Story

Gundam Wing isn't mine and I claim no rights to it. Don't sue me, I'm a poor college kid that's so poor I'm going to a semester late. All I have is fishnets, spikes, and a JTHM comic... Everything else is in storage.

When the war started, I fought for a reason. To me it was the perfect reason. To keep others from feeling what I have, there's only one god of death and I want it to stay that way. But the most important reason? For Deathscythe. Not orphans, humans, or peace. Not even for myself, not vengence, no. I did it for Deathscythe. They were gonna turn my buddy into a monster... what could I do? They were gonna use him to drop colonies and kill millions. So I rescued him. Well not rescued but screwed up and "stole" him. So sue me. I'm not perfect. I never will be. I have flaws, I'm marred, my hands are stained with blood. Hell, I don't even have my innocence. I lost that before I hit the double digits. What am I? I'm Duo Maxwell, a murderer, a pilot, a fuck up, a kid. While you sleep in your bed at night I kill and fight and do what I have to do. If I didn't? You wouldn't be cozy in your bed. But now my reasons for fighting have changed. I do what I have to because it's my job, I'm tied to this fate and I can't change it, I can't bring the dead to life. So now I'm a robot. I perform my duty and and it's over. They say murder leads to insanity, and truthfully death does take it's toll on the living. Sometimes I laugh during battle, sometimes I wonder if I'm still human. Am I alive? I guess I'm not certain in this war. What do I know? I know that once something is broken to many times it will shatter beyond repair. So how do you fix a broken spirit? How do you mend a soul who lost their feelings? How do you bring life back into dead eyes. Can you tell the dead from the living? But most importantly, does it even matter in the end? How do you know when you've been broken?

Duo rushed to get in and out of the shower, well rush as much as one can with several feet of hair. He grabbed a tall and shivered and cold air washed over him. He really had wanted a longer shower, but he was clean and there were other people to consider. Not to mention he shedded like a bitch. Which was hard for the other pilots to cope with... especially when you pulled a 3 foot hair off the back to the couch. Getting dressed as fast as possible he braided his hair and ran out the door. After all, breakfast was waiting for him, and he didn't even have to cook it. Duo was a good cook, regardless of the misconceptions, it was assumed by guests because, well, they never saw him cook. But the other pilots had vetoed it when Quatre suggested that finding a 3 foot long hair in his dinner would really be disturbing. Of course Duo was a little mad, he never got his hair in the food, but man did Quatre have a point, it would be a little disgusting....
Duo trudged into the kitchen as four pairs of eyes found his, so he put on his happy face. By now it was instinct to smile, lie with his mouth and plead with his eyes.