Part Two
I had the strangest day. And for me, that’s saying something. I found a Gundam on the bottom of the ocean, of all places. Probably the one OZ sank, because they were looking for it most . . . enthusiastically. I showed them the true meaning of enthusiasm. They couldn’t take it. Fortunately, nobody saw me. Well, and survived.
The Gundam looked like mine, but not as cool. So I figured I would haul it up and use it for spare parts. Simple thinking, right?
Why does nothing in my life go as planned?
So I contrived a way to haul it to the surface. Unfortunately, just as they reached the surface, some maniac came along and tried to blast them both to bits.
Let me be a little more specific.
The maniac had floppy brown hair and one of the worst outfits I’ve ever seen, plus a pair of deep blue eyes that were surprisingly nice. Surprising because I’m surprised I noticed, since he was trying to kill me.
Okay, so I took a few shots at him. My aim is better than his. Besides, he was trying to kill this, this . . . girl.
I’m really getting ahead of myself here. I don’t know why G thought I should keep a journal. Or why I’m still keeping it, now that I’m out of his evil clutches. I think it’s force of habit. So let me start at the beginning.
I was using Deathscythe to haul the other Gundam to the surface. While I was waiting, I heard someone say “You know too much!” Always intrigued by the thought of knowing too much, I went over to see what was going on. What I saw was Mr. Maniac about to shoot this chick in a fancy blue dress. I didn’t have time to figure out what was going on and, uh, solve the problem diplomatically, so I shot the guy in the arm. And for some unfathomable reason, the girl started shrieking and asking me why I had to hurt him! Especially when I shot him again. And while she’s babbling and the Gundams are rising to the surface, the maniac shoots missiles at both of them!
Oh, I am so pissed.
He fell facedown into the water and floated there limply. The girl was shrieking, so, merely to shut her up, I dove in and hauled him out. She called an ambulance (even though I pointed out there was one parked nearby) and I decided to beat feet. Taking both Gundams, of course.
So now I’m back here, sitting at my computer, and my hair is . . . uh. Disgusting. Dried saltwater. It’s so sticky. It’s going to take forever to fix. G told me I should cut it once. I said sure, as long as I got to use the braid to strangle him afterwards.
He let it go.
Regardless, I now have two Gundams. I turned them over to Howard. That man is a Godsend. One of the few good things Pestilence ever did me was telling me to find him.
So now I’m wondering what to do about the psychopath. Both of them. I don’t care too much about the girl. She’s the other guy’s problem. If you ask me, she just has a crush on him and he can’t handle it. Anyway, he’s probably in the hospital, since I did shoot him twice. But if he’s the pilot of the Gundam I salvaged, I might want to break him out. I mean, more Gundam pilots is a good thing, right? Not that I think the maniac would want to work with me after I nearly blew him to hell.
Anyway. I have work to do. My hair, for one thing. And also things to destroy.
****
Okay, I thought I had an interesting day yesterday? Scratch that, repeat it. I’m minding my own business, just blowing up a random OZ base, when no less than three other Gundams appear on the horizon. So I’m thinking, oh shit, new OZ tactic or something when this blonde kid who looks to be about twelve years old pops out of one and says something about ‘why can’t we all be friends?’
I said I didn’t know, but sure, what the hell. We finished mopping up the Ozzies and hauled ass. Quatre, it turns out his name is, is the pilot of Gundam 04. He told me there were five Gundams and five Gundam pilots. I knew that much, but I didn’t know that we were all technically on the same side. And we apparently really all are. All four of us ditched White Fang after hearing about their . . . collective stupidity.
So he introduced me to Trowa, who I know must have a face under all that hair somewhere, and Wufei, whose underwear is about three sizes too tight, or in a really big bunch. One of the two. Fortunately, Quatre seems pretty nice, and he seemed overjoyed that I was nice in return. I don’t blame him after having to deal with these two. So then he told me he was still looking for the fifth pilot, and once all five of us were together we could . . . okay, there his plan got a little fuzzy. But it still sounded like a good idea to me. I mean, united we stand, divided we fall, in onion there is strength - er, union - and all that. Right?
So I said I’d be right back, and went to break Mr. Mysterious out of the hospital. You might ask how I did this. Let’s just say it involved large amounts of explosives. I was really impressed with him. I mean, he managed to wake up but not change his heartbeat or breathing at all, and got free of one of the restraints even though it made his arm bleed all over the place . . . that was nasty.
But then, the . . . the . . . the idiot completely ruined our escape by forgetting to open his parachute, or apparently decided he didn’t need it.
I hate stupid people.
So that psycho chick was back, and she started bellowing his name and he apparently heard her and woke up, because the parachute popped open. Of course, by then it was too late to do anything. I can just see the ad now! “One parachute for sale. Used once, never opened.”
So he survives all this with just a broken leg, which he then had to set by himself, on the deck of a boat. That was really . . . uh. I had the cold shudders for about an hour.
So, regardless of all this, I assured him that his Gundam was fine - well, no less fine than it was before I dragged it off the bottom of the ocean - and in good hands. Then I hauled him off to see Quatre.
Apparently, Mr. Maniac’s name is Heero. He ranks on a level with Trowa when it comes to social skills. For one thing, he insisted he didn’t need a doctor.
Did I already mention I hate stupid people?
I mean, even if they’re industrial strength stupid people.
Quatre apparently didn’t want to piss him off, so he said fine, we won’t drag you to a doctor. He did, however, suggest that we all get some rest and talk in the morning. And that Heero was not to get up.
I find myself really liking Quatre.
I can tell that Heero does not like me. Okay, so I shot him. He deserved it. I didn’t know that the chick was a psychopath. How was I supposed to know? I’m not a mind reader. My hair apparently is not psychic. Good to know. I think it would have alarmed me.
Anyway, Heero has responded to everything I’ve said with words of one syllable. Or just not replied at all.
Okay, so he doesn’t like me. So what? I shouldn’t worry about this, right?
Hm . . . then why am I agonizing over it in my journal?
His blue eyes are very . . . very . . . oh, never mind.
Anyway. Quatre asked me if I’d had any contact from the doctors. I said sure, they’d sent me a nice letter and a not so nice letter. When he asked how I replied, I offered to let him see the messages I sent. I kept them for amusement value. He read them, and wandered off looking a little green. I heard him mutter “I don’t think that’s anatomically possible” at least twice.
So I’m creative. So sue me.
I take that back. Don’t. I’m broke.
I’m gonna go to bed. Maybe in the morning, this will all make sense. And maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll stop glaring at me with those eyes.
****
Quatre was frustrated. Duo seemed to have enough friendliness and social skills to make up for Trowa and Wufei, but add Heero to the mix and things just stopped going well. Heero seemed displeased with the entire situation. Or perhaps, Quatre reflected, he was just mad at Duo for shooting him. Either was possible.
He managed to get all the pilots gathered together for breakfast and discussion. The safehouse they were staying at certainly wasn’t much, but it had a functional kitchen, and Quatre did his best to oblige.
After everyone else was served, he finally sat down with a mug of tea and a plate of pancakes.
“So what are we doing?” Duo asked, practically inhaling his food.
“Well, I suggest that since there are five of us, we start taking out bigger things.” Quatre put a piece of paper on the table. “That’s a list of possible targets. I was researching last night.”
“Cool.” Duo seemed pleased at the idea of more mass destruction. He started scanning the list.
Quatre looked questioningly at the other pilots, waiting for some feedback. When none appeared to be forthcoming, he said, “Guys? What do you think?”
“Hn,” Heero replied.
Duo shot him a glance. “Man, did they wire your jaw shut while you were in the hospital?”
Heero glared at him.
“Right,” Duo said.
Trowa took the list from Duo and looked over it. “I think the idea is sound.”
Quatre looked thrilled to have gotten that much from him. He beamed cheerfully at the green eyed boy.
“I’m not sure,” Wufei said. “Why bother destroying all their bases and such when they depend so heavily on the leadership of Treize Khushrenada?”
“Well,” Quatre said. “To begin with, because getting someone in to kill Treize would take an incredibly long time. Naturally, he’s well-guarded. So in the meantime, this is our best option. Though he may be a powerful leader, he can’t lead if he has no troops.”
Wufei considered this, then nodded abruptly. “All right.”
“Heero?” Quatre looked at Heero, still trying to get something out of him.
Heero seemed to consider not replying, then just said, “My Gundam is not in working order.”
“Oh, no problem, man,” Duo said cheerfully. “Howard can fix it up for you. I swear, he does this just for fun.”
“Who’s Howard?” Quatre asked.
“He’s my mechanic. Great guy. We can count on him to keep our Gundams up to par.”
Trowa looked pensive. “Can he get us ammunition?”
Duo shrugged. “Sure, if you give him enough advanced notice. But he, uh, does like to be paid occasionally.”
“I’m afraid I’m lacking in funds.”
“Skim from OZ,” Heero said.
Quatre wanted to cheer. Three whole words from Heero, and all of them voluntary! He decided against cheering.
Trowa nodded. “Good idea.”
“Hey, they’re talking!” Duo was not as reserved as Quatre.
Wufei elbowed him. “Shut up. You’ll ruin it.”
Duo and Quatre stared at him.
“You have a sense of humor!” Duo declared. “Pardon me while I go off into the corner and have an aneurysm.”
“Be my guest.”
****