Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Burnout ❯ chapter 10 ( Chapter 11 )

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I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, and my Beta.

I almost have Chapter eleven completed, and that will be out soon. I also have the last three chapters and the epilogue completed. I just need to finish the middle chapters ~-~; But I work on them day and night, so it won't be to much longer. I'm hoping, because of work and life, that I'll be able to post at least one chapter per week. No promises, but that is what I'm shooting for, and hey, maybe I'll surprise you and post more often.

Anyways, Arigato Minna!!!!! And please, keep reading.

Weissangel24

P.S. Misanagi: Yes, the dreaded chapter :: Insert scary music:: is coming. . . but it's not this one and probably not the next one either. ^-^; I have honestly no Idea how mellow or terrible it will be yet, my muses are working overtime in order to figure that out.

Please keep reading and reviewing.

Arigato,

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Chapter ten

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Quatre gratefully accepted his tea from a servant and settled in an oversized armchair with his book. His injuries weren't as painful today, though he was still tired. Quiet reading was just what he needed.

Atlas, it was not meant to be.

"Quatre. . ." Iria said, a worried look on her face, "I think you should come look at this. . ." She gestured for him to follow.

Warily, Quatre sighed. "I'm coming, Iria. . ." He said as he set down his book and picked up his tea cup, before following his older sister into the T.V. room. "What is it?"

"Look. . ." she said, pointing at the screen, and the battle it showed.

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The braided boy reached out and ripped the wanted poster from the wall. Glaring, he crumpled it up and threw it into the trash. Nervously, he glanced about the busy streets, pulling his black cap lower, covering his eyes. "Why are the colony citizens so eager to swallow OZ's lies?" He asked himself, shaking his head as he spied another poster, "They didn't even get my good side." He pouted tearing that poster up as well.

// New OZ recruits are taking a test to demonstrate their skills in a mock battle against space mines. . .//

Duo glared up at the big screen that sat in the middle of the Colony's main square.

"Traitors. . ."

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It was pathetic.

He and the other recruits had to demonstrate their level of skill by using old space Leos to destroy specified targets.

And the others sucked.

The banged boy smirked. `This is almost too easy.' He thought, as he destroyed target after target. "This is Trowa Barton. I am finished with the test."

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"Colonel, his stats are amazing." Lt. Nickole said. "There's no way for him to be this good- unless he is a Gundam pilot. . ."

"Did you find anything in his files?" Une raised an eyebrow.

"No, Colonel."

"Then it looks as if he has some natural talent that is just now having a chance to show."

"But Colonel!" The Lt. protested.

"I have a way to prove his loyalties. . ." The colonel grinned evilly.

"Trowa Barton, we have one more test for you." Nickole's voice ordered, seemingly somewhat smugly, across the radio, "Please destroy the following target. . ."

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An image flashed onto Trowa's monitor. The banged boy's eyes widened, with recognition, "But that's the. . ."

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The tea cup that he held in his hands crashed to the floor, shattering, the dark liquid seeping into and staining the cream colored carpet. The blonde shook his head in denial at what he was witnessing on the vid screen. "You would betray us, Trowa?"

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// A colonist, Trowa Barton, who was enraged at the Gundams, is about to show his loyalty by destroying one of the enemy suits. // The news caster reported as an image of a dark Gundam floating amidst debris in open space, came into focus.

Duo's face lost all of its color as he realized exactly which suit that was. "Hey, Deathscythe. . ." He whispered to his old partner. "Don't go giving up on me. . . You're going to be alright. . . You hear?"

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`Duo will never forgive me.' Trowa thought as he stared at the machine, his target. `Quatre will never forgive me. . .'

/Trowa Barton, fire on the target./ an officer ordered from across the radio.

Trowa didn't move.

"I knew it Colonel!" Lt. Nickole gloated, "He is a Gundam pilot!"

"Hand me your beam cannon." Trowa said, his voice even, and cold.

"What?" Nickole frowned.

"It's made from Gundaniam alloy." Trowa explained to the simpleton, "The Leo's weapon won't complete the objective."

Hesitatingly, Nickole handed over his mobile suit's beam cannon.

Trowa aimed and fired.

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The screen was enveloped in a blinding flash of light as the Gundam Deathscythe exploded.

Duo couldn't believe it. He just stared at the screen in utter shock. Finally, when it did set in, what had just happened, he couldn't stand it. The braided boy shook his head, muttering "No. . . no. . ." repeatedly, until he whipped away from the scene and screamed out his sorrow and grief, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

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// "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" //

"Uh-ah!" the sensitive boy gasped sharply, his hands clenched at his heart as he fought to remain standing. "D. . .Duo!" He cried, tears streaming down his face, "T. . .Trowa!" Quatre grimaced as he stumbled to the door, before collapsing to his knees, "No, no, no. . ." He sobbed, "Trowa's not a traitor! He's not . . . He can't be! Not Trowa. . . He's not a traitor -NO!"

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Trowa swallowed the lump in his throat. `That was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. . .' He thought. `I'm sorry, Quatre. . . I'm so sorry. . .'

Droplets of water floated in front of the banged boy. He blinked in surprise. "Those sparkles. . ." he whispered amazed, "They're my tears. . ."

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Lt. Nickole was fit to be tied, as he waited for Trowa to arrive from the main hanger. He had been sure that the test would be proof to the pilot's true identity. `Who knew that he'd actually be willing to go as far as to destroy his own ally. . .' He sulked.

The elevator doors slid open and Trowa stepped out. The two soldiers glared at each other for a long moment before Nickole spoke.

"The Colonel wishes to meet you." He frowned, "Follow me."

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"QUATRE!" Iria shrieked upon seeing her brother collapsed on the floor. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts, Iria. . ." He gasped out. "Duo. . .Trowa. . . oh, Allah. . ."

The older sibling knelt by the younger, "Quatre, it's your empathy, isn't it?" The boy nodded, still trying to gasp for air. "Tell me how I can help you. . ."

Quatre shook his head, `There's nothing you can do. . . We've been betrayed by our own. . .' He thought miserably.

A strong embrace enveloped the small teenager, pulling him close, "You knew that pilot." She said. "And you knew that suit. Huh?"

"Yes. . ." He whispered, his eyes sliding shut, tears streaming down his cheeks, "I do. . ."

"I'm sorry." Iria whispered, smoothing out his blond hair.

It took several moments before the traumatic empathic episode passed enough for the boy to climb back to his feet. There was a new look in his eyes.

"Quatre?" The young woman asked, taking a step away from him.

The boy turned and headed out the door, "I need to run an errand." He said, his voice different, darker from his usual light tenor.

"I'll drive you." Iria offered, catching his arm and detaining him.

The blonde boy blinked several times before a small smile graced his face, "Thank you, Iria." He nodded.

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Mr. Winner stood in front of delegates. Some of them were pacifists, others were board members and council members, and others were OZ soldiers and dignitaries. They all glared down at him and shouted accusations and threats.

"You are all out of your minds!" He shouted, "You want to govern yourselves, yet you want to fall prey to OZ's lies and control!"

"You are a dictator, Mr. Winner." A board member, one of the employees at Winner Enterprises, accused, "You monopolize the resources, jeopardizing the welfare of this colony cluster."

"That's not true!" Quatre's father denied, "Just because I will not authorize the use of resources for the purpose of manufacturing weapons, does not mean that I have with held them for anything else. You want peace and freedom, yet you want to manufacture the weapons that will imprison and oppress you."

"You claim that you're not a dictator, that this is a diplomacy?" An OZ general asked, "Then let us put it to a vote? All in favor?"

There were no green lights showing support for Mr. Winner.

The officer smirked, as Mr. Winner adapted the physique of a beaten man, "All opposed?"

The red lights signaled his doom.

Mr. Winner left the forum and headed to the only place he could think of. "You won't be manufacturing weapons using my satellites." He swore.

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The streets were filled with rioters, all screaming against the Winner name.

Iria led Quatre through back allies and away from the mobs.

"What's going on here?" Quatre demanded as he tried to catch his breath.

Iria shook her head sadly, "The people don't think that we should own the resources, that we're stealing them away from the people."

"But that's not true!" Quatre protested, "We've always given most of the resources back to the people!"

"I know, and they know." Iria nodded, "but they still feel that we're being dictators."

"That's so wrong. . ."Quatre frowned, "We've always done the right thing, and nothing but the right thing. . ."

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Mr. Winner ran around the resource satellite's control room like a crazed maniac. He was pressing different buttons and turning different switches to free the satellite from its tether to L4. "I'm not about to allow you to use this satellite for weapons manufacturing." He said. "I will destroy it before that will happen!"

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They were in the elevator that connected the satellite to the colony, when Iria received a phone call. "Father's disconnecting the satellite!" she exclaimed.

"He can't!" Quatre protested. "We have to stop him!"

Iria grabbed her brother's arm, "Come on, Quatre!" She yelled, pulling on his arm, "We can find a shuttle over this way. . ."

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Soon the siblings were in a shuttle headed for the satellite.

"Father, what are you doing?" Iria demanded, as her little brother piloted the shuttle, trying to avoid the weapons fire from L4.

"I'm not going to allow this satellite to fall into OZ's hands."

Quatre shook his head, "But they're going to destroy you, please escape!"

"Quatre, what I'm doing is escaping. I cannot live in a world ruled by OZ, but I'm not going to fight it. This is the only way."

The blonde heir's eyes went wide in horror, "FATHER! FATHER!" He cried.

"Goodbye, Quatre. Please, promise me that you won't fight in those dreadful suits anymore."

Then the satellite exploded, and knocked the shuttle away. The siblings screamed as their ship was sent spinning. Quatre was thrown from his seat.

"QUATRE!" Iria shouted, jumping after him and using her own body to protect him. She could hear her ribs cracking and breaking under the sudden impact from her brother slamming into her. "AH-UH!" she grimaced in pain.

"Iria!" Quatre cried, fear and pain filling his voice, "Are you alright?"

The young woman forced a smile, "Sure." She said, before coughing up blood.

"OH, Allah. . ." Quatre shook his head, "Iria. . ."

"Father was very brave, don't you think so?" She asked, her eyes glazing over.

The boy winced as he felt her pain. "Very brave." He agreed, "OZ doesn't understand kind people."

"You are kind, Quatre, don't ever change. . ." She ran her hand along his cheek, drying his tears. "I love you, my dearest little Quatre."

"I love you too, Iria. . ." He closed his eyes as hers did, his hand stealing up to his heart as the pinprick of her death reached him.

Slowly, his eyes opened again. They were void of any more tears. They were void of any kindness. They were very unlike Quatre. "I'll make you pay, OZ. . ." He swore, as his hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a disk, "I swear I'll send you all straight to HELL!" Insane laughter filled the cabin of the shuttle as it drifted further into space.

The kind hearted Quatre was no longer on board.

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To be continued. . .