Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Weapon ❯ One-Shot

Duo Maxwell hated humans. He was inclined to, seeing that in the realm of humans, the only gifts they were given was taken immediately. The only true gift from the suffering humans endured was Death. The only gift he could relish in. Suffering. Pain. War. Death; the gifts of life. But, the only he could truly understand was Death. It pulled people together. They could relate. They could hate. They understood Death, in the most primal sense.

 

He knew hatred more than any child had the right to know. He and Solo and the gang. They knew hatred; they were the offspring of the emotion. For how many parents would part with their children in Love? No, how would they? So, God forbid the first emotion he learned was Love. That wasn't for him. It was for the weak. Who could live with Love, when it was torn from you as easily as the brittle hair from the sick?

 

No, he thought, as he watched his Sister die. Love is for the weak. Tears? Not to be shed. Wipe them away, orphan. Wipe `em away, hike up them shorts, and run away.

 

People died in war. It was obvious. The most unsatisfying thing in the world was blowing up those goddam dolls. There was no Death on either side, it was a weak sham of War. A blemish on the pureness of violence. How could anyone defile something as simple as Death? No, he would give the gift of Death to those who chose the road of war. Yes, he would show them the pathway they chose.

 

But how he cared! He felt the sadness in the eyes, the blue blue eyes. The uncertainty and lost determination of emerald. The torture in the inky black. These other boys, they were just like him! How could they administer Death like him, so simply, and so professionally? There was only one explanation, they were gifts to life, just like him. Angels with big, big guns. Their wings of the purity of war and gusting with violent power.

 

No, we aren't gifts to anyone. We're just weapons. Simply weapons.

 

But how? No, they weren't weapons. They had their purpose-

 

- to kill

 

- to fight for their own ideals! They had their reasons! They had their emotions! They had their enemies! They had their loved ones to protect! They felt pained for the lives they took! They second guessed all their heartless decisions! Right? Right?!

 

Goddammit!! Right?!

 

We are not weapons! Did not ask to kill for you! Did not start this war!

 

But we will finish it!!

 

Fuck it, I am not a weapon.

Not for Death, not for you, or even me.

 

Dogs of war, we are. Let go of our leashes, set us out, lives will play in our hands. We are the dogs of war. Not weapons. Never. But fear the insanity in our eyes. Death becomes us, unleashed, and violent.