GW & OS don't belong to me. I am borrowing the characters that is all. The story is MINE though, and thieves will be SLAPPED!
2005-01 March 2006 - 05 December 2007
Untitled Gundam Wing and Outlaw Star crossover
by Zuzanny (lionette AT mailcity DOT com)
Duo struggled to keep upright as he ran, his limbs moving much slower than they damned well should be, and colours dancing before his eyes. He shivered as he paused for breath against a brick building. The shadows made the sweat on his skin feel icy. He cursed himself for not taking the guard's clothes - even if they were five times too big. He slid down the brick wall and sat, bare backside against rough asphalt, arms wrapped around his knees trying to conserve his warmth. He reseted his head back against the wall, looking up at the reddish-brown sky, and frowned. The few stars he could see through the smog were ones he didn't recognise. And although the buildings were pretty much a standard design, the posters and graffiti plastered all over them were in a language he also didn't recognise. He wondered where on Earth he was. The gobble-de-gook the guard had spouted at him had no similarity that he could tell to any of the languages he knew, but then again he was only fluent in five (which made it easier around his five other pilots). He thought of them now, especially Heero and Wufei. He could bet they would know more languages than he did. He wondered where they all were and hoped everyone was safe. Sister Helen would take care of them. She loved all children, no matter what.
Duo's thoughts scattered and swirled, images of friends/family/foes all mixed together. His eyes closed with the exhaustion that crept upon him, and he dozed lightly, seeing stars and floating amongst them.
The sound of feet stepping up to him, and plastic bottles being kicked away startled Duo awake. Five guys in 'leather', denim, or the current fashion equivalent for street gangs, stood there pawing their knives as well as their groins, sneering down at him with lust and general nastiness in their eyes. The leader one spoke, his tone not at all a comforting one. Duo had heard the tone often enough on L2 to know not to let them touch him if he wanted to walk away from here without a limp at the very least.
Duo took in a deep breath to gather his energy, then, using the wall as a support, stood to face his aggressors. His nakedness and defensive crouch made them laugh in the typical way perverted gangsters do. Duo expected them to be licking their knives, but perhaps they knew where they had been...
A verbal command from the leader and the smirking freaks rushed at him.
Ron and Harry McDougal were between races, having just finished beating the tar out of the other competitors during the semi finals. Harry found it slightly amusing how easy it was to discourage other racers during these trials. So many of them dropped out purely from watching him race. And he didn't even cheat... this time. The only sour note to his song of joy consisted of the fact that Gene was not competing. That was... disappointing. He had wanted to show that prick who was the best once and for all, and Gene didn't even bother entering. Harry was frowning now, his rush crashing down. Ron could see him out of the corner of his eye as he drove, Harry's green hair flickering about in the wind like a wild flame while Harry stared off out side the car.
"You gotta get over it." Ron said, almost gently. He didn't like to see his brother in these moods. Harry just grunted and continued to staring. "So he didn't show. You already know he's a waste of air, he obviously knows it too. I can't understand why you put so much energy into competing against him..."
Harry had perked up a bit while Ron spoke, his eyes still off ahead. Ron thought Harry had even been listening until he yelled for him to stop and pull over. Then Ron saw it, a fight at the edge of an ally-way, and a flash of naked flesh. Skin between clothed bodies. A naked person who, by the looks of things, was beating the tar out of an entire gang.
"Sure don't need our help." Ron muttered, but had slowed the car enough that Harry was able to launch himself out to run towards the fight, his maniacal grin in place. Ron almost called after him, but knew it was a waste of time, so instead he shifted gears and searched for a park close to the fight scene.
Harry was shocked to find there was another man with hair as long has his own. And a man it was, slightly bent over as he stood, panting, amongst a circle of fallen attackers. There was sweat glistening on pale skin and a few bruises splattered upon his hands and knees, but that looked to be more impact damage caused from dropping the bastards than actually being injured by them. This man looked up as Harry entered the ally way, once more crouching in a defensive stance. His eyes were widely dilated, almost covering the astonishing violet colour of his irises. His expression exhausted yet determined. Harry was fascinated.
"Easy there," Harry held out his hands, palms upward, hoping he looked non-threatening. The man blinked, panted some more, then spoke in some strange /alien language that Harry sure didn't understand. Harry tried switching to a few other languages, but the guy just shook his head with exasperation, then crouched and began tugging at the closest gang-member's clothes. Harry quickly stripped off his own jacket and offered it to the man who ducked his head and breathed something that could possibly have been taken for a thanks. Harry watched him put it on, arms into warmed leather, the hem hanging past his knees. The man shivered even with the jacket, and crossed his arms to try and conserve body heat. Harry cautiously crouched beside him, while the man observed him warily, assessing him for a threat, but without any fear. A fighter, Harry thought, his fascination growing. I wonder why he's here like this?
Harry pointed to his own chest. "Harry."
The man frowned for a moment, and Harry really hoped he wasn't a nut job escaped from the farm. But the man pointed to himself and softly said "Duo."
Harry clarified, "Duo." pointing at the man, who nodded slowly. Then Duo's eyes widened, a hand going to his throat, an expression of horror spreading over his face. He started babbling in a panicked way, rushing around to search the ground and his attackers for what ever he had lost.
Harry wanted to help, but he had no idea what Duo was looking for. Duo looked back at Harry over his shoulder and said a few shaky words, then bent to draw a cross shape in the muck on the ground with his finger.
Ron found the two of them crouched, looking at the image. "Huhn." He grunted.
"Well," Ron said later when driving both his brother and his strange passenger back home. "If he was the one who laid all those guy's out, I'd hate to meet the one who took his clothes."
Even though Duo was obviously exhausted, he kept his eyes open staring with wonder at all the things around him. Like he had never seen anything like it before. Ron didn't know of anyplace where anti-grav technology wasn't used in some form, and the fact that this kid was so impressed, so shocked that it was possible, bothered Ron no end. And he spoke gibberish. Ron didn't like it. He kept his eyes open in case they were being followed by governmental agencies or the like, but so far there was nothing.
The kid (Ron refused to think of him as a 'man'. He was almost half their height, and there was no way he was shaving yet.), was fascinated with Harry's arm too. A little confused and hesitant at first when he noticed the not-quite-flesh qualities to it. Ron noticed the kid kept glancing towards Harry inquisitively when he thought no one was watching him.
Harry chattered away merrily. Tour guide stuff mainly, pointing out where good restaurants were, vid theaters, bars for info or girls (or boys if that way inclined),locations of past battles between pirates and pirates... but obviously the entire spiel went right over the kid's head. He didn't seem to mind though, as he took in his surroundings.
Ron wondered if he was even human or if here were an android like that Melfina girl? She didn't need to learn how to speak, did she? Perhaps she were an older, pre-programmed model. This one obviously knew how to fight, so it had some programming... Maybe it's language circuits had been damaged in the fight? Or maybe during shipping from the lab something had happened. Maybe it was malfunctioning and so it had been sent to be scrapped and escaped? Survival instincts were pretty well built into these types machines...
Ron shrugged to himself, turning into their driveway. He could always crack it open and see if he could find where the damage was.
Gene searched through areal footage and road shots for any sign of the missing ship surviver, but so far had come up with very little. The ship surviver was very good at keeping to the shadows and avoiding surveylance equipment. If Gene didn't know he was from a much earlier time and place, he would have sworn the guy was some sort of government assassin or ghost. There were glimpses of him within a block of Fred's research lab, then nothing.
Gene sighed. It looked like he was in for some real leg work and rounds of the pubs and clubs. Just as well he has some of Fred's money to burn! He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms and legs and yawning. He looked across to room to Jim who was scrolling through anchient programming on his comp screen and taking notes. Text books and anchient dictionaries were spread across the desk tops for Jim to cross reference.
"Found anything interesting?" Gene asked.
"Nah," Jim responded without taking his eyes off the screen. "There's just not enough reference material here. It could be a whole different language written in this form, or it could be in code. It's hard to tell."
Gene shifted from his chair to come lean over Jim's shoulder and peer down between the books and screen. "Fred is so going to die if this turns out to be a joke." He muttered. "The letters in the books are the same."
"I know, Gene. But remember how many dialects there are in Harfong CDB alone. IF Fred's people couldn't work it out, I don't know what I can really do."
"You could always press random buttons and see what happens?"
Jim was horrified at that idea. "Do you have any idea the amount of precious data that has been deleted in the past because of random button pushing?! No! I won't do it! Go away and leave me to work in peace! GO!"
"Fine, fine," Gene raised his hands in surrender and turned to leave, hearing Jim tapping keys and muttering to himself, before going "Oops." Gene span to see what the trouble was in time to see the screen flicker and the scrolling letters vanish to be replaced with a fuzzy image of a young man with messy, blood matted, brown hair and blue eyes flinching shut with pain. Blood streamed down his face and he held one arm tight across his middle. The young man reached forward, adjusting the camera's focus upon him, which gave a close up of redness spreading beneath his arm through is flight suit. Sparks erupted in the background which made him start, but then he looked at the camera with determination, and began to speak in a strange, lost language, gasping every few words to keep his breath. He spoke for a few minutes, growing paler and more desperate as the seconds ticked by. Tears could be seen gathering at his eyes and he shook his head to clear them, but instead they ran down his dirt-smudged cheeks. The tears continued to fall, even as a small smile perked upon his blue tinged lips and he reached up with a bloody hand to his neck to bring forth a silver cross upon a chain to show the camera and continued to speak, a definite gurgle presenting it's self. The man kissed the cross, then reached to the camera with bloody fingers saying something firmly, before his head jerked up and surprise filled his face. His smile grew to wonder as he continued to look up and off to the side, his voice mirroring the the wonder in his expression as he gasped out short sentences, looking back and forth between the camera and what ever was holding his attention. Sparks continued to fly behind him. He reached upwards, the cross falling from his fingers, before he too fell to the floor and out of sight. Still the sparks continued to flow, and the camera to run, but there was no more movement.
Jim and Gene continued to watch the scene dumbfounded.
"Do you think he's dead?" Jim whispered.
"I'd say so. How'd you get it up.?"
Jim coughed. "I, um... pressed 0 and 2."
"How long do you reckon it goes for?"
Jim shrugged. "Depends on how much memory was in the camera. Could be hours, days, weeks... months even. I'm just going to let it play in case I do erase it by trying to replay it."
"I'll go tell Fred about it then."
Jim waved noncommittally as Gene left. "I wonder who you were?" He asked the long dead man in the recording.
To be continued...