(Just kidding)

    Right... well... where to start?  Heh.  Why not be a little unoriginal for once?

    Have you ever had one of those dreams?  I mean one of THOSE dreams that are so incredibly real you know it has to be fake?  Where everywhere you turn the details are almost scoured into your brain.  You remember life outside the dream only if you concentrate, but that is little consolation since real life matters are irrelevant here.

    Sometimes when you turn there are weird transitions that lead you onto incredibly new and strange adventures.  Sometimes you don't even have to move... the world moves for you.  It twitches and pours, molds and forms itself until you're somewhere else; until you can't even remember where you started.

    So, have you?  Had one of those dreams, I mean.  I only ask because I've been having them for awhile now.

    In fact, if you want to get technical, I'm having one right now.
    
    Yeah, and the funniest thing is: I. Can't. Leave.

    See, _I_ think it all started with this chick.  I was going to the local bookstore....  Yeah, I know what you're thinking.  “Duo Maxwell?  In a BOOKSTORE?!”  But I'll have you know being an orphaned-streetbrat-turned-psycopathic-killer does NOT mean I can't have a little class.  I mean, really... give a guy a break.

    So, as I was saying-I was in a bookstore.  Y'know the kind-cozy little café in the back, overpriced music outlet on the side.  It's the local scene for all those sophisticated students who can't seem to do their studying at home.

    Yeah.  Well.  Before you start asking yourself, I'll answer your questions.  No, it wasn't on business.  I'm not 24/7 Yuy who never seems to leave the workplace behind ifyouknowwhatImean.  Nah, I was there for fun.  Pleasure, to be exact.

    Ya see, there are a lot of cute girls and guys who hang at those kinds of places, and I thought, hell, may as well add myself to the numbers.

    So, there I was-8 pm on a Friday night, walking past the bars, malls, movie theatres, and all the _normal_ hangouts just so I could flutter these luscious amethysts at some lucky girl.  Or guy.  Hey, when you're in the mood for fun, who has time to be picky?

    So I'm sitting there, a latte-something-or-other in my hand that smelled like Heaven and tasted even better, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.  I glance over and find myself staring straight at the black bra-contained breasts of a girl wearing a loose necked shirt and bending over right by me.  Surprised, I stared a moment before I tore my eyes away and looked up at her.

    Glad I did.  Her face was even cuter.

    Her red-brown hair was short-hanging about to her chin, flipping out at the ends.  She had large eyes that were beautiful-and I mean it when I say that.  They were golden brown-and I stress the golden part-but they turned almost dark blue around the pupils.  Yeah, it doesn't sound right when I say it, but you gotta believe me when I say that they were knock outs.  She had a little nose and very full lips, and she was smiling at me.

    “Excuse me,” she said shyly, her voice smooth with a husky hint to it.

    I hesitated only a moment before sending her one of my charming Duo smiles and pushing the chair that had been occupied by my legs over near her.  She smiled gratefully and dropped into it with all the grace of a feline.  I stared at her, wondering what I had done to deserve this little twist of fate.

    Now that she wasn't leaning toward me I had a chance to see her clothing beyond the undergarments part of it.  She wore a loose white blouse that was long sleeved and actually reminded me of those old-as-hell Renaissance fads.  Her blouse was tucked into a short and only moderately tight black skirt, her shapely legs covered by slightly shiny pantyhose.  I was already thinking she was quite the looker, but then I noticed two parts of her wardrobe that only served to make me more interested.

    One, she was wearing combat boots.  Bless the woman, but she was wearing calf-high lace up black combat boots!  It was so adorable I almost kissed her right there just for being cute.  As my gaze traveled back up to her face I was caught once more at her chest.

    No, I am NOT that much of a... entei?  Gentai? (err, that's the right word, right?  Damn Heero and his Japanese... making me speak it like some two-bit electronical translator) You'd think I'd remember the word by now, the boy calls me that enough. I don't see what's wrong with a few nudey mags and porno sites off and on.  I mean, c'mon, what's NOT normal about a teenage boy having those?  But Mr. Emotionless over there finds that sort of thing nothing but a distraction.  He's got THAT right.

   I really don't see how he does it.  I can't imagine repressing all my emotions AND my hormones, and STILL run around wearing spandex like yesterday's aerobics-flailing grandma.  Come to think of it, maybe he isn't as good as he thinks.  I bet he has a hard-on 24/7 and doesn't even realize it.

    Anyway, I'm not that much of a sleeze-ball.  I already saw Little Miss Perky's breasts once, and unless we were doing something more later on, I wasn't gonna push my luck.  But, damn, that was a hot little lace thing she was wearing....

    Errghh, back to the story.  Actually, what my eyes caught was a necklace.  It hung just past where her blouse started-a silver star within a silver ring.  Pentagram, that's what those were called, right?  Supposedly represented the Devil-worshippers and all that way back when.  Not too many people even recognize the symbol anymore, let alone worship the religion that backed it.  Myself, I knew about it from a friend long ago from the streets of L2.  Still, I didn't know much beyond the fact those... what was it?  Pagans?  That they, as a whole, weren't at all what people thought them to be.

    Finally I brought my eyes back up to hers.  It hadn't been that long, really, my trek up and down the fine body of this girl who had greeted me with item DD page 15 of Victoria's Secret.  She was watching me with a strange, unreadable look.  At first I thought I'd offended her, but just as I was about to open my mouth I got a taste of my own medicine.

    Her lovely golden eyes trailed down my chest, past my groin, taking in my black boots, semi-tight black pants, and black priest's shirt.  When her gaze moved up it caught on my braid, which at that point had snaked around behind the chair, hanging like a wet coat hung inside to dry after a long hard rain.  Then she saw my cross necklace, and she stared at it.  So that's what it felt like to her, huh?  When I traveled up and down her body and stared at her chest?  It's a good thing I'm not a girl `cause I would've felt ravished with the way she was staring intently at my torso.  Mental note: be more careful with girls.  That makes me feel disgusting.

    Finally she looked into my eyes again, and I knew she had come to some sort of decision.  What that decision was, I had no clue.

    `Course, it took all of .25 seconds for her to reveal it.

    “Do you believe in your dreams?” she asked, the second thing said since we “met.”

    I blinked, not expecting the question.  “What do you mean?”

    “Your dreams,” she replied calmly, “Do you believe in them?”

    I frowned in thought.  I really hadn't ever thought of it before so I told her that.  She nodded, then suddenly grabbed my hand in hers.  She leaned forward with such an intent look I thought she was either going to bitch-slap and proceed to break me, or make passionate love to me right there in the middle of the café.  So when she said something it didn't even occur to me to translate it to Duo-Speak until a few moments later.

    Finally I shook my head and said, “Sorry, what?”

    “They're coming,” she said seriously and urgently.  

   I looked behind me, expecting to see anything from Oz soldiers decked out and ready to slay anything in sight, to a brigade of fluffy pink dragons with heart-shaped tongues and feathery purple wings.  She made an exasperated sound, so I turned back to her and, like a typical American, blurted, “Huh?”

    She shook her head at me and squeezed my hand.  “The dreams,” she told me, already pushing herself up to a stand.  She watched me a moment before reaching out to caress my hair.  Suddenly with a swift yank, she pulled out a strand, which she tugged free from my braid.  Right, so I was TOTALLY not expecting that either.  

    I yelped.  Give me a break, what would YOU do if a chick appeared like that then immediately accosted your most beloved feature?  Holding my hand to my head, I stared at her in disbelief and probably also a bit of betrayal.  `Course... I HAD stared at her breasts.  But that was HER fault!  She only looked back at me, thoughtfully wrapping the strand around her thin wrist like a thin but long bracelet.  The only thing that kept me from feeling very disturbed was the complete lack of recognition in her expression.  I had started thinking this may be some elaborate trap of Oz's or some other enemy, but when she watched me it was stranger to stranger.  I've been on my share of television broadcasts... yeah, shut up, I know it was when I was captured. Still, any Oz soldier, associate, or really even any INFORMED person would know a Gundam pilot when they see one.... You'd think anyway... right...?  But she was either the best damn actress in all of Earth and the cosmos, or she simply didn't know or care that I was associated with those Gundam guys who were supposedly prolonging the war.

    Suddenly she reached down into the inside of her right combat boot, pulling out a little white card.  She tossed it on the table in front of me, turned, and strode away all in one fluid movement.  I stared at her retreating back, tempted to yell some smart-ass comment, but decided against it for some reason.

    I looked down at the card.  There were only a few words, really.  Somnium Recondo, with what I assumed was a name scribbled beside it... Dori M. U. Shokkou.  What a name, I thought.  What a card.

    What a meeting.

To be continued....