You know… sometimes it’s not so hard. Sometimes it’s not so cold. Sometimes it’s not so devastating hopeless. If only I can find that place in my head, that little spot in my mind where everything is bliss. My own private wonderland. Where there is enough food, water, clothing and shelter. Where everybody is friendly and honest and nobody has to be afraid or on the run. I only need five minutes, five measly minutes to reach that place and feel better. To find new strength and to give hope.. only five minutes, God, please.
"Only five fucking minutes until the bombs go off, Maxwell! Duo, where are you?"
The exploding sound in my ear jerks me awake from my reverie. Christ, this wasn’t supposed to happen! I’ll be blown to smithereens if I don’t hurry.. a sharp sting of pain brings me completely back to the present. The disk with the codes is stabbing my ribs. Fuck! I can’t.. I can’t botch this mission! I key in the last code of the detonation set in front of me. Now I have to run like hell- I couldn’t afford me the blackout I had; the schedule was tightly set. Yeah, as if Professor G would leave some room in his cramped-planned-to-the-millisecond-mission.
The first of the detonation sets is going off and the ground rocks violently. I loose my balance and fall because of the heavy shaking; alarms screaming in my head to get the hell out of here. So many people have already died for this disk I’m carrying and I was daydreaming! I start to run. Heat is increasing behind me, I don’t dare to look around. My braid is safely tucked away in my black shirt, I can feel it itch because of all the sweat running down my back. Come on! People are relying on you! More detonations go off, sending complete stories of the office building into bits and pieces scattering all over. I hear people screaming, they must have been working late. It’s not a consolation that they are ‘the bad guys’, working for the Alliance who is oppressing and controlling the colonies "in the name of justice and peace". These people are not soldiers who chose to fight, they are office workers and they did not deserve to die, no matter which side they are on. Did you hear that, Father? You would’a been proud of me if you heard me say that. You always saw the good side of everyone- even of the soldier who pointed his gun to your head. No matter how many times I called myself Shinigami or tested you with my belief in the God of Death, you would still smile and talk about God and life. No time to waste. I gasp for air, my lungs fill with smoke and my eyes start to water. I make it out of the building- intact, smudged and tired but with the disk. In the existing chaos and with my ability to sneak through everything using shadows and mere skill, it’s not really hard to get into safety. That is, finding the group of rebels currently being the thorn in the side of the Alliance, hiding out near the building to provide me back up or finish my mission when something goes wrong or happens to me. I almost scream out loud when someone grabs me by the arm.
"Maxwell! Why are you so late? You could have outrun the explosions much faster! What took you so long?"
Chang Wufei is a man of few words, but the ones he uses are always carefully chosen, except when he is agitated. And he is, because he forgets I’m still wearing the earpiece connected to the transmitter he is holding and screaming into. Great, I’ll be deaf in the morning. Above all, Chang Wufei is not an easy satisfied man, especially not when it comes to me. If I answer "I was daydreaming about my perfect place" he will kill me if it wasn’t for the consequences of my death, and if I answer "I don’t know", he will chew me out until he finds an answer that will meet his standards. And if I live to tell it, he will be chewing me out for a few more weeks to come.
"Not now," I snarl, "get to the Underground first!"
He nods and turns around to bark his usual commands. Whatever the situation, he is always levelheaded enough to oversee it and to handle it, a solid rock I have come to trust. He understands that now is not the time to discuss my late arrival, first we have to get home.
"Home" is The Underground, not really an underground in terms of a metro station, but the name for the place I chose to hide from the Alliance, a long time ago. It used to be an upper-class high society snooty suburb, abandoned after several attacks from the military. I don’t know why someone would design and build an upper-class suburb on L2 of all places, as in my memory this colony has always been deprived of everything, poor and rotten, but hey.. according to Professor G there has been a time when things went well and even L2 knew prosperity and organized society despite the ongoing war. He should know it, he is old enough to have lived through it. From the outside, The Underground looks haggard and ruined and all, but it’s the buildings that survived the attacks we’re talking about. We only do minimum repairs so we can live in them without having the roof falling on our heads. Hey, we don’t have to give the Alliance nor our beloved corrupted government the impression that one of their most opposing rebel groups lives here, now do we? When people started to join me, they first opted to call it "Hell Hole", but I strongly objected. I didn’t want that name. Too raw. Too close. It had never been mentioned again and everybody uses now "The Underground".
The group has split up as to confuse Alliance soldiers eventually chasing us; an evasion as to give me and Wufei a head start to get away safely. I arrive at the Underground in time, panting with exhaustion. Wufei pinches me in the shoulder, his question of "Everything alright?"
I can only nod. We outran patrolling guards, some cops and made a few detours to make sure nobody followed us to here. People are waiting for us; women and children are seeking out their fathers, brothers or nephews in the backup group, trickling inside behind us. Chang Meiran seeks out her husband and almost topples Wufei with her tight hug. I shut my ears for the cries of relief. Yes, the mission was successful. People are touching me, patting me on the back or shoulder, shouting congratulations and other things I hardly hear. I see Hilde in the mass of faces but she can’t reach me through the crowd. Wufei releases Meiran, relief so plain in her eyes that it clenches my gut. She smiles, waves and mouths something that gets lost in the maelstrom of people and excitement. I wave back and with the movement of raising my arm I feel the disk. I have to get it to Professor G.
Nobody notices my slipping away from the crowd and I enter the hallway, a high arched connection between the room where we were just standing and the separated quarters of this large building. This used to be a majestic, proud university in all its glory- but war, bombshells and just plain wrong politics ended it. I immediately chose this building upon my arrival. If a building can be lonely, than its loneliness was screaming at me. We were kindred souls in an instance. All windows are long since broken, the curtains that once graced them ripped off and gone. Chipped flakes of plaster and stone grinds under my shoes. I am just half way when I notice the girl, huddled in the windowsill.
"Hey," I whisper. "What are you doing here?" I know this girl. Her name has evaded me, but her face is familiar. "Isn’t it a little too cold to be out here, princess?"
She hugs a formless pile of cloth that has to represent a stuffed animal.
"Too warm," she says. She is barefoot. The glittering in her eyes and the unnatural redness of her cheeks inform me of the burning fever. I squat down to meet her face to face and wipe away a sweat soaked bang from her brow.
"Princess, if you are too warm you can ask Sally to make you cool again." Stupid words. I sound like a stupid freakin’ know-it-all.
"I dun’ wanna be in bed," she huffs. "Bed’s warm."
She offers me her shapeless toy and I take it, turning it around in my hands to see if it has a face. I find it, two small black buttons, probably representing eyes. I turn the toy with the face to the girl and wave it.
"I think your little friend here wants you back in bed too." I win her a smile. "He’s cold in the hallway and in your bed it’s nice and cozy. If it’s too warm, he wants you to call Sally and ask her to make you cool again."
"It’s a she," she laughs and stretches her hands.
"Duo doesn’t know that, Anna." Sally Po’s voice is level, sounding like a calm sea with waves when she decides to use more intonation. "He hasn’t met Mrs. Pea before."
"Nice to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Pea," I take a bow, "my name is Duo Maxwell."
"She knows that, silly," the girl answers and immediately launches into a coughing fit. Sally lifts her up with horrifying ease; I can count the ribs of the small body.
"You and Mrs. Pea are going straight to bed," she says firmly and with the child in her arms she wanders off. I follow her, not certain why. I have been in the sickbay before, hell, I had to be there whenever a mission went sour and I had wounds to be stitched or cleaned up. Reliable Sally Po, a former major of the Alliance, joined forces with me two years ago when the Underground was rapidly expanding and we hardly had anyone with medical knowledge and capable of applying the knowledge. She is a tall, determined woman who can act very stubborn, but always in the interest of her patients. Despite her past, she insists on wearing her Alliance uniform as to constantly remind her of why she is opposing them now. Her appearance is softened by her typical hairstyle of two twisted braids and the compassionate look in her eyes, twin pools seeking for the purpose of this war that I doubt she’ll ever find. We put Anna to bed, even go as far as to sing her a lullaby. I know some church songs and with a creative twist of words we leave her smiling and dozing off in her bed, Mrs. Pea right beside her.
After leaving the room, I stifle a yawn and turn to Sally to bid her goodbye. I know I will see her later in our so-called conference room where we will gather to discuss the disk and the course of the mission.
"She is not going to make it, Duo," she says, flat-out surprising me. It doesn’t take long for me to figure it out and now I understand why the girl was in a separate room. I clench my fists. No. No! Sally does not cry, at least not in front of me. She will be crying in the privacy of her own room- than the tears will come, flowing down like a river that only can be stopped when this hell will be over. The coded disk I carry is a big step towards ending that if I have to believe professor G and Quatre. It burns against my chest.
"We need everybody we can get," I croak. "Nobody is allowed to die. Children are not allowed to die."
She puts her hand on my shoulder and gives me a tight squeeze.
"I know, Duo Maxwell. I know."
I fucking hate you, Shinigami! Everything, everyone you have taken away from me! Sally backs away from me. I snap out of my little reverie. Judging her face, I must have looked pretty upset.. or pretty pissed.
"There must be something we can do. What do you need? Medications, blankets, syringes.."
There is an Alliance storage base near the capital city. It will take me some time but I know my way in there. I can take Wufei or Trowa with me and we..
"I’m so sorry, Duo." She interrupts my train of thought. "This fever, the infection.. I think it’s a new viral branch deriving from the Plague. I keep her in quarantine.. we can’t have a major outburst."
"I know." I sigh. It’s always the same thing. We don’t have the resources. We don’t have the means to produce the antidote. We don’t have enough medication. We are still loosing. Loosing to the Alliance and loosing to a fucking plague that appears silently, kills in a whisper and disappears again. You cost me my friend Solo and now you take more from me! Innocent children... bastard disease!
I hardly notice her taking her hand of off my shoulder.
"You look tired, Duo," she says, visibly holding on to her own courage to stand upright.
"That’s the understatement of the year." I try to evade her, really, but she sees right trough me.
"Why won’t you let anyone come close to you to help you?"
"I can take care of myself," I grit behind my teeth. Let go. Don’t stand so close to me! Don’t you know what I can do to you? Don’t you know what I do?
She subsides. "Don’t.. don’t keep doing this to yourself."
Finally she turns around and walks away from me, her retreating back disappearing from view.
"Get some rest!" she speaks out loud, echoing in the hallway.
My room is not far from here. I start walking, mulling over Sally’s words. I know she has the best intentions. But I can’t work with good intentions. I kill good intentions. Not surprisingly, I smell myself and I wonder how the hell Sally could stand it being so close to me.
Two stairs down. Most of the upper floors in the abandoned buildings are in weak condition and it’s a solid rule that no one lives on or higher than the second story, it’s too risky. We cannot loose people by the plague; we certainly cannot loose people by accidents that can be avoided. My feet are moving on autopilot. I have to find some water and clean myself up. I walk to my room and enter. Quatre, Wufei and Trowa keep insisting that I should take a room upstairs, as this university building is one of the most solid around. I always refuse; I don’t want to uplift myself above the people I am working with and living with. Furthermore, I had already chosen this room when I founded the Underground- I didn’t want to move.
My room is small and only contains a bed, a table and a chest. Why need more furniture when you don’t have use for it anyway? On the table is a bowl with water. I strip off my fingerless gloves and pick up the washcloth and try to clean my face, but the water is not very pristine to begin with. Damn weather-controlling pieces of shit! They always leave the rain out of the weather cycles, so it is always too hot or too cold on L-2 and when it does rain, we have to collect the water with pots and pans for use. I leave the washcloth on the edge of the basin. I can’t afford me to think about it. I’m tired and I want to sleep. God, these dark clouds are killing me. The face of little Anna flashes before my eyes.
A knock on the door. I turn around, but Trowa has already entered. He is one of the few persons who may enter without permission. He carries a tray covered with a linen cloth and puts it on the gray table, next to the bowl. I have to wait until he turns his head to see his expression- for some reason, half his face is covered with hair due to his choice to keep his brown bangs long at one side. I sometimes fantasize just for fun how he would look with short hair or long hair on both sides, but the truth is I can’t really imagine him like that. He blinks a green eye to me.
"We want you to come to the conference room," he says. It’s not a request. I sigh.
"How soon?"
He softens, just a little. "Take your time. No one expects you there within five minutes. G wants to take a look at the disk first anyway."
"The.." How could I forget? My hand goes inside my black vest. He holds out his hand.
"I’ll give it to G. You eat first and get some rest."
I hand him the disk, glad to get rid of the thing. He eyes it; a little transparent computer disk holding incredibly important information. So important it was apparently worth dying for.
"How are you?"
"Fine." He doesn’t meet my eyes.
"Quatre?"
"He’s fine. He wants to know why it took you so long to set the detonations, especially the last one."
"It wasn’t something he overlooked," I immediately react. "I was just.. a little absent-minded."
Not the best choice of words. He looks surprised. I know from experience that Trowa won’t speak again until I elaborate more. I don’t feel like explaining myself and tuck my hands in my pockets. Finally he gives in.
"You are very important to us, you know that, don’t you?"
"What?" I did not count on something so.. personal from Trowa Barton.
"You are the powerful, driving force of the Underground, a source of inspiration and strength to us all. These.. absent-minded situations are probably a sign on the wall that you are overexerting yourself. I can take missions.."
"No! No missions for you!" He is taken aback of my vehemence. I can clearly see the "Why?" in his eye, but the understanding daunts just as quickly.
"If this is about Catherine.."
"Damn right it’s about her," I blurt out. "She is your sister, your family, and she is pregnant!"
"You can not do this all by yourself. You are the only one taking missions, taking risks!"
"There is no one else who can do it," I growl. He wants to object, but I continue, bullying forward.
"I was the one who had to tell Cathy that her husband wasn’t coming home... ever. That still is for me the reason to take missions myself. I don’t leave anyone behind if something goes wrong."
"Stop saying that.. that crap about not leaving anyone behind!"
He must be really mad if I can clearly hear the exclamation point in his voice. I spare him a glance but I know it has hardly any effect. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, the dark green tone of his turtleneck combined with the dark blue ones of his jacket reminds me of a color picture I saw once of a sea. Green, blue waves of fabric. Of water. I shake my head to get rid of the image.
"If you die you wouldn’t know how lost we all are. Why do you think your life is less worth then anybody else’s? Because you don’t have a partner? Then it’s sure as hell time you get one, if only for watching your back!"
"I leave.." I start and see a really pissed off look forming on his face.
"You leave us behind."
"Wha..."
"Everybody here is important, as you keep repeating over and over," Trowa calmly states. He’s got me cornered. We’ve been over this ‘partner-watching-your-back’-thing before.
"Why do you think you are less important? Why do you refuse to have a partner? What are you afraid of?"
"I’m not afraid. I just don’t want.. an attachment. I don’t want someone waiting for me in vain.. I don’t want to leave anybody behind."
"You leave us behind," he repeats. "And don’t think less of us. You have never done so before, so don’t start now."
When I don’t answer, he starts to sum up his list of possible candidates.
"Wufei for instance is a perfect partner. Still you have him snoop around in bushes standing by, while you venture your ass in a factory retrieving a special coded disk. Sounds familiar? Wufei’s idea of helping this group is not scouting areas, hunting for food or waiting until you deign to show up from some hot-shit mission," he adds.
"Wufei is married for Christ’ sake," I answer tiredly. "When Meiran is pregnant one day, she is going to need her husband harder than ever. I do not want to tell another woman that she has to raise her child by herself."
From the silence that follows I know he will not suggest Quatre or Professor G- both are not expendable for their organization and strategic skills. I may be the leader in name, in heart, or in person- but even I can’t do everything myself. How cunning I might be, strategy and planning isn’t just my forte. He is devastating hoping to name himself as possible partner.
I yawn.
"You’re tired," he states plainly.
"Yes I am, mum."
He sees my hand moving towards the tray and reluctantly changes the subject.
"Don’t let it get cold. You need it."
"I’m still in my growing years," I grin and take away the cloth. One look tells me that it has happened again. A large, no, huge helping of potatoes, warm vegetables, sauce and three boiled eggs. I put the cloth back.
"Duo.." Trowa starts.
"Who has given up their rations?" I do not imagine the icy tone in my voice. Even Trowa blinks with his visible eye and scoots away a few centimeters.
"Who?" I ask again.
"You need the food and your strength," he says, sounding a little irritated. "Duo, we have been over this before."
"I don’t want people giving up their rations for me! They need the food themselves! Damnit Trowa, we cannot have people growing sick or being underfed because of their.. damn fucking admiration for me!"
Silence falls again. He is observing me from under his long brown bangs and then moves a little to the side, facing the door.
"You can’t help it that people here see you as their hero. They have given their rations without being forced to and they would be disappointed if you refused. Just eat the damn food, Duo."
The door swings shut. The click is audible and resonates like a church bell in my head. Puffing away some air I eye the food and take an egg.
The conference room is the largest room in the south wing and I make my way slowly and unsteady. The children I see are playing with whatever they have found and what their imaginations allows them to and the adults are greeting me. Some with awe clearly in their eyes, some respectful bowing. I really wish people would stop seeing me as their damn hero. I need to talk to someone why they even consider me a hero. I knock on the door and step into the room. Everybody is already present – Quatre, Trowa, Sally and professor G. Before I can ask where Wufei is, Quatre comes towards me and pulls me into a hug.
"Are you all right?"
"I’m fine," I reply without further thought. He looks oddly at me, shakes barely noticeable his head but rests his case. I am thankful for that and turn around to face Professor G. He lacks Quatre’s tact or politeness and starts fulminating right away.
"Why didn’t you get out there earlier? You knew the risks! You knew how tight the schedule was! You knew how important the disk was! I had everything worked out perfectly and because of your slowness it almost got blown to hell!"
"The corridors were longer than drawn in the plans," Trowa interjects. "It took more time to proper set the detonations because of the longer distance."
What the hell? Had Trowa been there, inside the building.. hadn’t he? I don’t want people walking around without my knowing it and I turn to face him to ask but G interrupts me.
"The plans were not outdated. He was slow! Unacceptable in missions! I.."
"Stop talking like I’m not here!" I almost scream. "I can damn fucking well answer for my own.."
"That’s enough." Quatre doesn’t need to yell. I can’t remember if I have ever seen him mad or screaming with rage, but when Quatre says "Enough" than it is enough. The silence that falls is bliss. I curse my pounding head.
"Duo," Great, I am the center of attention once again, "we need you in top shape and fitness."
I snort. "Yeah. And the Alliance declares universal disarmament before the end of this year."
G smacks his hand on the table.
"Stop playing the jester, Duo!"
"Alright, alright gramps," I mutter and mouth a silent "thank you" to Quatre who hands me a mug of coffee. He gives me a sympathetic look. G always acts tough like nails in the conference room- his fanaticism concerning the Alliance is sometimes frightening, even for me. Outside, in more private manners, we can get along quite well and I’ve learned a lot from him. When not on a mission, I went to him to get some private education. There was not much room or opportunity for school in my younger days. I cringe at the thought. I’m only twenty years old and I am thinking of my younger days. I take a sip of my coffee.
"So, what’s the big deal?"
"With the codes on the disk you retrieved, we could access the files on the disks you obtained in earlier missions. This confirms our suspicion that something big is going on in L2. Howard was right."
"Leave it up to Howard to come up with a good lead," I mutter. The old man lives like a hermit on his small junkyard, but he is always good for some information.
G points at the printouts of the files.
"Listen up, this is very serious. They are tentatively called Gundams." His voice is down, almost secretive. Everybody leans forward, attention focused on the professor.
"These are mobile suits based upon the old Alliance Leo-prototype, but far more developed. A Gundam is in average sixteen to seventeen meters high and weighs about seven ton. The alloy they’re made of is nearly invulnerable, because of its production in zero-G. Firearms and power are incredible. Look at this-" he throws a bundle of the printouts to me, "this one, called "Wing" and the other one, called "Heavyarms". Homing missiles, gatling guns, buster rifle, beam saber.. and I am not even taking in consideration the raw data on three other suits. These suits are much stronger than the mass-produced Leo. Take a good look."
"A Gundam for every colony cluster to exercise control over everyone living there, if only for their mere presence and terrifying power." Quatre leans on the table. Trowa sits next to him with our only available laptop; data scrolling on the screen. Sally reads the information over his shoulder, sometimes gasping in shock and eyes widening and narrowing in anger and fear.
I pick up the printouts and start skimming. "We have to destroy them all."
"These are only plans, but far developed plans. We have to find out more, checking if the Alliance already started the building, what plans they have to install them, when, where how. These Gundams form a terrible threat for every colony cluster.." G’s voice is slowly fading away. My full attention is pulled towards the designs on the printouts. Wing Gundam is a fucking enormous.. humanoid monster with a shield attached to its left arm and a beam, no, a buster rifle in the right hand that sends shivers all over my spine. What the hell is a buster rifle? Gundam Heavyarms is colored orange, but the gatling gun mounted on its left arm is intimidating. I skim more through the papers. Gundam Sandrock, destined for the L4 colony. Extremely heavy armor, equipped for heavy duty and extreme weather circumstances. Shenlong Gundam, a dragon headed all-purpose Gundam which reminds me strangely of Wufei. My curiosity gets the better of me. I want to know which or what Gundam is designed for the L2 colony cluster. There are only designs for four Gundams. I put down the printouts and look around the table.
"... so whatever the costs, we have to.. Duo, what are you looking for?" G sounds almost like himself again, but he moves a little bit away from the table and I see a stack of papers next to him. He holds his hands above it.
"Let me see that."
"What do you mean?"
"Don’t be stupid. Give me that."
He lifts his wrinkly hand and I snag away the papers and take a look at it. I suck in my breath. Gundam Deathscythe is drawn before me, a sketch rendering the image of the..
"It’s the Grim Reaper," I speak. The portrayed black Gundam is vaguely similar to a samurai, with a thermal scythe in its right hand and some sort of shield mounted on its left arm. It’s an image of a weapon of mass destruction, a harbinger of death.. and I can see the beauty of it. The beauty and the irony of a dark soul coming alive, wielding the scythe and slashing through everything that crosses its path. Silent and swift. A quiet death for those who scream for mercy when this demon, this monster comes for their lives and they realize they have lost. My breath is coming in hitching gasps.
I let go of the design as if it burns me.
"Allah in Heaven," Quatre sighs. He hardly calls the God of his religion, a sign of how shocking the news is for him. He rubs his chest absentmindedly, something he has done before. Trowa picks up the design of the Heavyarms Gundam. I see his appreciating look- as a mechanic he can really value the complicated works of a mobile suit. But the sheer firepower of the thing really sends ice through my veins.
"One for each colony cluster," he summarizes. "Each one has a typical design, somehow matching the colony. The Heavyarms Gundam with its firepower to impress the already heavily armed L3. The Shenlong Gundam with the dragon reference for the traditional oriental L5."
"And Death for the L2 Colony." I whisper and for a moment I doubt if anybody hears it. Death for the L2 Colony. There is an irony in it I am now not willing to see and I shake my head.
"We’ll talk about this tomorrow," Quatre takes the decision, seeing my reaction. "Duo is too tired and we are all shocked by the news of these Gundams. We need to think it over and adjust our tactics, after we have evaluated the consequences. We are not going to take hasty decisions."
Nobody utters a word of protest. G takes the design of the Deathscythe Gundam out of my hands and stands in front of me. When I look up he averts his eyes and wanders off, the printouts secured in his arms. Sally leaves the room without a word. Trowa closes off the laptop and Quatre stands in the doorway, thinking things over. I only want to sleep. In passing Quatre he puts a hand on my elbow.
"Duo, this is far greater than we can imagine. I think we need help on this."
"Make sure Wufei is here in the morning," I answer. "He needs to be informed too."
"Not too many though," Trowa interrupts. "We don’t want panicked rumors spreading around."
"You’re right. Man, my brain is running in circles without a stop sign in sight."
Quatre laughs. "Goodnight Duo. See you tomorrow."
Trowa raises his hand in a wave goodbye. Before he parts he almost whispers in my ear.
"You know you can be yourself when you’re with me, Quatre or Wufei. Please don’t play jester for us. "
I am standing alone in the hall, hearing Trowa and Quatre’s footsteps die away and I can do nothing but shrug. Being myself, I am the longest survivor among them. I have been on the streets for as long as I can remember, being taught the rules and basics of life by Solo, my best friend. He still is my best friend- despite him being dead. I know he stands besides me, I sometimes even imagine him touching me- a brotherly hug- but that makes me wonder if I am going really insane or if it’s a sign of my loneliness. I survived the plague. I survived the Maxwell Church Tragedy. I survived the ‘no family, no home’ period and a whole other load of shit. And it makes me an outsider, even among this group. Mercenaries have raised Trowa. Quatre derives from a wealthy family- until he clashed with his father about their respective ideas on pacifism and he was disinherited. Wufei.. no one knows where he comes from, but one day we found him, defending his sick wife hiding out in a miserable looking shack. After we had gain his trust and helped curing Meiran, he committed to us heart and soul, and that is all that counts for me.
They don’t call me Shinigami for nothing. I was around four when Solo and his gang took me in. I was around seven when he died in my arms and the Maxwell Church offered me a home. I was eight when the Tragedy happened and I was fifteen when I started my first work for what would become the Underground. Nobody has ever asked about the ‘gap’ in my biography. I know there are some just dying to know what happened to me. They all know you don’t survive on your own in L2. I was on my fucking own for almost half of my life on these streets and I survived. It makes me a fucking hero in their eyes. People joined me because they saw something in me, something that makes them trust me for bringing them shelter and hope. I wonder why they tagged me as the leader when they asked me if they could stay with me; I was only fifteen years old when starting this resistance group.
Without further thought I walk to my room. I undress myself and slip between the worn-out jumble of blankets and sheets. I am asleep within five minutes.
Chapter 2 |