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"Iron Fists "Written By: ELLE and Miss Murdered Disclaimer: If Gundam Wing was ours, there'd be ONE damned cannon kiss. All for fun, fun for all! :D Rating: NC 17 Warnings: post EW, physical violence, m/m sexual
relations, cursing, you know – the typical angsty stuff! Pairings: 1x2x1, Summary: In the world of illegal cage fighting there are no rules and only the strongest survive. It is a world that Duo has been undercover in for over a year and when the Preventers fear he may have gone rogue unexpected back up arrives... Author's Notes: Miss Murdered mentioned this little
inkling to ELLE one day and several weeks later after ELLE's desire
to get into a fight peeked, ELLE asked if they might team up and write
some delicious, sexy fight scenes. All Duo's chapters are Miss Murdered's,
all Heero's are ELLE's. Enjoy! "Iron Fists "
6. Heero stared at the selection of weaponry for him to choose from. He didn't really want any fucking weapon. He didn't need it and it made Duo's warning practically worthless. He was a hundred and fifty times more lethal than Wade with his bare hands anyway. With a switchblade, a chain, a whip? Heero didn't even want to try to calculate the odds. The feeling of Duo's fingers around his wrist, even through the fabric of his wrist wraps, left hot impressions on his skin that he tried to ignore. Duo wasn't stupid. He wouldn't have said what he did if he didn't know on some level what Heero intended to do. What Heero had to do. Wade was just the unlucky bastard Kerrigan picked but there was nothing Heero could do about that and if there was anything Duo could've done it was too damned late now. No, Duo wasn't stupid - but he was wrong. Heero selected a pipe and tested the weight of it in his grip. The only thing Wade had on him was reach and although Heero certainly didn't need a two foot steel pipe to make up the distance, that's the weapon he would've chosen had he been paired with a more competent opponent. In a tiny way it rankled that he had to be bracketed down like this and maybe that was part of what made his decision so easy. He didn't have the luxury of dicking around, playing the bracket game. Duo had already tried that, Duo was already out here for over a damned year, if Duo's way worked Heero would be where he should be - watching over Relena's incompetent security staff and waiting patiently for the day Duo would be standing in his apartment when he came home at night. He never quite understood why he wasn't approved for undercover missions - not that he particularly cared, work was work was work and working for Relena gave him an acceptable level of satisfaction - but now he was forced to assume that Une was only keeping him in reserve for when shit really needed to just get done. And now that he was here he could see exactly what the problem was. Duo was too sentimental. Duo cared too much. He'd always cared too much. And while Heero appreciated that about him and realized that sentimentality was probably the only reason he even kept coming back to such a cold, obtuse person like him, he also knew that kindness wasn't doing him any favours here. So he would do what Duo couldn't. And hopefully Duo would understand that he was doing it for him. He stepped into the cage and faced Wade's pathetic, nervous face. Oh, he wasn't trying to look nervous. No. He steeled his expression as best he could but it was nothing compared to Heero's cool, absolutely emotionless stare. Because once he'd shoved Duo from his mind - always Duo, his one fucking weakness - he found he could so easily slip back into that duty-bound solider he'd been for so long. Death was just another part of life and this fight was nothing more than a blip on his radar of shit he had to do to get things back to the way they should be and Wade meant nothing to him. He was just a dumb kid that made some bad choices that were about to catch up with him too fucking quick. Wade had chosen a foot long serrated hunting knife. Not a bad choice when you've got reach, Heero noted with a hint of amusement, but he held it all wrong. He held it like he was going to stab with it, but that wasn't prudent. If he wanted to win, he needed to hold it downward, he needed to use it to tear. It took Heero less than half a second to assess four different ways he could take Wade down with his first move, but Duo had warned him to play it up to the crowd. It wouldn't wound his pride any to let Wade get a hit or two in. He just didn't want to get cut. Even if Duo could understand his reasons, he was going to be seriously pissed at the outcome of this match and sewing your own sutures was a real pain in the ass. So when the buzzer sounded Heero stayed right where he was, an obvious taunt for a nervous opponent, and his fingers flexed around the pipe dangling at his side. He heard the crowd anxiously jeer for someone to make a move as the seconds ticked by, and so Heero raised his other hand and twitched his fingers in a degrading "come hither" motion. He could see that move caused stubborn, masculine pride to override even the heaping and completely justified fear in Wade. And then Wade charged him. Heero was always a bit sadistic but he fought back the urge to laugh. It was like Wade had completely forgotten he was even holding a knife. He moved like he was going to punch Heero in the face but Heero side-stepped easily, shifting the pipe to his left hand and swinging it low and easy into the back of Wade's knees. Wade fell back on the mat gracefully, but only because Heero's initial move contained the finesse to allow him such grace. He stood back and waited for Wade to get up. He knew this was pissing the crowd off. No one really liked to see an opponent so easily bested being toyed with. But Heero didn't care about that. He only cared about Kerrigan and he wanted to prove a point. He was better than this. Wade got up and immediately was heading back in his direction. At least he was holding the knife correctly now, Heero realized with a certain level of satisfaction. Maybe as a consolation prize he'd let Wade get one hit in. Or maybe he'd do Wade a solid and make it so he wouldn't see the final hit coming. He slashed down at Heero but Heero had shifted the pipe back to his right hand and met Wade's too wide stroke with his forearm, effectively stopping the motion. The knife didn't touch him. He smirked when Wade's soft, too damn gentle blue eyes met his but instead of the dismayed expression he expected, Wade's brow furrowed and he ploughed his knee right into Heero's groin. Heero grunted as he stumbled backward and collapsed on his knees, almost losing his grip on the pipe. Even genetic modification couldn't diminish the pain of a brutal, unexpected hit to the groin. The only thing Heero could think in that blinding moment of searing agony was that that was Wade's one hit. No more for him. At least it was a good one. Wade didn't give him a chance to recoup and he rushed him once more with the knife raised. Heero just barely defended, lifting the bar over his head with both hands and the scraping sound of the blade against steel made Heero grit his teeth together even harder. Wade thrashed with the knife once, twice, three times - meeting Heero's hasty defence each time - before Heero finally caught his breath, the pain in his pelvis a mere dull ache, and he threw his body weight forward, tucking his chin down and slamming his head straight into Wade's chest. Despite the fact that Wade's momentum was going forward, Heero had so much more strength and force to his hit he threw Wade into a backwards stagger. Wade's arms circled as he tried to get his balance and catch his breath but it was too late for him. Heero stalked forward after him, threw his arms back wide, pipe held like a baseball bat, and swung full force into Wade's foolishly exposed side. Wade collapsed, knife slipping out of his grasp. He inched himself forward, dragging himself after the knife by his hands, his legs desperately trying to kick out some kind of help but they weren't doing much good considering he had to have suffered several broken ribs and Heero knew from experience that the pain of that injury was fucking excruciating. He was standing over him, just about to deliver his last blow, when the timer signalled the end of the round and he forced himself not to let the pipe connect with his downed opponent anyway. They both retreated to their corners of the cage. Well, Wade was really just carried back by the refs. Heero sucked down water and tentatively repositioned his tender genitals through his spandex. Fuck but that was unpleasant. Wade never indicated he would do anything like that in training. If Heero had known... Well, it didn't matter now. He gave Wade his shot. Game time was over. The brief respite was over in mere moments and Heero was facing a shaky, barely standing Wade. It was too easy, fuck but was it too easy. It really wasn't fair. This dumb kid was only here because he killed a man who would've killed him and he stupidly thought that meant there was nothing good left in him. He just killed one man who likely had a criminal record a mile long and deserved to die and his snow-white conscious told him that made him a bad person now. An outcast. Fit to do nothing but wallow in the dregs of society here in this little corner of hell. Over one man. Heero had killed thousands of men - husbands, fathers, lovers, good men fighting for what they thought was a just cause and even then Heero was able to find salvation in the peace he'd achieved, in Relena's sympathetic forgiveness, in Duo's gentle caress. But then he realized just a bit too late - killing one man might undo him, too. He was already charging forward, swinging his arm back behind his shoulder, pipe gripped tightly, heavy and brutal but light as a feather in his driven sense of purpose. Wade was just another man. Another body. Death was just a part of life. This was just a means to an end. He was making the right choice in terms of the mission. Wade's half-hearted defence would've never been enough to stop that pipe even if his arm had reached high enough to properly try. The sickening crunch of his skull cracking under metal seemed alien to Heero despite its familiarity. It was just never like this before. It never - it never felt before. And in that moment he realized with horrifying clarity - there was no reason for this. There was the mission but the mission - fuck but what was it about this mission that justified this kid's death again? It had been so long since Heero had taken a life. For the first time he regretted ever leaving the bunker. Heero stared in a slow, sick shock as Wade's body slammed into the mat, blood pooling rapidly under his bashed in head. His thoughts backpedalled desperately in his head as he fought to remember just how he ended up here - how he came to the conclusion that this was the only possible end result. He had to kill him, didn't he? He was sent in to do this job, do what Duo couldn't do, so he had to kill him. But then why did he suddenly feel guilty? Duo asked him not to kill this man. Duo asked him not to kill this man but he'd fucking done it anyway. And although he knew logically in his head that he'd spent days formulating this plan, days in the putrid stink of a cesspool of violent humanity considering his options, he couldn't for the life of him remember why. Why it seemed so important. All he could think about was Duo's eyes, all worry and doubt, warning him. "Don't kill him." But he shut Duo out - thinking Duo was weak, Duo was too close to the subject, Duo couldn't do what needed to be done. Maybe there was some truth to that - but Duo still had control of his soul. The deafening screams of the crowd and the PA system announcing his victory seemed very far away despite being only fifteen feet. He watched as Wade's chest somehow still drew laborious breaths and in that shaky moment Heero saw fit to do something that despite all Relena's patient explanations he'd never truly understood before. He prayed. But it wasn't so much a prayer as it was begging. Truly remorseful, wretched, demoralizing fucking begging some superior cosmic force to take away the decision over Wade's life or death. He threw the killing blow but maybe for once he could be wrong and it wouldn't have been enough to kill and he wouldn't have to live with the consequences of his actions this time because he was just a boy. He was just a stupid boy, a boy who didn't know any better, a boy who could never grow up because he never had a childhood - just training and conditioning he could never break. Training that would always draw him back, back to this, back to the fucking folly of his youth. He was just a boy and it wasn't his call to decide who lived and who died anymore. It wasn't his fucking call anymore! He begged the decision be taken out of his bloodstained hands but it was too late. Maybe Duo was right. Maybe Duo knew. Maybe Duo wasn't trying to save Wade at all. Maybe Duo was just trying to save him from himself. Maybe Duo should've never let him out of his goddamned cage. And then everything was moving too fast, way too fucking fast, and Heero was being dragged out of the ring and Wade was examined on the mat, his fingers curling and uncurling pathetically, his chest heaving with those shuddering, arduous breaths. And then Duo was there, hovering over him, all compassion and concern for his wayward charge, his sad little lamb who fell into the den with the lion, the lion that Duo couldn't ever hope to train.
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