Chapter Twelve: Captured in Time for Tea with Trieze
(It's cold in here. I want to see where I am, but I can't give away the state of my consciousness yet.)
Fortune was in an underground OZ dungeon, under heavy surveillance. She tested her arms tentatively. It didn't feel like anything was broken. There was ,however, the uncomfortable chill tingle of her limbs as they remained asleep.
( Great, just great.)
It felt like she was laying on a bed made of sheeted ice. The air was dry and stale from occupation of people before her.
( I wonder what day it is. How long have I been out?)
Slowly, she sat up. Grimacing, she gingerly felt at her forehead. She felt a bandage.
(At least someone was nice enough to tend to my wounds.)
Suddenly a light shined across the floor as the door of the small cell came open. There, the masked man who called himself Zechs strolled in.
His OZ uniform was impeccable. The crush red velvet coat was lint free. The linen shirt beneath was pure white an hadn't the sign of a wrinkle. Over two feet of flawless platinum blonde hair cascaded from under the mask he wore. The boots were even polished to perfection.
Fortune looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
"I am glad to see you are alright."
"No thanks to you." There was venom in Fortune's voice.
"Our organization leader wishes to meet with you. Only on the promise that you will not do anything rash or foolish."
There was something in his voice that annoyed Fortune. She languidly turned to face him. A smug smile crossed her lips. "And what if I don't promise. What if, as soon as the shackles on my wrists are loosened, I take your mask, break it, and slit your throat with one of the shards?"
Zechs laughed, deep and rich. It resounded off of the walls of the tiny cell. "If you did that, you would be shot dead within seconds, my dear. Now come along, we can not keep him waiting."
He walked over to her and took the shackles off. He walked to the door and waited until she was out. They walked through the base. The bare concrete walls gave way to plaster, then they came to wallpaper, and even some paintings. Zechs slowed his walk and finally stopped outside of a set of double doors. He knocked gently. "Sir?"
A male voice drifted from the other side. "Ah, show the lady in, Zechs, and the leave us."
Zechs open the door a fraction of the way. He bowed low and deep. "He is in there waiting for you lady. Until we meet again." He straightened, nodded, and walked back down the hallway.
Fortune looked at the dark room, and then looked down the seemingly vacant hallways -
"Ah, I would not suggest that young lady. I have guards swarming about this place. Please just come in."
It was way too cordial. Fortune gritted her teeth and walked into the room.
The room was larger than he cell downstairs. It was lushly carpeted and had a grand piano in the corner. There were candles lit softly bathing the room in reddish glow.
A man sitting at the couch stood up as she entered the room. He was tall and wore a an OZ uniform as well, except that his coat was blue. He had brown hair that was brushed perfectly back except for two wisps that rested near his forehead. His eyes were a blazing electric blue and had a musing look about them. He walked over to Fortune.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Trieze. Trieze Khushrenada and I am head of the OZ organization." Bowing deeply, he swept up her hand and gently kissed it.
"I am Fortune Kincaid. Charmed." She smiled tightly.
"Ah, Fortune, such a beautiful name for a beautiful young woman." He did not let go of her hand. He led her over to the red couch he was sitting on. In front of the couch was a glass topped coffee table, and on it was a tea set. The tea pot had steam rising lazily out of the spout. An assortment of crackers had been laid out carefully on a platter next to it.
"I was just about to start tea. I usually have it alone, but I wanted a guest to have it with me today." Trieze carefully, almost daintily picked up the tea pot and poured the piping brown liquid into one of the cups, then the other. He placed the pot down and picked up the sugar pot. "One lump or two, my dear?"
"None." Fortune was not going to accept any guff from this patronizing overzealous fork-eyebrowed freak. But in a way, he seemed intriguing.
"Oh no sugar? I like four lumps, myself. I am such a sugar whore, and I love it." He set to plopping four sugar cubes into his cup. Then sighing loudly, he sat back against the couch. He sipped at his cup, and as he did, he kept his eyes on Fortune as she uncomfortably nibbled the rim of a saltine. She caught him looking at her, and he gave her a seductive look.
Finally he put down his teacup. Crossing his legs, he reached for a rose in a vase near the tea set. Closing his eyes, he deeply inhaled the rose's fragrance, his eyes closed in ecstasy. He opened them just a fraction. "Now my dear, tell me a bit about yourself."
Fortune watched him as he sniffed the rose like it was the best smelling thing in the world. "My name is Fortune Kincaid, as I told you. And that is all you need to know."
Trieze's handsome brow wrinkled. "Come, come now. I just want to get to know you better." He reached over and placed the rose in Fortune's hair, beside her right ear. "Such a lovely young woman as yourself. How can you be a gundam pilot. They are so callous and unfeeling."
Trieze edged closer to Fortune. He looked deep into her eyes. Then he moved his lips gently, next to her ear. "You are not unfeeling my dear. . .This I know." His whispers were hypnotic, warm, very enticing. "You are capable of more than just killing. Stay with me. I can teach you to dance, to smile. . to love. . ."
He took his head from beside her head and looked back into her eyes. Fortune's brown eyes sparkled with wanton desire and yearning. Seeing this, Trieze only smiled a bit, and then ever so gently kissed her lips. Fortune's hands, seemingly acting on their own twined into Trieze's hair pressing him closer to her. He wrapped his arms about her as his tongue mingled with hers. He was pressing her gently onto the couch, laying almost on top of her. He kissed her neck, her ear. . .
"Tell me why are you a gundam pilot? Why do you kill?"
"Oh. . .Trieeeeze." All Fortune could do was say his name.
He smiled and resumed kissing her sweetly as he pressed her more onto the couch. He sat back a moment and took off his jacket, then his shirt. Then he sank back to her in a blaze of sweat and passionate kisses. As she took off her shirt a pair of mental eyebrows raised in his head.
( I can always get what I want from her later.)
(It's cold in here. I want to see where I am, but I can't give away the state of my consciousness yet.)
Fortune was in an underground OZ dungeon, under heavy surveillance. She tested her arms tentatively. It didn't feel like anything was broken. There was ,however, the uncomfortable chill tingle of her limbs as they remained asleep.
( Great, just great.)
It felt like she was laying on a bed made of sheeted ice. The air was dry and stale from occupation of people before her.
( I wonder what day it is. How long have I been out?)
Slowly, she sat up. Grimacing, she gingerly felt at her forehead. She felt a bandage.
(At least someone was nice enough to tend to my wounds.)
Suddenly a light shined across the floor as the door of the small cell came open. There, the masked man who called himself Zechs strolled in.
His OZ uniform was impeccable. The crush red velvet coat was lint free. The linen shirt beneath was pure white an hadn't the sign of a wrinkle. Over two feet of flawless platinum blonde hair cascaded from under the mask he wore. The boots were even polished to perfection.
Fortune looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
"I am glad to see you are alright."
"No thanks to you." There was venom in Fortune's voice.
"Our organization leader wishes to meet with you. Only on the promise that you will not do anything rash or foolish."
There was something in his voice that annoyed Fortune. She languidly turned to face him. A smug smile crossed her lips. "And what if I don't promise. What if, as soon as the shackles on my wrists are loosened, I take your mask, break it, and slit your throat with one of the shards?"
Zechs laughed, deep and rich. It resounded off of the walls of the tiny cell. "If you did that, you would be shot dead within seconds, my dear. Now come along, we can not keep him waiting."
He walked over to her and took the shackles off. He walked to the door and waited until she was out. They walked through the base. The bare concrete walls gave way to plaster, then they came to wallpaper, and even some paintings. Zechs slowed his walk and finally stopped outside of a set of double doors. He knocked gently. "Sir?"
A male voice drifted from the other side. "Ah, show the lady in, Zechs, and the leave us."
Zechs open the door a fraction of the way. He bowed low and deep. "He is in there waiting for you lady. Until we meet again." He straightened, nodded, and walked back down the hallway.
Fortune looked at the dark room, and then looked down the seemingly vacant hallways -
"Ah, I would not suggest that young lady. I have guards swarming about this place. Please just come in."
It was way too cordial. Fortune gritted her teeth and walked into the room.
The room was larger than he cell downstairs. It was lushly carpeted and had a grand piano in the corner. There were candles lit softly bathing the room in reddish glow.
A man sitting at the couch stood up as she entered the room. He was tall and wore a an OZ uniform as well, except that his coat was blue. He had brown hair that was brushed perfectly back except for two wisps that rested near his forehead. His eyes were a blazing electric blue and had a musing look about them. He walked over to Fortune.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Trieze. Trieze Khushrenada and I am head of the OZ organization." Bowing deeply, he swept up her hand and gently kissed it.
"I am Fortune Kincaid. Charmed." She smiled tightly.
"Ah, Fortune, such a beautiful name for a beautiful young woman." He did not let go of her hand. He led her over to the red couch he was sitting on. In front of the couch was a glass topped coffee table, and on it was a tea set. The tea pot had steam rising lazily out of the spout. An assortment of crackers had been laid out carefully on a platter next to it.
"I was just about to start tea. I usually have it alone, but I wanted a guest to have it with me today." Trieze carefully, almost daintily picked up the tea pot and poured the piping brown liquid into one of the cups, then the other. He placed the pot down and picked up the sugar pot. "One lump or two, my dear?"
"None." Fortune was not going to accept any guff from this patronizing overzealous fork-eyebrowed freak. But in a way, he seemed intriguing.
"Oh no sugar? I like four lumps, myself. I am such a sugar whore, and I love it." He set to plopping four sugar cubes into his cup. Then sighing loudly, he sat back against the couch. He sipped at his cup, and as he did, he kept his eyes on Fortune as she uncomfortably nibbled the rim of a saltine. She caught him looking at her, and he gave her a seductive look.
Finally he put down his teacup. Crossing his legs, he reached for a rose in a vase near the tea set. Closing his eyes, he deeply inhaled the rose's fragrance, his eyes closed in ecstasy. He opened them just a fraction. "Now my dear, tell me a bit about yourself."
Fortune watched him as he sniffed the rose like it was the best smelling thing in the world. "My name is Fortune Kincaid, as I told you. And that is all you need to know."
Trieze's handsome brow wrinkled. "Come, come now. I just want to get to know you better." He reached over and placed the rose in Fortune's hair, beside her right ear. "Such a lovely young woman as yourself. How can you be a gundam pilot. They are so callous and unfeeling."
Trieze edged closer to Fortune. He looked deep into her eyes. Then he moved his lips gently, next to her ear. "You are not unfeeling my dear. . .This I know." His whispers were hypnotic, warm, very enticing. "You are capable of more than just killing. Stay with me. I can teach you to dance, to smile. . to love. . ."
He took his head from beside her head and looked back into her eyes. Fortune's brown eyes sparkled with wanton desire and yearning. Seeing this, Trieze only smiled a bit, and then ever so gently kissed her lips. Fortune's hands, seemingly acting on their own twined into Trieze's hair pressing him closer to her. He wrapped his arms about her as his tongue mingled with hers. He was pressing her gently onto the couch, laying almost on top of her. He kissed her neck, her ear. . .
"Tell me why are you a gundam pilot? Why do you kill?"
"Oh. . .Trieeeeze." All Fortune could do was say his name.
He smiled and resumed kissing her sweetly as he pressed her more onto the couch. He sat back a moment and took off his jacket, then his shirt. Then he sank back to her in a blaze of sweat and passionate kisses. As she took off her shirt a pair of mental eyebrows raised in his head.
( I can always get what I want from her later.)
