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Look what I found!
I've been looking through my older stuff, looking for some inspiration (which is an annoying little bugger) and found two of my pet projects. Both of them sort of fusions. One is borrowing heavily from every fantasy novel I've read in my life (includes a Quest to Save the World, dwarves, a hobbit, a dragon, and speciest remarks against the humans, dryads, nymphs and Trowa contributing to the dryad population). The other is the Discworld thing. It proved to be inspiring.
For some reason my computer insisted the document was created on September the 9th. It took me forever to prove it wrong. I don't know why that happened. Sure, I did a complete reinstallation in September, but the file itself should have the correct date saved up somewhere, shouldn't it?
“So, how do I look?” Duo asked twirling in front of the mirror. Dorothy leaned back and grinned at Heero.
“Not bad,” she drawled, staring at the young Death’s bottom, currently enveloped in a pair of low-slung black pants. Heero made a point of looking away. The god of death stared into the shiny surface intently. His slight form was enveloped in a tight black trousers, highlighted by a silver chain, looped around the waist. Similarly, the golden cross accented the black sleeveless top, covering his torso.
“But is this really necessary?” Duo whined. “What’s wrong with my normal clothes? They’re black and all.” The complaint seemed to do absolutely nothing, except maybe roll the spiky-browed woman’s eyeballs.
“Duo Maxwell. You now have a responsible position. It demands proper conduct and a matching décor. You absolutely cannot save the humanity wearing jeans.” The man scowled and looked back into the mirror.
“Tell that to Mr Spandex Shorts.”
“I resent that comment,” Heero drawled, running a hand over his brand new jeans.
“Don’t bring Mr I’ll Get The First Pair of Pants I See into this,” Dorothy said haughtily. “His existence would still be miserably devoid of style, if I hadn’t taken him under my wing.”
“That’s only one woman’s opinion,” the ex Perfect Soldier replied, crossing his arms.
“Duo, do not dare to add a jacket,” the blonde said suddenly, making the man stare at her pleadingly.
“Come on, Dot. I feel silly. These pants are ridiculously tight! They are indecent!”
“They emphasize your best feature.” Duo snorted turning back to the mirror.
“My inane talent for making an idiot out of myself?”
“No, silly, your butt!”
“My mistake.”
“Come on, dear. Ask Heero.” Two pairs of expectant eyes turned to the blue-eyed man. “What do you think?”
“Well, personally, I would say that is the braid,” he said almost shyly. Duo grinned and executed a small bow.
“Thank you.”
“Anyway. Since the matter of proper appearance is already decided,” ignoring the snorts, the lady continued, “we may now move to more important matters. Like, what exactly are you supposed to do?”
“You have no idea how glad I am you recognise it as such,” Duo drawled, throwing himself into a chair. “Any ideas?”
“You tell me. Can’t you make a miracle happen, or something along these lines?”
“One, define a miracle, two, we want the attention away from me, remember?”
“Okay, but it still is a good question. Can you make a miracle?”
“Like?”
“I think resurrection and turning water into wine are the most widely accepted wonders,” Dorothy said, nodding wisely.
“Resurrections I can’t do. They fuck up the big scheme and are largely un-aesthetic. Never tried the wine trick though.” Wordlessly, the blonde extracted a small bottle of spring water from her handbag and set it on the table in front of Duo, who stared.
And stared. And stared some more. Finally he gave up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a double espresso,” he said. Hearing a gasp and a breath drawn a notch faster than the usual, he looked up.
The bottle was filled with unidentified black liquid. The clear plastic just below the cap steamed up quickly.
The trio sat unmoving for a while, gaping at the occurrence. Finally, Dorothy reached out and poked the bottle. When it failed to bite her finger off, she uncapped it and took a sip. Tasting the strange beverage, she turned to the local embodiment of supernatural.
“As you wished. Espresso,” she said, handing it over. Brief silence followed. Duo brightened up significantly though.
“This is orgasmically awesome,” he decided finally, gulping down the recent miracle. “Maybe it ain’t the most flashy of superpowers, but it sure will come in handy.” More silence. Dorothy shot a pointed look at the brown-haired man, a look that Duo – had it been directed at him – would immediately decipher as ‘He thinks a bottle of hot, sweet caffeine is orgasmic. Don’t you just *ache* to prove him wrong?’, but the man in question lacked required skills. The most he could see was a very affectionate ‘Idiot’.
“Moving on,” Dorothy coughed, “We need a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Yes, a plan. You know? A pre-written sequence of events we intend to accomplish,” the blonde explained, smoothening her skirt on her knees. “We have already established that people believe in Duo right now. Obviously, this is silly.”
“Wait! What is silly!” Duo’s eyes grew wide, brows furrowed. “I detest that remark!”
“I’m not saying you’re silly! I’m just saying you’re a silly material for an altar decoration. Even pretty as you are.” Duo puffed indignantly, trying in vain to hide his bared midriff.
“So, do you have any suggestions?”
“Religion is the obvious thing, or at least the first that comes to mind,” Dorothy said leaning back. “Yes, I remember that Death said something to the contrary. Nevertheless, the fact remains, that most people who believe, believe in some sort of a religion.”
“But it’s a wrong kind of a belief,” Duo protested. “That’s what gramps said, that we need the kind of belief that makes people go ‘yes, of course they exist. I am certain they do!’”
“The problem is, in this day and age, you’d need to provide sufficient scientific evidence, and when you do, there’s nothing left to believe in.” Duo gave the blonde a ‘duh, woman’ look.
“So, we’re back in square one?”
“Pretty much.” A silence fell. Until finally Dorothy sat up straighter in her chair.
“This is a loose idea, but I imagine that things people still believe in, if only a little, are fairy tales. You know, from rags to riches and similar nonsense.”
“Go on,” Duo waved, happily slurping down the rest of his miracle. “I see sense in what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying someone should keep tabs on you, what with the recent miracle development, or you’re going to be on a permanent caffeine high.”
“Now I see no sense in what you’re saying,” Duo pouted. Heero shook his head and snatched the bottle from the other’s hands. “Hey!”
“No more caffeine for you today,” he said evenly, finishing the bottle off. For the rest of the evening he tried to avoid the look of soulful violet eyes boring into his, with a look of utmost heart-wrenching despair. He was faced with a bit of a problem when Duo crawled onto his lap and pouted, his bottom lip trembling. He had Dorothy to thank for not giving in and handing the adorable young descendant of Death his caffeine supply.
“As I was saying,” the blonde woman returned to her thought, throwing the blue-eyed man an amused look, “what we need is a fairy tale material.” Duo paused and turned in Heero’s lap.
“Which would be?”
“Duo. Think fairy tales. Everyone knows fairy tales.”
“I don’t,” he answered, sliding back onto the couch and crossing his arms. “And I strongly suspect Heero doesn’t either.” Silencing any and all feeble protests, Duo continued, “J didn’t strike me as a type to tell kids fairy tales. I suspect he gave Heero a brief history of the universe as a bedtime story.” In the equally brief period of soundlessness that followed, pale blue eyes bore into both pairs of darker ones.
“Fairy tales,” Dorothy began very slowly, punctuating every other word, “usually contain one princess, one prince (or a hero), a dragon, or a similar obstacle to True Love, and a First Kiss.”
“Oh. Where do we get a princess and a dragon? I think I could try and build a dragon. I mean, I remember two, or a hundred, things about mechas and mechanics, I could work something reasonable out. If I could get all the necessary materials that is. I’m pretty sure Howard will be willing to help. Fun! It’s going to be so cool! Of course, it will fly, a flame thrower is a must, and…” Dorothy’s perfectly manicured hand executed a graceful arch and rubbed the woman’s temples.
“Boys and their toys,” she muttered. “Duo. Shut up. A dragon is a metaphor. Please focus.”
“No nifty machinery?” the wide violet orbs shimmered. Heero hid his smirk behind the bottle of espresso.
“No.”
“Damn.” The sulk, as it was usually the case with Duo’s sulks, didn’t last long. Unlike the norm though, it was succeeded by a sombre expression. “What do you propose then? I did a little reading in Death’s library – you know that there’s actually been a similar crisis once?”
“How did it end?” the woman asked curiously, leaning forward ever so slightly.
“With an almost thorough extermination of a nation, which occurred over a little less than a decade,” Duo said grimly. Seeing the shocked expressions, he continued, a little more quietly. “And that time the deficiency of belief was only local. Now, it’s beyond the global scale.”
“Did the book say what made people believe again?” Heero asked, breaking the brief silence.
“From what I’ve gathered it wasn’t anything in particular – the people who did believe were more numerous than those who didn’t. They simply kicked the latter’s ass. Simple.”
“Wouldn’t work now though,” Dorothy said slowly. “Nobody believes anymore. Except in Duo.” She paused. Then furrowed her eyebrows, sending the two men opposite her into a fit of chuckles. “I keep wondering though,” she added after delivering a sound smack to both their heads, “Why do people believe in Duo? I mean – I know he really is a brilliant agent and all, but surely Heero’s stunts must be more spectacular?”
“I think it’s more of the orphan kid from the streets saving the world,” Duo said shrugging. “Sure, I didn’t set my own legs, but there was this deal with me being the only survivor of the Maxwell Church massacre, and my Deathscythe, and the fact that I ‘miraculously’ escaped from an OZ death-cell… Funny that I actually turn out to have a deal with Death,” he mused.
“You think he helped?”
“Oh, no. He can’t,” Duo shook his head and crossed his arms. “I wasn’t supposed to die just yet. I’ve seen my hourglass and there’s still quite a bit of sand left.” Ignoring the obvious questions itching to be spilled from his companions’ lips, Duo leaned against the couch backrest. “Whatever, anyway.”
A silence descended, textured by the usual sounds of late afternoon in a big city and a strange chewing sound. The long-haired man’s brows furrowed. Nothing should be munched on in the apartment, not until he got a piece of it. Taking a good look around he realised neither of his friends was eating anything, which naturally set off the warning alarms in his head. Progressing from there, the man shifted into his stealth mode, soundlessly making his way through the short passage that separated the living room from his bedroom. A gun appeared in his hand almost magically, as he pushed the door open.
Two seconds later, Dorothy and Heero peeked around the corner, quite amazed to notice a black horse, happily munching on a green fern, which occupied a windowsill over the neatly made bed.
“I told you, for fuck’s sake, stay away from my ferns!” …and one furious god of death, waving his arms all around the place.
“Is that…” Dorothy asked in awe. She stepped closer and reached out to run her fingers lightly down the mare’s face. Being an earth-born aristocrat, she was reasonably well versed in horsemanship, enough at least to pause and wonder at the sight of a beautiful animal. “Wow, a Friesian! It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a horse with a topline this well-developed. She is truly magnificent and well kept too. I always liked a horse with feathered feet.” Seeing the blank look Duo and Heero were giving her, she blinked. “What?”
“I just thought she was a pretty horse,” the long-haired man replied, running a hand across Inky’s back. “I don’t see any feathers though,” he added, only a little puzzled.
“Feathers are the hair around her feet,” Dorothy explained patiently, shaking her head. “I thought that since you’ve been given a horse you’d at least research something about them.”
“I thought that saving the world was slightly higher on my ‘To Do’ list presently,” Duo replied, obediently looking down at Inky’s feet.
“Can’t argue with that, I’m afraid,” the woman sighed. Inky happily accepted the three palms stroking her nose. As far as she was concerned, a world where she got fed oats, sugar cubes and was petted regularly was a good world to live in.
“We could try for the U.F.O. sighting,” Duo ventured hesitantly. “Gramps mentioned it when he visited, but said he couldn’t get a hold of them.”
“Are there any aliens out there?”
“Does it matter? At this rate no one’s going to prove there aren’t.”
“It’s not like they could anyway. If aliens are smart, they’ll stay away from Earth.”
“Oh, I don’t know. We have plenty of tasty carbon-based foodstuff here, most of which can provide decent entertainment prior to serving. Pity about the accompanying bacterial flora.” Dorothy smirked.
“How would you prove they exist?” One look into Heero’s eyes, and everyone could tell there was a scheme building up. He may not have been the most sensitive or emphatic creature on Earth, but if you needed something proved, he was your best choice.
“That’s just the thing. We cannot *prove* it. We have to hint… Or something. Anyway, it needs to be obvious and global. And possibly something ought to crop up on the colonies too.” The blonde woman blinked.
“Crop up- Duo, you’re a genius!”
“I am?”
“Of course! Crop circles! That’s the most alien of alien activities! Apart from anal probes, but we’re not going there.” Heero’s expression suggested he would very much like to go there. In specific certain cases. Dorothy contained her giggles. There was a time for matchmaking and there was a time for saving the world, and sadly this was not the former.
“How do you plan on doing them?” Heero asked. “Just the three of us, globally, within a few weeks?”
“Death said time is not important. I think we can walk around it,” Duo pondered. “As for making them, frankly, with your research skills we should have no problems finding a How-To.”
“We could try and kidnap an elf. Elves cause crop circles to happen.” Before he even knew what he was doing, Duo shook his head, then paused to wonder why had he done that.
“No… I think elves are a bad idea,” he said with a note of finality. “Don’t ask why. I don’t have a clue.”
“Well then. In any case, we are all set, yes?” Two open mouths and a shrill ringing of a cell phone was Dorothy’s answer.
“Damn,” Heero cursed accepting the call. “Commander Une.” The remaining two watched with interest as the man bristled at their employer’s first words. “I’m sorry. I cannot. I have prior engagements for the weekend.” He listened some more. “Yes, it is extremely important and I am not her private bodyguard.” The audience snickered. “No, Maxwell isn’t available either. Chang is free. No, I know for a fact he finished that early. Let Relena bother him, he can handle it. Goodbye and I will.”
“Relena’s secure for her upcoming conference then, I take it?” Duo asked with a hint of mischief in his eyes. All three knew Une was just as uncomfortable by the constantly nagging Vice Foreign Minister as Heero was and the only reason she insisted was to get the girl out of her hair for a while.
“She’d better be,” Heero snorted, turning the phone off. “What’s the plan then?”
“We research the crop circles and how to make them,” Dorothy stated with an air of finality. “But first we must change.” A dual cry of dismay met her words. Granted, the cry was partly a whine and partly a grunt, but the general effect was of dismay. “If Death himself said time does not matter, I intend to put some of it to good use. Off to do some shopping, gentlemen!”
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Love Heero's conversation with Une... and the whole clothing/coffee issues!!
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This is much fun. 'Scuse me while I run in circles and fangirl madly.
While water into coffee may not be flashy, I think it will be a heck of a lot more useful talent than seeing portents in your tea leaves. Especially since the braid can pour, too. ;-)
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After a long night/day of saving the world from impending doom, I bet a lot of superheroes wish they were able to have something that doesn't ache pour them a cup of coffee. *grins*