#50 - Spade GW/X-Men
Title: Ground
go BOOM!
Author: silvercaladan
Fandom: Gundam Wing/X-Men
Word Count: 1624
Challenge: #50 - Spade
Rating: Rish
A/N: Relatively AU; I much prefer to interpret the Gundam pilots as altruistic terrorists, similar to the IRA. [adjective]![noun] is an actual phrase in fanfic jargon, and it is placed in this fic on purpose, as most of you realize (aka Goth!Sue or Smart!Usagi). Duo Maxwell of Gundam Wing is my claim.
Ground go BOOM!
It was a standoff of the worst, most cliché kind, found in every single Western-based movie I’ve ever seen. And I like to fancy myself something of a movie buff. Even managed to somehow get my hands on this one done by William Shatner of Star Trek fame. The standoff scene in that movie was creepy; Shatner was playing both the good and the bad guy, and this was before the age of digital (hard to believe there ever was one, ugh).
So, I was minding my own business, playing the part of a panicked base employee. Basically this entailed running the hell away from the firestorm that used to be the hanger. Well, more like stumbling haphazardly in a rather hurried fashion over everything in my path, but hey, I thought I was playing the part well. Especially since I knew that any other explosions were totally not my fault: I only set off one. If they keep the jet fuel in the same hanger, it’s not my fault.
Then I catch the gaze of this one dude about five hundred meters to my left, running straight at me. Now, this wouldn’t be weird because a mob of people runs in every direction, including right at the fire, and I have plenty of experience with mobs of people. No, what drew my utter fascination with him were his eyes. They were these evilly glinting black things with red pupils.
“My Momma, she always said it’s not polite to stare, homme.” He shouted congenially over the delicious background noises of destruction. Oops. Guess standing in the middle of a horde with your mouth open and a “what the fuck” expression not aimed at the fire is a bit… telling. Amateur of me.
“Yea? Well, my Momma, she don’ say nothin’ cuz she dead!” I mocked back at him, relaxing into a loose stance. A feral grin stretched across my face in anticipation of an infuriated attack.
He just grinned right back at me, and twirled the staff in his hand a few times. Weird. This one was unusually resistant to passionate assault for a military dude. And military he had to be, trenchcoat or not, cause no one else has the money to equip their soldiers with lightweight full-body armor. Looked high-tech, too. Should steal myself some.
Silence. I hate silence. So boring. I stood up abruptly, put my hands on my hips arrogantly, and scolded him. “I’m getting kind of bored, here! You going to attempt to arrest me, or what?”
Ash and floating embers blew past in an updraft. Fire’s gettin’ bigger, it feels like. Small fires don’t make their own wind. Good; it’ll take longer to put out. Everyone’s run off by now, and no emergency personnel have come this way either. S’why I picked it for an escape route. Backfired on me, now. He wouldn’t have dared attack me in a crowded space.
Standoff at high noon, only a grey dusk and two fucking weird excuses for soldiers.
He reaches into his pocket, and I tense. I’d reach for my gun if I, y’know, had one on me. Heero always said I was a fucking moron for not carrying one on bombing missions, but hey, firing things around the explosives I used this time is just praying to lose your limbs. Besides, it’s easier to play the defensive game and just get the jump on some moron with a submachine gun and… appropriate it. Less shit to carry in, less chance of getting discovered early. Backfired on me, too.
I even had a plan this time. Bah. Plans suck.
Creepy-eyed guy is moving really slowly. He’s either an incredibly sadistic person or some drama queen.
… He pulls out playing cards. Cards. What the hell!? Is he going to do a magic trick? Dude fans them out, and lobs one in my general direction, grinning like I just made his day.
Cards!
Hey, I’ve never seen cards fly that straight. They’re strips of thickish paper, for God’s sake, and I have trouble flicking them into a hat a foot or two away.
It’s an Ace of Spades. Bastard never pops up when I have a black Jack.
It’s glowing all pretty purply-pink like potassium chloride.
That can’t be good.
I don’t so much jump out of the way as get blown on my ass. Fucking card detonated in front of me, leaving a crater the size of Wufei’s ego. Shiiiiiiit. That’s fucking amazing!
“DUDE! You have got to share your secrets, because if I could do that, the world would be a fucking awesome place. I’d be like some super-Maxwell night creature, able to blow up buildings in a single bound! Look! In the sky! It’s Shinigami!”
“Merde! You talk a lot, non? Ain’t you got to breathe between words?” He’d walked over and was watching me, amusedly, as I gestured wildly and continued ranting about what I could do with cards like that.
“I mean, WHOA! I could, like, blow up an entire mobile suit with one or two of those! Granted, I’d have to learn how to throw them so straight and so far, but it would so be worth the time.”
I paused in my rant, and leveled my best death glare at him. Nothing compared to Heero’s, but it works, most of the time. “You tried to kill me with the most kickass weapon ever! I don’t know whether to stick the knife in my boot between your eyes, or beg you to teach me, oh master.”
He laughed, long and deep, his eerie red-on-black eyes gleaming in the firelight. Strange man. “I like you, homme. One thief to another. Dey’s catchin’ up. Leave, b’fore you get caught.”
“What’re you playin’ at?” He has me almost dead to rights, unless he gets closer and I can get within that stick’s reach… so why does he want to let me go? This military dog gets more and more interesting. And those cards!
He notices my eyes following the stick, and puts it away on some loop on his belt, holding his hands out in the universal ‘I come in peace’ gesture. I raise an eyebrow, and he grins again. “What ever you got.”
Almost immediately, our eyes snap to the right, back towards the burning hanger. “GAMBIT!! You alright, sugah?!” A new voice, honeyed American belle, screams from just around the corner over crackling explosions. Jesus, what all did those morons store in there that wasn’t on the diagrams? Are they feeding it or trying to put it out?!
I feel him, presumably Gambit, sidle up beside me. “Play along, an’ you won’ get caught.”
I eye him speculatively. “If you punch me in the stomach, I’m biting your ear off.”
He laughs, but kneels down and gestures at his shoulder. Ah, so the ole ‘He’s unconscious and I’m carrying him to safety’ maneuver. I roll my eyes, but lay myself across his shoulder. Rag doll time, and none too soon.
“Remy! Thank gawd you’re alright. Even Ah got knocked over by tha’ last explosion.” Couldn’t see what her face looked like, as I was too busy being Unconscious!Man, but she sure as fuck sounded hot. And if she was wearing body armor too, I’d bet it was enough to give a man wet dreams.
“I’m fine, chere. Jus’ carryin’ dis man out of danger.” He shifted, and I felt a pat on my legs as if he was gesturing to me. I felt like a sack of potatoes or something.
Her voice moved closer, probably taking a better look at me. “He okay? Don’t look like he’s bleedin’.”
“Jus’ unconscious.” Smooth charmer of a thief. Man after my own heart, he is. Probably giving the owner of that voice his most sultry look.
“If ya say so, Cajun. Ah’m goin’ back to the fire. Might be more explosions.”
A bit longer being Raggedy Andy, and then suddenly Remy-Gambit-Crazy!Man was balancing me, and I stood on my feet. “Thanks, man. I owe ya one. Wasn’t looking forward to what death sentence they’d have come up with this time.”
He patted me once more on the shoulders, and then drew back a step or two. “No problem, homme. Rogue, she means well, but she don’ understand not all military as nice as mercenaries. OZ, dey bastards of de worst sort, specially to mutants.”
“Amen and Halleluiah. OZ should rot in hell.” I stuck out my hand, unwaveringly meeting his uncanny gaze. “My name is Duo. Duo Maxwell. I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie.”
He grasped mine, his fingerless gloves rough against my palms. “Remy, Remy LeBeau. Dey call me Gambit.” He withdrew his hand, and I stuck mine in my pocket.
I motioned with a jerk of my head back at the explosion. “They call me Shinigami. You’re a mutant.”
“Dat a problem?” He looks completely nonchalant. Dude must rock at poker.
“Yes!! It means I can’t do the really cool exploding cards trick!”
He threw back his head and laughed, and I joined him, this time. He held out another card, this one decidedly not glowing, cause I definitely checked. “A Joker? Nice.”
“Keep it. We should play a game, sometime.”
I took it from him gingerly, turning it over in my hands. “Why? So we can hustle each other?” I glanced up from the card to see his amused expression, and then placed it in my pocket. “Thanks, man. Be seeing ya.”
He waved a little finger wave, and turned and strutted back from wherever he came. I watched for a second, then sense got the better of me and I slinked off into the darkness.
Author: silvercaladan
Fandom: Gundam Wing/X-Men
Word Count: 1624
Challenge: #50 - Spade
Rating: Rish
A/N: Relatively AU; I much prefer to interpret the Gundam pilots as altruistic terrorists, similar to the IRA. [adjective]![noun] is an actual phrase in fanfic jargon, and it is placed in this fic on purpose, as most of you realize (aka Goth!Sue or Smart!Usagi). Duo Maxwell of Gundam Wing is my claim.
Ground go BOOM!
It was a standoff of the worst, most cliché kind, found in every single Western-based movie I’ve ever seen. And I like to fancy myself something of a movie buff. Even managed to somehow get my hands on this one done by William Shatner of Star Trek fame. The standoff scene in that movie was creepy; Shatner was playing both the good and the bad guy, and this was before the age of digital (hard to believe there ever was one, ugh).
So, I was minding my own business, playing the part of a panicked base employee. Basically this entailed running the hell away from the firestorm that used to be the hanger. Well, more like stumbling haphazardly in a rather hurried fashion over everything in my path, but hey, I thought I was playing the part well. Especially since I knew that any other explosions were totally not my fault: I only set off one. If they keep the jet fuel in the same hanger, it’s not my fault.
Then I catch the gaze of this one dude about five hundred meters to my left, running straight at me. Now, this wouldn’t be weird because a mob of people runs in every direction, including right at the fire, and I have plenty of experience with mobs of people. No, what drew my utter fascination with him were his eyes. They were these evilly glinting black things with red pupils.
“My Momma, she always said it’s not polite to stare, homme.” He shouted congenially over the delicious background noises of destruction. Oops. Guess standing in the middle of a horde with your mouth open and a “what the fuck” expression not aimed at the fire is a bit… telling. Amateur of me.
“Yea? Well, my Momma, she don’ say nothin’ cuz she dead!” I mocked back at him, relaxing into a loose stance. A feral grin stretched across my face in anticipation of an infuriated attack.
He just grinned right back at me, and twirled the staff in his hand a few times. Weird. This one was unusually resistant to passionate assault for a military dude. And military he had to be, trenchcoat or not, cause no one else has the money to equip their soldiers with lightweight full-body armor. Looked high-tech, too. Should steal myself some.
Silence. I hate silence. So boring. I stood up abruptly, put my hands on my hips arrogantly, and scolded him. “I’m getting kind of bored, here! You going to attempt to arrest me, or what?”
Ash and floating embers blew past in an updraft. Fire’s gettin’ bigger, it feels like. Small fires don’t make their own wind. Good; it’ll take longer to put out. Everyone’s run off by now, and no emergency personnel have come this way either. S’why I picked it for an escape route. Backfired on me, now. He wouldn’t have dared attack me in a crowded space.
Standoff at high noon, only a grey dusk and two fucking weird excuses for soldiers.
He reaches into his pocket, and I tense. I’d reach for my gun if I, y’know, had one on me. Heero always said I was a fucking moron for not carrying one on bombing missions, but hey, firing things around the explosives I used this time is just praying to lose your limbs. Besides, it’s easier to play the defensive game and just get the jump on some moron with a submachine gun and… appropriate it. Less shit to carry in, less chance of getting discovered early. Backfired on me, too.
I even had a plan this time. Bah. Plans suck.
Creepy-eyed guy is moving really slowly. He’s either an incredibly sadistic person or some drama queen.
… He pulls out playing cards. Cards. What the hell!? Is he going to do a magic trick? Dude fans them out, and lobs one in my general direction, grinning like I just made his day.
Cards!
Hey, I’ve never seen cards fly that straight. They’re strips of thickish paper, for God’s sake, and I have trouble flicking them into a hat a foot or two away.
It’s an Ace of Spades. Bastard never pops up when I have a black Jack.
It’s glowing all pretty purply-pink like potassium chloride.
That can’t be good.
I don’t so much jump out of the way as get blown on my ass. Fucking card detonated in front of me, leaving a crater the size of Wufei’s ego. Shiiiiiiit. That’s fucking amazing!
“DUDE! You have got to share your secrets, because if I could do that, the world would be a fucking awesome place. I’d be like some super-Maxwell night creature, able to blow up buildings in a single bound! Look! In the sky! It’s Shinigami!”
“Merde! You talk a lot, non? Ain’t you got to breathe between words?” He’d walked over and was watching me, amusedly, as I gestured wildly and continued ranting about what I could do with cards like that.
“I mean, WHOA! I could, like, blow up an entire mobile suit with one or two of those! Granted, I’d have to learn how to throw them so straight and so far, but it would so be worth the time.”
I paused in my rant, and leveled my best death glare at him. Nothing compared to Heero’s, but it works, most of the time. “You tried to kill me with the most kickass weapon ever! I don’t know whether to stick the knife in my boot between your eyes, or beg you to teach me, oh master.”
He laughed, long and deep, his eerie red-on-black eyes gleaming in the firelight. Strange man. “I like you, homme. One thief to another. Dey’s catchin’ up. Leave, b’fore you get caught.”
“What’re you playin’ at?” He has me almost dead to rights, unless he gets closer and I can get within that stick’s reach… so why does he want to let me go? This military dog gets more and more interesting. And those cards!
He notices my eyes following the stick, and puts it away on some loop on his belt, holding his hands out in the universal ‘I come in peace’ gesture. I raise an eyebrow, and he grins again. “What ever you got.”
Almost immediately, our eyes snap to the right, back towards the burning hanger. “GAMBIT!! You alright, sugah?!” A new voice, honeyed American belle, screams from just around the corner over crackling explosions. Jesus, what all did those morons store in there that wasn’t on the diagrams? Are they feeding it or trying to put it out?!
I feel him, presumably Gambit, sidle up beside me. “Play along, an’ you won’ get caught.”
I eye him speculatively. “If you punch me in the stomach, I’m biting your ear off.”
He laughs, but kneels down and gestures at his shoulder. Ah, so the ole ‘He’s unconscious and I’m carrying him to safety’ maneuver. I roll my eyes, but lay myself across his shoulder. Rag doll time, and none too soon.
“Remy! Thank gawd you’re alright. Even Ah got knocked over by tha’ last explosion.” Couldn’t see what her face looked like, as I was too busy being Unconscious!Man, but she sure as fuck sounded hot. And if she was wearing body armor too, I’d bet it was enough to give a man wet dreams.
“I’m fine, chere. Jus’ carryin’ dis man out of danger.” He shifted, and I felt a pat on my legs as if he was gesturing to me. I felt like a sack of potatoes or something.
Her voice moved closer, probably taking a better look at me. “He okay? Don’t look like he’s bleedin’.”
“Jus’ unconscious.” Smooth charmer of a thief. Man after my own heart, he is. Probably giving the owner of that voice his most sultry look.
“If ya say so, Cajun. Ah’m goin’ back to the fire. Might be more explosions.”
A bit longer being Raggedy Andy, and then suddenly Remy-Gambit-Crazy!Man was balancing me, and I stood on my feet. “Thanks, man. I owe ya one. Wasn’t looking forward to what death sentence they’d have come up with this time.”
He patted me once more on the shoulders, and then drew back a step or two. “No problem, homme. Rogue, she means well, but she don’ understand not all military as nice as mercenaries. OZ, dey bastards of de worst sort, specially to mutants.”
“Amen and Halleluiah. OZ should rot in hell.” I stuck out my hand, unwaveringly meeting his uncanny gaze. “My name is Duo. Duo Maxwell. I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie.”
He grasped mine, his fingerless gloves rough against my palms. “Remy, Remy LeBeau. Dey call me Gambit.” He withdrew his hand, and I stuck mine in my pocket.
I motioned with a jerk of my head back at the explosion. “They call me Shinigami. You’re a mutant.”
“Dat a problem?” He looks completely nonchalant. Dude must rock at poker.
“Yes!! It means I can’t do the really cool exploding cards trick!”
He threw back his head and laughed, and I joined him, this time. He held out another card, this one decidedly not glowing, cause I definitely checked. “A Joker? Nice.”
“Keep it. We should play a game, sometime.”
I took it from him gingerly, turning it over in my hands. “Why? So we can hustle each other?” I glanced up from the card to see his amused expression, and then placed it in my pocket. “Thanks, man. Be seeing ya.”
He waved a little finger wave, and turned and strutted back from wherever he came. I watched for a second, then sense got the better of me and I slinked off into the darkness.