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"Lasting Impressions"Written By: Dragonmistress_7 Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing Boys.
Lasting Impressions Prologue
He hadn’t known what that meant when he had taken the job, but he’d looked it up as soon as he possibly could. Heero didn’t like not knowing things about his job. Truth be told, he was something of a control freak. So, background information became his top priority. What he had found had been interesting. These allateleions were a rare and special group of Nachi. There was only one born every fifty years or so, and with 3.2 billion babies born each year, that was saying something. They looked almost exactly like other Nachi, but there was a major difference: allateleions had no fixed personalities. Not until adulthood, anyway. They were capable of conforming themselves to fit whomever they were with, the perfect companion. That was why they were so valuable. They were bartered off as the “perfect mate”-- and for once, that claim could be backed up. Heero had found it so fascinating, he had dug deeper. Apparently, the man for whom he was to be responsible had been nearly isolated since early childhood, to keep him innocent. Impression was brought on by a sexual act, and it was very much permanent. While he or she still had free will, an Impressed allateleion would thereafter be the perfect companion, the perfect husband or wife, to whomever he or she had bonded with. Until they were Impressed, they were simply perfect for whoever happened to be closest at the time-- or that was Heero’s understanding of it. All in all, it seemed like the best job he would ever have. He was getting paid an exorbitant amount to spend a month with someone who, according to his research, would be his ideal traveling companion. What could be better? He opened the file on his computer again, and took in the information more slowly this time. His charge was a young male, handsome, if his picture was any indication, with the most outlandish hair Heero had ever seen. Did the boy’s future bride have a hair fetish or something? He read the text beside the picture. Born the second of twins, he had been named Duo. There was no information on his brother other than a name, Solo. Apparently, he hadn’t had “the gift.” Duo was taken from his home when he was eighteen months old and raised in isolation. He was taught many skills and given an education befitting a prince. “Which he’ll lose if his bride likes her men dumb,” thought Heero with a snort. Next came the instructions for dealing with the young man. There were normal things like eating and hygiene, things that made sense, like refraining from touching the Nachi, and avoiding certain topics of conversation. Heero’s eyebrows raised, as they had the first time he had read, because there were some strange things, too, such as a brown paste that he should make certain the boy administered to his skin to keep it the same hue as that of his future in-laws. Heero frowned a bit. They wanted him to look like them? It wasn’t his business, of course, but it seemed a shame. Most Nachi had little iridescent places, tiny rainbow spots spread out at random on their bodies, like someone had blown bubbles at them, and the color had stayed even when the bubbles had popped. Duo, like only two other allateleions in recorded history, had a whole area of the same hue spreading out from his spine across his neck, back, and shoulders. To cover it up seemed like such a waste. But, the Nachi were lovers of coin, not beauty, so any argument would undoubtedly be lost on them. As he packed his bag, Heero kept coming back to the file. There was only one picture of his charge, taken before the administration of the brown paste was begun. His skin was white and smooth and, if Heero remembered right, softer than a human’s. There was a tiny hint of color that could be seen along his neck, and a round spot of dazzling multihued swirls that could be seen peeking out of the top of the plain black tunic Duo was wearing. His features were very human, if a bit delicate, and his eyes were large and blue. Perhaps it was the company, but at that moment, he seemed a bit dim, dull, even, like he was drugged. Heero mentally shrugged and shut down the computer, slipping it into his bag. It was time to go meet the Nachi and get his instructions. Taking a last look around to make sure everything was off and in its place, he closed and locked the door. He checked it, made it almost to the elevator, then went back to check it again. He had just taken out his key to go make sure the stove he hadn’t used in well over a month was off when he realized what was going on. He had a bad feeling. Something big was about to happen. He wished, suddenly, that he had insisted on knowing more of what was happening before agreeing to do this job. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and headed back toward the elevator. “How hard could it be,” he muttered as the door open and he stepped in. There was one other occupant in the elevator. He was
an older, balding man with a gray mustache and beard, and a brightly
colored shirt with palm trees on it. He caught Heero’s words
and smiled a bit. “I’d be careful, if I were you,”
he said, leaning forward casually to press a button. “Those are
famous last words.”
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