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"Hellfire"Written By: Keiran
Genre: Supernatural Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others Warnings: mildly religious stuff. Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is strictly for entertainment purposes. Archive: FF.net, Gundam Wing Diaries. For the
record, I have an “Ask and you shall receive” policy. Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn’t follow it closely, or at all really. Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong, for betaing!
" Hellfire"
“Mr Maxwell, I’m just asking for a minute of your time.” A very official looking badge shone briefly in the crack of the door. “Oh, I’m sorry, officer. I was being rude.” The door opened a notch. Heero opened his mouth and breathed in. “Fuck off, *detective*.” The door slammed shut. Heero’s hand fell to his side. He could see this one was not going to be easy. Then again, he always got the tough ones. The door only lasted for two kicks anyway – it’s not like Maxwell was really trying to keep people out. “Sorry, sir. It will only take a minute.” Without the barrier of the door the reluctant host looked almost frail. Heero blinked in surprise. He knew for a fact that the man was well into his twenties, close to thirty in fact, but he was willing to bet he still needed his licence whenever he wanted a beer. “Is this the new policy? Break the door down? Am I a suspect? Cause I don’t recall being read my rights. Get the fuck out, before I call the real cops.” If Heero was to judge his age by the sneer on his face, he’d have to consider hundreds as an option. “I am a real cop,” he said, showing his badge again. “I just need to ask a couple of questions.” He wouldn’t have come, he knew he shouldn’t have. But several of the most recent arrests ended up weird, beyond weird. One of them mentioned the name “Maxwell”. “She’s blaming you,” Maxwell said quietly, his face losing the hostile _expression. “You don’t need me to tell you that. She’s not hostile though, she just doesn’t want you to forget.” “What?” Heero stepped back, despite himself. It struck a cord, as much as he hated the idea. “Oh? Is that not why you came here?” “Who’s blaming me? I don’t recall any of my friends mentioning you,” he asked, a tad stiffly. “You wouldn’t.” A bitter smile twisted Maxwell’s lips, before he looked the police officer in the eye again. “A girl, maybe eight – or six. I’m not quite sure. White dress with ruffles. Reddish hair, brown eyes, butterfly hairpins.” Heero pressed his back against the closed door. Maxwell looked at him humourlessly. His eyes were impossibly violet. “Hostage situation, huh? Can’t say I blame you. The need of the many and other shit.” He ignored the shock in the cop’s eyes and went on. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. She seems a neutral spirit, a protective one even. Sorry. Learn to live with it.” A gun was cocked. “What the fuck are you saying?” Heero asked very quietly, his pistol pointing straight between the creepy violet eyes. “Just what the fuck is wrong with you?” “Isn’t that why you came, detective?” Honest surprise. “My apologies. What is it then, I have an outstanding ticket?” The gun didn’t waiver. If there was one thing Heero truly knew, it was how to keep his motor functions separate from his mind’s state. “I see. I apologise. I got one too many visits from grieving relatives. I got testy. What was it that you wanted?” “I…” He hardly knew anymore. He’d come here to get information, a link. When the name was spoken aloud, he knew he’d heard others murmur it before, others he’d met in very unusual situations. He would speculate that it might have been those violet eyes rendering the man so memorable, but obviously there was more. He holstered the gun. “I need information.” “Boy, am I surprised.” Heero found the eye-roll oddly endearing. “We’ve had odd cases recently. People disappearing from their cells, autopsies revealing fresh corpses to be months dead. One of the inmates mentioned your name. His name was – Sebastian Moore. He went by ‘Solo’ though,” the officer added as an afterthought. Maxwell looked at him speculatively. “Solo mentioned me? Well, fuck.” He ruffled his bangs. Heero was surprised to notice the coppery braid swinging behind his back. “Come on in then. Have a seat. Helping police, I didn’t think I could fall quite this low.” “No offence, but your apartment does not resemble a den of the underworld.” “I should hope not. Sulphur really isn’t my thing.” “What?” “Solo mentioned my name and yet you know nothing. Fuck the bastard.” Again with that measuring stare. “He really must have a grudge against you, to send you to me.” “I put him away.” “Whatever. Crash course then.” He hesitated briefly. “Are there any strong religious feelings I should be worried about offending?” Receiving a denial, he nodded. “Good. I’ll just rape your logic then.” “You’ve no religion to speak of, but Hollywood fills in the gap. There is a Heaven and a Hell. And then there’s us, smack in the middle. There is some bullshit about rules and maintaining a balance, but it’s just to cover up the notion that those from Above cannot Descend without possessing a physical form, and similarly those Below cannot Rise.” “They would want to do it; why?” Maxwell grinned evilly. “Our souls.” “Che’. I don’t believe in some spooks from the afterlife going after my soul.” “This would be a good moment to start then.” “Look, I don’t really have time for this,” Heero said irritably. “I’ve asked for answers and you’re feeding me fairy tales.” “You asked. I’m providing a background to the answer.” As many people (though not Heero personally, for obvious reasons) could attest, the blue glare was disturbing. The violet one, however, gave it a run for its money. “The crucial thing would be to understand that they are largely not supposed to be here. They are allowed little things, temptations, influences and such. Sometimes they forget their place. I’ve been bestowed with the dubious honour of being in charge of sending them back.” “And you want me to believe it.” Years of schooling and training took over. “You want me to believe that murders, thefts, rapes and every other shit is the devil’s fault?” “I did not say that. Not once,” Maxwell countered coldly. “We are fucked up creatures, that’s what we are. But you came asking about weird disappearances, eyes glowing in the dark and one-eighty personality turns.” “Oh, so that’s to blame on the devil?” “Angels, demons. Yeah, pretty much.” “Is there more, or am I up to date with blockbusters then?” Heero watched Maxwell dig through some cabinets and produce a candle, a small jar and a piece of chalk. “I have no idea why Solo sent you to me, other than you being enough of a dickhead to aggravate me. He might’ve had a reason, so I am going to make an effort.” His fingers danced the chalk across the table, forming a circle with a series of symbols around it. “This is widely known as Hellfire,” he said, extending his palm flat above the circle. He eyes closed, his mouth formed words. What words exactly, it was hard to tell. Heero felt an eye-roll coming on. What now – magic tricks? Then he remembered the disappearances, the unexplainable glow in Moore’s eyes and finally the greeting he received... and promptly squashed the instinctive response. At this point, he was all too willing to believe. When the circle erupted in crimson flames, he felt something click, deep inside his head. His mouth opened a little as he watched the black edge between a flame and air. He’d seen this edge before. TBC.
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