Three

Disclaimer: Shin Kidousenki New Mobile War Chronicle Gundam Wing and all affiliated characters are property of Bandai, Setsu Agency

Disclaimer: Shin Kidousenki New Mobile War Chronicle Gundam Wing and all affiliated characters are property of Bandai, Setsu Agency. Likewise, X-Men and its characters are owned by Marvel Comics. I’m not taking any credit for these guys, and I’m certainly not making a profit off of this. It’s actually costing me money…
Title: Three
Chapter: III—Gambit
Author: Switchblade003
Pairing(s): I’ll figure ‘em out later.
Warning(s): Overtly religious tones ("In a Switchblade fic??" Lol…); may offend


some readers, and if it does don’t read it! Slight Wufei-bastardization, but it gets made
up in the next chapter.


Rating: NC-17 for violence, adult themes, language, etc.
Archive: www.wuffie.net, hopefully my own site if I can get it up and running—
www.geocities.com/Superfuturesque_sound/
Notes: This chapter is cool, I think. Oh, and this is a plea for help: I need illustrations for my ficcies! If you would like to draw pics for any of my stories, I’d appreciate t (I can’t draw). Just e-mail me at LgclPrgrsn@aol.com, or IM me. Thanks!
Review Raves: Yay! People read my stories!!
ShenLong: I’m really happy that you like this one. It’s one of my favorites!
Takaro: Lmfao. You really crack me up, you know that? And you’re right; I do have ‘regulars,’ don’t I?? Glad you like it!
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It didn’t take long for Duo to make his way back to the station, and once the young man was locked securely in the relative sanctuary of bunkbunk, he gave into the bitter laughter he’d withheld at the hospital. The American threw an arm across closed violet eyes. "Well, you’ve got to hand it to the guy, Maxwell," he sighed, lifting his arm to glare at the angry, jagged scars which marred the smooth skin of his forearm. "At least he had the guts to carry through with it. You, on the other hand…"
The youth left the accusation hanging in the air, slamming his fists against the thin mattress in frustration, rolling onto his stomach restlessly. Maybe he could fall asleep with his face stuffed into his pillow and suffocate? No, he’d always had the damnedest luck. Duo shifted onto his side lazily and held his hand out over the edge of the bunk, smiling as he focused on channeling his internal energy to manifest itself into a rectangular shape in his hand which resembled a standard playing card, and he flung the crimson, plasma-like object into the air, shooting it down with a second ‘card,’ his eyes flashing a dark red as he did. The braided boy grinned wryly.
Trowa may have gotten the psychic abilities, but he got the nifty weaponry.
Duo had had his inherent talent of channeling, shaping, and wielding energy for as long as he could remember. It had come to him as naturally as walking and talking had. Trowa had discovered his odd gifts as a child, as well. The quiet young man could read thoughts at random intervals, sometimes even holding conversations with Duo entirely in their heads. The most remarkable aspect of the older paramedic was his ability to change physical forms. Trowa could, at will, transform himself into a massive, snowy-white tiger, stripes and all. In fact, the first time that he’d done it they had been kids, and the sight of the creature—it had taken the form of a cub at the time—had scared Duo so badly that the American had avoided his friend for nearly a week. Trowa himself hadn’t known quite what to make of it, but they had decided to keep it a secret.
No one knew about Duo’s seemingly superhuman abilities, or Trowa’s, but that didn’t change the fact that the braided boy was utterly miserable with what he was. It scared the hell out of him, the idea of someone finding out. He had once known a boy with ‘powers’ back in high school, and he’d gotten caught. The memory of what had happened to him sent a chill down Duo’s spine. His abilities were certainly no ‘gift;’ they were a cruse, and a damnable one, at that. Trowa seemed comfortable enough with his own powers… But then again, the youth never spoke of them.
Duo bolted up in bed. He needed to get out, walk around, something…
Snagging his trench coat from the end of the bunk, the violet-eyed young man trudged out of the station, braid trailing warily behind him as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and made his way out onto the sidewalks of the Old Towne district of New York City. It was almost December, and the stores were brimming with customers searching valiantly for the perfects gifts forir fir friends and family.
Christmas.
A smile finally tugging at the American’s lips, Duo headed down the crowded sidewalks towards the core of the merry chaos. He hadn’t thought about shopping, yet. He didn’t have many people to worry about: really only Trowa Catherine, and the guys at the station. But He’d always loved the unadulterated curiosity on his best friend’s face as he snooped and prowled under the base of the tree on Christmas morning, trying futilely to decipher the contents of the boxes upon which Duo had scrawled his name in black Sharpie marker. That alone was definitely wroth the hustle and bustle of the commercial holiday season.
With a much more jovial mood dominating the brunette’s mind, Duo gazed about as he walked, squinting through the tasteful glare of Christmas lights, around the decorative wreaths and at the store windows, absently mulling over his options. The cool night air whipped through the trees, blowing fallen leaves around the feet of the pedestrians, bringing the distant melodies of carolers to the youth’s ears, and as he reached up a gloved hand to brush stubborn chestnut-brown bangs from his eyes he collided with something that had been moving at a rapid velocity.
Duo found himself flat on his ass on the ground from the force of impact, and he winced, looking over at the person who had so carelessly run him down, but the curse that he had planned died in his throat. A foot away from him, crouched low as he examined the scrapes on his palm, a young man no older than himself looked up with fierce obsidian eyes, and the raw energy that flashed shockingly blue through them startled Duo. The oriental youth stood gracefully to his full height, and—not bothering with apologies—stalked briskly off in the direction that the medic had come from.
The violet-eyed male scoffed, his almost flawless balance allowing him to get to his feet, and he brushed debris from his coat, craning his head over his shoulder to ensure that the large white cross sewn to the back had been spared significant damage. I wonder why my kick-boxing reflexes didn’t kick in, he frowned. I guess I should practice more often… He gazed briefly after the boy. "Jerk," he muttered before continuing tos his his destination. It was grinches like that guy that took all of the fun out of the holiday season, Duo thought absently.
A nagging voice in the back of the American’s mind reminded him of that spark of power in those ice-cold onyx eyes, but he shook it off. He had more pleasant things to worry about.
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TBC.