Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Of thieves and Magi... ❯ Chapter 1

If there was one thing Duo Maxwell prided himself on, it was never doing anything halfway. If he was going to be memorable, then he'd make sure he was remembered-- hence, the wide purplish eyes he couldn't hide were joined by a long coil of hair that he cultivated. If the other Rats in the Warren were going to avoid him, he'd damn well give them reason to-- a few scars cut onto the right people gave most of the toughs second thoughts about messing with him in the dark.

If he was going to be a thief-- well. Petty crime was all well and good, but to be the best one had to be ambitious. And there really wasn't any more ambitious a target than the Citadel itself.

Thus it was that Duo found himself dressed in a hard-stolen set of decent clothes, mingling with the crowd of Workers at the back of the massive chamber and trying his hardest not to stare like he was moon-touched. It was a hard thing, though. The Citadel was impressive enough from the outside, arcing towards the sky above even the grandest of the Magi's manors, visible from all points in the city. But inside-- every surface gleamed with polished white stone and gold tracings and the faint sparkle of what might have been gems. The high ceiling was lit by huge, caged Glowers that probably used more power than the entire lower half of the city combined. And the people--

Duo caught his eyes wandering upwards again, and quickly reined himself in, keeping his head bowed low like the Workers around him. But he dared a glance out through the fringe of his bangs, looking out at the gathered ranks of the Magi.

He'd seen one, once, from a distance. He'd been hovering on the edges of the lower city, trying to work up the courage to go into the middle city to steal-- many years before, when he was still young and stupid enough to let himself worry about things like that-- and a troupe of men in black bearing long, wicked spears had appeared in the street ahead. Behind them had walked a robed man with the tattoo of the Magi scrawled around his eyes, and the whisper of a shadow that was his Shade hovering around his shoulder. While Duo hid, the men in black entered one of the Workers' houses and returned moments later with a child held roughly between two of them. The Mage had taken a quick glance, nodded, and turned away-- and the men took their spears and slaughtered the wailing child, without even a moment's hesitation.

They vanished back into the night, leaving the white-faced parents to watch the blood spreading on the stones of the street-- and Duo to fade back into the depths of the lower city, where he curled up tightly in his own corner of the Rats' warrens and shook until sunrise.

Finding himself glaring through his hair at the richly decorated backs of those before him, Duo forced himself to relax. Slowly, his fists uncurled and lay flat against the floor once more.

Will this bloody ceremony ever end?

Giving in to a frustrated mental growl, Duo concentrated on breathing evenly until he heard the rustling hiss of fine cloth moving, and the much-appreciated stop to the droning speeches that had been going up to that point. The Workers around him moved as well, and Duo eagerly followed their lead, nearly groaning in relief as his leg muscles uncramped from their long time of kneeling on the hard floor. He went forward with the crowd, stretching out his hands in the exact way they did-- and the first of the Magi came down off the platform they had stood upon, and started walking towards them.

The practice of begging for a blessing after ceremonies in the Citadel was long established, a fact that Duo was well aware of and perfectly willing to take advantage of. There were those among the Magi who didn't approve or partake of the tradition, of course, but those simply used their power to sweep a path clear before them on their way out to their carriages. But the rest-- Duo watched with carefully hidden glee as the first of the bedecked figures passed nearby, being patted and touched by hands on all sides. Never too hard, of course, since there were black-clad guards walking barely a step behind, ready to cut off any hand that took too many liberties. But for a person of Duo's talents, it would only take a light touch to dislodge some of the jewels that clung to the hems of those rich robes--

He barely swallowed a grin as he saw one Mage heading nearly straight towards him. His fingers twitched as excitement started to thrum its usual intoxicating pulse through his blood.

* * *

Some time later, Duo squirmed the remaining few paces into his latest hideout and finally let loose the whoop of triumph he'd been bottling in. Chortling gleefully, he fell bonelessly onto his blankets and pulled out his spoils, eyes gleaming as he inspected the glittering treasure laid out before him: five stones-- two of them the size of his eye, and of a similar shape, the others smaller and round-- and three crumpled threads of gold that had been trailing so temptingly from one particular hem.

He reached out a reverent finger and rubbed the surface of one of the larger gems, grinning so much his cheeks were starting to burn, then shook himself and scooped the prizes up. Casting a instinctive glance around, he shoved his bedding aside and pulled up one of the floorboards beneath it, placing the treasures in the small hollow revealed there. Then, he hurriedly pulled the blankets back into place and curled up on top of them.

For a moment, he simply lay staring into nothing in particular, feeling the presence of his hoard beneath him like it was a Glower tucked away there-- all bright and warm and hopeful, seeping up into the blankets and making him grin helplessly again.

Tomorrow, I'll take them to Solo. He can sell them, no problem, and I'll bet he'd even hold onto the money for me until I need it--

The light began to fade as his racing thoughts slowed, nightfall and exhaustion coming on equally fast now that the excitement of the day was finally draining off. Duo fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

He awoke with a gasp, instincts screaming at him, mind reeling from some unidentified dream terror. Holding himself still, he listened hard for the rattle of his hand-made alarms, which he knew he'd set on the way in, but there was no sound in the darkness that wasn't usual for a night in the Warrens. There was nothing to indicate that there was an intruder in his little home.

Yet his skin prickled with the sense that someone was watching, and the instincts that he trusted his life to were still shrilling with alarm. Slowly, he inched his hand to the side and curled his fingers around the broken handle of his knife, then tensed in preparation and slitted his eyelids open.

Black eyes stared down at him from barely a hand's width away. Before he could jerk away, the depths of them sucked him in, and surrounded him in darkness.