A/N: Covers eyes in shame This chapter is noticeably later than I promised – I'm sorry!!!
Massive thank you to those who reviewed – it was a true encouragement! Quick replies to those who don't have PM functions – JC thanks for the suggestion – a very good point, I will try and do that with this chapter – let me know if it's any better! And the rest of you, I have hopefully replied to – yell at me if not!
On to the story…things are reaching the boil so let me know what you think – reviews are very well looked after and loved! Please!
Dickensian Streets
By Corralero
Chapter Eleven
They were pounding down an open street that Quatre vaguely recognised. Khan and Duo had clearly taken a calculated risk between secrecy and speed. Suddenly half the group detached itself, swerving down another road. Quatre slowed and then understanding caught up as Duo caught his elbow and dragged him on. The control tower. Duo's out flung arm illustrated the unheard shout, picking out the high tower looming near by. Duo stumbled, taking them both by surprise as Quatre forcibly retained their balance. As they recovered their previous speed, the 04 pilot stared at his friend. Duo was struggling. His exposed chest was heaving in and out and his drawn face was white. He looked up and the docking bay was in view, blessedly empty of extra troops. The lock down guard still remained but that was expected. They could handle them.
Luck was on their side as they approached the bay. The cacophony of sound was dying away but the detached voice continued to relate its command, drowning out the sounds of running. Furthermore an explosion of gunfire coming from the control tower had inadvertently attracted the guards' attention. As the two pilots halted under the cover of a loading station, Quatre heard a sigh of relief from his fellow teenager. He glanced and saw the cock-sure face of the young gang member guard.
"Ha, they never saw us comin'," he sneered. "An' where's tha' back up meant ta be, huh?"
Quatre simply shook his head at the other's arrogant ignorance. That the back up wasn't here yet didn't mean it wasn't coming. Momentarily debating whether to impart his wisdom, he decided not to waste his breath and crept closer for a clearer view of the bay. The guard was disorganised, scurrying to and fro, uncertain how to react to the sounds of violence still coming from the control tower. Yet even as Quatre watched, an officer was bellowing orders, obviously taking control. Quatre resisted the urge to borrow Duo's blue vocabulary. They needed to move now, to take advantage of the confusions and, he glanced around at the fearful faces of men facing battle, before the gang members lost their bottle.
"We need to move now," he snapped.
"Damn right," Duo said. He had moved from his earlier position of slumping against a rusting crane and was tense and ready once more. He opened his mouth to speak then paused.
"Shit."
He paused again.
"Feel tha'?"
The men paused, feeling the slight thrumming vibrations. Mobile suits. Khan swore foully.
"Let's go!"
Quatre's yell startled the men into action, as the two pilots broke from cover and sprinted forward, ahead of the rest of the gang, who hounded after them. The guards were turning slowly towards them and Quatre could hear the cocksure teenager swearing under his breath even as Duo raised his gun. It spat and he saw a guard jerk and scream as the bullet tore though his leg. The air began to whine as bullets zipped around them. Lungs burning, Quatre dived behind a fortunately empty pile of oil drums, followed swiftly by Duo.
Even over the gunfire and shouts of conflict Quatre could hear Duo's rapid, uneven breaths. The braided boy pulled himself up from the concrete floor to lean against the rounded drum, hands fumbling with his gun. A low groan tore from his lips as he suddenly doubled up, clutching his abdomen. That was enough for Quatre. A fighter had a right to know the status of his teammates. It was something the five of them had decided some time ago after realising the shared potential, particularly amongst the others, to conceal or ignore the extent of their injuries. It hadn't been a large issue until one particular mission, when they were almost compromised. At least, Quatre thought grimly, as he crawled closer, they were able to learn from their mistakes…or at least, they should be learning from their mistakes. If Duo was injured he needed to know. He pressed his fingers tentatively to Duo's side, feeling for a wound or break.
"Fuck!"
Duo flinched violently, shooting out of Quatre's grip, a wild look on his face. Taken by surprise by the reaction, Quatre flinched too. The pair then ducked instinctively as a bullet ricochet off the drum behind which Duo was sitting, sending out a deep clang.
"Fuck!" Duo repeated, glaring at Quatre. "Wha' the hell ya think ya doin', Winner?"
Quatre glared back, the tension an anxiety rising in him, the fright from Duo's unexpected reaction causing his next words to come out sharp.
"You're injured, Duo, and I need to know how badly. The rules are-"
"Fuck th' rules, pal. This really ain't th' place for 'em. Back off, alright?"
Stinging retort delivered, Duo swung around, spitting at a grinning Mendez who was obviously listening in, "An' ya can fuck off an' all too, Mendez."
Bristling, Quatre reached forward.
"No, Duo. I need to know if you're fit to pilot. I need to know what the injury is…"
He trailed off at the look on Duo's face. The 02 pilot reached out, fisted Quatre's shirt and dragged him close.
"Jeez, ya really don' give up, do ya? Fit ta pilot? I don' have a fuckin' choice. I've gotta pilot or I'm dead. Protocol is shit. Don' try an' follow it here. Oh an' tha' injury? Ain't from a fuckin' weapon. Now does tha' answer ya question?" Eyes narrowed, he waited for Quatre's uncertain nod. "Great."
The harsh grip slackened as Quatre staggered backwards. He opened his mouth, feeling sick with stupidity, but shut it again as Duo turned around, picking off two guards in quick succession.
Foolish, foolish, foolish.
How could he have been so stupid? He looked miserably down and angrily thrust his humanity away again. This wasn't the time. Duo was right and had adequately proven the point to him. The cold brutal speech wasn't to be taken to heart – what does one expect when one talks to the God of Death as he kills? And now wasn't the time to dwell on mistakes either. Move on and don't think.
Moving instinctively in synch with Duo, he took sights on the guards firing at them, waiting for a respite. He fired the same time as Duo. Two more guards collapsed. That appeared to be the last straw. The rest of guards were moving back, dragging their injured with them, into the shadow of the suspect ship next to theirs. Quatre nodded in satisfaction. So far the plan had worked perfectly. Their position had unknowingly forced the guards to leave the path clear to the ship holding the Gundams.
Duo turned from surveying the scene, his hand reaching into a trouser pocket. His grin was wide and deadly.
"Jus'a little distraction. Be ready ta run on three…1…2…3!"
Duo whipped his arm forward as a grenade, pin out, flew through the air. The Wolves took off running as the grenade exploded behind them. Shouts and screams assaulted their ears as they scrambled up onto their ship. Hair still ruffled from the force of the explosion, Quatre and Duo raced across deck, roaring out orders as they went.
"Open the fuel hatches!"
"Khan, get up ta th' Control Bridge an' open up communication wit th' tower."
"Run out three fuel lines and bring them round to the cargo on deck."
"Three?"
Duo's eyes flashed at he glared at the questioning gang member.
"Ya heard wha' he said. Move it. An' stay in th' shadows, unless ya wanna get shot."
When they had been setting out from Earth, Howard had got hold of transport for them. The ship was old-fashioned, outdated and could occasionally be labelled as a hazard. However, as Duo and the Sweepers had pointed out, only those scraping by used ships like these and in a colony like L2, this was far more likely to escape attention than anything Quatre could provide. It was only now that Quatre realised how true that fact was.
The ship was old-fashioned indeed, with the equivalent of a sea ship's open deck. Some cargo was secured on the outside of the ship (at the added risk of falling off, although the innovations of the Gundam pilots combined with the Sweepers had made certain that that event was as unlikely as Duo and Khan becoming best friends). The benefit was that, in situations such as this, the Gundams could be accessed easily and quickly, as Duo and Quatre were proving as they raced down the metal deck to their machines, pulling back the tauplin with practised ease to exposed the fuel hatches. Quatre was careful to reveal no more than this. It wouldn't do to spoil the surprise. For a moment he paused, mind racing through what the next few hours should bring as he waited for the fuel lines. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Duo doing the same.
He couldn't do this.
He couldn't carry on into this battle without things right between himself and one he saw as a brother.
"Duo, I'm sorry."
Troubled blue eyes met violet as Duo's mouth twitched into a rueful smile. He rubbed uneasily at the back of his head.
"Yeah, Quat. Me too."
He was still pale, and still in pain, Quatre noticed with some concern. Duo caught the look and spoke firmly, but without the earlier bite.
"I promise ya, 'm fit," he paused, and then gave a small laugh. "Well, fit enough ta let 'Scythe do mosta th' work."
It was a poor joke but Quatre laughed anyway. The laughter died on his lips as that ever present thrumming of approaching mobile suits suddenly upped in volume. He snapped a look over his shoulder and winced at the sight.
"Hey, look who's joined th' pary."
Duo's voice was laced with mock humour as he grabbed his fuel line off the nerveless fingers of a gang member and swiftly fixed it into Deathscythe's side. Quatre mimicked the action with Sandrock. Satisfied the fuel was running through smoothly, Quatre straightened from his task.
"Sandrock's tanks take around 20 minutes to fill," he noted. Duo nodded.
"Same wit 'Scythe. 'Part from tha' are ya ready ta roll?"
"Yes. Providing they don't reach us first."
Together the two of them looked out at the new arrivals. Two whole Mobile Suit Corps of Leos were spreading out across the docking bay, sealing off every exit. Meanwhile, dwarfed by the intimidating war machines, troops of soldiers and riot police were swarming around.
"Hey! Bakas!"
Quatre looked around at Duo's exclamation and instantly spotted the problem. A bunch of the younger gang members, he was somehow unsurprised to see the cocky guard amongst them, were up on the edge of the deck, howling derisively down at the dockyard guards who had retreated back behind the other ships. They were egging each other on, playing a twisted version of roulette, apparently ignorant of the implication of the yard full of military and police presence. They ignored Duo's warning shout completely.
"Stupid bunch of twats," Duo muttered. "Sheesh, ya'd think we're up on Sixth Street sprayin' some wall."
"Shouldn't we try and stop them?" Quatre asked as the irritated guards began sending shots in the direction of the jeering Wolves.
"Sure," Duo rolled his eyes. "Go right ahead. Look, man. If they're thick enough not ta see th' danger then Khan's gonna be real glad not ta have such clowns in his gang. C'mon, lets get up ta tha' bridge."
As they moved across the deck to the hatch leading to the command bridge, Quatre looked around, assessing their numbers. Of the thirty men they had begun with, three lay dead on the tarmac below. In the shadows, older, more savvy wolves lurked, looking with distain at the reckless behaviour of their younger counterparts. Siege mentalities developed quickly, and already men had hauled crates forward to the edge of the ship, creating barriers and shooting points to guard them from the police and OZ below.
Up on the command bridge, Khan was surveying the view while Mendez paced the room in agitation. As Duo entered, he spun around.
"Look at this mother-fuckin' mess!"
Duo sneered back at him, hand still cradling his gun.
"Yeah, ain't so fun when ya 'gainst big boys an' not liddle kids, Mendez."
Dismissing him, Duo walked on past towards Khan. Quatre felt less inclined to treat the man so casually. He felt as unpredictable as a tiger. There was a madness, an unpleasantness, in the man's mind that he could not ignore.
"Got the fuel goin'?" Khan inquired without turning his head.
"Yup," Duo replied, running his eye over the control panel. "Jeez, Khan, wha' th' hell have ya bin doin'? Get these damn communication channels open!"
Quatre watched in mild surprise as Khan flushed, watching Duo reach out and deftly flick switches, tuning into the Control Tower, with an ugly look on his face. There was a flurry pf exchange as Duo made contact with the Control Tower and swapped status, before he paused and looked at Khan, a wicked smile on his face.
"Someone not know how ta use communication channels?" Duo laughed mockingly as he reached out and opened another channel. Khan mumbled an excuse for his weakness, but the two Gundam pilots weren't listening. The next stage of their plan was about to come into play. The incoming light flashed red and Quatre held his breath.
"Attention Broadmarsh…Attention Broadmarsh…You are surrounded…I repeat, you are surrounded…All exits have been covered…Lay down your arms and surrender…"
To Be Continued…