Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Raging Rain ❯ Chapter 3
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: markanovanlink 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.01.2007 | Updated On: 05.01.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.4K | Visits: 113 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.01.2007 | Updated On: 05.01.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.4K | Visits: 113 | Status: Work In Progress
Raging Rain 3
By Markanovanlink
Rated R (Yaoi, POV, Violence and Suspense)
Pairings 3x4
Plot (Trowa has something to tell Quatre, but will it get them killed.)
Special thanks to those who have expressed interest in this fic. I really appreciate the time it took you to review this fic. This fic is dedicated to Sekari Sumeragi, Big Sister, zodiac, Kami-Crimson, Airenko, Spencer Brown, Obey the Fluff, RogueRobin, Wessangel24, LastxExile, Jaded Soul, Modified Tam, apocalyptic infatuation, and Gloria B. Thanks for the support and encouragement. Read, Relax and Review.
Lightening illuminates the dark sky as I press the barrel of my gun against Bob’s forehead. “The door, open it now!”
Without taking his eyes off the metal that was biting into his skin, he whispered the words “I cant…not…not…from inside.” I licked my chapped lips and smirked at him. I would like to remind myself I am not as harsh or as rough as Heero can be, but than again, who am I to stand in the way of instinct.
With my free left hand, I slammed Bob’s face against the passenger side window causing it to shatter. Within a second, that very same hand reached awkwardly towards the outside car handle while my gun stayed trained on Bob’s bloody head. When I lifted the car handle, I pushed my body hard against the door causing it to swing open wildly. After it swung open, I watched with sick satisfaction as his head fell from its previous resting place where the window use to be onto the wet and muddy ground. I pushed the rest of the pervert out of the car and slammed the door closed.
I sighed and hopped over into the driver’s seat. I am not sure if I should leave now or deal with him. What if he has done this to children? What has he done? Thoughts raced in my head as I listened to him crawl away from the vehicle. I narrow my eyes, turn the key in the ignition and pulled it out of the starter. I opened the driver side door and placed my feet on the cold wet ground.
After slamming the door shut, I walked around the car’s trunk and stopped to watch Bob crawl slowly away. The rain had stopped but the thunder and lightening continue to play tag in the heavens. I sniffed as I watched him crawl painfully through the rocks and broken glass shards laying on the ground. He must have hurt himself when he hit that window. Maybe I should see if I can help him.
I walk towards him with my gun in my right hand and place a bare foot on his back. “Going somewhere Bob? I thought you wanted to play?” I grabbed him by his flannel’s collar and drag him towards the rear of the car. With his head against the license plate, I put the barrel of my gun into his mouth. “Now look Bob, all I want is for you to do as I say. Can you do that?” His face was covered with blood and mud but his eyes were filled with fear. His fear radiated through my body as I waited on his answer.
After he nodded his head, I removed my gun and sniffed again. “Okay, first things first. Remove your shirt.” With a look of helplessness, he took off his flannel and handed it to me. “Good job, now I want you to lay face down on the ground next to the tire with your hands over the back of your head. Move over some more. Just a little bit to the left. That’s good. Now stay still.” I sniffed again as he slowly did what he was instructed to do. A strong smell hit my nose as I looked down at the shaky and crying form below me.
Did he just piss on himself? If Duo were here, he would be laughing up a storm right now. I smiled a little at the antics that this situation would cause if he were here. I put on the over size shirt and told the man not to move. It is so funny that a few minutes ago he was all tough and now he’s crying like a baby.
I look at the key as I step over his body in order to face the trunk. With the gun in my left hand now, I keep it pointed at his head while running a thumb over the key that was in my right. I put the key into the rusty key lock and turned it. When the lock popped, I lifted the trunk.
I have seen many horrors during this war, but none quite like this. Not like this. I turned from the trunk and forced the man up by his hair. He was about my height so I didn’t have to raise the gun in uncomfortable position. I pushed him down on his knees in front of the trunk.
My emotions were running wild and his emotions didn’t help the situation either. I felt out of control and dangerous. It was close to the time my father died. I have more control over myself now than I did then.
I tighten my grip on his hair as I pushed the gun against his temple. “How could you!”
“I’m sorry…I’m…sorry…don’t…kill me!” The man sobbed away as I focused on the trunk. I was so overwhelmed in my shock, that I didn’t noticed I had slammed the butt of the gun into his temple. I watched in horror as the man fell over. After five minutes of watching the motionless man, I dropped the gun and looked at the trunk again.
I wanted to throw up. I placed my hand over my heart and whispered Allah’s name. What should I do? My eyes searched every detail of the trunk from the tools to the can of gas, but the only thing out of place was the small body.
I didn’t want to get to close but I couldn’t help but to look. He looked like he could have been around nine or ten. His arms and legs were duck taped. His clothes were torn and bloody. His face was bruised and covered by clear plastic which was duck taped around his head and neck.
Yes, I needed to throw up. I pulled myself away from the sight and over to the passenger side of the car. I threw up what was more like spit instead of any stomach contents. I wiped my mouth on the flannel sleeve and sneezed. I lent against the car door and held myself. I wanted this to be a nightmare that I would wake up from. I wanted this to be over.
I couldn’t concentrate as the rain started to fall again. It fell with a fury that matched the inner turmoil I was feeling. How can someone get pleasure from killing children? I don’t understand this world. I don’t understand its wars and chaotic systems. Would peace change people like that or do they care if there is peace or chaos?
The sound of the rain, pounding against the ground and me, invaded my thoughts. The storm was heavy and loud. My heart banged in my chest as I thought about the millions of pedophiles out in the world and colonies taking advantage of children.
Then my thoughts turned back to the little boy in the trunk. Where was his mother and father? Did he have a home? Did he have a pet? What did the man…I don’t want to know. An uncontrollable urge rushes through my senses as I start to walk back towards the trunk.
My mind dismisses the body as I reach for a crowbar laying across the dead child’s feet. With the chilly and wet rusty metal in my hand, a cold and calculating voice vibrates through my soul. It is telling me to erase the threat and destroy any evidence of my involvement. The voice sounds so manufactured…so computer like.
This voice has haunted me since the day my father died. It was responsible…no it encouraged my behavior when I destroyed those colonies and almost killed Trowa. It has been a struggle not to be overcome by that voice, but some days I am not so lucky.
But today, I welcome the voice. I walk towards the man and kneel beside him and lay the crowbar on the ground. The rain pours buckets of oversized raindrops over my head as I move the unconscious man into a sitting position. I sit behind him and grab the crowbar. I place the crowbar across the man’s neck and hold it firm with both hands. I shout for the man to wake up as I shake him from side to side with the rusty metal.
When he moans, I stop my movements and wait. After a while, the man starts to struggle against me. He calls me every name in the book and says how he going kick my ass if I don’t let him go. I let him struggle for awhile longer before I pulled the metal bar tightly against his neck. “Shut up!” My voice is harsh and raspy. He continues to struggle until I said I will snap his neck if he didn’t calm down.
When he stilled his body, I loosen the bar on his neck. “I want to know who that boy is?” The voice inside my head corrects me mentally by saying “was.” The only good thing about the voice was when it was present in my mind, my soul didn’t react to the people around me. I didn’t feel the emotions of others but I always felt cold and empty.
The man started to struggle and told me to go fuck myself. That’s when it happened, that “snap” Duo is always talking about. He would tell me stories about soldiers who went to far with their interrogating and how he would just “snap.” He would black out and moments later come back to his senses, but all those involved during these “snaps” were almost always dead.
The snap for me is when that voice controls every limb of my body and makes me a spectator to it. It is like an outer body experience. All I can do is watch and listen to myself react to the man. I feel detached and betrayed by my own body. I flinch as I watch myself speak that voice…that cold mechanical voice. “Your response is unacceptable.”
I watch him gasp for air as the bar tightens around his neck. Stop…the man is unarmed…this is murder! I shouldn’t have to scream at myself but I do. I refuse to let someone or anything control me, especially my own mind.
A freezing sensation hits me as I realize I am holding the bar. I throw the bar and push the man away in order to get a better hold of myself. Why is this happening now? How could I have lose control of myself again?
Cold. I feel so cold right now. I wrap my arms around myself in order to fend off the cold and the tears that are threatening to fall. My emotions start kicking and screaming as a new wave of foreign ones enter my mind. I feel this sickness and nastiness wash over me. I need to throw up again.
I try to get up only to be knocked back down to the ground. Oh yeah, I forgot about Bob. He is standing over me and yelling. I’m not really sure what he is saying until he kneels in front of me and places my forgotten weapon under my chin. “Now whose in charge now you little bitch!”
He slaps me down onto the icy mud. Damn, it really is cold. I wish I was reading a good book right now. I would give anything to be reading in front of a fireplace while Wufei mediates beside me. Wufei has this calming ability while he mediates that makes me feel so warm and tranquil.
I feel the gun dig into my right temple as the man settles his weigh on me. He has to weigh more than my gundam. “That boy was a little street rat I picked up. He knew how to show me his gratitude.”
I chose to keep silence as the trucker continued his tirade. All I could think about was Trowa and Duo. They lived on the streets at one point in their lives. Did they ever encounter people like this man? Man is a disrespectful word to describe this monster. I have no words for him. Maybe a few. Sick, nasty, horrible, disgusting…I know there’s got to be more.
“Do you hear me you little slut?” I forgot he was still talking. I don’t answer him as he gets closer to my ear and licks it. “I should fuck you raw in the mud.” I need to throw up really bad. “But I aint gonna waste my dick on little bitch like you.”
He gets off of me and starts to kick me in my gut. When he stops, I can feel the true nature of my body’s pain, hunger and tiredness. He pulls me up by my hair and makes me stand. I feel nausea and dizzy, but I stand on my own.
He steps back and points the gun at my head. Come to think about it; Trowa gave me that gun a few months ago. I wonder where he is? Before I could stop myself, a small laugh escaped my throat.
“Oh, you think this is funny.” I don’t respond. I just look him in his eyes. “You fucking bitch,” was all he said as he pulled the trigger.
By Markanovanlink
Rated R (Yaoi, POV, Violence and Suspense)
Pairings 3x4
Plot (Trowa has something to tell Quatre, but will it get them killed.)
Special thanks to those who have expressed interest in this fic. I really appreciate the time it took you to review this fic. This fic is dedicated to Sekari Sumeragi, Big Sister, zodiac, Kami-Crimson, Airenko, Spencer Brown, Obey the Fluff, RogueRobin, Wessangel24, LastxExile, Jaded Soul, Modified Tam, apocalyptic infatuation, and Gloria B. Thanks for the support and encouragement. Read, Relax and Review.
Lightening illuminates the dark sky as I press the barrel of my gun against Bob’s forehead. “The door, open it now!”
Without taking his eyes off the metal that was biting into his skin, he whispered the words “I cant…not…not…from inside.” I licked my chapped lips and smirked at him. I would like to remind myself I am not as harsh or as rough as Heero can be, but than again, who am I to stand in the way of instinct.
With my free left hand, I slammed Bob’s face against the passenger side window causing it to shatter. Within a second, that very same hand reached awkwardly towards the outside car handle while my gun stayed trained on Bob’s bloody head. When I lifted the car handle, I pushed my body hard against the door causing it to swing open wildly. After it swung open, I watched with sick satisfaction as his head fell from its previous resting place where the window use to be onto the wet and muddy ground. I pushed the rest of the pervert out of the car and slammed the door closed.
I sighed and hopped over into the driver’s seat. I am not sure if I should leave now or deal with him. What if he has done this to children? What has he done? Thoughts raced in my head as I listened to him crawl away from the vehicle. I narrow my eyes, turn the key in the ignition and pulled it out of the starter. I opened the driver side door and placed my feet on the cold wet ground.
After slamming the door shut, I walked around the car’s trunk and stopped to watch Bob crawl slowly away. The rain had stopped but the thunder and lightening continue to play tag in the heavens. I sniffed as I watched him crawl painfully through the rocks and broken glass shards laying on the ground. He must have hurt himself when he hit that window. Maybe I should see if I can help him.
I walk towards him with my gun in my right hand and place a bare foot on his back. “Going somewhere Bob? I thought you wanted to play?” I grabbed him by his flannel’s collar and drag him towards the rear of the car. With his head against the license plate, I put the barrel of my gun into his mouth. “Now look Bob, all I want is for you to do as I say. Can you do that?” His face was covered with blood and mud but his eyes were filled with fear. His fear radiated through my body as I waited on his answer.
After he nodded his head, I removed my gun and sniffed again. “Okay, first things first. Remove your shirt.” With a look of helplessness, he took off his flannel and handed it to me. “Good job, now I want you to lay face down on the ground next to the tire with your hands over the back of your head. Move over some more. Just a little bit to the left. That’s good. Now stay still.” I sniffed again as he slowly did what he was instructed to do. A strong smell hit my nose as I looked down at the shaky and crying form below me.
Did he just piss on himself? If Duo were here, he would be laughing up a storm right now. I smiled a little at the antics that this situation would cause if he were here. I put on the over size shirt and told the man not to move. It is so funny that a few minutes ago he was all tough and now he’s crying like a baby.
I look at the key as I step over his body in order to face the trunk. With the gun in my left hand now, I keep it pointed at his head while running a thumb over the key that was in my right. I put the key into the rusty key lock and turned it. When the lock popped, I lifted the trunk.
I have seen many horrors during this war, but none quite like this. Not like this. I turned from the trunk and forced the man up by his hair. He was about my height so I didn’t have to raise the gun in uncomfortable position. I pushed him down on his knees in front of the trunk.
My emotions were running wild and his emotions didn’t help the situation either. I felt out of control and dangerous. It was close to the time my father died. I have more control over myself now than I did then.
I tighten my grip on his hair as I pushed the gun against his temple. “How could you!”
“I’m sorry…I’m…sorry…don’t…kill me!” The man sobbed away as I focused on the trunk. I was so overwhelmed in my shock, that I didn’t noticed I had slammed the butt of the gun into his temple. I watched in horror as the man fell over. After five minutes of watching the motionless man, I dropped the gun and looked at the trunk again.
I wanted to throw up. I placed my hand over my heart and whispered Allah’s name. What should I do? My eyes searched every detail of the trunk from the tools to the can of gas, but the only thing out of place was the small body.
I didn’t want to get to close but I couldn’t help but to look. He looked like he could have been around nine or ten. His arms and legs were duck taped. His clothes were torn and bloody. His face was bruised and covered by clear plastic which was duck taped around his head and neck.
Yes, I needed to throw up. I pulled myself away from the sight and over to the passenger side of the car. I threw up what was more like spit instead of any stomach contents. I wiped my mouth on the flannel sleeve and sneezed. I lent against the car door and held myself. I wanted this to be a nightmare that I would wake up from. I wanted this to be over.
I couldn’t concentrate as the rain started to fall again. It fell with a fury that matched the inner turmoil I was feeling. How can someone get pleasure from killing children? I don’t understand this world. I don’t understand its wars and chaotic systems. Would peace change people like that or do they care if there is peace or chaos?
The sound of the rain, pounding against the ground and me, invaded my thoughts. The storm was heavy and loud. My heart banged in my chest as I thought about the millions of pedophiles out in the world and colonies taking advantage of children.
Then my thoughts turned back to the little boy in the trunk. Where was his mother and father? Did he have a home? Did he have a pet? What did the man…I don’t want to know. An uncontrollable urge rushes through my senses as I start to walk back towards the trunk.
My mind dismisses the body as I reach for a crowbar laying across the dead child’s feet. With the chilly and wet rusty metal in my hand, a cold and calculating voice vibrates through my soul. It is telling me to erase the threat and destroy any evidence of my involvement. The voice sounds so manufactured…so computer like.
This voice has haunted me since the day my father died. It was responsible…no it encouraged my behavior when I destroyed those colonies and almost killed Trowa. It has been a struggle not to be overcome by that voice, but some days I am not so lucky.
But today, I welcome the voice. I walk towards the man and kneel beside him and lay the crowbar on the ground. The rain pours buckets of oversized raindrops over my head as I move the unconscious man into a sitting position. I sit behind him and grab the crowbar. I place the crowbar across the man’s neck and hold it firm with both hands. I shout for the man to wake up as I shake him from side to side with the rusty metal.
When he moans, I stop my movements and wait. After a while, the man starts to struggle against me. He calls me every name in the book and says how he going kick my ass if I don’t let him go. I let him struggle for awhile longer before I pulled the metal bar tightly against his neck. “Shut up!” My voice is harsh and raspy. He continues to struggle until I said I will snap his neck if he didn’t calm down.
When he stilled his body, I loosen the bar on his neck. “I want to know who that boy is?” The voice inside my head corrects me mentally by saying “was.” The only good thing about the voice was when it was present in my mind, my soul didn’t react to the people around me. I didn’t feel the emotions of others but I always felt cold and empty.
The man started to struggle and told me to go fuck myself. That’s when it happened, that “snap” Duo is always talking about. He would tell me stories about soldiers who went to far with their interrogating and how he would just “snap.” He would black out and moments later come back to his senses, but all those involved during these “snaps” were almost always dead.
The snap for me is when that voice controls every limb of my body and makes me a spectator to it. It is like an outer body experience. All I can do is watch and listen to myself react to the man. I feel detached and betrayed by my own body. I flinch as I watch myself speak that voice…that cold mechanical voice. “Your response is unacceptable.”
I watch him gasp for air as the bar tightens around his neck. Stop…the man is unarmed…this is murder! I shouldn’t have to scream at myself but I do. I refuse to let someone or anything control me, especially my own mind.
A freezing sensation hits me as I realize I am holding the bar. I throw the bar and push the man away in order to get a better hold of myself. Why is this happening now? How could I have lose control of myself again?
Cold. I feel so cold right now. I wrap my arms around myself in order to fend off the cold and the tears that are threatening to fall. My emotions start kicking and screaming as a new wave of foreign ones enter my mind. I feel this sickness and nastiness wash over me. I need to throw up again.
I try to get up only to be knocked back down to the ground. Oh yeah, I forgot about Bob. He is standing over me and yelling. I’m not really sure what he is saying until he kneels in front of me and places my forgotten weapon under my chin. “Now whose in charge now you little bitch!”
He slaps me down onto the icy mud. Damn, it really is cold. I wish I was reading a good book right now. I would give anything to be reading in front of a fireplace while Wufei mediates beside me. Wufei has this calming ability while he mediates that makes me feel so warm and tranquil.
I feel the gun dig into my right temple as the man settles his weigh on me. He has to weigh more than my gundam. “That boy was a little street rat I picked up. He knew how to show me his gratitude.”
I chose to keep silence as the trucker continued his tirade. All I could think about was Trowa and Duo. They lived on the streets at one point in their lives. Did they ever encounter people like this man? Man is a disrespectful word to describe this monster. I have no words for him. Maybe a few. Sick, nasty, horrible, disgusting…I know there’s got to be more.
“Do you hear me you little slut?” I forgot he was still talking. I don’t answer him as he gets closer to my ear and licks it. “I should fuck you raw in the mud.” I need to throw up really bad. “But I aint gonna waste my dick on little bitch like you.”
He gets off of me and starts to kick me in my gut. When he stops, I can feel the true nature of my body’s pain, hunger and tiredness. He pulls me up by my hair and makes me stand. I feel nausea and dizzy, but I stand on my own.
He steps back and points the gun at my head. Come to think about it; Trowa gave me that gun a few months ago. I wonder where he is? Before I could stop myself, a small laugh escaped my throat.
“Oh, you think this is funny.” I don’t respond. I just look him in his eyes. “You fucking bitch,” was all he said as he pulled the trigger.