Shounen-ai, spoilers for the Gundam Wing series, possibly. Wierdness warning. Call this a warning to all Semes who mess their adorable Ukes about. Zechs-bashing!
Gundam Wing isn’t mine, nor, unfortunately is Hell… Nor is Weiss Kreuz.
“I want to live, I want to love
But it’s a long, hard road out of hell”
- Marilyn Manson & Sneaker Pimps
The first thing that assaulted his senses was the awful, overpowering smell of eggs, coupled with roast pork. There was a charred taste in the air. The air hot and overpowering. Zechs sat up.
Where the hell? No, it wasn’t possible, was it?!
Zechs stared at the landscape before him. Sharp rising mountains, the sky tinted a sickly shade for red, as if lit from the light of a thousand bonfires, ash covering everything, screams in the distance echoing oddly, the pungent smell of sulphur and the other smell tainting the air… it wasn’t pork.
He looked round, panicking. What was the last thing he remembered? Relenna screaming his name, people rushing forward, the ringing of the gunshot in the hall. He’d been shot, killed. The last thing he remembered before the darkness had been a wave of vertigo overwhelming him. So, he was in Hell. Zechs began to laugh, it was too ridiculous to contemplate.
“And what do you find so funny mortal?” said a cold voice behind him.
He turned to regard a tall youth with oddly spiked hair. Zechs didn’t have time to voice a reply as the youth hauled him to his feet, slim hand literally burning into Zechs’ flesh. He was shoved forwards, stumbling.
“Wha-“
The ground seemed to open up under him and he was tumbling down into a vast pit.
Bruised and dazed Zechs tried to stand up, only to find that he no longer had any strength in his arms. A whip cracked right by his hand.
“On your feet vermin!”
Dorothy?! What was she doing here? Zechs sat, stunned, until she reached out a brushed a hand over his cheek, a hand that burned, cauterising the wound as she made it. Zechs screamed as he fell backwards. A whip lashed down on him, the incessant blows continuing as he phased in and out of consciousness.
Zechs couldn’t tell how long it continued for, then again came the familiar voice “On your feet!”
A hand reached out to tug him to his feet. Zechs stared, the touch didn’t burn. “Get up or they’ll start again.” The red-head whispered urgently. Zechs complied, awkwardly, stumbling after his companion.
Time passed but Zechs had no method to gauge it by. So this was eternity. His afterlife spent moving rocks from one pile to another for no apparent reason, being beaten by this strange demon that looked like Dorothy Catalonia. He supposed he should be thankful that it wasn’t Treize.
Apparently this was all the damned did, or so his companion had told him. Every so often some were taken away, for unspeakable purposes supposedly. No one knew since they never came back.
Zechs looked at his companion, Schudich, or so he called himself, was here because he’d been an assassin in life, at least that’s what he thought, though he couldn’t explain why he’d never seen some of the others he’d previously worked with. Men who were as much murderers as himself. He had one particular demon who tormented him, who would lash the backs of his legs while he was carrying those sharp rocks. Schudich called the demon Aya, apparently someone who’d been in the same trade as him.
Almost as if he’d heard Zechs’ thoughts Aya appeared, applying his whip to Schudich just as he tried to lift another rock. Schudich’s legs buckled and he fell forward. Aya smirked and walked away. Zechs was quick to help him up.
“… least it’s not Crawford.” He heard Schudich mutter. Zechs didn’t ask, any more than he would have explained who Treize was and why Treize had every right to hate him.
How long he’d been there he didn’t know. With each passing moment Zechs found it harder to remember anything redeeming in his life. Had he really been so evil? He supposed he must have been to warrant this. But if he was here, where was Treize? Heaven, he guessed but then, Treize hadn’t been evil at all really. Treize had been a man driven, who’d given up everything for his cause, to prove to humanity that war and destruction were wrong. Zechs wondered if that didn’t make Treize some sort of saint.
Behind him suddenly the noise stopped, the cracking of whips and the usual shouts of the demons. Almost automatically Zechs turned along with the other damned to look up at the normally empty platform projecting out over the pit. There was a throne there, upon which was seated a slim, young man, wearing what appeared to be some sort of military uniform. He didn’t appear to be looking at anything, just staring off at a fixed point in the distance. Frightening as the seemingly normal young man looked, it was one of the two figures that emerged beside the throne that captivated Zechs’ attention.
Treize stood beside the throne, looking out over the pit, seemingly searching for something. Zechs wanted to cry out but his voice had dried up in his throat. He barely noticed the figure on the other side of the throne. The flash of a white suit caught his eye peripherally but his gaze was locked on Treize’s face. He barely registered Schuldich gasping out a name beside him, as he watched Treize turn and leave.
Now they were in a strange room, the half a dozen damned that had been taken from the pit. On their knees on the strangely warm marble floor. Zechs cast a furtive glance about, there was him, Schulidch and four others he didn’t know. There were guards in black medieval armour standing round the edges of the room, not the usual demons, they had red eyes and various open wounds. Zechs shuddered, it wasn’t so much the physical pain but the mental distress that was Hell’s chief method of torture. Again, in the brief blink of an eye, the empty throne in this room was filled. The hollow-eyed young man again staring into nothing.
“Select one.” Echoed a distorted voice in Zechs’ head. The other man from earlier, the one in the white suit had appeared beside the throne and proceeded to inspect the damned before him. Beside him Schuldich whimpered softly. The man paused, peering down at Schuldich’s bowed head, then he grabbed a handful of red locks jerking Schuldich’s head up to stare into his eyes. “This one.” He said, with a cruel smile. He turned on his heel and strode from the room. Two of the guards began to haul Schuldich from the room after the man. Zechs caught the red-head’s glance as he was dragged from the room, feeling a chill creep over him, Schudich had hardly looked sane.
“Select one.” The distorted voice echoed again. Treize, unlike the other made no show of inspecting the damned before him. He strode directly up to Zechs and even assisted him climbing to his feet. Zechs heard laughter echoing in his mind and couldn’t help his wary glance at the silent youth.
“You will be reborn.” And this time he knew the distorted voice was speaking directly to him. “You are given a second chance. Fail in this and you will be returned to the pit, forever.”
Why is Treize here then? The though surfacing before he could consider the consequences.
“He serves us well.” The voice answered, sounding amused, “He always does.”
Zechs tried not to think.
“Justice has many children.” The voice continued “She is quite… prolific.” The voice dissolved into laughter.
Zechs sat blot upright in bed. Not that dream again, that horrid, twisted, messed up dream. Treize… always the dream implied that Treize would die. Zechs shut his eyes and tried not to think about it, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough troubles. He blinked, hurriedly throwing off the covers and reaching for his uniform. That idiot would be here today, the investigator Romfeller had sent to make sure that 01 was destroyed.
Looking at the man approaching him Zechs was sure something wasn’t right. The Romfeller investigator shouldn’t have a bodyguard, not one with flame-red hair, who called himself by a false name. Zechs gave himself a mental shake, he couldn’t have seen them before, they’d only just arrived… He discreetly pinched himself to check he wasn’t still dreaming. No one noticed, other than the bodyguard, who winked at him. Zechs was glad his mask hid his surprise.
Looking out across the stretch of water separating the
observation party from 01, Zechs shifted nervously. He checked over the controls, hesitating for a second before
turning to the engineers to inform them of a supposed fault. The investigator watched him
suspiciously. Zechs gave his orders and
turned to leave, leaving a very surprised investigator behind. “General Khushrenada is awaiting my return.” Was his only explanation.
Treize was equally surprised as his
favoured lieutenant entered his office.
“Gundam 01 has been
destroyed.” Zechs reported.
“Leave us, Une.”
Treize ordered, never taking his eyes from Zechs.
Treize rose from
behind his desk.
“Zechs… Milliardio…”
Treize could only
watch in stunned fascination as Zechs reached up to remove his mask, casting
aside the useless metal.
“Treize.” His voice barely a whisper. Treize reached out to clasp Zechs’ hands,
raising them to his lips, never breaking eye-contact. As those arms closed around him, Zechs surrendered his very soul
to the man he adored, somehow managing to ignore the distorted laughter than
was suddenly ringing in his head.
The slender youth stretched, arching
his back provocatively as he stared out of the seemingly windows at the burning
plains beneath. His tongue flickered
out between slightly parted lips almost tasting the charred flesh scenting the
air. Two more had surrendered their
souls, only two but it was enough. This
slow progression might have driven any other to impotent anger but not the
Morning Star. Not when there was
eternity at stake, for a victory such as that… the Morning Star had literally
angelic patience.
Err…
OK, from my point of
view, when Zechs refuses to destroy the captured 01, that’s the point when
things start to go wrong.
Why is Schuldich in
hell? It seemed a good place for him.
Dorothy and Aya as
demons just seemed appropriate, while the black armoured guards can be
considered a tribute to Daryoon. The
spiky-haired demon could be Fumma.
Basically Hell gives
Zechs a second chance by being reborn, though he’s just sent back into his
original life rather than another one.
And the Morning Star…
that’s Lucifer’s original title before he was cast into Hell, though most
Bibles won’t tell you that.
Maybe I shouldn’t
listen to Marylin Manson too much, I just happened to like the video for his
cover version of “Sweet Dreams”.
Narsus (16/12/01)