Naraku: *stumbles onto a large stage* oof! Don't push, geez...
Amp: *from offstage, whispering* remember what we talked about!
Naraku: yeah yeah... *taps microphone* is this thing on?
microphone: *makes uncomfortably loud feedback noises*
Naraku: *winces* okay, I guess that answers that question... Anyway, you remember that fic I put out a while ago? The one with the long name and all the puns? Well, Ad just kept bugging me and bugging me for another part, cause you know how she loves puns. And, you know, she just wouldn't quit! I said 'Actually, puns are sort of stupid' But nooooo, she said 'They're the greatest things ever and we should have more of them!' and then she threatened me, and said that if I didn't write another part to my fic, that she'd sing "I'm a Little Teapot" with the motions and everything! Well, you know, that justy kind of scared me, so I decided to write this. And Ad, if you're listening, I _hope_ you're happy, and that you'll just quit bugging me now! Because, you know, the whole thing was getting kinda old. Like this rant. Yeah. So here it is. And, well, it's kind of un-betad, and un-spell-checked, cause wouldn't you know it, This D@MN COMPUTER DOESN'T HAVE MICROSOFT WORD!!!!! GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Whatever the hell the title was, Part 2
Little did Heero know, the only entertaining part of him was just as smart and calculating as the rest of him, and as it sang, told jokes and did other generally amusing things, (and the author can tell you, Heero singing, no matter how far into his subconscious it might be, is pretty damn amusing. Not to mention painful) it was silently planning a hostile takeover. It may have seemed unfair to the rest of poor Heero dear, but that stuff would all still be there, just... a little more fun. And Heero could definitely use a little more fun in his personality. The author chooses not to say he use a little more fun in his life because he already had Duo, who was just about the epitome of fun. Well, except for his little "hidden dark side" but that's not the sort of fic being written here. After all, we can't have guys in big helmets breathing everywhere and saying "Duo! I am your father. Come to the dark side!" Yeah. That wouldn't be good.
Now, um, let's see...
Oh yes, that little part of Heero figured that if it could just entertain those notions a little more, it could get them to form an army. A proverbial league of notions! United notions! And it was close... so close.... and then... they would take over!!!! WHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Meanwhile, it was stuck in some cheesy nightclub juggling flaming torches and wearing clown noses. It blamed its whole predicament on that infernal training we hear so much about. After all, if all that hadn't happened, it never would have had to recruit notions in the most degrading way possible, it would have been out in the open, free to lust after one Duo Maxwell to its heart content. For a minute, it considered whether Heero would have even met Duo had he not gone through all that training and entered the war. But hypothetical situations were pointless, and it had a job to do. Before Heero's bit of psyche could stop itself, it hypothosized a world without hypothetical situations. It told it the notions about this as part of its routine, but they booed it. It was sure to take the time to apologize for the old joke. After all, it didn't want to get on their personified bad sides. The author says 'personified' bad sides, because notions don't really have bad sides. Not really.
Meanwhile, Heero was having inner turmoil, completely unaware of the inner turmoil of parts of himself he was completely unaware of. Or is that redundant? No matter, anyway. He had failed a mission. A mission failure. Him, the perfect soldier, had failed a mission? 'And where does that piccolo sound keep coming from?' The author thinks that that little bit of psyche should hurry it up, because the consciousness Heero was currently using seemed to be outlasting it's warranty a bit. As you know, conciousnesses only last so long before they are replaced with a new, slightly modified versions. But Heero had been doing the whole "ninmu ryokai" "ninmu kanryou" thing for a very long time now, and little pits and peices were starting to wear out.
'Mission: self-destruct. Ninmu ryokai.' He considered jumping in the pool and drowning himself. 'No, too undignified.' Normally, he wouldn't have been worried about dignity, but drowning in three feet of liquid that was roughly 30% chlorine, 50% kiddie piss, 10% water, and 10% dead bugs seemed to be overdoing it a bit.
Heero wondered why they couldn't have just stayed on the nude beach. The view hadn't been bad either... He looked over at Duo again. 'If I've already failed a mission, then do it again, is it really failing it, or can I only fail once per mission?...Damn piccolo.' The author, not really being able to hear the elusive piccolo, was starting to get very scared by now, but Heero was still sexy as hell, so she forgave him and got on with the story.
'Mission: Think of ways to complete previously stated mission. Ninmu ryouki' Heero thought for a minute, but occurred to him that as long as his options were open, his method of decease didn't really have to painful. Sure, dying hurt like hell, but you know, the ancient Greek culture believed that there were many levels to hell, so in theory, dying could conceivably be quite pleasant indeed. Since Heero didn't know an awful lot about pleasantries, he decided to ask his main source of information on this subject. Duo Maxwell. 'Mission: Ask Duo how to kill oneself pleasantly. Ninmu ryoukai.' Heero was beginning to become somewhat apprehensive about all these ryokais and not a single kanryou, but he could get through this. 'Mission: complete previous missions before taking any more. Ninmu Ryo- hey wait a minute...' Anyway, he decided not to think of anymore missions (which involved taking another one, through his train of thought, but that's not important. Really) and just complete the ones before.
Duo had fallen asleep under that umbrella, in an effort not to think about annoying little kids who weren't actually there, and didn't hear Heero call his name. Well, actually, he did, but considering the sort of dream he was having at that particular time, he interpreted it in a completely different manner than intended.
"Heero..." He mumbled slightly huskily.
Heero took notice of the strange tone of voice, but took it as more of a 'just been asleep' kind of voice. He couldn't have been more wrong... Well, actually, he could have. He could have thought small, cookie-cutter shaped aliens from Neptune were invading Duo's voice box, thusly making it lower, or something equally ludicrous, but it's not very likely, so for everyday purposes, it's doubtful he could have been more incorrect. Anyway, going back to the earlier slightly saner insanity, Heero asked, "Can you think of a quick, painless way for me to die?" He hated asking for help, but thinking of ways to kill himself on his own was reminding him of his failed mission, which kept setting off that damn foreboding piccolo. A bass drum probably would have been more appropriate, but noooooo, his mind had to be weird and make a high pitched noise. He pondered what Sigmund Freud would have had to say about that.
Duo, in response to the question asked a while ago, (so you may want to read that last paragraph again, in case you forgot it entirely) shifted in his cheap plastic lawn chair and giggled a bit in his sleep. Then mumbled in a slightly-less-than-half coherent state "Been reading Shakespeare Hee-chan? It won't be quick unless you want it that way, and it'll probably hurt a bit, but what's a little pain to the perfect soldier?" The braided boy giggled slightly drunkenly and shifted again.
'Shakespeare? Hee-chan? What is he talking about? But he does have a point about the pain. I can handle it.' "Okay... how?"
"Ya mean, you don't know? Well, 'sokay, I'll show ya!" In his dream, Duo rolled over to do all kinds of things-that-would-squick-the-average-person-out to the bishounen lying next to him, but in real life, he rolled over to fall off the cheap plastic lawnchair. He probably would have preferred the first option, and so would the author, but that's the way the ball bounces. (Now that squicks even the author out, but only in certain context) "Ouch!" Duo sat up on the hard concrete and looked up at Heero, who was looking down at him expectantly.
"Well?" Heero prompted
"Well what?" Duo asked, rubbing his head, which had gotten knocked against the concrete.
"How do you suggest I kill myself?"
"Nani??!!?! Why do you wanna do that?" Duo was thoroughly confused and trying desperately to hide the evidence of his dream with a paper cocktail umbrella, which looked really quite odd if you didn't know what he was trying to do.
Heero sighed OOC-ly. He had been hoping he wouldn't have to explain this. But he would be dead in a little while anyway, so it was all moot. "I failed a mission."
Duo looked up at Heero with a very strange what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about? look on his face. "What the hell are you talking about?" Anyone who says Duo doesn't say everything on his mind, or face, rather, is flat out lying.
"You're always saying that all I think about is missions. You're right. I was thinking about you, and I made it my mission not to, but I couldn't stop, which means a mission failure, and the only option is self-destruction."
Duo eyes bugged. Not the same sort of bug that 10% of the pool was made up of, just the sort of bug where his already huge, beautiful, eyes got even more huge, but not really more beautiful, unless you have really weird taste. You know, the sort that finds chibis sexually attractive. Now that's weird. Anyway, his wide eyes got wider, and he managed to say, or choke, whichever verb strikes your fancy, "Thinking? About me?"
Heero nodded sloooooooooowly. As though Duo were stuuuuuuuuuupid. But he wasn't; he was just shocked. "Thinking. About you." He confirmed.
Inside that little corner of Heero's brain, one by one, the notions were becoming bored of that little bit of psyche's over-eager attempts to entertain them. And, as they noticed what was going on in the land of consciousness, they became intrigued and went to see what was happening. Much to the bit's dismay. As a result of this curiosity, suddenly Heero found himself consciously entertaining these notions of dragging the boy next to him away and doing things that would squick the average person out, and the author does mean more than just thinking. Mysteriously, information gathered in Literature class about Shakespeare and metaphorical meanings of "death" sprung to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't, for the life of him think of why he hadn't remembered earlier. Like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place, and other things sliding into place that won't be mentioned here, Heero figured it out. The knowledge of the existence of wet dreams helped too.
Much to Duo's partial terror, partial joy, a slow smile spread across Heero's face. "I have an idea on how I can die..." He leered. Heero Yuy actually leered at Duo. "You can help."
Duo wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he sure wasn't complaining. And notions of his own were beginning to form. Along about the same tracks as Heero's were. And by a strange, but not-so-coincidental coincidence, the author was beginning to form notions of her own.
Suddenly, the boys found themselves laying nude on a beach with a sign marked "Private Property of Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy, KEEP OFF" They weren't sure where they had acquired a beach, but they were too busy doing other things to think about it very long.
This was all very disappointing to the bit of Heero's psyche, who had been working very hard to get the support of those damned notions, just to have all its hopes and dreams brutally ripped and torn away. It walked depressedly offstage to the bar in the sleazy nightclub. The sleazy nightclub didn't really exist, it was just something created by the combined wills of the repressed bit of psyches from all human beings. Which means, somewhere, some part of you is pretty much always sloshed. Which might explain a few things. The bit couldn't, for the personafied life of it, (as bits of psyches don't really have lives, especially not this one) figure out how the dominant side of Heero had managed to develop a personality, after all, that's what it should have been there for, right? Notions, it decided, were very powerful things.
For the first time in it't life, the depressed, repressed, bit of Heero sat down to get sloshed. Which might explain a few things as well. Ironically, it happened to, accidentally, not on purpose, and through absolutly no meddling by the author, sit down next to a little bit of someone's repressed psyche with a sign on its back labeling it as "Duo's Hidden Dark Side."
It twisted its around to look at it's own personified back to see a sign labeling it as "Heero's Hidden Personality." Over the sign was a stamp he didn't remember getting, labeling him, in red ink even, as "VOID."
Heero's VOID Hidden Personality sobbed into its drink. It blamed it all on the notions. They simply refused to be entertained.
Duo's Hidden Dark Side turned to him, "can't get out either, huh?" he asked, completely flatly.
Heero's VOID Hidden Personality hiccuped. "no, and look! I'm VOID!!"
Duo's Hidden Dark Side inspected Heero's VOID Hidden Personality's sign very closely. "Yes, I see." he grinned slowly, "how... depressing."
Heero's VOID Hidden Personality looked at Duo's Hidden Dark side warily. "You enjoy pain and depression, don't you?"
Duo's Hidden Dark Side shrugged "Well, I am a Dark Side, aren't I?"
Heero's VOID Hidden Personality got an adorably confused look on its personified face. "Wait, wasn't there a referance to you earlier in this peice-of-literature-also-known-as-a-fanfic?"
Duo's Hidden Dark Side grinned suggestively "Heero's VOID Hidden Personality, I am your daddy. Come to the Dark Side."
Heero's VOID Hidden Personality suddenly didn't feel so bad about being VOID anymore, and suddenly began entertaining a whole new, but similar, set of notions. It didn't really appriciate them when they tried to follow Duo's Hidden Dark Side and it into a bedroom, though.
On a semi-unrelated note, the author would like to point out that the peice-of-literature-also-known-as-a-fanfic began and ended in a bedroom. Except not really, since she decided to make a semi-unrelated note.
 Actually, I rather like Hikaru Midorikawa's singing, but who am I to go against popular jest?
Oh yeah, now for the post-fic apologies.
Amp: sorry for using your "voice"
Ad: uh... please don't kill me. nuff said.