Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Les Ombres Rebelles ❯ Chapter 1

A/N: Oh god, she started another one. Tack another year onto DB now.... Haha, anyways. Welcome to the obligatory schoolfic. Caution! This is NOT your average schoolfic. If you don't know why yet, you will soon. This particular story is as action-heavy as Deadly Beautiful (my ficbeast), but there will also be much, much more romance and it will be very dark and violent. After reading some of this, you will probably start to think of Deadly Beautiful as a bedtime story. Also, there may be parts later on that will not be posted on FF.Net for reasons you can probably guess at. They won't be essential to the plot though, so don't worry. You will also discover just how many swear words I can actually put into dialogue and possibly also narrative. If this offends you, then seriously, just get the fuck out while you still can. If that sentence made you grin, then welcome to the fold.

 

Couples: Yes, I AM going to tell you what they are this time! 1x2x1, 3x4x3, maybe some 1 and 3 hintage because I'm evil like that, and while Relena won't get the boy, she's sure as hell gonna get the girl. Maybe plural. RelenaxHilde anyways. Lemons ahoy. And there are some other extremely secondary couples that don't even matter that you'll see as you go.

 

Universal Disclaimer Blanketing this Entire Story and Any Offshoots: Gundam Wing and all of its parts and pieces belong to Sunrise, Sotsu, Bandai, all three, or something. None of it belongs to me, I don't pretend that it does, and I am merely doing this to waste my own time. I'm making no money from this endeavour and wouldn't accept any if it was offered. Thank you and goodnight.

 

STORYTIME!!

 

Les Ombres Rebelles - Chapter One

 

by danse

 

~*~

 

Quatre sat across from his new roommate, studying him as he ate scrambled eggs. There was a spot of ketchup near the corner of his mouth, and a fuzzy halo of hair that was working its way loose from his long braid could be seen against the light behind him.

 

“So,” Quatre said, stirring his cereal. “New term.”

 

“Yup,” Duo Maxwell responded, taking a mouthful of toast. “Another new roommate to alienate.” He grinned up at Quatre demonically, crumbs on his lips.

 

Quatre frowned back. “You seem awfully confident of that,” he complained. “You can't be that bad. I don't see what's so unlikeable about you.”

 

“I'm touched, Quatre,” Duo said, putting down his fork to lay a hand on his chest, over his heart. “But it's not really my personality that drives them away year after year. It's his.”

 

His? “You mean... your shadow?” the blond boy asked slowly, not really believing it even as he said it.

 

“None other. Yuy's a little... intense.” Even as the words were still coming out of his mouth, Duo suddenly tensed, grabbing his fork again and jabbing it up into the air near his temple. When he laid it down again, Quatre could see the small, feathered dart now stuck between the tines; he dropped his spoon in shock.

 

His bored expression never faltering, Duo picked up the steak knife that was still lying untouched on his food tray, holding the blade between his fingers and glancing quickly to the side before launching the knife. Quatre's head followed its swift motion and he watched as the brown-haired teen three tables over blocked it with a spoon before digging back into his oatmeal. It clattered to the floor, unheeded.

 

“That was just a return gesture,” Duo said, picking up his orange juice and sniffing it carefully before sipping it. “There was no way Heero could have let that through his defenses.” He smiled a little, going back to his eggs. “One breakfast down, eight more months to go,” Duo mumbled.

 

Quatre was severely unnerved.

 

***

 

The two students walked side-by-side down the hall, ducking through crowds of teenagers clogging the way as they went to the auditorium for the yearly welcoming speech. Near the door, they brushed past a very tall boy whose hair covered half of his face, and Duo saw Quatre nod almost imperceptibly at him. He sighed quietly as he reached out to push the auditorium door open. The inside was still nearly empty; they were early.

 

“It's not a secret, you know,” Duo said as they found seats in the back, on an aisle (at Duo's insistence).

 

“What?” Quatre gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence that could have won an Oscar.

 

“Don't play dumb; it won't work with me.” Duo flopped down in his seat. “You two don't play Tag. Half the school knows. That's not so important to me,” Duo said. He looked right at Quatre. “What I want to know,” he said, narrowing his cobalt-coloured eyes at his roommate, “is why you haven't been caught yet.”

 

Quatre blushed crimson and sank low in his seat, his hands crammed in his pockets.

 

The school that they and some two hundred other teenagers attended was a private prep school. It wasn't the ordinary kind, though. Theirs was a school where each student, upon entry to the institution, was assigned to a partner of the same age, who they would be forced to get to know in a manner unlike anyone else. The partners spent their school years playing a game called `Tag', and the slang students usually used for their partners (or more accurately, opponents) was `shadow'. It was a fitting name because it brought to mind images of a silent stalker who you could never quite shake.

 

The argument for this strange arrangement was that it would train the students to always be aware of their surroundings and never let down their guard, even when they were doing vulnerable activities like napping or taking a shower. It was true, too; traditionally, the students of the White Fang Institute were nigh on impossible to take by surprise, which was one of the many qualities that made White Fang graduates a hot commodity in the job market.

 

They took interesting jobs, too. White Fang had contributed able bodies to organized crime outfits, secret intelligence organizations, crack military assault squads, and terrorist factions worldwide. Still other graduates went on to become freelance bodyguards, professional assassins, and, occasionally, instructors at the school. It was a natural progression from a place where children were trained to become perfect killers.

 

The boys sat in silence as the rest of the school streamed into the auditorium around them, settling down in chattering groups. A couple of tame fistfights broke out towards the front, but they all ended unspectacularly as everyone was pushed into seats by everyone else. Duo absently blocked a neck attack by Heero as the stoic-looking boy walked past, mentally marking that as the second shot of the day. He glanced at his watch. It was only five minutes to nine.

 

By the time the numbers on his watch showed the hour, the room had settled down and a procession had started to walk across the stage at the front. First came five students wearing black armbands (three boys and two girls), known around the school as the Enforcers. They were like hall monitors who were authorized to use lethal force. All five sat in chairs at the far right of the stage.

 

The teachers followed next. There were ten of them in total, five of whom also made up the administration. Those five brought up the rear, all old men in white uniforms. Duo watched through half-lidded eyes as the eldest-looking among them, a grizzled old man who wore dark glasses and had one prosthetic hand, stepped up to the microphone. He cleared his throat, and a dead silence fell on the room.

 

“Good morning, everyone, and welcome to a new year. I hope you all got in alright last night and that your new room assignments are acceptable, because they aren't changing.”

 

Quatre wasn't sure how he felt about that.

 

“For those of you who are new to the White Fang Institute, I am the Headmaster. You may call me J. The people sitting behind me will be your instructors for the coming year.” As he introduced them one by one, Duo tuned out, whispering to Quatre instead.

 

“Look at Kushrenada,” he muttered. “Stupid prick looks cocky as always. I'd love to take him down this year.”

 

Quatre smirked. “You and half the school, Maxwell. He's untouchable.”

 

Duo was silent for a moment. “He's totally screwing Une.”

 

“Get the fuck out!” Quatre was scandalized. He grinned at Duo, silently urging a debate on the issue.

 

“Nonono, I'm serious,” Duo insisted, rising to the bait. “Look, they're talking now. Heads are way too close together. I saw them in an empty classroom once.”

 

Quatre screwed up his face. “Ewwwww....”

 

Duo looked at the front again. “Merquise and Noin are back,” he mused. “Wasn't sure about them sticking around.”

 

“Why?”

 

Duo grinned. “Heero terrorized Merquise so bad last year. He was in the guy's sword-fighting class.”

 

Quatre apparently couldn't have enough reasons to feel intimidated by Duo's shadow.

 

Duo was sitting straight up all of a sudden. “What?” Quatre asked. “What is it?”

 

Duo leaned toward Quatre, pointing at the girl sitting next to Noin on the stage. “She's new,” he said. “And hot.”

 

Quatre shushed him abruptly, because J was introducing her.

 

“... Miss Bloom, a recent graduate of White Fang,” was all they managed to catch.

 

“But what does she teach?” Duo hissed, having missed that part. “When will I be able to have a class with this heavenly vision?” No answer was forthcoming.

 

“Guess you'll just have to wait and find out,” Quatre said.

 

“I guess so....” Duo pouted.

 

J had a few more announcements.

 

“All freshmen will have their partners assigned tomorrow. The lists will be posted on the wall outside the office. For the benefit of the new students' understanding, and because I'm also sure that some of the older students could use a reminder, I will outline some of the basic rules of Tag.

 

“First of all, Tag is a no-holds-barred competition between you and your partner. The object is to be stealthy and use your skills to outsmart your partner. As you are in the same year, and presumably learning new things at around the same time, extra study and practice to try to gain an upper hand in the battle is not only encouraged, but expected. There will be no disciplinary repercussions for bodily harm you cause to your partner, unless you've clearly botched it.

 

“In the case that an attempt by you on your partner fails, they are not only entitled but expected to retaliate with all available force. This is how discipline is meted out: by your peers.

 

“There will be no Tag during class time. The teachers will be cracking down this year, and all class disturbances will be dealt with immediately and harshly. This is the only time I will say this.”

 

This wasn't news; because of that rule, Duo tended to use lectures to catch up on the sleep he couldn't get at night.

 

“The Enforcers exist not to prevent you from playing Tag, but to ensure that all students are participating regularly. The acceptable minimum of legitimate attacks is two per week. Of course there is no upper limit; we don't believe in holding you back. However, if one of the Enforcers discovers that you and your partner are engaging less than twice a week, you will both feel their wrath.”

 

Duo frowned and shot a glance at Quatre, who was blushing again in spite of himself.

 

People were starting to talk, hushed murmurs rising in volume all over the auditorium. J cleared his throat again to shut everyone up. “There is one more Tag rule that has been added this year, and I would like everyone's full attention while I outline it.”

 

Duo forced himself to listen, knowing that it was probably going to be important sometime.

 

“From today forward, if you succeed in an attack on your partner and it leads to their death, you will not be assigned a new partner for the rest of your time at WFI. This rule will be in place indefinitely.”

 

A pall fell over the auditorium.

 

Duo's heart raced. If I kill Heero... no more shadow? Ever? All the rest of this year and all of the next, I won't be hunted every hour of every day? He was having trouble absorbing the idea. He looked over at Quatre.

 

Quatre had all but collapsed in his chair, pale and sweating.

 

Duo had to sympathize. Besides the Enforcers always breathing down his and his shadow's necks, they were going to have to legitimately try to kill each other now. That was what J hadn't said, but it was true all the same: anyone who wasn't playing this new game to win was going to find their lives uncomfortable.

 

It was looking like an interesting school year.

 

><> ><> ><> ><>

 

A/N: Be a friend to the environment. Feed your friendly neighbourhood review whore.