21-Jul-2003
Title: Identity: 4/?
Author: Elemental
Rating: R for Violence
Genre: Drama/Action
Archive: GW Addiction
Pairing: 1+2 2+5 1+2+5 (Eventually)
Warnings: OC pov that switches (Painlessly, I promise) Violence, Swearing and Gang warfare.
Blurb: DEATH! SWEARING! um... thats about all the warnings you need for this one.
Contact: Writerz_bloc@yahoo.ca is a good choice, or you can hit my new Livejournal, just for writing stuff. http://www.livejournal.com/users/elemental_fic/
The amount of feedback I get is directly proportional to how quickly I write more- (hint hint).
~ I am the Breeze of Wisdom, I am the Wind of Insanity~
The Elemental
I cracked the code.
I'm making it sound a lot easier than it was. Between waking Max up every hour, jumping at the sound of sirens floating down the street, and making sure I didn't fall asleep myself, I hacked into his laptop.
I wish I hadn't.
Duo knew he was hurt, could feel the throb of his shoulder in time to his heartbeat. He felt so cold, but there were heavy blankets across his chest. He was fevered. Infection, from the sewers, he guessed. His head ached too, a duller throb accompanying his shoulder. He didn't know why. He didn't remember hitting it.
There was some luck, he thought. Heero had found him, was looking after him; waking him, keeping him company. Duo knew Heero was worried about a concussion. He must have hit his head, hard.
With Heero here, he didn't have to worry. He simply had to rest, and focus on getting better. To be a liability to the others for the least possible amount of time.
Until then... Duo dreamed.
He thought I was H'ro. I don't know who that may have been, but it meant he responded to me, and that's all I cared about.
Gundam Pilot.
'Max' was a Gundam Pilot.
A god-dammned, fucking Gundam Pilot.
Well. This was a fair crop.
So the computer wasn't full of hard facts. I didn't have the names of the other pilots, for one. Max used numbers whenever he mentioned them.
I didn't understand another three-quarters of the info on his hard drive. Most of it was technical garbage that was like looking at an encrypted message without the key; I was certain there was sense to it, but I just didn't get it.
What was left was enough... mission reports, assignments, targets. Max was here on an assignment, of course. Like I'd told him, no one came here by choice, if they could avoid it.
He had private reports to himself, a notepad I guess, about what he'd been doing here. I'm glad he only mentiond me a few times in passing.
I think his real name's Duo. It's strange... suits him though.
He had a handgun and set of throwing knives hidden in his jacket.
What the fuck am I going to do. I've got a Gundam pilot in my house. In my room.
In my bed.
Course, I figure I should help him. I don't like the Alliance. They're the ones who blew up the factory dad was workin' in two years back. An 'accident' they said. And mom just lost it. Fell into her bottle and never saw any reason to crawl back out.
So it'd make sense for me to help the rebels out.
But I don't live in a fucking perfect world. I live in a goddamned slum. The first thing I'm thinking of isn't how to help Max out but just how much I can ransom him off for. More than enough to get mom and me outta here, that's for sure.
"Any word?" Heero's voice drew the Arabian's eyes up from his desk to rest on the pilot.
Quatre shook his head, leaning back in his chair and massaging his temples with a sigh. "None. He hasn't called in, and there's nothing at any of the drop points yet. Normally I'd assume everything's fine, but Duo had said that place was dead. There would be no reason for him not to call us, even late. And I've got a gut feeling something's off." Quatre shrugged, an odd movement for him, Heero thought, because Quatre's movements were often forcefully exact, though he chalked the slip-up to a definite lack of sleep. Quatre had been caring for both him and Wufei since they staggered into the safehouse together.
"You should sleep."
It wasn't a suggestion, and Quatre blinked at the Japanese pilot's tone. It was nice to see Heero trying to interact with others more. Quatre had a good idea who had triggered the change as well, though he fully intended to keep his mouth firmly shut.
Heero wasn't the only one who seemed to have fallen for Duo, after all.
"Winner!" The voice came to the room before Wufei did, a folder in one hand and free papers in another. "Winner, where did you say Maxwell was investigating?"
Quatre felt a knot begin to form between his shoulder blades. "Old New York. What's wrong?"
"He still hasn't checked in?"
"No. What's happened?"
Quatre stood as Wufei turned to leave the room, pausing at the doorframe to look back over his shoulder, "Pack and meet me in the hanger, I'll explain there. We're going after Maxwell. He's managed to put himself in the middle of a god dammed OZ operation. Again."
Heero followed Wufei at a run. Quatre turned the radio to standby and followed, hoping Duo would be all right when they got there. This was his type of mission, his setting, after all.
It'd been two days and Max hadn't fully regained consciousness. That might worry me, but his reports have me guessing that he'd normally grabbed maybe four hours sleep tops for the last week and a bit. If his body needed rest, I wasn't going to deny it. At the moment, I was pumping a sedative in the lines as well. Safer that way. Till I decide what I'm doing...
I kept questioning the fact that I hadn't turned him in yet. I guess... I didn't think he deserved it.
Ok, I'll admit I liked him. He'd been nice to me. He's never given me reason to hurt him... course on these streets you want to be the one to hit first, because it'd damn well better be last, so I shouldn't wait...
For god sakes. I just can't get the nerve up. Yeah, that's it, I'm afraid.
Never say what you're afraid of though. Weakness means death.
Death, huh? Want to know the code to Max's computer?
Hades.
He sleeps like the dead too: it scares the crap out of me. He's never once moved, has barely made any sound breathing. My brain keeps freaking out and I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure he's still there, he's so silent.
I'm exhausted. I haven't really slept the last two nights. And I had a work shift, only three hours, but enough, this morning. Saturdays are always good days for the nurses to take the mornings off- after all, the shit only hits the fan at night. So I make sure everyone's fed and clean before the next shift.
At least I managed to grab an emergency IV kit. Enough to get some serious meds into Max's system.
The wall is cold against my back, and my eyes keep falling. I just need to rest them for a few minutes, that's all. I'll go to sleep once Max is taken care of, one way or another...
Duo looked over to his right to see a bedside table with a dirty lamp and some bandages within the blurry line of sight his eyes allowed. Turning to the left revealed another table, this one with a water pitcher and glasses beside it. It also revealed a figure, seated on the floor, back against the wall beside the door. At her feet was his laptop, open and running, with several cords connecting it to a larger, desktop computer, sitting on the table past the foot of the bed. The girl was asleep, and Duo paused in confusion before sitting up, the dull pain in his shoulder reminding him where he was. Heero wasn't here. Dita was. He'd thought Dita was Heero. He must have hit his head dammned hard to think-
Waitaminute...
"My computer! Ugh... " Duo'd leapt off the bed, but sank to the ground almost instantly, the ceiling doing a pretty decent imitation of a Ferris wheel above him. He noticed the IV in his arm, held above him and hooked on a shelf on the wall. He removed the tape, then carefully pulled the casing out. He tied the tubing in a knot before pressing a cotton ball (handily on the table with some gauze) to the back of his hand and crawling forward.
She'd hacked his computer alright. Dita was still asleep, and Duo left her, instead trying to figure out how much she'd discovered while he was asleep. A glance at the clock told him he'd been out for the last two days. Not good at all. She'd accessed his logs, mission reports, anything of 'interest' on the main drive. He was dammed lucky she hadn't looked any deeper- anything important was hidden within the computer, much deeper within the files. But no way in hell would she not know who he was now. Which, obviously, was Not Good.
He looked over at the sleeping form beside him. It'd be easy, he knew. It wouldn't take much at all to snap her neck. She was a threat now. She knew, and he couldn't trust her. Not at all.
But Duo didn't move. In fact, he stayed where he was, debating with himself, for so long, he once again dozed off, body still weak and seeking rest.
I awoke to beeping. The computer was beeping, a double chirp every few seconds. I opened my eyes to find Max, sitting a foot and a half away, head against the bed as he slept. The IV was gone from his arm, and I saw it tied off by the table. He should be waking up soon, again, I thought warily. The antibiotics I'd switched him to would have hopefully done their work, but without the sedative, he was bound to come to now.
Of course, considering who he was, I guess I wasn't all too surprised by the fact he'd woken up in the first place.
He hadn't killed me in my sleep. Chalk one up to the 'good guys', I suppose, unless it was because he didn't have the strength at the time. It was damned obvious I was in his computer, and I'd have to know who he was by now. That made me a threat. On these streets, you either ran from a threat, or you killed it. Predator or prey, you know?
And I was most certainly not dead.
The computer was still chirping, and the 'incoming message' beacon flashed in time with it. I clicked the button, silencing the alert, and promptly fell back on my ass. I'd expected to see an e-mail window, possibly even a recorded message. The pale, blond, cadmium blue-eyed boy that filled the screen instead, worry and anger in his expression as he asked "who are you?" Was NOT what I'd planned to find.
Of course, I did what I always do, what you always do when you're in a tough spot around here. I got defensive. What's more, this was my turf.
"Who the hell are you?" I countered, madly wondering how the hell he'd managed a hookup directly to the computer. It wasn't connected to any networks; how the HELL had they managed a digital feed? Satellite maybe?
But that would mean... they'd have to be here. On Earth I mean... I'd already guessed as to who 'they' or at least 'he' was.
He'd paused, then leaned forward. The video feed had been tightened, all I saw was his face, purposely so I couldn't see where he was calling from, I'd guessed. "You're using our friend's laptop. Is he with you?"
I shrugged. "That depends. What's he look like?"
Blonde frowned. I didn't care. I thought he was a Gundam pilot, but I certainly wouldn't know for sure unless Max confirmed him. And I wasn't waking Max up till I'd figured out exactly what I was doing. Do I help them? Do I turn them in? Should I even keep this conversation going or do I turn of the laptop right now and pretend it never happened?
Until I decided, I'd keep goading Blondie here, who was doing his best to look calm and collected while at the same time hide his frustration that I wasn't really answering anything. "He's got long brown hair in a braid, and his eyes are violet. He's probably wearing black."
I shook my head. "Oh come on pal, you gotta do better than that. Jeeze, that's the description off a want ad, not something I should be hearin' from a friend." I stressed the word.
In my mind, seconds were hours, and in that eternity, I decided: I'll help 'em out, best I can. Not going to put my neck out or anything, but I figure if OZ wins whatever they're tying to do, it's only gonna get worse here and make it harder to get out of this hell hole. So I'll help em. Once I'm done playing with blue-eyes here.
The screen split and another face appeared, this one a contrast to Blondie, his black hair slicked back into a tight ponytail, his features angled and strict. Currently, his black eyes were flashing in my direction as he leaned forward threateningly, "No games woman, where is he!?"
Woman, huh? "Well that's the first time I've been insulted for being a chick, I'll admit, but I ain't going to give till I know who you two are. Think about it, morons! If you weren't who you are, who could you be?"
The black haired one scowled. "What kind of nonsense-?"
Blondie shook his head, and I guessed Temper had a vid feed of him because he shut up. Blondie give this cute little smile I swear could have melted a polar icecap or two, and nodded, "I understand. He... He has a cross around his neck. And there's a scar in the shape of an 'x' at the base of his neck."
Temper's scowl shifted slightly as it dawned on him I was looking for proof they were friends not enemies. "He probably gave you a nickname, something infuriating, knowing him." The scowl deepened for a second, then "And he has a set of throwing knives, with wire-wrapped handles. Perfectly balanced."
I'd found the knives in his jacket pocket when I'd gone through his clothing. As for a nickname... well, I supposed "Deets" counted. The cross was easy enough. I'd seen that when I'd dressed his shoulder.
"Max is here," I smiled, "Though you probably know him under a different name. He was shot by police, or maybe soldiers, two days back. He's ok, just resting. I'll wake him."
I stood and leaned over Max, ignoring the sputters of the two other pilots as I put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.
I'm not quite sure how he had me flying across the room at a good clip, but I can honestly say I have the dustiest ceilings I've ever stared dazedly at. Mental note: Don't wake up terrorist teenagers by leaning over them and shaking. Calling from across the room would probably do well. "Ouch."
"Dita?" Duo stood, wide awake now and firm on his feet. Adrenaline maybe? I guessed. I found it hard to believe he'd been so soundly asleep moments before. Well, obviously, I'm not as perfect as I'd like to think.
I made my way around the bed and back to Duo and the two on the screen. Temper was smirking. "We tried to warn you."
"Bite me."
Blondie intervened, voice firm. "We've been on this frequency too long. Duo, switch to: Foxtrot Niner Victor Zero One One."
Max, or seemingly 'Duo' leaned over and typed in a new frequency, fiddling with screens that flashed by so quickly I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I realized just how good he was, and just how much dumb luck I'd had in cracking his computer. And I'd thought credit cards were tough!
The screen blurred then solidified, and another face appeared to assist the two, this one a mass of unruly brown hair and eyes so damn fierce he could probably make a guy piss himself just looking at him. He didn't say anything, which was just as well, since it would have seemed damned redundant. "I'm going downstairs."
Duo looked up and I smirked. "What, if you don't mind, I'd rather not be a part of your nefarious plans to take over the colonies or whatever. I'm getting a drink. Holler when you're done, you need that bandage changed."
I opened the door to voices, low angry tones that had failed to pierce through the thick wood. An exasperated voice grew clear, sounding as though he was repeating the same thing for the last few minutes. Knowing my mother, who I also heard down there, he probably was.
"Look mam, we're here to search your house for an escaped criminal. We have full police support on this, and we think he may have hidden somewhere in this area. Now, if you'd just let us in-"
"We ain't got no police here. Just some high and mighty callin' hisself a cop. I ain't got nobody but Dita, and she's probably sleepin. That girl always sleeps after work. You just go off and look somewheres else, I don't like you. You took my Jonsey away from me, so go. Go! GO!!"
I could hear a bottle smash, and someone, not my mother, swore. A gunshot went off. There was more swearing.
"Jesus!"
"Fuck man, we weren't supposed to fire!"
"The whole neighborhood heard that!"
"Shut up! The neighborhood don't fucking care. Let's just book now! He ain't going to be in this dump anyway. We're leaving- now!"
Sounds of agreement, and more swearing filtered up, and the house grew silent as they left. I could see them in my mind's eye, spilling down the chipped concrete stairs and climbing into a transport truck or two.
True to my imagination, an engine was gunned and tires squealed before that too, died off into the distance.
Duo was directly behind me. I didn't even realize it until he shifted, lightly brushing my back with an arm. I jumped and spun, and he pressed a finger to his lips, his handgun (a Selik .22 if I knew anything) in his other hand. There was one, crystal clear moment, where I realized what the shot downstairs had been, and in that instant I hated him with every fibre I had. But it passed and I hit the stairs three at a time.
Quatre had barely begun to explain why he and the others had come before they heard a gunshot, and Duo jumped, eyes throwing around the room in search for his jacket, which was draped over a chair and empty. Searching drawers he found his gun underneath a stack of paper littered with notes and drawings.
He moved to the door, pausing to disconnect the vid link with a hurried "I'll call back".
Dita was just outside the door, as still as ice. They listened to the soldiers leave and their truck squeal away before Duo shifted, and Dita jumped, obviously unaware he'd been behind her. He pressed a finger to his lips, just in case there was still anyone in the house, and she eyed the gun in his hand warily. Her eyes widened suddenly, and they were filled with such hate and sadness Duo fought the urge to look away, before she turned and flew down the stairs, holding onto the handrail for all it was worth.
Duo followed, warily looking to see if anyone had stayed behind, but the house was empty. Stepping into the hallway, he found Dita, kneeling beside the body sprawled on the dirty wood floor.
He knelt on the opposite side, but Dita shook her head, voice soft, "She's dead. There's nothing I can do... " Her bangs covered her eyes as she leaned over the woman and closed the vacant eyes. Tears stained her cheeks, but she refused to cry out loud. Now Duo understood the hatred he'd seen in her eyes.
Because, he thought, if I hadn't been here, her mother would still be alive.
"I'm sorry." Such pointless words, useless in the face of real tragedy, said for the sake of the speaker, not truly for the victim. Standing, Duo headed for the stairs. "I'm... Dita, I'm sorry... I'll leave."
Her head flew up, and the tears didn't obscure the fire in her eyes, "No you fucking won't!"
Duo froze, turning back slowly, shifting the weapon to a firmer grip in his hand. Dita didn't have a weapon that he knew of, but...
"You're a fucking target now, idiot! They'll have ads everywhere, you really think people won't notice you!? You go and get yourself killed and this... " her voice hitched but she continued, motioning to the body at her feet, "than this was pointless! You aren't going anywhere until I figure out how to move you without getting caught. You fell into MY arms, asshole. You're my problem now."
She laughed, a dry, caustic sound. "Besides, you getting away will piss them off, and if that's the only revenge I can get, than I'll take it."
"Dita... " Duo was speechless, and he stepped forward, wanting to comfort the girl, but she stepped away, keeping the body a barrier between the two.
"No... Just, go. Call your friends, whatever. I... just I need to be alone. Let me be alone... "
Duo nodded in understanding, and once again headed for the stairs.
"What's your name? Your real name?"
Pausing, Duo didn't turn around, though he released the safety and relaxed the grip on the firearm. "I never had a name. Closest to a real one I got is Duo. Duo Maxwell. Pilot 02 of the Gundam Deathscythe. And I owe you one hell of a favor when this is over."
"Duo. Thank you. I'll remember that."
"I keep my promises."
Duo left the girl to grieve, cursing in every language he knew at how fucked up the system could be when the innocent were just pawns in someone else's grand scheme. Dita might have been happy to leave her revenge at pissing the soldiers off with his escape, but Duo had no intention to leave the matter there. Those soldiers had just made a date with their maker. And that was a promise, one his willing to go to great lengths to keep.
Of course, he still didn't know what the fuck OZ was doing here, but hopefully Quatre would shed some light on the subject.
End Part 4
(:./elemental/ident4)
