Title: Mission 001 (Gundam Wing)
Authors: Black-Haired Girl & brkstrtrcr (.net/u/1564571/brkstrtrcr)
Characters: 1x2, 3+4, 5
Preventers, Mission-based Plot, Conspiracy, Murder (with secondary character death), Dark, Self-Identity Struggle, Friendship/Camaraderie, Violence, Slash (though not explicit), Cannon, Multiple P.O.V
This fiction had been reformatted from a raw RP based data. This is the first time we have done something like this in a collaborative format, so the tone and perspective of the story shifts erratically due to the turn-based style we used to assemble it. We tried to go through and edit out repetitive dialogue and action sequences to make it a little smoother. We are having loads of fun with this plot and thought we would share it with you guys. – Enjoy. BHG!
Gundam Wing was produced by Sunrise Agency, and licensed by Bandai Entertainment. We do not own these characters or the referred to events that occurred in the original series. This work has been constructed for amusement, and we are making no profit from its creation or publishing on this site.
In the year AC 199, a new threat looms in a period of general prosperity and peace for the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. Armed with highly sensitive and classified military personnel files and a vendetta, a rogue colonist has begun a rash of carefully planned and elaborately executed murders, targeting former OZ, Alliance, and White Fang operatives.
Each victim is found donning an almost exact replica of their last military uniform. The name of their operated mobile suit model and number of confirmed war casualties have been crudely carved into their torsos. They have been executed in traditional military fashion.
When Zechs Merquise, former OZ officer and leader of the White Fang resistance group, is found shot and maimed at the Mars Terraforming Project, Preventers is alerted to the fact that this is no random killing. Merquise is found in his White Fang uniform, with the words "Odin Lowe, Ecclesiastes 9:5" slashed into his chest. To further complicate matters, the killer has released several images of his gruesome artwork to the media.
Now Preventers is mired with a potential political catastrophe. Preventer Wind has been revealed as the one and only Zechs Merquise, the man who ruthlessly fired on the Earth from the Space Fortress Barge Libra at the climax of the AC 195 Wars.
ESUN and the public are demanding answers that Preventers cannot give them. The Gundam pilots, former terrorists and war criminals, have been under the supervision of Preventers since the Eve Wars, with the understanding that should Une become incapable of maintaining a firm leash on all five of them then ESUN will step in and send them all to a war tribunal to stand trial for the hundreds of crimes they committed while piloting their legendary mobile suits.
ESUN issues Preventers a direct order: hunt down and stop who the media has deemed 'The Expatriate Killer' or bring in the Gundam pilots to placate the murderer and protect the identities and lives of the hundreds of former soldiers and officers now helping to preserve the peace.
Day One. July 4th, AC199
Duo smashed the enter key with a flourish and finished his first journal entry on his new company mandated blog. Quickly he closed out the window with a ticking of a few hot keys before taking up his most recent favorite pastime: pen twirling.
It had been a depressing day. Only last night had he gotten the call about Zechs, and all day the event was on the minds of everyone in the office. Zechs had been brutally murdered by a psychopath who decided it would be fun to play with his body, too. Duo had seen some fucked up things in his relatively short lifetime but this one was particularly creepy. It felt strange reading a report on the death of someone you knew. He had read about casualties in the line of work, but this investigation was much different. Zechs was alone in his apartment. He was off duty, it wasn't like he had gotten caught in the crossfire or harmed while on a mission. He was probably relaxing in his home unaware of what was about to happen to him.
The thing that unsettled Duo more was that whoever this was managed to do these things to Zechs without being discovered. No trace of DNA. It had been a top-notch job. How the hell did this person get in? And how the hell did he overpower Zechs, one of the Preventer's top agents?
Twirl twirl twirl, the pen became a blur in his hand as he spun it skillfully around his index finger. Previously this game had been played with a metric-sized wrench, but the weighted pen he had stolen from Heero's desk would suffice.
It had been hours since Une had briefed them on the reports from the teams out on the ground, and there had been no new information since then. After rereading the eerie Ecclesiastes 9:5 reference that had been found etched into Zech's flesh, he couldn't think of anything new or innovative. He was coming up with nothing. He wished he could be let out of this office. He wanted to go to the crime scene, as macabre as that was.
It wasn't that he didn't trust the investigators that were collecting the data; he just wanted to do it himself. He wasn't good at working behind the scenes. He wanted to be in the middle of the action. Sitting here like a lump staring at a screen may be good enough for some of the others, but not for him. He was getting stir crazy. He needed to do something to get his mind off of it for a while.
"Hey, Heero. You want anything from the mess hall?" He kicked the edge of his desk to spin his chair around to face the other former pilot who shared the small office space with him. He knew Heero had been deep in thought since this morning. The guy practically never left his workstation. "Huh? Like a coffee or something?" He asked, spinning the pen.
Maxwell had developed some rather annoying habits since joining Preventers: incessant babbling, smashing the keys on his computer terminal, audibly fidgeting, pen-twirling. Sometimes Heero wondered how he had managed to stay in a small, cramped office for this long without throttling him to death. He credited his iron self control, but it probably had more to do with the threat of actual time in an ESUN penitentiary.
Heero ground his teeth together in a perpetual gesture that would almost certainly cost him his rear molars one day. He had been staring at these crime scene photos for hours, researching biblical scripture for longer, and that irritating shrink had already e-mailed him twice to demand he turn in his program work. That had been an annoying ten-minute distraction, but Heero realized when he was beating his head against a proverbial wall with a case. He secured his workstation terminal, unfolded from his chair, and hissed quietly as the blood rushed past old war wounds and back into his legs. He felt old, and that was baffling at approximately nineteen years of age.
Responding to Maxwell's question was a bit pointless as Heero headed out of their shared office and down the hall in the general direction of the mess. Food was not required as he had eaten this morning before leaving the barracks, but it was a change of scenery that might help jar his brain as he struggled to make any headway in this case. Merquise had been murdered in a most bizarre fashion, and if the scene left behind by the killer was any indication...
"It has to be a message," Heero said quietly. He knew Maxwell could hear him over the hustle and bustle of agents in the hallways of Headquarters, but it was better to have this conversation where he was reasonably certain it would not be overheard. He ducked into the mess, ignoring the apprehensive and wary of looks the other agents as he approached the chow line. If his demeanor was not enough to put off even the most foolhardy and stalwart agents in Headquarters, the 'High Command Agent' patch on his BDUs certainly was. After the first two weeks of this manner of attention he had learned to ignore it as insignificant and irrelevant to his duty.
This killer was after something big. Several things had become immediately apparent when Heero had read the case file. This guy had access to highly classified military data. That was how he located his victims, staged their murders, and got the details right: the uniforms, the casualty counts, the mobile suit models. But Merquise was not some random soldier to settle a score against. No, Merquise was the soldier to gun down, the man who had almost destroyed the planet without so much as flinching. Heero remembered. He had been there in a very crucial way. And if someone was angry enough over the war to want to take out former Alliance soldiers, high-ranking OZ officers, and other military personnel, then what better target than the soldiers with the absolute highest body counts in the history of the colonies?
Odin Lowe, Ecclesiastes 9:5. "For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; they have no further reward, and even the memory of them is forgotten." This suspect wanted to erase every threat to peace. In doing so, all of the men, women, and children who had died during the war would be forgotten, and they would no longer threaten the peace they had fought so hard to enact. This killer was a complete psychopath.
Heero was staring rather blandly at a batch of rice pudding cups when he suddenly turned to Maxwell, cocked his head quizzically to the side, and murmured, "He's targeting Gundam pilots."
Duo had followed Heero out of the office and down the hall, pocketing the pen for spinning later. He knew the other pilot wanted to leave the office just as much as he did. It was inhumane, leaving them cooped in in the office filing reports with no hand in the action aside from the occasional phone call to the detective or the lackeys on the first floor. He fell into his usual pace behind Heero. Just a few steps behind, matching his even steps with long loping strides of his own.
He casually hooked his thumbs into his belt loops as followed suit down the hallway, through the open elevator foyer and to the floor's meager little mess hall. Unlike his counterpart he was beaming with approachability. The HCA status didn't help socializing much, but he was a charmer still now more than ever. Especially with the female officers and agents who often would drop everything they were doing to smile and give him a friendly wave, which he always returned with added exuberance.
Though maybe Heero bulldozing through the crowded lunchroom might have scared a few off on this particular day. He paused behind Heero to peer over the slightly shorter man's shoulder at the somewhat unsavory options in the refrigerator. Carefully he inched up beside him before opening the door to pluck out an enormous grapefruit.
Just as he retrieved his potential snack he heard Heero's lowered voice say, "He's targeting Gundam pilots."
He froze and glanced to his right where the Japanese agent was standing. The thought had passed Duo's mind once or twice when he had been mulling over the files. It would make a lot of sense that the killer would be after them. It wouldn't be the first time that they were targeted by some group or another seeking revenge.
Duo gulped, dropped the grapefruit back in the fruit basket and grabbed a Triple Rocket Popsicle. It was Independence Day after all; at least it would be on L2.
He held the Popsicle up to inspect it before replying in an equally reserved voice, "Who do you think is next? Does it have something to do with the name Odin Lowe?" It didn't have any significance to Duo. He had searched the Preventer databases for such a person with no such luck. All data files had come up with nothing.
He continued to inspect the Popsicle for a moment in thought before grabbing a can of Red Bull from the same fridge. A woman from the calls department smiled and nodded at him as she passed.
"Who do you think is next? Does it have something to do with the name Odin Lowe?"
Heero tensed unconsciously at the way Maxwell said the name without any real understanding of its importance. He was a little surprised, in all honesty; he had expected Maxwell to go hacking through the Preventers Level 5 database and read up on all the pilots at the first opportunity.
He reached out and picked up a rice pudding cup with no real intention of eating it, swiped his ID at the register to pay for their lunches, then took Maxwell by the elbow and steered him rather forcefully to an empty table in the corner of the mess. Sitting with his back firmly in the corner of the room, Heero surveyed the other officers warily before speaking as quietly as he knew how.
"You know that the real Heero Yuy was a famous political figure before the wars," he stated more than asked. "The man who assassinated him and sparked the wars in the first place was named Odin Lowe." Heero paused, unsure of just how much information was pertinent to tell the other pilot. It was not that he did not trust Maxwell; it was more that he guarded his personal information carefully, out of as much habit as necessity, and his training protested divulging too much to anyone.
However, this was Duo Maxwell. He had fought in two wars with him. This kid had forgiven him for innumerable wrongs-stealing parts from his Gundam, attempting to kill him in the Lunar Base, breaking his ribs during the Eve Wars...
"Odin Lowe was the man who started my training, before I met J. The only people who know of that connection are Une, me, and now you. It's in my Preventer file, but only certain people have access to it." Heero sighed uncharacteristically, his frustration beginning to edge through his control. He ran a hand through his constantly-disheveled hair and glared at the rice and milk in the little plastic cup in front of him and growled.
"It could be something. It could be nothing. I highly doubt that it's nothing."
Duo stared at him from his spot across the table. He had managed to get the wrapper off of the Popsicle and was just about to pop it in his mouth when Heero spilled the beans. He stared slack-jawed at him for a long moment as he explained the significance of Odin Lowe.
He dropped the red, white and blue sugary treat away from his face to hold parallel to the table, letting it drip carelessly against the stark white surface. Red splatters, reminiscent of the photographs they had both slaved over for hours earlier that afternoon.
"Is he still alive, this Odin guy?" Duo replied in a confidential voice, his darkened eyes darting back and forth over Heero's shoulder to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear.
Heero watched the syrupy mess Maxwell was making on the table with a critical eye. It looked like a Rorschach test. An ironic sort of smile curved the corner of his mouth. "No," he said. "He was shot in the heart and killed by Dekim Barton during an assassination attempt on General Septum from the Alliance in AC 188. I was eight."
Heero knew that it should hurt in some way to remember watching his mentor bleed to death in front of him, but it didn't. It never did. Dr. Wolfstadt was convinced that that was what made him such an optimal soldier-a strange inability to experience emotion. But that was wrong. He did feel things. He just did not acknowledge nor speak of them.
"We need to go to the scene. There has to be something else there, something that the other agents have overlooked." Heero looked up at Maxwell with a serious expression on his face. "You have to talk to Une. If she's made the connection between me and Odin Lowe then there is no way she'll willingly let me step one foot off of this planet."
Duo watched Heero's face closely and immediately picked up on the slight flicker of emotion on the other pilot's face. Eight years old... He wondered if Odin Lowe meant as much to Heero as Father Maxwell had to himself.
A peculiar feeling crept cross his chest. He stared down at the Popsicle and suddenly wasn't very hungry. The feeling, he soon labeled as dread, gave him a nauseous sensation in the pit of his stomach.
So this was the proof Heero had that the Gundam pilots were being targeted. And that meant Heero was next in line. Duo popped open his can of Red Bull and began swigging it down quickly. He gave a breathless sigh before propping his elbow up on the table, cradling his chin in his upturned hand.
"Une... " he practically spat out her name. She was the driving force behind everything they did, as well as the chains that bound them. "There is no way she is gonna let us out of here. If you have mentioned this Odin Lowe to her once in the past that viper will have remembered it." Duo turned his eyes upward to stare at the faded ceiling tiles with disinterest. "I agree with you though. I wanted to get on the ground the moment I heard about this. How are we supposed to be an elite task force and yet be restricted in our missions? I mean, I'll try and talk to her, but I can't see her letting you and I go out there unattended. No offense to you, but you have a tendency to blow shit up."
Duo tried to think of an option, something that Une would have to concede to. He avoided looking at Heero, most certain that he was receiving a glare for his last comment.
"You know what... she wouldn't let us go alone, but what if we were escorts to someone important? Like... " Duo hesitated and glanced down at Heero, inching backwards in his seat to lengthen the distance between them before his next statement. "Relena?"
Duo knew this would work. If he could convince Relena that a memorial service should be done on Mars then Une would have to allow them to go. Relena wouldn't have it any other way anyway. She loved Heero and would use every opportunity to snag him into protecting her. Une couldn't allow Heero out of the compound without Duo, otherwise the braided former pilot would make her life miserable.
Heero nodded slightly in agreement and continued to watch Maxwell. Loathe as he might be to admit it, when he found himself stumped and needed a creative or unorthodox way of solving a problem the braided pilot was second to none. Heero barely managed to contain a smirk at the comment about 'blowing shit up'. That was putting it lightly. Besides, Maxwell had blown his fair share of 'shit' up during their heydays. When Maxwell suddenly backed away from him Heero knew it could have been for one of two reasons: Heero was glaring with unusual ferocity or Maxwell was about to say something that he believed warranted being punched. Frowning, Heero waited for the other shoe to drop. "Relena?"
He really didn't want to punch Maxwell. He had almost convinced himself of that when his fist made contact with the wall directly to the left of the other agent's head. There was something about Relena Peacecraft that made him want to break every oath he'd sworn to join Preventers and engage in random homicide. The girl was absolutely insufferable and she insisted on pulling him away from far more pressing tasks to attend to her every whim. It was infuriating. And now Maxwell, who was supposed to be his 'best friend,' was suggesting they use the girl as their ticket to Mars.
Her brother had just been murdered. She would probably be an unholy mess of tears and sniffling, and she would want Heero as her primary pointman. Maxwell would be sent along because Une knew all to well that, left alone in the office without Heero, he would wreak havoc and pull childish pranks to alleviate his boredom.
Heero wondered when 'HCA' had translated to 'Glorified Babysitter.' He lowered his fist slowly and glared at Maxwell, but it lacked its usual intensity. This was a decent plan. But now he had to speak with Relena. "I hate you," he grumbled before standing and running a hand through his hair in what was fast becoming an impatient habit. "You will contact her," he ground out, before offering Maxwell a hand up from the table. "My likelihood of opening fire on civilians is directly proportionate to my unsupervised exposure to her."
Duo was used to being on the receiving end of punches. Not only from Heero. From anyone really. He was accustomed to watching fists fly, but that didn't make it any less freaky when one came flying at his face. He stared, wide-eyed and blinking, at Heero's face which had come in a much closer proximity to his own as the dull thud of the other agent's fist smacked the wall behind him.
"Heh... heh..." Duo's strangled, nervous laugh couldn't be helped. He knew that Heero wouldn't like the idea, but he hadn't expected the other pilot to lunge all the way across the table at him. The American's eyes drifted to the right where a group of Level One agents were whispering amongst themselves, staring in horror at them.
Duo knew this meant nothing. Heero was on edge, and sometimes he had a hard time dealing with stuff like this. He had been around the other pilot long enough to know this, so when Heero burst into unexpected violent motion he was hardly fazed. But those poor underlings... there went all chances of ever getting visitors in their office. At Heero's friendly 'I hate you' Duo felt himself smile. Heero had consented.
Duo had bypassed Heero's offer to help him up by leaping to his feet on his own, taking the liberty to grasp the other pilot's shoulder in a firm and friendly way. In doing this he hoped the onlookers would interpret Heero's sudden outburst as playfulness, and they would see that everything was okay. Unlike Heero, he cared about what other people thought. Not on a personal level, but on a professional one. He knew from watching Quatre that the more people liked you, the more willing they were to help you. It had been the very reason for his happy, joyful facade. Even if you felt like complete shit on the inside, as long as you put on a happy face, other people trusted in you and wanted you with them.
"I'll call her. I don't think getting her to accept the idea is going to be a problem." He let his hand casually drop from Heero's shoulder and grinned. "It'll be a piece of cake. Get Relena to call Une with the idea, and then BAM. We'll be on our way to the red planet in no time."
Heero's glare slid from the hand on his shoulder back to Maxwell's face, then followed his line of sight to the frightened group of rookie agents huddled at a table across the room. They looked away quickly and Heero frowned. Barton had warned him against intentionally intimidating other agents, and Chang would yell for a minimum of seventeen minutes if he heard that Heero had almost assaulted Maxwell, again, in public, again. He straightened up and followed Deathscythe's pilot out of the room. Heero grunted noncommittally. He did not expect this to go quite so smoothly as Maxwell was suggesting, but he knew that it would indeed work. Now it was just a matter of patching a direct line through to Relena's office, bypassing her secretaries and security teams, and getting Maxwell to talk her into it.
He rounded the corner in the narrow hallway to their office and glanced around disinterestedly as the handscan entry on the door chirped and flashed against his palm. Heero had always found this process confusing as he did not actually have fingerprints, but it seemed to work. Further down the hall, another agent was eying both him and Maxwell with hooded interest. Odd, that. He had never seen her before on this level of the building. Heero kept a mental directory of every agent he encountered on their floor. This woman was young, blonde, though he was certain that wasn't her natural hair color. She was thin, pretty in the textbook definition of the word, and her standard-issue jacket and slacks were wrinkled.
From twenty feet away he couldn't make out the name patch on her jacket; Captain Po was convinced that he had permanently damaged his genetically enhanced eyesight when Zero had exploded during his assault on the Presidential Building. There was just something about her that seemed... off. Heero did not get what Maxwell called 'gut impulses' very often, but he paid attention when he did.
The mechanical clicking of their office door drew his attention suddenly, and he watched numbly as Maxwell pushed past both him and the doorway before turning back to glance down the hall. The female agent was gone. Heero chewed his lower lip unconsciously as he followed Maxwell inside, shut the door, then crossed the room to his workstation. His fingers flew across the keys to his terminal, and in a matter of moments he had circumnavigated Relena's security and hacked directly into her computer terminal, and they were watching her speak quickly and in fluent French over the vidphone in her office.
She was dressed impeccably as always, though in a somber black suit, not her customary pastels. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, and Heero immediately glanced up and over his shoulder at Maxwell, mouthing 'Now or never' at the other man before sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He waited for Maxwell to speak and get her attention. His presence in the video would only help their plan, he was certain, but Heero had never gained an appreciation for being bait.
As Heero opened the terminal to Relena's vidphone Duo had taken his customary position beside the workstation and waited. Now his thoughts were being overrode by something he didn't want to dwell on but couldn't deny. Heero was the next target for this killer. The image of his comrade sitting on the floor in a pool of his own blood with his old flight suit on and a bullet in his head flickered to mind. Almost angrily Duo grit his teeth and shook his head.
Nobody could kill Heero. The guy was practically indestructible. He had survived over a hundred hectic descents through the atmosphere. He came through the ZERO system more or less okay, and he had survived that jump from the top of that hospital building with only a few broken bones to speak of.
The thought of Heero dead was freaking him out, and gave him a sickening realization of his own fragile mortality.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Relena looking so somber on the screen. Quickly he straightened his posture and took Heero's cue to start. He fell into his usual bubbling, positive persona. With a click he had opened the line to reveal their image. Duo leaned down carelessly over Heero's shoulder to peer into the camera. Next the audio. Once Relena had hung up her previous call he waited a long moment to let her gather herself before hailing her.
"Miss Peacecraft. Long time no see!" He chirped happily. He saw Relena startle for a moment before turning in her chair to look at them. She seemed relatively interested in talking but immediately brightened at the sight of Heero brooding at the edge of the screen.
"Oh, Duo... Heero. How good to see you two." The former Queen of the World looked like she was barely holding herself together. It was interesting to watch.
"Yeah! Good to see you too. I'm calling to let you know that we here at the Preventers are dedicating all of our resources on your brother's case. Heero, especially. He had been working nonstop on this." Maxwell was moving away from him again. Heero had half a mind to reach out and grab either his tie, which was dangling over his right shoulder, or that ridiculous braid, within arms reach of the tie. Then he would choke the other man with it. "The other reason Heero thought we should call you is because we are sort of stumped here. We need to gain access to the ... urm... well, crime scene."
When Relena's tears threatened to spill over Heero contained a long-suffered sigh. His annoyance with the woman was quickly overshadowed by discomfort as Maxwell leaned closer to his terminal, practically hanging over the back of Heero's chair and shoulder. Wing's pilot felt body-warmed metal against his cheek and glanced up to see one of Maxwell's sidearms near his face. He busied himself with memorizing the serial number on the gun in favor of watching Relena sniffle on the video feed. Maxwell was crooning to her like he did with skittish alley cats behind the barracks building. "We'll find him, Relena. But we need to get to Mars. I need your help. Une won't let us out of here unless you help us."
Heero wondered if the cats were symbols to Maxwell, representing in his twisted mind all of the unwanted, orphaned children he had known on L2. He wondered if the other pilot was kind to them and fed them because he felt obligated, or he somehow thought that by helping to prolong their miserable existences he was atoning for some past wrong that Heero really could not fathom. Maybe Maxwell just liked cats. He was distractedly tracing the harsh metallic lines of the gun's slide when the conversation onscreen snagged his attention once more. "...Tell Une that you really need Heero. Don't let her saddle you with anyone else."
That urge to throttle his partner was rising, again. He wasn't sure why Maxwell was able to inspire blinding homicidal rage in him so often. Dr. Wolfstadt said it had something to do with "diametrically opposing personality profiles and work ethics." After five years, Heero was simply convinced that he was destined to gut the idiot. When he glanced at the vidscreen again Relena's tears were gone and she was smiling coyly at him. He looked away quickly and stared at Maxwell's belt as if it held the cure for cancer in its worn leather material. "Yes. I hope to see you two very soon. Goodbye, Duo. ... Heero."
Heero waited exactly three seconds after Maxwell had reached forward and terminated the secure line before calmly reaching up and grabbing hold of the man's tie. As he'd suspected, it was not a clip-on. Foolish decision on Maxwell's part. He had the thin black fabric wrapped around his fist twice and was hauling Maxwell down over the back of the chair with it in less than two seconds. Once most of the other agent's weight was settled on Heero's shoulder he flipped him over the chair and onto the carpet with ease, then stared blankly down at him where he'd sprawled on the carpet.
"Leave me alone with her for longer than ten minutes and you'll have to arrest me for premeditated capital murder," he deadpanned. "This is not amusing." He calmly turned back to his terminal and began sorting email. As much as he wanted to solve this case, dealing with that girl was almost more daunting than standing trial for killing 1,378 hostiles and 214 civilians. Almost.
His terminal flashed and then Colonel Une was glaring out at him from the monitor. "HCAs Azrael and Dumah, you are to report to my office immediately." He flinched back imperceptibly at the emphasis she made on 'immediately.' Une was pissed. There were few things in the galaxy that intimidated Heero Yuy: children, mental patients, the Zero system, sexually aggressive women. There were even fewer things that honestly unnerved him. Lady Une in a foul temper was definitely one of those things. She disappeared from his screen almost as quickly as she had appeared, and Heero swiveled slowly around in his desk chair to look at Maxwell while rising. His BDUs suddenly seemed uncomfortably restrictive at the prospect of marching into Une's office.
"This was your idea," he said, not quite accusing. "How do you want to handle this?"
Duo had landed on his back, sprawled in a haphazard pile of limbs and braid, staring up bewildered at Heero. He really should learn to keep his guard up when he was around him. He vowed to be more careful in the future. Whether he kept to that vow... well, he would probably forget to.
"Look buddy," Duo remarked shortly as he pushed himself up to a stand, dusting off his backside. "How am I supposed to think if you keep nearly giving me concussions?" He straightened his tie, smoothed down the front of his button-up uniform shirt and jerked a thumb to the door.
"I got no ideas, but I'll think of something!" He replied brightly before turning on his heels and marching towards the door. "It's time to play innocent," he chuckled as he vanished out of the room.