This was originally meant to be a prologue, but a pure Escaflowne fic project managed to sneak its way in there and gobble up my muse. It stands alone well enough though!
Perspective changes are signified by the break lines.
"BADEEBA!" Duo taunted. He doubt the word had any true meaning to the oz soldiers, but the tone was unmistakable as an insult. If only they had been stupid enough to give him any length of chain he would have pulled down his eyelid to finish of the effect.
"Kisama! Can't you shut UP for ten minutes?" The man, who Duo had already taken to mentally labeling him as Tweedledum, complained loudly. The pair of interrogators weren't the best he'd ever faced. Duo was almost enjoying taunting them in return.
The first guard's companion, a.k.a. Tweedledumber, grouched irritably. "Or at least say something useful."
"Funny," Duo drawled, not really paying attention to his "captive" audience. "I hear that a lot for some reason. Well, not the useful part, everyone's kind of given up hope on that. I was thinking more the shut up part.... I wonder if it's my approach, or maybe just my delivery. /I/ think I'm quite amiable anyway. I try you know. Hn, it's a good point though, it's been a while since I've brushed up on my talents and technique." He half turned to one of his jailers. "By the way you really shouldn't eat whatever you ate this morning cuz that smell can't be naturaOOMP!"
Duo curled up as much as the manacles allowed him. The blows the disgruntled soldier rained down on him hardly phased the pilot. (After all, he's known Heero for almost half a year now, if that wasn't pain resistance training, he didn't know what was.) Still, it was good to uphold appearances.
Besides, if they thought he wasn't coherent, they might not watch him closely enough to notice him maneuver a lockpick out of his now frazzled braid...
Before he could finish the thought, a flash of black and red pooled behind his eyes. The guards must not have thought his performance was convincing enough. Duo managed to catch a glimpse of something metal in one of the guards' hands, began to descend. He squeezed his eyes shut.
/This was going to hurt./
The world blurs out, and he's surrounded by the familiar smell of metal and oil.
A slow hot warmth surrounded him, the feeling seeping through his waterproof leather armor. His gundam suddenly feels more responsive, moving at his every twitch. The liquid metal around him, rippling. He somehow knew that it was relating his movement to the gundam, translating it to the machines own.
He felt oddly disconnected from his body. His hands, barely visible through the translucent metal, wrapped around a control and pressed one of the numerous buttons. Out of the visor he sees fire blast out around him. He hears a voice not his own scream from his throat,
"MOECHAEEE!"
Dilandau Albatou, second greatest man in all Zaibach, leader of the Dragonslayers, and youngest captain of all the armies, staggered across the catwalk of the floating fortress on unsteady feet.
Bile rose in his throat, and his legs were threatening to go out from under him.
/Not now, please/ He pleaded with his body. For the moment, it seemed to oblige him. He stared out over the clouds, down to the barren land between the wisps of crystallized air.
His cheek burned in counterpoint to his troubled thoughts.
Van. The name of his nemesis, his greatest reason for living now, for fighting. He'd scarred Dilandau's face with his sword. His beautiful face, his one link to his past, the one thing the Sorcerers hadn't twisted... his last shred of humanity and sanity.
"No, he's no opponent now." Dilandau whispered to himself.
That was no mere man he saw on the battle field. No, it was a demon in that suit of white armor. A demon that tore his life apart, that killed his subordinates, those closest thing he had to companions, one by one, heedless of their screams. Without remorse.
"Chesta... Dalleto... Guimell." Dilandau's stomach clenched painfully again and stars of pain filled the edges of his vision.
Reminded that he had little time. He pulled out the rose that he had carried with him, and tossed it, almost carelessly to the clouds and the barren graveyard of broken Guymelef parts below.
"What a waste, to die like that." He whispered.
"Hitori de." Alone...
A sudden flash of memory hit him. A small child, crying, whimpering abandoned. A gentle yet proud face of a beastman, kneeling to comfort her.
He slid down the catwalk's railing and into the arms of unconsciousness.
The dreams waiting for him were familiar, of battles and blood. But something was vaguely different.
The cradle of his guymelef is gone, instead filled with a chill and foreign gadgetry. He's held in by the cross straps of some leather harness. In the field of his vision, A large scythe, whooshed by, controlled by the wild steering of his hands.
Steering? Dilandau blinked, controlling this odd guymelef without a thought. No not even that, more like he's a passenger, looking through someone else's eyes. It reminded him vaguely of when his other half was in control, although not so suffocating.
Heat washed up and over him from the glowing green blades. Their scorching heat penetrating even the odd metal making up the bulk of this machine with every swipe through the air. A wild grin broke over his face, but when he let out his war cry, it was much different though was no less insane.
"SHINNNEEE!"
The feel of Shinigami raced through his veins, itching his fingertips beneath gloves he didn't remember owning, to making his heart race at unhealthy speeds. His mad cackle brought flinches and hesitancy in the blue guymelefs. Somehow he just knew that they obeyed him, weren't the enemy. The swell of fire and death cradled him like an anxious mother, urging him on. Allen Schezar's fortress burning. Duo forgot his questions, and gave in to the adrenaline and foreign urges.
He wasn't sure that he had a choice anyway but to watch.
<crackle> Duo, three more coming up on your right <crackle> A slightly nasal voice came up through the comlink.
/Duo? Is that his name?/ The monitor in front of him flared to life with the image of a dispassionate looking young man with dark eyes.
Instead of answering, Dilandau/Duo gives a gleeful cackle, his voice reaching a hysterical pitch. The young man on the monitor gave him a resigned look, but if Dilandau hardly noticed, man who he was watching certainly didn't.
The familiar feel of fire, adrenaline and near lust run through the body's blood. "Shinigami" the man's mind supplied as the scythe tore another guyme.... no a Leo apart. An explosion came from behind him, rocking the odd metal machine. A quick check on the sensors, revealed an OZ base going up in flames and Wing Zero flying fast away.
With a resigned sigh, Dilandau keyed in the ignition for the boosters. Old habits of competing with Serena kicked in and he tried to tear through the other's mind, taking memories, taking control. A block hit him..... /This was just a memory?/ With a mental frown, he pushed on and out of this replay of the boy's life, trying to find the real "Duo."
Another flash spun out before his eyes, quickly this time.
Four other young teens were sitting around him, as different in appearance and temperament as could be. There was a brooding silence around the table as all five ate a bland meal. Something was tense and was liable to snap.
Dilandau's first instinct was to stand up and shout, to give a distraction through fear, let them hate him now, for their sake later. He clamped down on the urge, unwilling to shatter the fragile memory, and curious about this boy who fought so much like him.
This "Duo" simply watched all of them in silence for a moment before coming to a resolution. Tensing his entire body, he utilized all his stealth, speed, aim and training as a gundam pilot...
... and launched a forkful of mashed potatoes full into the face of a startled Asian boy.
There was dead, stunned silence around the table as the Japanese boy slowly lifted his hand and wiped the creamy muck off of his face.
He stood up, and with a glare and without ceremony, emptied his entire plate over "Duo's" head.
The blond haired one began to chuckle softly, which spread to the man with a strange bang, and then to a boy with a tight ponytail. The braided boy gave an indignant cry and began tossing food with unerring accuracy at the sniggering pilots. With a squawk, all three retaliated, bringing the dark haired one back into the fight with occasional, well aimed shots of potatoes and bread. The food fight had begun.
Dilandau closed his mental eyes as a deep ache in his 'chest,' not knowing why. Just a vague feeling of loss, as the memory fades.
/Kami-sama, for a hallucination...../ Duo thought to himself. Skimming helplessly and aimlessly through the diluge of memories, he couldn't help but wonder at his own sanity.
He knew this wasn't actually happening.... More as if he was watching a movie, but forgot to bring his body along for the show. Instead he looked through the eyes of another, who's body felt... wrong somehow.
Another scene flashed by, this time catching his interest. Fondness covered the memory almost like a palatable skin. Four young boys in blue armor were kneeling before him.
"Dilandau-sama." They chorused respectfully, never lifting their gaze from the floor. Duo could see the tension in their shoulders though, the apprehensive glances that they shot one another.
Duo felt slightly sick and the mix of fear and abject adoration the Slayers displayed as Dilandau rattled off the days orders to the waiting pilots. No.... it wasn't that he decided. It was the fact he could have done the same thing to his fellow pilots.... He still could.
Playing the fool had given him more than enough chances to study them. It was hard to break old habits from the streets, of dominance and gang rules, and at first he saw no reason to do so.
After all this time, he knew how to manipulate them. Where to push, when to twist, what to promise. He could easily picture his friends, kneeling in the Dragon Slayer's place... adoring him through the abuse, even because of the abuse. He could make them feel that they deserved it, needed it.
He could see himself feeling that same safe, surrounded feeling that Dilandau had.
He knew he would enjoy it.
Duo didn't know if he felt relief or disappointment when the memory faded out as quickly as it came, leading to another part of the strange boy's life.
Mushroom headed, Dr G stepped forward, a syringe in hand, and said something about another round of training. How he couldn't let J's pet get better than his.
There was a moment of doubt, singing through the American's mind and twisting his stomach, but it was quickly quelled by the boy's personal demons.
A flash of Solo, still burning to the touch from fever, but the light in his eyes dying. Father Maxwell's and Sister Helen's faces, suddenly distorted with horror and ash.
He set his jaw in sudden determination, and curled his hand around his cross.
The boy rolled up his sleeve, waiting for the prick of the needle.
Dilandau desperately tried to give the boy some of the fear he SHOULD HAVE. Didn't this Duo know? What would happen to his body? What he would become? What kind of a puppet he'd be?
Dilandau shrunk back away form the innocence of it, unwanting or unable to accept that somehow it would turn out okay. He thrust himself again through the boy's memories, this time with a certain blindness, and without a purpose.
By chance, he brushed against a glimmer of consciousness, the connection. Desperate, he reached out and met it.
Three sorcerers scowled down at the young boy twisting under the restraints. A syringe is prepared. Folken's work would be nothing compared to the boy when they where done with him. Allen, his mother, his father... all flashing before his eyes, none of them were going to come, he'd abandoned that hope long ago.
Still, he screamed and wrenched his body, trying to avoid the descending needle.
Duo himself recoiled mentally, trying to turn away. He'd had his share of needles, but somehow this was more sinister. Somehow wrong. The other boy's fear wrapped him up and swept him away. He could feel a connection somewhere just beyond the edges of his senses. Desperate, he reached out and met it.
The fires burned again, spurred on by the similar emotions felt by the two teens. Meshing the worlds, the sorcerer's cold faces overlapped with G's bizarre image, they merged and melted, until Duo and Dilandau face each other, seemingly only separated by an intangible pane of glass.
Two pairs of wild eyes met, deep violet and ruby red. Childlike faces stared at each other, panting in the darkness of their rooms, worlds apart.
Two voices mixed, one choked and horrified, the other a soft sigh of longing, carrying to the others ears, even as their worlds ripped apart again.
"You're what I could have been."
TBC
Notes:
Moechae: Burn!
Shine: Die!
Nixers
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