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"Boot Camp"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved. Warnings: AU (sort of), yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), some violence, references to NCS (especially in later chapters) Pairings: 1+2, 3+4 (to start with) A/N: This is the first time I'm getting up the nerve to post a story...hope it's not too similar to anyone else's (haven't seen one just like it). Candid, kindly-delivered critiques will be greatly appreciated...please don't rip my head off too much? Um, and the old "don't like, don't read" phrase holds true. Oh, and it's fiction, and I don't have a law degree, so there's sure to be some inaccuracies...can we just pretend, please? Thanks in advance. Rating: NC 17 Summary: Four boys in the juvenile justice system
receive a last chance to make something of their futures. Will boot
camp make or break them? And can they ever learn to be a team? "Boot Camp"
The bus pulled up at a closed gate, and Duo Maxwell leaned against the window for a closer look at what would be his home for the foreseeable future. A sign across the entrance read “Camp Peacecraft” rather shabbily painted over the old “MSC Camp Rockledge.” Tall chain link fences topped by concertina wire marked the perimeter, and the young man shook his head ruefully. So much for that whole ‘summer camp’ look they were probably going for. He snorted to himself, settling deeper into his seat. The blonde boy a couple of seats in front of him sat up sharply, eyes going wide at the sight of the guard towers and patrolling canine units. Duo smirked. Yeah, blondie, get ready for a rude awakening. He shook his head, wondering vaguely what a sweet-looking kid like that could have done to end up on a bus to Hell with a bunch of third strike losers. That had to be a mistake. The gate rolled open and the bus proceeded into a fenced compound. At that point the driver shut off the engine and waited for guards to board. “Alright you little juvie brats,” said a portly man in uniform. “I’m Sergeant Troy, and I’m tasked with inducting you little pukes into Camp Peacecraft. Here’s how we’re going to proceed. As I read off your names, you will each proceed to the front of this bus, lining up in roll call order. We will then proceed on foot into the orientation center. There you’ll enjoy the customary strip search and medical exam, receive a uniform and barracks assignment, and be fitted with your identification anklet. There will be a minimum of talking in line. If you have a question, raise your hand like a polite little boy, and one of us might condescend to answer…what?” Duo, unable to resist temptation, had raised his hand. “Um, yeah, sir…just a quick question. Where’d a dumbass like you learn a word like ‘condescend?’” Nervous chuckles filled the small bus, and the guard’s face darkened. “So we’ve got a wise guy already?” He glanced down at his clipboard. “You got a name, smart mouth?” “Maxwell.” The man glanced down at his clipboard. “Ah, yes…Duo Maxwell.” He eyed the boy menacingly. “One more word out of that smart mouth, and I’ll volunteer to do the strip search personally.” Duo’s eyes widened, and he mock-gagged into his hand. “Got it?” Duo nodded, managing a cocky smirk even as he backed off enough to avoid the unpleasant threat. “Alright then. Since we’ve dispensed with interruptions, let’s get on with the lineup…Artemis…Barton…Brown…” Duo glanced up sharply as the second boy called jostled his shoulder in passing. The tall, slim kid had auburn hair that hung mostly over one side of his face, and startlingly green eyes. He wore a very slight conspiratorial smirk, and nodded almost imperceptibly at Duo, subtly praising his cheek. Duo grinned back. Ah, a fellow trouble maker. Maybe he could be enlisted for that ill-conceived escape plan. Wonder if he knows anything about survival in the wilderness. “Maxwell…Norton…Parsons…Pritchard…” Duo stood up and stretched, tossed his braid back over his shoulder, and swaggered into his place in the lineup. While he might genuinely fear prison, he was an old hand at juvenile detention, and knew he could handle most anything kids his own age dished out. He stumbled as someone yanked his braid from behind when he passed, and turned a sharp glare to see a broad-shouldered redhead leering at him. Duo leaned over the offender, indigo eyes alight with danger. “Touch the braid again, and die,” he whispered softly, allowing the other boy to see the genuine malice in his deep eyes. The redhead paused mid-chuckle, and his jaw went slack. He’d automatically assumed the long hair meant an effeminate nature to match the outward beauty, and he saw instantly how wrong he’d been. There was a menacing gleam in the cobalt eyes that made the braided boy look just a little insane. And suddenly the other boy knew Duo was capable of carrying out his threat. “You ain’t kidding, are you?” Duo shook his head slowly. “The last kid who thought I was is still nursing broken bones, chubby.” He allowed an arrogant gaze to sweep the heavyset boy from head to toe. “Do we understand one another?” “Uh, yeah,” muttered the stocky boy, looking down at the floor studiously. Duo turned away slowly, almost leisurely, and took his place in the lineup. The guard gave him a sort of fishy look as he passed, having seen but not overheard the little exchange in the back of the bus. And then they were down the steps and off the bus, and the straggling line of tired, disgruntled boys made their way to the induction center. There, as promised, they were ushered singly behind barely adequate privacy screens for their strip search. And when finished with that, one by one they entered the exam room for the required physical. Of course, after eight hours cooped up on a bus, Duo was too wound up to simply go with the flow. He just had to raise a little hell whenever the opportunity arose. And when the physical was nearly done, it did. “Look, I swear, I don’t need a shot!” Duo insisted, as the doctor prepared a syringe. “I mean, honestly, didn’t they send my records here from L2? We got all the necessary vaccinations there.” “It’s standard procedure, kid,” insisted the harried physician. “Don’t matter what you’ve had before. You get it here.” “I hate needles!” “Then close your eyes.” “How ‘bout you close yours?” “Very cute.” “Why thank you,” Duo said, batting his eyes at the graying man. “And you’re not half bad yourself. But can’t we just skip the damned shot?” “If I have to call a guard in here, you won’t like the results.” Duo leveled his best glare at the man. “Fine then. Have it your way. But don’t think my lawyer won’t hear about this!” He turned his face away and held out his arm, barely feeling the prick of the needle near his shoulder. “There. Done.” “Really? That’s all there was to it?” Duo asked, blinking in surprise. He treated the doctor to a charming smile. “You’re good!” he beamed. “Just get the hell out of here, and I’ll consider it a blessing.” Duo wore a smug look as he gathered up the uniform they’d given him and dressed quickly before leaving the exam room, and proceeding to the next step of orientation…the ankle bracelet. When Duo entered the little room just beyond the exam room, there was a desk with a bored-looking guard flanked by two others. “Name?” “Uh…Maxwell.” “Yeah…inmate DM02…” A guard stepped forward holding a small electronic device. “Gimme your left ankle, kid.” Duo eyed him warily. “Hey, I hardly know you, bucko. You ain’t layin’ a hand on my ankle.” “Fine. Hey, Johnson, wanna get the cattle prod?” The guard hid a smirk as he looked at his partner. “Whoa. That’s gotta be a civil rights violation…big time!” Duo objected. “Yeah, tell it to the judge. Or you can gimme your ankle.” Duo reluctantly lifted his foot onto the chair the guard indicated, allowing them to fasten the slim metallic device around it. But he sighed dramatically anyway. “I was kinda hoping for a bellybutton ring or something a little more, well, sexy. This is just plain drab.” “Why do I always get the jokers?” lamented the guard, straightening and shaking his head. “Love you too,” Duo grinned back, walking over to the desk, where he was handed a card on which his barracks assignment was printed. There was a key taped to the piece of paper as well. “What’s this open?” “Your foot locker. There’s four to a barracks, and the serial number on the key matches yours.” The guard looked up blandly. “Smart kid like you oughta be able to find it okay.” “I applaud your faith in me,” Duo said snidely, proceeding from that room into a bigger one, where the boys were being assembled again. Another fellow in a MSCA uniform was near the exit door, lining the boys up as they arrived. And then, in no particular order, they were herded out into a dusty yard, and assembled in two rows, where they were instructed to stay put and keep their mouths shut. Duo found himself next to the blonde boy he’d noticed before. On the other side of the blonde was the boy Duo had already come to think of as a co-conspirator; the green-eyed one who’d given him the smirk on the bus. Yeah, this place might work out after all. Then the warden stalked out of the administration building, and Duo felt his stomach lurch. He’d know the man anywhere…the broad shoulders and arrogant swagger…it was Treize Kushrenada, formerly an officer on L2, and now, obviously, the warden of the place Duo was stuck for the next six months. The warden paced in front of the assembled boys, his jaw set and eyes gleaming with malice. “You pieces of shit know why you’re here…this is your last chance to stay out of a prison system that chews up and spits out little pukes like you. So you can grab for this chance with both hands, or let it go…your choice.” Kushrenada smiled to himself in supreme satisfaction. He didn’t agree with the Peacecroft Initiative to rehabilitate young offenders, and he intended to see it fail. This “pilot program” would be the last such effort if he had anything to say about it. His eyes traveled the line of ragged prisoners, and narrowed at the sight of the braided boy at the end of the line. “Well, well,” he smirked, eyes glinting with hatred. “Maxwell.” He’d met the boy once before, having been the officer who first arrested him on the streets of L2. The indigo eyes met his, and he saw the boy stiffen, his jaw set with anger. Apparently he hadn’t forgotten the rough treatment he’d received, and the added charge of resisting arrest that had been tacked on when he fought back. The warden walked slowly down the line until he was face to face with the boy. “Duo Maxwell…I’m surprised to see you here.” Duo glared back. “Thought I’d reformed?” he asked snidely. “No, I figured you’d be doing hard time by now,” sneered the man. He shook his head. “You don’t belong here. You don’t deserve one more chance, you little punk.” “Everyone deserves one more chance,” Duo growled back, echoing the lessons he’d been taught by the priest at the Catholic orphanage. The warden laughed. “It’s a waste of time for you.” He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You’ll wash out in the first week, and I’ll take great delight in signing the order to send you to lockup.” His gaze traveled from the deep, expressive eyes to the boy’s heart-shaped, almost feminine face, and the long braid that swung to mid-thigh. “They’ll like you there, pretty boy,” he sneered. Duo’s eyes widened, and then narrowed dangerously. “Can’t be any worse than living on the streets was,” he said almost in an undertone, trying to sound like he didn’t care. But he did care. More than he’d ever let on, he cared. And he was desperate to stay out of prison for the very reason the warden had cited. “Yes, it can,” said the warden coldly. “I’ll make sure of it.” He turned and gestured to the perimeter fence, resuming his briefing of the prisoners. “As you can see, we have state of the art facilities here…guard towers, fences, dogs…” He pointed towards the boys’ legs. “And GPS anklets. Don’t even thing about escaping. You won’t.” He continued to talk about the security measures and what was expected of the prisoners, but Duo had stopped listening. The boy’s attention was now focused on the blonde kid next to him, who gave him a sympathetic look from wide blue eyes. “Don’t worry,” the blonde murmured reassuringly. “I’ll bet you’ll do great here.” Duo eyed him in disbelief. The kid looked like he was too young to even be in a place like this, with juvenile delinquents like this, and yet he was trying to reassure a seasoned street rat. “My name’s Quatre,” said the blonde. “Uh-huh.” For once, Duo was almost speechless. He just didn’t know what to say in the face of the boy’s innocent optimism. “Where are you from?” Duo glanced absently at the boy, and then back down the line to where the warden was still lecturing. “L2,” he said under his breath. “And don’t let him see us talking,” he cautioned. “Why?” wondered Quatre. “First off,” Duo hissed quietly, “there’s no talking in ranks. Trust me; I’ve broken that rule enough times to know it real well. And secondly, you don’t want to be associated with me. The bastard has it in for me. You don’t want to be around when he takes me down.” “Maxwell!” came the warden’s sharp yell. He stalked furiously back to the braided teen. “Off to a great start, aren’t you?” he sneered. “--talking in ranks.” Quatre was about to speak up and take the blame, when he felt Duo’s elbow bump his in a clear warning. “It was better than listening to you drone on all day about how doomed we all are from the start,” Duo retorted brashly, meeting the man’s steely glare squarely. The warden smiled. “Just for that, you can help me demonstrate the last security feature.” He stepped back, gesturing the boy out of the lineup. “Go on over to the perimeter fence.” Duo eyed him warily. “And if I don’t?” “You’ll be on the bus to the spaceport, and awaiting transport to the L2 penal facility before nightfall.” Duo hesitated, and then his shoulders slumped in defeat. Giving the warden a suspicious glance, he walked sullenly towards the tall chain link fence. Ten feet short of the fence, his ankle bracelet gave off a sharp warning tone, and he stopped. “Keep going, street rat,” called the warden, grinning. Duo glared back at the man, knowing the smile could only mean unpleasantness for him. Sighing and squaring his shoulders, Duo headed for the fence. Five feet away from it, there was a sharp crack of sound, and Duo felt a jolt of electricity that went from his ankle, clear up to his head, washing his entire body in a wave of pain before he slumped to the ground unconscious. “As you can see,” the warden said calmly to the others, “any attempt to approach the perimeter fence without prior authorization will result in immediate incapacitation.” He pushed a button on a control band on his wrist, and gestured for two guards to gather up the stunned boy. They carried him off in the direction of the infirmary. Quatre stood slack-jawed, eyes wide with horror. It was just plain unfair! He felt a pang of guilt that his attempt at conversation had cost the other boy so dearly. “The warden would have picked him anyway,” came a quiet voice to Quatre’s other side. He looked over to see an auburn-haired kid with thick bangs covering one eye. The other eye was deep green. Quatre managed a wan smile. “Why d’you say that?” “You heard them,” shrugged the tall boy. “Warden had it in for Maxwell. He’d have picked him no matter what.” “I’m sorry I gave him an excuse,” Quatre murmured, still unconsoled. “If you hadn’t given him one, he’d have made one up,” insisted the other. Quatre noticed the speaker was taller than him by a few inches, slender and graceful looking. The blonde smiled wanly. “Thanks,” he shrugged, still unconsoled. “I’m Quatre.” “Trowa,” said the other, watching as the warden finished directing the guards who were carrying the unconscious boy away. “And shush, or we’ll be next.” Quatre faced front again, staring intently at the warden to make sure he knew where the man was at all times. Clearly he wasn’t one to be trifled with, and it was even more obvious that he could be brutal if pushed. “Anyone else got any smart remarks?” asked Warden Kushrenada, sharp gaze raking the assembled ranks. A sneer curled his lip. “Thought not,” he smirked. “Well then, you all stay here at attention, and I’ll turn this show over to Captain Chang of the Mobile Suit Corps Academy.” He turned and walked briskly away, and within a few moments, a slender, dark-haired man in uniform walked out of the administration building and approached the boys. “Good afternoon,” he said, dark eyes roaming over the group, almost as if he were looking for something. “My name is Captain Chang. I am the ranking officer heading up this program. Although I’m sure you’ve all got some idea of what’s involved, I’m going to explain it in more detail.” He went on to describe the process that would be employed to fulfill the requirements of the Peacecraft Initiative. The boys were going to be broken into teams of four. There would be one team per barracks, with a leader appointed by the Captain himself. During their time at the camp, the boys would have daily workouts, classes, and training. The team performing the best would automatically be offered a place at the Academy, while those with lesser performances might or might not. Those who finished with lackluster performance would at least have fulfilled their sentence requirements, and would be released on probation. The only way to fail was to break camp rules or commit a crime while in the program, in which case, the offender would be shipped off to the penal facility on whatever colony he was from. There he would serve out whatever time his original sentence had been. Quatre resolved at once not to break any camp rules, and although he’d barely met Duo Maxwell, he found himself mildly worried that the other boy would have difficulty with that task. At the end of his speech, Captain Chang introduced his group of Lieutenants, who would be the instructors in various subjects. And below them were Corporals, one assigned to each team as an advisor and guide. Since barracks assignments had already been handed out, all that remained was roll call. “As your name is read, you will come up and get a list of regulations, a map of the camp, and a class schedule; then proceed to your barracks, make your bunks and take an hour to familiarize yourselves with the map before making your way to supper at 1800 hours.” He smiled without much humor. “You’re lucky…there’ll be no calisthenics today, although after the long bus ride, you could use the exercise. Consider this your last day of rest and recreation. Orientation begins first thing in the morning.” He started on the roll call then, and with the last name “Winner,” Quatre had plenty of time to stand and shift wearily from foot to foot while looking around at the others. The auburn-haired Trowa turned out to have a last name of “Barton.” He gave a slight shrug and something close to a smile before leaving Quatre to stand in line until the bitter end. Quatre finally heard his name and made his way up to the front to receive his assignment. As a harried-looking Lieutenant handed him some papers, he caught Captain Chang’s voice raised in agitation. “Why are we missing two people off the list?” “I don’t know, sir. Shall I check with the warden?” “Of course! See if he knows where Maxwell and Yuy are. I’d hate to think we’ve got two escapees the first day!” “Um, sir?” Quatre spoke up, taking his papers and turning to the Captain. “What?” demanded Captain Chang, scowling deeply. “Maxwell’s in the infirmary, sir.” The dark eyes fixed on Quatre, and some of the Captain’s impatience seemed to ease. “The infirmary? Why? Was he bus-sick or something?” “Um…the warden used him to demonstrate the perimeter defenses, sir,” Quatre told him with a slight grimace. The Captain darted a questioning look at one of his Lieutenants. “Ah, the ankle bracelets, sir,” came the hasty reply. “Anyone getting too close to the fence gets an electric shock.” The Captain’s eyebrows rose at that. “Severe enough to cause injury?” he demanded. “From what the guards tell me, it can knock a man out for up to a half hour.” Captain Chang’s face darkened. “And they’re using it in a juvenile facility?” “It was already here when the place was renovated,” shrugged the other man. “Well perhaps we can see about getting it removed,” muttered the Chinese officer. He looked back at Quatre. “What about Yuy?” “I don’t know,” shrugged the boy. “I only met Duo while we were lined up. Aside from him and Trowa, I don’t know any names.” The Captain nodded. “Thank you for the information--?” He looked expectantly at Quatre. “Oh, um, I’m Quatre Winner…sir.” “Winner, eh?” The Captain’s eyes lit with recognition, and a bit of surprise. “From the Winner family? L4?” “Yes, sir,” Quatre sighed. Chang looked at him for a moment, and then nodded dismissively. “I thank you for the information about Maxwell, Recruit Winner. You may go to your barracks now and get settled in.” “Yes, sir.” Quatre hurried off, breathing a sigh of relief once he was out of sight of the severe-looking soldier. Glancing at his map, he saw that his barracks was designated by a ‘G’ and was at the end of a row near the communal shower facility, so he headed in that direction. When he walked in, he received a pleasant surprise. The boy named Trowa Barton was there ahead of him, throwing a sheet on a top bunk. “Hey, we meet again!” Quatre said happily, feeling unaccountably relieved that he already knew one of his roommates. Trowa nodded, busy tucking in the edges. “No one else is here yet, so you may as well claim any bunk you want. There’s another top, or two bottom bunks to pick from.” “Yeah, I kind of like staying close to the floor,” Quatre confessed. “Maybe I’ll just take the bunk under yours.” He gave Trowa a rather wan smile. “For all I know the fellow who takes the other top bunk might be a great big hulk, and I’d spend all night wondering if I’d get crushed when the frame gives out.” Trowa chuckled at that, but it was a quiet, almost repressed sound, as if he didn’t let it out often. “That’s fine with me.” Quatre found his designated foot locker, and pulled out a sheet, pillowcase and blanket, and set about making his bunk. “Where d’you suppose the rest of our team is?” he asked, glancing at the two empty beds on the other side of the room. “Lost?” Trowa ventured, finished with his task. He pulled himself up onto his bunk and gingerly tested it for comfort. From the way he stretched out on it and closed his eyes, Quatre got the feeling their conversation was over. “Captain Chang was missing a couple of people at roll call,” Quatre added, almost to himself. “Maybe they’re our roommates.” He smiled at the thought, realizing that would mean Duo was on his team. On the heels of that thought came a rush of guilt. “The warden didn’t need to go so far with Maxwell to prove a point,” he said tautly. “No, he didn’t,” Trowa shrugged, clearly not interested in pursuing that train of thought. Quatre finished making his own bunk, and then for good measure made the two unoccupied ones, figuring that if their bunkmates arrived late, they might be glad for one less thing to do. After he finished that, Quatre followed Trowa’s example, and stretched out to study the camp map and his class list. “Wow…martial arts? Phys ed…military history…battle
suit tactics…strategy of warfare…” He smiled slightly.
Chess was his favorite game, and anything involving strategy and tactics
would be right up his alley. Maybe he could gain something out of
this “punishment” after all. tbc... |
