"Three hours, twenty-four minutes, thirty-seven seconds, and counting."

"Hmph." Was the simple retort.

"Jealous?" Asked the second voice innocently.

"Why would I be?" He spat with disgust.

"They’ve beaten the old record… which you had a part in holding."

"Hmph." And nothing more.

"I knew it wasn’t fair to pair them off." The second voice blurted out.

"And why is that?" Chimed in a new third voice.

"They’re far too equally matched, if you ask me." Came the casual reply. "They could be out there for many more hours before it’s over."

"Are you sure that stop watch is functioning properly?" The first voice spoke up again.

"Yes." You could hear a definite tone of amusement in his voice. "It’s working just fine."

"… Day and night…" Mused the third voice quietly.

"Nani?" Asked the second.

"You were correct. They are too equally skilled… like day and night. One will always rise while the other must fall." The third voice explained. "The cycle will always continue. It’s a never ending struggle."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"So… which one do you think will rise this time?"

Trowa shifted his gaze to the black sky littered with tiny white shimmering dots. One in particular, the North Star, caught his attention with it’s massive sparkling. As if by instinct, and nothing more, he replied.

"Night."

Wufei cocked his head slightly in contemplation. He ran this through his mind a few more times before silently nudging Quatre’s side, signaling for him to continue. Quatre shifted his shoulders impatiently.

"And which one is ‘night’?" Quatre inquired.

Trowa crossed his arms lightly over his middle and his chin dropped to his upper chest as if too heavy to hold any longer. He shut his eyes and allowed the question to seep thickly into his ears. After moments of eerie silence, he turned to face the other two pilots, his arms still crossed over his frame.

"I suppose we shall soon find out."

* * *

Trees.

Blood.

Blood.

A tiny tear escaped his eye, countless in the number he had shed that night. Countless as the body count.

Logs.

Red. Sticky.

Red.

His chest heaved with the pressure of nonstop flight. His sides ached in silent pleas of mercy. Each muscle burned and stressed biting sensations along his skin under the tension of running. Fleeing…

Fog.

Crimson.

Leaves.

Dark. Crimson.

He barely had time to take in his surroundings as each object passed the previous in a blur of discoloration. Coherent thoughts promptly took their leave into the night. However, through all the fuzzy images his mind gave him enough time to process the horrible scenes he had been subject to only hours ago. How cruel that his brain would allow only these pictures and no others to file into his subconscious. How cruel indeed…

I can’t believe the news today

Oh, I can’t close my eyes

And make it go away

A sticky stream of blood ran over his forehead and threatened to pool into his eyes. He dare not bother to wipe it away. It was a small price to pay considering he was alive… for the time being. It was a small penance to show… for the fountains of blood he had seen spraying from gorged stomachs, slit necks, and bullet riddled bodies. It was the only grief he was able to project right now… for the loss of innocents and allies.

The blood… the blossoming pools of crimson, as far as the eye could see. Dear… God….

Fuck that. Where was his ‘Dear God’ only 3 hours ago?

"Please… just… promise me."

‘I promise.’ He repeated in his head. ‘No matter what, I promise.’

After hours of his painful flight, his breathing was becoming tight and erratic. Sweat poured from every inch of his body, thoroughly soaking his clothing and mingling with the stiffness that drying blood had brought about to soft cotton. As his lower left leg began to tighten and spasm with the obvious signs of a soon to be leg cramp, he knew it wouldn’t be long before his body gave out. It was only a matter of time… minutes at the most. This shell, this vessel, needed to replenish bodily supplies. His limbs began to feel like each one was attached to a fifty pound weight. Yes, only a matter of mere minutes.

How long?

How long must we sing this song?

Slowly, the forest seemed to be getting darker and cloudy. Everything swathed in a dark velvet black.

How long? How long?

Bushes.

Flowers.

As the colors of the forest began to melt and slip away, so did all the noises that surrounded him. Somewhere inside he was aware that he could no longer hear his shoes beating against the moist ground. Somewhere even deeper he knew that the steady yet quick paced murmur of his breathing had been drowned out. All he could see was black, yet he kept running. All he could hear was his heartbeat, yet he kept striving. After all, he had promised.

Red.

Black.

With a heavy thud of exhaustion, his body hit the forest floor. The winds stilled and the night animals quieted their calls. And as he felt the total darkness coming to engulf his body and escort him to his grave, the only thing he could clearly see in his head was a dying girl… and a broken promise…

Death.

‘Cause tonight

We can be as one

Tonight…

* * *

"So what are you waiting for, Heero? Finish it."

Heero found he couldn’t help but uncover a scowl as Duo leaned his temple in closer to the gun barrel, gravitating to the cold iron substance. What was he waiting for? If he just pulled the trigger it would finally end. This fruitless, at least in his mind, little play would finally halt. Drop the curtain, exit stage right. It would be so easy to just apply a little amount of pressure to the trigger where his twitching finger rested. Easy. Then why, after all these years and all these deaths, did he find himself hesitating?

He growled from deep in his throat, annoyance and aggravation wearing his patience thin. The only thing was, these feelings were harbored towards himself, when usually they would be directed at the prey that lay squirming beneath his barrel.

"You were careless, Duo."

‘Not as careless as you’re being right now.’ Duo snickered inside his head.

"And you, Heero Yuy, are stalling. What’s the matter? Don’t have the guts?"

A moment of surprise and anger flashed across Heero’s taught features. Duo was caught. Duo was helpless. Duo was staring down the length of a gun and had the audacity to challenge his wits? Oh yes, shooting him would be much easier now.

Duo smirked inside his head. Sure, he had accused Heero of stalling. When in reality, he was the one committing the said offense. He had been counting the seconds patiently inside his mind, waiting for the imminent distraction he had strategically placed earlier to give him a shimmer of hope.

When Duo had heard the first snap of a twig and plastered himself against the trunk of that tree earlier, what his pursuer had obviously not seen was that the dark clad boy had clipped something onto the bark. How careless of Heero not to survey his surroundings once he had tackled Duo. After all, Heero knew the boy was highly trained in explosives.

‘Thank the Lord for hand-held explosives and small miracles.’ He chuckled inside his mind.

‘Three…’

Heero nudged Duo’s temple harder with the gun.

‘Two…’

"It ends now, Duo." Heero’s icy tone cut the air.

‘One…’ Duo smiled.

"My thoughts exactly." Duo murmured and his eyes narrowed into slits.

BOOOOOMMM!

Heero’s gaze instinctively searched out the source of the sudden explosion. Unknowingly, his grip on the handle of the gun had loosened a little and his posture collapsed too a little more relaxed position. His eyes stopped their scrutiny when coming into contact with a orange tree. No, the tree wasn’t orange itself, but magnificent strokes of red, yellow, and orange melded together into a strangely hypnotic dance along the length of the tree. The flames flickered and tried to pull their waving bodies up the sides of the bark, smoking and crackling all the way. Heero’s eyes narrowed with understanding as he watched the leaves off one branch putter cinders to the ground.

Duo.

As if Duo had been reading his mind, he took that exact moment in time to catch Heero off guard due to his manipulative distraction.

Duo’s fist clenched and he quickly slammed it into the side of Heero’s face, knocking the gun out of Heero’s hand. But Duo didn’t stop there, no, he had to prove to himself, and Heero, that he indeed had the upper hand here. Duo then wedged his foot against the staggering body above him, planting it squarely on Heero’s chest. With a little more force than was probably needed but only added to the intended dramatics, Duo pushed Heero backwards off of him, sending him crashing into the base of an old pecan tree.

Duo bolted to his feet and leaped for the gun that Heero had been threatening his life with only moments earlier. Once he had a hold on it, he then picked up his own gun that he had dropped to the forest floor upon his "capture". Hmph. Some capture.

Heero shook his head, it throbbing the whole time, more from the hit against the tree than the pelt across the face. When his surroundings finally quit spinning, he stared only feet away from him at a lean figure and two gleaming objects in his hands. Scratch that, two gleaming guns. His gun.

Both pointed squarely at Heero.

Heero wanted to curse, to swear, to beat the boy in front of him to a bloody pulp. Hell, he wanted to beat himself into a bloody pulp. How did this happen? Things like this weren’t supposed to happen. He was the perfect soldier, a man made killing machine. Moreover, he never, never lost. Especially not to, contain the customary snort, Duo Maxwell. Well, he hadn’t time for brooding now. He had to get away. What the hell, time for one quick curse.

Fuck.

So he didn’t say it loud, it still felt good to think it.

Heero steadily moved to his feet, never taking his gaze off the two guns pointed in his direction.

If he could just get a little farther. If he could just escape for mere moments. He had planned for the worst and hid one more gun a few meters away. Just in case. He never thought he’d need it. Hell, he never thought he’d lose the first one. His mind was brought back by Duo’s smooth voice.

"Doesn’t seem very fair, does it?"

Heero remained silent, posture not even giving the slightest indication he was listening, and staring at the reflection of light against the shimmering metals.

"Don’t ever say Duo Maxwell’s not a nice guy."

Heero moved his gaze to Duo’s face which had the slyest grin plastered across it. Hero raised one eyebrow in silent inquiry.

"You’ve got until the count of three, and then I start shootin’."

Heero would have facevaulted if he was anyone else. But at least Duo could read his doubts by looking into those cobalt blues.

"Iie, I’m not joking. I hardly find it fair nor challenging for me to shoot you down with no chance."

Duo smirked in his head, on the outside his expression remaining serious. The main reason he was letting Heero have a sliver of a chance to bolt was simply revenge. He had spent the last 3 hours running for his life and fleeing like prey. Now it was time for a little payback. And if it’s been said once, it’s been said a million times…

Paybacks are a bitch.

He wanted to let the icy bastard know what it feels like to have Death nipping at his heels. Nip? Screw that, Shinigami bites. Let him sweat, let him feel the pressure.

Heero wanted to smile, yes, smile. But only wanted to, Heaven forbid he mark those flawless features with such a gesture. Duo, heh. what a total baka. This was exactly what he had been hoping for. Now he could get to that other gun and claim victory. Ha, How could he have ever doubted that he would win? It was almost too easy… almost.

"One…" Duo began the count.

"Two."

In a flash, Heero was off on his feet, bolting for that gun he knew he had stowed. He had to move fast to cover the distance.

"Three."

Duo smiled and took flight. This would be it. He’d let Heero get a pretty good head start, just to let him get cocky. And then… bang!

Duo began to close the distance. He could shoot from where he was, he had a very clear shot, but he wanted to at least hear if he couldn’t see Heero’s surprise at losing.

‘Almost there…’ Heero thought.

As Heero sped through the forest, something stung his nose. It was thick and musty, soaking through the forest air. He wrinkled it in dissatisfaction. He knew that smell. How could he ever forget it? He couldn’t.

Blood.

The poignant aroma was growing closer as he sped past tree after tree. It got so each inhalation was filled with nothing but the drifting smell.

Then, as his feet collided with something on the forest floor and started to send him hurtling to the ground, he was aware of only two things:

First, he had found the source of the smell of blood.

Second, he heard and felt Duo’s gun fire at the back of his head.

* * *

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"Mark time."

"Three hours, forty-three minutes, and fifty-two seconds."

"Recorded."

Quatre leaned over to a machine with a flashing red light and clicked off a switch while Trowa silently recorded down the exact time the alert had went off. The red light stopped flashing immediately and was replaced by a continuous red dot.

The alarm and the dot could only mean one thing- one of the guns had been fired. The two guns that Heero and Duo had been using were connected to an intricate radar and alert system that was designed to show the exact location of the gun and whose it was that had been shot off. This system, of course, was not flawless. If for some reason there happened to be a misfire, the men would have to be brought back in and the previous records erased so that they could start completely over. A most irritating fault. They knew, it had happened quite a few times in the beginning.

So each pilot had learned quickly to only fire when the shot was inevitable to hit the target. As Quatre pinpointed the exact longitude and latitude of the shot, there was only one question that remained in the air between the three pilots- whose gun was it that had fired?

Wufei scanned over the data flashing across the screen in little red words and numbers. When the processing was complete, he quickly read through the jumbled mess for the information they were all dying to hear. And when he found it… he lost all breath he had been tightly holding in.

"02…" Wufei muttered almost inaudible.

"Nani?" Quatre and Trowa walked over to his side.

"I said… pilot 02…"

"That’s… that’s impossible, Wufei. That would mean that…" Quatre couldn’t even find the words to finish his sentence.

Wufei inhaled deeply and finished for him.

"Duo’s gun was the one that fired… Duo… shot Heero."

* * *

"Game…" Duo blew on the end of the gun barrel just for flare. "… over."

"Can you believe it, man? I actually beat you! Me, Duo Maxwell, beat Heero Yuy! No one’s ever beat you!" Duo grinned and stuck both the guns in the hem of his pants.

"Duo---"

"Uh uhh, Heero, don’t try to interrupt me now! I’m on a roll! I mean, how often will I get to brag about beating you! And a shot to the back of the head no less! It’s going to take some scrubbing to get that tracking paint out of your hair!" Duo smiled happily at the fact that it wasn’t his long hair sticky and matted in that nasty goo.

"Duo---" A little louder this time.

"I bet the other guys are back at camp with their chins hanging all the way to their chests, ya know? Man, I wish I could see their faces right now."

"DUO!"

Duo scratched his head and started walking over to where Heero’s body had taken the spill.

"Oi, what is it Heero?"

"I found a body."

Duo was speechless. He what? Surely he hadn’t heard that correctly.

"Say what?"

"I said, I found a body."

"What?!"

"A body, Duo, a fucking dead bo---"

"Ok, ok, geez, I get the point."

Duo scratched his nose, sure enough, he could make out the distinct smell of blood. Why hadn’t he noticed it earlier? Probably because he was too busy rejoicing in probably the first and only time he or anyone else had beaten Heero. But yes, the definite smell of blood filled his every sense.

"Male or female?"

"Male."

Duo sighed. For some reason, that seemed to ease his mind a little more. Duo had seen bloody death after bloody death- Hell, even caused most of them- but some reason he never liked to see Death’s handiwork up close. And it was even more unnerving for it to be a woman. These days, to find a dead woman out in the woods usually went along with one word- rape. And that one word brought up more horrible and lifelike images into his head than any dead body could bring. All painful realities to him. The fact that it was male really didn’t ease his mind about it being a death, but at least it wouldn’t… disturb… him as much.

Duo hesitantly crept up beside a crouching Heero to take a look at the body. It was barely visible in the darkness of the canopy, so he had to strain his eyes to really get a good look at it. There was no way in Hell he was going to get as close to it as Heero had just been, or still was for that matter.

"Christ, Heero, he’s not much older than us."

There wasn’t much Duo could see in the night, but it was definitely obvious that the boy was around their age group. His clothes were torn and drowned in blood and other substances. The faint smell of gunpowder and a twinge of sweat could be detected through the overpowering drench of blood. Duo walked up closer to Heero and peered down further…

And the body coughed.

"What the fuck?!" Duo jumped back a few feet from the utter shock.

"Um, Heero, corpses don’t cough."

"Hn."

"Didn’t you check his vital signs?"

"Iie, it was obvious he was dead."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Well, obviously he isn’t."

Duo crept back up to Heero and the now presumed to be alive boy. Tentatively, he leaned down and placed two fingers on the side of the boy’s sticky neck, grimacing as the blood washed over his hands.

A pulse. A faint one, but a pulse nonetheless.

"Heero, he’s not dead yet…"

Duo inhaled deeply, shuddering from something more than the cold. Duo’s voice fell to a mere whisper.

"… but he will be soon."

* * *

"Ari… arigatou, Ransh [1] …"

And it’s true we are immune

When fact is fiction and TV reality

And today the millions cry

We eat and drink while tomorrow they die