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~we're in the building where they make us grow
and i'm frightened by the liquid engineers
like you~
The boy sits huddled in his bed, knees drawn to his chest, the trails of tears on his cheeks gleaming palely yellow under the harsh fluorescent lights. A long chestnut braid tied off by a white rubber band curls around his bare feet. Violet eyes stare dazzled at the walls, their pristine whiteness interrupted only by one image repeated hundreds of times, photographs of a young man pasted onto the walls.
As his eyes are occupied, his ears catch the whoosh of the door sliding open. The stunned eyes dart towards the doorway and run over a short, impossibly skinny man in a white lab coat whose thick, bushy hair mushrooms over his sharp features. The scarecrow in white grins at him in approval. "Hi, young man…today's the big day, eh?"
~my mallory heart is sure to fail
i could crawl around the floor just like i'm real
like you~
The boy is afraid to reply; he does not trust the voice that is no longer his. He can only make a tentative smile in return, nothing like his once cheerfully insouciant grin. His facial muscles seem to have changed along with the rest of the muscles in his body; he does not feel able to smile as he usually does.
The doctor senses his uneasiness but makes no attempt to alleviate it. He walks toward the bed, clipboard in one hand and medical bag in the other. The boy on the bed flinches slightly, but forces himself to hold still; the guy in the photos would not be afraid of this small man, and neither will Duo Maxwell.
~the sound of metal i want to be you
i could learn to be a man
like you~
Doctor G crosses the short distance to the bed and places the bag at Duo's feet. The emergent clink of metal instruments and glass vials makes the boy flinch again. He closes his eyes and thinks pull yourself together dammit, you've got a job to do.
The gangly doctor smiles again at Duo's nervousness. "Stand up, boy, let me have a look at you."
Duo does so, and the doctor removes his white johnny and runs a hand over his body, nodding in approval. "Filled out nicely," he says, examining Duo's muscular thighs. The brunet boy forces himself to stare ahead, at the pictures to the right of the large two-way mirror, as G pokes, prods, and caresses his newly hardened muscles. The doctor peers under his chin and about his hairline. "No visible scars, good…" he thinks aloud, making marks on his clipboard.
~plug me in and turn me on
oh everything is moving~
Duo cannot contain a shiver of revulsion as G removes the rubber band from the braid, allowing the coarsened strands to fall apart into a sea of chestnut and thrusting his hands into the hair at his scalp, testing the volume of the thick locks. "Hair's thickened appropriately, I should think, according to the figures I have here," G murmurs. He steps around the taller boy to the vanity, picking up a hairbrush. Duo obligingly turns around, presenting his tresses to the doctor, and the skinny man brushes them straight and smooth and then remakes the trademark braid and cinches it with the rubber band.
G instructs the boy to turn back around for one last inspection. He eyes Duo critically for a moment, clutching his sharp chin in one bony hand. He finally seems to come to a decision and steps to the left. "Take a look for yourself, boy, and see if we've done a good job."
~i need my treatment it's tomorrow they send me
singing "i am an american"
do you?~
Duo does as he is told, stepping closer to the mirror and peering at the alien face. The surgeries and chemicals have broadened his features, giving him a fuller jawline and softer nose; the growth hormones have made him approximately three inches taller, and the steroids have added an extra fifteen pounds of muscle. His hair and eyes aren't right yet; that will be solved later. He steps away from the mirror and examines the images on the wall again, occasionally peeking at his reflection. Finally he turns to G and nods in acquiescence.
G waves his hand dismissively. "You can get dressed now, Duo." Duo does so and returns to his seat on the bed, followed closely by the gangly doctor. G drops his clipboard and opens his bag, rummaging around and extracting a long syringe and a small vial of dark blue liquid. The boy is used to this part of the exam; he extends a muscular arm and clenches his fist. A blue vein, faintly dotted with the tracks of previous injections, pops up at once.
G smiles as he fills the syringe. He takes an alcohol prep packet from his pocket, swabbing Duo's arm with it before he inserts the needle. This time Duo does not flinch but gazes levelly at the doctor. G stares back at him, silent approval in his eyes. "This should take effect at the appropriate time," he tells Duo, almost tenderly. G ruffles the boy's bangs affectionately, eliciting nothing but the same smooth gaze. He smiles again. "Very good, Duo."
G turns to the mirror and makes a gesture. An assistant rushes into the room with a green duffel, handing it to the doctor and rushing back out. G places it on the bed. "Everything else you need is in here. Go ahead and get dressed. I'll come back at midnight and then you'll get into position." The scarecrow walks toward the door. At the last minute he calls over his shoulder, "You do remember everything? The message, the retrieval, everything?"
The boy that was once Duo Maxwell nods silently.
Four a.m. and she was just now leaving. The braided boy with the headset can't believe what he is hearing. They've been in there for hours doing the most disgusting things, and he has been forced to listen to it all. Surely she would have to leave soon, didn't they have a bed check at these places? From his position in a fifth-floor room across the sidewalk, he has a clear view into the target's fourth-floor dorm room but refuses to use it; judging from the noises emitting from the headset, he feels he might lose his nerve if he looks in.
But here was a different noise: the sound of lovers saying their goodbyes, and finally, blessedly, the quiet snick of a door being closed. The brunet boy finally takes advantage of his lookout and sees a blonde girl wearing a heavy coat and disheveled braids sneaking out of the dorm's back door and down the sidewalk. Time to mobilize. He hurriedly throws his equipment into the duffel as he watches the window; he waits until she has gotten into her car and driven away to shoulder the bag and silently leave the room.
The boy with the messy brown hair has just gotten to sleep when the knock sounds, just loud enough to wake him. He rises from the couch, thinking that perhaps Relena has again forgotten some item of underclothing.
Before he can reach the door, it opens to reveal not the pretty young blonde but a young man with a long braid carrying a green duffel, whose husky features are hidden by long chestnut bangs. He is dressed exactly as Heero is, in a green tanktop and black spandex shorts. Heero drops into a fighting crouch as the boy casually walks into the room and closes the door behind him.
"Who are you?" Heero hisses.
The braided boy stands still, his face shrouded in shadow as he delivers the message in his stolen voice. "The Peacecraft girl was forbidden. You were not to become involved. You failed your mission."
Heero straightens in surprise. "Who sent you?"
The boy drops his duffel and raises his head, tossing his bangs back from his face. Violet eyes glint from a face Heero has seen every morning in his own mirror: same heavy brows, same chiseled jawline, same rounded nose. The braided boy's body is the same as well, hard and thickly muscled. Those deep purple eyes are the only difference.
As Heero watches in amazement, a stormcloud seems to creep into the violet orbs; the irises gradually deepen to a steely Prussian blue, as if someone had injected ink into them. The braided boy sees Heero's mouth fall open and knows Doctor G's injection has taken effect, right on schedule.
He smiles Heero Yuy's rusty, unaccustomed smile as he whispers, "I'm your replacement."
Before Heero has time to react, the braided boy leaps forward and slashes at Heero with the small blade he has kept concealed in his palm. Heero stumbles backward, clutching at the gaping hole in his windpipe, unable even to scream. Not that he would; the braided boy has studied him intensively.
Heero watches with his dying breath as the boy uses the same blade to saw at the braid, letting it fall onto the floor next to him.
~all i know is no one dies
i'm still confusing love with need~
Ten minutes later, Heero Yuy peers into the bathroom mirror, tousling his newly chocolate hair to appropriate messiness. Satisfied, he reenters the freshly mopped sitting area, pausing near the sofa to look around. The unnamed body of a teenaged boy lies wrapped in sheets near the door, awaiting the lab technicians who will come soon to take it away for testing.
Acting on an urge he cannot explain, Heero walks over to the body and pulls aside the sheets to look on the dead boy's face. His eyes are still open, but he looks peaceful. Heero envies him.
He leans closer and with his right hand gently lowers the lids as he brushes the dead boy's lips with his briefly. "I promise," he whispers. "I'll finish what you started." He lifts his hand from the boy's face and makes the sign of a cross above it. He does not remember where he learned such a thing. Unsettled, he replaces the wrapping and returns to the couch.
He sinks into the plush sofa and begins reviewing the plans for the rest of the mission, vaguely secure in the knowledge that soon he will remember nothing else.