A/N: Well, here it is- my latest plot bunny turned multi-chapter fic. Here's to those wanting a summertime AU read full of exotic lands, adventure, a mystery, and a maybe bit of smut. I will do my best in updating this story (already half-way written and fully planned) once a week throughout the coming summer months. Plot ideas inspired by a book of my childhood, Hardy Boys Casefiles #64.
Some things to know before reading on: I do not claim to be an expert on Africa, the native animals, or the Ngorongoro Conservation Area/Crater, but I have done my research. Aspects of this story are admittedly fudged, like my take on the U.S. Customs & Border Protection (which I also claim little knowledge on) and the existence of Trowa's job title and description throughout. As well, to my knowledge, the 'Compound' mentioned does not exist and is a purely fictitious locale that I have constructed. So, at the rate of not digressing here, we'll all have to try not to get too bogged down in the details.
Warnings: [Eventual] mild violence, mention of fictitious animal poaching/death, mild language, M/M lime/lemon, and general adult situations.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is a product of Sunrise & Bandai Entertainment, I do not claim ownership to these characters, only to my own words.
Down In Africa
Chapter 1: Five O'Clock Touchdown
The woman sitting across from him was speaking, her voice serious, her demeanor stiff as usual, her glossed lips pursed as she eyed him after every few words searching for some kind of reaction. He gave none, and most likely wouldn't the entire briefing; he was not known to be easily read by anyone.
Trowa Barton was having a difficult time focussing on her words as the protocols for the U.S. Customs & Border Protection had been ingrained in his brain, tattooed there over the five years he'd served as an agent. He found himself releasing a sigh and rather wished that he had not been recently entrusted with the new title of Investigative Agent and longed- for a brief second- for a frontline, rookie job at an airport or border patrol. He realized that this was counterproductive thinking- he was almost overqualified for this new position, even so he had accepted the duties with as much pride as he could muster. At least undercover operations proved to be somewhat interesting.
And hell, he was good at it. His entire life he'd been able to integrate himself seamlessly wherever he went, going unnoticed by most in school, in his many foster homes, at university, and then finally with the CBP. But his skills within the agency were hard to overlook, he had an aptitude for test taking and rose within the ranks quite easily, even if that hadn't been his initial intention. But at least the investigatory field offered him the option of disappearing from most anyone's radar- at least for a little while as long as he kept up with his comm reports.
Commander Une was finishing a sentence that was so familiar to him he found it trickling straight in one ear and out the other. She paused, as she had done after every other natural stopping place, and she herself let out a sigh of exasperation.
"What do you know about animal smuggling, Barton?" the woman asked. Finally she was onto the root of his next mission, past the mandatory protocol and onto something he could actually start to sink his teeth into.
Trowa shrugged his broad shoulders, the stiff fabric of his dress shirt pulling against lean muscles. "There's an illegal market. Skins, ivory, anything of immense resale value."
Une looked at him and nodded, only able to make contact with one green eye as the other was hidden behind a shroud of golden bangs. "It's a multi-billion dollar market."
She turned in her swivel chair to tap against a flatscreen monitor behind her. After a moment of blackness came the previously recorded image of a large, gray beast crashing frantically through a tuft of grasses and deadened bushes. Its thick ivory tusks curved slightly upwards towards the elephant's panic filled eyes. Behind the animal came shouting and a language Trowa attempted to recognize, a group of men in khaki garb chasing after their prey, rifles in all of their gloved hands. Half a dozen shots later the chase was over, red blood spouting from the wounds that littered the animal's thick, leathery skin. The elephant fell to the ground and Trowa found himself looking away, but still not allowing any emotion to register on his features.
"You'll be traveling to the Ngorongoro Conservation Area in the Arusha Region of Tanzania," Une went on to explain, trying her best to also ignore the way the video had produced a feeling of sickness in the air between the two. "There you'll be posing as a new hire for the Po Animal & Nature Compound. It's a wild-animal research facility and hospital run by renowned doctor, Sally Po. Animals from around the world are sent to her because many zoos and nature preserves just can't meet the level of care she can provide."
Trowa nodded along with the explanation, calculating the way Une had spoken of the doctor and filing away the thought that Po may have been a suspect for the CBP, but she was not near the top of the list. He'd been to Africa once before, but South Africa- a place much different than where he would soon find himself. He rolled his shoulders once and realized somewhat happily that he'd at least be able to retire the ill-fitting attire he was forced to wear to work while stationed in the states and not out on assignment. It's the little things, he had to continually remind himself.
"Where did you receive this footage?" Trowa waved a long length of fingers at the screen that had now gone black again.
He watched as Une's face hardened. "It was shot by one of our other agents only a few weeks ago near the Ngorongoro Crater, Zechs Merquise." Her frown deepened then. "It was received just before he- disappeared."
There it was, the real reason for his presence in Une's office, for the suddenness of the new assignment, for the long and overdrawn briefing. He'd heard of Merquise before, knew of him as a senior agent in the investigative sector, but had never been formally introduced. Trowa remembered an image of the man, cold blue eyes, straight silvery-blond hair that hung long down his stiff back. Merquise was attractive in a mature sort of way; if someone had asked him directly, he might have admitted to that.
"He's missing. Nothing else to go on?" Trowa wondered, absently staring at the table between them.
"Not much," Une responded quickly. "He was posing as a photojournalist, so heavily undercover that we did not want to go poking around and lose any of the ground he had gained us."
It was a very diplomatic way of looking at things. The man could be laying dead out in the middle of the Sahara but, for the sake of the mission, they were just going to send Trowa in to pick up where the other agent left off. If he ran across Merquise then all the better, but it was obviously not priority number one.
Trowa inclined his head, but did not respond because there was not much to actually be said. It made sense, as an agent he understood, and he figured if Merquise were alive somewhere then he'd already conceded to the fact that he was now on his own and that would be, as well, understood by him. There was this tiny, near imperceptible desire to find Merquise and wrap the investigation simply in order to throw it back in the agency's arrogant face.
"You'll need a few additional immunizations and medications," Une was explaining, having moved past briefing and onto the extra details of his assignment. "Once you arrive in Arusha you'll meet with Agent Kushrenada, he's who you'll be reporting to while in the NCA."
Trowa felt himself cringe inwardly. Just as he knew of Agent Merquise, Kushrenada was someone he'd heard stories of, but unlike Merquise, that information was not as praising. He didn't want to report to anyone aside from maybe Commander Une, normally he did his undercover ops on his own, cut off from the CBP save for a few intermittent reports over an encrypted server.
The distaste must have registered on his face, much to his discomfort, as Une gave him a soft, almost apologetic smile. Perhaps she thought she'd offended him- which might not have actually been far from the truth.
"You'll still be working primarily on your own. Kushrenada is stationed in Arusha- where he will stay," said Une. "The only other people you'll run into are Dr. Po, her staff, and the Ngorongoro Conservation Area Authority- but the Rangers should be nothing more than a helpful wealth of knowledge about the area."
Trowa felt somewhat relieved by the news and responded with another nod of understanding. Une dismissed him then with a quick "good luck" and an order to report to the infirmary for his pre-assignment check-up and immunizations. In a few short hours he would be on a plane crossing the Atlantic, the solitude of travel affording him plenty of time to prepare himself for his newest persona and perhaps to brush up on his Swahili.
The Arusha Airport was small to say the least. A few runways, a short control tower, and a single terminal that was labeled 'Arusha Airport HTAR' atop its roof in yellow paint. The plane that Trowa had taken into the country had been small as well, only a handful of other passengers alongside him, though the trip hadn't been too harrowing; he'd been in a two-seater during a torrential rainstorm, so this had seemed like nothing more than a pleasant joy-ride.
Trowa slung a camel-colored duffel over his shoulder and exited the plane onto the tarmac and into Tanzania's sticky air, it was at least eighty-degrees with even higher humidity, the sun beating against his face, though the slight breeze he felt rush over his skin made it feel more tolerable than the stuffy cabin he'd just been occupying.
He'd packed only the essentials, clothing consisting of some t-shirts, work pants, and shorts he'd had from other missions set in even more sweltering locales. He was wearing a very innocuous outfit of olive and khaki, the only thing remotely standing out were his worn, orange trainers; he'd brought boots with him as well, but the trip in hadn't called for that level of attire.
His cover was as a recent university grad who'd studied biology- it hadn't been much of a lie either, he had the degree to prove it. How he'd ended up at the CBP he still wasn't quite sure, but it paid good money and the benefits were apparently great though he didn't really pay much attention. But in the end such a degree had afforded him some prime undercover assignments, so he really couldn't complain.
Trowa had been told that Kushrenada would meet him in the terminal and then from there he would be picked up by someone from the Compound and that would be when his mission truly began.
He made his way inside, the heat lessening only slightly in the shade that the building provided; there was no central air unit, only a few swamp coolers placed strategically around the room that was littered with fifty-or-so mismatched plastic chairs for passengers to occupy while waiting to board their flights. There were several decrepit looking television monitors set up near each gate's exit door that were set on news channels- some in English while others were in the country's other native language of Swahili.
Trowa glanced around trying his best to blend in with the rest of the departing passengers, though most were of African descent, so that was harder than it seemed. There were a few tourists milling around though and he committed to the idea that he fit into that category, as being an 'undercover customs agent' in an unfamiliar country probably wouldn't go over too well.
He had nothing to declare and then got his forged passport stamped. It took only a moment before he saw the man he was supposed to be making contact with.
Kushrenada was tall, and that was saying something considering Trowa's own 6'3" height, he wore nondescript clothing as well, but had distinctive, forked eyebrows resting heavily above thoughtful eyes as he caught Trowa's vision from across the waiting area.
Trowa swallowed and walked towards the man, his steps slow and casual. They greeted each other with a nod and then Kushrenada's lips pulled back into a smile. "They said it would rain tomorrow."
"You can't trust the weatherman, not in the summer," Trowa muttered back. He despised these useless countersigns that the CBP made their agents use.
Kushrenada's smile grew slicker. "It's good it will be autumn soon, then, eh Barton?"
Trowa growled at that, annoyed that the man had blatantly used his real last name instead of the code-name Une had assigned him; agents were all allowed to keep their first names, but last names were frequently adjusted depending on assignment. According to Une, Kushrenada wasn't technically on an undercover op, but it gave the man no right to out him to any listening ears so blatantly. He knew the older man was testing him, or perhaps just messing with him, but it still made his fingers clench into fists at his sides.
"I'm sorry, Bloom," Kushrenada amended, his eyes twinkling with a harmless amusement that Trowa could not comprehend.
Already having had enough of this man, Trowa shook his head. "Alright, just get on with it. I'm supposed to be picked up here soon for the Compound."
"Eager, are we?" Kushrenada countered, but then seemed to sober at the glare that Trowa shot straight through him. "Fine then. I've just got some intel- you'll be spending much of your time with Po, she runs the Compound as I'm sure you've been informed."
"Anything I need to know?" Trowa grunted.
The other man shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "Dr. Sally Po, born in Tanzania, her father was Chinese, her mother Australian. They were wildlife enthusiasts- I suppose that's where she got it. Studied in America, Europe, some Asian countries, all the places to garner contacts for animal smuggling."
Trowa's brows furrowed as he remembered how highly Une had spoken of the woman compared to the accusations Kushrenada was now making. "If saving animals is her career I can't imagine she'd have much of a substantial motive."
Kushrenada let out a bark of a laugh. "Money, kid, that's all the motive anyone needs. At least that's what Merquise and I had come up with so far."
Trowa flinched at being labeled a 'kid' by the man he was slowly becoming disgusted with. He was twenty-six years old, held a degree from a prominent university and a high-ranking position within the CBP; he was hardly a damn kid.
He tried to shake off the feeling of repulsion and change the subject back towards the intel he might actually need to do his job convincingly. "Does Dr. Po run the facility on her own?"
Kushrenada shook his head. "She's got a lot of help actually, mostly students like you're going to be, or else just hired hands. She's got a right-hand man though, Chang I think is his name."
Trowa logged that identity away for later use, he'd be meeting all of these people soon enough and if he had some sort of a leg up then he'd be able to slip in easily and get to work on the true assignment at hand.
He was going to continue on with another inquiry, but then Kushrenada was lowering his chin and waving a hand towards the glass doors on the other side from them where there was a small carport. Trowa turned slightly to see that an old truck had just pulled up, the words 'Po Animal & Nature Compound' stenciled on the side, though most of it was covered in mud and dirt.
"Just remember your reports, kid," Kushrenada muttered in his ear before disappearing out of a back emergency exit door leaving Trowa to officially begin his assignment.
Trowa stood for another minute simply watching the truck from his slightly obscured position. The passenger door opened and down hopped a man that wasn't any older than himself, but couldn't have been more opposite in appearance. He wore a pair of ragged, charcoal cargo shorts, dusty black combat boots, and a khaki linen shirt left open over a white tank-top that had seen better days. The clothing fit his lean frame and managed to show just a hint of tanned pectoral muscles and black ink on his skin. His chestnut hair was long, longer than even that of Merquise's, and tied back into a braid that swayed behind him as he walked with a sort of confident swagger that Trowa had never seen before. There was a damp looking red kerchief folded and tied around his neck and he wore a pair of amber aviators that, when removed as he entered into the terminal, revealed a pair of inquisitive indigo eyes.
Trowa nearly forgot where he was, what he was doing, what the parameters of his mission were until the other man walking towards him with a large grin spoke. "Hey, you Trowa Bloom?"
Trowa blinked, annoyed at himself for becoming so oddly disoriented. He nodded his head a few times and readjusted the duffle on his shoulder. He watched the other man's lips morph into something more like a smirk.
"Name's Duo Maxwell- I work at the Compound with Dr. Po. It's nice to meet ya." The man thrust out a hand and Trowa took it, held firmly to the rough palm for a brief second, and then released suddenly unsure of why Duo was still smirking at him.
Trowa swallowed and then his eyes drifted to the carport. "Dr. Po?" he wondered, tilting his head towards the blonde woman currently sitting behind the wheel of the still running pick-up truck.
Duo, his stare finally leaving Trowa's face to see where he was gesturing, nodded and gave him a wave. "Yeah, that's the doc. C'mon- the sooner we get back the sooner we can eat."
Trowa had barely noticed that the sun had begun its descent, sliding below the horizon. He followed the man out towards the truck, having to fight back the urge to reach out and grab the infuriating braid that swung in front of him like a pendulum. He could never understand why anyone would want hair that long, especially someone who spent their livelihood in a climate such as Africa's.
Duo turned to him as they walked through the glass doors and back into the muggy air. "Normally you wouldn't get Sally as part of your welcoming committee, but we had to pick up some supplies from Arusha, so you lucked out man."
He stood back as Duo grabbed at his only piece of luggage, not bothering to ask, and then placed it in the truck's bed along with a few crates and canvas bags of what Trowa assumed were the supplies just mentioned.
Duo wrenched open the passenger door and then turned to Trowa with an appraising look. "Here," he hooked his thumb towards the open door. "You take shot-gun. You're legs are way too long to be comfortable in the back."
Trowa wondered vaguely why this new acquaintance would even consider his comfort as they had literally just met, but upon observing the genuine smile and realizing that they were about six inches different in height, Trowa silently agreed and hauled himself into the passenger side, while Duo scrambled through the smaller door to the backseat of the cab.
The woman sitting in the driver's seat was skimming over a stack of papers in her hands and then- only after she was finished reading- did she turn to Trowa. She was younger than he'd assumed she would be, her face tanned from spending days in the sun, her honey-blonde hair pulled into a side-braid that matched Duo's own, except in length. She smiled at him warmly and he could see a sincerity in her almond shaped gray-blue eyes.
"I'm Dr. Po, but everyone around the Compound just calls me Sally." She then thrust the stack of papers and articles she'd been looking over into his hands- no friendly handshake like he'd received from Duo, which he decided that he was okay with.
Sally put the truck in drive. "We've got a two hour drive back home- a rough one- that explains some of what we do at the Compound. Familiarize yourself with it as I plan on putting you straight to work tomorrow morning."
The words had come out like an order, but the grin had never left her face. Trowa nodded and he heard a chuckle filter up from behind him. Duo leaned his head forward and rested his forearms against the shoulders of the seats in front of him as the truck pulled away- quicker than Trowa had been expecting.
"You don't talk much do ya? You ever say more than two words, Tro?"
Duo laughed and Trowa found himself hastening to remember the last time anyone had ever not used his full name before. He felt as though, given his character, he should be annoyed by it, but for some reason he didn't mind.
He turned then to face Duo straight on. "Yes. Often. But probably not as much as you."
The blush that flamed the other man's cheeks made Trowa realize the humor in what he had actually just said out loud. Well this was a first, Trowa Barton: the comedian.
Beside him Sally had fallen into a bout of laughter herself. She turned her eyes from the road for a second to meet his own, still serious, gaze. "I think you're going to fit in with us just fine, Trowa."
For the duration of the trip Trowa found himself engrossed in the research and articles that Sally had previously granted him with, his background in biology already coming in handy when reading some of the zoological journals. Duo Maxwell didn't say another word, probably just tired from the day's excursion, but still Trowa wondered at the silence.
If he angled himself just right he was able to make out Duo's features reflected in the truck's dusty side-mirror distracting him every so often from his studies.
