Chapter One - Run


Quatre ran through the woods on light feet. He broke through the silence of the night, his feet shuffling, barely breaking through the solidifying snow. He took pains to stay light and swift and the rivulets of sweat that broke away from his face began to chill his skin. It was too cold to keep his pace for much longer, but he was still too close.

It had been a long time since the Preventers had called him in for a mission. They had let him lead his sedentary life as the Winner heir. He had hated it, but no one else could do what he could do. He was the CEO of one of the largest and most influential businesses and he still had his compassionate heart and strong sense of right and wrong. Under his leadership Winner Enterprises flourished and expanded as the most sustainable and socially responsible company. He donated large sums of money to orphans, he funded and led large restoration projects, he went to battle with other unethical companies and came out victorious. He sat at his desk and signed papers and he went around the world and built buildings with his own two hands. He knew he was doing the right thing and he had never felt worse.

Slowly, but surely, he was beginning to gain weight. His times in gyms were becoming less frequent and everyday he grew just that much more jaded. Quatre Winner was turning into a bitter old man trapped in the body of a 25-year-old. Everyday there was some businessman who wanted world capitalist domination. Every day he met with sharks who would take him as chum. He needed an iron hand, a silken tongue, and a snake's venom. Every day he wondered where have the righteous gone?

His friends in the Preventers couldn't understand. They only called on him for planning or tactical genius. He never did field work and he never got to beat the bad guys anymore. The bad guys were in his own backyard, in his own company, and usually in his everyday meetings. All he could do was compromise. He knew that every day he made a difference on a large scale, but somehow, there was never that revolution. One by one, his friends could no longer deal with his public facade. No one needed him on a personal level anymore and he built himself up till he needed no one.

Quatre's breath began to come in short desperate pants. His chapped lips parted and left little clouds of fog. He had needed this mission to try and restore who he once was. No man was an island and he was no exception. He wanted to speak with his friends and leave the business out of life. This mission was his chance to be one of them again. All he had to do was make it to the rendezvous. The Preventers had needed him for this mission. They had needed his public facade to dupe these terrorists into giving their secrets away. He entered under the guise of investing and stole all the data of their computers.

Leighton's was a newly thriving arms dealer and everything they did was legal. Theoretically, they made weapons to keep the peace of the people and were constantly under the Preventer eye. No one wanted peace as much as the Preventers. However, the company grew too fast and corruption spread. Someone came forth and explained that the weapons were initially designed to help, but now they were moving away from guns to mind altering drugs. The experiments were top secret and cruel. After this revelation, their contact passed away under what was deemed "natural causes". Under the public eye, there was no connection to Leighton's and the Preventers needed some silent information.

If Quatre were to truly support the company as a pacifist supporting peace, Leighton's would thrive and be untouchable. That was the ruse to get their information. However, the Winner Heir's arrival was still suspicious and he was under tight watch. He had managed to get the information unseen. Now all he had to do was make it to the rendezvous. Once the Preventers knew the truth they would be able to storm in and shut the company down. Quatre's part would be kept a secret so that they could use the ruse again. He could be active again.

Quatre swallowed hard as he dodged another branch. His heart was pounding and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. His chest heaved and Quatre just needed a second to re-adjust his mind. Without stopping, Quatre blinked hard, willing his body to keep the pace. If he kept this pace he could make it to the rendezvous in another hour and they could be gone by daybreak. Preventers victory would be complete and their judgment swift.

From one heartbeat to the next Quatre's body pitched forward. His leg convulsed and he fell under the roots of a tree. In pitch blackness, he groped towards the moonlight, pulling roots to scramble out of the hole. The snow tumbled and still Quatre fought. This was what he needed. This was the old days. With another mighty heave his body gave out. One more spasm, one more breath, one more grasp at the opening, before unconsciousness folded him into her arms.


Sunlight streamed through the hole. The forest a new place in the daylight. In his sleep, Quatre turned his face toward the sun. The light filtered through his lids and the blurry dawn changed to swift clarity. Quatre failed his mission.

Jerking up with alarm Quatre scrambled to see out of the hole. He carefully peered through the roots to see if he was being pursued. Nothing. His mind was still fogged with sleep and as he watched for would be pursuers his soldier's instincts began to pick up. It would seem that the warmth of the sun had erased all traces of the snow. The lush leaves unfurled , the pines out of his frame of vision and thick soft grass in the forefront. Sweat beaded on his forehead and Quatre inhaled the sweet fragrance of nature. The heat sat heavily upon him. He was in the wrong forest.

Climbing carefully out of the hole he looked around. There was no snow. The pines he could see were far and away. The trees were no longer bare of foliage and everything was full, overgrown, and large. This forest was tropical. Confused, Quatre checked his pocket for the data stick. This may be one of the mind altering experiments and that would mean he was caught. He carefully pulled out the slim metal piece, no bigger than a stick of gum, and brushed a pale hand over the surface. Once he established that yes, he still had it he put it away in the right breast pocket of his top, closed the flap and began exploring.

Everything is too large. He was now staring at a man-eating plant. A real one. It looked like a simple pitcher plant, only it was huge. It was not something you could accidentally lay down and die in, but it was large. If he took the fetal position he could easily fit inside and the chemicals would break him down. Quatre picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the plant to see the reacton. For a pitcher plant, the reaction was instantaneous. The lid fell with a slapping noise and the pitcher plant closed. Trying hard not to panic Quatre carefully inched away and continued his trek.

don't panic, don't panic, don't panic. Quatred chanted the mantra in his head. He was a tactical genius for heaven's sake. He should be able to figure out where he was and what to do. He looked at his watch and tried to read the compass. According to his watch, he was everywhere at 4:35 a.m. This only gave way to more panic that Quatre stamped down with brutal fury. He already knew something was wrong and the watch wasn't helping.

I'll have to keep going in this direction and see where it leads. I really hope I'm not drugged. This was as positive as Quatre could be. He took a deep breath and bit the inner corner of his lips. It was a sign of frustration that no camera could detect. He was in control.

Like he always was.

*snap*

I'M IN CONTROL Quatre's mind bellowed as he twisted around, gun in hand. Someone or something was moving through the forest. Inching forward he moved to see what was in the clearing and...

"TROWA!" relief flooded his senses.

"TROWA, OH GOD! Where are we I'm so sorry I -"

It took a moment to register that someone gave him a mean swing to the jaw. He looked up and was ready to tear a strip of his assailant.

"What the f-! WuFei. God, what's wrong with you I'm sorry I -!" He turned to look at Trowa and apparently, that was a mistake. WuFei, faster than Quatre remembered, landed another solid right hook to his cheek before pinning Quatre to the ground.

"How dare you look our lord in the face? Bow down before him and beg so that he may spare your pitiful life!" Wufei was surprised that the fair creature had such fight in him. Even held against the ground in front of Lord Trowa he struggled to break free. Wufei grabbed the arm that broke free and once again moved to hold the boy's head to the ground. Stubborn little bastard was stronger than his slight frame belied. With a grunt and a heave the boy slipped free of WuFei's hold and the slim form danced backwards.

"Hold, WuFei." intercepted Lord Trowa as WuFei once again tried to subdue the waif. Didn't this creature understand that WuFei was trying to save his life?

"Boy. What is your name?" WuFei did not dare look at his lord. He knew that his lord was intrigued by the beauty before them. WuFei himself was startled by the blonde. Instead WuFei focused his gaze in on the boy, demanding that the foolish thing run. With a confused and horrified glance at himself and his master the boy fled.

"Master? Should we proceed to the Pal-?" His lord raised his hand to silence him and WuFei could have wept.

"The boy. I want him." His lord rumbled, "I will catch him. Fool thing thinks he can escape." Wufei bowed in acquiescence and remained in his servile stance while listening to the crackling noises. Lord Trowa was going to hunt. With a final pop Lord Trowa showered his entourage in bits of flesh torn from his back. His wings glistened in the light, still covered in bits of stubborn skin. Wufei did not raise his head even when he felt his lord's shadow pass over them. He sighed in defeat. He had tried to save the boy, it was out of his hands now.


Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! What the hell was that? Quatre berated himself as he ran. He was definitely out of practice. He couldn't believe that he didn't notice that that was not Trowa and WuFei. He needed to get back to the hole. He needed to hide. He needed time to think. This must have been a trap and this was an experiment. Not that it mattered he just needed cover to hide.

Pitcher plants again! Going the right way! No matter what, Quatre tried not to panic. He knew that psuedo-Trowa was chasing after him, without looking back. He just knew.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Quatre should have been more aware from the beginning. Trowa was larger too. and he had horns! Tiny, and barely visible along his hairline, but they were definitely there. Sure, that may not have been the dead give away, but the freakishly sharp claws and partial nudity should have been. Quatre pushed his legs farther and harder. It was a foolish mistake, one that he would never have made when he was 17. He was definitely getting past his prime and he could feel it in his lungs as he pushed to reach the hole he crawled out from. He didn't have to look up to know that the shadow circling him was freak-Trowa's. Even in his state of panic he tried to stick to covered areas so that there was no landing room. At least, he hadn't lost all his wits-Hole!

This time, instead of falling in, he dove. Instead of trying to claw out he clawed deeper. Dirt! Dirt! Dirt! That's all there was. Again, there was that presence and Quatre knew he was running out of time. He could here casual steps approaching. Alright! This is the situation you've got. Time to make-do. With a swiftness that he hadn't used for the past seven years he shucked of his shirt, wrapped the data stick and buried it. He turned to see if he could flee and only had seconds to acknowledge his mistake.

Beast-Trowa had grabbed him by his collar-bone, claw piercing his flesh like a warm knife threw soft ice-cream. As he was ripped from the burrow, he had time for one more thought before the pain stole away his consciousness, I failed the mission.


End

Thank you for reading.