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29 September 2006 @ 03:45 pm
Cat's eyes, nine lives  
This song always reminds of Duo. Really! It fits him pretty well during the series when he gets out of his slump and comes back roaring in Deathsycthe Hell.

I usually don't write fics. But sometimes the urge gets me. This is a WIP like 99.99% of my crap. I was reading a fanfic and needed to vent my frustrations out on the fact that people overlook or graze over the psychological impact of trauma. Instead they write about the dashing hero or the plot gets wired on romance and lemons.

Objectives: - write a story that deals with emotional and mental imbalance
- write a fanfic in which the romance doesn't overwhelm the plot
- try to write a suspense story
- remove fanon perceptions of the GW characters
- portray characters as more than static/flat characters

The Straw That Breaks The Camel's Back

"What would you prefer? Orange juice or milk?"

She paused, her eyes averting the hollow, blank stare when no answer was given.

"Would you like anything else? You have to eat," she reminded.

It was like having a conversation with a wall, only walls didn't give off repressed tension. But she supposed that came from her. There was hardly anything that he responded to anymore. They said he was going through a worrying phase, but hopefully one day there may be a breakthrough. She's tried many things such as showing newspaper clippings, talking about the past, getting him to do things he used to love.

But all she gets in return is that damned blank stare.


"What's your name?"

A slap rings harshly across the room.

"I asked, 'what is your name'?"

"Go fuck yourself, you bastard!"

"So it does talk," said one of the shadows in the background.

"If he won't even give his real name, I doubt he'll tell us anything," said another.

"He'll break yet."


AGE: 18
BIRTH DATE: 08/23/83 real BIRTH DATE unknown
HEIGHT: 160 cm
WEIGHT: 44 kg









"This is Agent Chang."

"Agent Chang, you are to report down to the fifth floor, room C4."


"They said it was urgent, sir."


"Who's better to make an ex-pilot talk than another ex-pilot?"

Chang's quick and light footsteps echoed on the pristine tiles. They halted in front of a man who was strapped down on the table with rhenium-tungsten alloy cuffs bound to his wrists and ankles.

"Wufei, how's the wife and kids? Haven't seen you in a while, buddy, looks like you've been -- "


The words died from Maxwell's lips and he closed his eyes, his smile crooked, bitter.

"They want to know how you killed Ted Lorace."

"Secrets of the trade."

"Are you confirming that you murdered Mr. Lorace?"

"Are you confirming you're an assho -- fuck!"

Knuckles cracked.

"I will use force if necessary."

"Jeez, don't go so easy on me, I might get away."

"What happened on Thursday evening of the first of October?"

"Hell if I know."

This time the expletive was replaced with an angry hiss.

"Answer honestly."

"I said, 'hell, if I know'. Or are you just another bastard waiting to hear what you want? If so, I could spin a pretty yarn about an affair Mr. Lorace had with a gay duck and a -- oof! You know, this is getting kinda tedious, Wufei. How 'bout something original instead of this cheap, L1 copper drama?"

"What were you doing at that time?"

"Getting drunk out of my mind, of course."

"People have said you were having an altercation with Mr. Lorace in a bar."

"Yeah, and you're really Relena Darlian in drag."

"There were further rumors involving you and Mrs. Lorace."

"Ahh, good ol' Lindy. She's like a sister. Except she's not."

"I have with me a device that will cause every single pain sensor in your body to respond screaming. I suggest you answer directly."

"Hm, is that your newest toy? Didn't think you'd be into that sort of thing, but okay."

"Where were you at eight twenty-five?"

"On my way home, but it was pouring piss."

And the entire session continued in this very fashion. Agent Chang showed an impressive amount of patience toward the man. Maxwell didn't gaze at any of the other agents and officials -- preferred to stare up at the ceiling as though it was a mildly fascinating Modernism piece.

The next day, Agent Chang informed Maxwell of the evidence compiled against him. The man made a humming noise and directed his smiles at the agents, successfully annoying them.


"Did you love her?"

It was the turn of the CEO of Winner Enterprises to talk to the recalcitrant Maxwell.

"Of 'course I did."

"Is that why you killed him?"

"It wouldn't've been worth it."

"What was 'worth it' that you murdered him?"

"Figure it out yourself. I'm taking a nap."


Quatre Winner stared at the sleeping figure contemplatively. The bangs were long enough to reach the bottom of his eyes, shielding them partially from spectators. His hair only reached past his shoulders, perhaps he was re-growing it back to its original state. While Quatre and everyone else who knew the worth of the war had killed, it was peace-time. It wasn't time to kill anything but ghosts.


"Sir! Sir, the autopsy shows us this man had one of the L2 viruses from AC 187."


"Here's a sample of the strain -- looks like it mutated a chromosome."

"Well. Shit."


"So you did it to save people from an outbreak?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The L2 virus. We found it in Mr. Lorace during autopsy."

"Well, whattaya know. I'm the hero now, right? Funny how that works. Hey, did I ever tell you the time I tried to save Relena Darlian, Quatre? Heero Yuy was aiming at her and I shot him -- twice, hah, but she just ran over to him and patched him while yelling at me."

"So this wasn't an act of -- "

"I ain't no martyr, Quatre. I leave that up to you guys."


"Have you ever seen a cripple walk?"

"What?" asked Quatre, frowning slightly as he leaned toward Duo to listen.

"Have you ever seen a cripple walk?" Duo repeated.

"No... what is this about?"

"I've seen one. Lots, actually. They all climb, climb and clutch and run."

"What -- to whom are you referring to?"

Duo's eyes had been closed the whole time and a slit of blue peeked from his left as he answered, his face impassive.

"The ones I kill."


"He isn't making any sense. Maybe it's guilt-ridden psychosis?"

"It's not that," said Quatre. He sipped a styrofoam cup of coffee. "He's very lucid."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."



Escaped suspect flees for life

by Robert T. Ellis

As a prime suspect of the murder of Mr. Lorace – a member of the Chairman Committee for World Health, Duo Maxwell breaks out of the Preventers agency, in broad daylight no less, and vanishes. The agency promised they would recapture Maxwell and upgrade their security to a higher standard. "But it should be kept in mind this is a brilliant, young man who has the capabilities to slip in and out of the most secure places in the ESUN," says a Preventers agent.

It is also rumored the young CEO of Winners Enterprises had conversed with Duo Maxwell during the time of his interrogation to extract information.


A stranger was hunched on someone's doorstep wearing a regulation uniform standard of Preventers employees. He crouched and observed the stranger. Dirty, unkempt hair with dark circles under his eyes and a thin frame. Contusions were scattered over his body and he was breathing shallowly.

Heero Yuy carried the man to the end of the apartment and inside. It wasn't every day bodies were strewn on his apartment floor. A hand on the man's forehead revealed he had a mild fever. Then he noticed a note crumpled in the stranger's fist. He debated taking it as it must have been personal but in the end managed to pry it loose. To his surprise, it had his address and scrawled hastily on the bottom were the words:

find the mayflower

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