Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ ZER0 ❯ Pride ( Prologue )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Vinyl-Koneko 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Thriller / Suspense / Psychological / Police / Drama / Angst / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.18.2002 | Updated On: 10.14.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 788 | Visits: 718 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Thriller / Suspense / Psychological / Police / Drama / Angst / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.18.2002 | Updated On: 10.14.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 788 | Visits: 718 | Status: Completed
Title: ZER0 - Part 1 - Pride
Author: Vinyl Koneko (Emily), roguegirl@att.net
Rating: R
Warnings: none in this part
Archive: Want it? Take it. Just give me credit, please.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I just like to play with them and make them play with each other.
Comments: *Emphasis*, 'thought', [flashback], /written/. Pride is the First Deadly Sin and is defined as an excessively high opinion of oneself. Kinda-sorta based on the movie SE7EN, but not really. All my knowledge on explosives came from reading "Fight Club" by Chuck Palahniuk.
*~**~*
/There doesn't seem to be any other way to start this. I'm afraid of running out of time. We might have so little of it as it is, so I better hurry.
It wasn't our wills that brought us here. This trivial fact we know now, but it seems that maybe it was a greater destiny. We are, afterall, the best there is, and it was because of this that we became so involved.
Our pride had been getting the better of us, and that seems to be what the killer wanted.
And now we've become targets.
I'm sorry to anyone who got involved. I won't avoid responsibility; the trail it weaves ultimately leads back to me. I knew the pattern, still know that I know, but I can't put my finger on it. Everything seemed so damn familiar and the others seem to be counting on me to end the horrors, but I just can't place it.
And now we're locked in Preventers HQ, just the five of us and the killer, playing a sort of cat-and-mouse game. But we are both the hunter and the hunted.
Our only advantage is the strength in numbers, but that also makes us an easier target. The killer isn't armed with any explosives, as far as we can tell, but you can make a bomb out of anything. Gasoline, nail polish remover, lye, orange juice... That'd be a nice way to die, wouldn't it? I can see it in the obituaries now. FORMER GUNDAM PILOTS KILLED BY ORANGE JUICE written in that big, obnoxious type newspaper headers always seems to be written in. Yeah, anyway, back on track...
He definitely has guns. And knives. And a dart shooter. And I think he hacked into HQ's system computers because it seems to be getting awfully warm in here for early April. Unless that's the global warming kicking in.
There hasn't been any proof of the killer's existence in a couple hours now. We're all getting restless. Heero and Quatre are out checking the perimeter for anything new. We get little notes written in blood every now and then, but it always seems to be the blood from one of the previous kills. We're hoping he runs out of his "trophy" blood so he resorts to his own and we can run a DNA scan and see if the guy's been booked before, but so far we haven't even been that lucky.
Wufei's in his meditative mode. It's aggravating, really. He looks like he's sleeping and alert at the same time, and if you listen real close, you can tell that his breathing has slowed and most likely his heartbeat as well. I don't know how he can sit still like that for hours; I always need to be moving.
Trowa's gotten to the point where he's throwing pencils at the ceiling and trying to get them to stick into the little tiny holes in the tiling. Toss. Bounce. Drop. Toss. Thud. Stick. Drop. Toss. Bounce. Catch. Toss. Drop. Toss. Thud. Stick. It's almost hypnotic except when the pencil glances of the tile frames and goes shooting off towards your eye; you have to duck or your eyeball becomes shish-ka-bobbed on a pencil out for blood.
Compared to a pencil, maybe the orange juice doesn't seem so bad.
The only reason we're stuck in here is because of our pride. If we hadn't gotten so damn cocky, I'm sure I'd be sitting in my office playing Solitaire until the forensics team gave me new leads to sort through. I can see it now. Leaning back in my chair, feet resting on the desk because Une isn't looking, sipping a second-rate mocha latte because it's from a Dunkin Donuts instead of the Starbucks on the other end of the block, and playing Solitaire on the computer with the card deck that has an image of the coastline because I'd rather be there than sitting in the office I have to share with Heero, Mr. Gets-His-Work-In-On-Time-If-Not-Earlier, because there's a lack of space in the building.
Maybe I should start at the beginning. It all started three months ago.../
*~**~*
End Part 1
Author: Vinyl Koneko (Emily), roguegirl@att.net
Rating: R
Warnings: none in this part
Archive: Want it? Take it. Just give me credit, please.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I just like to play with them and make them play with each other.
Comments: *Emphasis*, 'thought', [flashback], /written/. Pride is the First Deadly Sin and is defined as an excessively high opinion of oneself. Kinda-sorta based on the movie SE7EN, but not really. All my knowledge on explosives came from reading "Fight Club" by Chuck Palahniuk.
*~**~*
/There doesn't seem to be any other way to start this. I'm afraid of running out of time. We might have so little of it as it is, so I better hurry.
It wasn't our wills that brought us here. This trivial fact we know now, but it seems that maybe it was a greater destiny. We are, afterall, the best there is, and it was because of this that we became so involved.
Our pride had been getting the better of us, and that seems to be what the killer wanted.
And now we've become targets.
I'm sorry to anyone who got involved. I won't avoid responsibility; the trail it weaves ultimately leads back to me. I knew the pattern, still know that I know, but I can't put my finger on it. Everything seemed so damn familiar and the others seem to be counting on me to end the horrors, but I just can't place it.
And now we're locked in Preventers HQ, just the five of us and the killer, playing a sort of cat-and-mouse game. But we are both the hunter and the hunted.
Our only advantage is the strength in numbers, but that also makes us an easier target. The killer isn't armed with any explosives, as far as we can tell, but you can make a bomb out of anything. Gasoline, nail polish remover, lye, orange juice... That'd be a nice way to die, wouldn't it? I can see it in the obituaries now. FORMER GUNDAM PILOTS KILLED BY ORANGE JUICE written in that big, obnoxious type newspaper headers always seems to be written in. Yeah, anyway, back on track...
He definitely has guns. And knives. And a dart shooter. And I think he hacked into HQ's system computers because it seems to be getting awfully warm in here for early April. Unless that's the global warming kicking in.
There hasn't been any proof of the killer's existence in a couple hours now. We're all getting restless. Heero and Quatre are out checking the perimeter for anything new. We get little notes written in blood every now and then, but it always seems to be the blood from one of the previous kills. We're hoping he runs out of his "trophy" blood so he resorts to his own and we can run a DNA scan and see if the guy's been booked before, but so far we haven't even been that lucky.
Wufei's in his meditative mode. It's aggravating, really. He looks like he's sleeping and alert at the same time, and if you listen real close, you can tell that his breathing has slowed and most likely his heartbeat as well. I don't know how he can sit still like that for hours; I always need to be moving.
Trowa's gotten to the point where he's throwing pencils at the ceiling and trying to get them to stick into the little tiny holes in the tiling. Toss. Bounce. Drop. Toss. Thud. Stick. Drop. Toss. Bounce. Catch. Toss. Drop. Toss. Thud. Stick. It's almost hypnotic except when the pencil glances of the tile frames and goes shooting off towards your eye; you have to duck or your eyeball becomes shish-ka-bobbed on a pencil out for blood.
Compared to a pencil, maybe the orange juice doesn't seem so bad.
The only reason we're stuck in here is because of our pride. If we hadn't gotten so damn cocky, I'm sure I'd be sitting in my office playing Solitaire until the forensics team gave me new leads to sort through. I can see it now. Leaning back in my chair, feet resting on the desk because Une isn't looking, sipping a second-rate mocha latte because it's from a Dunkin Donuts instead of the Starbucks on the other end of the block, and playing Solitaire on the computer with the card deck that has an image of the coastline because I'd rather be there than sitting in the office I have to share with Heero, Mr. Gets-His-Work-In-On-Time-If-Not-Earlier, because there's a lack of space in the building.
Maybe I should start at the beginning. It all started three months ago.../
*~**~*
End Part 1