Angst bug: *flying around annoyingly* buzzzz-~~* Unidentified hand (from
out of nowhere): *squish*
Airen: *Points pointedly* That's even worse...
Airen: *grabs the muse* baka!
GDH: Well, there we go, I'm famous for short chapters and long intervals. *smiles*
Title: Independance Dawning (2)
By: Gundam_deathscythe_hilde@yahoo.com (and the muse, Airen)
Archive: Sure, but tell me first! Comments and
Critiscisms (C+C) is like water in a sandstorm!
Disclaimer: *beep* You have reached GDH's Disclaimer note. Any and all GW related stuffs don't belong to her, nor to you, surprise, surprise! All the rest belongs to me, so hah! Touch and die by my trigger happy ego. Leave your name and message at the tone and I'm pretty certain that Sotsu and Sunrise will never get back to you. GDH, however, will. *beep* Airen giggles*beep*
Pairings: *do we need these? Oh, yeah...they define our world!* 2x1, 4x3 (duh)
Warning/Info/Disclaimers/Rants: Some TWT (hey, they DIDN'T show EVERY mission, pplz!) but no AU, just a little paranormal activity (could it be a ghost? Naaaw...wait and find out.) Something I wrote 'cuz I was pissed about July 4th. It takes me a while to write stuff 'cuz I got TONS on my mind right now. No real content yet, just 'slums' stuff, no da! I was listening to Creed's "America" at the time, then Linkin Park's "Crawling", geez, go figure... In later parts, if at all, 'Sweet Lullaby' Belongs to R. Paige Geraldine, firstname.lastname@example.org so don't steal copyrighted information. Airen will kill. *demonic grin*
(fic, after mood music interlude...)
Crawling in my skin, these wounds they will not heal.
Fear is how I fall, confusing-confusing what is real.
There's somthing inside me that pulls beneath the surface,
It's like the self control I feel is never
confusing what is real.
(No, really, I did send a fic!)
Independance Dawning 2
I lock the front door behind me and turn down the dark sidewalk, walking steadily until I reach a dark alleyway. Yeah, this looks like the right kinda place. We've been hiding out in the slums. For some reason we all decided to hide out at the same adress. At least it makes group missions easier. Our Gundams? Well, only THEY know where they currently reside. My buddy Deathscythe is safe and cozy under a tarp in an old compound yard, compliments of Hilde. She's a good babysitter; hope she remembers his bed time, now. Honestly, she gets so motherly sometimes it's sickening, but I have to admit, I probably couldn't handle leaving my baby alone in a place like that for long. I guess I'm greatful for her company. Heero never told me where he hid Wing. Oh well, just as well. I never try to guess with him, it's probably right under our noses...speaking of noses, God, does this place stink! I can't even describe this stench, it's so sickeningly familiar.
I don't see any rats or mice like most people would imagine in an filthy street, but there's definitly tons of garbage, refuse leaking from the walls. Looks like the people here just dump it out the windows. I see a broken fire escape to my left. A huge cat is perched on the railing, haunched over like it's eating. I step closer and see that it's chewing on something larger than itself, sickeningly pale against what little light reaches it in the darkened alleyway. I don't want to know what that tiny figure is. I'm afraid from the stomach wrenching smell that I already do.
I step back, but some demented part of my brain stops my feet in their tracks and proppells me forward. The cat, clearly a calico, gives off a warning growl and hisses as my footsteps approach. The gnawing of its teeth and tongue continues through the silence surrounding. My skin grows cold, my flesh shivers of its own accord. I think I'm gonna hurl. My stomach is clenching, there's bile in my throat. I KNOW I'm gonna throw up. I never was very fond of those technicolor yawns. My hand clamps over my mouth and I turn and run from the dead infant, its worm infested body teeming with unnatural movements, twitching as the cat devours the corpse and maggots alike.
Poor baby. Poor dead baby.
Doesn't anyone care in this world? Throw a baby out the window with the garbage, like it wasn't a living being. Like it never had a soul. I'm angry now, more so than disgusted, but that's still a big notion in my mind. I think sometimes I hate this world, these people. Sick, Sick, SICK. Doesn't anyone value life any longer? Of course we're staying in America. The land of the free. Free to live, free to die, free to kill your unborn baby. There are laws against that in most colonies. L2, for one, but most people there are born illegally anyway. That's partly why we're stricken by poverty, that and the political powers. It used to be that a kid like me could easily find multiple corpses lining the city streets, bloody and rotten, all neglected and forgotten. I close my mind to these bad pictures. I can't take it, not today. It's supposed to be a good day, isn't it?
Suddenly I see a light in front of me. Where am I? Aah. I've been running. 1500th and seven long blocks from the safehouse. Although, I don't see how anything can be safe at all in a city like this. I s'pose it's better than an 'OZ' cell, but then, you can easily escape from one of those, with a little practice and finess. The light drifts to the opposite wall. I can see a woman and a man, talking. The woman has a leather sack in her hand, the man has money in his left fist. He seems to be haggling with her. Perhaps I've found my target? I sulk around an over-flowing dumpster at the corner, close enough to hear their deal. Her red dress is clinging tightly to the curves of her thigh. Her crimson dress shoes are flats and make little sound. She reminds me of a hooker on old 'slick-street', though I can't see her face. The man is the one with the flashlight.
"I've got fifty each of the 'Cold Bloodreds', The 'Imperial Starchasers' and the 'Neo-Grim Reapers'. Three 'Chineese Dreams' and Four of the 'Bombs' The whole set I can give you for two-thousand. If you want five each, that's five-hundred. I got more varieties in the warehouse, if you'd like." She was explaining, a hand on her hip.
"Five." She tossed her brown tresses over her slim shoulder.
"I only got four." The tall man said.
"Five, or no deal."
"Fuck, bitch, I want these and I'll only give you four fucking hundred!"
"Four seventy-five, but only because you complimented me so elegantly and prefessionally." She smiled.
"Damn whore! Fine, fine, get the hell back here. Four seventy-five." She took the money and tossed him a bag. He checked the inventory and walked off, kicking cans. He probably expected to pay more anyway. Once he was out of sight, she started to walk my way. Time to make my move.
"Hey, pretty lady, I got a deal for you...." She started at my voice.
"Hn. What ya got?" She held her stock close, a pistol in her right hand. Damn, she's quick. "And no funny shit. I've had enough come-ons for one night."
"Yeah, yeah, you're just doing business. I want five of each of those, and one each of your biggest ones. I'll give you a thousand for it, clean money. No less, no more. I know it's a deal, ne?"
"Hn, sounds like ya got juice. Cool, cool for you, 'k. Deal. Fine then, that'll do it." Not taking the gun off me, she used her left hand to deal out the goods into a large pink baggie while balancing the large leather sack on her shoulder. Man, women and their purses. When she was done, I handed her the money. She tossed me the bag. Now, in most cases, here's where the gun goes off. Apparantly she's not so bad afterall. She left in a hurry and I couldn't blame her. I don't bother to check the contents. I know it's all there. I head back to the house, my arms weighed down by the illegal fireworks, my mind by the tiny infant in the alley.