Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wherever You Will Go ❯ My Heero ( Chapter 13 )

With nowhere to go, Duo felt the depressing and very solid barrier of the crate behind him as he shuffled backwards, away from the men who were in turn, creeping steadily toward him.

Absently and with more than a little anxiety, he felt the growing throbbing in his wounded shoulder. It was now a constant reminder as to his current situation, and it hampered him in any attemptive escape that he should make. The pulsing pain that seemed to beat with his heart reminded his only of the last two mission's consequences, berating him on his earlier activity…More like stupidity.

Glaring at the two men before him, he barely withheld an aggravated, and not to mention a very 'I'm-tired-of-this-whole-situation' sigh. Only two to go, he thought rolling his eyes. Duo turned his head, scanning the room for anything object whether big or small, that would help him flee his current dilemma. Pity these guys aren't as useless and wiry, heh…

The braided boy raised a chestnut eyebrow, looking over each man as a hunter would potential prey - or threat. He snorted as he realised his earlier assumption was correct. These two were certainly far from being wimps.

Both men moved with their broad shoulders held strong and proud, thick-necked and sharp chins held high. As they walked - or more like stalked, Duo smirked - he clearly picked up on the smooth and almost sly elegance, demonstrating clear physical discipline.

Just a regular old Wufei.

Duo discernibly cringed as he weighed the odds of coming out of this tight spot unscathed as he warily watched them move around him; one to either side. Thompson took up a stand-off position directly in front of him, and Duo would have frowned but the for the smirk that still held his face in its hold. The door was now blocked and there was nothing to move around.

The American began to ponder with a more than a little twinge of worry as his shoulder pounded. Briefly he searched the wounded appendage's potential to do anything but be a pain in the ass. There was no such capability sought of, however, and his shoulder stayed a liability, hanging a little too limp and useless, supported by his side.

Opting for his gun, Duo quickly realised it wasn't an option at all, the majority being two versus one. Thompson and his goon were a little more better off than him. Maybe on a better day…

Hand to hand combat popped into his head, though again he clinched a weak fist as comprehension dawned on him. It would be an unlikely, and definitely very stupid move on his part. Though, Duo almost beamed, there was something he was very good at, but Thompson, as usual was in the road.

Staring past the oncoming soldier in question, the violet-eyed pilot checked the far door for readiness. It was as good as it was going to get, and with a certain finality Duo decided he was going to have to move soon, or be trapped.

Deathscythe's pilot bit his lip in thought and frustration, barely quelling the urge to scream. Things were starting to get a little more than impossible.

Then an idea occurred to him like a brief candle illuminating a dark room, and what he considered to be 'about time', Duo struggled to fight back a give-away grin.

Feeling the firm weight of the wooden crate behind him, Duo sat, making himself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. The crates, he noticed, weren't overly wide, so he leant back against the wall, withholding a gasp as his shoulder was jostled by the sudden contact.

Dumping his gun to the crate beside him, the corners of his mouth finally betrayed him, causing the American to grin in mischief. However, his eyes remained calm and devoid of any emotion, though they sparkled in the dim light.

Alright guys, you got me."

The young pilot backed up his plan by raising his arms in the air - a sure sign of surrender as waving a white flag. As expected, the firm but strangely comforting weight of his wrist-knife rested calmly against his arm, hidden inside his baggy shirt.

The tiny blade was small, and doubly concealed inside a vastly decorated sheath; hidden from plain view from anyone not meant to detect it. A sentimental and double meaning gift, the knife had been given to him by Trowa not long ago, and almost humorously Duo remembered just how shocked he had been when the Heavyarms pilot had given each of the pilots one. Somehow it had just never seemed like the Latin boy was one to give gifts, though gladly Duo had taken it, judging it as being an important asset to any one mission when it proved itself time and time again in other tight situations - such as this.

Thanks Tro…I guess you didn't need to be told about me and my usual waltz with trouble…

When Duo's hands were clear of any dangerous object, the boy frowned when Thompson laughed spitefully.

"You really think I'm going to fall for the 'innocent little soldier' routine? Hand the gun over, pilot. No sudden moves."

When Duo lifted not a finger, let alone made no sudden moves, the big officer's snarl only deepened, and he stopped walking forward. Vaguely he jerked his chin toward the gun on the crate.

"Now."

Despite his hurtling thoughts, Duo merely raised his chin in vague acknowledgement, though whether to the gun or at the spoken words, it wasn't clear.

He wants me to give him my weapon? Well okay then…

Picking the gun up, he held it out to Thompson, who had his own arm outstretched, now being only a metre away. As the soldier was about to clasp the gun, Duo let his fingers loosen their taught grip on his symbolic lifeline. The gun proceeded to fall solidly to the floor, when Thompson made no sudden move to pick it up. Instead, he raised a busy eyebrow in something similar to impatient amusement.

Duo laughed and shook his hands in small but indistinct effort to portray nervousness. "Oops," the American crowed, cocking his head to the left. "Sorry."

"Pick up the gun, 02." As usual, Thompson's only display was to snort, or sneer in derisiveness. Damn, if it wasn't for his ugly mug, I'd swear this guy was Heero's attitude reincarnated!

"Alrighty." Duo slipped off the sharp crate to the floor, letting his braid fall over his left wrist, disguising any movements he should make regarding the hidden knife. As his braid fell forward he looked down, dropping his hands to the cool tiled ground, crouching. The loose chestnut bangs that had slipped loose from his plaited hair blocked any facial expression he should make; such as the smile that was causing his lips curve and peel back from his lips.

As the American pilot leant forward, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet to reach the weapon, the cold and sadly familiar feel of a gun barrel was pressed to the top of his head.

"Like I said. No sudden moves."

You mean…"Like this?"

Before the other man had the chance to step back, Duo lunged forward. While he dove he drew the small knife from its sheath and extended his arm up, and then out.

The brief sweep caught Thompson surprisingly off guard, drawing a quickly swelling red line of blood along his lower forearm. When the blade made contact Thompson swung back, shocked, grasping his bleeding arm in what would have been a white-knuckled grip if it wasn't for the blood. He screamed and recoiled back like a once taught spring, and spun to lean heavily against a shelf on the nearby wall. It was all the cover and room that was needed to give Duo more than enough room to slip past.

As Thompson effectively blocked the other soldier's sights, Duo pounced up, set in a dead sprint for the door. But as the young pilot was about to reach the handle of the exit in question, a firm hand clasped his whipping braid, pulling the American backward and upright in a starkly different direction from his previous flight.

Pain radiated from his scalp as he was pulled, and still recovering from the pressure to his aching head, he fell back into the arms of his captor. Red and black dots shot like lightening through his suddenly hazy vision, and only vaguely he noticed his escape crawl away while he was dragged like a rag doll, back to his previous lodging; the crate.

In a matter of blurred time that seemed only like drifting seconds, Duo found himself again seated uncomfortably, his hands bound with cold steel cuffs. When his vision finally fully cleared, Thompson met his eyes with a look of pure and utter anger. The other man however - Ugvar as he'd read on his nametag in his brief retreat for the door - just stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms folded in a staunch pose.

Realisation struck true in Ugvar's eyes bearing more emotion that he'd shown in their very short meeting, and Duo recognised it as triumph in his coherency. He looked to Thompson promptly after, and saw that the arm was now forgotten. Thompson glared and cracked his knuckles.

"That'll be enough of that, 02," Thompson snarled.

Duo simply rolled his eyes. Despite his nonchalant attitude toward his newly acquired injury, Thompson's body was obviously slowly betraying his master. The injured soldier stood somewhat warily, a foot or so behind his partner. The gash, although not very deep, was long and now bleeding profusely, blood escaping the tight, cage-like grip his hand held. The American smirked when he saw the man was shaking, no matter how slightly.

Before he could take a closer look however, Ugvar steeped silently in from of Duo, blocking whatever contact or view he may have had of Thompson.

"You've given us a good bout of entertainment for the last ten minutes or so, boy. But obviously we're not going down that easily." The authority of the man's voice sounded for all the world like he was now in charge. And as Thompson somewhat sluggishly stepped up to his side, Duo knew it to be true. Thompson's tough-soldier attitude was the cover, the silent Ugvar now clearly the higher ranked of the two.

As Duo dragged somewhat blurry eyes up to meet those of Ugvar's, Thompson looked at his watch and jeered.

"Forty minutes. More than enough to pay you back for my arm."

Duo laughed, expelling a short breath in amusement and a sudden burst of pain. "Uh, let me get this straight. I just killed your brother, and you're seeking vengeance because of a teensy scratch on your arm?" He scoffed and leaned forward as if trying to make out the 'insignificant' wound.

Ignorance was obviously a dominant trait from the man in question, Duo realised, as he simply didn't reply and just shrugged, nonchalant.

Silence ensued after the American's last words, and it was a while before Ugvar spoke again, though when he did Duo found himself wishing he hadn't. Granted, he wasn't really listening to what they were saying - it was all crap anyway, but the glint in the man's eyes as he opened his thin-lipped mouth was something akin to morbid glee.

In an instant, rough strong hands grasped his arms, digging into the wound on his shoulder. Duo was helpless to stop the two as he was dragged to his feet, his vision threatening to fade as the grasp on his shoulders tightened to that of a vice. Barely, he noticed the bleeding that had slowed only moments before start up again and flow further down his arm as his knees weakened. Forced to stay upright, and braced by his shoulder even if he should fall, Duo struggled, suddenly weak, and fought to keep his head upright as black fog shrouded his vision.

No! he thought as everything threatened to black out, and slowly he pushed the pain from his impeding injury to the back of his mind, as he had been taught to do. It was not going to happen this way…

Duo painfully dragged his eyes upward as feet broke his concentration from the floor. Thompson stood over him, leering for all he was worth. Oh great, here we go…

"This re-" Anything that he might have said was cut off when an abrupt and powerful kick landed itself on his exposed stomach. Duo tried to curve inward after the impact; tried to clutch his abdomen as the wind was knocked out of him, but the bonds kept his hands unmercifully behind his back. In any case, Ugvar wasn't going to give him the luxury of respite.

Gasping, Duo fought for further breath as another foot landed hard on his ribs. He felt a solid something crack as he sucked in, where breathing suddenly hurt more than it should do.

He managed to look up at Thompson as another blow flew forward, this time toward his face. As the knuckly fist was about to land its target, Duo tilted his head to the left. A sudden jarring told him the blow had connected with his captor, and briefly he felt Ugvar's grip weaken, then tighten alarmingly. The American sagged in the strengthening grip when the movement further jarred his shoulder. He certainly wasn't going to make it any easier for them.

The officer behind him spoke with a dull tone of warning, unangered despite the stray blow. "Watch where you throw your punches."

Thompson just glared.

Smart ass, Duo winced as Ugvar roughly hauled him upright again, scowling with strangely cold violet eyes as Thompson cracked his knuckles. The taller man was obviously amused at the situation.

The pilot had no time to speculate over the present amusement however, as another shot to his now definitely protesting ribs caused him to lose what little breath he had. In a matter of seconds Duo found his vision reduced to a tiny pinpoint star as his world threatened to run away with his breath. Too disoriented to struggle, he let his eyes slip closed - too tired and in pain to do other than let himself begin to sink into unconsciousness.

"Heh, yeah, you did a real good job of getting out of the road that time. What about this one?"

Despite the man's words, Duo felt no blow connect, and somehow with confusion it never landed. Instead Duo found himself face to face with the floor; his head resonating from impact with a sharp object on the ground. A large weight accompanied his fall, and he was blearily glad to see he wasn't the only one slipping with gravity. The weight - a man, he identified, cut off any thought that he had however, as the limp body agitated his angry shoulder and objecting ribs.

Duo opened his eyes with disinterest, but started sharply as another man's body landed with a distinct finality directly in front of him - a bullet between his eyes. Thompson.

'…The hell?" Duo managed to mutter before the weight on his back was strangely removed, and he was rolled over with minimal pain. Supported by strong, yet strangely gentle hands for the person that they belonged to, Duo could do nothing but stare, wide-eyed in indecisive emotion as concerned cobalt eyes gazed intensely back.

"…Heero?"

"Hai?"

"God, what the hell are you doing here?"