Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Confined Spaces ❯ DGoD ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Gundam pilots, *or* the Gundams ::sighs deeply:: *or* any related element thereof, not counting show merch. For reasons why I should *not* own a Gundam, or Gundam pilot, ask Zolac no Miko. If you wish to sue me for any reason, you're outta luck. Sorry.

Notes:

At last, I've gotten this out of my head! Bwahahhaa!!! ::the masses shudder in fear:: the rating will most likely go up, and in my universe, yaoi happens, so get used to it, or get out now, while the gettings good. Don't flame me, just cuz you have your own ideas about the pilot's relationships, ok? Oh, and I really do love Wufei. He's definitely one of my favorite characters ever. Which is pretty much the reason for the torture. I'm all into s&m like that. *nods* oh, and there may be some OOC moments, but its all for the sake of the fic. Oh yeah, and theres gonna be some definite Relena-bashing later. In my opinion, this should be made an Olympic sport.

The room was small, and the room was dark. The pilots were cramped, and the pilots were antsy. It was a recipe for disaster before it even began.

They were hiding out after a mission, trying to keep a low profile. The majority of Quatre's seemingly endless supply of safehouses were plenty big on the stealth-factor, just apparently not big *enough*; at the moment, anyway.

So here they were, in a cramped, stuffy little room in an abandoned warehouse, with only a door and a barely-functioning air-vent in the ceiling, all care of one of Duo's "contacts". Who knew where *they* came from, anyway.

They had been there for six hours now. All five pilots. In a room. That measured roughly fifteen by twelve feet, had anyone cared to measure. Which they had.

"This room is officially thirteen by nine feet…I think." Duo finally looked up from his careful circumnavigation the room triumphantly.

From his place lying on his back on the floor, Heero rolled his eyes. "No, its not."

Duo blinked. And then pouted slightly. "Yes, it is. I've counted it seventeen times in the last hour."

Heero didn't even bother to turn his head. "So you're saying your feet are exactly twelve inches long?"

Duo blinked again, thinking. "Awh, crap."

Heero stole a glance out of the corner of his eye. "Anyway, I already measured it earlier. It's fifteen by twelve." He closed his eyes.

Duo slumped against the wall where he stood, pondering his feet. "And that was the last thing I could think of in the way of entertainment, too. Damn. Oh well." He grinned and looked around the room, an evil glint in his eye.

Heero didn't even bother opening an eye this time. He knew the crazy little Shinigami too well. All he hoped was that it was not he who was fated to be the next object of entertainment…unless…of course…

Heero smacked his internal voice. Omae o Korosu, he thought at it, vehemently. It just sniggered at him.

Meanwhile, Duo was still casting a conniving gaze around the room.

Quatre, though a bit more sedate about his methods, was already ahead of Duo in the boredom game, and had resorted to asking Trowa to have an imaginary tea party with him. Trowa seemed to be very busy trying to figure out how, and when, he had been taught the protocol, in all of his mercenary training, to deal with such a situation. His internal hard drive was currently threatening a Blue Screen of Death, impending.

Wufei, on the other hand, offered a somewhat more appealing opportunity in the field of boredom alleviation. The gleam in Duo's eyes went from signifying "Immanent Doom" to "Woe Shall Befall He Who Feels This Gaze." From his position on the floor, Heero could almost feel it. He shuddered. Internally, of course. Perfect Soldiers never "shudder"; they "Glare Ominously". Heero opened an eye for a test of this theory. A small hole formed in the ceiling at his Glare, and some Ceiling Dust fell in a tiny cascade.

Quatre sneezed and dropped an imaginary teacup, which shattered into imaginary shards. He pondered this with distress.

Trowa jumped, and glanced around nervously. He hoped imaginary tea wouldn't stain his jeans. And then he hoped that no one knew he had hoped that.

Duo made his way over to Wufei, who was currently meditating in a corner; eyes closed, and plunked himself down directly in front of him. Wufei cracked an eye open. His serene mental voice registered two words: "Oh. Shit."

"Hiya, Wuffie!" Duo's tone was that of bouncy friendliness, but the conniving glint in his eyes betrayed him. Wufei suppressed a wince.

"Hello, Maxwell. I thought I told you not to call me that." Nataku's pilot sighed the last sentence, beyond hope that such a thing as Duo pronouncing his name right could, in fact, be accomplished. "Don't you have some ceiling tiles or something to be counting? Some inner voices to be conversing with?"

"You mean like the way you talk to Nataku?"

Wufei glared at him.

"What, you think we don't know you do that? Dude, you gotta stop doin' that with your cb on. We can all hear you. You're practically romantically *involved* with that thing." Duo leaned back on his rear, calculating opponent damages.

Wufei twitched slightly, trying to maintain some level of inner peace; the idea of which was currently being overrun with images of poking at Dou with a katana… Or maybe Nataku's flame-thrower option. Boy, he loved that. Just flip a switch and its Aries barbeque time. Not that he enjoyed senseless violence, of course. It was just…damn, it was like OZ *built* them to be Gundam-fodder. It was almost unfair watching them sizzle like that…Almost. They were WEAK!! …and they all looked mysteriously similar when they went up, too.

He was just beginning to sink deep into a ponderous inner debate over the mass amounts of weak, unjust minions he was encountering lately, when something Duo was saying caught his attention.

"…yeah, and last week, Deathscythe was talkin' to me about how we should use more of those handy little flash-bangs under water, cuz, damn! The looks on those OZ guy's faces are priceless! She said it was lame, how I used that one on Relena that one time. What a friggen' waste. I mean"-

Wufei raised an eyebrow. "*She*?"

Duo regarded him dubiously. "Yeah. Deathscythe. Anyway, she was tellin' me how it was just a big freakin' waste to"-

"So you're saying you talk to your Gundam, too?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. But mostly she talks to me. In my head. While I fight. And sometimes when I'm in the shower." Duo grinned. It was a thoroughly bone-chilling experience. At least from where Wufei was sitting. "Yeah, like last week, she was sayin' how Nataku was tellin' her"-

"Nataku? You mean *my* Nataku?!" Wufei was suddenly sitting up straighter.

"Well yeah," Duo looked around innocently. "You know any other Natakus, Deathscythe?" He paused. "Yeah, I didn't think so. No, I'm not coming to play with you today. These lameasses have me trapped in an evil little room. No, I don't need you to come rescue me. Okay, yeah, you go back to playing checkers with Sandrock. Sorry to bother you."

Wufei was staring.

Duo continued as if nothing had happened. "Anyway, as I was saying, she was talkin' to Nataku last week and she said that Nataku told her that you seem to have been in need of deodorant lately."

Wufei stared harder. "ExCUSE me?"

"Yeah, she said that if you don't get better at your personal hygiene, that she's gonna upload Zero System and sic it on you next time you're dueling with Treize."

Wufei turned red.

Across the room, Heero was still lying on his back, making practice glare-holes in the ceiling. He had gotten to the point where he could aim his glare to hit right above Quatre and Trowa, causing them to have spontaneous sneezing fits as the tiny motes of dust rained down upon them.

Trowa was getting distressed. He didn't know where all this dust was coming from, but it was falling into his imaginary tea, and making it taste like…like…well, he hadn't gotten that far in his thought processes yet.

Quatre had gone through a whole set of imaginary China already, casualties of his consecutive sneezing fits.

It was taking all of Heero's training not to smirk.

Wufei was still glaring at the innocently grinning Shinigami, who was still talking. "Yeah, I think I'd be worried if I were you, buddy. Deathscythe was tellin' me how Nataku says she doesn't think you're strong enough"-

Duo was cut off by Wufei's sharp intake of breath. "My Nataku would never say such things!" he lowered his voice, as if speaking to himself, "Would you? Am I not worthy of being your pilot? I know I am not strong enough yet, but I will be! Nataku, I will work every day to become as strong as I can, so together we can wipe out injustice and"-

"Uh, dude?" Duo interrupted, scratching his nose.

Wufei glared at him sharply. "What?"

"That's kinda creepy."

"How is it any less creepy than your talking to Deathscythe?"

"I dunno. Just is. Maybe that's why Nataku's been sayin' all that about how your idea of justice is wrong"-

"WHAT?!?" Wufei's shriek was so loud that it distracted Heero, causing him to glare harder than he had meant to, and making a small chunk of ceiling land in Trowa's imaginary tea cup.

Trowa poked at it with distaste.

Meanwhile, Wufei was in full Justice Rant mode.

"How DARE you say such a thing! The very implication- the…the…INJUSTICE!!! You are WEAK! You do not know what a hard and long path one must follow in the pursuit of justice! One must become STRONG!! The weak should not fight!! That is INJUST!! You are WEAK!! WEAK, I tell you!!"

Duo regarded this and blinked. Up close, Duo could imagine Wufei's pores doing this little open-close thing when he ranted. It was really fascinating to watch. He wondered how Wufei kept such a clear complexion with all that opening and closing. All that dust and stuff that must get in them. And then there was his hair. When he yelled "Strong" a few hairs came loose from his pony tail and kinda…Duo thought for a moment, searching for the right word…*Sproinged*. Yes, they Sproinged. Sticking out behind his ears, and twitching as he continued to yell. Duo was almost disappointed when he stopped. Wufei was so entertaining when he ranted; especially up close. So Duo could see the Sproingyness.

"But it wasn't *me* who said you were unjust. It was Nataku. At least, that's what Deathscythe told me." It was almost too easy, Duo thought to himself.

"But she wouldn't- she would never"- Wufei spluttered. He was sitting cross-legged now, holding his knees to his chest, and as a vein tweaked in his forehead, he began to rock jerkily back and forth. "I am not unjust! I am the embodiment of Justice Itself!" he was muttering now, almost to himself. Duo watched and grinned. "My fight for Justice will continue as long as there is Evil in the world. Which is always. And evil is bad. Yesyes. Evil is bad, so I must wipe it out with my JUSTICE!! AHAHAHA!! JUSTICE! YES!! I must not be *weak*! That would be bad! Wouldn't it, Nataku? Just wait until I get out of this unjust little cubicle! We will persue our quest for JUSTICE!! The Weak must not fight! If they do, we will WALLOP them!! YES!! Wallop them with our JUSTICE!!"

Wufei had gained a steady rhythm to his rocking, and Duo would have hated to disturb this, so he backed away slowly, making a mental note to tamper with Shenlong's cb transmitter, so it fed directly into his cockpit speakers. If Wufei had added the word "wallop" to his Justice Rant vocabulary, this would be too good to miss.

Meanwhile, Heero had grown bored with disrupting imaginary tea parties. He had thus had settled for making glare-hole patterns in the ceiling, which Quatre and Trowa, growing tired of breaking China and pondering the effects of ceiling-dust consumption together with imaginary tea, were guessing the shapes of.

"I know! I know!!" Quatre pointed up excitedly. "It's a *tea cup*!!!"

Trowa also pondered it.

"…"

"…"

"…"

At last he spoke. "No, its not. It's a spy. From OZ. Sneaking into the Alliance headquarters and planting a bomb, before putting caffeine pills in their coffee, so they will all have aneurisms just as the bomb is going off. And he likes pepperoni on his pizza."

Quatre looked at Trowa, who was still busy contemplating the ceiling, wondering if someone would find the bomb in time. He hoped they wouldn't.

"You're both wrong. It's actually a self-detonation pad. See the button in the middle?"