see part one for disclaimers
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Peacecraft Fallen Chapter Two
"Mission accepted." Heero intoned, powering down the computer and grabbing the coat to his school uniform. Duo put down his manga, looking puzzled as Heero practically ran out the door without saying a word. He looked at the laptop, feeling hurt for a moment before he got to his feet, sighed, and headed for the hangar.
Miles away
Wing Zero sheered through a line of OZ mobile suits, its pilot cackling madly as flames rose in a billowing cloud behind his destructive path. The valley was cratered and hellish in the cloud-covered twilight; wreckage covered the ground, the two Gundams raining death on their enemies like gods.
Duo's scythe swept through a mobile suit, his face grinning wildly even as his violet eyes went dead. His scythe came down again-
- and crashed to a halt against the flaring weapon of his foe.
The other mobile suit was black, matte black and slim like a shadow; it was almost skeletal, and fast as death. Those stick-thin limbs blurred with their speed, and crashed against Gundam Deathscythe with more-than-gundanium strength. Duo fell back with a shout of alarm, blocking frantically with the shaft of his scythe.
"Heero! It's a new type of mibile suit!"
Heero swung about, cobalt eyes gleaming briefly.
"Mission objective's changed. New mission accepted. Destroy new battle prototype."
Heero's suit rose above the flames, winged thrusters roaring as Duo got in a thrust. The cold blue fire of the black suit's thermal glave glinted off Deathscythe's enamel-black surface; the bladed staff slammed into Duo's suit, and he stubled under the blow.
Wing Zero rammed the black suit, sending them both spiralling through the ranks of the few remaining OZ soldiers, shredding the suits like tissue paper.
Heero's eyes blinked open; all he saw was red, the trickle of blood running from his scalp obscuring his view of the battlefield. The communicator was yammering at him with Duo's voice; the enemy mobile suit was nowhere in sight, and the OZ suits lay about them in a tangled pile of scrap metal and ash.
"Heero. Heero, answer me! Shimatta!"
"Duo?" His voice rasped, smoke-damaged and fragile.
"Heero?!" Duo grasped the edge of his screen as though he could touch his partner on the other end; he nearly sobbed in relief.
"Shut up."
Duo drug Wing Zero and its semi-concious pilot to a nearby safehouse, deciding that the school wouldn't welcome them back in this condition. He deposited Heero in bed, tended to his wounds in spite of his partner's grumbling, and finally climbed into the shower with a groan of relief.
Heero stared up at the water-stained ceiling, the events of the past battle running mercilessly through his mind. Duo's death, his own defeat, and that enemy suit . . . . . He tossed and turned restlessly, torn skin catching on the sheets, unable to find rest in the hissing of the shower. His broken ribs creaked with each move, but he couldn't rest. Duo was singing to himself softly; Heero could just barely hear him above the water, that silk-on-steel voice husking the words to some old song about love and hate with all the passion of a lov . . .er?
Heero shook himself again, his thoughts scattering in the heavy wave of sleep that battered him into submission.
A few days later
Heero was still in bed, wary of Duo's threatened incessant chatter if he didn't rest; he remained under the wrinkled sheets, even though Duo was in town buying groceries. His thoughts were still on the battle, and his failed mission. He would've self-destructed by now, except he didn't think he could make it to Wing Zero without getting caught by Duo. Who would then talk him to death, so either way . . .
He was working up the motivation to move, when the mission-beep emanated from his softly-glowing laptop. He jackkifed upright, grunting at the pull of reopened wounds, and ran to the computer.
ACCESS CODE: _________________
Heero glared at the softly-blinking space, typing in the line of characters one-handed, fumbling for the accompanying disk with the other. The mission came up, and he smirked slightly, pleased.
"Ninmu Ryokai."
Her naked back was to the door, black angel wings brushing her shoulder to hip; her flame-red hair hugged her scalp like a cap of sleek fur, cut very short and practical. Her head turned, Heero's soft grunt of surprise alerting her to his presence; he snaped up his gun, the barrel fixing unwaveringly on her icy blue eyes . . .
Heero started, recognizing that gaze from . . . . somewhere.
"Relena?" He asked, his voice only faintly betraying his sudden feeling of dislocation. Those familiar eyes twisted into a vicious scowl, and she turned the rest of her body, bringing up the slim Berretta held in her left hand.
"First mistake, 'Perfect Soldier.'" She taunted, and fired.
At the first word coming out of that unfamiliar mouth, Heero's overly-trained mind began to click furiously; when the gun went off, he was already moving.