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31_days2005-08-11 09:45 am
dorkodile.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-08-11 09:45 am
[Aug 10] Gundam Wing; The Different One
Title: The Different One
Day/Theme: Aug 10/Way of Difference
Series: Gundam Wing
Character: Zechs Merquise
Rating: PG
He could remember the first time they put him on a suit. It was a cheap Aries, functional, but unlikely to win in a one-to-one duel. It might, however, stand a chance in one of those fights where the bigger army, the one with more perishable idiots, would win.
The seat was covered with a layer of thin leather, barely offering any comfort for the pilot that was being flung around in the cockpit like a useless piece of rag. Zechs came out of that session a little green, with black and blue bruises of varying shapes and sizes on his skin, especially in areas where his developing elbows and knees stuck out awkwardly in a teenager-way. And a tiny crack in the shades he used to cover his face with.
His peers weren’t that lucky. Or skilled. Judging from the way they retched their bland combat rations of a dinner after the ordeal was over. Zechs certainly hope the food tasted better coming out than it did going in. He couldn’t imagine anything tasting worse than that.
That man stood on a metal bridge, looking over the cadets with a disapproving frown. When his eyes met Zechs’ shaded ones, he smiled. Alas! Finally someone different, somebody with worth, he must have thought.
Milliard returned that smile, and silently counted down to the day that he would put a bullet through that skull.
Day/Theme: Aug 10/Way of Difference
Series: Gundam Wing
Character: Zechs Merquise
Rating: PG
He could remember the first time they put him on a suit. It was a cheap Aries, functional, but unlikely to win in a one-to-one duel. It might, however, stand a chance in one of those fights where the bigger army, the one with more perishable idiots, would win.
The seat was covered with a layer of thin leather, barely offering any comfort for the pilot that was being flung around in the cockpit like a useless piece of rag. Zechs came out of that session a little green, with black and blue bruises of varying shapes and sizes on his skin, especially in areas where his developing elbows and knees stuck out awkwardly in a teenager-way. And a tiny crack in the shades he used to cover his face with.
His peers weren’t that lucky. Or skilled. Judging from the way they retched their bland combat rations of a dinner after the ordeal was over. Zechs certainly hope the food tasted better coming out than it did going in. He couldn’t imagine anything tasting worse than that.
That man stood on a metal bridge, looking over the cadets with a disapproving frown. When his eyes met Zechs’ shaded ones, he smiled. Alas! Finally someone different, somebody with worth, he must have thought.
Milliard returned that smile, and silently counted down to the day that he would put a bullet through that skull.