18-Jul-2001
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.
Pairings: 3x4, 1x2.
Warning: OCC Quatre? That's a matter of opinion. I think I've nailed him dead on. Possible squick. Violence. Rated R for mature content.
He supposed it had all started when he was a little boy.
"Oh, what a perfect little angel." people had gushed, seeing his blond hair and blue-green eyes.
Now, being a Muslim, Quatre hadn't known quite what an angel was right away, so he had looked it up online. Images of cherubic, smiling faces had filled the screen. Beautiful, harp-playing, halo-sporting creatures with flowing white robes and feathery wings.
Quatre had taken one of his father's hunting rifles and shot the computer. Just for fun, he'd shot the television, the radio, the mailbox, and a defenseless ceiling fan as well. He'd tried to put a few rounds in Rashid, but Rashid was a bit too quick for him and had managed to call Quatre's father to disarm him.
Quatre had decided, on that day, at the tender age of five, that he had no interest in being an angel. Oh, he could lay the charm on thick enough when he had to; he knew how to bat his eyelashes and bring them all to their knees (in more ways than one) but in his heart, he was a cold-hearted, narrow-minded, homicidal lunatic who only cared for people in the terms of what he could get out of them.
And he liked it that way.
His victim of choice was Trowa, which worked well for both of them. Trowa enjoyed being hurt, humiliated, dominated, and abused. For years he had been frustrated trying to find that, trying to convince his sister Catherine to aim the knives at him, trying to convince the police that he needed to be beaten with nightsticks for running a stop sign, and trying to convince the doctors removing his shattered spleen that he wished to be awake during the procedure and needed no anesthesia.
In Quatre, he found someone willing to play "doctor" by his rules. (Quatre had his appendix stuffed and mounted on the wall of the den). And they were happy. Trowa loved Quatre, and Quatre might have loved Trowa, except for the fact that Quatre hadn't loved anything in his life except reruns of Night Court and Pizza Hut breadsticks.
Today, Quatre was in a very bad mood. Trowa was still out of commission awaiting a kidney donation. However, Quatre had managed to buy him one and expected his victim to be home soon so he could damage it.
It was a beautiful sunny day, without a cloud in the sky. Quatre was glaring upward. "I am the richest man in the universe, Allah. When I say I want clouds, I EXPECT clouds."
Clouds rolled in at once.
"Thank you." Quatre huffed. He was still feeling rather bitter toward the world in general. He picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello?"
Quatre took a deep breath and let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream into the phone. When he was sure Wufei's ears were bleeding, he hung up the receiver. That had made him feel a bit better, but not much. He needed to hurt more people.
He pondered for a moment. What to do? What to do?
He could shoot bolts from his crossbow at preschoolers again.
No, he did that so often.
The problem was that the thrill was gone out of it. He owned everything; no one dared arrest him, or tell him to stop. They were so afraid of him that anyone he put a bullet in or maimed thanked him for doing it. And it just wasn't as much fun when they didn't get upset about it.
He thought for a minute. There were a few people who might get cross with him. Wouldn't hurt to give them a visit and see how much they could take without breaking. Feeling in a much better mood, he summoned his driver and gave his directions. He felt a flash of disappointment when Admar remembered to put up the divider between the front seat and the rear ones. However, he really couldn't blame the man. The last time he had left it down Quatre had covered his eyes and ordered him to drive by smell.
Admar had no wish to lose his one remaining leg, apparently.
A few hours, a shuttle flight, and a few wounded bystanders later Quatre arrived at his destination. A charming, two-story brick home surrounded by prize-winning rosebushes.
Quatre quickly burned the bushes to the ground. He didn't like flowers. They were so... cheerful.
Quatre didn't like cheerful.
He shot open the lock of the front door and went inside, pausing only for a moment to drop Spark-Lee Bowl tablets into the tropical fish tank. He looked around for the cat, Mittens. He had a special treat for her. However, Mittens had heard the limo approach and suddenly remembered a prior appointment on another colony. She remembered Quatre's last visit.
The young man slipped off his boots and tiptoed up the stairs to the bedroom, where moaning and grunting noises could be heard.
Duo and Heero were going at it on the bed, and Quatre was disgusted. No whips? No chains? No cement? No colostomy bags?
He removed a large banana from his backpack and walked over to the bed. And waited for a bare bottom to rise.
"YOOWWWWWW." Heero jumped off the bed. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!"
"You have a banana sticking out of your ass." Quatre commented.
Heero removed the banana and threw it to the floor, and took off after Quatre.
Duo staggered after them, gun in hand.
Quatre ducked flying bullets as he headed for the door.
Suddenly the day was looking much better.
The End
(:./lasha/evil4)
