I do not own Gundam Wing or any characters in it. Gundam Wing belongs to Sotsu, Sunrise, ANB, and other rich people. I do not own I Don't Know You Anymore, it's by Savage Garden. Mozart's K.626 Requiem belongs to Mozart. I am not making any money off of this, and I have no money so don't sue me. On the other hand, I do own whatever random side characters I come up with.
Warnings: Rated R for content. Contains lime, male/male pairings, violence, death, and some language. If any of this content offends you, your parents don't want you reading this, or you are not old enough to read this, please don't. If you choose to read on anyway, if you have been warned and I do not care to receive any content based complaints after said warning. Thank you.
Author's Notes: Words inside // indicate song lyrics. This part contains a lot of violence, blood shed, death, and betrayal.
Pairings: Heero/Duo, Quatre/Trowa, Relena/OC
The darkness faded from my mind and I heard muttering. “I'm never going to open my mouth again. I swear I'm not.” It was the voice of the person who'd said I was dead. “I should never have contradicted the Colonel about the burial.
“Next time the Colonel says 'Leave the body out to rot as a lesson to all those who would challenge Mariemaya Kushrenada's right to rule,' I will not argue with him. I do not care how unsanitary it is leaving dead bodies just lying about. I don't care how many wolves it will bring down on us. I don't. Let the wolves and disease come. I do not like being put on grave digging duty. They deserve better than a mass grave…” the voice trailed off.
I opened my eyes and stared up into darkness. Night had fallen, and the trees blocked out the sky and any possible light from the moon. There was a faint trickle from what appeared to be a lamp, but I wasn't going to swear to that. I almost did swear, when I figured out where I was.
A rain of dirt fell on my face. I swallowed, and felt beneath me. I was lying on bodies. I was lying on dead bodies.
More specifically, I was at the top of the body pile in the mass grave the soldier had spoken of. And he was burying me.
My trick had worked, just the way I'd wanted it to. There was only one problem; I hadn't counted on a humanitarian among the enemy. I'd planned on being left lying out for dead for the others to rescue me.
I knew Wufei at least would recognize suspended animation. We'd learned it from the same man after all, and it had taken me weeks to persuade Professor G to get Master O to teach it to me. I'd learned. Wufei would recognize it. I'd known that. But Wufei hadn't come. Heero hadn't come. None of them had. They'd done what Trowa said.
They'd abandoned me.
They'd left me to die.
Adrenaline, anger, and hate flooded my veins and I surged up, scrambling out of the grave. The soldier gave a cry of fear. It was the last sound he ever made. Shinigami had returned.
/Because I don't know you anymore
I don't recognize this place
The picture frames have changed and so has your name
We don't talk much anymore
We keep running from these sentences
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again/
I let the soldier's corpse fall down into the mass grave. I heard rustling in the distance, and the rustling was getting closer. I faded into the shadows of the trees and checked for a weapon. Obviously the soldier had had a gun. But I hadn't thought about that before I dropped his corpse in the grave to lie on top of the other bloodstained corpses. They'd taken mine before tossing me into the grave, but they hadn't found my knife collection. I was awed by their stupidity in not searching for weapons other than guns.
I reached into my braid and retrieved a knife. My partners had always thought that my hair was just vanity, and while I loved it, took good care of it, and definitely bragged about it as one of my better features, it had a functional role. My hair could always store an extra set of lock picks, several knives, and if necessary a poison pill. And no one ever thought to search it for any of these things. My hair also acted as a garrote on more than one occasion.
Another guard walked into the clearing. “Larson?” he called. “Larson where are you?” His gun was held half at the ready as he peered around. He turned his back on me and I stepped out, close up to his body and held the knife at his throat.
“He's gone to meet his maker, and now you'll be joining him,” I whispered, slicing the knife quickly across his jugular and slashing his windpipe through. He gurgled softly as his blood sprayed a near by tree.
I tossed him contemptuously in the grave to join Larson. I stalked off, giving them no more thought. I headed straight for my bag. I needed it. I needed to complete my mission. I needed it for the mission that I had just given myself.
I reached the perimeter of the forest, letting my anger carry me there, and I looked up to where my bag hung suspended in the branches. I was going to have to climb to get it, and that was not going to be easy.
I distantly felt my wounds aching, no burning. I knew, in some detached corner of my mind, that I was limping, and I'd be lucky to complete the mission. I didn't care. I reached for the tree and began to heave myself up, muscles pulling, and my left arm nearly gave out on me. I stiffened, and forced myself to continue.
I slowly clambered up to the bag and knocked it loose. It fell to the ground and I briefly considered letting myself fall after it. I discarded the idea, realizing that I couldn't afford any more injuries. I climbed down awkwardly, and sat at the base of the tree. I pulled out a stack of bandages and slapped them on the bullet holes that I could find, and tightly bound my right leg. I couldn't afford to lose any more blood either. And while I didn't need the possibility of infection I figured it was already far too late to worry about that.
I got back up, bag in hand, and began to creep around the walls. I found a shadowy stretch halfway around, between the gate and the back, and it wasn't well guarded. I sat down again to watch and wait, anger still throbbing in my brain and veins. The anger was now ice cold and calculated, giving me more strength than the fiery hot fury of before and also giving me the sense to conserve my strength.
The patrol passed by after half an hour and disappeared again. I smirked. Plenty of time.
I waited for them to get completely out of sight, and then I snuck across the open ground to the base of the wall. I tossed up a grappling hook and climbing rope. When it was steady and would hold my weight, I scrambled up the wall. My left arm screamed at me to stop the entire way up. I ignored it, forcing myself to go on.
I slid over the top and, in the shadow of the wall; I huddled on the parapet and rested. My breath heaved painfully in my chest and my wounds burned fire across and through my body. I waited for several moments till my breathing leveled out, although it still hurt, and after gathering up the hook and rope, I found my way down to the ground.
I laid the first charges and moved on. I went around the back and gradually moved towards the front, but I never went within sight of the front gate. Then I moved inwards.
I slid from building to building, hugging the shadows and planting charges in strategic spots. I was grateful for the emptiness of the streets due to the lateness of the hour. No matter how sneaky I was I couldn't have avoided too many people on the streets, and while I could have put the uniform I'd stolen on, my hair was not in a military cut like everyone else's here, and it also would have required ripping my blood stained clothes from my skin. I did not need anymore pain.
I moved on and was absolutely delighted when I found the weapons store in the center of the compound. It would explode wonderfully. I finished as quickly as I could and carefully made sure that all the charges were set to my detonator's frequency.
And then it hit me. I hadn't come up with a plan to get out. I like making things go boom, but I didn't want to go boom myself. I considered my options.
My first option was to try to climb back over and down the wall, and then make my way back to the woods. But then I'd have to walk out. We'd left the car five miles from this base, and while I thought I could make it that far I was sure the car was no longer there. They'd left after all. I knew, without a doubt, that I could not walk to the nearest town with a train station. I'd die before I ever got to one. So, going over the wall was out.
I could blow myself up, but that was counterproductive to surviving. I wasn't enthusiastic about that option, not that it was much of an option. Mentally I moved it to the bottom of my list, even below walking out.
However, in my little tour of the compound I had discovered where they kept the cars. I smirked and slunk to a spot where I could see the front gate. It was less impressive looking from the inside. They had no other exits, so to move the sentries in and out they had to leave it open, even at night, which was the main reason they kept so many guards there. The guards, a total of five, were all focused on the outside of the walls.
I smirked. I had my escape plan and route. It was potentially dangerous, and certainly risky. It could have gotten me killed. However, it was far better than my other two options. This one gave me at least a chance for survival.
I went back to the cars and looked them over. They were all armored and had bullet proof windows; this plan was getting less risky by the second. I checked the gas tanks. I went over the one that had the closest thing to a full tank with a fine toothed comb and made sure there was nothing wrong with it mechanically. It was completely fine.
I got in, tossed my bag onto the passenger seat, and set the detonator where I could easily get at it to push the button. I hot-wired the car and drove it through the base, watching the confused faces of those few that were awake, or got woken up. As I approached the gate an alarm was sounded. I stepped on the gas, slamming through the gate guards. As soon as I reached the tree line I hit the detonator, and immensely enjoyed the gout of flame that rose behind me. Thank God for rear view mirrors.
“Mission one accomplished,” I said icily. “Now onto mission two, before the adrenaline goes away.”
I drove swiftly through the forest, the road in front of my eyes occasionally graying out and fuzzing over. I forced them back into focus. I forced myself to hang on and not run into a tree. I refused to give my 'partners' the satisfaction.
I arrived at the nearest town, ditched the jeep, and limped over to the train station. I bought a ticket, ignored the odd looks I was getting, caught my train, and gave into the darkness that finally, inexorably washed over me.
Copyright 2005