cozzybob (cozzybob) wrote in cozzybabbles, @ 2008-02-25 22:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | 1x2, duo, heero |
[GW] In A Nutshell
In A Nutshell
by cozzybob
Pair: 1x2x1
Warning: post-war, dark, mutilation, gore, lots of blood, Shinigami!Duo, psychosis-ness. refs to prostitution, pedophilia, child abuse.
Note: This has been on my mind for quite a while so much thanks to gw500 and their "game" challenge for the inspiration. Originally, this was inspired from the infamous Duo-ese "boys don't cry" quote in Gundam Wing... I still don't know if it was misquoted or not, but I've heard a version where he says, "But momma said boys don't cry." It's also been said that he references his mother again in another part (I don't know if it's true, I haven't seen the series in a very long time), but either way, it got me wondering if Duo actually does know who his mother was. It's a thought, right? Forgive me if this is too far-fetched.
Summary: During an interrogation of an ex-ozzie with Heero, Duo unexpectedly reveals the truth of his origins, and the fact that he knows perfectly well where he came from.
"Let's play a game," I say to the Little Ex-Ozzie Man, and he snarls his Little Insults at me, calling me a 'sick sonuvawhore.' My left brow twitches and he pales, twisting in his bonds. "I apologize," I tell him, "...but my mother wasn't just any whore. She charged two hundred for blow jobs."
Heero is standing behind my victim, and his head snaps up at me.
I roll my eyes but I'm not grinning. "Okay, so maybe it wasn't two hundred, exactly. But I know she wasn't cheap."
"Du--"
I glare at him. Heero's eyes narrow very slightly, furious at his own slip, and his knuckles crack as he squeezes his fists and poses threats to me behind our Ex-Ozzie, not even bothering for the gun resting at his hip. Message received and flushed down the nearest paper shredder.
He doesn't like me giving away my personal life? Fuck you, Heero.
"My mother told me that boys don't cry. Are you gonna cry, little girl?"
The Ex-Ozzie spits at my feet and Heero is staring again. He can't seem to decide if he should interrupt my madness before I get any worse, or let me go, just to see what color shit will spill from my mouth next.
Two smooth steps and I straddle the Ex-Ozzie in his chair. I rip his head back by his tousled dirty blond hair, and caress the tip of my knife to his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows hard and the knife pricks him, drawing a tiny drop of blood. He cries out, shudders deliciously. I bend down slowly and lick the blood away, whispering into his neck.
"Let's play a game," I say again, reverting back to the previous topic of discussion. "Every time you answer my questions correctly, I'll tell you something more about my mother, since you're so fixated on her sexual attributes." I look at Heero as I say it--that was for him, but I'll let my victim believe his worth for a while. "Every time you refuse, I will remove body parts. I'll start out small. You've got ten fingers, ten toes..." The flash of pristine teeth. "Amazing, the sorts of things the body can live without." I chuckle into my Little Ex-Ozzie's neck, and Heero twitches, I can feel it. I flick my eyes up at him again, left brow curled in wry amusement. My wonderful, jealous Heero. The sex never gets old.
My amusement turns into a sick grin, and I slide down the Ex-Ozzie's legs, mouthing at where his belly button would be. The poor man struggles, but he isn't going anywhere.
I palm his crotch gently, and I feel him shake. Beneath dirty blond bangs, there is a glimmer of lust. It disgusts me, because I'd known all along--he is close to thirty seven, but sexually experienced seventeen year old boys never stopped a pedophile. I suspect he believes I'm too old for his tastes. I plan on ripping his dick off the first chance I get just to prove a point.
I never liked pedophiles.
But I'm gentle, and he hardens. Heero glares laser beams out of his eye sockets.
And I ask, almost mock-husky, "We've traced several large shipments of gundanium running through Lagrange Four. Where did it come from and where is it going?"
He doesn't answer. Maybe he's thinking.
I don't want him to think. I squeeze him very hard and he cries out. I lick the dents in his face caused by his screaming and he tries to swerve from my touch, but the fist in his hair holds him in place, and the knife has trailed down to his dick. I'm gonna cut it off if he doesn't answer. I know he knows it.
He swallows. He shakes his head.
I tut at him, waggling a single finger. "Now now," whispering into his unshaven jaw, "...we aren't here to think, we're here to confess. When you sit in that little black box before the Lord, you don't tell God that you'll think about it, do you? God already knows. I'm God, and I know too. We just wanna hear it from your fuckable little lips so that we can save you." I lick at them, and his tongue dashes out to catch me. I pull away; Heero has moved beyond lasers and has twin buster rifles aimed at my skull.
"Save me?" The Little Ex-Ozzie rolls his eyes, finding it funny. "I'm an atheist. We're not meant to be saved."
I point at Heero. "He is too, but you're both gonna die some day. Your soul, godless or not, is mine." I grin sweetly.
He swallows hard. He doesn't know how to take it. They never do.
"W-Why's that?" I love it when they stutter.
But I don't bother to explain, it's a waste of my time. "Answer the question," I tell him.
He shakes his head.
His hands are tied firmly to the arms of the chair, and I take his struggling left pinky, lining up my knife with the joint in the bones. He squirms, shakes his head harder, screams when the edge of my knife cuts the tiny web of skin between his fingers.
"I-I-I d-don't know where it's coming from!" When I move to continue, he shouts, "But Tsub--th-there's a rumor that... I-I mean, a rumor about dolls--" I still and watch expectantly. He growls. "I don't know! Something about the dolls, mobile dol--"
Heero shifts subtly behind me, and I know he doesn't like the idea at all. "You mean like gundam dolls? That's incredibly expensive." And unlikely, given how long it takes to build a gundam because of how hard gundanium is and the process involved in shaping the intricate parts--which can only be done in space, in special facilities that were all seized and destroyed shortly after the war. The idea of the remnants of OZ, Romefeller, and possibly even White Fang building weapons--weapons like that, for use against us--puts a nasty churn in my stomach. Not to mention you'd need the cooperation of the only scientists in the world who'd know how to build it. Who are dead. Well, except Howard maybe.
Interesting.
But he doesn't confirm the thought. "Y-You said, the game. You have to tell me about your mother." Even through the stuttering, he smirks. I pull the knife away just enough, and shrug. What to tell?
Heero would nod in agreement, but he's above associating with scumbags.
My mother wasn't.
"I was three when she was killed. I don't remember her name... hell, I don't even remember my own birth name." A line in Heero's forehead vanishes, and I don't know what to make of it. He wouldn't dare feel pity. Perhaps understanding--it would only make sense that I couldn't remember the most important thing in my life. "But I do remember one thing. She was a terrible liar."
"Liar?" Heero slips again, and he glares at himself in frustration.
The victim looks intrigued, but he wouldn't admit it if I cut off his manhood. He smile is a sneer, and he says, "I'm sure she was."
If it was an insult, I missed the point.
I'm still straddling the Ex-Ozzie, and I pull away, squeezing his crotch lightly again as I slide off his body. Heero visibly quakes with rage, but I wave a careless hand at him to tell him just how much I give a fuck. We have a deal between us, Heero and I. What we catch, we get to question. I caught this one--he's mine.
"Next question," I say, pivoting to let my braid swing behind me. I can feel two sets of eyes watching the hairs on the back of my neck, but they don't stand on end, and I am not intimidated. "Gundanium mobile dolls could only be built in space. All the known facilities have already been destroyed... so where are they coming from?"
He spits at me. "I don't know!"
Maybe they made a new one?
But how did they know how to build it? How to use it? There's a specific process...
I turn very slowly and narrow my eyes at him. "I let it go the last time you lied to me. This time, I'm going to remove your finger." I approach him and take the struggling pinky I had given mercy to before, edging my knife along the joint between his bones, looking for the right angle to make a clean break. I used to know a butcher in the heart of Jerret Town in Section C who did this... He had a collection of preserved fingers in jars in his office. He displayed them on shelves, one for every person who's ever tried to steal from him since his induction into the favor of crime lords. He was a hit man in the local Mafia, paid the police huge bribes to keep him off his back. There were a lot of jars in that office--I know because I'd tried to steal from him too, and the only reason I still have ten fingers is because I was seven at the time and the butcher never liked maiming children. He left me a scar for my troubles, and it twines along my middle finger like a ring. Heero asked me once about it during one those quite nights between us; I can't remember if I ever told him the truth.
I allow a slight shake to clear my thoughts and grin at the Ex-Ozzie Man. "I'm in a good mood today. You tell me where the pretty metal is coming from, and this little piggy stays home." I wiggle his pinky for emphasis in my grip, and "Wee, wee, wee," just to be a smartass.
He trembles because he knows I'm going to do it. He knows that I want to.
He shakes his head. I grin wider.
"This little piggy had roast beef."
I yank out his little finger, joints popping, and raise my knife, measuring the angles. My victim's eyes widen in horror as I bring it down, sawing it off in a perfect, clean cut. I'm proud of how sharp my knife is, how well it slits through his skin, cutting around the bone. Blood screams out of him, and the Ex-Ozzie lets loose wretched cries of agony. He shakes so hard that the chair falls back, and Heero catches him, setting him even on the floor again. The Ex-Ozzie's detached finger is in my hand, his blood all over my arm, my face, my clothes. I bring the finger to my lips, watch in delight as he watches me, watching as I bite it and suckle at the blood like a babe on his mother's breast. The iron taste twangs in my mouth and saliva pools under my tongue as I slurp it down. I love the taste of blood, especially warm blood. I look down at his still-spurting pinky-fingerless hand and I bend forward to take the stub into my mouth. I feel like a vampire, but it doesn't seem to surprise Heero. My taste in food changes when I get like this. I prefer my meat raw.
When I pull away, I wipe the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, and give the Little Ex-Ozzie a devil-red grin. He screams again in a pitch that could shatter glass, if only there were windows in the room.
I hold out my free hand, Heero passes gauze and bandage without comment. I set the victim's finger in his own lap while I release his hand from the ties just enough so that I have room to fix him up temporarily. I've still got questions.
When I'm done bandaging, the blood has slowed down and the Ex-Ozzie is pale. He swallows hard, throat dry. He's trying to form words, but he can't. I hush him.
"Perhaps you misheard me," I tell him gently, taking back his finger from the thigh where I had laid it. "There is this metal, see. It's the strongest substance in the world, even stronger than diamonds. We call it gundanium, it's a world phenomenon; everybody wants it, Paris Hilton wears it. Your boss is even making dollies out of them, but not the cabbage patch kind. We want to know where this pretty metal is coming from, and where the dolls are going."
"I--"
"--won't fucking lie to the God of Death again, or he will take all the other piggies too. And then what's Mamma Piggy gonna eat?"
Heero stares. I chuckle at him.
The Ex-Ozzie blinks, shakes his head, works his mouth. Then he spits at me (missing), and it comes out bloody. Must've bitten through his tongue--youchies.
"Fuh--"
"Yeah, yeah," I wave it away, impatient. "I know. Fuck me. Let's be original, guy."
"Monst--"
"Monster? That's a new one."
He glares. Hard thing to glare when your finger's been cut off by a seventeen-year-old lunatic who thinks he's Death, so I respect it.
Heero shifts again, I catch his impatience. We're wasting time, here.
I grab his other hand and his other pinky. The room already smells like gore and piss, and I've only just gotten started.
The Ex-Ozzie jerks, screams again. Unexpectedly, tears slide down his gaunt, sweaty face, runny nose sniveling with every sob. "N-No," he stutters, "...p-please, I really don't know anything--"
"Alright then, tell me this." I press a red-stained thumb to my lip in thought and then pull it away, frowning. "Who's your boss?"
I already know. But I want to ask.
"T-Tsuberov."
Who looks mighty fine for a dead guy, I might add. "What is he going to do with the dolls?"
"G-Game."
"What?"
"Game," he mutters. "Your... mother."
Oh, right. That.
I decide to be fair. I did make the rules, and breaking them would be like lying. Can't have that.
"I suppose you've already heard that motto about running and hiding and never lying." There is no reaction from him, but I know he knows, and even if he doesn't, it doesn't matter. I'm doing it for Heero, because I think Heero'd like to know. We all want to know. "Well, the last thing I remember of my mother is a lie. I don't remember what happened--she had come home, and she was bleeding. All over. Someone had raped and beaten her, I think... happened... I knew even at three that she was dying. I remember that she'd fallen through the door, and I tried to drag her to the couch. Didn't get far. She'd just lain there, and she took my hand. Touched my cheek with her bloody fingers, you know? And I was crying so hard I scared myself. I was worried for her. I was only three. I was allowed." I pause, have to look away for a moment. It all comes back to me--the blinding terror that came with my tears, the violet red stains pooling through her skimpy blue shirt, the shreds that remained of her ass-hugging denim pants.
The iron sting of her hand slapping my face so hard, my brain rattled.
"She hit me. Hard. She said that boys don't cry. Even when she was dying, she said that if I cried, I was nothing but a weak little girl. She was cruel about it. She asked me if I had a dick, if she'd given birth to a fag." I have grin at that. It's almost funny. "Boys don't cry. That's what she said."
Heero stands there and he gawks. Or at the very least, I think he gawks. I'm not sure. You never can tell with Heero.
"Almost forgave her for it, but..."
Doesn't matter. I twiddle the detached finger in my hand like a tiny baton, and the two other occupants go green with sickness.
"She lied. You see, I asked her if she was going to die. She told me that she wouldn't, and then she did. I don't like that. I don't like liars, Little Piggy. I don't like liars at all."
I glance back at him, unmoved by own memories. I'd faced them down a long time ago. "Now," I say, brushing my bangs. My eyes are desert dry, have been for years. "I get two questions. Here's the first: where's the gundanium going, coming from, blah, blah, blah?"
"Don't know."
I don't even bother to hide my impatience. His finger is getting cold and ucky so I walk over and set it back in his lap. He can keep it. "What is Tsubie going to do with his dollies?"
He stares down at the finger, contemplating an answer through the pain. When he takes too long, I make to grab his other finger, and he spits out what I want to hear, nearly pissing his pants in the process. "He's g-gonna a-att-attack, attack, ah--"
I step away, roll my eyes. "Breathe, Little Piggy."
"--S-Sanq! Destroy the symbol, start another war."
"Why?" I'm not surprised. I already knew, I just like to make people repeat themselves.
"M-money. War is profitable to Romefeller."
I lift a brow, striking across another useless thought. "Romefeller and Oz are not friends. Neither are White Fang to the rest of you. Why would the bitter remnants of all the factions ally together under Tsuberov?" It's the only thing I didn't quite understand. The politics don't make sense.
He doesn't answer.
I slap him, hard, like my mother did. He groans; he's bit his tongue again.
"Answer."
Heero folds his arms because he wants it just as much as I do.
My captive laughs at both of us. "That gundanium isn't just going to the dolls, you little whore." He breaks off with another bloody wad of spit, this time nailing me right in the face. He keeps laughing as I slowly wipe it away with careful fingers. No emotion leaves my face, no flicker of psychotic joy burning the edges of my lips.
I grab his hair, pull his head back to expose his throat. The knife kisses that bobbing Adam's apple again, and I yearn to cut it out.
The Ex-Ozzie only laughs harder. He's broken, he finds his own misery hilarious. He'll tell me everything I want to know because he doesn't care anymore, and I find it pathetic.
"He's got Epyon," the Piggy chokes, trying to breathe and failing. His face is as red as said gundam's armor. "He's rebuilt Epyon, system intact. They jus' wanna piece of the pie."
The bob of his neck parts in two, laser-cut titanium alloy slashing his jugular. He gargles, black-red saliva burbling from the edges of his mouth. He's still trying to laugh, but he's choking on his own blood. It sprays in an arc, catches half of me. I let him go, he falls back in his chair. Convulses. Goes limp.
Guess he didn't know anything, after all.
Heero steps out from behind the chair, puts his thick calloused hand on my blood-soaked shoulder. He looks into my eyes, searching for a sign of the man that he'd fallen in love with. I watch him watch me, wondering if he'll find it. Wondering if I care.
And then I lean forward and kiss him chaste, taking him by surprise. I linger. I don't say anything.
He wraps his arms around me, and neither of us say anything at all.
--Fini