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[Day 2] An Explosive Personality
Topic Started: Tue Dec 1, 2009 2:55 am (637 Views)
Treize Khushrenada
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One might wonder how Treize managed to survive the explosion of Tallgeese II at the end of the war. Why, he understood splodeys, of course! Which also helped him get a job here at the university wherein he taught a course about it. Having anticipated the final battle, he ordered his technicians to reinforce the fuselage so it could withstand a fusion explosion of 150 gigatons or so.

The only wrinkle in his plan was that he had to disappear afterward. The war couldn't end without his death; his troops would never surrender otherwise. It was therefore necessary for him to start a new life somewhere obscure. He'd considered many possible occupations:

professional equestrian
SWAT team coordinator
art critic
fashion designer
choreographer of Broadway musicals
Prime Minister

But in the end he decided they would all be too high-profile for someone trying to lay low. He then settled on a teaching position at a university in a place no one would ever think to look for him—London, England. He had no estates in Great Britain, so he purchased a small 500 acre lot just outside the city with a moderate 20-room manor house on it. Roughing it, to be sure, but he'd eventually get used to a less lavish life.

No, he wouldn't, but he didn't have much choice. The pay scale for a professor vs. a military commander didn't afford one a private shuttle, yacht, hunting lodge or secretly-built gundam.  Drats.  Treize would make the most of it, however. He still had stables and horses, tennis courts, an Olympic-size swimming pool and a generous wine cellar. His comfort was far less important than imparting his prodigious intellect on all these ungrateful, ignorant wretches. No, really.

Thus, he was here in room something or other, about to introduce the freshmen to proper explosive technology, theory and application. Who knows, maybe one of them would do him proud and become an international terrorist one day.

"Good morning, class. My name is Mr. Khushrenada, but you may call me Your Grace, Your Worship or Your Excellency. Now, if you'll open your books to chapter 1, we'll begin."

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Duo Maxwell
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>>

Once Duo stepped inside the lab with a confident stride and an obnoxious grin in place, ready to go into a long spiel about why he was late to class because he'd had to dive into the swimming pool to save a little drowning Korean man on his way to class, ended up giving him mouth to mouth resuscitation, and had been forced to go back to his dorm to change into some dry clothes before gracing this class with his heroic presence, but the first words died on his tongue as his ears caught wind of a familiar voice rambling on about something relatively mundane but somehow magnificent the way it was being said.

His gaze swiveled toward the owner of said voice, and his whole body froze mid-motion. All the terrified thoughts of zombies came flying back, along with more concrete memories of being locked in a pitch black OZ prison cell by himself for days, with only the lovely image of his execution to look forward to.

It was Treize. Treize fucking Kushrenada. Treize was DEAD, dammit.

He was struck speechless and immobile. Now, Heero had 'persuaded' him to not attack whatever professor was in here. He understood why, but he certainly didn't give a fuck if he ended up in jail, as long as that bastard was dead, once and for all. The desire to see this man's head split open and his brains on all the walls was quickly winning out over his accord with Heero, and he took a step toward the front of the room.

An intervention would do well right about now.
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Heero Yuy
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>>

Heero rushed into the laboratory room after his roommate and almost ran into the idiot as Maxwell came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room, staring stupidly at the one and only Treize Kushrenada. Well kick my ass and call me Susan. His Excellency was alive and well, teaching a group of adolescents the finer points of incendiary safety. How ironic.

Now if he could just get Maxwell distracted. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the braided moron was concocting 101 schemes to dismember the former OZ general, and that wouldn't do them any good at all. So instead of making a scene in the middle of the labroom, Heero rolled his eyes discreetly, grabbed his roommate's hand, and tugged him silently over to the nearest empty table.

Well, it was relatively empty. There was a tired-looking young woman sitting at the very end of the long oak table, perched on her stool, staring at Kushrenada like he was the single most boring person she'd ever met. Heero pushed Maxwell down onto a stool, took a seat beside him, and feigned interest in the lecture. He kept a secure hold on his counterpart's hand underneath the table, adjusting his grip until he felt fine bones grind together painfully. He leaned closer to Maxwell and muttered quietly to avoid being overheard. "Remember the mission, 02."

Heero studied their enemy carefully. This whole 'getting expelled from ICUP' idea had just become a hell of a lot more interesting, as far as he was concerned. What the hell was Kushrenada doing here? And why had Une and the Preventers not mentioned his having survived the war? Would he still recognize the pilots? And why was Maxwell growling?

They would need to find Chang and the others after this class, if they weren't all taking the same Interstellar Law lecture later this afternoon. They would want this interesting bit of news, and Heero wasn't leaving Maxwell unsupervised from this moment onward. He could only imagine the sort of harebrained scheme the idiot would cook up--poisoning His Excellency's morning coffee, scaling the professors' living quarters in the dead of night and smothering him to death with his own fancy Egyptian cotton pillows...

Maxwell was a little too resourceful sometimes, and Heero figured that he'd have his work cut out for him in keeping the moron out of serious trouble. Escpecially if the teenager had more knives stashed in their dorm room. He fixed the braided youth with a long-suffering sideways glance and frowned. With his free hand, he fished out a piece of paper and pencil from his own backpack as quietly as possible and scratched down a quick sentence.

Fire alarm?

Perhaps the promise of random mischief would be enough to divert Maxwell's attention away from the crazy man who had tried to kill him?
Edited by Heero Yuy, Tue Dec 1, 2009 6:30 pm.
The Plan
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Treize Khushrenada
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"Explosives are substances containing a great amount of stored energy that can produce a sudden expansion of the material after ignition, usually accompanied by the production of light, heat and pressure. This event is called an explosion. Explosives were first made by Asian alchemists more than a thousand years ago when they discovered mixtures of saltpeter (KNO3) and sulfur could be detonated. Explosives are classified as low or high. Low explosives, like gunpowder, burn slowly and are normally employed as propellants. High explosives, such as nitroglycerine, are usually compounds and detonate at rates ranging from 3,000 to 9,000 meters per second, releasing large amounts of energy when ignited."

Yes, even the most interesting subjects seemed to deteriorate into boring drivel once reduced to mere facts and figures. Fortunately Treize had such an incredibly sultry voice that surely no one in class was anything but completely enthralled with every word dripping from his tongue right now. Why hadn't he taken singing lessons as a youth? Maybe he had and couldn't remember. Oh, well...it was hardly necessary. With a voice like his, it was doubtful that lessons could improve his glorious timbre, and would only be gilding the lily.

Honestly, how could these students bear to sit there and not molest him? Treize could scarcely imagine. It must be absolutely tormenting for them. Ho hum, there was little he could do about that. They would simply have to sit quietly and pray that he might take notice of their unremarkable presence as he paced through the aisles and read from the textbook.

"Miss...er...Dussault," Treize addressed the young lady after consulting the roster.  "Can you name three things we wouldn't have today without explosives?"

"Um...the Nobel Prize, Guy Fawkes Night or a great big hole in space where Colony A200 used to be in the L5 sector."

"Ah, yes. Quite right."  Ignorant wretches.  Why was he here trying to teach these reprobates again?  "Perhaps you could try the question, Miss Bindon-Rice."

"Oh, sure! We wouldn't have the Suez Canal, Mount Rushmore or the Three Gorges Dam."

"Very good."  And what was this now? Treize turned around and noticed a braided miscreant planted directly in the path he was traversing between the desks. Another ruffian soon grabbed the first one by the arm and led him over to a desk, but something about them plagued his memory. Why did they look so familiar? Something about them reminded him of colony violence.

Oh, wait a minute. He had it now. They were gundam pilots. He remembered now. He'd once asked the shaggy-haired one to kill him, but the little terrorist had merely fallen at his feet claiming to be unworthy or something. Most disappointing. What could they possibly be doing here? They knew more about explosives than he knew about opera.

Well, no they didn't...but they knew a lot. They must be here brushing up on their techniques to foment another war. Yes, that was probably it. Well, they'd have to wait another day for that. Treize would tolerate no disruptions in his classroom.

"Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Yuy, what can you tell the class about Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine, or RDX, the main ingredient in plastic explosives?"

This would be an excellent opportunity for the class to compare the gundam pilots' voices and realize just how superior his own was.

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Duo Maxwell
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Raped by school.
Duo's slow progress forward came to an unexpected halt when a vice-like grip curled around his hand and yanked. He was forced to do a little hop-skip to keep from falling on the lab tables and breaking all the nice shiny test tubes and things set out for them to use. Once he was forcibly seated beside a hot-librarian type student and had finished giving Heero a curdling glare for manhandling him yet again, as well as foiling his intent to kill Kushrenada using that awesome fire axe stored in that glass case over there, his attention refocused on the zombie teaching his explosives lab and his lip curled in a sneer. He glowered at the man and ignored Heero even when he heard him mutter something else about missions and remembering things. It wasn't until the grip on his hand was near crushing his fingers that he tore his gaze away from Treize and glanced down.

Heero Yuy was totally holding his hand. What was he? Like five? Was this some crazy attempt to reconnect with his human side? As he thought about it he realized the more realistic reason was to keep him in his seat. Like a leash. You don't put a goddamn leash on the God of Death!

He wiggled his fingers and pulled on his hand, but Heero squeezed even tighter and Duo gave him a withering glare, giving up for the time being on freeing himself. He let out a huff and planted the elbow of his free arm on the table, slouching and propping his chin up with his hand. Duo glanced down once more only when Heero shoved a paper discreetly under his nose that said 'Fire alarm?' Duo snorted and glared at him, giving his hand a good shake. 'Holding hands?' the pilot mouthed at him in response. He turned his head to glare at Treize again.

Though maybe that wasn't such a good idea, because Treize seemed to notice his glaring and finally broke off from his drawling lecture. "Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Yuy, what can you tell the class about Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine, or RDX, the main ingredient in plastic explosives?"

Duo twitched, then he leaned forward, slamming his fist down on the table, and sneered at him, "Yea. That's what I'm gonna use to fucking ki---" The rest of his declaration would have been 'kill you for good this time.' But Yuy's hand had muffled that part. His eyes rolled to fix on his partner and he glared daggers at him, but the returned warning glare made him snort and give a tiny nod. He used his free hand to grab Heero's wrist and pull it from his mouth. He ground out the longest textbook response he could muster with barely contained loathing. "More commonly known as C4, RDX is the most brisant and strongest military explosive. In its pure form it's a white crystalline solid, and keeps in storage pretty well because it's stable at room temp. and it can only be set off with a fuse. Doesn't even go off when you shoot it. Though once it hits below -4 Celcius it gets pretty sensitive. They mostly use it for controlled demolitions on Earth now, since you can't use it in space because it sublimates in a vacuum."
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Treize Khushrenada
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"Excellent. Actually, RDX is an explosive used in C-4 rather than a synonym for it, for that's close enough. About 91% of C-4 is RDX by weight, the rest being a plastic binder like polyisobutylene, a plasticizer such as diethylhexyl or dioctyl sebacate and taggant chemicals such as 2,3-dimethyl-2,3-dinitrobutane (DMDNB) to help detect the explosive and identify its source."

Why did Treize have the feeling that the g-boys were up to something just being in his class? It certainly wasn't necessary for them to be in school at this juncture in their lives. They had more worldly experience than all the other students here put together, and if they were simply going to college to learn a new skill then why take classes in courses they'd already mastered? Very odd.

"Perhaps one of you could tell the class some of the practical applications for explosives used in time of war? I'm sure you both have some riveting experiences you could share from your numerous interactions with OZ or Dekim Barton's ill-considered experiment with army recruitment."

Treize snickered a bit as he took a seat at his desk and propped his incredibly sexy boots up on the desktop. It was good to have a high-backed rolling executive chair. Steepling his fingers, he waited for whatever fascinating nuggets the boys cared to share. With any luck, he'd figure prominently in them. Examples that featured him were always the best.

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Heero Yuy
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Doesn't play well with others
"Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Yuy, what can you tell the class about Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine, or RDX, the main ingredient in plastic explosives?"

Heero's attention split from Maxwell's implication that his motivation behind crushing the idiot's fingers was anything but mission-oriented and diverted to the former OZ commander now stalking towards them. His roommate practically growled, bristling at the man. "Yea. That's what I'm gonna use to fucking ki---"

Idiot! Heero silenced the loudmouthed moron by clapping a hand over his mouth, ignoring the murderous glare he received for his efforts. And when Maxwell yanked his hand away and belted out an impressive, memorized textbook definition containing several SAT vocabulary words, Heero stared at him in shock. Good thing they weren't playing Scrabble.

And instead of demanding an explanation for their tardiness and admittedly odd behavior Kushrenada merely nodded, corrected Maxwell on the finer points of his response, and walked to the front of the room. That asshole just exuded overconfidence and arrogance, and it made Heero's skin crawl. Beside him, his roommate was still squirming around like a time-bomb. "Perhaps one of you could tell the class some of the practical applications for explosives used in time of war? I'm sure you both have some riveting experiences you could share from your numerous interactions with OZ or Dekim Barton's ill-considered experiment with army recruitment."

Heero glared hatefully at the instructor. Why didn't he just go ahead and out them as former terrorists to the entire damned college? Christ on a cracker, this guy was ridiculous! Now the entire class had shifted in their seats to turn and get a closer look at the two clowns in the back, and the librarian-chick was doing her damnedest to scoot to another table without being seen. Just wonderful. Heero muttered under his breath as the arrogant prig strode towards his desk, sat with his spit-shined boots propped up on the damned thing, and waited for a response.

As Maxwell was shaking with rage beside him, Wing's former pilot decided to risk answering. He sat back in his chair, fixed Kushrenada with his most loathing glare and spoke. "Explosives of the C-4 plastique variety are useful when attempting to gain entry to heavily-armored facilities to which you have no immediate access. Sometimes it's simply easier to blow the wall off a military base than infiltrate through stealth. C-4 is relatively lightweight versus incendiaries of comparable force, relatively safe to handle, and can me made inexpensively in your own bathroom. It resists impact detonation and will only become volatile when introduced to an environment of extreme heat and some manner of shockwave. Its uses are invaluable in cold weather, wet conditions, or underground, where it is perhaps most effective. It is also makes for an excellent crevice-type bomb when molded into the side of buildings."

Heero arched an eyebrow at Kushrenada and resisted a smirk. "I've heard it's the sort of cheap, readily available explosive that terrorists use on the Colonies. Its attributes were a thorn in OZ's side during the wars. Pity what teenagers can get their hands on these days."

Yeah, he was threatening Treize Kushrenada, in a very underhanded and subtle way. But all this talk of explosions and detonators was getting Heero riled up, and now he was really very curious to see how this whole hellish scenario would play out. If he could manage to get in a few verbal jabs at the man who had tricked him into killing a plane full of pacifist leaders and starting a damned war, and manage to keep Maxwell from gutting the smug bastard, then he would be buying himself a cookie after class.
Edited by Heero Yuy, Sat Dec 5, 2009 6:23 pm.
The Plan
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Duo Maxwell
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Duo was having troubles with this post. he had been thinking for a milanium about how to rite a bad fanfic but, since always he was never good at it. But to him it was a mission and he would carry it out with all he could. He was determind.
While he listen to Hiro's long and intelijent sounded speech Duo stared at Trayz with evil intentions in his violent eyes. it lasted as long as he could stand until he looked away to his partner and thought instead about how sexy he looked when he was talking
tech.
the braided young men grinning to himself when Hiiiro made apparent threats at there enemy. surely the dastardly villain would put down his weapons and run. there was Noone who could stand up to Heros' Death GLare.

yah. He will like to blow something up. Heroo definitly would be nice to blow up.

Of Course c4 was always his weapon of choice. no one could use it better than he could because during the war he was teh master of explosions. he was also the master of gotting throne in jail more then once. He was good at getting out of captivity but he did not really like that bondage as much as the other kind
his thought were distracted by Hirou's hand still holding duo's hand and it caused his fingers to sweat. of course Hirou's warm touch would affect him like that way. Ever since duo had shot his friend he was star struck. he always wanted to tell his young freind that he lusts him, loves him. but he could not because his evil twin Mary was in love for him and Dou did not knoe if he could stay living if his best friend who he actuly loves left him for his twin. Not even quatra would consoul him.
when dou was thinking about his old friend he relized that the word battle among Hiro and Trayz had stopped. this was his perfect opportunity.!!

he noticed that Hero was very suttle in his verble barbs to trayz. Hopefuly his own words were as barblike. haha!!

sighed the young man "yea Treyz" while he took time to examine his flawless fingernails "things are real cheap here. and like even if we do not have a job we can always get what we need other ways. a bomb has a history of ending up when a men like you does not want to see one dont'
they.".
the braided baka looked at his japanese friends chocolate bed head hair and grinning said loudly 'i noticed during the war that a lot of major facilitys were blown up like leader's buildings. it could easy happen to a scool like this. don't you agree, trays???" he scoffed at there treacher and grinned thinking that trayz really had to dress up and talk down to make himself feel better about himself. at least Hiro did not have to compensate for anything like traize. he only wished mary loves treiz and not heerro. they could live hapily evar after .
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Treize Khushrenada
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Trays...I mean Treize...desperately wanted to reply, but was suddenly stricken with an unexplainable desire to rip his own eyes out. Just what the hell was Mr. Maxwell trying to say?

"Perhaps we should stop here a moment, students, and examine what's wrong with everything Mr. Maxwell just said. Let's begin with syntax. Tell me, class, what's wrong with this sentence:

      he had been thinking for a milanium about how to rite a bad fanfic but, since always he was never good at it.

"Can anyone tell me?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. K! He should have said something more like 'He had been thinking for a millenium about how to write a bad fanfic since he'd never been very good at it.' "

"Excellent, Miss Osborne. Now how about this:

      "yea Treyz things are real cheap here. and like even if we do not have a job we can always get what we need other ways. a bomb has a history of ending up when a men like you does not want to see one dont'
they.".


"Mr. Montclaire, why don't you tackle that one?"

"Um, I think the dork was trying to say, 'Yeah, Treize, things are really cheap here. And even if we don't have a job we can always get what we need in other ways. Bombs have a history of ending up where a man like you doesn't want to see one, don't they?' "

"Very good. Now, Miss Blanchett, perhaps instead of falling asleep you could tell us what's wrong with this sentence:

      'i noticed during the war that a lot of major facilitys were blown up like leader's buildings. it could easy happen to a scool like this. don't you agree, trays???"

"I wasn't falling asleep! I was just daydreaming about how awesome it would be to build you a temple and pray to you every day. Maybe a Roman temple, with a Jacuzzi inside, so I could watch you take baths and bring you scented oil. I truly love you and worship you, Mr. Khushrenada! You're the most wonderful man who ever lived! Can I have your baby?"

"Hmm...? Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Blanchett, I wasn't really listening. Mr. Ferguson, why don't you try answering the question?"

"Um...what was the question again?"

"I was asking what's wrong with this sentence: 'i noticed during the war that a lot of major facilitys were blown up like leader's buildings. it could easy happen to a scool like this. don't you agree, trays???"

"Oh. Well, he probably meant to say, 'I noticed during the war that a lot of major facilities were blown up, such as buildings that housed leaders. It could easily happen to a school like this. Don't you agree, Treize?' "

"Well done, Mr. Ferguson. And now I'd like you all to turn to page—"

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnngggg!

Treize was suddenly drowned out by the sound of the bell ringing, which I assume happens in college classrooms just like in high school. In seconds there was a stampede out of the room, almost as if there were places the students would rather be than venerating at Treize's feet.  Preposterous.

"Don't forget to read chapter 2! There will be a quiz tomorrow on the first two chapters."  Hopefully some of the twats heard him in their mad rush to get out the door.

"Well, Mr. Yuy, Mr. Maxwell. I hope you'll take some time off from planting explosives around campus to study for the quiz tomorrow."  He picked up an eraser and began removing all the marker from the board.

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Heero Yuy
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Heero stared at Maxwell as if the guy had turned himself inside out while tap-dancing.

What. The. Fuck?

Swinging his attention back to Kushrenada, he watched the insolent prick stalk through the classroom and demand that the other students correct his idiot roommate's grammar and syntax. Well thank the gods for small favors--someone needed to! Heero was halfway through contemplating the profound meaning in Maxwell's rambling diatribe when the bell rang loudly overhead, inciting a small stampede of weary students for the doors to the lab room.

"Don't forget to read chapter 2! There will be a quiz tomorrow on the first two chapters." Kushrenada's steely gaze seemed to linger on his pupils' retreating backs for a moment, and Heero was damned certain he saw an expression of indignant disgust cross the man's features before he turned away and towards the dry erase board. "Well, Mr. Yuy, Mr. Maxwell. I hope you'll take some time off from planting explosives around campus to study for the quiz tomorrow."

Heero snorted. Of all the asinine things to imply... Ignoring the professor, he grabbed his autism-plagued partner by the arm and dragged him out of the room, cursing under his breath in Japanese. What a horrible beginning to their plan! Now the former OZ general was onto their scheming and they hadn't so much as pulled a fire alarm yet!

"I hope you're proud of that little speech you gave back there, Maxwell," Heero growled, scanning the hallways of the Bidan Lab Building as they maneuvered through students and faculty towards the Quad. "Now that evil mastermind is going to watch us like a hawk. It's going to be damned near impossible to pull off a decent enough prank to get expelled, and that means we're stuck here until we graduate. Deadly British food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next four years. Curfews and random dorm checks and surveillance." Heero turned the corner, practically dragging Maxwell down the hall with him as he muttered angrily at the floor. "It's like living in a gods-forsaken prison! I should have just asked for a war tribunal!"

He needed to find someplace out of the way and quiet to think. He refused to abort this mission because of a complication like the unholy resurrection of Treize Kushrenada, but they would need to plan to circumvent the man's meddling. So how in the name of space was one supposed to distract a maniacal military genius for a semester?

Heero slowed to a stop in the middle of the first-floor corridor, completely oblivious to the other student traffic being forced to divert around he and Maxwell. Of course! If they wanted to keep Kushrenada out of their way, they needed a diversion. And Heero was damned near positive that one Milliardo Peacecraft had been shipped to this hell-hole along with the other pilots. Sure, Heero hated Merquise's guts, but at this point the long-haired psychopath would prove an invaluable asset in their secret war against Treize Kushrenada.

"We need to find Merquise," he said quietly, scanning the hallway once again. Now where would they start this search? "Any ideas?"

The Plan
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