Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Scurvy, Jolly Rogers and a Whole Lotta Booty ❯ The Zero Star ( Chapter 1 )

Captain Heero is almost the greatest pirate to ever sail the ocean. But will he be able to defeat his mortal enemy the Ghost Pirate Treize? Will he get more diet rum? Join the G-boys on their greatest pirate adventure ever! AU, shonen ai, silliness. Please R&R!

Author's notes: I'm currently editing this story. You know, just fixing all the little mistakes it has. Which happen to be a lot. If you wanna help me out feel free to e-mail me. Also, you can give it a review if you want. Oh, I'm not gonna write any new chapters until I finish editing it, but you can read my current fic "Murder and a Music Box." It's good. That was a rather shameless plug!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. But I do own diet rum so all you slushy lushies out there can back off!!!

Warning: General silliness and disregard for every character's sanity. Also, this is a pirate story so the boys are a bit shonen ai, slashy, whatever you wanna call it. But as my Shakespeare professor would say, "pirates are gay." Yeah, that was deep.

The Zero Star

A great expanse of water spread out before the pirate ship, The Zero Star. The ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, then dropped due to the curvature of the Earth. The sky and sea meshed as they met, almost the same color blue save for the random clouds that dotted the heavens. The three great sails of the ship filled with gusts of wind that pushed it forward to its destination, Palm Beach.

The Zero Star was an impressive ship, a large blue schooner with white trim. Some of the golden booty from the crew's piratey ways had been melted down and molded into the the name, The Zero Star, and they shone proudly of the port side of the ship. This beauty cut through the massive sea like a shark, fast and furious. People in every port town from Cape Town to Cancun were terrified by its very presence. Mothers would keep their children home from school, and grown men would refuse to go to work if The Zero Star was docked. It meant trouble, and at its mighty helm stood the greatest pirate to ever be afflicted with scurvy, Captain Heero Yuy.

Captain Heero was a legend in his own time. Never had anyone been so brave, so daring, so entirely lacking of human emotion than he. He had attacked more passenger ships, one being the Mayflower as was rumored, than any other pirate. And he came in second for collecting the most booty. The only pirate to ever outsmart Captain Heero was the real greatest pirate to sail three of the seven seas, the ghost pirate Treize. Captain Heero would gladly have killed Treize, had he not all ready been dead. This fact was what kept Captain Heero in a perpetually bad mood, not that anyone could tell since all his moods where basically the same.

At this very moment he stood at the wheel, the sea breeze blowing back his dark brown mane from where it usually dangled on his forehead. His cold blue eyes were focused on the expanse of ocean that lay ahead. He was draped in an outfit that startlingly resembled Captain Hook's. It actually was Captain Hook's, and he had picked it up at the deceased man's Estate sale, but he would never admit that. He would also never admit that he had it tailored to fit since Captain Hook stood a good six inches taller than he was. He reached a strong hand out to grasp his bottle of diet rum, because according to him even Captains have to watch their weight, but it came up empty.

"Trowa!!!" he cried to the first mate, and a rather tall, lanky fellow with long light brown bangs that covered half of his face appeared.

"Yes, Captain?" he asked, his voice emotionless. He was the only other human to rival Captain Heero for lack of emotion.

"Where is my rum?" the Captain asked, his eyes still focused on the sea.

"It seems to have tipped over and spilled all over the deck," Trowa replied picking up the empty bottle.

"Get me another," Captain Heero said turning the wheel the slightest bit to the left.
"Well Captain, we're out of rum. But we have some Coke if you'd like," Trowa explained.

Captain Heero paused for a moment in contemplation. "Is it diet?" he finally asked.
Trowa nodded. "Of course."

"Bring it out then," and with that Trowa disappeared back below deck.

He trotted down the stairs. His blue and white stripped shirt fit like a second skin, and the red bandana around his neck jumped slightly with every stair. He was also wearing a pair of white capris, and he would have looked extremely fashionable had he been a trophy wife vacationing in the Hamptons, but as it was he just looked silly. As he reached for a bottle of Diet Coke out of the ice box a voice spoke up behind him.

"Is he still mad?" it asked. Trowa nodded and turned around.

The voice in question belonged to a young Chinese fellow with his black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. He was shirtless and leaning back in a chair with his feet on the table.

Trowa shook his head in disapproval. "Wu Fei, you know the Captain doesn't like feet on his table."

Wu Fei rolled his eyes. "Well, the Captain's not down here is he?"

Trowa sighed. "You shouldn't even be out here. The Captain said you were supposed to sit in the corner and think about what you did until until we reach Palm Beach."
Wu Fei didn't like being told what to do. In all truth he probably should have became a pirate captain himself instead of a navigator, but it was too late now.

"It's not my fault we ended up in Haiti! The map was upside down. It could happen to anyone. And that whole zombie incident had nothing to do with me. You're the one who said we should loot the island instead of leave immediately. Which, by the way, was my idea."

Trowa conceded, that had been his idea. Although, in all fairness to him, he had no idea about the powers of Voodoo Priestesses.

Trowa returned to the deck, and as he handed Captain Heero the bottle of ice cold Diet Coke he asked, "when should we be arriving in Palm Beach?" He was anxious to get a bit of shopping done.

"Tomorrow morning," Captain Heero replied, and took a long refreshing sip before returning to the wheel.


* * *

Quatre Rabera Winner had never been so humiliated in his entire life. Well, scratch that, his name itself was rather embarrassing. But this was definitely too much.

Perhaps, I should have listened to my father, the young man thought, he was always against me vacationing at Palm Beach. In fact, he told me to stay out of Florida all together, but I never thought it could be this bad.

The situation in question that had Quatre in such a state of humiliation was one that rivals the time all the boys in boarding school gave him wedgies throughout the entire day. It was even worse than when he was stripped naked, and thrown in the fountain in the dead of winter, which happened after the wedgie incident. Yes, this was much worse than either of those.

Quatre was a towheaded youth with a cream complexion to match. He was startlingly beautiful. But while some might argue that this beauty was an asset, it wasn't to Quatre. For it always seemed to be the cause of trouble.

Quatre hung his head down in shame. If my father ever finds out about this I'll be disowned, he thought and a single tear fell out of his eye.


* * *

"You'll be hanged the first thing tomorrow," the overweight jailer in need of deodorant said as he threw Duo Maxwell into the waiting cell.

"Yeah, yeah," Duo responded as he dusted himself off. "Well when do I get my last meal? Because I'd like a steak with potatoes and lots of sour cream and butter."

The laugh that emanated from the jailer didn't sound promising.

"Here's your last supper." And he gave Duo some moldy bread and a big glass of brown liquid.

Duo looked in disgust at the meager meal before him. "You could have at least given me some rancid meat to go with it!" he called, but the jailer was already out of range.

Things did not look good for the cat burglar with the chestnut braid. He had been caught trying to steal a very large and very expensive diamond necklace from a millionaire's wife's jewelry box, and now he was on death row. Duo laid back on the cot and focused his violet eyes on the ceiling.

This is way worse than that time I accidentally ended up in Haiti and pissed off that Voodoo priestess, he thought. I'd rather deal with zombies any day.

As Duo lay there he contemplated his life. Maybe I should have gone straight when I had the chance. I could have opened up a little bait shop in Key West, and sold crappy souvenirs at an inflated price to gullible tourists. He smiled at this thought, but then shook his head. In truth, he never would have moved to Key West to open a bait shop. The thrill of stealing was in his blood. After all, he was once a pirate.

"Oh well," he sighed. "I guess my time is finally up. I just wish I could have been out on the open sea one last time." Duo carried this thought as he drifted asleep. Things did not look good at all.