Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Choices ❯ One-Shot

[ A - All Readers ]

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing characters mentioned in this piece are not mine. They're copyrighted by Bandai and Sunrise.

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I have been sitting here in the driver's side of the jeep now for fifteen minutes, forty-two seconds, waiting for the signal that my partner is supposed to give me once he gets clear of the hazard area. So far, not an alarm has been sounded on the base to alert its soldiers to our presence and the fact that that alarm continues to stay silent comforts me. It means that neither one of us has managed to screw up yet.

My hands itch to depress the button that will trigger a chain reaction of explosions inside the base. My mind itches to feel the satisfaction that only a completed mission gives. Inside my chest, my heart is pounding rapidly despite my body being entirely at rest for- I glance again at the digital watch on my left wrist with its neon green display- fifteen minutes, fifty seconds.

Instructions had been clear. Both of us had only been given fifteen minutes to extract ourselves from the base, a minute and a half allowance for unexpected variables. A loose enough time frame for both of us, considering our skill and the type of mission.

Instructions had been clear. They had given me the authority to set off the explosives should my partner fail to meet the quarter-hour-minute-and-a-half timeframe.

More than enough time for both of us, considering our abilities.

More than enough for both of us.

I glance at my watch again.

Fifteen minutes, fifty-six seconds.

Focus on the objective. The mission's success is of paramount importance. All obstacles between you and your goal should be eliminated. Emotions are unquantifiable elements that should be eliminated from the general equation. You are a soldier and soldiers have no need of them.

Sixteen minutes, two seconds.

You never know when some fool would alter the course of the future. The only way to live your life is to live by your emotions.

More than enough time for both of us.

Instructions had been clear.

Fifteen minutes, a minute and a half extra. No more, no less.

The pounding inside my ribcage is almost painful. I ignore it and glance at my watch again.

Sixteen minutes, 10 seconds.

The base contains machinery that would enable the modification of land battle suits into space battle suits. Oz is starting to get ready to entrench itself into the colonies using the same technique the Alliance used.

The base has to be destroyed.

I glance at the display on my watch again.

Sixteen minutes, 20 seconds.

`It looks like we're both after the same thing.'

My objective is to regain the peace of the colonies. Whether your objective is truly similar to mine, remains to be seen.

Sixteen minutes, 23 seconds.

`We're both after the same thing.'

Soldiers like us are expendable. The war, one way or another, will exact its due from us. While people all around us continue to die, only one thing remains true and that is our objective.

Sixteen minutes, 26 seconds.

`Same thing.'

You said you never lie, Duo Maxwell.

Sixteen minutes, 27 seconds.

Prove it.

Sixteen minutes, 28 seconds.

Prove it.

Sixteen minutes, 29 seconds.

“Hey!”

A series of explosions light the night sky an orange red color and large columns of dark smoke billow out from the now destroyed base.

I try to move away, in vain, when a black figure hurtles itself to my side of the jeep hooks an arm around my neck. His face is close, too close to mine.

“D'ya miss me, Heero?”

I wrench myself away from his grasp and forcefully turn the keys in the ignition, making the jeep rumble slowly to life. I can still smell the whiff of his peppermint laden breath and I feel my nostrils flare widely, trying to catch more of the minty scent.

“You were supposed to send a signal through the line.”

“Was it my fault these things are flimsy?” He motions to the mangled earpiece still attached to the delicate flesh of his outer ear. “One of those guards decided to wrestle with me. Lost my footing somewhere in the hustle and thus,” He detaches the remaining pieces clinging to his ear, gathers them on his palm, and presents them to me with a flourish. I spear him with a glare, but this only makes him laugh.

“Idiot.” I mutter and shove the jeep into gear.

“At least this idiot made it in time!”

He puts forth another laugh and runs to the other side of the jeep, hauling himself into the passenger seat, his boots clunking loudly with the solid metal hull.

“Still an idiot.” My words float past him, smothered by his adrenaline-drenched laughter, and maneuver the jeep onto the main road. He starts a conversation which he keeps going all on his own and I find myself trying to tune it all out to concentrate on my driving.

Inexplicably, my breathing and heart rate are back to normal again.

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