I can't be killed with conventional weaponry,
Now you're trying with emotional surgery,
I hear you call with a sense of emergency,
Everyone dies but me!
... I'm sorry...
Duo found himself in the cockpit again, looking out at the carrier's slowly closing hatch. The wind howled, the sounds of the battle below still echoing. The Maguanacs were dying for them, marching to their deaths to the rhythm of explosions and gunfire.
He didn't want to move, much less leave Deathscythe. Not even the bouquet of pale lilies he'd been given and carried on his lap could brighten his mood. His new acquaintance, the Quatre Raberba Winner himself, would want to chat some more and he probably owed him that much. He would have been up shit's creek without a paddle in the desert alone without the Magunacs. They'd given him a place to stay, they'd given him repairs for Deathscythe, and now they were giving him this evac. That they were doing it primarily for Quatre and he just happened to be at the right place at the right time didn't mean he wasn't grateful.
He'd have to get up and try to be hospitable soon, leave Deathscythe's familiar embrace and put on the jester mask again, but he felt at the end of his ability to carry on conversation, much less clown around and act as though there wasn't another piece of him torn out and leaving a gaping hole in his chest.
The God of Death was usually more patient than this. It usually took years for the reaper to show up and take people away from him like the jealous bastard he was. He was getting faster and faster, waiting less and less time to claim his due.
Though suicide? That was a new one.
The good days couldn't last forever. They were here to cause chaos and die, and death came knocking. It felt like no time at all before he got called down to the front desk to pick up another "parental" letter. This time, it was much longer than the last. Experimental Taurus suits were being moved for testing, either heading towards Turkey or Siberia. The Middle East route was by land, while the Siberian route was by air. He couldn't be in two places at once, G left the choice of which to go for to him.
Lucky him, huh.
His first thought was to go with Heero. Swoop in together. He could cause all sorts of chaos and line up a perfect shot for Wing. He could. It would work, too. But Deathscythe needed to be up in a target's face to make a good dent in it. He could take out planes, sure, but a train would be a far easier target. It was slower moving, it had a set path it had to stick to, and the train's route meant it would be transported at night, right when it was ideal for him to get in and out quick.
Why a land and an air route? It didn't sit well with him. One must be a decoy. But which one?
If he and Heero split up, they could strike both. Then it wouldn't matter if one was a decoy or not, one or the other of them would get the job done. He had to figure the others would show up too, they'd seemingly all gotten similar intel whenever the target was something really important, but there was no real way of knowing. For all they knew, those other three were dead in a ditch somewhere. He doubted it, OZ would have loved to have plaster news like that all over the feeds, but there was no way of knowing for sure. All they could rely on out here was each other, and here he was having to consider going back out there solo.
... At times like these, he got why Heero tried his damndest to not get attached to anyone or anything. They were barely here for a month and he already didn't want to leave. Not the place, though it was nice while it lasted. No, he could handle roughing it again. What he didn't want Heero going out where he couldn't watch his back for him. He was a damn good pilot and all, but he was reckless as all hell in ways Duo didn't like. Yeah, Wing could take a beating and so could Heero, he'd seen Heero run on a broken leg and snap the bone back in like it was a normal day's work. Didn't mean he liked the idea of either Wing or Heero biting it.
He was being ridiculous, obviously. They were sent down to this planet to die. As long as they caused chaos, brought Hell to Earth, who cared what happened to them. He shouldn't care. He really, really shouldn't care that Heero could die. He couldn't be distracted. The second he got distracted it was his neck facing the reaper's scythe on the battlefield rather than him holding it.
But god, looking at Heero, even with the harsh blue glow of a computer screen casting odd shadows on his face, how was he supposed to not get distracted? If the Holy Ghost itself came down and told him Heero'd been made to drive him crazy he would have believed it. His hair, his lips, that sharp jawline. His eyes, looking almost cobalt blue with the added light on them instead of their usual mix of stormy grey.
It was in his head to screw talking about the mission, to go over there and straddle him and see what the night brought them. They could talk after, or even make it a game to see who could get the most words out before they snapped. Hell, he thought he would, have one last dance for the road. But the moment he pushed the door further open Heero flinched and spun around. "Who's there?!"
It was instinct; Duo's eyes snapped to the screen. He saw an old man with long hair. Goggles. An appendage in front of him... A claw? He only got a second to commit the image to memory before Heero minimized the screen and gave him a glare he hadn't seen now in weeks, dark and angry.
Well, that sobered him up real quick. He wasn't trying to intrude. Still, who was that guy? His handler..?
He needed something to say. So back to the mission it was. "... I've come to say goodbye. I've got a bad feeling about this one."
Recognizing him, Heero's glare melted into only annoyance rather than the death stare. He didn't bring the video feed back up (whoever that was on the other end of the line would probably have hung up anyway), but he did turn around further, giving him his undivided attention.
So he'd been thinking about it too, huh. Well then, might as well get right to it. Duo leaned against the doorframe to ground his thoughts as he spoke. "OZ's transport plan is good. From what I can gather they're gonna be takin' two routes; one by air, and one by land."
Next was the hard part, but he was sure Heero had come to the same conclusion he had. "Heero, could you take the air route? I'll fight them on the ground." He turned away for a moment. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve and needed to gather himself. He didn't want Heero to see him being weak. "... We'll lose unless we have our own plan, this time."
Heero was oddly quiet. Maybe he was thinking, or maybe he agreed but something was on his mind. After a good moment of silence without so much of a grunt in acknowledgement Duo turned back around, facing him in the doorway again. He was still in the desk chair, still just watching, but when he'd been annoyed before now Heero had one of those difficult to figure out expressions again, just staring without a word.
"... You know somethin' I don't, bud?"
"No. However... I agree with you."
"With what part?"
"I have a bad feeling about this mission. Something doesn't feel right."
Duo went into the room and closed the door behind him, as quiet as could be. He sat down on the edge of the small bed and looked Heero in the eyes. "So what do we do? Abort?"
Heero would never go for that, he knew it before he said it. But he wanted it in the air. Predictably, Heero immediately shook his head. "No. I can't do that."
He could, in theory. But if he did, G would want to know why, and a gut feeling wasn't the kind of firm evidence that would make a scientist trust he'd done the right thing. But Duo smelled a rat, and he didn't like the idea of waltzing into a trap he could almost see ready to snap. Not alone. "Then what, buddy? You think we should go together, you and me? Pick a route? We can both go air, but that ain't 'Scythe's strongest playing field."
Heero frowned, but the way he looked away was a tell Duo'd learned in the past few weeks; Heero wasn't frustrated with him, but with the situation they found themselves in. "No. You're right about our strengths."
"Talk to me, Heero. Something's on your mind."
That frown grew even deeper, and Heero didn't look at him or speak up. Man. Alright. One last try. Duo reached out, taking Heero's hand off of where it was resting on the desk chair and rubbed his thumb against his skin. If his friend really didn't wanna talk nothing short of torture would likely get whatever he had on his mind outta him (and even then...) but physical touch had a way of getting Heero to open up. Heero didn't even look down as his hand was taken. He must be getting used to it. "You can talk to me, buddy." He chuckled, looking down from Heero's face to their joined hands. "... Who knows when I'm gonna see you again, you know?"
That immediately got a reaction. "Don't-" Heero's hand jerked back a bit, and Duo looked up at him, but he relaxed it again immediately after, returning it to Duo's hold. "Don't say things like that."
Huh. He hadn't thought Heero was superstitious. Heero was right, talking like one of them was gonna kick the bucket was a total jinx. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking." He tried to frame it less harshly, tried his best to put on a smile. "But it's true, I dunno when we'll be able to meet up. Or where." They weren't coming back here, after all. Heero's mission was taking him north and he was going east. Who knew when they'd be at the same place at the same time. Probably during another big mission, where either one of them could die.
Don't. Don't even think of it. Thinking of it summoned it. The God of Death knew when he cared and knew how and when to hurt him most. He had to stop. For him it was beyond superstition, it was fact. He had to scratch and scrape for every little bit of luck, much less a miracle from above. But the God of Death? That guy found him over and over. He was cursed from birth, or from when he was young at least, and the best way to put it to use was to be where evil people needed reaping.
"Duo."
His hands weren't shaking. Him? Nah. Not his shoulders, either. He had to take a breath. Yeah, take a breath, and take Heero's hand up between his own and kiss it to distract himself. Goddamnit. So much for gathering himself before. He was being an idiot and he knew it. But it was always when he had to go. It was always, always when he had to stop watching the people he cared about's backs that those people went and died.
The obvious answer was to not care. And he was too late for that train. Hell, he was the one who'd derailed it. This was all on him. He should have known better. The worst part was he didn't even regret it. He knew better but he was here anyways, kissing and winding his fingers between Heero's in case he never got to feel them again. It was good. It was good while it lasted.
Your weakness is attachment, Maxwell. G, hypocritical scummy bastard that he was, was still right. He'd blown him off when he said it but it was true, always had been. His name was Duo for a reason.
"Duo, stop."
Thank god he wasn't crying, this was embarrassing enough. Heero must think he was a total soft idiot, shaking over nothing. He made himself look up and face the other pilot, who was looking right at him with some measure of... Concern? Worry? Nah, couldn't be.
"Breathe."
Duh. He already knew that. He'd been trying to do that. Duo squeezed Heero's fingers once before letting his hand go, sitting up straight and taking a slow breath in and out. Heero spun the chair around, fully facing him now. He didn't see the stare, but he felt it, and Heero seemed determined to stare at him until he finally looked into his eyes.
"I'm fine. I'm good." He managed to not tear up, not get his face hot and blotchy with the start of them either. Wasn't that swell. It was still more than he'd wanted to show off, here in this stupid out of the way single room counting down the hours before they both left to different parts of the world. Mr. Stoic here was still not letting up on the stare, but rather than flattering it felt dangerous now. He felt exposed and not in a fun way, like being sized up by some kind of predator. "... Heh," he tried to laugh it off, "Just memories. Got reminded of some bad times. I'm good."
Heero didn't believe him; it was obvious in the way he frowned. But he didn't challenge the claim, at least not verbally. Instead, he got up from his chair and shoved it back towards the desk, then in no more than a step he was on him, crashing their lips together. Duo was surprised at first, but got his wits back quick and kissed back, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him close. It was Heero who broke it first, but he kept close enough to whisper against his lips.
"Don't speak. Whatever you're thinking about, stop. Focus."
Focus on him? Easy. Duo grinned to hear it. Not talking, on the other hand... "... Can I say one thing?"
Heero sighed, exasperated. "What?"
"The door's open." He tilted his chin towards it to get his point across. Not just open, but wide open. Anyone who walked by risked getting a hell of a show if this was going where he thought it was and he wasn't one for that kind of party. Heero pulled away and looked at it, frowning. It was hard to tell (they kept doing this when there was barely any light, talk about wasted potential) but he was pretty sure Heero's ears were rosy with a blush as he got up and closed the door, surprisingly slow and careful. Then he was back on him and Duo didn't care anymore, he got met with fire and had to match it.
It was rushed, hasty, all lips and teeth and tongue once he got his mouth open. What Heero didn't have experience with he made up for with raw energy and enthusiasm that made him shudder hard. Heero got a hand on the back of his neck, right under his braid, and kept him there with it. He went for Heero's hair too, it felt good in his fingers. They kissed until it got too sloppy and Duo's mouth started to get sore, then he pulled away, dipping down to Heero's neck. At first Heero tilted his head down, but he tugged on his dark hair and the other pilot got what he was trying to do, shivering in turn and baring his neck for him.
He bit just under Heero's jaw, then sucked on the spot, pressuring it with his tongue and tasting the salt there. He was being rough on purpose; he wanted to mark him up, give him something to remember him by. Something that would last a while and not just be a hazy memory. Again and again, just careful enough to not draw blood. Heero groaned, his breath was heavy but he wasn't nearly as loud as when they'd been alone; neither of them were. They still had enough awareness to keep it down, as tempting as it was to stop caring. Heero finally shoved him down against the mattress, and Duo briefly wondered if he'd crossed the line of not 'attracting attention', but that worry disappeared the moment Heero looked down at him, right in the eyes, and sat up, loosening the school uniform's green tie then quickly unbuttoning his shirt. He sure wasn't complaining right now.
Neither of them said anything, but Duo followed his lead, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. He barely got them down and off his legs before Heero had done the same much quicker and was back on him, holding him down with the weight of his body and grinding against him. The other pilot had only gotten his white shirt unbuttoned, not bothering to take it off the whole way. It looked good on him, and that Mr. Calm and Composed was in such a rush to have him that he couldn't even shrug it off his shoulders sent a sharp rush up Duo's body. He ground back, hissing in pleasure when Heero managed to get his arm between them and grab hold of both their dicks.
There was barely enough room for both of them on the single bed shoved in the corner and the stupid thing squeaked and creaked with what felt like the slightest pressure. They could get caught any second here but neither of them stopped. They weren't gonna get another opportunity; they had to make this one count no matter how inconvenient.
There was a sharp thrill in the danger of risking getting caught Duo didn't want to think about. He wanted to flip Heero, get him on his back and go to town on him without a care, but there wasn't the space without slamming him into the wall and no way that wouldn't draw someone's attention. Besides, Heero would have had to let him do it, and that was far from guaranteed. The other pilot had the advantage and wasn't letting up with his kissing (more like sucking on his lip and nipping now) or his hand, stroking them off together rough and fast. All Duo could do was hold on and kiss back, keeping his grip on Heero's hair and balling his other fist in his shirt.
He felt the pressure build, and rather than try to prolong it he let it take him. It was quick but it was honest; he didn't care to play tough and hold out. He came and it hit him like a freight train. He could swear the world went white. He heard himself moan, the sound muffled against Heero's lips.
Heero kept going, milking him through it until he was twisting under him, where the hell had he learned that god it was so strong, he wasn't letting up, Duo couldn't help but squirm with the pleasure just on the edge of pain, dipping closer and closer to the latter with every stroke. It was too much, please-
"Heero-"
The other pilot groaned; his whispered plea did it, Heero finally let go of his cock, harshly panting as he spilled too.
Only the sound of their breath filled the air for a good long while. Duo lay back, feeling more like a limp noodle than a flesh and blood human at the moment. His head was all warm blank static. What was thinking after something like that? There was barely space for Heero to squeeze beside him, but somewhere in his head he noticed Heero managed to find a way, lying sideways and fitting himself against the wall. Heero draped an arm over him and Duo made the herculean effort of getting his noodly arm just under Heero's neck for him to lean on. It wasn't the most comfortable, but Heero deserved at least that much.
There was nothing to say, and Duo didn't say it. He should get up. He should clean off, he must be a mess after that. And he would, but not yet. Not yet. He was enjoying the moment, god was it dangerous to enjoy this but he didn't feel like he had much of a choice at this point. Heero must like it too, if he was willingly wedging himself half against the wall and half on top of him despite the mess.
Man, this place was gonna reek if they didn't open a window. It already smelled like sex, the mix of sweat and musk filling the warm air. The thought made Duo chuckle, but he still didn't say anything. Surprisingly, it was finally Heero who broke the silence.
"We should strip the sheets."
"Nah. Why?"
"They're a mess."
"So what?"
"They'll know what we did here."
"And? They won't know it was us who did it. And even if they find out, who cares? We ain't comin' back here."
"It's evidence."
"Pfft. Of what?" Teenagers had sex all the time. No way this would be the first time someone messed up the sheets. Probably not even the first time on these sheets. Heero really had no idea what normal looked like. Or maybe Heero was concerned about something else? "I got bad news, buddy, if you're worried about OZ getting your DNA they probably already have it. You were in an Alliance hospital overnight, remember? They'll have gotten your blood to HQ unless they were beyond stupid. Even if they didn't take any you were leavin' blood everywhere back there."
He could just feel the frown on Heero's face, but his fellow pilot didn't have anything to say to that but a soft, contemplative grunt. He hadn't thought of that, huh. Well, he'd had other things on his mind, he supposed. Enough that he almost hadn't opened his chute. Jeez. The memory still made Duo shiver. He'd thought he was going to witness his only possible friend on this Earth turn to mincemeat in real time that day. Heero was crazy enough to stand afterwards, even with a mangled leg and his arms and back shredded from rolling down the jagged cliff edge. He'd been bloody and battered but he'd still stood up and refused to look weak. Though, now that he looked back on it, Heero was probably hurting worse than he'd let on; he'd let Duo do most of the walking, after all, and had to stick his damn bone back into place.
Heh. Look at them now.
The reality was starting to set back in around him, the threat of death coming at them both. But Duo forced it away for the time being, finding the energy to do what Heero told him and stop thinking about it. He closed his eyes, trying to relax and think about nothing.
... It was easier to do back on the street. Nowadays it felt harder to blank out and run on autopilot. With the luxuries of getting consistent food and sleep for years now, his mind always had the excess energy to wander over to some thought or other, and right now it was on Heero. At least he was a good-looking distraction. It was precarious, he hung more over the bed's edge than on it at one point, but he twisted around to lie on his side, face to face with the other pilot. If he was gonna willingly get distracted, it would be easier while actually looking at the guy on his mind.
Heero's dark hair was a mess (and Duo took some satisfaction in it being his fault), his button-up shirt still open and now uncharacteristically crushed with obvious lines instead of carefully ironed. Duo's eyes wandered to the other pilot's neck and the corners of his mouth twitched in a chuckle; there were already some faint discoloration there. He'd left hickeys on him alright. Good. When he noticed he had them, when they really bruised, maybe Heero would think back on tonight.
He shouldn't have been surprised Heero was looking at him, he was the master of staring, but it still managed to hit him hard like a figurative bag of bricks when he made eye contact. There was only the faint light outside and the computer's teal screensaver lighting up the room now that the door was closed, but he could still make out Heero's stormy blue gaze boring into his, his thoughts as difficult to make out as ever. Honestly, it wasn't as laser-focused as he was used to. Heero kinda looked... Lost.
Was Heero trying to distract himself too? Was he pushing away worries he didn't want to let himself feel? He always seemed to have it together, but maybe he was just a lot better at hiding it. The thought hit him in ways Duo really didn't want to think about when he was about to leave in the morning. Don't look at me like that, buddy. He didn't know what to do with a look like that, not coming from Heero of all people. He barely had his own shit together. How was he supposed to help Heero from halfway across the globe?
He couldn't stand that look anymore, it was burning him up inside, but there wasn't much of a way out but to get off the bed and pull away completely and doing that wasn't just running off and admitting defeat, but just felt like the wrong move. Funny, he was almost getting the impression this was some sorta test... But of what? And why?
Duo softly sighed out his nose, seeing only one way he could save face. It stupidly made his stomach buzz, but after chewing on his lip for a moment he went in and kissed Heero, closing his eyes.
It was careful, gentle, which made him chuckle inwardly when he thought about it. It was just how the mood felt. He could have made it rougher and tried for another round, but he wasn't trying to start anything more up. He was just venting how he felt in the moment and as a bonus, he could stop Heero staring at him like he was trying to look into his very soul.
It was shorter than the last few kisses they'd shared, and when Duo pulled away he took the opportunity to sit up, too, stretching out with his hands over his head. "Mm-mm. Gotta get cleaned up. Your fault, by the way." He groaned when he looked down and confirmed it. Unlike Heero, who'd gotten his shirt unbuttoned, Duo had barely managed to get the bottom two buttons open and it had cost him. "Oh come on..!" Would he have time to throw his shirt in the wash? No way, not without getting caught past curfew. "I can't believe this. One of my favorite shirts, too." He'd have to sneak in the bathroom and handwash it. No way he was heading into combat with his shirt covered in some of the most obvious stains known to man. Blood, sweat? Sure, whatever. Walking around with cumstains was another level of gross.
As he got up, unbuttoning his shirt and collar to take them off, he felt Heero watching him again. He got the sense that the other pilot had something to say, but in typical Heero fashion he ended up saying nothing, and when he kept saying nothing while Duo got his pants back on Duo shrugged to himself and went for the door. It looked like they'd somehow managed to avoid getting caught, no one was waiting around in the halls.
"Coast's clear, buddy. See ya back at the room, yeah?"
"Mm."
By the time Heero returned to the room, he'd washed off his shirt and was on the edge of falling asleep. Heero looked his way, but didn't say anything, so Duo closed his eyes and drifted back off. He wanted to be well-rested before his mission.
They didn't talk again. By the time he was awake, even though he got up at the crack of dawn, Heero was already gone with not so much as a note. He'd packed up neatly, even making the bed with the corners tucked in, military-style. No bags, no computers, no uniform; there wasn't a single shred of evidence there'd been anyone besides him in this room.
He wasn't exactly surprised, Heero has said not to expect special treatment, but it was a shame; he would have liked to say a proper goodbye. He'd miss him while they were apart and if he was real honest with himself, it wasn't just about the sex. Heero was weird, stared too much and said too little, but he got a sense of a real dependable guy behind his hardass shell.
There was no time to dwell on it. He had work to do. They both did.
It was a trap after all. Some consolation that was, though. Being right didn't make him feel any better about being caught in the middle of it.
This wasn't enough company. The land route was supposed to be heavily guarded with the best of the best. All he'd seen on the way here was a token force of Aries, barely any Leos. Even only a few miles out, the force that met him was sparse, easily avoided until he was almost at the rail line itself. By then he'd been spotted, but their aim was sloppy while his good ol' beam scythe was reliable. The pilots they threw at him were all amateurs, even by Alliance standards. He doubted most of them were more than cadets. Looks like he was unlucky.
It was all up to Heero, then. Well, no one better he could have counted on to handle a mission. Even if he did want the satisfaction of taking out OZ's experimental prototype himself. He'd let Heero have this win.
The good news was that it wasn't just him who showed up. The heavy Gundam with twin blades, Sandrock, was already there when he made it, hellbent on stopping the train. The train itself wasn't defenceless, though. A stray shot knocked the other Gundam over, and he sprung into action. As tough as Sandrock might be, he'd noticed it was slow compared to Deathscythe. Could it handle getting hit by a train at at least three quarters top speed? He didn't want to have to find out.
Even with it going so fast he caught up in no time, but slicing through it wouldn't stop it hitting the other Gundam. He had to do something drastic, literally throw it off course. Hey, it was no skin off his back to help out a fellow pilot. If he couldn't be fighting with Heero, another pilot from the Colonies (who wasn't the asshole in the dragon hand one, anyway) was the next best thing. Sandrock's pilot had seemed friendly. And even if he was a massive jerk, he was still here for the Colonies and he wasn't gonna let him die by train!
"You wish!"
He'd never thrown a train before (never thought he'd have to, either). But Deathscythe was up to the occasion just like any other. Derailing it was just a matter of kicking up the boosters and throwing it off balance. It took precious seconds, the train getting closer and closer to the fallen Gundam. But as soon as the train moved a little it pitched hard, nearly pulling Deathscythe under, but he just barely let go of the cars before they skidded into the ground, avoiding getting taken along for the ride.
Even though Deathscythe's Gundanium, the sound metal screeching against the ground was awful, nearly deafening. The train cars had the momentum to go on for ages even after they broke apart, skidding away and kicking up a layer of dust and sand into the air. Some stopped before the sand gave way to a small hill, others toppled, careening down.
"Hey. You okay?"
He doubted one little missile would be enough to scratch Sandrock, and sure enough the other Gundam rose to its feet, facing him. A chipper voice answered him. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm glad you came!"
"Sure." It was interesting to know Sandrock's pilot didn't seem to know about them getting the same missions, but he shelved the thought for later. They could have a nice long chat about all the little 'coincidences' bringing them together after they got out of here. "But this route's the decoy."
"What?"
Didn't he see it? It was obvious. But before Duo could say anything else, he picked up blinking lights on his radar. Huh?
There were figures coming out of the wrecked train cars. Ten, fifteen- More and more Leos stood up, facing them. How many? Twenty-five, thirty maybe. Sandrock stepped closer to him, covering his back. There were more than from just the cars, either that or they were real good at hiding. It was an ambush and they'd both walked right into it.
Still, thirty Leos against two Gundams? He'd take those odds. Hell, he was almost insulted.
"Whaddaya think, buddy? Fifteen each? Sounds like a walk in the park." Deathscythe didn't answer, of course, but he had no doubt he could handle fifteen of them, even surrounded. Even at close range his Hyper Jammer put in work; most of the pilots he'd encountered in these Leos barely knew how to aim without their targeting systems putting in most of the work. He doubted Sandrock had the same luxury, but Sandrock had shrugged off bullets and beams like they were nothing before and those blades of his were no joke.
"Hey, Sandrock! You good with taking half?"
"I'll take out as many as I have to. Don't worry about me!"
"Good man. Here they come, c'mon!"
The Leos opened fire, but Duo was already rushing forward. Sandrock raised his shield and a brilliant flash engulfed the area. Perfect. The Leos were stunned, firing completely blind, and that was all the advantage Duo needed. He carved a path through the Leos, carving through three in quick succession with his beam scythe. A shot deflected off his shield- He fired his vulcans to stun another pair, and again they found themselves getting torn through. Again and again, they didn't stand a chance. He was faster than them and as he thought, these guys were useless without aim assistance.
For a trap, they'd sure sent him what seemed like the scraps of the Alliance military.
"C'mon, is that all you've got? How ya doin', Sandrock?"
Whirling around in his danse macabre, he didn't have time to watch Sandrock and how the pilot inside fought. He got glimpses of his massive blades, cutting though any suit that had the misfortune of being too close like they were made of paper and shrugging off any beams that managed to graze him. He couldn't quite tell, but it looked like the other Gundam's blades were only sometimes hot, unlike his beam scythe, and unlike them they were made of constant solid mass. The beam scythe was cooler, no one could dispute that (much less him, he had absolutely no complaints about his buddy Deathscythe), but damn if those two weren't neat.
He'd love to get up close and see how Sandrock's machinery worked. Trade tips and tricks. Had its pilot built it himself, or was another old geezer responsible? It couldn't go worse than letting Heero near Deathscythe had gone. He had so many questions and they all had to wait for later! These guys could really bother taking a hint.
"No complaints here! Careful, on your left!"
Three more Leos were approaching, two trying to cover their comrade in the middle with suppressing fire while the third charged him. Seriously? What did they think they were gonna do? The beam shots were wide, he had no trouble darting to the right and keeping well away from the charging Leo. He went after the two Leos in the back first, one slice cutting through a Leo's arms, the next baring down on its head. The Leo that had failed to ground him tried to recover, pulling its rifle, but Duo was gone, firing his thrusters forward and taking the arm before the pilot inside could take aim.
It raised its other arm, as if that would do it any good in protecting itself-
"Calling all Gundam Pilots!"
What? Duo halted his swing instinctively at the sudden intrusion over his comms. How did they know his frequency?
An incoming video transmission blinked on his monitor, no doubt sent by whoever was on the line. He almost felt like ignoring it and carrying on. What could they possibly have that could be worth his time? But whatever OZ lady was on the line didn't sound like she was playing around. He heard a gasp from Sandrock's pilot. Shit. What was he being shown?
He still didn't want to look. Whatever made his ally gasp couldn't be good. Hell, nothing OZ wanted to show off could be good. But against his better judgement, he accepted the transmission anyway.
The image was crisp as day. A colony, sitting out in space. He had no idea which one, so many of them looked the same. It didn't seem like L2, but who knew. It was surrounded by the satellites all pilots knew to watch for; missiles.
Lots of missiles. Far more than usual.
"We are now positioned to stage an all-out missile attack on this colony. We have seized all missile satellites from the former Alliance."
All of them? There must be thousands of missiles in space. Even a small hole could suck thousands of people out into the cold void if it was aimed right. Even he didn't kill thousands of people in one fell swoop! And they were civilians, for god's sake! He'd never, never turned his scythe on civilians. Only military targets. Only OZ targets. Not their families, not their friends.
"It's reasonable to say we control the destiny of all colonies."
What the hell had he taken this Gundam for? He was trying to stop mass slaughter! Now OZ was turning to the exact same tactics he'd stopped up in space.
"This isn't a bluff. I demand all you pilots surrender at once and hand over your Gundams."
"Deathscythe possesses a self-detonation device. If you risk falling into enemy hands, use it. It will be quicker than poison and less painful in the long run. Fools think poison is easier, but a lethal dosage of any toxin is highly dependent on the individual and most cause foul, miserable deaths. And should you survive, you will not only face painful recovery but OZ's torturers as well."
"Gee, thanks. Real comforting, G."
"Oh? And here I thought you'd be grateful. Since you were planning on blowing us all up anyway, I don't see why you're so bothered with a merciful death."
Merciful. Right. Staring down a big button that could kill him at any time was definitely screaming merciful and not psychotic. He got the logic in the old man throwing it in, but he didn't like the idea of being rigged up to explosives. But then, what were mobile suits if not prone to blowing up, right?
"I'm not bitter about it, Maxwell. If anything, I respect you all the more for your commitment, even if it was misplaced."
"..." Oh. Huh. He wasn't expecting praise, G had blindsided him with that one. He was expecting sharp words and to get thrown in solitary forever the second he'd failed. But G had stared him down, much like when they'd met, and had asked him whether he wanted to pilot Deathscythe.
He'd tested Deathscythe. Soon he was the only pilot who was allowed near the Gundam. But it wasn't official that he was going to pilot it, and he sure as hell wasn't planning on doing it when he'd heard what Operation Meteor was really going to entail. Senseless death. Pointless destruction. The whole planet would get thrown into complete oblivion. Millions would die instantly, and the survivors would wish they'd died. Not just humans, either; no way most animals would survive the harsh nuclear winters. They'd drink poison and eat each other alive just to dull the ache in their stomachs and parch their thirst for only a few moments. They'd breathe in radioactive air and shiver in makeshift shelters.
Sure, the Colonies would win. No way any Alliance or OZ or anyone left on Earth would be able to fight back if just one colony fell on top of them, let alone several. The people living in space could disarm the minefields and scrap the missiles. There would be open transport and communication again between the colonies. No one would need to look behind their backs for Alliance pigs waiting to stir up trouble. But he couldn't do it. He didn't have the heart or the stomach for it. There were so many innocent people down there, and the Earth itself hadn't done anything wrong but happen to house bad apples. He couldn't bear it. So he had to stop it. No matter what it took.
Deathscythe was his one hope. It was the most beautiful machine he'd ever had the pleasure of piloting. It was sleek, fast, and deadly beautiful in flight. He could have only dreamed of piloting something so perfect before he'd stowed away on G's ship trying to get to anywhere in the universe but L2. The Gundam was his life, not just here with the Scrappers, but going forward. It was his future even if it wasn't technically set in stone yet that he would be carrying out phase one. He had two things left in life that were his, his hair and Deathscythe. He loved that mobile suit and it ached that it would never get to see real action. But hey, he was good at ruining everything, wasn't he? Everything and everyone he got close to died, why not keep up the streak. Someone with as cursed of a life as his might as well go out with one hell of a bang.
But halfway through his rigging up as many thermoplastics as he could get his hands on he'd been spotted. He tried to fight, downed six guys in the process, but in the end he'd brought knives to a machine gun fight and he'd had to give up. They'd kicked him around, roughed him up some, but they stopped when they'd heard G wanted to see him. G's word was law.
His friends, his comrades, the guys he'd first drank with and trained with, dragged him to G's feet. The old man watched, sizing him up as he had the very first time they'd met just off of L2. And after what felt like ages, he finally spoke.
"Quid nunc, Maxwell? Did you think it was just us involved?"
"..." He didn't talk, not yet. First of all, G was throwing in Latin like they were having a friendly conversation and he hadn't been caught rigging the place up to explode. Where was the old man going with this?
"There are other parties that are... Invested in our operation. I don't blame you for reacting as you did. But you need to learn to act with more finesse. Blowing us up would have only let the Gundam fall into more dangerous hands."
"I ain't lettin' ya drop a colony on Earth, G."
"Yes, I'd somehow gathered that much."
As serious as the situation was, Duo couldn't help but softly snort. He liked G, that was the worst part of all this. The old man had a way with bringing the snark to every situation. The Latin he sometimes peppered into his sentences after he'd learned Duo knew enough of it to get by was annoying, he had to focus and think about what was being said and how best to respond to it, but honestly he didn't mind. It kept him from forgetting all the verses and passages and grammar Father Maxwell had gotten him to learn before shit really hit the fan on L2.
It might be a little careless of him, but he liked to think G liked his company too. He was already getting the feeling he might not be as toast as he thought; if G was really upset he'd have killed him already, not wasted time talking to him. He could buy some time. If he ended up in solitary, he just needed to get out and figure out another way to get to Deathscythe again. They couldn't bring colonies close to the Earth without a Gundam causing chaos first. They'd get spotted long before they were a real threat. Without Deathscythe and without the scientist who'd created it, their plan was dead in the water.
But what the hell did G mean by 'more dangerous hands' and 'other parties'? Was there someone even worse out there waiting in the wings? Was that what he was alluding to?
G interrupted his thoughts. "There is schism within our ranks. There are those of us with far more than second thoughts about the scope of our operation, you see."
Wait. G didn't want this either? "Then why-"
"I told you, boy. There are other parties involved that possess might we do not. If they learn about our dissenting opinions they will come here and take the Gundam and our lives- And not necessarily in that order. Think, Maxwell. Our options are limited. There are spies in our midst reporting on our progress."
Did he believe it? G could be throwing bullshit at him. But what would he get out of it? He could get another pilot for Deathscythe if he wanted to. Duo knew he was expendable, just a kid who'd gotten caught stowing away on the wrong ship. But G had liked him. G gave him a chance. Did he trust the old man?
The old man had put his trust in him. Quid pro quo. "If all that's true, give me a name. Who's threatening us?"
It came without hesitation. "Dekim Barton."
The name meant nothing to him, but G came up with it too fast. Either he was telling the truth or very prepared to have this conversation. Duo found himself believing it. At least, for now.
"... I thought I would have to persuade you. That perhaps you would also crave vengeance over common sense. For once I'm glad I underestimated you, Maxwell."
"Oh, don't get me wrong, old man, I want OZ to pay. Stipendium peccati mors est. Just not at the entire planet's expense."
The professor chuckled. "Heh. For a nonbeliever you're always prattling on about karma and curses."
"I believe in what I've seen. And I can sure raise hell with he right tools."
"Hmph. I suppose that's all I can ask of you."
Wait. "Huh?"
"I won't be selfish. You will pilot the Gundam Deathscythe against the Alliance. Your mission is to destroy the Order of the Zodiac."
It was over then. G had won. It might not have been worded like an offer, and Duo had no idea what the old man meant about not being selfish, but it was an offer and he'd accepted it, leading to him suiting up several days later en route to the Earth with G watching. Soon Deathscythe would be his for real, his to face down OZ with. They were on the run, a ship had been following them for some time now and it was steadily gaining on them. It wasn't Alliance, which meant it had something to do with that Dekim Barton guy. G might seem composed, but his eyes kept flicking behind them- He was more nervous than Duo had ever seen him show.
"Officially, you stole the Gundam. There was nothing we could do, you'd launched too late. Our ship was designed to be innocuous, you see; we had no weapons with which to guarantee shooting you down without risking the Gundam as a whole."
"What if Barton chases me?"
"I doubt he will. The man prefers not to dirty his own hands. He operates in the shadows of other pawns. And phase one will be proceeding as we initially planned anyways. I doubt he will bother once he thinks he has a grasp on the situation. Go to Earth. Meanwhile, we will delay Dekim Barton and prevent him from initiating phase two."
Lucky him. Duo looked out at the starry sky. Earth wasn't all that far away, but it was still a mere blip of glowing blue out there. He chuckled, trying to ignore his stomach abuzz with nerves. "Heh. Alright. Hey, you got some kinda reward for me once this is all over? And what's our new plan?"
"Kill until you are killed. Deus nolens exituus. Neca eos omnes, Deus suos agnoscet. There is nothing more I can offer the God of Death but a Gundam as his tool. Hm, besides, only a fool would bargain with Death."
"Hmph!" Whether God was willing or not, huh. And kill 'em all. Good thing he wasn't a believer. "I might be the God of Death, old man, but you must be in charge of the Plague."
The old man in question had laughed, a bitter and resigned thing. Duo knew the feeling. "Well put, Maxwell. Pestilence and Death riding in on horses." He didn't call him 'boy' and hadn't for a while. Maybe he wasn't a boy to G anymore now that he was launching off. "Now go. We will only be able to delay Barton so long."
"Vide te in inferno, G."
"... Hmph. Don't meet me there too quickly, Duo."
He thought he heard hesitance, but no way from someone like G would hesitate. It must have been his imagination.
"They're targeting the Colonies!"
And hand over our Gundams? Like hell he would. That was one thing he couldn't let happen. That bitch on the line was already threatening the Colonies and all they had up there were missiles and lasers. OZ would do horrible things if they got their hands on a Gundam. He could already see Deathscythe being turned against any trace of rebellion, both down here and up in space. And if they could mass-produce any one of these Gundams? No one would stand a chance. Every single voice of dissent would get cut down before anyone had the chance to know there were others out there feeling the same way.
But there could be a hundred thousand people in a colony that size! He didn't know which one was on the screen but there weren't many as big as the one they were being shown. This wasn't the end, either; with all the missiles in space how many people would die if they didn't surrender?
Was everyone in OZ really okay with killing so many civilians? Were their souls really all that black? Wouldn't someone stop the crazy bitch with her finger on the launch button? He would never have resorted to this. The pilot alongside him wouldn't have either, he could hear it in the horror in his voice. Would Heero have gone for it? No, he doubted it. Just like him, Heero had only gone after military targets.
What should they do? Fight their way out? Hope someone stopped her? Damn it! He'd kill her, he'd wring this psycho's neck himself if he ever figured out who she was. Someone like her was too crazy to leave in charge. But that didn't help them right now, surrounded by Leos and just waiting for this psychopath to let loose on a colony.
"..." They needed a miracle. A goddamn miracle. And he wasn't holding his breath. No god ever gave him a single good thing before ripping it away. He made his own luck.
But it felt real short right about now.
Time ticked on. It felt like the seconds stretched on forever without another word from the crazy woman on the other side of wherever. Sandrock's pilot was breathing heavily over comms, but he didn't step out of his Gundam. He had to be mulling over his options too. He half-wanted to ask him what to do, but that wasn't fair. It was up to each of them to decide, he wasn't dragging anyone else in.
He couldn't let them have a Gundam. It was thousands of people for the sake of five... But what OZ would do with a Gundam..!
A sharp crackling sound suddenly filled his cockpit, and Duo sat up straight, checking all his monitors and through his viewports for the source of the noise. Did the Leos have some new weapon? No, it was something else. A new video feed blinked on in the right corner of his monitor. An old man with long hair, a claw replacing one of his arms, and goggles obscuring his eyes appeared, his features partially obscured with the harsh blue light coming off of the monitors behind him.
Heero's handler..?
"Attention OZ. I never would have believed you people could be so incredibly foolish! The space colonies have no intention of fighting OZ. This is my personal battle I'm staging against you!"
"... Who is this guy?" He knew who it was even if he'd only seen him for a moment, but he wondered if Sandrock's pilot knew more than he did.
"The person who's been sending orders to someone amongst us five."
It confirmed what he already suspected. None of them had the same handlers. No way G could have kept another pilot under wraps from him, but he didn't know whether the other pilots were all working apart from one another. He was going to have a lot to ask Sandrock's pilot if they ever got outta here.
The man on the screen continued. "In your eyes, inhumane moves such as attacking the colonies are just if that's what it takes for you to come out victorious, right? I have no choice but to surrender."
Wait. What the hell did that mean? No way Heero would ever give up. It wasn't in him. No way.
The bitch started talking again. "Very well, your surrender's accepted. Abandon your Gundams immediately."
I don't take orders from him! G would never do this. G would rather slit his own throat than cooperate with OZ, even at a time like this. Duo grit his teeth, instinctively tightening his grip on Deathscythe's controls. He was leaning more and more towards fighting his way outta here and taking as many OZ bastards with him as possible. They all heard the lady they were following. Not a single one of 'em said a word against what she was doing! Not one! They were all equally responsible if one of the colonies took a hit from those missiles.
"I surrender, but I will not hand over the Gundams. I repeat, I will not hand over the Gundams!"
Wait-
Another feed popped up onto his main monitor. It was Wing, and there was someone standing at the edge of the cockpit. Heero, it had to be. The camera took a moment to come into focus, but when it did Duo's worst fears were confirmed.
Don't do it! Don't you dare do it, don't-
Heero couldn't hear him. And even if he could, he wouldn't have listened. He'd seen that look from him before, he'd seen it the very first day they'd met when the other pilot had torn up his wrist from trying to get through his restraints. When he'd landed with the sand in every bit of his mangled skin and his leg broken and still stood up like he was daring the world to do worse to him. He was set on obeying that Doctor's veiled command. Hell, those might have been code words for all he knew. Even if they weren't, the message was clear; Don't let your Gundam fall into enemy hands. Don't let yourself fall into their hands either.
It was the right play, he knew it was the last thing left any of them could do, but it was one thing to know it was the right thing and another to see it, to see Heero with the button in hand and to know-
Heero mouthed two words, but whatever they were there was no audio feed and Duo couldn't read his lips before he lifted the button just over his mouth, pressing it.
No!
Duo jerked forward in the cockpit, rage and horror both rocking through him. He was completely powerless, he was hours away at top speed. He had to watch, watch as Wing glowed first red then a brilliant blue-white at its core, seeming suspended in time before it detonated. The shock of the explosion made the camera shudder, rocking around out of focus- The feed cut out, leaving him with only the Leos in front of him and Sandrock behind.
He slammed the butt of his beam scythe right through the head of the felled Leo. The glass over its viewport shattered. Next he rammed it through the thick metal of the cockpit. His scythe sputtered for a moment, the beam cutting out with the force he used to get through the steel, but it returned after a few struggled gasps back to life.
"Trowa... Is that you, Trowa?"
Sandrock's pilot was talking. Who the hell was Trowa? Another pilot? He didn't hear anything.
He didn't know what Sandrock was doing. It briefly registered that his pilot sounded like he was in pain in the midst of him talking to someone he couldn't hear, but Duo didn't care, not right now. It was his own stupid choice to get involved with Heero when their mission meant any of them could eventually kick it, but Heero had felt invincible, somehow. He never would've thought it would have been Heero who died first, not a snowball's chance in Hell he would have bet on that. He would have thought it would have been himself, or maybe Sandrock's pilot who sounded too cheery and kind for his own good. Or that arrogant brat who'd only showed up to call them all idiots then flew off to god knows where. Not Heero. Never Heero.
Why did it have to be Heero?
"All because they targeted the Colonies!" Damn it!
"We can't fight any longer... Come with me, I'll cover us!"
He didn't want to. He wanted to cut every single one of these bastards down and leave the parts strewn all over this sandy expanse both to burn off the fury trying to overtake him and as a warning to anyone else who might dare think about firing on a colony. But as furious as he was, Duo recognized they had a fleeting opportunity to escape and that window was narrowing fast. Heero was dead, blown to shit and probably in a thousand burned and bloody chunks right about now, but OZ hadn't fired yet. That woman would have made a show of it just like she'd shown off Heero's last defiant act. Maybe someone finally stood up against her and made her stop, or maybe she was still processing what happened. Either way, they were running out of time.
Sandrock raised its shield again, firing off an even more powerful light. The remaining Leos tried firing, but they were way too late. Duo grit his teeth, pounded the thrusters, and headed farther to the Southeast, following Sandrock's outline in the harsh white light.
"I have allies, let's group together. There's a forest not far from here we can take cover in."
He just followed, hating that he was leaving the battle. Hating that he couldn't even give Heero proper revenge. That woman was going to His hands clenched on the controls, his shoulders shook. But at least he didn't cry, and at least Sandrock's pilot didn't try to get him to talk on the steady march, through bare rocks and sandy dunes, finally down a steep cliff edge that gave way to a riverbed surrounded by dense tree cover.
It was only when the group of mobile suits settled in around him, when they'd made sure they were deep in and away from enemy eyes, that Duo finally managed to uncurl his stiff hands from Deathscythe's controls. They still curled, and he had to breathe in, then out, forcing his fingers apart and getting blood back to them.
It was happening again. The same thing that always did when he let someone in.
He reclined his seat back, but it was a long, dark time before he managed to go to sleep. Blank, lifeless grey-blue eyes kept haunting the back of his mind.