Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.
This story is a concept I came up with a while ago, and recently found. I'm just editing and posting as I go along, so no, this won't stop the updates of "When Memories Die" for anyone who reads that as well.
WARNING: This story is rated M for good reason. It includes graphic violence, NC sex, slavery, drugs, torture, and a lot of content that you SHOULD NOT READ unless you are of an appropriate age! PLEASE, if you are easily offended by these things, then do not continue!
Pairings include: (for this chapter) 1x2, possible 6x1, 3x5x4, and UnexNoin.
THIS STORY IS TWISTED! You have been warned!

Chapter 1
The First Blow


"Isn't it such a beautiful day out, Trowa?" the small blond wondered, gazing up to the early morning sky. Clouds flittered across the large expanse, flirting with the sun and the slowly rising beams to produce marvelous hues of reds and blues. Stepping behind his beautiful angel, the tall European slipped his arms around his shoulders.

"It's gorgeous," he murmured, but he never looked at the sky. Instead, his eyes stayed glued to the shining blond hair, freshly washed and smelling oh-so-sweet. Quatre could tell that stare never left him, and he cast a sweet smile up to him as he giggled softly, turning in his arms to face him.

"You weren't looking at the sky," accused the Arabian teasingly. Trowa just shrugged, nuzzling their noses together.

"I have better things to look at," he whispered, pulling the body taught against his, burying his face into the soft pillar of his neck. Nipping at the pale flesh, he gave a soft growl rose as the smell of the Arabian intoxicated him. "Mine," he hissed, causing Quatre to once again give a lilting, happy laugh. Joy filled the blond boy as he snuggled into him, tilting his head to the side to give him more access. Wrapping his arms around the lean waist, he melted into the body, memorizing every detail of how perfectly they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Cheek pressed against cheek, they let themselves remain like that, bathed in the warmth of the rising sun through the window. Memories of the war flitted through both of their minds, as if they were connected by more than just their embrace. They recalled the fear of losing one another in battle, and how hard they fought to have this. To be able to have these peaceful, lazy mornings filled with warmth, comfort, and love. To be able to possess such perfection.

The silence was broken when the door to the bedroom opened, Wufei stepping through tiredly and rubbing at his eyes. Still dressed in his Preventers' uniform, his hair was loose and threatening to come out of the ponytail, his eyes drooping and body looking stiff and knotted. Trowa watched him from over one shoulder, brows knotting with worry as Quatre peeked around him from the other side to view the entrance of their other lover.

"Wufei!" he chided, "Why were you out so late? I thought you had come home and gone to sleep in a guest room!" It wasn't uncommon to find the dragon alone and unconscious, having wandered in late and not wanting to disturb the other two, or just needing his space. Dashing out from Trowa's arms, he ran to Wufei worriedly, cupping his face with one hand, the other stroking back the loose locks of black hair.

"I know," the Chinese boy replied, nuzzling the touch and pulling him close. Quatre sighed and opened his mouth to talk.

"Well?" Trowa broke in before Quatre could. "You know he won't give up till he finds out where you were, who you were with, if you're injured, have you eaten, if so, what and how long ago, and how long it's been since you've slept." Wufei began laughing, Trowa smiling as he teased the small boy who turned to poke an indignant tongue out at the acrobat. Walking around, Trowa slid his arms over Wufei's shoulders, his long limbs able to encompass both of his precious lovers.

"I was at the Preventers' headquarters because I found a break in a case and needed to research it before I lost the lead. I was with Zechs and Noin, all of us slaving over the documents, per usual. I'm not injured, besides a few paper cuts, but those won't kill me if blowing myself up hasn't yet, I haven't eaten since I woke up but I've drank tea and orange juice, and I haven't slept since I woke up yesterday," Wufei said in a matter-of-fact tone, staring down to their smaller lover to see his expression. Quatre's mouth opened as he searched for another question to ask, but it closed again. Opened, closed. Casting a glare at Trowa, he realized he had been pinned just right. Except for one question….

"What was the lead for the case?" Quatre wondered, stroking a finger down his chest. Wufei shuddered at the gentle touch, letting his legs give out, knowing that Trowa would support him. It felt so good to be home, thoroughly sandwiched between the two men he loved more than he had ever thought possible. A small smile traced his lips as the tension seeped out of his shoulders. Without realizing what he was doing, he lightly nuzzled the strong arms of Trowa, his hands caressing Quatre's lower back.

"On a drug and slave cartel," he replied, stifling a yawn. "I think we can get some of the major players, but we have to move out tonight. I came back to take a shower and catch two, three hours of sleep, and then we all have to go to headquarters to get briefed and then prepare. We have a mission." Trowa and Quatre looked at each other, worried about the dragon's health, but before they could voice their concerns, Wufei broke in with something else. "Except for you and Duo," he stated, looking to the blond.

Quatre's eyes went wide when he realized what he said was directed to him. Pulling away huffily, he glared at him with a mix of confusion and insult, wondering why they would exclude him and the braided wonder from any mission. Quatre was the best at tactical maneuvers that they had, and more than once had saved the team's collective ass by bailing them out of sticky situations. And Duo, despite his seeming carelessness, was the best sharpshooter and pilot they had!

"Why?" Quatre demanded, chin raising a bit, showing the attitude, strength, and stubbornness of the entire Winner family line. Wufei slumped. He had seen this coming from the moment they made the decision.

"Because," Wufei said tiredly. "You match the profiles of those who have been taken and killed. If they get even a glimpse at you, you two will be targets. We can't protect you if they attack." His voice was pleading, filled with fear at the thought of his lover being killed…or worse. The organization they were up against was infamous for its slave trade, and he couldn't bare the thought of his lover being tortured the way the other victims were. Swallowing hard, he lifted nervous black eyes to the blond, begging with his gaze for Quatre just to stay home. He had such a bad feeling about this mission, and he didn't want Quatre's pride to get in the way of the boys own intuition.

"You know Duo and I won't settle for this," the blond explained. "You either take us with, or we go on our own, and you know we'll do it." Quatre crossed his arms over his chest, confirming what Wufei feared. There was the pride. Grinding his teeth, both he and Trowa knew there was no way to deter the two. They were going to go, whether anyone else liked it or not. At least if they went with them, they'd be able to keep their eyes on the two.

"Be careful," Wufei whispered, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him back into his embrace. Leaning forward, he brushed a gentle kiss across his lips. "I just don't want to lose you." Quatre smiled, snuggling underneath his chin and purring contentedly.

"I have faith in you, Fei. Faith in you and Trowa…even Heero and Duo. If anything happens, I know you'll come for me," he said, giving him another sweet kiss. Trowa's hand rested on the blonde's shoulder, stroking down his arm, voice soft as he spoke.

"We'll always com for you angel. Always."

oOoOo

"Quatre online. Communications working?"

"Check."

"Wufei online. Communications working?"

"Check."

"Trowa online. Communications working?"

"Check."

"Zechs online. Communications working?"

"Check."

"Heero online. Communications working?"

"Check."

"Duo, god of death, aroused and ready. Can you hear me now?"

Each pilot blinked as they heard Duo's voice, Quatre suppressing a giggle. Leave it to Duo to break the tension they felt as they slid into their space suits and jets, running communication checks. It took a moment but ground control finally shook their shock.

"Check. Opening hanger doors. All personnel prepare for vacuum."

"Well," Duo said, the smile clear in his voice as he glanced to the others through his jets windows. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm excited. I've got a personal score to settle with these bastards," he laughed. Quatre glanced over to him, his own stomach knotting nervously as he studied the others in the confines of the Preventers orbital base. They were all lined up in the hanger in three sets of two, all ready to head out in their uniformed pattern. Something in him told him that perhaps…perhaps Wufei had been right.

"And what is that?" Heero asked.

"These are the ones in charge of the L2 drug trade…you don't think we know each other?" Duo replied.

Those words caused Wufei to feel sick as he released a shaky breath. He shouldn't have let those two come out here. He had a horrible dream from Meiran, begging him to not let them go. But, being the idiot he was, he didn't acknowledge it. He tried to shrug it off…after all, Duo and Quatre were two of their best fighters. Even if they were captured….

His thoughts were interrupted when the hangar door slid open, Duo and Heero's jets lurching out into the void of space. Wufei wasn't able to let his mind trail any longer, he and Zechs following out mere seconds behind, pressing hard on the speed to catch up, followed by Quatre and Trowa. The six pilots went into formation, allowing their emotions to shut down and their soldier to come out as they had been trained to do. In the darkness of space, Earth standing between them and the sun, Duo let violet orbs cast over to Heero's plain. Suddenly, he had the most irrational surge of fear that he would never see those cobalt eyes again…He knew he was being stupid, but still…

Each pilot centered their concentration on the mission, knowing they couldn't screw up for danger of getting themselves killed or injured. Or worse—captured. The organization they were attacking this day was something that called itself "God", a group that sold drugs and slaves, as well as ran the largest prostitution ring that extended out from all the colonies to nearly every region on Earth. And it was well known that many of the God clients went to those prostitutes for sex, knowing that with those who they bought, they could literally do anything wanted. Even kill them. For a price.

Not having been able to get too much information, they did know that the head of the operation, a man who called himself "Master", was at the base they were going to. A small colony which the organization had bought a few years back was now home to their main operations, and it was their mission to go and blow it up. If the Master was in there, they had to make sure he was dead. Trowa gripped his controls a bit tighter, all of them flying in perfect unison and perfect silence.

"Target in view," came Heero's emotionless voice. "Prepare to engage." Each pilot then began typing in codes, guns coming out into view as the missiles prepared themselves to launch. They unlocked their safety on the triggers, and each readied themselves for a fight.

"We've been spotted. 12 fighter jets emerging from enemy base," came Zechs' voice over the communications link. Quatre had the irrational urge to whimper. He was suddenly terrified, a feeling of panic setting into his soul like something he had never experienced before. But he forced it away, trying so hard not to let his emotions get in the way of what he was doing. Though it was impossible—the fear still hovered in the back of his mind like a ghost with unfinished business.

The silence of space hovered around them, the only sound a light bit of static from the headphones. They made their way closer as the enemy planes came in, progressing at minimum speed as if assessing their odds. Zechs' gnawed his lip, taking in a deep breath to calm himself. Everything was quiet, the white haired man realized. Quiet and calm…too much so, in fact. Rolling his eyes at himself, he forced aside his thoughts. Trieze would have laughed at him, if he were alive, reminding him to take weapons into battle, not his symbolic, poetic mind. Still, he felt a chill as everything seemed to move in slow motion, both sides at a stand still as they stared down.

Duo glanced over to his comrades before giving out an annoyed huff, his trademark grin pulling the corners of his lips. Why was everyone sitting around like that? Deciding that he had waited long enough for this moment, he gave out a whoop which caught the other's attention, making them jump.

"Come on! What're we waiting for!" he suddenly cried out. "Let's get this Shindig started! WOO!" The yell seemed to spur them into action, the six breaking formation as Duo, self-proclaimed Shinigami, god of Death, went straight for three of them. As if all triggered by some sort of invisible button that made toys on display move around, every fighter began the intricate dance of a battle, avoiding bullets of their enemy while trying to shoot them down.

And the enemy wasn't so hard to defeat. For the Gundam Boys, as well as Zechs, had all been raised and trained in war, whereas these were just mercenaries and drug addicts, better trained in ground combat than engaging in space. As Wufei took place to shoot his missile at the base, Quatre saw something deploying from the backside of the station. Moving in to view better, he felt his eyes go wide and his mouth drop. People. Dressed in red space suits, they swarmed out like fire ants, dispersing and moving invisibly off into the darkness. Confusion overwhelmed him as he saw the small forms pouring out…about fifteen of them, maybe more. At first he couldn't understand, but his gut screamed the answer.

"A trap," Quatre rasped, barely able to find his breath. Panic was clear in his tone, the usually calm pilot overcome with the agonizing realization that Wufei was right. They shouldn't have come here…. While the others were distracted with the battle, there were people—most likely soldiers deploying from the other end. And he watched in horror as they seemed to make there way towards the battle. Men dressed in the most recent technology of space suits, their propeller packs most likely run by clear flame. They were nearly invisible as they moved, making Quatre scrunch his eyes to see.

"What do you mean?" Trowa demanded, feeling his own throat clench, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. Wufei shot off the missile, and Duo watched as best he could, trying to keep the enemies gunfire off of the Chinese pilot as he worked to decimate the base. The twisting stream of fire made its way to the metal hunk orbiting the planet, heading closer and closer as the red people progressed, unnoticed by all but Quatre, more towards the jets.

The missile was knocked off course, exploding in midair when another made contact with it from the side.

"Shit, you guys!" Duo suddenly yelled, noticing as more spacecrafts approached. Instead of the twelve they had been fighting, they now seemed to be facing off with forty. Not good odds, even for them. "I think we stand about as much of a chance as a seagull against the Noventa ray," he stated in surprise. He paused a moment, before laughing almost maniacally. "But fuck it…this seagull's got guns!"

"This is Preventer Wind requesting back up," Zechs said calmly into his calm, twisting his way through the air as he continued the fight, knocking out four easily.

"Back up will be there in ten minutes," the operator said. Duo felt a grin slide onto his face, watching as they lined up before them in perfect battle formation like cattle to be slaughtered. Excitement ignited in his veins. Just one chance to kill them…one chance to kill the men who had blown up his orphanage and taken his innocence.

"THIS IS FOR SOLO!" he suddenly screamed, heat pouring through him as all the pain of his past overflowed. Without a second though, he launched into the mass, firing violently. "DIE!" Each bullet hit with the shocking precision that seemed to only prove the title of Death befitting. But even more amazing, each shot fired at him he seemed to dodge with ease, flying through and around, giving the bastards a run for their money. And, as he had always done when he was with his beloved Gundam (may she rest in peace) Deathscythe, his lightening reflexes allowed him to get away from every shot and trap, only one or two of each round fired at him slightly nicking the machine he was in.

Quatre didn't give himself time to feel surprised over Duo's outburst of emotions, instead pushing his jet down, dodging underneath the new gathered army. Turning himself nose up to their exposed underbellies, he let out a barrage of bullets, hitting at least five as the others dispersed. Explosions filled the vacuum of space, and the men in the red suits were forgotten by the Arabian as he moved to take down the ones on Duo's tail.

Unlike the others who were being chased, Trowa, in his ever classic fashion, was the one to be chasing. His jet, loaded with more ammunition in all directions than every pilot had together, shot off at random moments whenever one got too close. Imagine the surprise when he got one flying underneath him, or didn't even have to maneuver to take out the ones behind him. It didn't stop them from trying to get him though, even as he continued to chase a few around like a twisted game Russian roulette meets tag.

Wufei was weaving his way through his opponents, blowing up the ones he could as he went, ignoring the shaking whenever something hit his plain, knowing it was just a matter of time before he too was struck. He was prepared to die, as he was every time he fought. But, as he had learned years ago from fighting with the others, it's not how you die that counts, but how many people you take with you. With that in mind, his determination grew. If he died, he was taking at least twelve. It was his lucky number.

Heero and Zechs had teamed up, their jets dancing around each other, dropping down in what looked almost like a beautiful, rehearsed dance, taking out those got too close or who were on the each other's tail. Both of them seemed entirely focused on the battle, though Zechs showed a bit more emotion, crying out in anger every now and then when one of them shot too close or clipped a wing. Heero, on the other hand, could only be heard giving his trademark "Hn", or creepy laugh that he was prone too when fighting.

Finally achieving the impossible and clearing off most of Duo's attackers, Quatre himself realized he had his own problems. Copying his own move from earlier, one of the enemies was underneath him, nose pointing up to the exposed underside. A shot blasted up and into the underbelly of the machine, ripping through the bottom and tearing into the cabin.

For one split second, Quatre felt the metal splitting below him. Scrambling, he tried to break the glass dome, hitting it hard with his shoulder as he tried to press the emergency escape. Nothing worked, so he instead hooked his hands under it and forced it open as much as he could, sliding his body out partially before yelling to the others.

"I've been hit!" he yelled. His friends glanced over, Trowa immediately going to cover his lover to try and stop the attacker. But there was no one around the small blonde's machine, and suddenly, he knew why.

The jet exploded in a fiery blast, shrapnel and electric fire from the controls spreading out in a large plume of blaze, the bright light blinding him for a moment before he could see and try to concentrate on where his lover could be. But there was nothing. Even the jet was decimated, the only remains burning hunks of metal floating blankly through space. Tears stung his eyes as he searched desperately for anything from his lover. A sign of his suit, his body…something….