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slow_as_hell

Where is Duo?

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May. 28th, 2004 | 01:01 pm
mood: busy busy
music: David Bowie -- As the World Falls Down
posted by: windandwater in slow_as_hell

Duo's Intro/Explanation for the New RP (which I'm sorta not participating in because I'm in Bangkok for 6 weeks)



Duo Maxwell glared at the piece of paper in front of him.

It was cream-colored and heavy, the fancy sort of paper that you used for wedding invitations or something like that, the stuff that said it was made of 98% pure natural linen. The carefully typed (typed! not laser printed!) black words stood out in clear relief against its creamy background.

Shit. This piece of paper probably cost more than Duo's shirt.

But it was the words more than the paper itself that was the focus of Duo's baleful glare. Words. Instructions. No... a politely worded demand and threat; one that came specially delivered and hand-couriered from Earth to L2, where Duo had to actually SIGN for the fucking thing before he ripped open the special packaging that surrounded a creamy envelope (also expensive linen paper stuff) which held the letter.

... special circumstances which surround your participation in... Gundams not needed in a time of peace... troubles fitting in with normal society... stress... best therapists on Earth... school... Preventers watching... might pose a danger to...

Duo lashed out, crumpling the letter into a tight ball in his fist. Him? A danger to society?! One who wouldn't be able to fit back into the mainstream?! What the fuck did he fight the war for, achieved peace for?! Did those fucking bureaucrats really think that he'd stop a war, just to go mug people on the street or something?

A snarl built under his breath, echoing in the currently empty scrap yard office. Wasn't he doing a good thing? Here on L2, helping recycle the useless bits of machines and mobile suits? Wasn't it penitence enough, to see a battle-scarred Leo or Aries or Taurus and wonder: Did I do that?

Fucking bureaucrats. Fucking government. Probably full of assholes who sat at the war, or directed it from the safety of cleverly hidden and heavily fortified bunkers, far away from where the REAL fighting (dying) was.

"Well, fuck that," Duo muttered to himself. He had to go. Now. He'd lived his whole life without taking orders from anyone (except Solo -- but he was like a brother -- and Sister Helen -- but she was a mother -- and G -- but he was like a crackpot uncle). There was no way in HELL he'd let some prissy stuffed shirts on Earth tell HIM what to do.

It would be easy... really easy to disappear again. After all, Duo Maxwell didn't really exist in any public records. He could hop the colonies... maybe even hide out on Earth where the Preventers (assholes) would never find him.

No one ever found Shinigami. Shinigami found them.

Duo spared a few minutes to wonder about the other pilots (01, 03, 04, 05). How would they take being ordered to some cleverly-disguised jail as "dangers to society"? Would Heero obey the order or would he look for his own path? Would Quatre politely decline, using his wealth and status to get around the rules? Would Wufei accept coddling and therapy from some straight-laced woman in a doctor's coat? And Trowa... well... Duo wasn't exactly sure, but wasn't it every kid's dream to run away to the circus?

Bah... it didn't matter. If they were smart, they would hide too (well, maybe not Quatre, he was just to recognized). What was the point of peace if you couldn't actually enjoy it and live life for yourself?

Plan in mind, Duo quickly left the salvage yard office, making sure to turn off the lights and lock the door behind him (no sense in raising suspicions just yet).

And on the floor, a small creamy-colored ball of paper lay.

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Comments {3}

girl_starfish

From: girl_starfish
Date: May. 28th, 2004 01:54 pm (UTC)
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Very cool. ^_^

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Sophie Hatter

From: kodalai
Date: May. 28th, 2004 08:11 pm (UTC)
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Egads! Now I have to write one of these. ;.;

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Courtney

From: driftingdoll
Date: May. 29th, 2004 12:09 pm (UTC)
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That was wonderful! *hugs* I'll post it asap!

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