[ Prologue - We put the FUN in dysfunctional ]
It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rang out and a woman screamed. And somewhere out there, underneath the blood red sky, a certain beagle with a nose for trouble and beer, a healthy fear for the cat next door, with a sweet if block head, no not Jughead, like master typed the Great American Novel.
But that was neither here nor there, or if to be precise, anywhere. The same could be said for the following string of events to follow. In fact, to clear the air, no not cut the cheese, let's just say it. The account to be following very soon is not really real, really. It is based on no persons living or dead or undead, the events never existed, and dozens of cute cuddly test bunnies were killed off during its conception.
And now for the story.
Boy meets other boy; other boy shoots boy. Boy goes boom, mechas go boom, good guys go boom, bad guys go boom, colony goes boom, Earth almost goes boom. Lots of things go boom. But back to the boy and the other boy. Boy and other boy separate; boy rescues other boy; other boy rescues boy. Eventually, they live happily if rather confusedly ever after, the boy - other boy thing gets confusing after a while. In the course of their relationship, other boys and men fall in love, lots of pink is used, the Earth and colonies make nice nice with each other, and women kick some damned fine ass. But really its a story of boy meets other boy. Really.
Now the boy and other boy from this story will be used in the following story. There really is no connection between the two stories, other than the boys. Everyone get that?
Now, to begin the story that was interrupted by the shot ringing out in the dead of night, not to mention the woman screaming and the totally unnecessary two or so paragraphs following it which, like this very paragraph, leads nowhere except perhaps to the Tomb of Confusion - no, not Confucius, though some may argue the two are one in results if not in intent- a mansion rested on a cliff. A cellar lay within the mysterious mansion which rested on a high cliff. Two coffins lay within the dark cellar which was within the mysterious, foreboding mansion which rested on a high and craggy cliff. A multitude of servants surrounded the two ancient looking coffins which lay within the damp, dark cellar which was within the mysterious, foreboding, just plain creepy mansion which rested on a high, craggy, and dangerous cliff. One of the coffins began to open right before the story began running scarce of adjectives. It was an elaborately carved affair, the coffin as opposed to the story which is not an affair - yet, complete with cherubs, vines, and other cutesy nonsense which Disney did not own just yet. The multitude of teeming servants cowered back in fear as the cover of the white marble coffin finally opened. Out popped, or rather sitting upright popped, a smiling blonde holding a teacup in one hand and a saucer in another. A servant quickly served up a boiling cup of... something, which the blonde - still with that unnervingly calm smile on his young face - took an appreciative whiff of before sipping delicately at its contents.
The servants were crouched anxiously by the other as of yet unopened coffin.
They all seemed to be anticipating something, even the blonde with his vague look of amusement and indifference.
The other coffin - made of a gleaming metal with no obvious corners or edges - suddenly exploded in a cloud of dust, grit, and shrapnel. Several servants fell to the floor, dead, while others scuttled off for the dubious safety of the corners of the cellar. The blonde watched this all with a faint expression of resignation on his face. He took another sip of tea before addressing the figure that emerged, seated midst all the destruction. "Do you really have to weld your way into the coffin every night?"
The other boy, a sparkle of manic glee which could almost be mistaken for excitement in a normal person which he was most definitely not so it wasn't excitement but manic glee lighting his dark blue eyes, grunted in response. He casually began removing scraps of metal from his hair, clothes, flesh. . . The tousle headed boy, unconcernedly picking a piece out of his head and ignoring the spouting of fresh blood it caused, replied, "I have never had anyone break into my coffin." He concluded this flat statement with an almost sneer, the sneer dying mid way as he noticed another piece of metal right below his shoulderblades in a place he couldn't reach. Damn. He hated when that happened.
The blonde boy twitched slightly, tea in hand remaining steady. "Oh. Are we going to go through that again?" The sweetness in tone belied the sudden trembling of the servants as they anticipated another hissy fit.
The dark haired boy's eyebrow raised slightly, hands still fruitlessly trying to pull that cursed bit of metal out. . . He hated it when this happened. "You have your quirks. I have mine. I like being completely safe. I like blowing things up."
His teacup wielding companion sighed, giving up for now. "Even if it means blowing yourself up?"
"That's what makes it more fun."
The blonde boy resignedly stood, distastefully brushing away some of the dust that had settled on him. "And what about our Semi Immortal servants? We only have 41." Frowning, he noticed that his teacup was empty and hadn't been promptly refilled. He casually broke that particular servant's neck, noting approvingly that another servant quickly caught the teapot and refilled his teacup. "40."
"And will you stop your incessant grunting? You've been watching too many of those idiotic macho man movies."
"Don't you dare!"
". . . nnnnnN." Still seated, the dark haired boy deliberately enunciated that "n" if one can indeed clearly enunciate a consonant, he was the one to do it.
" . . . There are days when I can't believe we're siblings
"Mom always felt the same way about us." As an afterthought he added, almost casually, "She always liked me best, you know."
"How dare you!!" A half strangled scream followed a series of sniveling sniffs and the tinkling of a teacup shattering. "Don't you dare bring our parents into this! They only liked you better because you insisted on wearing that silly spandex of yours" Despite the bravado with which this was said, the blonde boy's lower lip began to tremble as he reached for a teacup that wasn't there to bring up to his lips. When he finally noticed the fine porcelain lying in a good million -forgive the hyperbole but it was a MESS- pieces on the floor, he finally broke down with a wail. "Not Pookie!"
"Hn." The rather messy hair boy stood victorious over his sobbing sibling, he flashed a surreptitious V sign toward the understandably nervous servants. He had made his brother drop his teacup. It was indeed a fortuitous beginning to a lovely day - er, night. Leaving his blonde brother throwing a temper tantrum on the floor, he quickly shifted forms, turning into a bat with his distinctive sense of... style, a bat with a mini pair of black spandex shorts on. It quickly flew up and out the mansion, seeking its prey.
The narrator would like to point out that the events are told as they are or rather would be if they were real events, which they are most assuredly not. Perhaps. In other words - I don't explain 'em, I jist write 'em.
[ Part 1 - Gotta Catch 'em All ]
He was worried.
Mind you, not the worry that comes with going to class unprepared for a test with a stomach full of butterflies, a dry cottony feel in the mouth, and a mild headache from worrying and trying to assuage the worry with too many nice creamy chocos.
No, this worry was more a cross between the anxiety that one's pants aren't properly zipped and not really having the option to check if they are indeed zipped or not, no mirrors being available to give oneself the quick once over, or even a handy dandy restroom to zip into, and the worry that somewhere, out there, be it cyber space, closet space *coughs*, drawer space or under the bed space - someone was out to get you.
In other words, Duo was worried, only he had forgotten precisely what he was worried about due to the utter absorption in which he rhapsodized on his emotional state of worri-ness.
It didn't help his concentration any that a raven had landed by his windowsill just whilst the braided boy attempted to worry, or rather remember what he was worrying about before he had fallen into too rapt a fascination with the various levels of worry, what level he was on, and how many flunkies he had to deal with before he had to get to the Boss level to reach another level of worry.
But the raven was distracting. Yes indeedy it was all the raven's fault.
It had flown onto his open window sill, Duo preferred sitting next to the window in class - in case of emergencies, involving electricity, water, and potatoes - one needs lungfuls of clean air to worry without worrying about suffocating or dizzy spells you know, and was reciting in an English accent, "All aardvarks are actually airborne anchovies acting airheaded and above all acting as articulate as an Acrobates."
Yup, the raven was definitely distracting.
On the other hand, he remembered now what the raven had been distracting him from, his worries, and the cause of his worries was right before his eyes. In response, the American boy's braid twitched.
If Duo wasn't so worried, he'd laugh. Or cry. Or -
"Bibbity bobbity boo bellows Bob, beaming beatifically."
. . . turn that raven into a nice, steaming chunky pot pie complete with black feather woven napkins. Glaring at the raven, Duo casually hurled a random flapping trout at the raven. The raven neatly stepped out of range and almost sneered at the boy, almost because it couldn't quite manage the sneer without a nose no matter how talented an avian it was. Then it flew off to wherever alliterating ravens fly off to: to take tea with Edgar Allen Poe o' course.
His worry . . . It was horrific; it was hideous; it was. . . Trowa. The green eyed boy had arrived at school late, and the change that had been wrought on him was startling to say the least.
His friend's bang had shifted to the left.
The right side of his face was a shade paler, giving a rather odd phantom of the opera impression.
It was strange.
It was eerie.
It was.... S.C.A.R.Y.
Suspicious Creepy Agitating Rattling Yip inducing
S.C.A.R.Y in a way that rabid squirrels, voltron in 3d, and bunnicula had failed to be.
So Duo sat for the rest of class, staring at his taller friend with a rather glazed expression on his face, part of the glazed look could be due to the monotonous drivel which the teacher threw before the class like last week's upchucked mystery meat special served in the cafeteria on every other Thursday but it was mostly due to the Bang Phenomenon TM.
Eventually, school ended for the day and the mystified and fascinated in a way one is unable to look away from a 10 car pile up involving a chicken truck, a blood and organ collection on wheels, and a clown car sort of way - boy invited Trowa over to his house, hoping to examine the bang from up close.
Then the day took a decided turn for the stranger, something Duo would have thought impossible after this morning's events had unfolded but every day is a new adventure and we should all look forward to enjoying every moment as it approaches and beats everyone who does not approach the day in that way senseless with a pair of spandex shorts stuffed with gundam shaped penguins.
At any rate, the two were crossing the street when a car screeched around the corner and attempted to do what armies, guns, and randomly exploded missiles had failed to do - namely, turn two gundam piloting boys into roadkill.
Suddenly a girl appeared from NoWhere (Help us Bastian..... nowhere, not NOTHING. oops.) and shoved the two boys out of the way, getting rather messily run over in the process with a squick. Horrified, Duo ran over to the girl, who only managed to gasp out her name, "Mary Sue, " before dying. Her corpse exploded in a profusion of paper confetti.
Too bad though, she was an eye catcher and one could tell by just looking into those large luminous though startlingly intelligent and witty eyes that she would be the perfect soul mate for the lucky man who could catch her. She would be loving, caring, humorous, and yet still be able to kick ass with the best of them.
Duo sighed and wiped off a tear that had appeared out of NoWhere to slide down his face; she would always hold a special place in his heart for all of the 5 seconds the braided boy had known her.
As the teen walked over to his friend's side, Duo had yet another shock. Trowa, his friend, his incredibly quiet but flamboyantly flexible and athletic friend had landed awkwardly from the heave ho Mary Sue had given him.
It could only mean one thing.
The source of all Trowa's athletic ability, indeed the source for all of his power, was in his bang, or rather in the position of his bang. Unbidden, the image of a vertical on and off switch came on mind, on and off, right and left.
It made sense, in a bizarre, twisted, Citizen Kane meets Evangelion with Gendo Ikari screaming Rosebud way it made sense.
Then again Duo -could- be suffering from shock so lying his braid on the floor and running a high powered industrial level vacuum sucker over it could possibly have made sense to him as well.
With his taller friend trailing behind him, the poor boy slowly made his way home, only getting about halfway there before a safe fell from the sky. Duo could only gape up at the increasingly large shadow that would squish him with a squicky sort of sound if he didn't scramble out of the way fast enough. Unfortunately, as per anime/cartoon law, a falling safe or any other large falling objects: boulders, planes, hippos in tutus, etc., automatically paralyzed anything under them.
It was how they hunted.
But again, in the nick of time, a girl came hurtling out of nowhere (yes where. . . ), shoving the two boys out of the way and getting pretty damned squicked in the process. Feeling rather like an actor in a movie to which he had no script, a singer who knew not the song, a shonen character stuck in a shoujo series, a screwball stuck in a family of oddballs, or Wufei in an ERA convention, Duo quickly made his way back to the safe.
If he had his law of all thing animated correctly...
The American boy quickly opened the safe, jimmying the lock and unable to suppress a small smirk of success despite the severity of the situation.
The raven . . .
The door popped open and the girl that had rescued them from death by squicking rose up and down accordion style within the metal death box, wheezing out her name - Marianne Suzanne - before expiring with a sound much like a souffle sounding its death knell and succumbing to gravity. And again the somewhat ruffled corpse exploded in a hurricane of paper confetti.
Duo found himself speechless for the fourth time today, though a part of him, about 26.3% due to variations at higher altitudes adjust accordingly, couldn't help but note that the girl had wheezed in a most attractive manner. The way she had folded and unfolded accordion style . . . he was sure no one could have done it better.
He would always remember her. She had forever changed his life; never would he look at accordions in the same way.
The two bishounen made their way home without further incident; Trowa still . . . staring off into space, though a different space than yesterday's space because of the different space his bang occupied. Duo was spacy for a different reason; the filet of sole's reason for his spaciness was right before him - his friend. Though he had to admit those random acts of violence told him something fishy was going on and it wasn't due entirely to the stinky puns.
Ever since they had gone to a tea convention for a school project, about a week ago . . . Duo had lost track of his friend for a few minutes, not realizing then that a few minutes was all it took (smirk) for certain events which will be unfolded to the reader to unfold. A few not so enthusiastically samplings of some green tea and gorging himself on the sweets that came with the tea moments later, Duo had reunited with Trowa. That's when the blank eyed stare had become a part of Trowa's wardrobe, along with the sexy clinging jeans and the oh so spartan yet consistently fashionable turtleneck, order yours today
The braided boy sighed and herded his friend into the living room. What to do, what to do. . .
"Consult a cranky crimson capped classy classmate."
"Huh?, " was the hugely intelligent yet coherent and concise reply. "Oooooh, you mean, Wufei, the child genius guy in our class who just happens to major in paranormal, supernatural, otherworldly, and just plain freaky incidents? Good idea!"
" . . . Dolt."
"What was that??"
He had found him, the other, the one who held the key, the one who was master of . . .
the three rarest pokemon cards in the known world.
Heero -had- to have them; he only needed those last three to complete his collection, a mission which had remained unfulfilled for centuries until now. The classification for the pokemon were XXX - an unknown type - the psychotic spandex wearing bat didn't even know for sure what it is they did or even what their names and abilities were. He just knew that he had to have those three.
He was so close he could taste it. Now if only that irritating wedge of metal still embedded right below his shoulder blades could be removed. . .
With a squeak, the bat transformed, within a swirl of gun powder scented grey smoke, into a slender boy wearing spandex shorts. Above the spandex, he wore a crisp white, only slightly smoky at the edges, nicely tailored tux shirt and over the entire ensemble - a black cape inlined with red satin. A breeze, huffing a little since it had almost missed its cue, blew ju~st right so that the cloak swirled dramatically around the slim figure. Unfortunately, the breeze's friends decided to come play at that moment, not knowing that their friend was working just then, and all the breezes tumbled together uncontrollably. The cloak, no longer swirling dramatically but rather violently, wrapped itself tightly around the half spandex clad, half tux clad, all bishounen vamp.
Too bad for his balance though, the cloak was too bulky and down low low low sweet chariot coming for to carry me home, swing lo~w, sweet chariot. . .
But there was no chariot to carry him home or to catch Heero from his fall, his lo~ng fall since the boy had chosen to stand upon a very tall building for the breeze to come and do its work.
Thankfully a girl had dived right onto the spot where Heero landed, cushioning his free fall with her own perfectly proportioned body. Unthankfully for her, the piece of gundamanium coffin still stuck in Heero's back, a discomfort he had trained himself out of feeling mainly because it happened so frequently the boy couldn't help -but- get used to the pain and sometimes enjoyed the pain but that's a different genre of fic all together, decided to dislodge at the precise moment of contact and pierced the girl's stomach, entrails and all.
Death by disembowelment - not a pretty sight, but somehow she managed to look engaging doing so.
The still cloaked bat boy managed to free himself from the twists and ties of the garment, firmly noting to himself to go streamlined and nudged the body who croaked in a smooth, perfectly modulated and pleasant to the ears tone, "Marie Suzie", before going boom in a swirl of paper confetti.
At the last shuddering breath exhaled from the delicately parted though slightly bloody and more than a bit squicked lips, Heero felt the urge to fall to his knees, throw his hands up imploringly to the uncaring sky, and howl at the senselessness at it all, cursing the fates which had allowed such a sweet, innocent, yet knowledgeable and clever girl like Marie Suzie to depart this Earth in such a horrific, trampoline like squicked manner.
Never mind that it was his insistence in sealing shut his coffins at sunup and blowing them to smithereens at sundown that had led to her demise.
Satisfied with the full range of grief and rage only he could express with a single syllable, the cloaked boy made his flowing way towards the house where his destiny as a pokemon collector waited.
[ Part 2: Enter the Wu ]
Ah a fic they cried
Too soon too fast why us wah~
They swooned she grinned *grin*
It all started with a look, a touch, and a kiss.
Or so most stories would go. But since this story is not anything like most stories and has hardly gone somewhere worth relating (and technically the story started with a crappy haiku . . . ), looking, touching, and kissing were unnarrated for the moment, to run rampant amongst free ranging fics.
So the fic began like this actually.
It all started with a pokemon card, or rather 3 pokemon cards.
Again, all well and good if this story was a pokemon story but alas those adorable evolutionizing enough to make Charles Darwin spin in his grave critters were not present.
What the story did have is the boy and the other boy. But that had already been established.
It also had a bi-laterally inclined bang boy. He swings both ways. Again, established.
It had a boy and his teacup. But, no, the teacup had been broken.
It had a Vampire Slayer. But that was a secret.
It had a Watcher, a guardian and teacher to the slayer. And his identity was no secret, Chang Wufei - classmate of a certain other boy.
So let's start over with the Watcher, the hidden Vampire Slayer, and the three pokemon cards despite the eyebrow stirring lack of pokemon.
And thus the fic began.
Duo dexterously, defying all denominations of diddly squat, determined decidedly to
Not squeak like a little girl, loudly and in ear shattering shrieks of increasing noise and length.
However an 'eep' of distress did escape the decidedly disturbed denim - derriered dare doer.
Trowa had grown fangs. Not just fangs which were wax teeth making people go ha ha and roll their eyes in exasperation followed by various attempts to change the subject, no, these were the genuine things. Sharp, saliva coated, shiny, and simply well…
Mainly because they were unerringly aimed at his unprotected, vulnerable, and otherwise bare throat where a vein of blood throbbed thick with nutrient, iron, and all the things you can get from drinking Yoo Hoo, despite Duo's attempts to tell it to run and hide.
Veins were funny that way.
Again, not funny like the wax teeth were funny, or even the idea of a Brazilian Wax for men was.
This was more the funny as the expectant audience waited for the invariable ax, knife, razor, chainsaw, bullet, any sharp pointy object of various sizes able to make a sizable hole in human flesh with lots of gushing blood to imbed itself in the writhing forms on the bed/sofa/car/bench/floor/park/shower.
In fact, this vein was quite prepared to defend itself. It would not simply run or try to at any rate - lacking feet and legs made this quite a challenge. No, it would defend the honor of the vein. An honor which had much been besmirched and besmeared by ever leering lycanthrope, voracious vampire, zonked out zombie, and other oddities that went bump and grind in the night. No, this vein would show the world how brave and truly honorable veins were, despite lack of weapons, defenses, strategies, common sense, and all that other inconsequential stuff which weighed so heavily on the brain.
Which the vein distinctly lacked.
Honor was funny like veins that way. (Not dissimilar to Brazilian Bikini Waxes actually. Excruciating, has a minor following, very much talked about, and preferably doped on painkillers before hand. But it does leave an intriguing effect on the lower half.) For without veins, honor, and Brazilian Bikini Waxes, where would Wufei be?
And having lost that particular vein, not to be mistaken with Duo's vein, let us stroll back to the original vein, Duo's vein of thought.
But no, there was Wufei, standing on Duo's vein of thought with comfortable black ballet slipper type shoes. Suitably suited up in sexy suede, swinging swords, and a searing soul of steel.
And of course veins, honor, and Brazilian Bikini Wax in attendance as well.
"Umm… you just hit my best friend upside the head with a trout wrapped in stockings."
"It worked, did it not?"
"Yeah but… trout? Stockings?"
"Do not question my ways, for they come from centuries and centuries of tradition steeped in tea! Besides, fish is good for your head!"
"They had nylon back then?"
"Don't be ridiculous. These stockings are made from silk, which everyone knows originated in Asia!"
"Oh… So… you do this a lot?" A dazed Duo gestured vaguely. "Crash in through the window, knock a person's best friend who suddenly turned fanged silly with a silk clad trout?"
"Well, if you put it that way. Yes."
"Oh, well then, care to explain what's going on?"
Wordlessly, despite Duo's specific request for words, Wufei turned the lying and not about to gain consciousness soon Trowa over. He flipped the bang upwards, exposing a bit mark on the forehead.
Duo blinked. "Why the forehead?"
Wufei shot him a superior look full of lead. "Everyone knows that's where the brain is."
The savior turned annoyingly superior peer grudgingly expostulated on the subject, "Vampires wishing to control their victims' minds always go after the forehead."
"That is too strange… So what if they go for the throat?"
"Don't even go there, Maxwell. Though if you truly wish to know - your life."
Wufei smirked slightly, amusement shining bright in his dark eyes and sparkly forehead. "He's trying to -kill- you."
"You have no idea."
On yet another skyscraper, opposite from where our spandex tuxed Heero vamp had so ignominiously been tumbled by frolicking winds, his vampiric brother tempted fate by striking a pose against the skyline.
"Ah me, to be cursed with such a brother and lacking the means to his downfall, " mused the blonde one, unaware of his little pun. A small frown crossed his pale features as he struggled to remember why he had come out here in the first place. He blanked out like that a lot. Father had once told him it was because Heero dropped him on the head as a baby - over an open volcano, over a cliff, in the way of an oncoming train, etc.
Father made the funniest jokes…
"Trowa!" He clapped small hands in delight, causing half the lights in the city to go out. With a disdainful sniff from one aristocratic nose, he clapped once more. The light came back on.
"Now let's look for Trowa, Trowa, Trowa~!" Happily and giggling in a mildly disturbing manner, the young vampire pulled out a huge magnifying glass. He placed one to his eye and began chanting in a sing song manner, "I see Bobby - type AB. I see Joey with Bobby *giggle*, naughty Joey! I see Nat; I see Jimmy; I see Lyon, naughty Joey, Nat, and Lyon!" If one would pause to contemplate why Quatre's little magnifying glass was picking out only the most hentai of actions, well… one would be pausing for a very long time. Let it simply be put that the magnifying glass was tuned to pick out Quatre's victims, and Quatre was very particular about said victims, mainly their *ecchi* quality.
Which made picking Trowa an absolutely understandable choice, ne?
"… see Tom, Dick, and Harry - naughty James, Michael, Ritchie, Anthony, Ken, George, Tom, Dick, and Harry! And I see Trowa!"
Quatre tucked away the glass, supremely unaware that there was now a pronounced black ring around his eye from where it had come in contact with the glass.
Somewhere, Heero smirked.
"Trowa, wait for me, I'm coming!" Here the little blonde paused to let out another obnoxious, definitely sanity challenged laugh. "Well… soon at any rate!" With that horrendous pun, Quatre hopped, yes hopped, across the top of the buildings to his goal aka Duo's house where Wufei and Duo and Trowa resided and coincidentally where Heero was also headed.
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