Playing Stupid

Chapter 2: Ten Storey Big Boy

By Korogi Nagisa

-------------------------------------

Brief note: Takes place before Treize was killed… so I can have him in the fic. It's more fun to torment two OZ officials than one.

-------------------------------------

The new OZ base on the southern tip of Vancouver Island sat nearly invisible amidst a thick clutch of evergreens in an alpine forest. Construction machinery still peppered the landscape, exposed rocks and felled trees still littering the hills.

Inside, half the offices still contained computers and furniture still in their packing bags and cardboard boxes, only the essential offices and facilities up and running.

And in one of the newly constructed interrogation rooms currently doubling as an experimental brain physics ward, General Treize Khushrenada tapped the hilt of the sword at his side as he watched a white-coated doctor stand back from a young man strapped firmly into a chair, slumped over.

"Did it work?" he asked absently, flipping the tip of the antique sword.

The doctor nodded absently, checking a monitor beside the man in the chair, regarding several sinuous lines monitoring the young man's vitals. "He's in deep REM sleep. It looks like it worked."

Treize allowed a smile and walked to the young man's side, looking to the doctor for permission before he began. "Ensign Gilander," he started. "Report."

The young man stirred, groaning a bit, head still slumped to his chest. "White expanse… two minds… powerful."

"Quatre Rabarba Winner was your target. Were you successful?"

A moment passed before the man spoke again. "North American… long hair in a braid…"

Treize nearly went white, coughing at his surprise. "You… you hit Duo Maxwell!?" He raised a white-gloved hand to rub a sudden headache. "Can you find Winner?"

"Close," the young man identified at Gilander murmured. "Will commandeer at next chance."

Treize couldn't help but shiver. OZ's newest experimental tactic, psychic attacks, were supposed to seize the heart of the Gundams and bring them to their knees; that heart being Quatre Winner. The unassuming pilot would be the perfect mole for acquiring information on how to finally defeat the Gundam pilots.

But with Duo Maxwell being compromised? Treize rubbed his head once more. He hoped this complete screw up wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

And as far as Duo Maxwell's infamous antics were reported to be, a bite in the ass would be the least of his worries.

-------------------------------------

Shinigami swirled and twirled across the milky white scenery like a deranged ballerina, twirling and twirling, his floor length trench coat flaring about him like a black ball gown.

Duo Maxwell sat quietly on the floor as the shadowy figure danced about like a loon. "Damn, what hit me?" Duo touched his head gently.

"I believe it was a 10 storey Big Boy."

"It was some sort of energy weapon, damnit," he winced and touched his head again. "And if I'm suddenly holding a conversation with my own split personality, I'm willing to bet there was some sort of psychic attack built in with that".

The other pouted and stopped his twirling, crossing long arms over his chest. "A Big Boy is funnier than your heard of lemmings."

"I'll have to make it a point to be flattened by an army of pink kangaroos next time."

Shinigami gave himself another swirl before he disappeared in a black mist, materializing before Duo in a rat of shadows that mysteriously defied the laws of reality by existing in the stark white environment. An inquisitive face not unlike his own leaned out of the shadows, coal black eyes winking with mischievousness. "Say, you're not lookin' so hot there."

"Yeah, you try surviving a full-on battle against some strange technology and see how you fare."

"Is that a challenge?"

Duo looked up to the god and frowned a bit, taking a moment before a sly grin split his face. "Say, being a god; what does that entail?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I still have a job to do. And I'm thinking two completely perverse minds are better than one."

"I am immortal, after all."

Duo smiled. "Excellent."

-------------------------------------

Quatre sat quietly on the edge of the hospital bed, sad aquamarine eyes still glancing at all the monitors and tubing that had been hooked up to his friend. This had all been his fault, somehow, it just had to have been his fault, he thought as he ran a hand over Duo's bandaged forehead.

"It's not your fault, Quatre," Irina Winner, Quatre's 22nd sister, smiled as if sensing her little brother's internal struggle. She hummed a cheery tune, more to try to perk up Quatre as she checked the drug levels that were being pumped into Duo's unusually still body. The hyper pilot who normally swung from the ceiling was unnaturally quiet as he lay in a coma.

"I saw the weapon. I saw the attack coming. I FELT the attack coming. There was someone in that blast, someone's mind. The attack was meant for me, I know it, and I should have done something!" With a vexed sound, he drew back from the hospital bed and rubbed an eye.

"Come on," Irina smiled sweetly, laying a hand on her little brother's shoulder and turning him out of the room. "Duo needs his rest."

Ignoring the fact that Duo was doomed to spend the next few weeks of his life 'resting' in a coma, Quatre allowed himself to be led from the ward.

-------------------------------------

Shinigami awoke and cringed, a battered hand reaching up to gingerly touch his forehead. For fucks sake, what did you do?

YOU said it was a 10 storey Big Boy. You tell me.

Har har, the god answered back. Slowly, the horrible bruise on Duo's forehead began to fade, Shinigami stretching and sitting up, taking inventory of his surroundings. Hospitals were a virtual treasure trove of medicines and equipment he could use in his mischievous doings.

He noted with a nod that the IV in his left arm was slowly dripping morphine into his system, explaining the slight feeling of euphoria he could feel fading from Duo's brain. With a flick, the IV was pulled out and what was left of the morphine bag was carefully folded and placed on the bedside table.

And there was the small issue of clothes, as Duo's body appeared to have been stripped and outfitted in an ugly white hospital gown open in the back and tied about the neck. Comical: yes. Entirely useful: no.

Shinigami sprang from the bed in a furl of bed sheets and became a cupboard-raiding, drawer-snooping fiend. Locks were picked in the blink of an eye, syringes, gauze strips and rubber tubing creating a pile on a discarded medical uniform in the middle of the room.

Care to clue me in? Duo asked from their mind, enjoying a front row seat to the unfolding events.

Gathering supplies for the chaos we're soon to start. Who are we going after again? The Institution of the Phobiacs?

Organization of the Zodiac, Duo snorted back.

Meh. Close enough.

Our only problem is convincing everyone else that A – you're Duo Maxwell, and B – you're well enough to pilot a Gundam or take missions. You DO know how to pilot a Gundam, don't you?

Shinigami shrugged and bundled up his booty of blundered hospital supplies. Is it like driving a dump truck?

Oh brother.

Shinigami had just slung his booty over his shoulder when he stood bolt upright, listening intently. He swore he could hear footsteps.

What is it? Duo whispered despite the fact only Shinigami could hear him.

Quiet! Someone's coming!

Dropping his loot bag and hopping across the room, Shinigami flopped back onto the hospital bed and furiously arranged the sheets about his body, laying back and closing his eyes as the curtain pulled back.

Aw crap.

What? WHAT!? Duo probed frantically.

It's Quatre. Confusion crept from Duo. Quatre's the empath, right? Not to mention he has an army of annoying sisters who all seem to work at this hospital.

Ah, I see

Uh…

What?

He's touching me!

Pervert.

No, no! He's touching me!

Pervert.

Fine. I'll settle this myself.

Why do I get the feeling…

-------------------------------------

Quatre smoothed a hand over Duo's forehead and sighed, returning to his silent vigil by the hospital bed. He yawned vaguely, putting the back of his hand to his mouth a moment before looking about the room. "This is my fault," he whispered, hoping the answers to all his troubles would be somewhere in this room.

Answers he did not find. But he did spy a suspicious bundle of hospital gear haphazardly stuffed into a nurse's uniform. He frowned

Shinigami popped open an eye and closed it quickly. The action apparently went unnoticed. So, in a furl of bed sheets, medical tubing and IV bags, Shinigami sat bolt upright in bed, nearly knocking Quatre down with him. "SurPRISE!!" he yelled as if he had just bound out of a cake on the blonde's birthday.

Quatre did what any normal human being would do when faced with the annoyance that could only ooze from Duo Maxwell. He promptly fainted.

Way to go, dolt.

What!? How was I supposed to know he'd go all pansy on me and faint?

This is Quatre.

Good point.

Now what?

Shinigami pondered a moment, volleying a glance between himself, his treasure of plundered supplies, and the passed out billionaire. We steal his clothes and make a break for it!

-------------------------------------

It appeared that Duo Maxwell, braid and all, sauntered down the hospital corridors in a pink shirt, pastel V-neck cardigan and green pleated pants. Having stashed his hospital loot in a ventilation shaft where it wasn't sure to be found, he had snuck through the ward, past security and was intent on sauntering out the front door in his pilfered clothes.

The plan would have worked perfectly, were this not a hospital where every other doctor wasn't one of the innumerable Winner sisters. A chorus of gasps and dropping medical equipment serenaded his cat walk.

"Duo?" Trowa stood slowly from a seemingly random bench, a bit confused as he frowned and asked again. "Duo?"

Shinigami raised a hand. "Yo!"

Trowa approached slowly, beginning to sound like a broken record. "Duo?" He looked the other up and down. "Why are you wearing Quatre's clothes?"

"Ah, about that…"

-------------------------------------

A random Winner sister screamed and promptly fainted at the sight of seeing her little brother butt naked in Duo Maxwell's hospital bed with a finger shoved unceremoniously up his nose.

-------------------------------------

Shinigami grinned like an idiot as a swarm of Winner's checked all vitals from blood pressure to the color of his tongue. As far as medical science could tell, Duo Maxwell seemed to be the picture of perfect health, minus the faint image of a healing bruise on his forehead that had caused his apparently brief bout of being comatose.

"Hey. No hard feelings, right buddy?" Shinigami clapped Quatre on the shoulder hard enough to knock him off balance. The blonde was dressed in a sterile white hospital gown temporarily until one of his sisters could retrieve Duo's clothes and the two could make a switch.

"Y-yeah…" Quatre managed. "No hard feelings." He visibly struggled to regain his composure. "I'm just glad you're just back to your old self."

"You mean 'obnoxious' self," Wu Fei snorted.

"Is that a request?"

A few Winner sisters and most of the Gundam pilots quickly barked 'no!' before their friend could blink.

"Party poopers." Shinigami shrugged before clapped his hands and hopped in place. "So, who's up for pizza?"

Trowa hung his head and smiled. "It's our Duo, alright."

-------------------------------------

Duo had been relieved of his duties until further notice, far to the disgruntlement of the god now in control of his body. Orders kept coming in to the other pilots, but always, Duo was forced to lag behind. Despite the fact that Shinigami argued his good health until he was blue in the face… literally… he was always ordered to stay behind. You just didn't wake up from a coma and order a pizza like nothing had ever happened. It wasn't possible from a medical standpoint. And being flattened by a marauding Mobile Suit touting a high energy pulse riffle wasn't an injury you necessarily slept off.

The latest mission had sent the balance of the pilots deep into OZ territory to destroy a supposedly secret bunker filled with experimental weaponry used primarily for the Mobile Suits. The perfect opportunity to 'permanently borrow' some of OZ's technology and retrofit it to Deathscythe and he was ordered to hold down the fort at the safe house. "It's just not fair," Shinigami snorted to himself.

Then, let's make it fair, Duo answered, busily figuring out how to contort his body into a pretzel in the milky white expanse of their mind. A little redecoration may be in order? I vote we start with Wuffie's room.

"Nah, too obvious."

Heero's room?

"Too risky. I like my limbs where they are."

You mean MY limbs.

"That's what I said."

No, you said… ack, never mind. Duo grew silent a moment before both agreed.

"Quatre."

-------------------------------------

To be continued…

Sorry for the long delay. Holiday season, ya know. As always, R&R!