I do not own the “Gundam
Wing” characters, nor did I make any money off of this project, so please no
suing. Various pairings, yaoi, AU.
The Completion Of Death
So Help the World
The
boy walked down the dusty road, silently noting the emptiness that surrounded
him. Abandoned houses lined the street, reminding him of hollow, eternal,
taunting skulls. He sighed as dust melodramatically swept up through the air
and circled around him, rustling the cloak that covered the length of his body
and the hood that shadowed his face.
He
calmly strutted through the road and up to the skeletal remains of an old
building. Wood, charred to the deepest black, flaked off in his hand and
floated lazily on the mild wind. He took a step away from the building and
looked up towards the merciless sun that shone with odd intensity overhead.
Wordlessly, he turned back to the road and began trekking down it once more.
“Leave
now, demon! Leave before I have to kill you!”
The
boy slowly turned around, studying the middle-aged villager that had yelled at
him more than fifty yards away. Balding and a little overweight, the man posed
no immediate threat, however the gleaming sword in his hand might prove a
slight problem.
“Hmm,
old man. It sounds as if you’re threatening me. You know, you really shouldn’t
be picking fights with people half your age; it is not good for you health.”
The
man scoffed, sneer riding his lips in false confidence; the slight shaking of
the sword in his hand betrayed his courage. “You speak big for such a pathetic
little boy!”
“First
you call me a demon, and now a harmless boy?” the cloaked figure remarked.
“Will you decide on whether or not I should be feared? I really do need just to
get this over with and get back with what I was doing.”
“I
will purge this good land of your evil blood, demon!” the man screamed, then
bolted towards his calmly standing adversary.
The boy sighed,
his hand flying up to a silver brooch that attached his cloak around his neck.
With a flick of his wrist, it came apart, the thick black wool cloak flying
through the air and discarded carelessly upon the dirt road. A long braid
streaked with honey, chestnut, mahogany, and auburn fell down his back and to
his thighs while unruly bangs licked hungrily at his cheeks. Amethyst eyes
stared coolly at the approaching man as the sun flashed off dark armor, the
color of an insane midnight. Ornate designs, ancient and haunting, were carved
deep along the frigid onyx metal, symbols no one had ever laid eyes upon
before. With a smirk of pure wickedness, the boy pulled forth a simple,
ordinary sword from the sheath he wore at his belt, a blade that was neither
polished, nor loved.
The
villager had covered the distance by the time his opponent’s weapon was out,
and he was already bringing his sword down on the boy’s head with a malevolent
grin. The grin, one so smug and confident, faded instantly as the boy’s blade
blurred past him and caught his weapon in a shrieking clash of steel striking
steel.
Grunting,
he pushed off the blade and attempted a slice directly across his enemy’s
midsection. The boy jumped backwards, evading the attack with ease, which sent
the older man veering off to the left. The boy chuckled to himself as his fist
cut through the air and connected with the man’s kidney. He groaned, twirled
around quickly, and glared at the boy.
“I
really do not have time for this,” the armor-clad young man said exasperated.
“I am a very busy man.”
“You
mean, a very busy monster!” the man cried.
“Man,
monster, whatever suits you, I suppose,” he called back nonchalantly. “Just
come and let me get this over with.”
The
man roared, something primal and animalistic, then rushed at the boy. His sword
went up, catching the sunlight and casting its rays all over the black clad
boy. It came down in a flash of steel, but was promptly blocked up his grinning
rival’s sword. The man leaned all his strength and weight into his attack, and
gawked as he saw his opponent bore his burden with utter ease and only one
hand.
It
is him! his mind screamed. They said it was only a legend,
something to tell children when they were being rambunctious, but now I know
it’s true!
Silver
cut threw the air, slicing it and the flesh of the man. Blood sprayed forth,
raining scarlet tears over the dirt, as the man sunk to his knees. His hands
curled around the dagger that protruded from his stomach, eyes surprised and
frightened, then slipping shut. Blood bubbled from his mouth, frothing and
dribbling down a silently working chin. With a cloud of dust, the man fell into
the dirt, convulsing, and then laid still.
Humming
softly to himself, the boy reached down and retrieved his dagger from the man’s
stomach, a sickening sound striking his ears as he ripped the weapon from the
flesh. He wiped it off on a clean area of the man’s shirt, and then returned it
to its place in a black leather sheath behind his back.
“You
would think people would learn to leave me alone,” he mused as he grabbed his
cloak and fastened it once more around his throat. Pulling up his hood, he
smiled as he began walking once more down the empty road. “I’m coming for you,
Deathscythe. Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait much longer. Then you and I
can have some real fun.”