Desert Heated Tragedies

by: a psycho chibbi named Wendy

Disclaimer: Characters from GW aren't mine.

I wish they were, but if they were mine you'd be watching this story play out on TV instead of reading it on here, so anywho...

Warnings: Violence, Abuse of a prisoner, Adult language, Adult situations, and all that other good angsty stuffI usually write.

Parings: Nothing for right now, but do expect some hints of 6+4+6later on.

Hey peoples! This is a fic I've been tinkering with for a while, and one of the reasons I haven't updated my other fics for a while..

I hope ya like!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

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From his seat in the supply plane that he had boarded, Milliardo Peacecraft, once the infamous Lightning Count Zechs Merquise, watched as the scenery suddenly turned into a vast desert. Frowning deeply, Milliardo stood from his seat and made his way to the cockpit. Once he reached where the pilots were seated he noticed that something was off. "Why have we changed course? We're supposed to deliver these supplies to the White Fang post at the Tangier base in Morocco" he stated as he looked at the gps screen amongst the other controls the pilots were going over.

The co-pilot looked over his shoulder at the White Fang leader for a moment before returning to hastily checking the various gauges. "We know that sir, but for some reason we're running out of fuel much faster than originally anticipated.. We have to make a landing in Timbuktu in order to refuel.." he explained as he tried to use the radio in order to contact the Timbuktu base.

While his co pilot was trying to get in contact with the airport, the pilot was frowning as he gritted his teeth. "I don't understand... The tanks should have been full... We would have easily reached Tangier... Unless the gauges are malfunctioning..." he mumbled as he continued to figure out what the correct course of action should be.

Milliardo nodded and looked over the wide expanse of desert sand. "Very well, do what you can. I'll attempt to contact the Tangier base and inform them of our situation." Not wasting any time, Milliardo quickly moved back to the passenger section of the cargo plane and headed for the communications console. Just as he was about to activate the secure transmission lines that his bases used the sound of the cargo hatch opening and hurried foot steps alerted him. Turning, he watched as one of the guards came running up to him and saluted hastily.

"Mr. Peacecraft, sir! We have found a stowaway hiding amongst the cargo! He has already killed one of the guards trying to escape, but the other two were able to capture him!" the obviously panicked guard stated in a shaking tone. "We believe he may be a saboteur planted by the rebels."

Growling in annoyance, the blonde man forgot about contacting Tangier and crossed his arms over his chest. "He also might have been the one to sabotage the fuel gauges... Bring him here, Benson. I'll deal with the matter." he ordered firmly, looking forward to punishing the cause of their dilemma.

The guard saluted once more and ran off to the cargo hold in order to bring forth the prisoner.

As Milliardo waited his mind began to ponder punishment for their captive. :Maybe toss him out the hatch and let him fight his way through the desert... after we interrogate him for info on what he did to the plane first...: His lips twitched into a smirk at the idea and he filed it away for future use. When the hatch to the cargo hold hissed open once more he looked to see the guard named Benson from before walking out, his side arm drawn as he stepped aside to let the other two guards escort their captive into the passenger area.

The first thing that Milliardo noticed was the light blonde hair that crowned the bowed head. It was very similar to his own hair color, but he didn't ponder it long as the stowaway was brought before him. Pale hands were bound tightly with shackles, and blood spattered the gray mechanic's jumpsuit that the young boy was wearing as the guards held on tightly to his arms. :This kid can't be more than 16 years old... Although the war is forcing children to fight... And I was about his age when I joined Oz..: he thought privately. "Well.. Lets see who we have here..." Reaching out his gloved hand he tilted up the boy's head only to be caught by a pair of bright aqua eyes. They were expressive and swirling with so many emotions and colors that Milliardo nearly forgot that he was dealing with a prisoner. It was then that the pale delicate face triggered a memory. "I know you... You're gundam pilot zero-four ... Quatre Winner." he said as he quirked an eyebrow in intrigue.

The blonde boy smirk at his captor and snorted slightly. "Nice to know my reputation proceeds me.." he said as he jerked his face away from the older soldier's touch only to be reprimanded by the guards that held him. A hit to the back of the head with the butt of a gun made him grunt in pain and his knees gave out from under him. Now on his knees before the white fang leader Quatre could feel the familiar sensation of the barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of his head.

Amused by the way defiance still shimmered in the aqua depths as the boy glared at him, Milliardo sat on his heels to look the rebel pilot directly in the eyes. "Hm.. So much for the renowned Winner family pacifist beliefs... What's a spoiled rich kid like you doing playing soldier?" he asked, which caused the guards to laugh.

Growling slightly, Quatre stared back into those icy blue eyes as he struggled lightly against the tight grip on his arms. "I could ask the same of you, Mr. Peacecraft..." he replied bitterly as he tried to think of a way out of this situation.

That comment made Milliardo's lips twist into a sneer as he delivered a sharp backhand to the boy's face. "It's not wise to talk back to your captors, boy..." he growled before fisting his hands in the front of his gray jumpsuit and forcing the blonde boy to face him again. "Now I'll only ask you this once... And it is in your best interests if you answer quickly and truthfully.."

Still glaring up at him, Quatre grunted something in some other language before nodding slightly. "I'm listening..."

"Why are you here, and what have to done to this plane?" Milliardo asked flatly.

The second question made Quatre blink in confusion. "The plane? I haven't done anything to the plane."

"Commander Peacecraft asked for the truth, you dog!" one of the guards shouted before kicking him in the side swiftly.

Gasping at the sudden blow, Quatre lost his balance and they let him fall to the hard metal floor. Clutching at his side protectively as he curled up on the floor, Quatre coughed harshly before he glared up at the guards. "I haven't done a damn thing to this stupid plane! If I did why the hell would I still be on it!" he shot back before bracing himself for another hit.

Both the guards were about to attack the defenseless rebel pilot once more, but stopped when Milliardo raised his hand. "He's right... if he did tamper with the plane he wouldn't have stayed aboard..." he muttered as he roughly pulled the boy to his knees again. "Alright.. We'll say you didn't sabotage the plane.. That still doesn't explain why you're here." Milliardo stated as he stared into those rebellious aqua eyes.

"Recon." Quatre replied simply, and silently wished it would be enough. Any more hits and he wouldn't be able to escape if the opportunity arose.

"On the cargo or the delivery point." Milliardo pressed on, surprised that he was offering up this much.

Their faces were close, too close for Quatre's taste. He was half tempted to lash out and bite the pale man's face, but restrained himself and figured the best course of action was to cooperate for now. "Both..."

Satisfied with his answers so far, another question entered his mind that nagged at him greatly. "How were you captured so easily? I thought you pilots were better trained than this."

That was something that also nagged at the boy. "I... I heard something strange... Coming from one of the crates... left my hiding place to check it out when that one guard caught me... or he thought he caught me..." Quatre finished the last few words with a smirk.

"Little bastard.." The one guard that had alerted Commander Peacecraft stepped forward and was about to kick the boy in the back.

"Hold it right there, Benson. I want to see this crate he's talking about..." Milliardo stated as he stood, dragging Quatre to his feet with him.

Benson's brown eyes grew wide for a moment and he stuttered out once more. "But sir.. Why should we trust him? He's a rebel spy! He's probably lying to get our guard down.. For all we know he's also lying about sabotaging the plane's equipment!"

Milliardo frowned and nodded slightly. "You're right, Benson... But we'll check the cargo once we land just to be on the safe side." He then turned his attention back to the blonde boy next to him. "As for this one strap him down to one of the seats.. Watch his every move, and stay a safe distance away from him. These Gundam pilots are trained to use anything as a weapon, so don't let him get hold of anything. I'm going to check on the pilots." he informed them as he headed back for the cockpit.

When he entered the cockpit the worried expressions on the pilots' faces didn't encourage him. "What's the situation now?" He asked as he leaned over the pilot's chair.

"Not good.." the Co-pilot muttered as he threw his headset down. "Something's jamming our signal. I can't contact the airbase."

"What's worse is that I'm not sure we'll even make it to the Timbuktu base..." the pilot stated in frustration. "The gauges are completely off.. The only thing that I'm certain of is that we're somewhere near the Algeria and Mali border..." he informed his commanding officer.

Milliardo clenched his fists tightly when he heard this information. "The guards found a rebel soldier hiding in the cargo hold... He might have had something to do with this. Until we find out more just do the best you can. If you have to... Make an emergency landing in the desert." Once he saw the pilots nod in agreement Milliardo made his way back to where his prisoner was held.

When he returned to the passenger area he was pleased to see Quatre tightly restrained in one of the seats, but noticed there were a few more bruises on his face than when he had left. He could see the red mark on his cheek where he had slapped him, but now there was a mark near his left eye and his lip was split open and bleeding. When he got closer he saw that the blonde boy was breathing raggedly and had his teeth clenched as if he were still in pain. :Must have struggled...: he thought as he took the seat across from the young pilot. As he sat there he studied the boy intently and pondered the reasons for this handsome young man to throw away his comfortable life to choose the dangerous existence of a rebel soldier.

"Because I thought I could make a difference.." A soft voice called out.

Startled, Milliardo saw a pair of pain filled eyes looking at him calmly. Quatre's cracked lips twitched into a small smile as he continued. "What about you, Mr. Peacecraft.. Did you join this war because you felt you could change things for the better of your people... Or did you join to settle a score?" he asked as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Pale eyebrows furrowed deeply as Milliardo folded his arms over his chest and glared at his prisoner. "I don't see how that's any concern of yours considering your situation.. You should be more concerned about your health." he stated flatly, not willing to admit that the boy had struck a nerve.

Quatre chuckled lightly and bowed his head. "Yeah.. Like I haven't heard that one before... if I was only concerned with my health I wouldn't be here right now, would I?" he quipped as he peered through his long bangs at the man sitting in front of him.

"Heh.. I suppose not.." the pale man admitted with a smirk.

"Indeed... Now would you be as so kind as to tell me what's going on?" Quatre asked when he began to hear a peculiar sound that seemed to be coming from the plane's engines.

Milliardo heard it as well and he gripped tightly at the armrests of his seat when it steadily grew more pronounced. "I figured you would know..." he grunted, suddenly having a bad feeling as if the worse was yet to come.

Quatre had a similar feeling as the noise from the engines took on an odd pitch that signaled that something was going wrong. "That sounds... Sounds like the plane's running out of fuel..." he muttered as he frowned in concentration. "There's.. Something else... Something else is wrong..."

His pale blue eyes narrowed when he saw that the boy was being serious. "What?"

Closing his eyes tightly, Quatre concentrated on the familiar sound and tried to remember what it was. "That sound.. So familiar..." His brow furrowed deeply in thought before his head shot up and he looked straight into Milliardo's eyes. "The engines are over heating.. You need to land, now." he told him quickly, hoping that he would listen.

"Why should I believe you..." Milliardo asked, although all he could see in those bright eyes was a desperate honesty.

Growling slightly and struggling against his bonds, Quatre glared hard at his enemy. "Listen, I have no desire to die anytime soon.. If I did sabotage the plane why the hell would I tell you?" he asked gruffly as he struggled more. "Damnit, you'll have to make an emergency landing anyway if the plane is running out of fuel! Better to land now than wait ten minutes for the engines to explode!"

Although his mind was telling him not to believe his enemy, Milliardo's instincts were telling him to trust the boy. "Fine.. I'll have a word with the pilot, but if this is just an attempt to let my guard down for a chance escape..."

"Yeah yeah, you can beat my ass into the ground, now go before we crash!" Quatre snapped as he looked warily out the window at one of the engines.

The worried expression on that pale face was very convincing, and it made the white fang leader very curious as he stood up gracefully and headed back for the cockpit. "He's either telling the truth or a very good actor... But I do believe him when he said he didn't want to die.." He mumbled to himself as he reached the pilots once more. "What's the situation now?" he asked them, but knew it had to be bad just by their expressions.

"I wish we could tell you something good, Sir, but everything is going wrong... We're trying the best we can, but the controls are beginning to malfunction as well..." the captain told him with an exasperated tone. "We might not be in the air for much longer if things keep declining at this rate..."

"I see.." Milliardo mumbled thoughtfully before coming to a decision. "Land the plane as soon as you can. We can't risk something happening with the engines at this altitude."

"But sir, we're in the middle of the desert, shouldn't we get as far as possible?" the copilot protested lightly, not liking the thought of being stranded in this wasteland.

Milliardo understood the man's hesitation, but something had to be done soon. "Better to land in one piece in the middle of the desert than land in a million pieces in a populated area. Take her down. We can attempt to make repairs when we better understand the problems." he instructed them, more concerned with everyone's safety at this point.

"Yes sir.." both pilots responded as they began the procedures for a controlled landing.

Satisfied, Milliardo returned back to the passenger area only to see the two guards that had restrained the blonde boy standing in front of him, and seemed to be taunting him.

At one point one of the guards said something that seemed to highly upset the rebel pilot as he struggled harder in his restraints and growled dangerously. "Kul khara we moot!" he snarled viciously as he struggled harder against his restraints.

The guards looked at him like he was crazy as he spoke in a different language and took a step back. "Hey Charlie.. What the hell did he just say?" one guard asked to the other.

The man called Charlie shrugged and chuckled. "I don't have a clue... He's one of those filthy Arabs, probably some primitive gibberish." he laughed as he placed his hand on the blonde head and roughly messed up his hair.

Quatre's eyes flared at that remark and with a quick motion he jerked his head away from the man's touch, causing the guard's hand to drop low enough for Quatre to lunge forward a bite the hand hard.

Crying out in pain, Charlie jerked his hand away and looked to see a place on the back of his hand just below the thumb bleeding heavily. "Fucking hell! He just bit a chunk out of my hand!" he shouted as he staggered back and held his hand close to his chest.

Blood now covering his mouth, Quatre turned his head to the side and spat out the piece of the man's skin he had taken off. "Rouh ya Ayr!" he growled while still struggling with his restraints.

Milliardo couldn't help but smirk at the scene. :My my.. I wonder if that trick was part of his basic training..: he mused silently. When he saw that the other guard was about strike out at the boy he called out. "That will be enough Private Kingston. I thought I told you to keep your distance from the prisoner." he stated loudly as he approached them.

Surprised at his commander's words, Kingston and the man named Charlie both stared at him. "But sir..."

"No buts, soldier! I told you that this rebel would be dangerous. It's your own fault for provoking him. Now you two join Benson in the cargo hold, we're having to make an emergency landing in the desert so we can fix the problems with the plane. Do I make myself clear?" Milliardo asked as he gave them a serious glare.

Knowing that he was becoming irritated, the two guards nodded and headed back to the Cargo hold as Charlie mumbled curses and held on tightly to his still bleeding hand.

Once they disappeared behind the cargo hatch, Milliardo turned his attention to the blonde boy who had his head bowed once more. Curious at how easily the young pilot could switch moods, he went back to his seat across from the blonde. "This war has turned you quite ruthless..." he commented lightly as he strapped himself into his seat.

"The same could be said for you..." Quatre said quietly as he lifted his head slowly. The blood on his pale lips and the sharp controlled focus in his eyes made the young pilot seem wild and dangerous, and it peaked the white fang leader's curiosity even more.

"I suppose..." Milliardo mumbled lightly as he thought of his own deeds to get this far. "How did you kill that other guard? I haven't gone back to check and they didn't tell me." he asked, wondering just how ruthless this boy was.

Quatre looked at him for a moment then looked out the window once more, feeling the turbulence of the plane beginning to land . "I was looking for the noise, and he sneaked up behind me some how... Held the gun to my head.. He said something strange.. That I was too late.. That things were going smoothly and I wasn't going to mess up his plans... Then the noise happened again and I was able to twist out of his grip when he got distracted... Grabbed the dagger from his belt and slashed at his throat." he told him calmly.

:Ruthless indeed...: Milliardo shook his head slightly before bowing it himself. "How long have you been aboard?"

"When the plane first arrived at the Nairobi base last week..."

That made Milliardo raise his head and stared at the blonde boy in disbelief. "You've been aboard this plane for a week?"

Quatre shook his head and returned the man's stare calmly. "I was stationed at the Nairobi base posing as one of the ground crew for a week.. It was easy to gain access to the shipment plans. I established a secret compartment to hide in for the duration of the trip." he explained openly.

"I see... Why are you answering my questions?"

The moment he asked that question they felt the plane bump and jostle as it touched down on the ground. Once the plane came to a stop Quatre looked up at his captor and smirked before gesturing his head towards the windows of the plane. "Look for yourself, Mr. Peacecraft... There's nothing but sand out there for hundreds of miles in all directions... If this plane can't be fixed none of us are making it out of here... I doubt what I say will make much difference at this point."

As he looked out the window at the sand dunes that stretched out to the horizon Milliardo suddenly realized the truth behind the boys words and how much trouble they really were in. "You raise a valid argument there, Mr. Winner... Does that mean I will have your cooperation to aid in our situation if it is required?" Milliardo asked as he looked back at the pale face.

Quatre nodded slightly. "Keep those guards away from me and I'll help out if I can."

"I can agree to those terms. I'll make sure they stay a reasonable distance from you." Milliardo said as he unfastened his safety belt. Once it was off he moved to sit on his heels once more in front of the boy to get a good look into his eyes. "But if you try anything I will give the orders to shoot you down if necessary. If you're not working on something or sleeping you will be with me at all times. Your shackles stay on unless you need to use your hands, and you are not allowed to go anywhere without me unless I give you specific permission, do you understand?" When he saw the blonde nod he cautiously began removing the restraints that held the boy to the seat.

Soon the blonde rebel was free and he stretched his arms out and leaned back in his seat until he felt his spine pop. "Hmmm.. That's a bit better... Next time I'm making the compartment bigger.." Quatre mumbled as he twisted his neck at a certain angle until it popped as well.

Milliardo smirked and pulled him out of the seat. "Better behave then or I'll shove you back in there. Come on, we're going to the cargo hold." he said as he nudged the boy towards the cargo hatch.

Trying not to stumble, Quatre looked over his shoulder at his captor. "What for?"

"I want to see the damage you did to the guard you killed, and I want to see this secret compartment that you constructed." Milliardo informed the boy as he opened the cargo hatch and ushered the young pilot in.

Quietly the two blondes entered the large cargo space of the plane where huge crates were stacked and secured everywhere. Quatre was about to lead the older soldier to his hiding spot when he was stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder. "What?" he asked as he looked back to see the white fang leader pull a five foot long thick metal chain out of one of the crates. "What's that for?" he asked curiously, wondering if he should be worried.

Milliardo was amused by the wary look on the young face and had the gundam pilot turn around to face him. In one quick motion he attached the chain to a ring on the shackles and made sure it was secure before holding onto the other end of the chain and letting the rest of the length fall, causing Quatre's hands to be pulled down slightly from the weight of it. "I'm keeping you on a short leash, boy. Now show me where this compartment is." Milliardo ordered as he wrapped the chain around his hand once.

A pale eyebrow quirked up as Quatre studied the chain for a moment before shrugging slightly and walking towards the back of the cargo hold. Once they neared the back of the cargo hold Milliardo saw the dead guard on the floor and watched in fascination as Quatre calmly stepped over the motionless body in the pool of blood. Stepping over the body as well, Milliardo kept a close eye on the blonde boy as he pointed to a wall panel. "Behind that panel." he stated.

At first glance the panel appeared to be part of the normal wall, but since this was a gundam pilot he was dealing with, Milliardo figured that anything was possible. "Benson! Get over here now!" Milliardo bellowed out, knowing the guards were lurking somewhere in the area.

Soon Benson appeared out from behind one of the crates and turned pale when he saw the dead guard. "Y... Yes sir?"

Milliardo pointed at the panel. "I want you to check out that wall panel, see if there's anything behind it." he ordered while giving the chain a slight tug to pull the boy closer to him.

"Yes sir..." Slowly Benson approached the metal panel and ran his fingers around the edges carefully for anything unusual.

"Place your hands on the top corners then press inward." Quatre called out suddenly.

When Benson looked to his superior in question, Milliardo nodded. "Do it"
Turning back to the panel, Benson placed his hands on the top corners and began to press inward. A soft click was heard then the panel slowly slid downward. It revealed a small cramped space that looked to be around two feet wide maybe overtwo and a half feet long and three feet tall, barely enough room for an adult to squeeze into, let alone stay in for any length of time.

After looking at the space then looking at the boy he held captive Milliardo couldn't believe that the pilot had stayed in there. "How long did you stay in there before you came out?" he asked as he stepped closer to inspect the compartment.

"Hmm... I got in it around.. Sixteen hundred yesterday..." Quatre figured roughly.

Milliardo halted his inspection and looked in shock at the boy. "It's almost eighteen hundred now... You mean to tell me you've been in this space for over twenty-four hours?"

Quatre looked at him puzzled and nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

He stared at the boy for a moment before shaking his head slightly and stuck his head inside the small space and looked around. Inside he found a laptop and a gun tucked away in one corner with extra clips of ammo. Reaching in he took out the small kalaber weapon and held it up for the boy to see. "Planning something with this?" he asked with a grunt.

"If you're asking if I was going to hijack the plane, then no. Merely defense purposes." Quatre told him honestly. "But please be careful with it. A friend loaned it to me." he added with a slight smile.

"I'll try to remember..." Milliardo snorted in amusement as he reached in for the laptop. When he had it he then began walking off towards the loading hatch at the back of the plane. "Let's take a look outside and see what's out there." he said as he pulled at the chain for Quatre to follow him.

A slight chuckled came from the blonde boy as he followed obediently. "I don't think you'll like it, Mr. Peacecraft." he warned lightly.

Ignoring the comment, Milliardo walked over to the control panel that would open the loading hatch. After entering the command, he waited for the hatch to lower and made sure he had a tight grip on Quatre's chain. Slowly the hatch lowered and the bright light that spilled forth into the cargo hold forced Milliardo to shield his eyes. After blinking a few times to become used to the light, Milliardo looked out and was greeted with the sight of golden shimmering sands stretching out into forever before him. "There's nothing..." he whispered to himself.

"I told you..." Quatre replied with a slight smile. "Here the desert is as big as the sky..."

Glaring out at the tall dunes, the white fang leader gripped tighter at the chain. "You don't seem worried about this..." When he glanced at the boy he was surprised at the smile tugging at the blood stained lips. "What's so amusing?"

Quatre's eyes locked with the icy blue ones for a moment. "Oh nothing..." he said as he looked away innocently and kicked the toe of his left work boot on the metal floor.

"You're hiding something..." Milliardo jerked at the chain hard, roughly pulling the boy closer to him. "Tell me what you're keeping from me..."

Glaring back at him almost daringly, Quatre slowly raised up his bound hands and pressed them against the older pilot's chest. "Quid pro quo, Mr. Peacecraft." he stated before lightly pushing away from him.

Surprised that this boy had such audacity Milliardo growled slightly in annoyance. "In exchange for what exactly?"

"You help me and I'll help you. Simple as that. As soon as I'm sure that you will hold up your end of our little agreement I will hold up mine." Quatre said somberly as he looked back out at the vast desert before them. "Until then I refuse to be pushed around, even if you do have the upper hand."

"And what if I decide to toss you out into the desert to fend for yourself."

The blonde boy faced him once more and smirked sarcastically. "Then you toss out your only hope of actually getting this thing off the ground."

"The pilots can repair.."

"The pilots can repair minor problems." Quatre cut in abruptly. "If it's something serious they won't have a clue. And for the equipment to malfunction either there's a really big problem or someone really knew what they were doing in order to sabotage it." he told him flatly.

Becoming frustrated at the fact that the boy was right, Milliardo held up the laptop that he retrieved for the secret compartment. "And what if I decide to check the files on here only to discover you actually sabotaged the plane?"

That made Quatre laugh sharply and earned the taller pilot a very sarcastic look. "You can think whatever you like, Mr. Peacecraft, but unless you know how to read ancient arabic text you're getting nothing from that thing." An odd smile crossed the young pale face as he leaned in closer and stared deeply into those icy blue depths. "But I will tell you one thing, Mr. Peacecraft..."

Forcing himself to stand his ground, Milliardo stared back into those wild aqua eyes. "I'm listening..."

"There's only one rule in the desert.. And that's to survive... I hope your men are well disciplined, Mr. Peacecraft, because if they're not there are going to be more problems arising sooner than you think." the blonde Arabian stated cryptically.

"What kind of problems would those be, Mr. Winner?" Milliardo asked in a near mocking tone.

Smirking like before, Quatre slowly shook his head. "You help me, I help you. Now I believe you need to check on the progress that the pilots are making." he said in a tone that meant the discussion was over.

A slight growl rumbled within the man's throat at being dismissed in such a manner, but he turned around without another word and walked back into the cargo hold. Although the boy was quickly becoming a nuisance, Milliardo thoroughly enjoyed the slight yelping noiseQuatre made when he sharply tugged on the chain.

fjfjfjfjfjfj

TBC

yes! the dreaded multi chapter fic!

Muahahahaha!

anywho, here's the translations for the Arabic I used in this chapter.

Kul khara we moot: Eat shit and die

Rouh ya Ayr: Get lost, you prick

If I've made a mistake feel free to correct me!

hehe

Later!