It's better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven,
Surrounded now but no surrender...
The odds against the planning man,
Far beyond, but I still believe...
He wasn't shot down. None of them were, as far as he could tell with the limited information the HLV could track.
He soon split off from the dragon-armed Gundam's pilot. It looked like that guy had an idea of where he wanted to go and got out fast. Duo... Didn't have that kind of direction.
He'd figured he'd follow Quatre. That had been the plan, to stick together with his new friend. They were gonna try to get to a Winner-allied colony in L4 and figure out their next moves together. But however Quatre managed to get into space instead of self-detonating along with his Gundam, he didn't know where he was, or if he'd even made it to up into the stars.
Looking for G had crossed his mind, but Duo nipped it in the bud the moment it came to him. He couldn't do that. An OZ HLV wasn't exactly the most subtle of spacecraft or the fastest. He bet OZ was already trying to track him down. And even if he managed to take this hunk of metal and get away with it and find where G was hiding out, no way G wouldn't shoot down an unknown HLV bearing down on his location. There was a chance G had witnessed his escape, but knowing the old man he'd assume it was a trap. No way that would work.
As far as he figured, he had two options; head towards a colony right away and get Deathscythe calibrated for space combat there, or try to make the necessary calibrations himself in this thing and go to a colony in Deathscythe. He had about two weeks' worth of oxygen, but he wasn't sure if he had all the tools to get Deathscythe ready on hand. HLVs tended to have basic tools for mobile suit repair in them, but he was SOL if he had to make any major changes.
It made more sense to head for a colony cluster, but which one? Anything in D was dangerous with that little declaration of theirs. He knew L2, but...
He'd promised to himself he wasn't going to go back to L2. He didn't want to go back. There was nothing for him there. Even if he went to a colony other than V08744, the idea of stepping foot on any bit of L2 left a shadow of dread on him and a knot in the pit of his stomach. He hated that place, that cluster. He'd finally clawed his way out of that shithole, he wasn't going back. Not unless it was the last place in the galaxy, and even then he'd be reluctant.
Maybe L4 was the play. Head there and hope he could meet up with Quatre like they'd both planned. It was as good an idea as any, even if L4 was far away compared to L1 or 2. He had the air. Food would be a problem if it was a long trip, but he had some water and dried meat and fruit packed in Deathscythe. It should be enough, the trip should only take a few days. If he ran out? Well, it wasn't like he hadn't gone hungry before.
Where had Heero gone? He wished he knew. Was he alright? Had he made it out safe? Heh, as if there was any doubt. If he could survive self-detonating why wouldn't he survive bumrushing an OZ spaceport and stealing an HLV? No, he was alive and somewhere out in space.
Heero had come from L1, he said. Would he go into hiding on familiar grounds, or go somewhere unexpected? ... Sadly, Duo had to admit he didn't know. All he'd be doing was guessing. Besides, chasing after him like that annoying blonde? Nah. No way. That wasn't his style. He'd meet up with Quatre. That was the plan.
... Though he couldn't say the thought wasn't tempting.
Duo sighed, then stretched as much as he could in a spacesuit strapped to a chair. The adrenaline from escaping the spaceport had long since worn off. He was feeling the headache again and couldn't help but yawning. He was beat. Could he afford a quick rest? OZ wasn't chasing him now, right?
With another yawn, Duo keyed in a course for the nearest L4 colony. He'd just barely have enough fuel to make it if he was careful with its consumption. At least OZ had taken care of the space mines. The mines they'd put there in the first place. It shouldn't be suicide to let the autopilot take over for a few hours, right? Just a few. Then he could get back to it and plot a real course. Hey, maybe he'd get lucky and be able to make contact with Quatre if they were heading to the same place.
Or Heero, but Duo shoved that thought to the back of his mind. He unbuckled the safety straps and stretched out one more time, then headed further into the HLV. He didn't wanna sleep in here. There was only one place he felt fully safe to rest in enemy territory, and that was in Deathscythe's cockpit.
"Hey buddy. How you doin' down here?" As ever, Deathscythe didn't answer, though he almost swore he saw a glint in its green eyes for a moment. He opened up the cockpit, nestling himself inside. Yeah, just like home. More like home than anywhere he'd been in years. He shed his helmet, then his suit. No need sealed up in here; Deathscythe had its own air supply. He'd be fine.
"We're heading to L4. Never been. It'll be the first time for both of us, heh. Mind if I join ya, pal? Yeah. Bet you don't." He closed up the cockpit, patting the control panel affectionately, then rubbing his eyes- Ow. That stung. Had he cut his nose? With a little frown, he got up and reached for a small first aid kit. It only packed the absolute essentials, but he had a few bandages and peeled the wrapper off one to stick it just below the bridge of his nose. Once that was done, and he yawned again, Duo sat back in Deathscythe's seat.
"Don't let me sleep too long, okay? Just for a bit. Just a bit..."
No sooner than he'd leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, Duo was out.
"HLV shuttle, identify yourself. I repeat, HLV shuttle, identify yourself. You are in controlled airspace. Leave immediately or be shot down."
Duo woke up with a start, the words he was hearing struggling to come together in his mind. When he finally realized what was being said, a jolt ran through him that woke up him quick. He sat up straight and frowned. How long was he out? Too long, obviously.
Did he have time to get to the cockpit and try to bluff his way out? Probably not. He was gonna be low on fuel at this rate anyways. His frown deepened. What should he do?
Deathscythe wasn't ready for space combat. It had taken a beating, too. Could he fight it out? He might not have a choice. He was sure OZ could identify their HLVs. They'd figure out this one was from Singapore and had been launched without authorization. Damn it! He must have slept at least a day straight.
He didn't have much time. He powered Deathscythe up, biting his lip upon seeing how long it was taking for its systems to start up. 'Scythe had taken a beating back on Earth. It needed TLC, not another fight in unknown territory.
"I'm sorry, buddy. We'll rest when we're done here, okay? But we gotta get somewhere safe. It ain't safe right now. Just one more show, promise. Then I'll fix you up nice and good." At least his beam scythe was intact. No vulcans, though. He was gonna have to make do.
He opened one of pod doors, letting himself drift outside. His hyper jammer activated. He should be obscured from enemy radar.
If only he could have set it up around the whole ship! But he didn't have either the time or the equipment to rig that kind of tech up. Duo made a note that if he made it out of this situation, he should look into that. Figure out how G set it up and make one of his own.
It was a big if. But he'd just have to make it happen.
"C'mon, where the hell are all you bastards..." OZ had to be close. No way they weren't. He took deep breaths, in and out. Patience, Duo. Patience. They'd come out.
It took no more than two minutes before he saw the glimmer of approaching thrusters. How many suits? Four, five... Eight suits, huh. Three Leos, and the rest were black and red suits he didn't recognize. They were sleek, kind of spiky- Obviously based on Leos, but not quite.
Well, whatever suits they were, he'd give 'em a run for their money.
The Leos approached the HLV first. Maybe these poor suckers were new recruits. They sure got the bad end of the stick in terms of suits. Closer, closer...
It was far too late for them by the time they touched the HLV. With one, two, three cuts, their suits were slashed to bits, almost eerily quiet in the vacuum of space.
Despite his win, Duo frowned. Everything felt too floaty, too slow, and whether that was from space or from Deathscythe being damaged he didn't know. Right now, it didn't matter. He'd taken them by surprise and gotten the upper hand, but now they'd know he was here and there were still five more of 'em.
Still, he smiled right after. No need to let the enemy know he wasn't at his best. Freak someone out enough and they always made mistakes. He was gonna need every advantage here.
"It's quite an honour bein' greeted with your latest model. But let me warn you that anyone carelessly approaching is GONNA DIE!"
Four of the new models broke off from the last one and charged at him. If they were scared, they weren't showing it. Well, it was worth a shot.
They got to him faster than he expected. He tried to turn to face one, but overspun, unused to the lack of gravity. Duo corrected it, but the suit was already gone.
"They're fast..."
Faster than him in this lack of atmosphere. They darted around in his vision, keeping just out of where he could get a read on them. All four circled, over and over, like sharks around their prey, waiting.
One fired.
Duo just barely managed to dodge, but again he moved way further than he meant to. Come on, focus! This was life or death! Another fired, and this time the beam struck true. Deathscythe shuddered, flying through the void. Another shoved his Gundam forward. Again and again they fired, and one smashed into Deathscythe's head, spinning his cameras around nauseatingly.
"Ghh-"
There was nothing he could do. These things were too damn fast. He desperately reached out, activating the beam in his shield, and shot it forward. That should at least take out one! But even that move, even as close as they were, the new suit just barely dodged it, vacantly staring at the shield as it went by.
"So that didn't work either..?"
There was something wrong here, something just barely at the edge of his mind. Something he should be realizing. But whatever it was, he just couldn't figure it out.
He was going to die. The realization was like falling through the ice- It made him shudder at the thought. He didn't want to die, not here! Not when there was so much more to do! But the suits kept firing, and while Deathscythe's Gundanium was still holding strong there was only so much it could take. He couldn't even escape, not that that had been a good option to begin with. That's why he'd tried fighting his way out.
"Hah..."
Even worse, it was taking more and more to get Deathscythe to even attempt to move. He was losing power, and losing it fast. "Zero output, huh..? Well..."
If Deathscythe's going down, I don't have long myself. He would either get vaporized or get exposed to the airless void around him, and neither sounded like great options.
"But still, I'll die fightin'. C'mon, you bastards. Get in real close."
Even their leader was coming now that he was clearly in no shape to fight. Good. If he could take 'em all out in his dying breath all the better. At least he'd get something outta this. With luck these were the only working prototypes of these new nasty suits. Maybe he'd set 'em back a few weeks or months. Duo doubted it, but he tried to stay positive, facing down the barrel of a beam rifle.
It fired on him. But the pilot was a lousy shot- He fired wide. Duo closed his eyes against the white-hot light of the beam. He could feel it, he could hear Deathscythe's warning blares go off- He must have got a limb. Duo grit his teeth.
There was only one choice left. He couldn't let them take him alive.
The light finally subsided. So did Deathscythe's alarms, but that worrying sign didn't quite hit Duo yet. He was shivering, but still reached out for a hidden panel, opening it with his hand's slight pressure.
Guess it's my turn.
"I don't wanna copy Heero, but..."
They were close enough. It was time. He was only gonna get one shot.
"Tag along on my journey into Hell!"
He slammed down on the button before he could have second thoughts.
... But instead of heat flooding the cockpit, instead of red light and destruction, instead of the flash of pain before his body was blown to nothing and his nerves could no longer get info to his brain, there was nothing. Nothing happened.
"C'mon!"
He slammed it again. But still, nothing happened.
He was well and royally fucked.
"Heh... Not my lucky day... Can't even self-detonate..."
He didn't even have the choice to kill himself. Even that was taken from him. What, the Reaper would take everyone away from him but didn't want him? What a joke...
Duo shivered, shuddered, and finally trembled. "Or maybe I am lucky..."
It was too much. He couldn't handle it. In some kind of twisted mercy, his vision swam, blurred, and finally went black.
The light was painfully sharp when he somewhat came to.
The air's smell immediately clued him in that he wasn't on Earth. It didn't have that weight to it, the faint smell of the salt or the soil. Nah, it was artificial, just barely moist enough to not feel dry as he breathed it in. It sounded like... There were people shouting? Duo groaned, but his voice barely registered over the noise. It pounded at his head, making him squint against both the light and the pain.
He was also being held up. Duo didn't like it, he wanted to squirm, but his limbs felt like heavy weights dragging him down. He could barely move, let alone fight. Was he drugged? God damn it...
Whoever was holding him started to move, and his vision went black again.
The next time he opened his eyes, the light was still bright, but manageable. More sensations flooded his body, but this time they were grounded and held weight. His arms didn't feel so heavy, and he was able to swing his legs just a little bit.
The bad news was his hands were cuffed together. He wasn't being held anymore, but he was strapped down against a rough, scratchy-feeling seat. It smelled like old car and metal. There were two people in front of him, silhouettes at first but coming into more and more focus. As they did, his eyes narrowed; they were all OZ, down to their ugly green berets.
There were two other guys beside him, boxing him in. All of them had guns at the ready. All of them would probably cap him in the head without hesitation.
... He shouldn't have relied on Deathscythe's self-detonation. He should have had a cyanide capsule too.
The yelling was still going, muffled against whatever transport was bringing them in. Had to be some kind of detention vehicle. It sure felt like it.
Duo stayed quiet, tried not to give any indication he was awake yet. But somehow, the guy facing him knew, grinning at him.
"Look who's finally awake, men."
A gloater. Wasn't that swell.
"Look at this little brat! Not so scary without your big toy, are you-"
"Shut up, Douglas." The man beside him had a deeper and more authoritative voice. Must be his boss. Douglas gave him a withering glare, but did what he was told, his mouth in a twisted line. "Sir."
The drive didn't last long. The transport stopped sooner than he would have thought. How long had be been out this time? He looked towards the small window, but it was impossible to tell on what time it was on a colony from just the light. It had to be sometime during the day, but that's all he was gonna get, and even that meant little when he had no idea which colony this was.
"Where are we..?"
He was roughly shoved in the shoulder by the same guy on his left. "You shut up too. You'll have plenty of time to sing inside."
The back doors were thrown open, exposing him to even more light. Duo winced, blinded for a few crucial moments. They unbuckled him but immediately grabbed onto his shoulders and hauled him up and outside the transport. The roar of the crowd became even larger.
... They had to have been parading him around out there. Duo's stomach roiled. He hadn't eaten before his run-in with OZ and obviously hadn't eaten since. Maybe that was a good thing. He wouldn't throw up here and now.
They took him down beige hallways with bright fluorescent lights. A left, down three doors, two to the left. Another right. Down an elevator. He tried to keep track as best he could. He somehow doubted if he got out of here alive he'd be going through the front door, but if he didn't find some hope to cling to he wasn't going to make it through this.
OZ was going to have torturers. They were gonna try and make him squeal. He knew all that already. He'd been trained in this, but Duo would be lying if he hadn't had a small hope inside him when he'd gone on this mission that he'd never have to use it. Looked like he was going to have no such luck.
The room they finally shoved him into was a calming eggshell blue with a single window filtering light from outside. Near a wall, but he couldn't tell which direction he was facing. East, maybe, but it was just an educated guess.
If he had explosives, he could escape from the wall. But he didn't. He bet he had nothing in his pockets either. His knives were definitely gone, he couldn't feel them on his arms or on the holder tied around his leg. They'd frisked him first, he bet. He tried not to think of it too hard.
The three OZ goons still stood behind him after they shoved him into a metal chair. Another OZ member, a man with light red-brown hair in a military space suit, sat down on the other side of the table from him. The goons saluted him. Disgusting.
The man stared at him coldly, but his tone of voice was level. "I wasn't expecting the pilot of that Gundam to be just a kid."
"Well excuse me! So I wounded your pride, have I?"
If he could goad this guy into getting angry, maybe he could get the upper hand. But it felt hopeless when two of the guys behind him immediately grabbed him and shoved him backwards against the seat.
The man's expression didn't change. His grey-brown eyes were almost vacant, like he was staring through Duo at something else. "That's nothing compared to how your pride's suffered. You'll be executed. The people's feelings towards your execution will unite the colonies." When he chuckled, his eyes finally showed a small glimmer of a nasty light. "I never expected to get to use the Gundam pilots in this way."
They weren't going to question him, then? Or maybe not yet. It was good news, but Duo still acted offended. "Why you-"
One of the men grabbed his braid and slammed his head against the table, immediately making his vision spin and pain to bloom from it. Then he got angry for real, a white hot thing that made him shove back in the chair as best he could and snarl his words.
"God damn all of you to Hell-"
They threw him to the side, the chair tipping over with him in it. Duo hit the concrete, gasping with the shock and sudden cold. Then they were on him.
The man in the space gear stood up, just as expressionless as before. "We've shown him on the news. He needs to look intact! Leave his hair, leave his face. And he needs to be able to walk!" With that, he walked out the door.
They weren't torturers, at least not professionally. But the pain was still agonizing. They kicked him, they slammed his head against the ground. They stomped on his back, his hands. A boot got him right in the stomach, making it roil again- A second and he heaved, throwing up bile against the floor. He coughed, trying to roll away from it, but another boot smashed him in the face, then clamped down on his head to keep him there. The men laughed, leaving his face in it. His nose throbbed and bled, mixing with the bile in a miserable combination.
His eyes stung and his stomach heaved again from the smell, but Duo steadied himself as best he could. He might be in a puddle of his blood and vomit, but he wasn't gonna cry in it. No, not that. He wouldn't give these sick goons the satisfaction.
"Oops." It was that bastard Douglas again. "Is it broken?"
"Nah, just bleeding. The Lieutenant won't give a damn about that."
One of them grabbed his braid again, yanking up his head, and despite himself Duo writhed, trying to thrash against it. But his attempts were pitiful, every move feeling like electric shocks racing under his skin. He couldn't get away, and again Douglas laughed, pulling out a knife that looked unpleasantly like his. It probably was his, the bastard likely took it from him when he was passed out.
I'll gut you for this you fucker-
"You like your hair, huh, pretty boy. I'd cut it real nice if they didn't want ya looking like you."
One of the others piped up. "Come on, let's just slit his throat right here. Or at least stab him. He can survive a few days with some holes in him."
The big one spoke up again. "No. You heard the Lieutenant! We're going to make an example of him. Besides, he needs to be lucid. The professionals are on their way. I saw them working once. We'll get everything he knows outta him. After that," The soldier leaned close. His breath smelled sour, like weeks-old coffee. "You can play with him before he dies. I'll give you that much."
That satisfied Douglas. The man grinned, yanking his hair again and throwing him against the wall. With his hands tied all he could do to catch himself was twist around, slamming his shoulder instead of his head. Duo cried out in pain, and again they laughed.
"Alright, alright. Let's leave him for now. We'll have more fun tomorrow on the morning shift. Let him stew on it."
Their laughs were wicked. They grabbed him again, hauling him to his feet. His vision swam again, and Duo stumbled, but following the rest of his luck today he didn't black out this time. He didn't even try fighting, he knew there'd be no point. They dragged him towards a cell and it was all he could do to count the doors this time. Twelve down the hall before they found the right place and shoved him in, uncuffing him just in time to slam the door shut.
He barely caught himself on his aching arms. His wrists cried out with more of that lightning-hot pain, and Duo slowly slid to the floor.
He didn't know how long he lay there for, drifting in and out of consciousness. His mouth was dry. It would only get drier. Depending on how long they planned on keeping him alive he might get water or might not. Food? Probably not. It would be wasted on him.
He wanted nothing more than to lose consciousness again, but whether from the pain or sheer frustration he didn't manage to pass out. He was stuck annoyingly lying on the floor, everything but the face they said not to harm aching. His chest was the worst by far, they really did a number on him. Even breathing ached. They might have broken some of his ribs.
Man... They really did me over... They could've been more gentle...
But they also could have been worse, and he knew it. He could move his fingers, even if they felt useless in helping him right now. His legs weren't broken either, and that could be a blessing. Heh, funny to say blessing when he was one big ball of pain, but it was a blessing. Not getting stabbed and lying in a pool of his own blood was a blessing too.
They hadn't used a name for him, either. They didn't know who he was. Heh, well, that was no surprise. Not like Duo Maxwell was the name he was born with. He had no idea what his name was, or if he even had any records. Not like he had parents to take him for shots or get him in school. He was obviously born somewhere or other, but he didn't have so much of a hint of who he'd been or what the people who made him were like. Even a dive into V08744's records a year ago had given him nothing but a murky mess, and he was better at hunting info down than some deskbound OZ cyber nerd working 9-5. He'd never been to a hospital and his prints and records were scrubbed ages back. If OZ went trying to figure him out, they were wasting their time.
So at least there was that. But them not knowing his name wouldn't stop them from torturing him when the pros came in, or from televising his execution live.
He lay there for what felt like hours. He couldn't really tell how much time was passing, the tiny box of a cell they threw him in didn't even have a window to see a sliver of light from. Since his body didn't give him the courtesy of passing out again, Duo finally figured he might as well try to sit up.
It was miserable, it was agony, but his angry wrists held up his weight. If they were broken he'd be having a harder time. He wasn't so sure about all his fingers now that he was putting weight on them, but the major ones were moving and his thumbs were miraculously okay. What didn't stop was the constant pain on the left side of his chest. He coughed, and it burned worse, making him cringe with the pain. That meant one of his ribs was at best badly bruised and more likely broken. Damn it.
Duo managed to lean against the wall, panting with the exertion. It felt better than being on the floor, though not by much. His stupid bandage was still on his nose, huh. He peeled it off and rolled it up, tossing it aside. No point in keeping it on while the rest of him was even worse. Next he wiped off his face. His nose had stopped bleeding, but he didn't like the crusty blood that remained on his face.
"This isn't good." And if that wasn't the understatement of the century, but he spoke to hear the words, to hear something other than the faint hum of the lights outside his cell. His hands might be untied, but he had nothing to work with. No explosives, no visible locks for the picks still tied in his hair, nada. If he had food in him and hadn't gotten beaten maybe he could try picking a fight with the guard out there, but no way he'd be able to overpower a soldier with a gun in a state like this.
He had to do something. He needed a plan... And nothing was coming to mind.
Duo leaned back and sighed, determined to get some kind of plan cooking no matter how unlikely it was to work, when he heard what sounded like a loud thump from the other side of the wall. He opened his eyes, staring at the door. There was another, even louder thump, a pained cry, then silence.
The hell..?
The door flew open, flooding the room in more bright, fluorescent light. Duo squinted and threw his arm in front of his face to try to see something, anything. Even through the pain, he could see a silhouette grab another and throw what looked like a man to the ground. The man didn't do so much as yelp in pain- He was out cold, or maybe even dead. Hard to tell.
Against the light, just barely visible as his eyes adjusted, was a pair of cold grey-blue eyes and a mop of dark hair.
Heero.
We continue along the canon path with some added details. And finally, our leads reunite.
I was going to wait a few days for this but I decided I couldn't wait. So here it is. I'm on a writing roll, so expect the next chapter (a bit of a shorter one) quite soon.