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Power Trip	By : kracken Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3344 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I don't make any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 1-Power Trip
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 2
- 3
- 4
"Maxwell!" One of the men was shouting in alarm as Milliardo's feet hit jungle growth. He was attempting to release his parachute in the next instant, and struggling to keep his feet, as it tried to drag him backward in an unexpected rush of wind.

Something was wrong. As his parachute was whipped away and into the trees by the wind, Milliardo was already checking his team. The crises was already over, taken care of by Duo. Milliardo strode up to where the man was still gripping severed parachute cord with one hand and his hunting knife in the other. Levitz was attached to the other end of the cords.

"Report!" Milliardo bellowed as his medic scrambled along side him and then beyond him to check on the woman, who was face down in the forest loam and just beginning to lever herself up, looking dazed.

Duo simply rolled onto his back, panting hard, and then said to Milliardo, "I lost some skin, but everything else feels A-okay."

"My chute wouldn't release, sir," Levitz was saying shakily as the medic helped her sit and began his examination. "Maxwell saved me from being lifted into the trees."

"Good work, Maxwell," Milliardo said curtly and then, without looking at Levitz,"You are on report, Levitz, for not checking your equipment properly. Medic, Agent Maxwell is under the delusion that he has a medical degree. Please check him thoroughly as well."

"Yes, sir," the medic, a short blonde grinned at Duo as he worked on Levitz, as if he had won some sort of bet and was already counting his winnings.

Duo sat up, pulled at his mangled uniform shirt to look at the dirt and the rips. "Well, that's over with," he said as he took it off and then tossed it aside. "The damned things never do last very long during jungle missions."

Milliardo could almost believe that Duo had orchestrated the entire sequence of events to get rid of his uniform. Milliardo chose not to give him the reaction that he was surely seeking, turned on his heel, and began rounding up his team and making sure that their equipment hadn't suffered any harm.

"Set up the GPS pad," Milliardo ordered. "I want formation and forward movement in ten minutes agents!"

An agent unstrapped a tripod from Levits's gear, sprung open the legs, and then stabbed the sharp points on the legs into the ground. Hitting a switch, Milliardo was relieved to see the green light begin blinking, an clear indication that it was up and running and hadn't been damaged.

"Just admire the trees for a second Levitz," Duo's voice said. "There you go, sweetie. See that one? I think it's a ficus-"

"Shit!" Levitz's curse of pain spun Milliardo around in time to see the medic brandish metal tweezers and a long sliver of wood.

"See not that bad at all. She'll live, right doc?" Duo joked.

"Maxwell!" Milliardo snarled. "Stop holding hands with Levitz and get communications checked."

"Okay, but I really don't think that the logistics and explosive's expert should be carrying the lifeline of the outfit as well," Duo muttered as he left Levitz and began digging through his equipment.

"When commander is in front of your name, Maxwell, then it will be your strategy and your orders that will be followed," Milliardo snapped back.

The older agent, that had been seated next to Maxwell on the transport, gave Duo's foot a slight kick. A friendly warning to shut up. Duo didn't acknowledge it and kept working, but he was silent after that.

The parachute drop had been risky, Milliardo knew, but drop lines from a hovering transport would have been dangerous as well, considering the tricky terrain. A bird in an intake, or the suctioning up of jungle growth into bottom engines, had been a real possibility considering the densely packed canopy of jungle. Even their small clearing had a litter of forest debris. Milliardo had calculated less risk in a tight parachute drop. The compact shutes were specifically designed to cut down on updrafting and that made Levitz's mishap even less forgivable.

It was regrettable, Milliardo thought, as his people checked and loaded equipment. It showed a lack of attention to detail, that Levitz had made a mistake like that one. He had been harboring high hopes for her career .A black mark on her record, at this point, would probably ruin her chances to get far in the command structure.

All of the equipment checked out, and they moved off into the jungle. The stationary GPS would mark their entrance and give them signal boost for communication, but they wouldn't return to that spot for pick up. Instead, it was a marker for rescue, or replacement agents if they failed that miserably. Their exit strategy, entailed a very long hike, through dense jungle, towards a mountainous region to the north of their position, where pickup with heavy equipment would be quick and effortless. Getting them there depended heavily on Maxwell's deep jungle experience.

Hawkins was his back-up. Often paired with Maxwell, the man, for all of his lack of military finesse, still had high marks for completing missions. His file had profiled him as a follower, though, not command material. His last mission commander had a made a note about his abysmal sense of direction and his penchant for 'finding trouble'. He needed a keeper, Milliardo thought, and he had found that keeper paired with Maxwell.

Even now he followed behind Maxwell, one man looking pantherish, strong, and in his element and the other over large, clumsy, and struggling with balancing his equipment. His eyes, Milliardo noted, were always on Maxwell as if waiting for even the subtlest cue to perform some action. The man had jungle experience, but Milliardo didn't want to rely on him unless absolutely necessary.

Levitz was next in line, looking like the perfect soldier even with a uniform shirt soaked with sweat and covered in dirt. Her hair was a tangled mess that she had pinned back from her face and a bruise on her cheek and smeared dirt was a reminder of her mistake. From the grim, tight bunch of her jaw, Milliardo read a determination to redeem herself.

Tamins was their weapons expert. He was red haired and freckled faced, barely old enough to drink, but old enough to sign up for Preventers and, maybe die like the rest of them. Whip cord thin, he was all hands and feet, his blue eyes on the ground, and looking concerned, as if he were afraid of snakes.

Diaz, Haskins, Pauly, and Krimmins were the four 'muscle' of the mission. It was their job to carry the weapon. They all were newbies,and, like Tamins, far too young in Milliardo's estimation.

The medic, Sheffield, or 'Shef', as everyone seemed to call him, was a veteran. Calm, quiet, and competent, just the qualities needed for a man who often had to work on wounded men during fire fights.He had only one warning blip. He had spent some time in an enemy camp and had experienced torture. While the Psyche hadn't seen any mental breaks from the ordeal, his warning that flash backs might occur had been duly noted by Milliardo. the man was whistling slightly under his breath, just then, eyes a little unfocused, as if he were thinking about something a million miles away and far more pleasant than walking through a bug infested jungle.

Milliardo turned on his personal repellent, a small round clip at his collar that emitted a slight buzz that bugs found distasteful. It didn't stop them all, but it made things more bearable.

"Hey barbecue!" Duo called out.

Shef blinked back to the here and now and moved forward in the line. "What's up?"

Barbecue? Milliardo was puzzled as Duo rotated an elbow, winced and then said something low to Shef. The man nodded, checked the elbow, and then replied, "Tough it out, Maxwell. It's still in the socket, just bone bruised. I'm saving the medicine for more than paper cuts."

"Thanks for the compassion, Barbecue," Duo replied sarcastically. "I'll remind you of your awful bedside manner when I can't save your ass by throwing a micro grenade properly."

"Save me from...? A big mosquito?" Shef shot back. "This is a mop of mission, Maxwell, not combat. Stop being a baby."

He moved back to his place in line and Duo muttered a curse and tucked his injured elbow in close to his body as he stayed at point. Milliardo moved up the line to ask Shef, "What did he want?"

"A cortisone shot," Shef replied with a frown. "You're not questioning my medical competence are you, sir? I assure you that Maxwell's elbow will stop hurting after a few hours. He's always worried about being in perfect physical condition during missions. A bit of obsessive behavior, if you ask me."

"I trust your judgment," Milliardo told him.

Milliardo could understand Duo's obsession. A man who relied on his body to keep him alive, and who often had to judge life or death situations by knowledge of his own abilities, wouldn't want a calculation off because of any physical impairment.

"Why did he call you 'Barbecue' ?" Milliardo wondered.

Shef smirked. "Oh, that? Well, you've probably read that I was tortured, at one point?"

"Yes."

"They used a barbecue grill to heat up the iron that they burned me with," Shef said as if it were funny, rather than the horror that it must have been.

"I'll add it to my report when we return to headquarters," Milliardo told him angrily.

Shef snorted. "You don't have to do that, sir. It's funny. Sort of takes the sting out of it, making it a joke like that. I suppose that I can't explain why, but its worse when everyone tip toeing around the subject and or acting sick and horrified for me."

"Noted," Milliardo replied and found that other words weren't forthcoming. He dropped back to the end of the line, instead, to keep an eye on his agents and to go over the logistics in his mind, one more time. Like an intricate dance, everything had to come together perfectly.

"Look, a tiki bar!" Duo exclaimed and everyone laughed at the joke.

"Maxwell!" Milliardo shouted, but it lacked heat. They were still early on in the mission. He wasn't going to insist on strict behavior just yet. He intended to tighten Maxwell's leash, though, and bring him to heel properly, before things did heat up.

tbc
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Power Trip