Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Silent Revolution ❯ chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
Silent revolution: Chapter Two - Missions
Authors Notes: Thank-you for the Reviews. Please expect weekly to twice a week updates at the very least. The more response I get, the more motivated I will be to continue this project (despite mounting coursework ._.)
Chapter Two:
Flashback
Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep.
He let out a groan, eyes slipping closed as the tell-tale beep of a laptop could be heard throughout the thin walls of the near-on derelict house, letting all of its current residents know that at least one, if not more of them were receiving the details of a new mission.
Turing the dial down with reluctant fingers, he shut off the stream of hot water gently pounding down on him from the old, rusting showerhead, stopping the pleasant spray with a dull clanking noise, switching first to a small trickle before settling on a steady drip.
He lent forward on his hands. Slender, pale fingers splayed on the cracked and grimy tiles that may have once been terracotta, or perhaps a lovely shade of mustard considering the interior of the rest of the house. He allowed himself a brief moment of bitterness and regret.
This pace wasn't good for any of them. Even if one were to disregard that they were teenagers-still children in the eyes of so many, such an unending, unforgiving pace-the missions one after the other, the hiding, the fighting, the training, the lying- it was wearing them-all of them, far too thin. Such a pace can only be sustained for so long.
“Damnit” He cursed, scrubbing at his pale, elfin face with both hands before fumbling with one hand for the handle to the sliding glass shower door. It always stuck half way, he knew, and so, reaching for the towels he had left folded on the toilet seat, dried off where he was standing. One thin, threadbare towel quickly covered his lower-half, hanging from slender, scar-mottled hips, leaving droplets of water to run down his pale, toned stomach, seeping into the faded, once-black cloth.
He ran his fingers through his hair, now brushing the tops of his thighs. He winced as he hit the odd snag on his way, before sweeping the chestnut mass up into the softer, fluffy, well-kept of the two towels, drying it with quick, careful practiced precision.
He ignored the chipped mirror as he passed it. Making his way across the cool, cracked limonene floor, he made sure to clean up after himself as he left. Heaven forbid if, when Mr. Perfect Soldier Yuy or Kanata-up-his-arse Chang found so much as a droplet of water on the floor or a towel out of place when they next graced the bathroom with their presence.
He made his way into the room he had claimed as his own the previous week, knowing that none of the other pilots were still up there, he could hear the low murmur of talk coming from the living room, up through the floorboard, and the faint whistling of a kettle boiling. An obvious giveaway of his comrades' locations.
He disabled the alarms and booby-traps he had set on his door and in various locations around his temporary room, before clicking the door closed behind him. He could be more anal about security than even Heero was, if given the chance.
It was the first time in months that he had had a space of his own, without having to share with one of the other pilots, or a room full of students if on an undercover mission, or even on the sofa. It had become more than a little uncomfortable when they had paired off, well, when it came to sleeping arrangements at least.
“At least I don't have to share a room with Heero anymore” He thought wryly, letting his towel drop to his feet as he shimmied into a pair of comfortable, faded black jeans. “I mean, he's a great guy an' all-but sheesh-I don't know how Fei puts up with the third-wheel in their relationship. I could barely sleep cause of him and that damned thing! There again, I suppose Fei spends just as much time with that sword of his as Hee-chan does with his laptop. There is something seriously wrong with those boys.”
Pulling on his usual priest shirt, he braided his hair with nimble fingers, wringing what he could of the moisture out of his hair as he went.
“There again, sleeping on the couch in the living room in that last place was just goddamned awful” The others traipsing through at all hours of the day and night, staying up until the early hours watching the television, preventing him from getting a good nights sleep, getting up early and awakening him the minute they set foot into the room. Sheer hell.
Fixing an impish grin on his face, violet-indigo orbs sparkling, he prepared himself. He took a deep breach, before descending the stairs noisily.
“I knew that this vacation they gave us was too good to be true!” He moaned, strolling into the room, arms behind his head, stretching. His still damp hair left a wet patch on his shirt, limp bangs falling into his eyes. The jokers mask was out in full force, as he muttered darkly under his breath “Stupid god-dammed scientists, stupid fucking Shinigami-damned-missions!”
The other four pilots, already present, ignored the braided pilots' first comment, not hearing his second.
Heero, wearing his ever-present forest green tank top, black spandex shorts and vile mustard-yellow and white sneakers, had stationed himself on one of the two centre-seats of the four-seater worn and sagging couch. Chocolate hair, tousled as always, fell even messier than usual, partially covering alert, focused cobalt eyes-no trace of their earlier sleepiness still present whatsoever.
His lover sat rigidly beside him, caramel, calloused fingers reaching up to tighten his raven shoulder-length ponytail-hair, as usual, slicked back and tied tightly as it was. Only orbs; focused, determined. He brought his hands down to rest loosely on his thighs, fingers curled gently towards his palms. Every now and then, they would twitch, as though eager to reach for his readily available sword or gun. He wore his favoured loose white pants, secured tightly at his waist by a soft, cotton black belt. Comfortable black Chinese-spillers adored his dainty feet. He had, however, forgone his usual, comfortably fitting navy tank top. Instead, his upper body was encased in a looser, worn forest green tank top, belonging to his lover-the first top that had been at hand. He had been practicing his martial arts when he had bearded the beeping of a mission alert going off.
Quatre sat at the far end of the couch, legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees, arms reaching up to hug himself. Aqua-marine eyes took on a glazed appearance as he stared vacantly, porcelain-pale skin and angelic, wheaten hair glowing in the flickering florescent light of the living room. He wore a simple pair of tan slacks with a loose baby pink shirt. He hadn't had the time to search for his usual deep purple waistcoat.
In some ways, it was all so much more stressful for him. He had to endure it all-all of their pain, their fear, their anger, their anxiety. It all overwhelmed him at times. The stress-it was unimaginable for them-for those who had never had to experience it, never had to endure it.
He blinked, dazed, as he came back to himself. A slender, long-fingered hand appeared in his line of vision.
A ceramic mug-lilac, with an emerald butterfly on the handle, came into focus next, held steady in a firm, sure grip. He took the mug automatically, eyes travelling up the long, blue sweater-no, the turtleneck clad arm. He smiled softly as he met the emerald eyed gaze of his lover, his face-half obscured by his deep brown bangs, gazing down at the Arabian teen with an unusual level of gentleness in their depths.
The taller, elder teen wore a simple navy turtleneck with tight white jeans and fitted black boots. He held a tray in one hand, at shoulder-height, fingers splayed beneath to keep it steady. Still remaining on the chipped tray were Heero, Wufei and his own mugs - a pure white and silver mug with a blue and onyx dragon curving around the base, a midnight blue with silvery angel wings framing the sides, and a forest green with a small, pink fluffy kitten dozing beneath the lip of the mug.
All four had their attention focused on the cause for all of the commotion. Sitting on the centre of the low, wobbly coffee table sat a slim, sleek silver laptop, glowing brightly in the dimly lit room.
“Late as usual, Maxwell.” Wufei sniped as the braided pilot sauntered in.
He had learned to ignore such comments. Just like he had learned not to expect the smallest common courtesy from his team-mates. He made his way into the kitchen, snagging a bottle of water from the battered, faded refrigerator. He winced, barely catching himself on the cracked countertop, as he slipped on the grimy, cracked linoleum floor. He let out a small sigh.
“That's another job for me, then, if we aren't getting moved on already.”
They had been hiding out in their current safe house, `on vacation', as both Duo and the mad five had put it, for almost three weeks.
Duo had been the first to arrive, due to an unforeseen opportunity that had presented itself to him during his solo mission, allowing him to complete his objective three days ahead of schedule. To his joy and amusement, this had left him-after an initial day of rest and recovery, several days to set traps, plan pranks, and move things from one room to another, to his fellow pilots' bad luck an annoyance.
What they hadn't noticed, however, was the most important of his actions-those that he had spend the majority of his time doing before their arrival. No-one noticed the mismatched, slightly askew wooden step leading up the front door-the only one on the small flight of steps that didn't cream or groan ominously when so much as a butterfly dare breathe on them. No one noticed the unsightly, but safely patched hole in the ceiling of the bathroom, nor the distinct lack of mouse-droppings despite the evidence that the little buggers had recently been nibbling on the couches at the very least.
He didn't mind, though. That they didn't notice. If they hadn't noticed such blatantly obvious things-to those with the training that they had had, at any rate- then it would be unlikely that they had noticed the other things. Such as the number of books missing from the pitifully small library that one of the three back cupboard-like rooms had become. On one of his many library raids, he had `borrowed' as many books as he could hide securely in the tiny single-bed room that he had claimed as his own.
He had known that the others would rather share a room with their respective partners. And so, to make the inevitable order for him to move out of a double room that he would usually share with Heero, easier on all parties involved, he had taken the initiative, and set up residence in the tiny, single-bed room on the far end of the upper story of the house. Not that it would have been hard on them, per say. But he knew that, after such a confrontation, that Heero would be even colder and more distant with him, if he even choose to address him at all. Wufei, too, would feel uncomfortable and guilty about his lovers' lack of tact when dealing with the issue, and would, therefore, deal with his own discomfort and guilt by becoming more waspish and sharp, when addressing the braided American teen over the next week or so.
It was so much easier this way, anyway. Now all he had to do, whenever he wanted to read or have some quiet time to himself, was to blast one of his old metal cd's from his small, battered stereo-a gift from one of the sweepers he had saved a few months back from a slight accident with faulty lifting equipment and a rogue Taurus arm- and the other pilots would avoid his room like the plague.
“Mission details, Yuy?” Wufei asked, glaring over at Duo as he re-entered the room, draping himself over the only remaining seat-off to one side, a small armchair. His eyes softened as he turned back to face his lover.
“Infiltration mission. All five pilots required. Two gundams only. 12 will be split into three groups. 04 and I will provide a distraction, should you be detected. 03, your job will be to gain access into the computer mainframe, located here” Heero indicated to an area of the base on the blueprints that he had pulled up on his laptop.
“And retrieve the required date. You will also infect the system with several viruses that J has sent us-from G, according to the specs. A few prototypes he wants to have tested. This should keep them busy. 05, you will accompany 03. After the data has been retrieved, you shall both continue on to this location” he zoomed in on one part of the blueprints. “To target two visiting individuals; Kushrenada and Marquise. You are then to immediately leave the base. Head towards the woods surrounding the compound, where three bikes will be hidden for each of you. 05, 03, and…02.”
Four heads turned to face the fifth pilot who sat by himself, lounging on the sagging, aged chair, a bottle of water nursed in-between his hands. In unison, they turned back to face the screen. Each re-read the mission plans, praying that they had been mistaken.
Heero, glare not at full force, continued. “02, your job is to plant the explosives around the base, distract the guards headed for 03 and 05, and to not mess up.”
He addressed everyone. “This could be our last mission if everything goes according to play. I don't want any screw-ups” He warned.
All eyes turned to Duo.
Duo merely grinned back at them all innocently. “Who, me?”
To be continued
Authors' notes: has anyone got any fanfics recommendations? I'm a little bored waiting for updates xD I've read all of littlemouses & Ryoko21s & rogue11's fics—truly amazing. Has anyone got any good Yaoi Gundam Wing, Naruto, Death note, yugioh, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, crossovers or BtVS recommendations? (pref. over 10k word length xD The longer the better) Thank-you!