All For the Pleasure [2+H, darkfic, prologue, PG-13]
Posted: Mon Aug 02, 2004 7:09 pm
A/N: I found this lying around my LJ and decided to continue it. Heck, why not? Lu likes it. ^_^ Bear in mind that I am a slow writer...and this has started, um, two months ago, and I've been struggling with part one ever since. If I start to slack (which I tend to do so), send me a hateful IM message and it'll be guaranteed to get me back on track. Oh, and a box of chocolates, too. 
Warnings: This contains a disturbed Duo, hence a darkfic. I've been wanting to write a disturbed Duo for a very long time... *insert evil laugh here*
Disclaimer: Itisn'tminejustdon'tsuemebecauseIdon'thaveanymoneysothere.
?Hear me now,
All crimes should be treasured
If they bring thee pleasure somehow.?
- Cradle of Filth, Cruelty Brought Three Orchids
All For the Pleasure
The blade sliced cleanly through the armor, the shrapnel shattering onto his Gundam, and the low throaty sound of triumph oozed out from the gargantuan suit. It rent the air thick of destruction and heat, shimmering waves of unbearable fire rising up from the carcasses of what had once been mobile dolls. The pilot was breathing hard. The exhilaration of fighting, which released from the crowding confines of his mind a newfound hunger for destruction, made him complete.
He reveled in the heated caress of the battlefield, and then laughed, a laugh that spread through the grounds and reverberated in the air. A laugh that was laced with sorrow, pain, satisfaction, triumph?and remorse. Yes, remorse, most of all. Remorse and guilt for the deaths of his enemies. Odd. Guilt was never supposed to be felt by the God of Death. Strange that it could even be expressed in laughter.
He raised his head and swept his eyes through the ashen field, his lips cracked and dry, his vision blurring. His shoulders ached, his hands clenched around the controls like vises. He slowly released them and felt the circulation ram through his arteries. His heart fluttered in his chest as he stared at his sins, all spread out before him.
He was guilty of murder and mass destruction. But did he really care? Did he really care for those men who he had killed so willingly, so that he could fulfill his lust for the battle? Did he really care for the families that had their beloveds snatched away from them by his own hands? No, he did not. They were just pawns in the game, and he was the master of their lives. He was the God of Death, dammit. He decided what their price for their sins was. And that price was death. And he took pleasure in their deaths.
So why did he feel such pain and sadness at the sight of his sins, when they had been justice served? Why?
His fist slammed onto the controls.
Then his face twisted into a bitter smile as he stared at the horizon, at the dark castle that loomed before his vision. But it was at his pleasure. His pleasure was the only thing that mattered to him. That ache in his veins when he destroyed, that feeling in his mind as he killed. Yes, he had earned that pleasure. Why he earned it, he could not answer. But he had earned it, nonetheless.
He had killed for?
?her.
He froze. Her. Her.
An image flashed before his eyes. Eyes gazed up at him, blue and serious, twinkling and laughing. Strands of blue hair fell into her face as she bent to pick up groceries. She laughed as he commented on something to her, and when he disagreed with her, she immediately went into a temper, her mouth curling into a frown that made her so?
Cute.
His breath whooshed out of his chest as his lungs expanded as he remembered. Remembered that night when she was kidnapped. Remembered when she had been carried away by a Virgo, cradled into the arms of the mobile doll and spirited away. Spirited into the arms of enemy. And he had done nothing, couldn?t have done anything except stare. And then she was gone.
Hilde Schbeiker.
He fought for her, for revenge. It was because he cared for her like he cared for no one else?and they had taken her away from his life. He killed for her, committed sins because of her. Her face, her lips, and her touch. They were but a lingering thought in his mind that strove to resurface?and it drove him mad for the pleasure that she had ignited in him.
The pleasure that only matched that of the battlefield.
He smiled grimly as he watched the small group of Virgos rise and make their way toward him. Their presence beckoned to him.
He was the God of Death, and nothing could change that. He smiled and gripped the controls. He was Duo Maxwell?and nothing was going to stop him from demolishing the dolls and getting Hilde out of there. Only then would he stop killing for the pleasure. Only then.
He grinned, images of Hilde still fresh in his mind. ?I?m coming Hilde,? he murmured.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC
Warnings: This contains a disturbed Duo, hence a darkfic. I've been wanting to write a disturbed Duo for a very long time... *insert evil laugh here*
Disclaimer: Itisn'tminejustdon'tsuemebecauseIdon'thaveanymoneysothere.
?Hear me now,
All crimes should be treasured
If they bring thee pleasure somehow.?
- Cradle of Filth, Cruelty Brought Three Orchids
All For the Pleasure
The blade sliced cleanly through the armor, the shrapnel shattering onto his Gundam, and the low throaty sound of triumph oozed out from the gargantuan suit. It rent the air thick of destruction and heat, shimmering waves of unbearable fire rising up from the carcasses of what had once been mobile dolls. The pilot was breathing hard. The exhilaration of fighting, which released from the crowding confines of his mind a newfound hunger for destruction, made him complete.
He reveled in the heated caress of the battlefield, and then laughed, a laugh that spread through the grounds and reverberated in the air. A laugh that was laced with sorrow, pain, satisfaction, triumph?and remorse. Yes, remorse, most of all. Remorse and guilt for the deaths of his enemies. Odd. Guilt was never supposed to be felt by the God of Death. Strange that it could even be expressed in laughter.
He raised his head and swept his eyes through the ashen field, his lips cracked and dry, his vision blurring. His shoulders ached, his hands clenched around the controls like vises. He slowly released them and felt the circulation ram through his arteries. His heart fluttered in his chest as he stared at his sins, all spread out before him.
He was guilty of murder and mass destruction. But did he really care? Did he really care for those men who he had killed so willingly, so that he could fulfill his lust for the battle? Did he really care for the families that had their beloveds snatched away from them by his own hands? No, he did not. They were just pawns in the game, and he was the master of their lives. He was the God of Death, dammit. He decided what their price for their sins was. And that price was death. And he took pleasure in their deaths.
So why did he feel such pain and sadness at the sight of his sins, when they had been justice served? Why?
His fist slammed onto the controls.
Then his face twisted into a bitter smile as he stared at the horizon, at the dark castle that loomed before his vision. But it was at his pleasure. His pleasure was the only thing that mattered to him. That ache in his veins when he destroyed, that feeling in his mind as he killed. Yes, he had earned that pleasure. Why he earned it, he could not answer. But he had earned it, nonetheless.
He had killed for?
?her.
He froze. Her. Her.
An image flashed before his eyes. Eyes gazed up at him, blue and serious, twinkling and laughing. Strands of blue hair fell into her face as she bent to pick up groceries. She laughed as he commented on something to her, and when he disagreed with her, she immediately went into a temper, her mouth curling into a frown that made her so?
Cute.
His breath whooshed out of his chest as his lungs expanded as he remembered. Remembered that night when she was kidnapped. Remembered when she had been carried away by a Virgo, cradled into the arms of the mobile doll and spirited away. Spirited into the arms of enemy. And he had done nothing, couldn?t have done anything except stare. And then she was gone.
Hilde Schbeiker.
He fought for her, for revenge. It was because he cared for her like he cared for no one else?and they had taken her away from his life. He killed for her, committed sins because of her. Her face, her lips, and her touch. They were but a lingering thought in his mind that strove to resurface?and it drove him mad for the pleasure that she had ignited in him.
The pleasure that only matched that of the battlefield.
He smiled grimly as he watched the small group of Virgos rise and make their way toward him. Their presence beckoned to him.
He was the God of Death, and nothing could change that. He smiled and gripped the controls. He was Duo Maxwell?and nothing was going to stop him from demolishing the dolls and getting Hilde out of there. Only then would he stop killing for the pleasure. Only then.
He grinned, images of Hilde still fresh in his mind. ?I?m coming Hilde,? he murmured.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC
