Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Inter-Mission ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Author: Kairu

Title: Inter-Mission

Rating: R

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, bad language, shounen-ai

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Gundam Wing cast. I do not own any of the E's cast. Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency Sunrise ANB, Yoshiyuki Tomino, and Hajime Yatate. E's is property of Enix and Satoru Yuiga.

Beta-reader: trowacko (Thank you very much!)

Chapter 1.

Quatre coughed, trying to figure out what was slopping about his face and making his throat raw, and cried out when it was pushed more fully into his face. His own voice came out bubbling to his ears and he jerked his face away, coughing.

Water ran down his face in streams and he shivered. His bangs hung down over his eyes in a solid fringe, dripping water and blocking his vision. An odd, repeating sound came to his ears. He struggled to place it. Seagulls?

He tried to sit up, and found his arms didn't want to respond, leaden, as if weighted down. He lifted his head only to get another face-full of water. He hacked and coughed; his throat was painful, and he grimaced at the nasty taste it left in his mouth. It was salty, but so incredibly salty it was pushed right into horrid.

He tried to move his feet, only to find his legs unresponsive. Whatever he was lying on was rough, ungiving and uncomfortable. And cold. Looking straight downwards, it looked like dark, slime-covered rock. He heard splashing above the gentle hiss of the water around him, and coughed again as the water came at his face.

"A person!" cried a high-pitched voice to his left, and he turned his head only to meet another wave of water. Crying out in panic and anger, his voice sounded like a ragged croak.

"You're alive!" he heard the voice cry, feeling someone beside him. Warm fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled. He tried to help push himself towards the pulling, but his body might as well have detached itself from his head. Another wave struck the side of his face.

The other person cried out as their fingers slipped off his wrist and he heard a loud splash.

"Help," Quatre croaked out, managing to move his fingers.

"I'm not strong enough!" his would-be savior cried helplessly. "Stay there! I'll be back!"

Another wave hit him as Quatre wondered where he could possibly go to, and found his lower lip quivering uncontrollably. His teeth were chattering. He could faintly see his breath. He tried to shift so he could get his face away from the waves. The seagulls kept squealing overhead, with the ocean hissing waves forward at him.

How did I get here? he wondered. I was...I was trying to run away; the missiles were about to explode. Heero had just made it out of the bunker.

He recalled the tremor under their feet, followed by the pulse of released, traveling energy that had battered into his Gundam. After that...there was just the ocean trying to drown him.

I hope the other person is coming back. He was shivering so hard his jaws hurt.

Where were the others? He heard a seagull quite nearby and lifted his head to see a pair of bright yellow, three-toed, webbed feet and stick-like legs on a rock before his head. Tilting his head to see beyond the fringe of his hair, his eyes took in a plump, white-feathered chest and gray wings before another wave washed over his face.

Quatre lost time. One moment he was in wonder about the seagull, the next, hands were touching him. Strong arms lifted his body up off the rocks and away from the relentless waves. He distantly felt himself being carried, arms wrapped about him securely. He opened haze-filled eyes, blinking salt and water from them, and seeing a blur of rusty red and black.

He felt himself stop shivering as a high-pitched voice murmured somewhere in the background.

~~~~~~~~~

Trowa was first aware of the fact he was lying on something soft. A little lumpy and not completely comfortable, but soft. Then it moved. He lifted his head to find himself staring into a set of green eyes.

He took a moment to look back down at what he was lying on and stared right into feminine cleavage. He looked back up to the eyes that were getting angrier by the moment, and tried to push himself up and away. His body failed to respond, and he failed to escape the hand that struck his cheek the next moment.

He was unceremoniously dumped to the ground when the woman under him rolled with the slap. Finding that his limbs would do nothing more than twitch as he lay on what looked like a street, Trowa had no choice but to endure the oncoming wrath.

"Who the hell are you?!" The woman stood over him, hands on hips, and feet spread apart menacingly. She wore white pants with a white midriff buttoned up the center. A magenta jacket and long, pale hair hung down to her hips as she glared down at him. A belt holding some kind of stick hung from her hips. She would have been pretty if Trowa wasn't distracted by the fact he couldn't do more than blink at her.

"No name." His voice came out strained and whispery to his ears. The ground was awful cold. His breath fogged.

"What?" the woman demanded, nudging his side with a foot. "Get up!"

Trowa attempted to rise, but his body only shuddered and jerked a few times. The woman hesitated at seeing this.

"Can you get up?" she asked, some of the anger leaking out of her voice. Trowa managed to slightly shake his head.

"Where did you come from?" she dropped into a squat next to him, tilting her head slightly to hear better.

"Don't know."

The woman frowned. "You drop out of nowhere, directly onto me, and you don't know where you came from?"

Trowa managed a small nod. The woman leaned down close to his face, staring straight into his eyes and studying them a moment. "Whatever you're on, I'd suggest you quit. It's not good for your memory."

Then she was standing up and looking back and forth along the street. "I hate when things like this happen."

She grabbed his ankles and started dragging him out of the street. Trowa made a mental note on how unpleasant it was to be drug across a cold street. Might be useful knowledge later. She dropped his ankles when she'd pulled him into an alley, and glanced around again.

"If you can't move, I can't just leave you in the middle of the street to get run over, so this'll have to do," she explained. "Good luck."

"Wait." Trowa was afraid she hadn't heard his weak rasp for a moment. Then she turned and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Where am I?" Trowa tilted his head back to view her upside down.

"Eastern Galle."

Trowa just blinked at her. "Where?"

"You're in the eastern section of Galle."

"Where's Galle?"

The woman frowned at him. "Here."

That wasn't much help. Racking his brain, the memories grudgingly resurfaced. The missiles. The ground shaking. "Are we in Michigan?"

"I've never heard of this Michigan," the woman said off-handedly.

Well, that wasn't promising. He stared back at the woman as she considered his immobile state, and her desire to be on her way. With a sigh and a great rolling of her eyes, she came back next to him.

"Why do I always do this to myself?" she asked no one in particular as she grabbed him by the shoulders to lift him up off the ground. A little more maneuvering of his body and he found his right arm thrown over her shoulders.

"You will walk," she told him firmly as he sagged off her.

Looking down at his legs, Trowa tried to put his weight on them. His knees tried to give out, but the woman pulled him back up. A couple more tries and he managed to stand upright on his own. Making his feet move was another accomplishment in itself. After a bit of being drug and stumbling, Trowa managed to get his feet moving in some semblance of real walking.

"Look, I'll take you somewhere safe until you're able to move all right, and then you're on your own."

"Thank you," Trowa said quietly.

"I'm Maria. What did you say your name was?" the woman asked as she helped him across the street.

"Trowa."

"Well, Trowa from Michigan, I hope you start remembering things pretty soon. Or you're not going to last long here."

Trowa looked about the street as they passed. It looked a lot like any city, but half the buildings were decrepit, with piles of debris and trash against the walls and in corners. Signs and wires hung low overhead, creating a cramped feel as a selection of people from all walks of life passed on the littered sidewalks. Nowhere did he see anyone resembling his comrades.

Maria suddenly led him into another alley, looking behind them. Looking back to his questioning look, she smiled. "Just trust me, okay?"

He nodded. He had no other choice at this point. The world suddenly distorted and he felt light as air. He had a sensation of flying while standing still. The sudden attack of vertigo turned out to be too much for him to handle. He felt himself falling.

~~~~~~~~~

Duo was immediately aware of something nudging him in the ribs. He tried to whirl on the intruder to find his view hadn't changed. He was still staring at a small pile of concrete rubble dusted with frost. Beyond that was a cloudy and gloomy overcast sky. He was shivering, and his breath fogged around his face.

He was jabbed in the ribs again and hissed, trying to yell his irritation and only sounding like a rusty door hinge.

"Hey, it's alive!" laughed a rough voice above him.

There was a delighted and much gentler laugh before he felt his head hauled up by his hair. Gritting his teeth at the pain in his scalp, a face moved into the corner of his vision. A girl with shoulder-length, dark, curly hair, dark lipstick, and a fancy, white leopard-spotted jacket was smiling at him.

"Ooh, it's pretty, let's play with it!"

"Too skinny!" snarled the rough voice. "And it looks half dead already."

"Does not!" The girl dropped his head, and his cheek hit the frigid ground. "And I'm bored!"

Duo felt fingers twining into the back of his shirt near his neck, and his body was hauled up off the ground. Strangely, his body hung limply; completely uncaring of the situation it was in.

Now Duo saw what used to be buildings. Steel girders, battered concrete and bricks lay strewn about as if some giant wrecking ball had gone mad. Some parts of the buildings had valiantly managed to stay standing like abandoned shells.

A new face moved into view, and this one wasn't as pleasant as the first. This man looked like the bad end of a PCP trip. His face was gaunt and his pale hair spiked up and backwards like Trowa's might if he gelled it to death and faced a high-powered fan. His torso was bare under a bulky jacket, and long, black shorts hung to his knees. Bulky, black boots rose up his calves. Typical skateboard punk; the look in his eyes was disturbing. Or just plain disturbed.

To Duo's left stood the girl. The jacket hung to her thighs, complete with a little beret-like hat that matched. White, high-heeled boots rose above her knees. Black, glove-adorned hands clasped together as she smiled at him, looking for all the world like a girl shopping that had just spotted the perfect outfit.

"Slim pickings," the man snorted, giving Duo a shake. "No fight in it at all."

Duo snarled at him. He couldn't punch or kick, but he had fight in him all right. He was not an it! The girl squealed in delight and the man laughed.

"Oooh, tough guy. Like that puppy you had, Sherri. What was its name?" The man looked to the girl.

"Kibi." The girl beamed. "Can I keep it?"

"No." The owner of the new voice was hidden from Duo's view by the man holding him up.

"Awww, Maxim, you're no fun. I promise I'll take good care of it!" the girl protested.

"Don't waste my time. Kill it."

Duo twisted, tried to force his muscles to cooperate. His arm moved, giving him a thrill of success, and he turned his head, spitting directly into wild man's face.

He was dropped with an outraged cry, hitting the ground knees first, and he shoved his hands forward to catch himself. His arms moved as requested, but lacked the strength to hold him up. His chin hit the ground a moment later.

Well, that's just great, Duo snarled to himself. I'm limp as a pair of Heero's dead socks and surrounded by weirdos. Well, Shinigami, if you got any tricks in the old bag, I could sure use one.

~~~~~~~~~

Heero snapped to coherency when he realized he was being dragged. Someone held his arms, holding him mostly upright, and letting his feet drag across the ground. He turned his head ever so slightly to see a black jacket on either side of him. Two escorts. He couldn't see faces so they were taller than he.

He grimly tried to recall how he'd gotten there. The missiles. The ground shaking. So they'd lost. He could feel the shackles wrapped around his wrists, trapping them together in front of him. He tried flexing his fingers and was startled to see they barely twitched.

The guards on either side of him stopped their movement, and a third person stepped forward to open a door in front of them. He saw ahead of him, through the door, what looked like a bed. He was dropped onto the bed on his back, and he saw the men that had captured him, finally. They were dressed in jeans with long, black jackets that hung to their boots. Hanging from straps over their shoulders were guns that resembled uzi's but he didn't recognize the specs. One man had a bandanna wrapped around his head, partially obscuring his face. They didn't resemble OZ soldiers in the least, only further bothering Heero. Who were they?

The door closed, leaving him alone, and Heero scanned the ceiling of the room for observation devices, only moving his eyes. He didn't hurt anywhere, but his muscles wouldn't respond. He forced his muscles to flex and contract, pushing the twitches to small jerks of his arms.

After forcing his muscles to the max, he managed to lift his arms. That's when the door opened again. Heero jerked his head to look at the intruder, ready to roll himself off the bed, and paused at the size of the intruder. The intruder was only about three and a half feet tall.

The door was closed by the tiny intruder and turned to look at Heero. A small face still carrying baby fat in the cheeks and a large, violet eye stared at Heero with a kind of awe. The child had pink hair that fell forward to cover the right side of his face, hiding that eye from view. Long locks that escaped his bangs hung down to frame either side of his face.

He was dressed in some kind of brown jumper with a gray cloak hanging from his shoulders. Heero stared neutrally back at the child, who hesitatingly stepped forward.

"Samuel." The child reached out a hand towards him. "You grew up."

Heero frowned at the approaching hand and worked on pushing himself up into sitting position. His limbs moved but didn't want to support his weight. The boy grabbed his wrist and he struggled to help haul himself up. Once sitting, the child stepped between his knees, placing his hands on them to smile up at Heero's face.

"Your eyes turned blue," he said in surprise, and Heero leaned back away from him. Heero had never known OZ to hire troops quite this young. The boy was likely under ten years old. So whoever had captured him couldn't be OZ.

"Don't you remember me, Samuel?" The boy's eye watered up.

"I'm not Samuel," Heero wheezed out. The boy brushed his eye dry with a gloved hand and turned away.

"Don't leave, Samuel. I'll see you later." The boy stepped back and went for the door. Heero stood up to follow him and his legs gave way under him.

"Wait. Where am I?" he asked the boy pulling the door open. The boy paused to regard him over a shoulder.

"You're back with me, and the bishop." The boy smiled brightly and closed the door firmly behind him.

Heero frowned and set about dislocating his thumbs. It was harder than he thought. He just hadn't the strength to pull hard enough. One thumb finally popped and he pushed it out of alignment. The second one came easier. His strength returned as he forced his muscles to work. With the second thumb out of the way, he worked on placing a foot on the small chain between the cuffs. Heero pried the cuffs off his hands, clenching his teeth as the metal caught his skin and took some with it.

The cuffs finally hit the floor and Heero maneuvered his thumbs back into alignment. Flexing his hands a bit and feeling the thumbs protest, he worked on his legs. Dabbing his tongue on the wounds on his hands to help them heal, Heero studied the room for anything useful.

Table in the corner. Too small to be useful unless hunting vampires and in need of a wooden stake. Bed and mattress with blanket. No help against the door. Rightfully annoyed at having to slide to his knees on the floor and use the bed to get his legs to support his weight, Heero was glad no one could see him. He was just getting rather stable in an upright position when the door opened again.

Heero looked back over his shoulder, feeling his balance waver. In the doorway stood an old man. Well, maybe not really old, but he was on his way. He looked a lot like a priest, dressed in a black, half-jacket, half-robe, covered with a white cloak. His graying hair receded back to the small, round cap that sat nearly on the back of his head. The face was lined with age, but firm and even somewhat unpleasant. This was a man used to looking stern.

Two men flanked him. One dressed similarly as the first, but in white, and without a cloak. The second looked like a guard. All three eyed the manacles on the floor.

"Who sent you?" the priest asked. Heero narrowed his eyes slightly. This was a strange method of interrogation. Definitely one he hadn't encountered before. It certainly didn't seem like it would be successful.

"Are you Mr. Kudou?"

Heero slightly lifted an eyebrow at that. Was that who the child thought he was? Samuel Kudou? If that was the case, was it wiser to lie or tell the truth?

"No." The truth option panned out better. Less acting involved, and Heero wasn't up to jumping through hoops at the moment.

"Who sent you?" the priest asked again.

"No one."

The priest paused to consider the answers. "Who has spoken to you?"

"A boy."

"What boy?" the priest tilted his head to the side as if in interest.

"With pink hair."

The priest turned and glanced at the other, obviously lesser, priest behind him, who nodded once.

"You saw him in person?" The priest turned back to Heero.

Heero grunted in assent. The priest considered again. "Where did you come from?"

"L1."

A collective gasp went up.

"The colony?" the priest demanded.

Heero nodded once, and the priest turned to mutter to the lesser priest. Glances were tossed Heero's way and the priest finally turned around.

"I am Bishop Ghibelline. What brings you to Earth and my humble church?"

Heero finally turned to face the bishop, putting on his game face. "I am on Earth seeking my companions. Your guards brought me to your church."

The bishop frowned, turning the situation over again. Good. Though it wasn't much of an upper hand, Heero had it.

~~~~~~~~~

Wufei was aware that his neck was uncomfortable. A moment more to really get a grasp on the situation made him realize he was half sitting up with his head hanging loosely back. What was worse, he couldn't lift it to relieve the pressure. He could feel his lower half resting on something uncomfortable like broken rocks. His upper half seemed suspended in mid-air. His shirt was also tight against his back and sides, more than likely what was suspending him. It was cold, and his breath fogged before his face.

He was startled to be roughly shaken back and forth, gritting his teeth as his head flopped back and forth like a rag doll's. That hurt. He tried to speak and found his voice strained through his windpipe as his throat were full of something. "Awake yet?" demanded a low and hard voice not far from his chin. Wufei rolled his eyes downward, or was that upward, and saw only the gloomy sky.

"Wake up, damn you!" yelled the menacing voice and he was shaken again. Now Wufei managed a snarl.

Whoever was tormenting him chuckled now. "Finally."

A hand grasped his jaw and pulled his head up, and though Wufei was grateful, he wasn't about to offer thanks. The face he met with gave him a horrible sense of déjà vu. It was the light blue eyes that he noticed first. The cheery color was currently like ice, the eyes narrowed to angry and menacing. Next was the platinum blonde sprigs of bangs that hung forward, nearly into those eyes. The third thing was that the face was possibly no older than his own. The fourth was the white cloth wrapped around the shoulders. The collar was distinct and the blue lines marking the hems gave that professional 'uniform' impression.

"All the other humans left you behind," the other boy spat at him with puffs of fogged breath. "So you're the only one I have to play with."

Wufei snarled at him again. He was obviously about to be a target of something bad, but he couldn't recall why. Trying to remember brought the memories back in pictures and short clips. Nuclear weapons. Heero had set them to blow, and the earth had shaken as they were disengaging. Beyond that, there was nothing.

The boy laughed and completely released him, letting him drop flat onto what was definitely broken rocks under him. Now Wufei was pissed.

The other boy stood up, and Wufei glared at the full effect. What looked like a uniform was a long jacket. Shiny, black boots rode up his legs to the hem. Some kind of armband wrapped his left arm. The overall look screamed 'uniform' now. But the sadistic smile on his face was hardly professional.

Wufei started to demand to know what was going on when he was suddenly flipping head over heels, and his back hit something hard and unforgiving. His spine bowed out of reflex to the pain, knocking the breath from his lungs. He hit the ground again in a crumpled heap. Okay, now he was pissed.

A skitter of gravel, and Wufei moved his head to see the other boy advancing on him through a graveyard of rubble. As far as Wufei could see from his vantage point, he was in the middle of a war-demolished town.

"Let's try that again!" the boy said cheerfully, and Wufei felt himself picked up off the ground by something unseen but incredibly strong. He had the sensation of flying through the air before he struck something else shoulder first, and a tortured squeak broke from his throat when something gave.

"Disgusting."

Wufei tilted his head from where he lay facedown to glare at the other boy. He was taken aback a moment to see the long, blonde braid trailing after his tormentor. He'd believe this was some nightmare if the pain wasn't actively making him realize it was real life.

"You filthy beasts dared to touch Shin-lu," the blonde snarled through his clenched teeth. "I'll never kill enough of you."

Wufei struggled to pull away as the boy reached down to grab his shirt. His arms twitched before the hand grabbed him, and promptly sent him flying again. He hit the ground on his injured shoulder and cried out in pain, all his muscles contracting violently to roll himself over. He shoved his hand up to clutch at his shoulder, gritting his teeth. A shadow fell across him and he rolled his head back to find the blonde grinning down at him.

A sudden burst of gunfire saved him. Wufei flattened himself against the ground and gasped to see bullet impacts peppering the ground nearby.

"More of you?!" the blonde demanded. Looking up to see the blonde was distracted by the gunfire, Wufei started to crawl. He still didn't have full mastery of his muscles, but they grudgingly obeyed. Pulling himself carefully along the debris, he was grateful to see no more bullets being fired towards him.

He pulled himself behind an outcropping cement slab that managed to stay somewhat intact, and caught his breath. Turning to peek out around the slab, he noticed an alleyway between what was left of two buildings. Looking back towards the blonde, he frowned. The blonde hadn't gone for cover. He stood out in the open, facing the source of the fire. As bullets flew towards him, they seemed to deflect themselves just before reaching him, as if they loathed to touch him.

"Is this the best you can do?!" The blonde was laughing. "You make me sick!"

Wufei started crawling towards the alleyway, hearing the gunfire pause. Then there was a scream. A scream that made his shoulders hunch. The gunfire started up again, drowning out the scream. Wufei grabbed the edge of the building wall and used his knees to throw himself forward.

Catching his breath, he heard the gunfire stop again, and another scream started up. A scream of terror that turned into agony. There was a sound like a cabbage being ripped apart, and the scream cut off. Gritting his teeth, he tried to push himself up to hear someone coming around the far side of the building.

He froze when another boy came into view. This boy had short cut, blonde hair and wore the same uniform. The boy paused to regard him. They stared at each other for a few moments, and then the boy skirted around him, walking past him with a curious glance.

Wufei took a deep breath finally, and pushed himself up against the wall. He fell to his knees again, and swearing at himself, he started crawling.

"SHEN-LONG!"

Whipping his head around, Wufei stared back at where the boys were.

"Where is he?! Where did he go?!" came the blonde's angry demands

"You have to return! Now!" The new voice was insistent.

Wufei looked back to hear another set of footsteps. A tall, blonde girl stepped into the alleyway from around the corner ahead of Wufei, in a modified version of the uniform the boys wore.

"Well. What have we here?" was the last thing Wufei recalled.

Author's Note: Every character given a name that is not a Gundam pilot comes from Satoru Yuiga's E's series. This is my first time writing for Gundam Wing, and the first writer for E's. I only hope I am doing both wonderful series justice.

Anyone interested in seeing what the E's characters look like, follow the links!

1. Maria: http://espers.homestead.com/files/Maria.jpg

2. Sherri: http://espers.homestead.com/files/sherri.jpg

3. Kyou (guy picking on Duo): http://espers.homestead.com/files/kyou.jpg

4. Raphael: http://espers.homestead.com/files/raphael.jpg

5. Ghibelline: http://espers.homestead.com/files/ghibellini.jpg

6. Shen-long: http://espers.homestead.com/files/Shen_long3.jpg