Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ GW-X ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

G-Wing X

Summary: Gangs own the inner city, grabbing power and territory from the weak. A new strong has been born: New powers are emerging on the street and when mutants band together, nothing can stop them. AU 3x4, 1x2, 5xS.

PG-13 for violence and rough situations

Chapter 2:

Three Months Earlier

“Duo, do you realizes how bad this is going to look on your school record? Do you—damn it Duo, are you high? Are you even listening to me?”

Duo rolled his eyes for the hundredth time. Ms Po was such a do-gooder it made Duo want to hurl, preferably on her pretty little `trying to be hip-looking' T-shirt. There was nothing worse than a guidance councilor that really thought the students could do something with themselves. Duo figured he had accomplished something by making it 17 years without jail time. He just got into fights from time to time. It wasn't like Po had anything to even be bitching about, in his opinion. He only fought this time because some ass wanted to stamp on his foot then get in his face, saying it was his fault. He wasn't about to just let some asshole intimidate him. No one was really hurt anyway. The school security guards had pulled them apart before either him or Rocky wannabe could. If he was honest with himself he knew that Rock was more than twice Duo's size and the security man probably saved his life, but he didn't need to be honest with himself.

And if he was honest with Po, he would've answered that “no, he wasn't high—not anymore”. His buzz wore off a few minutes into her lecture. And that was excruciatingly long ago. “I'm fucking listening, Po. Fighting equals bad. Yeah, heard it a billion. Can I go now?” He just wanted out so he could skip class and go home. The guidance appointment would be the perfect opportunity.

“I'll walk you to Mr. Kipling's class, then.” She said with such a knowing smile that Duo's nature won out and he couldn't help smiling back. She was good, he had to admit. Check and Mate, or whatever it was.

Rock was in Kipling's math class. Duo walked in and saw that all 220 pounds of him was still pissed. Po smiled sweetly as she watched Duo seat himself and then turned back out the door. Kipling continued babbling on.

Duo ignored the left side of the room, and he felt a poke in his shoulder. It was Alan, one of Duo's best friends and the guy he partied with. Alan was a good guy as far as Duo was concerned. He was a lot on the scrawny side, but Duo hadn't partied without him for almost three years. “Rock is pissed, dude. You shouldn't have started with him. He's gunna kill you, Duo.” Alan sounded genuinely worried, “Duck out after class and hide out in the bathrooms until he cools down.”

Duo turned and leveled a stare at Alan, “I'm not scared—Shit man, you really are worried, aren't you?”

“You didn't see Rock after the near fight. He's mad, says you made him loose his ring, or something. He's seriously gunna murder you.” Alan tried, but Duo had already tuned him out.

Class ended and Duo strolled out. He got a few paces into the hallway before the jeering started, “Bitch! Hey Maxwell, we're talking to you, bitch. You made me loose my ring, girl. I'm gunna make you pay for it.”

Duo turned around, the girl comment enough to get him started every damn time. And he turned just in time to give Rock's fist a better target. He felt his teeth shake as Rock's boxing-trained fist connected with his cheek. The force sent him sprawling backwards, hitting the lockers behind him with a ringing clang. Rock decided to end it before security got there. Rock took aim for his best punch. A heavy hit up and into Maxwell's gut.

Duo knew what was coming, but Rock had him pinned against the lockers with his bulk, and Duo couldn't do anything. Rock positioned is fist, and it went straight through.

Rock's fist hit the lockers, right in the studs of the metal where it refused to crumble with the punch. Instead of the `OOF' he expected to hear from Maxwell, he heard bones cracking—his bones. Rock pulled his fist back, watching with wide eyes as his hand came right out from Duo's middle as if Duo was nothing but a ghost. Rock felt the lightning pain shooting from his fist and looked to see a malformed dent where Duo should have been.

Duo ran, getting away as soon as he could and hid in the bathrooms like Alan had said he should. But for the life of him, Duo couldn't figure out what had happened.

He went home bruised, but not seriously hurt. His mom hadn't asked if he was okay-- She didn't care and he knew it.

Rock slid a 20 dollar bill inside the wrapper in his school bag as he went through the metal detectors and check at school, the day after the fight. The guard pocketed the cash and gave him the package, which he slid into his coat pocket. His hand itched bad inside its plaster cast, his hand and wrist all but useless inside the sling he was forced to hold it in. He had fractured part of his arm with the punch, as well as his wrist and fingers. It was all that bitch's fault. Rock had seen his hand pass right through him and slam into the reinforced edge of the locker. It was all that bitch's fault he wouldn't be able to box for a long, long time, and he was going to pay.

Duo slid into his seat with a boneless tilt. He had been up all night raving and decided it was best to haul his ass to school, instead of listen to his mother screeching and the horrible daytime drivel she loved to watch. One more stupid court show and Duo was ready to claw his eyes out.

Alan slid in behind him, just as tired as and even more wired than his party mate. Alan had the cash last night for a lot more hits than Duo could afford, or mooch, and Alan still hadn't come down from the last one. His eyes were skittering all over the room with a mouse-like jittering that had Duo on edge. Duo couldn't stand to think that he had been probably the same way only hours before.

The class dragged on, Alan trembling behind him making it just that much more unbearable, so when the PA dinged and the over the hill secretary asked for him to go down to the office, he was almost relieved. He knew it was about the fight, but he didn't care. He hadn't been in the wrong and he knew the cameras in every hallway could probably attest to that fact. He thought about blowing off the visit and just walking out the doors, but then he would have to find someplace to crash and math class next period was as good a place as any. At least in math he had some friends who would watch his back or kick him if the teacher was glaring.

He was announced, called in, and flopped down on the chair set out for students such as him, directly in front of the big oak power desk. Duo wasn't impressed. This wasn't the first time he'd been where he was now, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

This time though, instead of just a one-on-one with the man behind the desk, Ms Po was there too, standing off to the left of the principle. Duo waved in sarcasm, figuring the principle was going to call his mom for a conference and a whole lot of bull he didn't need.

“Mr. Maxwell,” Principal Santiago began, his fingers steepled in front of himself in an attempt to look authoritative, “I want the name of the person who started the fight yesterday. And I want to know how Richview high's most prestigious—”

“That's not fair!” Ms Po accused, but her complaint went unheard.

“—Most prestigious boxer broke his hand?” The principle finished, watching Duo like a cop. That was why Duo had always hated the man; he always assumed everyone was guilty until proven innocent, except for the students Santiago felt were `misunderstood, but good kids'. It helped that the kids Santiago thought were good were the kids of people Santiago hung with. Duo's mom was not one of those friends.

“I believe Duo deserves the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Santiago.” Ms Po spoke up, leveling the principle with a glare any man would be proud of. “I asked to attend this meeting to get a different view of the situation. I would like to hear Duo's account, without leading questions.”

There was a battle of wills going on between the two, and Duo suddenly felt like the rope in tug of war and Duo had the distinct image of what happened to that rope when neither side budged.

“This isn't about me. I ain't no issue, or charity case, for you two to bat back and forth. Rock missed me and punched the lockers. His hand broke. Boo-fucking-Hoo. Can I go now? You two can fight over a different scrap of meat.” Duo stood, not waiting for the answer, and slung his bag over his shoulder, taking a second to move his braid out of the way before slamming the door behind him.

Sally Po glared at Santiago. “He's a good kid. He tries to stay out of trouble. I know he's not the most respectful, or polite kid around, and I know he rubs you the wrong way, but that's a pathetic reason for being hard—”

“Damn it, Po. I don't want to make everything a fight with you! I wasn't accusing him of anything! I was trying to bait him to talk!” Principle Santiago said sincerely, softening as he looked at the martyr of his staff.

“I was only trying to stick up for Mr. Maxwell.” Sally said, leaning against the door frame so she looked less challenging. “He is just a troubled teen. He needs understanding, not challenges. I want to talk to him.”

“If I were you, Ms Po, I'd do just that.” Santiago said with a raised brow.

“I understand.” Sally said, sighing and looking at the Principle.

“Then why are you still here? He's that-a-way.” Santiago pointed towards the hall and went back to the paperwork on his desk as Sally took off into the drove of students just dismissed.

“Bitch! I'm talking to YOU!” Rock called, moving right in front of Duo. The hallway was full of students moving towards their next class, teachers were still inside the classrooms, and Rock had his four `bruthurs' backing him. Rock used his good hand to grab Duo's shirt, the black T-shirt stretching enough to give Duo air, but still hold him within arms reach. There was no getting away from him this time.

Duo snarled, than swung, his hand hitting Rocks jaw in a claw, Duo's nails digging into his adversary's cheek and leaving four gashes oozing blood.

With a sickening rip Duo's shirt tore, the two pieces hanging off his shoulders showing his too-scrawny front. “Check that out, too poor to eat or something? Couldn't get a john who liked dick?” One of Rock's bitches cackled, sending the hall into peels of laughter.

Duo lunged, hitting Rock with another fist, this time putting all his muscle into it. He felt Rock's face move from it, making the punch glance off to the side and Duo began to lose balance. Rock rocketed a punch to his gut before Duo even saw what was coming. Duo fell back, catching himself a few paces away and winded, starring at the much larger guy taking a few menacing steps towards him. Rock lifted his good hand, setting it up for another punch and Duo saw his only hope.

Moving towards Rock, momentarily stunning him, Duo came almost body to body with the wall of muscle then grabbed onto the casted hand and brought his knee up, slamming the cast as hard as he could to do the most damage.

Rock howled in pain, and with his other hand he knocked Duo to the side, sending him skidding into a wall of lockers. Almost making Duo fall into the adjoining hall that led to the office.

Cradling his injured hand to his chest, Rock glared at Duo with murder in his eyes. With a snarl, Rock reached into his jacket and wrapped his hand around his last resort. A brown lunch bag fell away from his hand as Rock pointed and Duo saw himself looking at the barrel of a gun.

Duo shot as far back as he could, slamming into the edge of the lockers and curling around himself as the gun exploded. Once, Twice, Three times.

Duo opened his eyes when he felt nothing hurting and saw the hallway looking with wide eyes his way.

“SOMEONE HELP!” A girl screamed form behind him. Duo turned, his head going through the lockers as if they were a hologram and he saw Ms Po lying on the floor directly behind him, blood pooling around her from three blossoming wounds.

`Where the fuck did Maxwell go!” Rock shouted. Duo bolted back upright, his head again phasing through the lockers until he was starring straight at Rock and the others. No one noticed him.

Alan, who had been watching, moved to put his hand on the lockers, and gasped as his hand went right through. “WHAT THE FUCK!”

Duo was freaked out, and made to stand. But he couldn't see his legs. He went to reach for them—but he couldn't see his arms. He wasn't there! Was this all some screwed up dream? No. No, he knew he existed. He could feel the sickening fear curling in his non-visible belly, and he could feel the tightness in this throat. He could even feel the trickle of sweat dripping down his brow. He could feel the floor with where his hands should have been, and he could see the floor, but he—he wasn't there! He was completely invisible.

Someone else touched the wall of lockers and went right through. They weren't invisible like Duo, they could be seen, but they were intangible. Like a hologram. Duo shot away from the wall just as the girl removed her hand. Going to do it again her hand stopped as it hit the lockers; they were solid again.

Within seconds police were swarming the halls, moving students for the paramedics to get in with a stretcher between two of them.

Duo jolted upright, and felt a pull in his guts.

A blood curdling scream erupted from right in front of Duo, and a girl pointed directly at his nose, almost touching him.

He was visible again.

“Move!” The paramedics ordered, cutting through the chaos to get Ms Po's body sprawled out on the stretcher. Blood dripped off her arms where it flowed from her bullet wounds to leave a trail down the halls and out the door.

Duo ran. He threw open the school doors and sprinted as fast as he could. He didn't look back—not for 3 months.

The bell gave a bright chime, alerting the lone resident of the Park Avenue town house that there was a visitor at the door. Quatre tidied his hair, and straightened his shirt, making sure he looked like he'd been reading the news paper or doing something adult like, not watching Saturday morning cartoons in his father's bedroom with a plethora of forbidden Pizza pockets (`it's trailer park food, Quatre!' His father would say) and half melted ice-cream bars.

He took the stairs two at a time, coming down to the foyer just as the bell was rung for a second time. Quatre steadied himself, and got ready for the upcoming confrontation. His father was on the other side of the door, he knew. He had made true on not answering his phone, but he did listen to the impatient messages his father left him. The last one had said, “Fine, you stubborn idiot. I suppose I'll have to do something about you, since you have no sense of your own!”

Reaching for the door knob, Quatre pulled, but felt disappointment, even before he had seen the man on the other side. Instead of his father there stood Rashid, one of his father's least favorite body guards. Rashid had been assigned to watch over Quatre ever since Quatre could remember. It was Rashid that always showed up when his father should have, offering excuse after excuse. Quatre shouldn't have been surprised that his father would send Rashid. His father disliked the man because Rashid had morals and values and a sense of importance that Omar Winner disliked, but the man was incredible at his job. So in retaliation, he put Rashid on `Quatre duty' when Rashid had first come to them, and Rashid had stuck.

Knowing Rashid would not be offended, Quatre let his disappointment and frustration show. Opening the door to let Rashid in and closing it behind him, Quatre blew his bangs out of his face, and resigned himself to overcoming this step. Rashid didn't bother with formality and took a seat on the now uncovered couch, patting the empty space next to him.

“Master Quatre, why did you leave school? At the beginning of the year you were eager to go.” Rashid began in his deep gravelly voice.

Quatre nodded glumly, and putted into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a tray full of the chocolate-y-est cookies he could find in the store combined with marshmallow things, and other sugary wonders that Quatre just seemed to inhale when he was upset. Placing it on the living room table in front of the couch, then taking a spot beside the man, he stuffed cookies in his mouth and let Rashid take a cookie as well. Quatre was trying to give him the `it's a long story' signals, and Rashid was getting comfortable.

“...Stuff...happened...” Quatre said, looking at anything but Rashid. But the large man was silent, waiting for Quatre to continue.

“I...People didn't like me anymore. No one there liked me!”

“What about that new friend you had made Master Quatre, you never stopped talking about him?”

“He changed schools. And then...Well, the kids started thinking I was doing stuff. I wasn't! I wasn't doing anything! They started calling me names, and then no one would be seen with me! It was horrible! I never really liked it there, everyone knew that, and I only bared it because father really wanted me there. But after that...I just!”

Rashid began to rub soothing circles on Quatre's back, feeling the atmosphere thick with sadness.

“What could they say about such a wonderful person and have it hurt you so?” Rashid asked, pulling his young charge into a semi-hug for support.

“They said I was a mutant! But I can't do anything, Rashid! I'm just as normal as everyone else! I don't understand.” Quatre finished, sobbing into Rashid's side. He could feel Rashid shedding tears as well, and was grateful for the sympathy. “Why can't father just come himself, Rashid? I can't talk to him over a phone, when he's doing a hundred other things and talking to me is the furthest thing from his mind.”

All Quatre got was a sympathetic squeeze, to remind him that at least Rashid was at his side, if no one else.