Reclamation Part 6
"What's this? A couple of drowned street rats?" a disembodied voice wondered from the rain's misty concealment.
Heero jumped at the sudden sound. Gazing up into the pouring precipitation he could just make out two sets of knee-high boots several feet from him and Duo.
Heero's steely eyes narrowed as they moved up legs encased in blue pants. A mixture of shock and anger surged through his gut as a higher survey showed blue uniform jackets embossed with the scarlet Crossed-Swords OZ insignia.
The taller of the two troopers aimed a SR42 Assault Rifle in the seated pairs' general direction, which was all that was required since the weapon's large caliber always resulted in serious injury.
His blue-suited partner leveled a pistol at Duo's head just looking for an excuse to splatter his brains all over the rain-slick ground.
In Heero's haste to retrieve his retreating friend he'd left all manner of protection behind and in his mind he could hear Wufei railing him for not carrying his pistol.
"How many times do I have to remind you?" his brother would mount his rebuke and Heero would have no rebuttal to offer in his defense.
But none of that matter now, not with such lethal firepower bearing down on him and his helpless comrade.
Under such dreadful circumstances, Heero could see no way out but he had to try. He plastered a stupid grin on his face and acted as though he wasn't surprised to find the Alliance's hired mercenaries hovering over him.
"I guess you're wondern' why my buddy and me are sittin' in the rain?" he slurred his words to make the soldiers believe he and his equally sodden friend had imbibed too much cheap brew.
The pistol's owner cocked his head in amusement, "This is even better," he declared, "two half-drowned drunken street rats."
The cunning rebel widened the lopsided grin and put the unfocused overcast of intoxication in his eyes. Letting his arm slide down Duo's back he crooked it around Duo's waist then, scooting on his bottom, the pseudo drunk used a wobbly movement to emphasize his imaginary inebriated condition.
Adding a lazy lisp to his speech, Heero drawled out. "Heeeey you awake?"
Keeping up his role in the ruse, Duo mumbled incoherently.
"Never could hold his liquor." Heero commented, lifting his hazy sight to secretly size up the situation and the troopers' reactions.
Unfortunately the pistol was still aimed squarely at the back of the Duo's head.
Heero braced his free hand in a slimy puddle, established his unstable equilibrium and guided his "drinking partner" up as he stood.
Of course Duo wasn't drunk but his feeble reactions played the part well. He even issued a low groan that was sure to convince the OZ bastards that he, too, was sloshed out of his mind.
At that moment, the rebels' only hope of escape was presenting themselves as two worthless citizens of the crumpling colony and the false intoxication was the best bluff they had.
By now the rain had eased to a trickle. The thunder was merely an echo through the manmade canyons of dilapidated buildings and litter-strewn street.
Reeling back and forth Heero kept up the charade pretending to struggle with his uncooperative cohort. "Damn it's wet out here." he declared using a board sweep of his hand to further distract the enemy.
Swaying once more, Heero wrapped his arm tighter around Duo's slumping body and shored up legs that refused to support his weight. "Guess we oughta find somewhere to sleep this off." he planted the notion of their non-threatening status in the soldiers' dim-witted reasoning.
From experience Heero had discovered most soldiers conscripted by the Alliance were chosen for their brawn not their brains. Most were robotic in their actions, simple-minded in their thoughts and if a superior wasn't around to give them orders they were easily confused.
There were advantages and disadvantages to this group mentality. The advantage, their judgment could usually be circumvented with a few well-placed suggestions. The disadvantage, the bewildered troopers were more inclined to be trigger-happy, often shooting first and figuring out the particulars after the fact.
Now Heero had to walk a thin line between redirecting the troopers' dim-witted thought processes and overloading their circuits.
One military moron tugged at his damp jacket's high collar that has begun to bind around his neck. He was bored, hungry and not in the mood to mess with these L2 lushes so he ran the gambit of solutions dealing with the problematic pair through his mind.
Killing them was the easiest resolution, one shot each and be done, but death reports involved a lot of shitty paperwork.
Even though OZ wouldn't care about the demise of a couple of colonists, the Alliance still believed in bureaucracy. The local officials had a damned form for everything and expected them to be filled on in triplicate.
While the soldier doubted that the Japanese man and his buddy would be missed or mourned, if his Commanding Officer found out about the unauthorized terminations there could be hell to pay.
Finally the rifle welding trooper decided the most viable option was to let them leave and forget about the entire encounter.
"You have three minutes to get your asses off the street or I'll put you under it." he ordered using his rifle to point across the way to a row of boarded up buildings.
Heero reinforced the cocky grin. "Yes Sir!" He gave a sloppy salute. "Won't take two minutes."
*********
About ten feet from the enemy lugging Heero's uncooperative comrade had become more difficult. Soggy, mud caked clothing made a sure embrace tricky and he had to grab a fistful of fabric to stop the slippage.
Without warning entangled fingers punched through weak threads, tore the shoulder seam loose and pulled the rent sleeve partly down his arm.
"Oops!" Heero exclaimed then glanced back at the soldiers to see if they were irritated with the slow progress.
The pistol owner shook his head in disgust and reconsidered dropping the pair where they stood. "Damn fuckin' drunks."
His partner, however, was neither annoyed nor appalled. As the torn sleeve revealed more than a creamy flesh, an interesting sight captured his attention. Colors and patterns invited a closer inspection.
"HALT!" he shouted raising the rifle to underscore the gravity of the order.
Heero froze.
A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach confirmed the escape plan had gone sour. If he'd been alone he might have challenged the soldiers and let the consequences be damned, however, he was not alone and, in all good conscience, couldn't risk a confrontation.
Maybe the bluff could still extract them from the mess. "We're goin' like you said." Heero declared, tugging Duo's lax body a few feet further.
The SR42 came up beside Heero's head and kept him in place as the trooper examined the tiger tattoo gracing Duo's bony shoulder blade.
Recognizing the inked emblem he proclaimed. "He's a member of the Red Tiger Gang."
At the pronouncement the second soldier raced around to flank Heero and Duo.
Heero knew of the four rival "Tiger Gangs". Each faction had taken a color--red, blue, yellow and green--to mark their identity and territory.
Made up of street thugs the gangs ruled the city's poorest sections. Some colonists viewed them as savors, some as criminals but the Alliance saw them as nuisances to be exterminated like any other pests infecting the city.
OZ had been given free reign when it came to eradicating the gangs and they'd become quite efficient in their elimination.
"Shit." Heero whispered under his breath, "Damn it Duo but your tattoo just signed our death warrants." he informed the half-lucid man who gave no indication he either heard or understood.
Guilt by association. Heero's inner voice stated.
The rifle's hollow barrel pressed into Heero's temple so hard it made his head hurt. A soft click told him the powerful weapon had been cocked and ready to deliver its death duty.
"You'll die first." the soldier informed Heero.
"Then we'll enjoy separating this son of a bitch from his soul." his partner confirmed that Duo was the intended target of protracted torture before his eventual demise.
Heero held Duo as close as physically possible then made the hardest decision of his life. He'd promised his protection and now he'd fulfill that pledge.
Duo would be spared both the physical anguish and mental torment of torture; he'd already suffered too much. All Heero had to do was snap Duo's neck. One sharp crack, the misery would end and for that quick release he would be grateful.
Heero Yuy might be on the verge of his eternal rest but there'd not be a single night of undisturbed sleep for the gunman.
He locked his sight on Duo's executioner. He wanted the soldier to see the hate in his eyes, he wanted the pure loathing to be forever etched in the man's mind and be revisited again and again in his dreams.
Cursing the fates or whatever deities ruled his destiny, Heero drew in a steadying breath and slipped his hands around Duo's throat.
Strangely Duo reacted with a sigh as if he was quite content in his guardian's grasp.
Heero's centered sight never wavered. He knew as soon as Duo was dead the soldiers would fire in unison, but it didn't matter. Now he saw dread flicker across the soldiers' enlarged pupils and in the same instant fear joined the betraying display.
"Got you, you sons of Satan." Heero declared lowly as he increased the pressure on Duo's neck.
"STAND DOWN!" was shouted from behind the rebels.
The rifle eased its pressure and slipped back a bit leaving a red, rounded mark on Heero's temple. The pistol drooped but not nearly enough to stay its lethal aim as both soldiers searched to find the person redirecting their deadly intensions.
Heero's hands dropped away.
A tall slender man with a long silvery mane stepped from the shadows. He held a pearl-handled pistol, a slender, sheathed sword hung from the leather belt encircling his slim waist.
Immediate recognition showed in the soldiers' surprised expression and they snapped to attention.
Commander Zechs Merquise, Senior Officer in charge of the Tactical Forces of OZ, stalked forward with cat-like grace.
*********
Heero had witnessed firsthand Commander Merquise's cold and calculated combat. Only hours after the first OZ units arrived on L2, Heero and Wufei had hid in an alley and watched as Merquise piloted a huge Mecha named the Gundam Epyon through the streets.
Leading seven smaller Leo Class Mobile Suits, Merquise and his squad unleashed a barrage of firepower that leveled everything in their path. The lethal display, carried out with ruthless proficiency, left no doubt that his authority was absolute.
That day both brothers made a pact. They would never yield to the despotic Alliance or the silver-haired devil aptly called the Lightning Baron who carried out their tyrannical wishes.
That night Chang Wufei, Heero Yuy and other loyal Outlanders fled the city, established the first Cluster and forged a united coalition that would fight to the last man to regain their freedom.
*********
"What is going on here?" Merquise asked as he took a wide route around the Japanese male and his less than lucid friend.
"Sir, we found these dangerous members of the Red Tigers and were about to terminate them." the rifle's owner dutifully reported.
"Dangerous?" Merquise snickered. With a hint of amusement in his husky voice he declared. "They don't look dangerous to me."
Merquise moved closer taking a moment to study the damp duet. Using his pistol's barrel he lifted Duo's braid then let the platted tresses slip over the silver metal.
"This one is too pretty to kill." Merquise announced.
Tilting his head sideways silky stands of platinum hair cascaded over his broad shoulders. "Bring them back to Headquarters." he ordered then holstered his pistol since he was certain even a pair of Privates could handle the youthful twosome.
At once Heero took exception to the Commander's arrogant attitude. In fact he decided the bastard's entire mindset was in serious need of a radical readjustment. It would probably make matters worse but, hell, sometimes pride can be more important than pain.
"The Lighting Baron." Heero hissed out the title, putting every bit of contempt he could muster into his tone.
If Merquise took notice of the deliberate vulgarity it was not apparent in either his expression or his posture. "So you know who I am?"
"Everyone knows you're the murdering son of a bitch who's the Alliance's lapdog."
Merquise bowed in mock politeness. "Ah, I see my reputation has preceded me."
"You wouldn't be so brave if you didn't have your lackeys to hide behind." Heero issued the insult.
That ought to do it. Heero's inner voice confirmed the brashness of the challenge.
Merquise lifted one eyebrow but Heero couldn't tell if the gesture was one of interest or irritation or a little of both. "If you cooperate and tell me what I want to know perhaps I'll give you a chance to test my bravery."
"If I don't cooperate?"
"Then we'll have a very short relationship."
Heero carefully eased down his braided bundle who offered no resistance as he settled onto the filthy pavement. It might be Heero's last act but he was not going anywhere voluntarily.
What about Duo? his inner voice inquired.
Both of us are already dead. Heero mentally replied, willingly accepting his and the Duo's fate.
"Why don't we dance now?" Heero growled before charging at Merquise with a murderous gleam in his rage-narrowed eyes.
Inches away from the Lightning Baron, who unflinchingly stood his ground, the rifle-welding soldier intervened. Sliding the stock into his hands he rotated the butt up in a high arc then brought it to bear between Heero's shoulders.
A flash of white light exploded behind Heero's eyes. Sharp pain raced from the contact site up and down his spine at the same time with such force he never saw the ground as it came up to meet him. A solid thud and a powerful expelling of air accented his journey into the ebony void of oblivion.
Merquise squatted beside his fallen challenger who lay next to the fascinating braided boy. "I promise we will dance soon."
*********
Heero floated surrounded by rushing air. A vague sensation impression of tingling currents prickled over his body. This formless buoyancy was not frightening nor did he seem lost. There was an actual comfort to the weightless drifting as if he'd been freed from the fleshy confines of his body's mass and heaviness.
His mind was filled with flickers of soft multi-colored lights. Whispered sounds fluttered like a thousand brilliant butterflies batting and bumping inside his head.
From the phantom periphery voices mingled with the butterflies. At first the undistinguishable bits of noise swirled in a haphazard manner. Slowly the resonance blended together but he couldn't assemble the sounds into a recognizable pattern.
His mind fought to followed the voices. A stronger perception scattered the bothersome butterflies then urged him to travel passed the black barrier of unconsciousness.
Gradually the feathery sensations gave way to a sluggish alertness. Now his brain felt as though it was totally tangled in cobwebs. A dull ache made his head seem twice its size and a raw tenderness pulsed along his shoulders.
Bit by bit Heero became aware of warmth integrating with the soreness that inundated every part of his body. Eyelids fluttered but his clouded vision offered limited insight to the world around him.
He blinked several times to wash away the tacky coating and as his eyesight improved a shadowy shape emerged from the reawaking twilight.
Merquise! Heero's mind warned as the OZ Commander was the last person his muddled brain remembered.
An adrenaline surge turned the tingle into searing pain as if boiling water was coursing through his veins. Spurred on by unadulterated hatred Heero blindly struck out at his nemesis.
Hands balled into anger-clenched fists, arms swung wildly at the Alliance's hired assassin but it didn't take long for his impaired strength to give out completely.
Lying on his back, drenched in cold sweat Heero came to the realization that the phantom shape was a fabrication of his altered senses. Forcing himself to relax, a deep breath calmed his nerves and additional blinks cleared his sight.
Readjusted vision presented a more accurate picture of his surroundings.
The first thing that came into view was a bare light bulb glaring overhead. Secoundly his sight's expanding scope told him that he was in a small windowless room with a single door. Lastly his ears took over the investigative exploring and he could hear muted voices and footsteps outside the door.
Take them back to Headquarters. the Commander's order echoed in his mind.
Heero was a prisoner of OZ and if they found out who he really was, well, let's just say Merquise would have a valuable prize to brag about.
Then a faint, nearby noise caught his attention. Cautiously he turned his head then winced when stiffness in his neck and shoulders registered a protest.
Huddled in the corner about a yard away Duo beheld his friend with sad sight. His frayed braid hung over his right shoulder and the bath had been undone by rain and muddy streets causing him to once again resemble a forsaken urchin.
Duo was pale, shaky and Heero didn't like the way the halting breaths caught in his lungs.
With considerable effort Heero pushed up until his back rested against the rough-hewn wall. "Are you all right?" he asked even though he could clearly hear each labored intake of air.
Duo pulled his knees closer to his chest and nodded "yes" but Heero knew he was lying.
Carefully testing his marginal mobility Heero sat straighter. "I feel like I've been run over by a truck." he stated rubbing his neck to ease the throbbing in his head.
Duo shifted in place. His lips quivered and Heero was certain he was fighting back tears.
"We'll be all right. Wufei will come for us." Heero offered the reassurance as a despondent tear tracked down Duo's dirt-streaked cheek.
Moving with extreme prudence, afraid that any sudden movement might cause his head to fall from his shoulders, Heero braced on his hands and knees, crawled to Duo and tentatively reached up to intercept the single salty droplet.
Reverting to his fear-induced apprehension, Duo drew up and turned his body away but Heero was persistence. "I'm not going to hurt you. Come on you know you can trust me."
"Let me hold you." Heero requested as he slid to sit beside the trembling young man.
Wrapping his arms about Duo's much too thin frame Heero pulled him close and prayed he had no memory of their previous encounter with the soldiers.
At the tender touch all remaining fortitude faded. Duo collapsed into a heap and laid his head in Heero's lap.
"I won't leave you no matter what happens." Heero promised, tucking stringy hair behind Duo's ear.
Duo twisted onto his back to gaze up at his pledged guardian. The isolation in Heero's eyes was heartbreaking and underlying the loneliness was a longing that spoke volumes about a life almost ruined beyond reclaiming.
Since his mother's death, Heero had locked his heart away from the painful separation. He had required nothing more than a mere existence free from the shackles of love. Yet that first night when he saw the "scarecrow" cowering in the darkness something had stirred in the dormant recesses of his soul.
Daring to tempt the fates, Heero leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on Duo's temple.
This time Duo didn't resist.
Encouraged, Heero dotted another kiss on a grubby cheek, another down Duo's jaw then studied his expression for any sign that he'd gone too far.
Lips that were still luscious in spite of being chapped and cracked begged to be kissed and Heero was so compelled to fulfill his overwhelming desire he temporarily forgot his and Duo's captive circumstances.
Heero tried to convince himself that lust wasn't directing the kiss. Likewise, he tried to deny that Duo had unfettered his chained emotions.
The brushing kiss sent a teasing tingle through Duo's body. He closed his eyes and cupped his hand behind his savior's head with an insistence pressure that left no room for misunderstanding.
The kiss deepened. Breathes came in pounding puffs. Duo slipped his tongue inside Heero's mouth to taste and be tasted.
Guiding his hand between the Duo's legs Heero fondled his crotch. A soft moan flowed through the kiss.
More rubbing. More feverish friction.
Heero tightened his grip then pressed his own growing erection against Duo's hip.
At the rougher, more insistence manipulations Duo's eyes flew opened. Flattening his hands on Heero's chest he pushed back as hard as he could. A strangled whimper broke the kiss as he struggled under Heero's suffocating weight.
"No."
Stunned by Duo's unpredicted shift from passionate to panic, Heero flopped back on his butt.
Finally free Duo scooted backward, curled into a protective ball and, covering his face with his arms, quivered like a leaf in a windstorm.
Guilt tore through Heero. Moments before he'd felt so alive now he was numb with remorse.
"Duo look at me." he pleaded as he tried to see the hidden face. "Please." He begged but made no move to touch him.
Peering through a cascade of bangs stuck over his forehead Duo's eyes that had intensified from lavender to deep purple, answered with a glower that caused Heero to recoil from the cynical sight.
"I'm sorry." he whispered sincerely as he realized that lust had indeed dictated his actions. "I had no right to impose myself on you. Can you forgive my weakness?"
One arm lifted but only enough for a guarded look. A shuddering breath escaped from lungs that had begun to seize up. The arm rose higher.
Trust was such a complicated concept. Like a double-edged sword it could be the innocence of a child, the steadfast devotion of a friend or the ultimate sacrifice of a lover but it could also utterly destroy someone's faith once it had been betrayed.
Heero begged for forgiveness but could Duo risk his soul's last tattered remnants by granting that absolution?
Duo was well aware of his and Heero's perilous plight. There was no one else to count on, no other hope of survival and if death was to be their destiny no one else to share the journey into the afterlife.
All Duo had left was trust, but could the possibility of being hurt overshadow his fear of dying alone?
"I forgive you." Duo offered his unconditional pardon.
Heero breathed out a relieved sigh. "Wufei will come for us," he reiterated his confidence in his brother and the Cluster, "but if something should happen before he does-"
Duo pressed a finger on Heero's lips to halt his words. "Then we'll face it together."
Heero leaned nearer and with an uncharacteristic timidness took Duo's hand. "Would you grant me one favor?"
"Yes."
"Could you tell me your surname?"
Expressive eyes locked onto Heero's face. Ashen lips quivered as if trying to form long ago forgotten syllables then Duo broke down the final barrier guarding his true identity.
Trust pure and simple.
"Duo Maxwell."
TBC...
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