AU, OOC, Evil Quatre, Split Personality (but not from who you'd expect!), (future all) 4x3, 2x5, 6/13, Pox9, 1x2, Strangeness...
His eyes opened to scream at the brightness of the shock-white room with the midday sun streaming down onto the floor. Where was he now? Was he safe after all this time of running? How had he gotten there?
And most importantly, was his partner safe?
"So, you're finally awake."
Stupid clichés.
"Are you going to cooperate?"
And there were more of them.
"Answer me."
Let's play a game. How many clichés can this guy give within the span it takes a spy of my caliber to get the hell out of here?
"I wouldn't suggest trying to escape, if I were you. This facility is specially designed to hold people like you."
The sneer in the voice was more than annoying than the sound of nails scraped across a chalkboard right next to your ear. Maybe it was the absolute disgust it forced in the captive's stomach. Maybe it was the way it seemed to jump out and attempt to strangle any hope of resistance.
Well, the captive wasn't going to buy it.
Escape wasn't far. Three steps to the door. A minute, maybe two if there was a problem, to force the metal mass open. After that, it was only a matter of finding his partner and getting the hell out before something else went wrong.
"Do you really want to risk getting caught? Your partner will be able to tell you what we do to little boys who try to run away."
Anger coursed through the captive's body, and he turned his violet eyes on his tormentor for a moment, forgetting he wasn't responding. With the breath of winter's midnight in his voice, he whispered, "What the fucking hell did you do to him?!"
"So, you're worried about your friend, little boy?" a voice behind him taunted, and he turned in anger, trying to see where this new person was. "You don't need to worry about him. He's fine. In fact, he's being briefed on his first mission for us as we speak."
The captive's heart sank in his chest. They'd been warned before they took this mission that there would be no rescue if they happened to be captured for whatever reason. They'd been briefed on what these people did to your mind if they got a hold of you. But Zechs had promised to keep him safe. And neither had been willing to let the other sacrifice their mind and body for them.
So they both ended up caught.
But Zechs was strong. He wouldn't have fallen to whatever sick mind games these bastards were playing, right?
"I admit, hacking into his mind and leaving only the information we wanted was a bit of a challenge, even for us, but no one is strong enough to withstand General Yuy's techniques." A soft laugh bit through the room, chilling the captive's blood. "Mr. Maxwell, I assure you, it goes much easier if you choose to cooperate with us. We're not bad people."
"You're just fucking bastards!" the captive shot back, his mind not pausing to register the information that they knew his name, and with it, his record. "Let Zechs go!" Great. Now he was spouting off clichés too. It must be contagious or something.
"Please let me deal with him," a soft, boyish voice sweet as golden honey asked gently, breaking the anger. The captive knew he'd heard that voice before--you didn't forget a voice like that--but where? And why the hell was he so absolutely certain it was important to his survival and the survival of OZ itself?
"Fine, Commander, but remember. We need the information this brat has, no matter what it costs," the first voice agreed reluctantly.
The captive could almost feel the beaming smile in the honey-voice, "Thank you! Could you please send Lieutenant Barton in?"
"As you wish, Commander."
The door whirled open, and it was the captive's chance.
Three steps to the door. Maybe a second to get through. About five minutes to escape a safe distance from the base. Two hours to make it back to the OZ base. A lifetime to grieve over the partner he had to give up on.
He made it two steps before thin but amazingly strong arms grabbed him.
"Are you going somewhere, Mr. Maxwell?" the honey-sweet voice asked softly. He hadn't moved. "I thought you wanted to see your partner again."
The captive was fairly certain whoever was keeping him from escaping could crush his ribs quite easily.
That brought up the question of why they were slightly bruised, but intact.
"You can let him go, Trowa," the honey froze into a beautiful crystal rose, thorns darting through the air. "I'm sure he won't try to leave, will you, Mr. Maxwell?
The door shut quietly, and the captive was free of the arms, but not before he noticed the slight gentleness he'd been held with.
"Duo, make this easier on yourself," Trowa suggested softly. "We're not trying to hurt you. We just want to know a few things."
"Like hell that's all you want! You're going to turn me into one of those zombies you've got working for you!" Duo shot back, trying to gauge the reactions of the two. Trowa was obviously under this Commander person, but his brain hadn't been hacked into yet. In fact, he was the most normal of all the people Duo had been exposed to in the base so far.
So what the hell was he doing?
"Trowa, be quiet," the Commander snapped at him.
Duo noted the slightest wince from Trowa. Was there something going on he didn't know about?
"Now, Mr. Maxwell," the honey-sweet voice began again, coating the room with sugar. "Why don't you tell us a little about this OZ organization you're working for? If you cooperate, I'm sure we can negotiate something with General Yuy about your free will."
Duo bit his lip. He might be a thief, a spy, as well as a variety of other less than savory things, but there were two things he was not. He was not a liar, and he was not a traitor. There was no way in fucking hell this bastard could get him to spill anything about OZ. The people there had been too kind to betray.
Faces flashed before Duo's eyes. Treize, the leader of their organization, trying to bring humanity back to its peak--the way they'd been before these scientists took over. His eyes so full of absolutely nothing when Zechs--his lover--had requested this mission. He knew the dangers Zechs was taking. He knew, but he also knew he had to let him go. Zechs, Treize's Wind, had something in his soul drawing him towards the government buildings, and he needed to find out what.
So they'd gone.
Duo would have to tell Treize they'd failed. He'd hate to do it, but he'd have to. The aristocrat's love for Zechs was so great that nothing would assuage his pain. And Duo, who loved Treize and acted like his little brother, would have to watch the strong, proud man he'd come to respect so greatly crumble.
Une, the woman who ran their organization as Treize's second, had protested to Duo about taking this assignment. "Don't be stupid," she'd begged Duo. "It'll be hard enough for his Excellency if he loses Zechs. If he loses both of you at once, I don't know what he'll do."
Well, sorry to hurt you, Treize.
Sorry, Une. But I couldn't let Zechs come here alone!
Then there was Catherine, a horrendous
cook with a skill with throwing knives they hadn't yet been able to match.
She was searching for her little brother. He'd disappeared one day,
she said, after witnessing a government meeting. Certain of foul
play, she'd turned to OZ for help, and had ended up as one of its most
prestigious members.
Hilde was somewhere in here too, captured
two or three missions ago, Duo couldn't even remember. He hadn't
cried when he'd heard she was missing. He hadn't spoken for the next
three weeks. Finally, Treize held him through the night, talking
to him, and the tears came. For hours upon hours, he cried, and Treize
simply held him.
Was he going to be the next one to
go missing? Was he the next one who would face those he loved and
cared about in battle?
Would he kill them? Would he
watch as he sliced through their bodies, deaf to their screams?
No. Never! Not Duo Maxwell!
Others might succumb, but not him.
Whirling around, a single step to
the door. Thirty seconds to get the door open--it seemed Trowa hadn't
locked it after all.
Two seconds of freedom.
Then only darkness, and a pair of
darkened blue eyes filled with nothing.
