin' with a whole buncha other folks, but my memory other than that's a blank. Guess they didn't need us to remember.
"So? It's the truth, isn't it?" I finally blurted out. "You are an asshole"
-"What did you say, you little punk?" He glared at me...the fact that I had about four inches over this guy didn't seem to make a difference to him. Anyway, I was lying down, he was standing. "I'm about this close to pulling the plug on you three if you don't start to show some more satisfying results. So you'd better watch it."
-"Director Azrael..." Captain Badgiruel interrupted. Now her, I like.
Captain Natarle Badgiruel. Her, I really like. She's this no-nonsense military-type, she looks at you and you freeze. But she's like us - she's good at what she does. What she does is command ships. What we - Shani, Clotho, and me - do basically boils down to killing shit. And what Azrael does is bitch and piss and moan like the impotent gaylord he is.
And she's really hot, which helps too. Black hair, purple eyes – nice figure.
Pity Azrael's got us by the balls with this Gamma Glipheptin shit we have to take - he's the one who's got the stuff, and going without is supremely fucking painful. You have no idea how painful it is. Like stabbing yourself in the brain. Multiple times. Or tearing out your own lungs with something blunt. Like a fork.
He's still bitching...Not sure what he's on about, but the words "Gamma Glipheptin", "results", and "disappointed" come up. Other than that, he's like background noise.
"So if we're so useless, why don't you just kill us already?" Okay, now the look on his face right now is priceless. Like a goldfish. His mouth is just wide open, he's got a look on his face like somebody slapped him.
"You useless little bastard. Another comment like that, and I will kill you myself. I guess we'd have to find new pilots for the Calamity, Raider and Forbidden, but if they're better than you lot, it'll be an improvement."
And he continues rambling. Now I'm just a tad pissed, because now he's talkin' shit about my machine. The GAT-X131 Calamity. Sweetest mobile suit out there, let me tell you. Except for the damn battery always runnin' out.
But anyway, Azrael's still babbling, and I just keep reading my book - It's an old book by some guy named Victor Hugo - set in Paris, like, in the Middle Ages or something...The cover's gone, so I don't know the title. It's about this one-eyed deaf hunchback with a bad leg who lives in a church bell-tower, falls for this smokin' hot gypsy. There's this dirty old preacher in there too, kinda reminds me of Azrael, but French. Kinda cool.
He's still rambling on and on, and I'm finished with my chapter. So I slide in my bookmark, and I finally stand up, not even looking at Azrael.
"I certainly hope you plan on improving your combat performance, or else..."
BAM. I punch him in the face. Don't even let him finish bitching, this time.
Then I lie right back down, open up my book, and keep right on reading.
"So kill me already, since you're so disappointed. If you have the balls to do it."
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The book, of course, is "Notre Dame de Paris", known to some as "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". I don't own that either.