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Disclaimer: Don’t own em, if wishes were fishes I’d be living in an ocean … Don’t sue, not getting any cash for this… and the little money I have goes to feed my pets
Spoiler: Zero system episode?
Reason: Um because I like Trowa’s self dialogue’s!
Feedback: Email me, post… whatever you feel like
Just because I don’t speak boisterously does not mean I do not talk. We’re all, all five of us, young, all with different ideals and yet still the same goal. Perhaps all with different ways with which we want to achieve said goals, but I guess that is what makes us individual.
Somehow I get the feeling I’m the oldest, perhaps soul wise, perhaps experience wise. I’m fifteen, or thereabouts, give or take a few years, more to the give I think. And my outlook on life has always been … well mine. Trowa Barton is a name of convenience, yet it is just a name, it does not change who I am inside, just the way in which people perceive me.
Glancing up from my book, I survey the others, wasn’t really in the mood to read as it was. They’re all so different and yet somehow so alike, it’s like a contradiction in itself and there is no fooling one another. We know what we are; we are killers.
Duo and Quatre sit on the floor of this place we seek refuge in, neither seeming to mind the grime that cakes the floor. I don’t think I can go so far as to call it a house; it more resembles a hovel. Though considering Duo’s background, at least that which I am aware of, he is probably used to hiding in such places. Quatre however is an enigma to me sometimes. Disinheriting himself for a cause? That denotes a hell of a lot of will power and determination. I allow a smile to cross my face briefly, or maybe he is just plain stubborn, you can never tell. His ability to focus is phenomenal and so is the fact that I am sure that those lovely beige pants are now coloured a lovely shade of black on the backside. The way that he sometimes seems to know what each of us is thinking, or feeling, makes me guard myself – he doesn’t need more heartache than he has already had. The way he dealt with it last time was not appropriate, and although we have him to thank for the Zero system, I personally do not want to be responsible for pushing the boy over the edge again. And if I am right, it is something that scares him too, because for someone like him, who can be tactically brilliant, that loss of control would cut.
Maxwell on the other hand, is obvious, or so he would like us all to think. Truth be told, I don’t think many people would look past what he so obviously shoves in their faces, and he is often discounted as a loudmouthed, less intelligent team member. However that is not what I always see. Sometimes if you look discretely enough, you can catch him without that permanent smile, looking away somewhere else, a dark expression of contemplation covering his features. You can see his brain ticking over when he is thinking up an infiltration plan and he thinks no one is looking, because that is his specialty and he is damn good at it. But he will let you think it is all a fluke, he will lull you into believing that everything he succeeds at is pure luck, when it is actually cleverly thought out… at least for the most part. That is the way Duo Maxwell survives, he puts himself out there so obviously that you wouldn’t think twice. Me on the other hand… I have another way I prefer to approach these things.
The braided boy and the blonde are probably the closest of this ‘group’ to being friends… the closest to being able to let go and act like we all should have been at this age, like teenagers. They bend their heads together and laugh at something or other, oblivious to the silent types around them… or do they do it because of us?
I glanced at Wufei, watching him absently twirling his katana over in the corner, face set into a frown of concentration, as usual probably psyching himself up inside. If he could only see himself from the viewpoint of others I do not think he would have a problem thinking that he has the capability to accomplish anything. He is simply far too self-critic. His skills are exemplary, and his determination admirable, and his reasons for fighting… are reasons I wish I had myself. Sometimes I envy him his loss, it makes him more human than I think he realises… but I am not about to tell him that. It is something that Wufei would consider a weakness, and although from weakness strength can result, I do not need a comrade doubting my strength in battle. I will simply know that I can count on him, to do what is just and needs to be done.
Heero taps away on that damn laptop. It’s our life line to the outside world, the one thing that tells us where we need to be and what we need to be doing… it controls our lives more than we would usually like… and Heero’s, more than the rest of us. He is a bundle of confusion. On the one hand he has his training, which he has been taught was the be all and end all of everything. Never having trained with other people of the same age, he isn’t sociable. He reminds me of me a little. The thing is, he tries. Slowly he is learning layman terms…probably from being stuck around Duo a lot, and he makes an effort to communicate. At least, he makes more of an effort than I do. My life wasn’t like his; I don’t have missions in my head that I snap into a controlled mode over once the orders are issued. I envy Heero sometimes too, that his training enables him to switch himself on and off to the missions as we receive them… that he can just stop whatever he is thinking and concentrate on the mission. But I do not envy the way he became who he is… I would never envy that.
So I sit and I watch them. Four other boys caught up in a war of men with twisted ideals and reasoning. And we are boys, just boys who have seen and caused more death than most people can even conceive of in a lifetime. I’m bored, restless, contemplative; whatever you wish to call it.
My hair falls over my eye again, and I flick it away silently. But I am not a silent person. That is a misconception that I like to encourage. When I speak, I make sure that I have plenty to say. What I say is usually profound, and yes I do say so myself. It causes people who cannot understand that I have insight into life at this age, to discount me and therefore to not hear me. That is their loss…my gain, enables them to never guess that I could plan something. I think I was born with a cynical spoon in my mouth; it makes me appreciate the stupidity of mankind a little more. And they are stupid you know…seriously. Just because I am young in no way means that I do not know what I am talking about. My experiences in this life have leant me insight I should otherwise not have, and the reasons I fight this war are my own.
But you see, this can all be used to my advantage. What people refuse to hear and make themselves blind to, gives me the edge in the long run. I could pretend to be someone’s little brother, or someone’s long lost friend… but instead I will just be me, and people can go on thinking I am quiet and reserved.
Because at the end of the day… they’ll never know what hit them.
Ende
Trowa always seemed very… calculating to me, aware of what was going around him and how to put it all to use. The way he speaks belies his young age, and so this is what I got when I thought about it too much... be gentle I’ve never written Trowa before lol
~Arith