Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

O.o It's a little different, I hope, from other stories you've all read. After all, it's not every day something THIS weird pops up, right? :D Nyahhh? Well, I hope you read and review. My lazy bum was being creative for once.

Pairings: 1x2(x5?) and 3x4

There's a reason why I have a jug inside my stomach. If I didn't, everything I drank would end up coming out of my pants the very moment the liquid hits the back of my throat. That's right, no internal organs. They have been gone long ago, and sometimes I find myself missing it. Other times, not so much, especially when I see people pushing pass each other trying to rush to the washroom in urgent need. And of course, there are those unlucky ones who get stuck in the washroom all day. Talk about bad diarrhea. So yes, I do consider myself quite lucky, for a zombie that is.

So I can't eat, big deal. It's not my fault my organs decided to stop all of a sudden. I didn't decide to die one day, and wake up a couple of weeks later only to find that I couldn't breathe, eat, drink or use the washroom. Or to be alive, for that matter, but am I really alive? All that nonstop fiction about zombies eating people, that's a lie. Why would we want to eat when it wasn't even possible? The organs don't work! People really need to find different ways to scare children, I mean, sure I might be as cold as death and a little pale, but hey, that doesn't constitute me as a cannibal.

"Hey, are you ordering something or not? You're not the only one in line!" I blinked, and turned to look behind me. There was a long line of people, all scowling and impatient. Oops. I looked back to the front and smiled sheepishly at the man handling the cashier.

"Right, uh, may I have number three with combo to go?" The man punched in the codes, and nodded me to the side after I paid him. Images are important, even if it was a waste a time.

After receiving my orders, I walked out with the bag in hand. That was the fifth time today that I have zoned out. It's getting quite annoying.

I am still in the process of trying to figure out whose guinea pig I am, what was injected into me and why was I picked out of the millions of people out there. Hell, out of all the different colonies in the world, why me? I mean, sure, I've done some bad things in the past like say being a terrorist, but in my defense I was doing it to save the whole damn world. And look at where that got me? A science project for who knows what. I looked up in time to see a familiar face, and quickly moved to hide in the shadows of the alleyway. I pulled up my hood and waited until the person walked past me and disappeared among the other pedestrians.

"That, my friend, was close." I mumbled to myself, peeking down the sidewalk to make sure that the other person was indeed gone before continuing on the opposite direction. The last thing I needed at this moment, I decided long ago, was to run into anyone from the war. We never did get along, the other Gundam pilots and I except for maybe with blondie, but even that was relatively stiff. They didn't care for me, not the way I did for them. I was stupid to of thought that they would think of us band of people as brothers. Naive, that's what I was and still am. I still hope that someday they will come to realize it. I sighed to myself; naive and stupid, a great combination.

I walked down the sidewalk, the hood casting a dark shadow over my eyes. Passing by a store with televisions loudly blaring newscasts, I finally decided to stop and watch it. Free television was better than no television. After a couple of minutes, I decided to depart from my spot in front of the windowpane, or that was my intention at least, until a particular ad popped up. My eyebrows went above hairline level.

Was that...me?

I stood and watched as red pop-ups jumped around the screen, showing my age, height, gender and when I was last seen. I snorted. I immediately disappeared after the second war, not wanting to stick around for another second longer. I didn't matter, after all, since I was more of a sidekick than anything. A street rat who somehow managed to steal a Gundam and fight his way through the war in the name of revenge. I didn't want any glory. I just didn't want anyone else to suffer the same way I did and live the same life I had. The one Duo Maxwell had.

I find it funny how these campaigns didn't come about until five years after my disappearance. I guess they finally realized I wasn't going for a vacation. Ah well, thinking about the past always made me feel depressed. I should be going now, it's almost time for another check-up. I grimaced. I hated those. Stupid machinery, stupid old man, stupid check-ups. Why didn't I just stay dead the first time around?

I reached the place after walking for another couple of odd blocks or so. Looking up, I stared at the crooked sign that read "Morgue" in bright red paint. That old man needs to change that soon. It's starting to look more like blood day by day. Wouldn't want the police to drop by and close this place down. I pushed open the dark blue, wood door and closed it behind me.

"Gerald!" I called out, my voice echoing down the long hallway. "Hey! I'm here for my check-up!" I push open the sliding doors and stepped into the bright room, the lights momentarily blinding me. "Gah, stupid lights. Why don't you get something fluorescent?" I questioned the scientist in the corner of the room. "Those light white ones. They make the room yellow and less likely to make me lose my eyesight. The lights you have make me feel like I'm staring at the sun."

"Ah, Duo. You're finally here," he glared at me. I shrugged my shoulders and grinned sheepishly. He sighed, giving up. "Come on, sit on the table. I don't want to see you anymore than you want to see me."

I hopped on top of his table. The "autopsy" table, he called it. Yeah, whatever. "So doc, how've you been?"

He gave me another heavy sigh and tapped my arms. "I know it's very hard for you, Duo, but do refrain from talking so much. You're giving me a headache." I scowled at him, crossing my arms together when he was done with them. He tapped my legs next. "Did you find any leads?" Bingo. Straight to the point, just like someone I once knew.

"No. I've searched everywhere, but not even a damn fingerprint." Not to mention this was the same sentence I've been saying for the past five fucking years. Geez, give a guy a break, will you? Can't you just jump out and let me know who the hell you are? Nope, you just got to be so damn annoying and a coward. I always did have the best of luck.

Sarcasm, got to love it.

"Alright, I'm all done. The wires seem to be functioning well, although I will need you to return next week to replace the blood in that container of yours."

I jumped off the table and unrolled my sleeves. "Yeah, you got it. It's not as though I have a choice."

I heard him shuffle around behind me. "Are you sure you'd like to work alone? Wouldn't it be better to ask some help from those old war buddies of yours?" I rolled my eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd asked me this.

"Come on, you're sounding like a mother hen right about now." I smiled when he huffed at me. "I don't need those guys. I can handle it on my own."

"And how long has it been since the first time you've said that? Years, Duo. I won't be around forever to help you."

"You say that now, but we both know you'll live until you're beyond a hundred years old,"I joked, then said, "I need to go now. Any later and I might get jumped on the way home. Not that I can't handle them," I quickly added, trying to assert my masculinity. He snorted at me, cleaning his table and his tools with alcohol.

"If you would just cut that hair of yours-"

"No."

Without a moment's hesitation, I marched out of the room. "I'll catch you next week, old man!" I ignored the curse thrown my way and walked out to the streets. Damn, it really is dark already. Next time, I'll have to carry a watch on me.