Bravest Eyes
Chapter 6: A Room With no Sky
Kattie
Disclaimer: Hm…. Let's just say if I did own Gundam- I wouldn't be writing this ficcie… So if you like this ficcie (Which I REALLY hope you do looks up with hopeful eyes because I slaved away on this) then you should thank the anime gods that I wasn't blessed with Gundam ownership. ^.^ Oh- and to fix what I said last chapter, I only own 25% of Quatre. Tensei-chan owns the other 75%, sorry for those it confused. (Just kidding all you legal type people out there!)
Note: I'll try to get chapters out at the same pace- but school's started up again. Break's over sigh so back to the salt mines. But I was VERY happy by getting so many reviews for the last chapter. ^.^ If we get to 50 reviews (well- that only means 8 reviews for this chapter) then Kattie will get 2 new chapters out within the next 2 days (If I don't die first) So PLEASE REVIEW!
Another Note: Hm… No one wants a free Gundam present? Not one person's tried to win the contest! Fine then, I'll make it easier… they're ALL anime songs. That's a HUGE hint. Another hint, go read my song fanfiction, one of the chapter titles is in it. (And I kinda like my song fic ^^* which is very uncommon- probably just like it 'cause the song's so great *o*)
Note Again: I believe 3 feet (or a yard) is pretty close to a meter for those of you who use the metric system. (Why we don't use it in the United States… the world will never know.)
Dedication: This chapter's dedicated to Melara! Thanks for the use of your muse! pats temporary muse on the head Mine's in rehabilitation.
Muse: twitch twitch
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Next Day
Trowa hadn't spoken with Mr. Winner for a very long time. They'd mostly discussed what they were going to do for Quatre. Hiiro had suggested that they try to find the "Lost Hunter" and save poor Quatre, but Mr. Winner had dismissed this idea immediately.
"If they caught you, they might panic," He explained, "And decide that Quatre wasn't worth the trouble. I couldn't allow that threat… not when it's regarding my son…"
After a long debate, they finally decided, or rather Mr. Winner decided for them, that they were not going to try anything until Quatre was back in their care. It was obvious that Hiiro strongly disagreed with this conclusion, due to the fact he still wanted to go rescue his comrade, but he remained silent, focusing on driving the car.
The other pilots mostly held the same opinion, though of course, Duo was too angry at Hiiro to say so, and Wufei felt that it was "unjust" to argue with Mr. Winner. Trowa, on the other hand, agreed with his decision. If those people could give Quatre all those scars without caring, they probably wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he became a threat to them.
Mr. Winner had also left them with some alarming news. Apparently, someone had broken into one of Quatre's sisters' computers and hacked their way into the electronic journal program she had installed. Immediately they had decided it was most likely the kidnappers who had completed this task, Hiiro insisting they must be computer geniuses to be able to disarm his security system.
"Should we head for a library?" Hiiro asked, breaking up Trowa's reminiscence.
"Why would we go to a library?" Duo questioned him in response, with a curious tone. Obviously he'd forgotten he was mad at Hiiro.
"We can't do anything to help Quatre right now," Hiiro explained, "But once he's back we'll make those bastards pay."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
In the Winner Mansion
Mr. Winner stared at the pile of paperwork that had stacked up on his desk. He hadn't done any work at all since he'd received the news. Every once and a while, the secretary would walk in and drop some more papers on top of the mound. It had grown to about 3 feet (about a meter- I think) tall in the last couple of hours.
"Damn them," he said quietly, looking at the same picture of Quatre he had years before when his young son was taken, "How could someone hurt Quatre and survive the guilt?"
"Sir?" Cindy asked, poking her head in the door.
"Nothing," Mr. Winner replied, "It's nothing."
"Are you alright, sir?" She questioned him, stepping into the room.
"I'm fine."
"Maybe you should take the rest of the day off," Cindy suggested, giving him a sweet smile, "I'd be happy to fill out the paperwork for you."
Mr. Winner grinned back at her. "Cindy, I'm your father, you don't have to call me 'sir'."
"Yes I do," she gave him a kiss on the cheek, "I have to be a good secretary. However, I'll have to be a bad secretary for today because I'm going to order my boss around," Her smile widened, "You need to go home. It's not good to work when you're depressed."
Sighing, Mr. Winner nodded. "Fine. If you insist."
"Of course I insist. I can't ask you not to worry about Quatre, because I'm really worried too. Buuuut, I hope you don't worry too much. Quatre will be okay. You just make sure you're there the moment he gets back."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Torture- First Degree
Naihu gave the bandages another look over and sighed with content. All of Quatre's wounds were dressed. The blood had already dried over and the bruises were beginning to heal. It was time for the fun to begin.
"C'mon, prince, best we start this up 'n quick before they get mad. Don't wanna go letting your 'njuries heal up before they can open them again. Then you'd get a real beating. Might even get angry at Mizz Naihu. Better get going."
Slowly, she untied the ropes on his hands and feet. The rope had been completely stained red where it had touched Quatre's skin. There were big indents marking where the rope had been. Quatre bit his lip as the feeling in them returned, causing pain to shoot through his body.
"Thank you," He said to Naihu, automatically.
"Excuse me?" Naihu asked him, giving him a look that told him she thought he was the most dull-witted person in the galaxy. "Mizz Naihu getting thanks from the prince? Don't you go bothering yourself with such things as pleasantries. You'll wish you'd never said such kind words to me after I get my turn with you."
"Thanks all the same," Quatre repeated, "You still didn't have help me."
"I didn't help you, I did what I was told to do." Naihu snapped.
"You could have disobeyed your orders." Quatre retorted.
Letting out a deep sigh, Naihu turned away. "Come on. They'll be wanting you. Best not try that with them though. Maybe Mizz Naihu has a nice side. But if any of them have one then I'll be the next pope."
Naihu led Quatre down the dark hallways he knew so well from the sad reality of the past and night mares of the present. Cold walls, black and dirty. They were the most distinguishing feature of the ship. Quatre had never been to another place with such dark and cold walls. The walls they'd promised to have stained red with his blood.
He was taken to a room with a device that looked like a shower, but was a lot taller. It stretched all the way to the high ceiling. It also didn't have a faucet or a curtain. Instead there was a pipe at the top and a sliding door with a lock.
A man and woman sat on a couch at the far side of the room, below a window that had been covered by wood. They both wore similar expressions of hatred and mild amusement. Both of their gazes were fixed upon Quatre.
"Looks like you've been cut up pretty well," the man said, mockingly, "Has our young prince been a prisoner of war? Who would do this to him?"
There was a silence as he waited for Quatre's answer. Much to his displeasure, there was no answer given. Quatre merely stared ahead with a death glare Hiiro would be proud of.
"Naihu, take off his bandages." He ordered, grinning evilly at the young pilot.
"Sir, I just spent 2 hours putting them on. Can't we wait longer a bit?" Naihu pleaded, looking lovingly at her perfect bandages.
"Now, Naihu. We don't have time to wait. They might heal."
Sinking her shoulders in annoyance, Naihu yanked a bandage off of Quatre's arm. It began to bleed as the scab was ripped off. This was followed by another and another until they were all gone and Quatre was again bleeding heavily.
"Much better," the man said, getting up from his chair, "You should always be bleeding. It makes you look good." He motioned to the strange shower device, "Get in."
Slowly, Quatre made his way to the contraption. It was hard to see because a cut above his eye was now bleeding into it. He stepped in and the door was slammed shut and locked behind him.
"Hold your breath." The man commanded, pushing a button to the side of the shower-like machine.
A bucketful of liquid came pouring from the ceiling and on top of Quatre's head, forcing him to shut his eyes. The liquid smelt horrible, like walking through the perfume section of a store, or in a candle shop, with all the different smells mixing into one disgustingly strong odor. It soaked into the cuts on Quatre's face and burnt. The stinging swept through every cut it touched.
"Not enough?" The man asked, with a sadistic grin. Letting out a chuckle, he pressed another button.
This sent a pool's worth of water onto Quatre, slamming his body against the floor. The burning sensation was everywhere, stinging inside every gash. It filled the entire tank, for that seemed to be what this was, making Quatre hold his breath.
With his eyes still closed, he pressed his hands against the sides, going up the door, trying to reach the top where there might still be some air. He could hear laughing from outside the tank, muffled from the pressure of the water. It was a horrible feeling.
'I could end this,' Quatre thought, not being able to find the ceiling, 'I'd just have to take a couple deep breaths and it would all be over.' As the option lingered over his head, he pushed it away, all the while cursing himself.
'Don't you dare do that to them,' he said to himself. "Them" was basically everyone who could possibly care about him. The pilots, his family, the Maguanacs. 'Don't you ever be that weak.'
As the minutes passed, Quatre began to wonder if they were planning on doing the job for him. There was only so long he could hold his breath and that time was running out. Helplessly, he tried to reach the top of the tank again, sliding up on the sides. It was all to no avail.
He opened his eyes and a pain shot through them, causing him to close them again after a few seconds. But he had seen enough. They were laughing at him. They weren't going to stop this. It truly was the end.
And as his ability to hold his breath failed, he gasped for air.
End of Chapter
Whoa! This chapter's super short. ^^* I was going to add another scene with the pilots but look how much of cliffhanger this ended up being! I LOVE cliffhangers! YAY! Coughs please forgive me? (Do I still get the pocky for updating quickly? Well… it was less than a week!)
Please review! Or e-mail Kattie at Kattie41@aol.com (AIM Kattie41) and make her super happy! I love you all! huggles Have a lovely day!
Chapter 6: A Room With no Sky
Kattie
Disclaimer: Hm…. Let's just say if I did own Gundam- I wouldn't be writing this ficcie… So if you like this ficcie (Which I REALLY hope you do looks up with hopeful eyes because I slaved away on this) then you should thank the anime gods that I wasn't blessed with Gundam ownership. ^.^ Oh- and to fix what I said last chapter, I only own 25% of Quatre. Tensei-chan owns the other 75%, sorry for those it confused. (Just kidding all you legal type people out there!)
Note: I'll try to get chapters out at the same pace- but school's started up again. Break's over sigh so back to the salt mines. But I was VERY happy by getting so many reviews for the last chapter. ^.^ If we get to 50 reviews (well- that only means 8 reviews for this chapter) then Kattie will get 2 new chapters out within the next 2 days (If I don't die first) So PLEASE REVIEW!
Another Note: Hm… No one wants a free Gundam present? Not one person's tried to win the contest! Fine then, I'll make it easier… they're ALL anime songs. That's a HUGE hint. Another hint, go read my song fanfiction, one of the chapter titles is in it. (And I kinda like my song fic ^^* which is very uncommon- probably just like it 'cause the song's so great *o*)
Note Again: I believe 3 feet (or a yard) is pretty close to a meter for those of you who use the metric system. (Why we don't use it in the United States… the world will never know.)
Dedication: This chapter's dedicated to Melara! Thanks for the use of your muse! pats temporary muse on the head Mine's in rehabilitation.
Muse: twitch twitch
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Next Day
Trowa hadn't spoken with Mr. Winner for a very long time. They'd mostly discussed what they were going to do for Quatre. Hiiro had suggested that they try to find the "Lost Hunter" and save poor Quatre, but Mr. Winner had dismissed this idea immediately.
"If they caught you, they might panic," He explained, "And decide that Quatre wasn't worth the trouble. I couldn't allow that threat… not when it's regarding my son…"
After a long debate, they finally decided, or rather Mr. Winner decided for them, that they were not going to try anything until Quatre was back in their care. It was obvious that Hiiro strongly disagreed with this conclusion, due to the fact he still wanted to go rescue his comrade, but he remained silent, focusing on driving the car.
The other pilots mostly held the same opinion, though of course, Duo was too angry at Hiiro to say so, and Wufei felt that it was "unjust" to argue with Mr. Winner. Trowa, on the other hand, agreed with his decision. If those people could give Quatre all those scars without caring, they probably wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he became a threat to them.
Mr. Winner had also left them with some alarming news. Apparently, someone had broken into one of Quatre's sisters' computers and hacked their way into the electronic journal program she had installed. Immediately they had decided it was most likely the kidnappers who had completed this task, Hiiro insisting they must be computer geniuses to be able to disarm his security system.
"Should we head for a library?" Hiiro asked, breaking up Trowa's reminiscence.
"Why would we go to a library?" Duo questioned him in response, with a curious tone. Obviously he'd forgotten he was mad at Hiiro.
"We can't do anything to help Quatre right now," Hiiro explained, "But once he's back we'll make those bastards pay."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
In the Winner Mansion
Mr. Winner stared at the pile of paperwork that had stacked up on his desk. He hadn't done any work at all since he'd received the news. Every once and a while, the secretary would walk in and drop some more papers on top of the mound. It had grown to about 3 feet (about a meter- I think) tall in the last couple of hours.
"Damn them," he said quietly, looking at the same picture of Quatre he had years before when his young son was taken, "How could someone hurt Quatre and survive the guilt?"
"Sir?" Cindy asked, poking her head in the door.
"Nothing," Mr. Winner replied, "It's nothing."
"Are you alright, sir?" She questioned him, stepping into the room.
"I'm fine."
"Maybe you should take the rest of the day off," Cindy suggested, giving him a sweet smile, "I'd be happy to fill out the paperwork for you."
Mr. Winner grinned back at her. "Cindy, I'm your father, you don't have to call me 'sir'."
"Yes I do," she gave him a kiss on the cheek, "I have to be a good secretary. However, I'll have to be a bad secretary for today because I'm going to order my boss around," Her smile widened, "You need to go home. It's not good to work when you're depressed."
Sighing, Mr. Winner nodded. "Fine. If you insist."
"Of course I insist. I can't ask you not to worry about Quatre, because I'm really worried too. Buuuut, I hope you don't worry too much. Quatre will be okay. You just make sure you're there the moment he gets back."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Torture- First Degree
Naihu gave the bandages another look over and sighed with content. All of Quatre's wounds were dressed. The blood had already dried over and the bruises were beginning to heal. It was time for the fun to begin.
"C'mon, prince, best we start this up 'n quick before they get mad. Don't wanna go letting your 'njuries heal up before they can open them again. Then you'd get a real beating. Might even get angry at Mizz Naihu. Better get going."
Slowly, she untied the ropes on his hands and feet. The rope had been completely stained red where it had touched Quatre's skin. There were big indents marking where the rope had been. Quatre bit his lip as the feeling in them returned, causing pain to shoot through his body.
"Thank you," He said to Naihu, automatically.
"Excuse me?" Naihu asked him, giving him a look that told him she thought he was the most dull-witted person in the galaxy. "Mizz Naihu getting thanks from the prince? Don't you go bothering yourself with such things as pleasantries. You'll wish you'd never said such kind words to me after I get my turn with you."
"Thanks all the same," Quatre repeated, "You still didn't have help me."
"I didn't help you, I did what I was told to do." Naihu snapped.
"You could have disobeyed your orders." Quatre retorted.
Letting out a deep sigh, Naihu turned away. "Come on. They'll be wanting you. Best not try that with them though. Maybe Mizz Naihu has a nice side. But if any of them have one then I'll be the next pope."
Naihu led Quatre down the dark hallways he knew so well from the sad reality of the past and night mares of the present. Cold walls, black and dirty. They were the most distinguishing feature of the ship. Quatre had never been to another place with such dark and cold walls. The walls they'd promised to have stained red with his blood.
He was taken to a room with a device that looked like a shower, but was a lot taller. It stretched all the way to the high ceiling. It also didn't have a faucet or a curtain. Instead there was a pipe at the top and a sliding door with a lock.
A man and woman sat on a couch at the far side of the room, below a window that had been covered by wood. They both wore similar expressions of hatred and mild amusement. Both of their gazes were fixed upon Quatre.
"Looks like you've been cut up pretty well," the man said, mockingly, "Has our young prince been a prisoner of war? Who would do this to him?"
There was a silence as he waited for Quatre's answer. Much to his displeasure, there was no answer given. Quatre merely stared ahead with a death glare Hiiro would be proud of.
"Naihu, take off his bandages." He ordered, grinning evilly at the young pilot.
"Sir, I just spent 2 hours putting them on. Can't we wait longer a bit?" Naihu pleaded, looking lovingly at her perfect bandages.
"Now, Naihu. We don't have time to wait. They might heal."
Sinking her shoulders in annoyance, Naihu yanked a bandage off of Quatre's arm. It began to bleed as the scab was ripped off. This was followed by another and another until they were all gone and Quatre was again bleeding heavily.
"Much better," the man said, getting up from his chair, "You should always be bleeding. It makes you look good." He motioned to the strange shower device, "Get in."
Slowly, Quatre made his way to the contraption. It was hard to see because a cut above his eye was now bleeding into it. He stepped in and the door was slammed shut and locked behind him.
"Hold your breath." The man commanded, pushing a button to the side of the shower-like machine.
A bucketful of liquid came pouring from the ceiling and on top of Quatre's head, forcing him to shut his eyes. The liquid smelt horrible, like walking through the perfume section of a store, or in a candle shop, with all the different smells mixing into one disgustingly strong odor. It soaked into the cuts on Quatre's face and burnt. The stinging swept through every cut it touched.
"Not enough?" The man asked, with a sadistic grin. Letting out a chuckle, he pressed another button.
This sent a pool's worth of water onto Quatre, slamming his body against the floor. The burning sensation was everywhere, stinging inside every gash. It filled the entire tank, for that seemed to be what this was, making Quatre hold his breath.
With his eyes still closed, he pressed his hands against the sides, going up the door, trying to reach the top where there might still be some air. He could hear laughing from outside the tank, muffled from the pressure of the water. It was a horrible feeling.
'I could end this,' Quatre thought, not being able to find the ceiling, 'I'd just have to take a couple deep breaths and it would all be over.' As the option lingered over his head, he pushed it away, all the while cursing himself.
'Don't you dare do that to them,' he said to himself. "Them" was basically everyone who could possibly care about him. The pilots, his family, the Maguanacs. 'Don't you ever be that weak.'
As the minutes passed, Quatre began to wonder if they were planning on doing the job for him. There was only so long he could hold his breath and that time was running out. Helplessly, he tried to reach the top of the tank again, sliding up on the sides. It was all to no avail.
He opened his eyes and a pain shot through them, causing him to close them again after a few seconds. But he had seen enough. They were laughing at him. They weren't going to stop this. It truly was the end.
And as his ability to hold his breath failed, he gasped for air.
End of Chapter
Whoa! This chapter's super short. ^^* I was going to add another scene with the pilots but look how much of cliffhanger this ended up being! I LOVE cliffhangers! YAY! Coughs please forgive me? (Do I still get the pocky for updating quickly? Well… it was less than a week!)
Please review! Or e-mail Kattie at Kattie41@aol.com (AIM Kattie41) and make her super happy! I love you all! huggles Have a lovely day!