Author: Alana Winters
Warnings: AU, OOC, angst, dark, yaoi, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. (see previous chapters - yes, that's a shameless plug ^_~)
Pairings: 2x1, 4x5x3
Disclaimers: not mine, if you want what's mine, you'll get several thousand dollars in loans and textbooks ^_^
*....* indicates internal thought
~~~~ used to break scenes
www.geocities.com/alanawinters/Forest.html
alanawinters@yahoo.com feedback is welcome, flames are not, thanks!
Author's notes: okay, this is the prologue for Book Two of Gundam Forest. I suppose you could read Book Two without reading Book One... but why in the world would you want to?? ^_^;; No seriously, if you want to understand much of the plot, check out Book One. But let's recap, shall we? Heero's immortal after eating mermaid flesh, the five pilots separated for a year but are now reunited, only Trowa has left mysteriously. There is a young girl and a woman who are after Heero for some reason and Dr. J is meddling around with experiments. Also, Heero hasn't seen the last of Teishu from the Girou and a certain honey-blonde girl with a few surprises up her sleeves will be making her entrance soon.
Gundam Forest Book 2: Nor Sheds a Single Tear Prologue
KA - BOOM!
The earth literally trembled as a terrible explosion decimated the building to its foundations. As stone and mortar fell victim to gravity, fires hungrily licked at the remaining debris, the scorching flames eagerly consuming all that lay in their paths. Dark smoke billowed from the burning areas, thick and choking.
The late morning sky, a dawn that had risen with such new promise, was now a hazy stretch of blue hidden behind dark clouds of smoke. Heat from the burning fires made the air waver, distorting visions. And still, as fiercely as the fires burned, they too quickly lost their lives, smoldering down to mere embers of their former selves.
The smells and sights of blood and destruction filled the area, permeating the morning atmosphere. Tainting the celebration of life with its unforgiving and unavoidable partner of death. The endless waltz between the two was continuing on in its triple measure of life, death, and rebirth. Death was now at its peak, having gained the upper hand over the other two, eager to show its mastery once more, before it succumbed to the lure of tentative slumber.
And yet, the mysteries and wonders of nature's laws did not pierce the aura of the one figure still moving amid the burning rubble. The current situation of death and danger meant little to the shadowy figure that carefully skirted through the smoldering remnants of the once expensive laboratory.
Attired entirely in black, the figure blended in perfectly with the still rising smoke. Moving through the thick, hazy air with the ease of the familiar, the figure was nearly silent. The only audible evidence of passage was the short, sharp click of steel booted heels clacking on broken stone. The air, wavering due to the rising smoke, created the illusion of a ghost like presence, granting the figure an aura of surrealism. The figure continued to move through the rubble, unheeding, or ignoring, the heat emanating from the more stubborn of the lingering flames.
The stranger in black was non-descript, almost a shadow in itself. Though clad in black and armed for combat, the figure was unmistakably female, necessary anatomically female characteristics evident even through the darkness of her clothing. Although female in form, the figure moved with the authority of one familiar with one's work, projecting a touch-me-at-your-own-risk aura. Not an inch of bare skin showing, even her hair was concealed from prying, unwanted eyes, the woman continued on her journey through the wreckage.
The figure moved into a demolished area of the building's foundation, the pathway clear of the fires that had already extinguished themselves. The thick, nauseating stench of burnt flesh lingered in the air, though all evidence of mortal passage had been merrily consumed by the passing fiery hunger. The woman lowered her head to her chest, quietly sending the lost souls to the heavens beyond with her prayer.
A suddenly conspicuous whirring noise captured the stranger's attention and her head whipped up to glance into the sky. She anxiously searched the air until her gaze fell upon the rapidly disappearing form of a black helicopter. Although concealed by her facemask, the woman's eyes narrowed in quiet fury, even as her body suddenly tensed with anger. The only outward evidence of her current emotional state was the tense clenching in both of her hands.
Her head suddenly cocked to the side as a deeper rumble seemed to echo and chase after the sounds of the helicopter's blades. At first she thought she had missed the second aircraft, that the noise was indeed the echo of another helicopter. But as the sound continued to increase in volume and deepen in pitch, she abandoned that hypothesis as no aircraft became evident.
The rumbling of the ground beneath her feet indicated that she had been correct in abandoning her first theory. The ground beneath her feet began to shake and rattle as if threatening to split apart to swallow her whole; to claim her flesh in retribution for that which was lost in the fire of her doing.
Moving quickly and agilely, the woman rolled to the side, uncaring of the soot and dirt that clung to her outfit, marring the endless black. Using the momentum of her impromptu gymnastics, she gracefully gained her feet, her body held in motion. With a fluid movement, born of evident practice and familiarity, she withdrew her preferred weapon, holding it at the ready.
The sunlight that managed to cut through or evade the rising clouds of smoke reflected off the deadly honed blade of her sword. The well-oiled hilt fit snuggly into her gloved hand, as if it were custom made for its current bearer. While perhaps the weapon did not fit in with her more modern arsenal of destructive devices, nevertheless it was still an effective and deadly tool.
The woman's attention was torn between focusing in on the erupting ground with its nasty surprise and on keeping her footing on the unsteady earth. Her covered head darted back and forth as a rising and horrifying wail suddenly filled the air, its source coming from the disturbance beneath the ground.
A loud cry erupted from the earth, a mixture of mindless rage and dementia. The woman had a brief moment to wonder who or what was emitting such a horrible shriek when her question was suddenly answered. The earth burst from where it lay, spewing forth in a shower of dirt, grass, rocks, and concrete shards.
A dark form rose from the ground, rising to block the sunlight. Although the sun was at the creature's back, and her eyesight was a bit hindered by her face mask, the woman's sharp gaze quickly sought out the more prominent features of her massive foe.
Standing at a monstrous height of more than seven feet, the creature facing her with such mindless rage was something horrifying straight out of the worst nightmare. Although the creature had a hunched back, its shoulders were broad and massive, indicating a terrifying strength. The creature was humanoid in shape, vaguely resembling the form of a man, but several of its extremities were different.
The arms ended in a pair of massive hands, adorned not with fingers but with three razor sharp and deadly claws. The head was round and distorted, a mutation on the traditional human skull. A pair of eyes, large and bulbous, protruded from the flesh, lidless and wild. The nose of the creature was nothing more than two wide slits in the creature's flesh, and were eclipsed by the wide mouth. Lips resembling those of an amphibian were curled up in a snarl, exposing the mouthful of razor sharp fangs dripping with saliva.
The creature had no hair on its body except for a handful of stringy black strands that fell over the hunched back. The distended spine arose from the flesh in a hard ridge emphasizing the mutated skeletal structure of the creature. The skin of the creature reeked, giving off a stench of death and decay, with raised veins and arteries snaking all over the naked torso.
The woman squared off with her horrifying opponent, securing her grip on her weapon. In a muttered voice filled with both disgust and pity, the woman gave a name to her foe. "A Lost Soul. Another foolish mortal seeking immortality."
With a shriek of attack, the lost soul launched its massive body forward, claws curled in anticipation of striking. Though massive and lethal, the creature attacked with more brute strength than cunning, lacking the necessary wits to make a strategic foray. Saliva dripped from its open mouth that was wide with its teeth bared. The eyes, devoid of any lingering human intellect, merely saw a moving target and struck out.
The woman, smaller and more agile, neatly ducked beneath the creature's outstretched claws, evading the potentially lethal attack. Seeing an opening, she clutched the hilt of her sword tightly in her hand and thrust forward, intending to end this battle swiftly. In a faintly suicidal move, she thrust her sword deep into the creature's open mouth, the sharp blade slicing through flesh and bone. The blow struck true and deep, slicing through the creature's brain and emerging from the back of the distorted head.
The creature immediately froze, a death rattle emerged from its throat as a vague hiss. Suddenly, in its death throes, the lost soul's mouth locked, its jaws clenching around the woman's arm in its mouth. The woman hissed in pain as the creature's fangs embedded themselves in her covered flesh; her blood welled up to stain the arm of her outfit.
The woman yelped as the creature's body started to fall, giving in to gravity, and she was forced down with it or potentially lose her arm. The weight of the creature on her body was tremendous, heavy in its mutated mass. The woman gritted her teeth and then alternated to biting her lip as she attempted to pry the creature's mouth open with her free hand.
After a brief struggle, the woman managed to extract her arm and sword from the creature with a wet squish. Her arm, mangled and bloody, was forced to drop her sword on the ground beside her. The woman took a few deep breaths before she attempted to heave the beast off of her. With a grunt of effort, she managed to free herself and pushed the corpse away.
For a few brief moments, she continued to lie on her back, gathering her breath. After she had recomposed herself, she sat up and addressed the issue of her bloody arm. She slid off her gory glove, the black leather ripped and torn. Rolling up the ruined sleeve of her tunic, she inspected the damage. Although crimson blood lay splattered across her pale skin, the wounds inflicted by the lost soul were already closed, the flesh healthy and whole.
The woman flexed her hand and arm a few times and then turned her gaze back to the lost soul's corpse. Shaking her head in pity, she picked herself up off the ground. Grabbing her sword up, she attempted to clean the gore and blood off on a patch of grass, and then resheathed the blade.
After ensuring that no other grisly surprises were waiting to rise from the earth to confront her, the woman sighed and pulled off her facemask. A mass of golden honey tresses, captured into a serviceable bun, and a pair of bright blue eyes greeted the sun that had managed to dispel most of the haze from the ruined building.
Her generous mouth was pulled into a grim frown as she surveyed the site and the corpse. She reached to her belt with her unstained hand and pulled free her communicator. Pressing on a button, she opened an auditory channel and spoke.
"Barton."
A brief spurt of static greeted her before her unseen companion answered.
"Barton here. Successful capture?"
The woman answered back in a terse tone, short and to the point. "Negative. Subject has eluded me again."
"Pursuit?" came the quick inquiry.
"Impossible. She got away by using a damned 'Lost Soul' to distract me. She could be anywhere by now."
"Damage?"
"Negligible. A few cuts and scrapes."
"I meant the laboratory and the employees there."
A brief pause before she continued with, "...tragic, but necessary."
"Survivors?"
"... none..."
The woman could almost imagine her companion closing his eyes in silent regret and remorse, but just for a moment. Heaven knew that he was no stranger to death and the casualties of war. His next statement reflected no emotion, solidifying her assumption.
"Retrieval?"
The woman cocked her head to the side for a moment, her sharp hearing catching the sounds of distant sirens. It seemed that the authorities of the nearest town had finally noticed the commotion and were coming in to investigate. It would be better if she wasn't around.
"Yes," she answered in the affirmative.
"Be there in five."
"Meet me half a mile away, east of the site," she quickly added. No sense in her hanging around the immediate area.
"Understood."
The woman ended the conversation by severing the connection. With one last sweep of the immediate area, she whisked herself away towards the meeting site.
The chase was on again and this time her prey would not elude her.
This she swore.
TBC...
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