FEARS
By Dalton

       Wufei lay still on his hard cot; arms slung limp across the rhythmic rise and fall of his bare chest. Everything about him was a picture of a young man deep within the relaxing grip of sleep. So calm and peaceful the features upon his face seemed, but the sudden flip of eyelids betrayed the restlessness beneath the surface. He tried once more to concentrate and focus on his breathing and the methodical beating of his heart, but the gentle snores from the figure on the cot next to him was making it difficult..
       With a resigned sigh, the weary young man sat up and turned a tired eye upon Trowa's slack form. The pilot of HeavyArms was obviously unaffected by the small noise that whistled through his partially opened lips. His long bangs fluttered slightly from the expulsion of air, then settled back neatly upon his smooth brow.
        Wufei glanced over the other sleeping shadows in the room. Twelve cots in all occupied the temporary bunkroom, but only five were taken, and it was toward the other four that Wufei now sent his gaze. The young Arabian shifted in his sleep, muttering some incomprehensible nonsense about smashed apples. Duo seemed to reply with a slight cough as he, once again, twisted around the tiny cot, flinging one stocking foot off the bed. The perfect soldier lay closest to Duo's violently turning form. Perfect even in sleep, Heero was the only one silent and unmoving, almost as still as a corpse. Wufei wished to be where that soldier was; lost in his own much needed rest; but he could not sleep. He so much wanted to blame the noise around him, but the disciplined young man knew that would be an untruth.
       Making up his mind, Wufei slipped quietly out of his bed, careful not to wake the others. He grunted inwardly at the effort he was making to be silent. It wasn't likely anything he did would wake them if their own activities didn't do it. Still, the young man intended to show the other exhausted pilots the respect of an uninterrupted night's sleep. He grabbed his jacket off the corner of the cot and started for the door when his foot came in contact with a silky snake. He pulled his foot back slowly, quirking a brow at Duo's body half sprawled out onto the floor. How his head traded places with his feet, Wufei could only marvel. Another turn and the god of death would be kissing the floor. Wufei considered letting the idiot follow the inevitable course his tossings were taking him, but his insomnia made him generous. Grasping the silken cord in one hand, Wufei skillfully wound the braid around the metal posts at the foot of the cot. Perhaps that would anchor him and stop the ceaseless churnings of the Deathscythe pilot.
       An uneasy dread filled Wufei when he pulled the bunkroom door shut behind him. The cold underground hallway stretched out before him, the weak florescent lights cast blinking shadows along its length. The sight was almost parallel to the hallway in his nightmare. Slipping his naked arms into the sleeves of his jacket, Wufei willed himself to walk down the long, chilling length. In the dream, he had been running and the hall had seemed to go on forever. Wufei glared at the white concrete floor, daring it to stretch toward eternity and bar his progress. Always face your fears, he instructed himself, specially the ones hidden behind the unreal. Smirking, he turned into the open doorway of the room they had used as a mess hall. He had won the imaginary battle against the demon hall.
       The mess room was, indeed, a mess. Empty tins, half filled paper cups, and crinkled napkins still sat on the table where the group had hastily downed their meager dinner just hours before. Ash and oil stained the place where Heero had performed his ritual cleaning of his weapons; a dirty rag hung from the back of the chair. A used tea bag sat neatly on top of a folded napkin in front of the only chair that had been pushed back under the table. Wufei had to give Quatre credit for maintaining a sense of manners while surrounded by the chaotic disregard of the other pilots. Though Duo was the criminal responsible for most of the food mess, Wufei grudgingly had to admit his own remnants of dinner were just as guilty for adding to the litter on the table. Swiping away some crumbs, the young man pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. There was a thud as something banged against the back of the chair. Wufei was surprised to see Trowa had left his gun still sitting in the shoulder holster hanging on the chair.
       "Carelessness." The young Chinaman muttered under his breath as his hands groped under the table, "I'm surrounded by noisy, filthy, careless fools." A smile made its way to his eyes as his fingers gripped the treasure he had tucked under the extra leaf of the table. With a tug, two sheathed knives fell into his waiting palms. Placing the two items reverently before him, Wufei closed his eyes and sought to banish the disruptive thoughts of his fellow gundam pilots. He pulled one protective sheath off and his eyes opened to rest on the curved gleam of the wicked blade. His thumb ran across the sharp curve. It was perfect, as always, but Wufei pulled the cleaning rag out of his jacket pocket anyway. It was the mesmerizing task of shining and sharpening the blade that he actually craved. He needed to still the unpleasant feelings that came from his feverish dream. A mundane task, that was all he needed and he could finally succumb to blissful sleep.
       After the first hundred strokes, his hand began to slow and the ponytail bobbed up as his chin fell against his chest. The lights in the room flickered, then went out, causing the back-up lights to automatically switch on with a low hum. Instinctively, Wufei broke out of his snooze to find the blood of his dream had seeped out into reality. The chair clattered to the floor from the startled young man's hasty rise to his feet. Sanity returned to calm the soldier as he recognized the blood red cast over the walls, table and chairs came from the emergency lights at the corners of the room.
       With a curse, Wufei kicked the fallen chair out of the way and bent to retrieve the cloth from under the table. One knife was still held tightly in his hand and the grip spasmed slightly as the Shenlong pilot froze on one knee. There was a sound of movement out in the hallway. Someone was walking toward the mess room. As all the infernal fires of hell, this night was going to be pure torture. He had woken someone and now sleep would never be his, especially if the footsteps belonged to that loose tongue named Maxwell..
       He should never have agreed to join the others on this mission. There was absolutely nothing wrong with working alone, and the success of previous missions held that as a fact. Why Quatre would insist they work together on this one, the proud pilot would never understand. If things didn't change soon, Wufei would never be rested enough to be worthy of piloting Nataku the next morning and failure was not an option the young man wished to take.
       With a sigh, Wufei slapped a hand up on the table to help himself up, but instead of rising, he ducked under the table, pulling the second knife down from above. The shinning boots that stood in the doorway were too large and tidy to belong to anyone he knew. The booted feet closed the gap between door and table and Wufei heard the shuffle of tins above him. A second pair of boots identical to the other appeared in the doorway.
       Soldiers.
       The blade slowly slipped out of its sheath.
       "Someone's been here recently," The first soldier's baritone rumbled like thunder above the poised gundam pilot. "This food's still pretty fresh. And I'd bet that this is gun oil."
       "Armed mice?" The second man made a horrible attempt at a joke, which his partner barely acknowledged with a grunt. "There was no response after we shut down the power. If anyone's still here, they haven't come scuttling out of their hole yet."
       "If they're still here, they will." The soldier was starting to make his way around the table. "Keep laying the charges and tell the others we may have company. You find anyone, you kill 'em. General wants this place cleaned out...we do it."
       The other soldier didn't bother with an answer. He took off down the way he had come, presumably to alert his fellow officers. Wufei didn't waste time, either. Just as the man turned the corner of the table, Wufei shot out, launching himself at the surprised soldier. The knife in his hand slashed once, then twice and the intruder was lying dead in a pool of blood gushing from his neck. Wufei stumbled back, wiping the dirtied blade upon the man's brown pants as he rose. A quick look to the door told him the other officer had not heard the scuffle and returned to impede the young man from his new mission. Tucking the unsheathed blades into the belt around his pants, Wufei picked up Trowa's forgotten shoulder holster to add to his little arsenal. He knew the HeavyArms pilot wasn't comfortable with someone else handling his gundam. Wufei guessed he was the same about his other weapons, but in the face of these unexpected events, his little digression would have to be allowed. Wufei didn't plan on using the gun unless he needed to. The sound of gunfire would only attract the others, and Wufei had no idea yet how many OZ soldiers had infiltrated the outpost.
        He slipped silently into the hall bathed in red shadows. The blood on his white pants and the sleeves of his jacket helped to camouflage as he followed the path the other man had surely taken. The bunkroom and the other pilots lay blissfully unaware far behind him, and Wufei planned on keeping it that way. He worked alone and he would take care of this problem alone. Infact, he actually looked forward to it as his body blended in with the shadows.
       Another hallway broke into this one. The stealthy soldier slipped down to a crouch and cautiously peered around the corner. As he had thought, there was the owner of the second pair of boots whispering to two other soldiers. One of them pointed down a hall to the right and Wufei figured more must be in that direction. His eyes swept over the advantages the hall offered before ducking back out of sight. Not much to work with. Being underground, the hall was nothing but a bare causeway made of concrete and stone. The ceiling was littered with piping for water and electricity. Nowhere to hide, so he waited for the man to come to him. He did so rather quickly, and Wufei had a knife in his chest before he cleared the corner. Slapping a hand over the man's open mouth, Wufei yanked the dying body out of sight of the others and finished him with another deep thrust. There didn't seem to be any sense of honor in the way he was taking these lives. Not allowing the men a chance to fight back rubbed the righteous pilot the wrong way; but he knew a full on attack would be suicidal and that would leave his friends vulnerable to fate.
       The knife slid back into his belt and he shrugged off his jacket to attach the holster over his arms. His mind played over the next tactics instead of dwelling on the term he had just used in reference to the other gundam pilots. Friends. Wufei did not have friends. He could not afford them. Not now, if ever.
       Another quick glance around the corner showed only one soldier at the entrance to the right hallway. Perfect. Retrieving the long coat from the floor, Wufei rechecked his weapons, took a deep breath, and sprung around the corner. The soldier immediately saw the wild boy sprinting toward him and fumbled for his holstered weapon. A cry of warning escaped the man as Wufei's jacket was flung over his head and he struggled with the blinding cover. Wufei dove across the hall as two shots rung out striking the flailing figure beneath the foreign jacket. Only two shots. That proved the Oz soldiers were just as cautious and ignorant about their enemy as Wufei was.
       The deadly pilot was at the side of the jutting hallway as the other soldier's gun barrel swam into view. His hand swung out, knocking the gun arm up into the air. A shot went off into the metal snaked ceiling as Wufei's free palm slammed upward into the man's nose, shoving the sharp bones deep into the brain cavity. The soldier fell like a sack of potatoes beside his cloaked comrade. Wufei blinked briefly and was shocked to see he still held the man's gun upright in the air. He must have taken it as the man slid wide-eyed down his body. The young man briefly worried that the other pilots had heard the gunfire. It would not do to be interrupted now. Wufei could almost picture a yawning blonde head shuffling sleepily right into the arms of the soldiers that remained. No, it would not do.
       "Hey!" The shout warned the musing young man that someone deadlier had heard the gun shots and had caught him foolishly standing over the bodies. Wufei twisted out of sight and froze in the face of the open maw of hallway. Too far to outrun the two coming hot his way. There was only one thing left to do; face his enemy head on.
       The soldier who had yelled rounded the corner first and was greeted with empty space. Suddenly, a pair of muscled legs dropped from the pipes above and slapped around his shoulders. With a tightening of his thighs and a harsh twist, Wufei broke the man's neck and the body went limp under him. Unfortunately, the man had a partner who was not pleased to find the grim killer that hung from the ceiling.
       Wufei swung out to avoid the round of shots the man fired toward him. A steamy hiss erupted from one of the pipes as hot water sprayed out onto the boy's knuckles. He gasped, releasing himself sooner than intended from the pipes and crashed awkwardly against the wall. The shooter was already on him, grabbing the young rebel by the shoulders and shoving him roughly into the wall. Wufei winced and glanced briefly at his left arm where blood streaked down from a ragged hole. He'd caught a bullet after all.
       The soldier stabbed the barrel of his weapon up into the soft flesh beneath Wufei's chin. "Just give me a reason to kill you, boy."
       A low laugh broke out of the captured boy before his face grew deadly serious. "You waste time with words. The advantage is mine."
       Wufei slammed his knife up to the hilt into the man's stomach and pulled up. The pistol still went off as the unfortunate soldier was gutted; and although Wufei moved quickly, blood welled from the side of his face where the bullet had grazed along his chin line. He let the blade go as it got stuck somewhere in the upper cavity of the dead man. Wufei slumped back against the wall breathing heavily. He waited for the ringing in his ears to stop and tried not to think how close the bullet had gotten. Perhaps it was time to wake the others and let them know they were sitting on a collection of explosives. With all the OZ soldiers disposed of, there was no way to tell if the charges they had set were timed or connected to a main control. Best to remove themselves from this pit and let OZ take the remains to Hell with their dead officers.
       His head still throbbed, but Wufei wasn't one to waste time on himself. He should have waited a few more seconds, though, for his unbalanced equilibrium joined with the slick floor to trip up the exhausted pilot. His foot slipped back at the first step he took and Wufei found himself sprawled across the jacket covered body. His scorched knuckles screeched in pain as he pushed them against the dead man in his effort to rise. A pulpy mass of grey and red squeezed out between the jacket's fold over the man's face. The marksman had been good for one of his two shots had taken the soldier in the head. The sight of the man's exposed brain matter did not disturb Wufei in the least. Infact, it reminded him of the pot of sauce his Aunt used to toil over, mashing chunks of red apple inside.
       Smashed apples.
       Quatre.
       The soldier of justice began to shake uncontrollably as forbidden images from his nightmare crashed rudely into his world.
       Quatre's body lying limp in his bed. His face the picture of mashed apples, having been shot point blank as he slept innocently unaware.
       Trowa staring blankly up at the dark ceiling. Long fingers clutching the bloody holes that ravaged his chest.
       A blood soaked braid and arm carelessly poking out from under an overturned mattress. Duo's blood slowly pooling toward a crumpled form nearby.
       It was Heero. The only one to wake and move before meeting his own end.
       His splattered arm pointing out at Wufei who stood in the open doorway. The splayed fingers casting judgment upon the one who failed them. The one who was too weak to work alone and too stubborn to accept aid. The massacre was the fault of a worthless fool who deserved the fate bestowed upon the only people he would ever call friends.
       "It will not end this way!" Wufei flung his head back and screamed, breaking out of the lingering images. "I will not allow such atrocities!"
       The agonized cries echoed down the empty passageway as the determined soul clawed its way across the lifeless bodies. The game was not over, he was sure of it, and Wufei feared the truth of a dream. He tore down the hallway, leaving bloody footprints in his wake. Returning the way he had come, the young man met only the bodies from his first encounter; but there were other ways to get to the bunkroom. His bare feet slapped against the concrete floor as his violently beating heart threatened to burst from the confines of his chest. The slapping weapon slung across his shoulder began to bruise his ribs, but Wufei would not draw it till his target was in view. Otherwise, he may start shooting at shadows, so enraged was he by the thought of what violent injustices were being played out far ahead of him.
       As in his nightmare, the blood-red hall stretched out unendingly before his racing steps. It was a race against time, against fear and against death; but, suddenly, there before him was a man. The soldier drew his weapon, dropping the braid he had been carrying and fired at the mad man charging toward him. One of the rounds ripped through the boy's side, but he continued his bold advance and plowed into the taller soldier. Ruthlessly, the young pilot fought and slashed at his enemy even after he realized the braid at their feet was only a coiled hemp rope and not the precious mane of the god of death. Snarling inhumanly, Wufei cast his soiled blade aside and continued his assault with his bare hands. His fingers slick with blood savagely tore at the soldier's shredded clothing till they found what he knew to be there: the detonator for the charges. Just as his hand grasped the prize, a familiar click perked his sensitive ears. Wufei's head whipped up to find the last soldier standing between him and the far door of the bunker room.
       An eraser drew across the slate of his troubled mind, leaving a blessedly clean emptiness. The end would come now.

       A noise startled the Wing Zero pilot from his deep slumber. Prussian blue eyes snapped open and swung toward the entrance to the room. Red light spilled out from under the slight gap beneath the door. The emergency lights were on which meant something was wrong. The back of his arm slid up the mattress and under the flat pillow where his fingertips caressed a cold metal gun. These cavern walls were too thick to allow noise to seep through, but the door wasn't sound proof. Whatever muffled sound woke the seasoned soldier had to have come from just outside the room; so that was where he trained the barrel of the gun. As expected, the door slowly swung open revealing a dark, shadowed figure backlit in red. The sound of heaving breaths filled the room as the figure on the bed and the shadow at the door regarded each other intently.
       "Wufei."
       The young soldier lowered his weapon and leapt from his cot as the other slumped against the doorframe.
       "Heero?"
       He ignored Quatre's sleepy question as he sprang past Wufei's battered form out into the hall; his eyes briefly meeting the dark, flashing ones of the Shenlong pilot. Heero skidded to an abrupt stop before the two corpses sprawled across his way. One man had a clean hole through the center of his forehead; though, Heero could bet the back of the head wasn't as neat. The second man was a gruesome sight. His death had not been pretty; but, then again, death never was.
       "There's more of the same further on."
       Heero turned back toward Wufei as the solitary dragon disappeared into the bunkroom. Putting off the investigation, Heero returned to the room more concerned with the man who had walked away from him. Though he told himself it was curiosity and the need to be informed, it was truly concern that brought him to Wufei's side.
       Trowa had beat him to it. The long, auburn bangs hid most of his face, but Heero could still see the confusion and alarm in the look he passed from Wufei to Heero. The fact that the Wing pilot had not gone rushing off to complete Wufei's mysterious adventure stopped the questions Trowa wanted to press. Instead, he offered some aid to the man who stared fixedly at the far wall.
       "You are wounded. Sit down, Wufei. I will get the med pack."
       The only response Trowa received from the stone-faced pilot was a flinch as a startling yelp erupted from Duo's bed.
       "What the heck! My hair! Damn it, who tied my hair to the bed?!"
       Quatre was already kneeling next to the cursing Deathscythe pilot trying to undo the twisted braid.
       Stripping the nearest cot of its sheet, Wufei neatly wiped the gun in his hands clean of the blood his palms had left on its gleaming surface. Then, with a slight bow that was more of a nod, the young Asian offered the weapon back to its original owner. Trowa's unemotional mask slipped briefly as he took the gun without question. Then Heero felt a hard, foreign object slip into his own palm. Wufei dropped the detonation device into the soldier's hand and swung the blanket over his bare shoulders as he walked back to the door.
       "There are explosives laced all over this place. I don't need to tell you what to do next."
       "Man, Quatre, hurry up." Duo overheard Wufei's remark through his own curses. "I don't wanna carry this bed with me."
       "I'm sorry, Duo. I'm getting most of it, but," The blonde head was bent diligently over its task, "it's knotted up pretty bad."
       "Let me help." Trowa's lean form bent down to tug at the auburn mass, causing the trapped young man to yell out.
       "AIEEE! Trowa! You're ripping my scalp off! Let Quatre do it and just make sure that suicidal Zero One doesn't go pushing buttons before I'm free!"
       A metallic click rang out as Heero snapped open a pocketknife. Duo looked over and screamed out in horror. "Heero! Hey, man, we're best buds, right? You're not going to do anything stupid, are you? Quatre, hurry up! Don't let him do it, Trowa! Oh, man, oh, man; whoever did this is going to meet his maker when I get out of this! Stay away from me, you crazy baka!"
       The fifth member of the group stood silently regarding the chaotic scene around the jerking cot. He couldn't believe he had risked his life for these annoying fools. Wufei turned and left the room grumbling to himself about his misfortunes; but a wide smile rested peacefully on his beaming face.