---Shades Of Grey---
Chapter 7--My Faith Is Falling Away
**The hunt concludes. But who can you trust?**
AC 192, dinner time. . .
Zechs lounged on the floor, wondering just what this sticky surface was probably doing to his fur. //I can just see it slowly adhering to me. . . Doesn't anyone ever /clean/ the mess hall? What are the janitors doing if this is this filthy?!?// The new Specials recruit fought the urge to hunt said janitors down. . . or burst into wailing tears of helpless disgust.
//And it's all my own fault. This was /my/ idea.//
Glancing up at Treize, so smugly seated on the aluminum bench beside him and murmuring across the table to Lieutenant Une, Zechs sighed softly to himself.
//I never should have suggested plopping somewhere public to pick up a scent trail. . . There's got to be better ideas. Like walking over all the halls and corridors. . . or searching every room on the base. . . or heck, demanding a full personnel inspection of the base in full regalia for me to check over!//
His attention shifted from his silent complaints back to his two human companions when he caught Lieutenant Une asking in a quick whisper, "Any luck yet. . . ?"
//No. . . ,// he growled softly to himself in reply, closing his eyes. //While I agree we probably wouldn't be able to do this without suspicion if she wasn't in on it and here to pass time talking to him. . . I wish it were me talking to Treize right now. . . Or that I could at least look out the damn window behind Une. . .//
"No," Treize breathed in quiet response, eyeing the red wine swirling in his glass.
//And while you're making hopeless wishes, why not dream of filet minion, while you're at it, Zechs?// the cat scolded himself. //Get out of this whining and self-pity. Use your brain. It's not /all/ grey mush, after all! The target did not come to lunch. . . Where can you pick up the trail, hmm? Where can you cross his scent reliably, often?//
A bell toned over the speakers in every room of the base, announcing a change in shifts. As expected, the floor began to vibrate beneath Zechs from the thundering of many feet, foretelling a stampede of starving soldiers to come.
//Uh-oh.//
Icy blue cat-eyes snapped open, and hastily Zechs surged to his feet, ducking under the table so fast he nearly hauled the chain completely out of Treize's hand, though he did unbalance the man enough to spill his wine.
Treize cursed. "What the--? Silver?"
Squeezing between Treize's knees and feeling Une jerk as his fur tickled her legs in passing, Zechs squirmed about to find comfortable seating between them without hitting his head, making sure his tail stayed /very/ close.
Shortly, Treize's worried face peered under the bland white table-cloth.
Eyeing Treize firmly, Zechs patted a paw meaningfully on his fluffy tail, watching enlightenment dawn in the young General's eyes. //I refuse to get stepped on by idiots!// he stated silently, head high.
Treize chuckled softly, and let the cloth flop back down. Zechs could hear him sharing the joke with Une, and her quiet laugh. . .
And sighed softly again, resting his head on Treize's lap.
//This is going to be a /long/ hunt unless you think up something better, Marquise. . .//
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Zechs's fur ruffled. Some instinct kicked into high gear, though he couldn't pinpoint what set it off--a scent, a sound, the way someone walked? Probably the first, something subtle, but that triggered warnings trained into his very soul. . . Something familiar, and coupled with fear, excitement, anticipation--or a mix of all three?
//Danger. . .// Close by, too. Icy eyes narrowed, and Zechs moved his head off Treize's lap, ducking his head to peer under the edge of the table- cloth, warily watching passers-by.
//Which one. . . ?// he asked silently of his instincts.
Not yet. . . Not that. . . But someone, nearby. . .
The waist of an ordinary soldier drew even with his head, stopping, obscuring his vision by standing next to Treize's seat. "Ma'am? Sir? Could I get you anything?" the young fellow questioned eagerly.
//Yes you can: get out of my--// Zechs began, teeth drawing back for a vocal snarl--
But that same instinct froze him, and his focus narrowed sharply in instant response on this man.
//This one.// He didn't question his senses' information, nor did the muscles at his command, tensing expectantly for the chase and the kill! //This is the one--fear and excitement?!//
"I think I'll have the steak, and perhaps a refill of wine, same year," Treize was smoothly answering.
"I'll have the same." Une.
"Yes Sir, Ma'am. . ." Then the soldier was gone, back into the press of hungry soldiers.
//How do I signal Treize? I can't even sit on his leg here! Damn this! Something's up!// But he knew--the scents fit a plan that made perfect sense.
They would kill Treize, here, in public, where too many suspects would hide them in anonymity. A blade in the ribs when a large group of other soldiers passed, and nobody would know where the blade came from. It would be found hours later, wiped clean and dumped where it could incriminate someone who had nothing to do with the crime. . .
And the real assassins would never be found.
//Not if I can help it!//
Zechs braced himself, mind working feverishly, claws pricking from their sheathes, one paw sneaking up under the edge of the table-cloth to grip the ridges of the aluminum bench.
//This is /my/ prey. . . //
Silver could be patient when he needed to be.
The soldier returned with the plates, setting Une's down first, then maneuvering to Treize's side, not quite directly ahead of Zechs, to set down the General's plate. . .
//Hold. . . hold. . .//
Zechs could hear an appropriate-sized mass of anonymity drawing near with heavy boots--
--A flash of steel flicking open with the faintest of clicks, a switchblade- -
--Something silent and silver moved at the same instant!
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Hearing a sharp gasp of agony, Treize sucked in his own breath in sudden pain, leaning first forward to avoid getting accidentally bumped by a band of passing lummoxes, a move made awkward from sudden movement beside his leg, then jerking his body away from the sharp prick against his ribs, fixing a glare at--
Blood and silver. . .
Blood and /Silver/!
//Oh my God!//
The young soldier standing behind him was also staring down at the same thing, only his expression bore a wealth of horror and agony.
No surprise in that reaction from the man. The soldier bore a switchblade in hand, with a thin blade whose mark would barely be found by an autopsy, let alone leave noticeable marks in cloth. The blade itself had caused that pricking against Treize's side--but it hadn't gone further than to draw a faint ribbon of blood, arrested in mid-attack as it was:
Powerful jaws had clamped down with crushing, tearing force on the man's wrist, fangs puncturing deep into flesh and freeing a flood of sticky blood, clamping so hard into bone that it threatened to shatter the soldier's arm.
For an instant, both Treize and the soldier stared at the man's mutilated arm with equal levels of shock.
Silver's icy eyes stared back with a hatred that knew no equal even in insane fallen angels, silently threatening that even the depths of Hell could not save this wanna-be assassin!
//Holy--!//
"Your Excellency?" Lieutenant Une asked in concern from across the table, unable to see the arm or blade just under the edge from her side.
Her voice broke the spell. The switchblade clattered to the aluminum bench.
Surging to his feet, Treize staggered on his bad leg, arm moving for his gun--
Too slowly. The injured assassin, being at the holster's side of the General, grabbed it first with his good hand, ripping it from Treize's belt, and slammed the butt into Silver's head with a cry of intertwined pain and rage and panic.
"Silver!" Treize shouted, knocked off balance by the wrench on his belt and vibrating impact of a heavy body on the aluminum furniture, and sitting down heavily again, though farther away from his attacker, arms lifting in self-defense. //Where the hell did this guy come from?!? Why?!?//
An enraged snarl answered him.
The assassin grimaced, and whirled, taking to his heels down the aisle between tables, clutching his blood-soaked arm to his chest, gun still in hand.
Next thing Treize knew, the bench slammed over, bowled over by a hundred and seventy pounds of feline fury that tore after the man like a heat- seeking missile and hissing through the air with equal single-minded purpose!
"Your Excellency!" Une cried in alarm, leaping over to his side. "STOP THAT MAN!" she bellowed at the rest of the mess hall.
//Zechs! He'll shoot you!!!// "Silver, he has a gun!!!"
Chaos broke out even as Une grabbed him by the forearm and hauled him out of the aisle to the safety underneath the table, taking a crouching stance over him and drawing her own gun protectively.
Treize struggled to get his feet back under his body. //I have to see-- there's more than one to this conspiracy, so where is this man's partner?!? Damn it--Zechs is in danger!//
But soldiers were milling about in confusion and uproar, and Lieutenant Une blocked Treize's only exit from the confines of typical aluminum cafeteria furniture. When he moved to emerge, she held up a warning hand.
"Sir, better if you stay low until this is sorted out," she suggested firmly, keeping herself crouched low probably on the same principle. "We can't get past the crush of people now anyway."
"Silver--!" Treize protested, pulling up his good leg into a semi-kneeling position. "They'll shoot--"
"'They'?" Une asked incredulously, worry filling her eyes in a sudden flood. "I thought we were after only one!"
//Now the cat's out of the bag. . . Damn this, I don't care! Zechs needs-- //
Gunfire at the far end of the mess hall interrupted that train of thought.
//ZECHS!!!//
At least part of Treize's mind continued to work. "SILVER!!!"
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The cat had surged after his target with such speed as would make a bird of prey proud. Every lunge was fluid grace, eating the distance like a starving wolf, gaining ground, sliding around the obstacles of moving men and benches like a fish.
//You. Die!//
Something made the injured soldier glance over his shoulder--and the man's face paled visibly in sheer terror at the sight that met him. He stumbled on a few steps further, then whirled, bringing gun to bear even as the cat leapt with deadly claws--
//Got you!!!//
Luck was on the soldier's side--he stumbled backwards, falling back even as he swung about, and those claws ripped into his good arm as the gun slammed into Zechs's shoulder, sending the cat flying sideways into a table with a crash.
//Ah!//
China, food, and aluminum table gave way, but so did a handful of rib- bones: they snapped audibly, a wet cracking like sodden branches, under the heavy impact.
Struggling back to his feet, the soldier sobbed in pain, gun falling from weakened fingers. "My God--my arms! My arms. . . !" he moaned, half- staggering towards the nearest door, trailing blood helplessly.
//Hurt--hurts--to hell with pain, I'm MAD!!!// Scrambling breathlessly, Zechs clawed his way back to his feet, oblivious to the food and shattered china dusting his fur, the deep marks his claws were screeching into the metal, or the pain punctuating every breath like an exclamation-point. Bloody rage settled over his eyes, and he lunged for the staggering soldier- -his prey!
He sensed the movement more than caught it at the periphery of his vision-- just before he heard the sharp retort of a gun firing--
But that was enough warning for such as he.
Zechs leapt lithely sideways, felt slivers of concrete prick through the thick fur of his front paws as bullets just missed him, ricocheting off the floor and pinging into the aluminum behind him.
//Another one! /The/ other one?// Sharp ice-blue eyes whirled to this new target even as he anticipated another shot and leapt behind an overturned bench.
//No matter--the other can be caught later, but this needs to be dealt with NOW!//
A glimpse was all Silver needed to pinpoint the shooter's location, then he was surging as fast as his paws could go behind the partial protection of the bench, to duck under a table and vanish from the man's view.
"SILVER!!!" Treize hollered in the panic following those shots.
//Not now Treize--that probably brought his attention to you!// Slipping from table to table, between running soldiers and scrambling civilian staff, trying to keep to cover, he began circling towards this new target as quickly as he could. //I hope Lieutenant Une is a good shot. . .//
By now, though, a fair number of soldiers and civilians had fled, though others had pulled guns and seemed to have no idea what they should be doing with them.
//Idiots! Better if you just get out of the way!// But they were the least of his concerns. . .
Instinct growled that this sound shooter had a hunt in mind. Unfinished business to take care of. Who cares about a cat when someone who could speak has to be silenced swiftly? It takes a hunter to know one. It takes a hunter to guess another hunter's plan. . .
//I have to get into place in time!//
It takes a hunter to kill one.
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Treize glanced about at the near-empty mess hall around them, the tumbled aluminum tables and benches, the trampled food, dishes, and food trays on the concrete floor. //Damn it, all I have on me is my decorative sword-- that won't do anything against a gunman! Silver--Zechs--be alright, be safe!//
The shooting had stopped. . . and it didn't sound as if the gunman had died this time--no shrieks or growls.
//Zechs. . .// Treize pleaded softly to himself, worried. //I'll never forgive myself if I've brought you here to your death.//
Lieutenant Une straightened after a few moments, warily scanning about the carnage with gun at ready. "It seems clear now, Sir," she murmured.
//I refuse to hide any longer, then!// Gripping the edge of the table, Treize pulled himself to his feet, clicking cane-tip to concrete to ease his aching leg. Wild maneuvers like that reminded his body that it had /not/ finished healing yet, and it sent him sharp, painful memos to return that fact to his attention. //Shit, shit, and more shit! My doctor will kill me if I ripped the ligaments of my knee and ankle yet /again/. . . I need to be able to move right now, and my leg's even worse! What /else/ can go wrong?//
Footsteps approached, as if in answer, and both he and Lieutenant Une turned to see Lieutenant Shimmel carefully picking his way through the mess on the floor, eyes scanning warily around as he drew closer, his gun bared in his hand. "Lieutenant Une? Your Excellency! You're alright! I think the man fled outside--he's left a trail of blood. . . ," he announced with relief.
Treize ran a grimy hand through his hair to brush a couple stray hairs out of his eyes, sagging with relief against both his cane and the table he'd just used to lever to his feet. //Shimmel. Thank God! A friendly face in this place!// "Someone is after him?" he inquired grimly. //Perhaps Zechs. . . ?//
His Uncle's former aide drew even with the pair of them, his very presence reassuring them both. Une put the safety back on her gun and returned it to the holster at her side, gazing after the last of the departing soldiers with cold eyes. . .
"Several soldiers have probably run him down as we speak. As I said, he was bleeding rather heavily--I just missed him at the door," Shimmel admitted a touch sheepishly. Pausing, he, too, scanned about the mess hall, though there was something in his eyes. . .
Something icy in his eyes. . . which seemed to be looking for something. . .
//Where is Zechs?// "And Silver? Have you seen him?" Treize added, feeling a twitch between his shoulderblades. //Something. . . is not right. I can feel it, but I can't pinpoint it. . . !//
Shimmel sounded distracted, but murmured, "I saw your cat chasing the man, but after that? No. . ."
Une eyed Treize curiously a moment, before her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She, too, must have picked up that strange feeling. . .
//Like something is stalking you. . . ,// Treize decided with a slight shudder. //And. . . is Shimmel mixed up in this?// "Lieutenant Shimmel. . . ," he began.
The man's gun lifted as if in slow motion, barrel pointed for the young Specials General's heart. "Yes," the man stated coolly. "It's time to clean up, General. Before that damn cat of yours makes a nuisance of itself again."
//Zechs! He must have shot--!// Deep blue eyes stared steadily at the gun leveled at his chest, and Treize let his breath out in a drawn sigh, trying to steady his whirling emotions--rage, fear, a depthless sorrow. . . //He killed Zechs!//
//He's going to kill /me/. . .//
"One twitch and he's dead, Une!" Shimmel snapped.
Treize, jerked from his shock, glanced at the young lady standing only ten feet away, and smiled sadly at the sight of her practically growling in frustrated helplessness. //He will kill her, too, after he's certain I'm dead.//
"Your gun--two fingers and slide it on the floor over there." Shimmel's free hand gestured down a debris-filled isle.
With a soundless snarl, Lieutenant Une slowly obeyed, taking her gun from the holster with only two fingers, and tossing it so it skittered into the debris of interrupted dinner.
"Why?" Treize whispered, watching the gun vanish from sight--and probably any hope of easy recovery--amid the ruined food and shattered china. //I want to know that much before I die. . . Before I join my Uncle, my parents. . . Zechs. . .//
Shimmel smiled without humor, a death's head grin, eyes heartlessly cold. "They--" a hand indicated others in the conspiracy "--think this is to shut up silly ideas of peace with the colonies. But you and I know better, Treize. . . and soon just I will know. I'm preventing a second war. . ."
Ice filled Treize's stomach--he didn't catch Lieutenant Une's bewildered expression to the side. //He's against Uncle's plan! The /traitor/!!! He knew--he knew every detail, he helped plan all this /with/ Uncle Catalonia! Who has he told? How many others know?!?// "The Alliance. . . ?" he breathed, wondering. . .
Catalonia's former aide smirked. "I haven't babbled around, Treize. Do you think I'm stupid? Only one knows, but don't you see that others already are wary towards the Specials? It would never have worked. . . A silly dream of conquest through revolution. And without you, it's nothing more than a dream. . ." The smirk shifted into a full triumphant smile. "Goodbye, Your Excellency!"
A snarl interrupted before Shimmel's lips could close on that final word.
//Zechs!!!// It was a mental cry of relief and fear for his friend. . .
Treize stared as in slow motion, the soldier's brown eyes widened in surprise and fear, watched as the man whirled completely around to face the attack, lifting the barrel of the gun slightly and raising his other arm defensively. . . The young General gasped as he glimpsed a silvery blur soaring through the air with talons unsheathed and bloody fangs bared to tear and rend, heavy paws thudding into Shimmel's chest with the punishing power of a boxer's KO shot.
The gun went off before the pair hit the ground.
"Silver--!" Treize breathed, lunging for them, abandoning his cane to clatter to the floor. //Did he--? Is he--? Damn it, Zechs, are you suicidal?!?//
Une was faster--she caught two fistfuls of silvery-pale mane and hauled at the cat, trying to lift him off the gunman--then froze, making a sickened noise, face blanching.
Treize took one look and grimaced, suddenly glad he hadn't started eating yet. //Zechs. . . Now I understand why you so hate to kill. . . and why you think of yourself as a monster.//
Silver's jaws were still closed about the man's throat, or rather, what remained of Shimmel's throat after sharp incisor teeth had done their work. Blood soaked the pair--and began soaking the ground by Treize's and Une's knees--in a steady flow. His head raised by Une's grip--he brought the man's throat up in chunks with her pull--enraged ice-blue eyes claimed the kill with the ferocity of a successful hunter of the mountains, glaring at both humans in warning.
"Silver. . . ," Treize whispered, touching a hand to that bloody ruff. "It's over--you killed him. . . Let go." //Let go, Zechs. . . Please. . . I need to know if you're hurt--I need /you/! Remember your humanity. . . please. Before your instincts take you further. . . I don't know if I can reach you if you let them take control.//
//I don't want to lose you, Zechs. I just found you!//
Fiery eyes stared into his. . . Lovely ice-blue eyes, eyes whose ferocity hurt him, whose anger frightened him, whose pain worried him. . .
"My Silver. . ."
Those fiery eyes cooled slowly, and jaws opened slowly, letting the mangled head thud to the concrete with a sickening impact. Levering up to bloodied paws, Silver stepped off the nearly decapitated carcass, and staggered slightly, panting heavily through blood-covered jaws.
Now Treize could see better-and finally find where that last bullet had gone:
//Oh no. . . Dorothy will kill me when we get back--but thank God, it doesn't look fatal!//
Through Zechs's ribs. Just the edge, perhaps just clipping the edge of a lung, the entrance and exit holes only a couple inches apart and more ends of a furrow than holes in the thick fur. But it was bleeding thickly, and the cat was breathing shallowly, frequently, excessively out of breath. No telling if the lung had been hit, not with Shimmel's and the other assassin's blood thick in his jaws and matting the rest of his fur. Already, however, Silver was a little unsteady on his feet, worn out, battered, and losing blood. . .
//Damn, damn, damn. . . Hang on, Zechs.// Treize whipped out his trusty Swiss Army knife and began snapping the buttons off his uniform jacket in a hurry. He caught a glimpse of Une salvaging Shimmel's radio even as he began cutting strips off the jacket to bind Silver's injuries.
"This is Lieutenant Une. Assassin down in the mess hall. We need a medic-- do any on this damn base have any skill with animals?!? Just get someone down here, pronto! And why the hell aren't any of you idiot MPs in here?!? . . . Yes, I see--Shimmel told you to guard outside. Just get your asses in here /now/, or I'll have the lot of you cited for incompetence!"
Smiling a little at the overheard exchange, Treize wrapped layer after layer of thick blue cloth around Silver's ribs, as the cat sat patiently, eyes closed. //I think Une will be /my/ aide, as soon as I can get the right papers for her transfer. . .//
The cat's massive head turned briefly, interrupting Treize's work. . . to give the young General's bandage-filled hand a sandpapery lick, icy eyes almost apologetic as they gazed into his own. . .
"I was worried about you, Silver," Treize murmured softly, taking a moment to scratch behind a furry ear with his free hand. //There's so much more I want to say. . . but can't, not with Une here to overhear. Later. . . Sometime later. . .// Smiling wryly, he added, "I /would/ say never to try such an idiot stunt again. . . but you probably won't have to. Dorothy's going to /kill/ me for letting you get hurt too now!"
Silver simply. . . cat-smiled. And snorted in amusement, seeming to pretend that any pain was merely a figment of an overly-determined imagination.
Groaning softly under his breath, Treize resumed wrapping. //Oh God, that's right. . . Two of us invalided now, and under *Shudder!* Dorothy's supervision!// "Between me wrenching my leg yet /again/, and you busting up your ribs. . . she's never going to let us leave the house again, Silver!" he pointed out unhappily.
The cat sighed, rolling icy eyes.
Treize tied off a last layer of bandaging, relieved to see that the outermost layer was not yet bloody. //Good, the bleeding is slowing. I must have bound it with enough pressure to help. . .//
Someone was. . . laughing?
//It's /not/ funny! I've had enough mothering from Dorothy already!//
Treize rounded on a laughing Lieutenant Une sharply, and lifted an admonishing finger. "Keep that up, Lieutenant Une, and I'll whack your foot with my cane so you can /join/ our upcoming misery!" he threatened half-heartedly.
Une visibly struggled to compose her face--but wasn't terribly successful-- as she lifted her hand in a sharp salute and barked, "Yes Sir, Your Excellency Sir!"
And promptly resumed laughing at him.
Treize covered his face with a hand and sighed. //Why /me/? My aide laughs at me, my niece bosses me--probably the /top/ general of the world-- around like a younger brother, . . . and my lover is a huge cat who threatens to piddle on my leg. And I haven't even /started/ commanding the Specials yet! And speaking of cats piddling. . .//
Clattering boots announced the arrival of the MPs finally, as neatly- uniformed soldiers ran up to the pair.
//Good! I was about to get /really/ pissed myself. . . !//
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To be continued.
Due to Fanfiction.net's policies, this story will be continuing at Rogue11's website soon, due to the evolving relationship of 13x6 and violence. What can I say? Not much option. But hey, she puts up other stories that can't continue on Fanfic.net, too, and if you have one you'd like to re-house, contact her or check out her site at: http://www.gundam-wing-universe.net/
Chapter 7--My Faith Is Falling Away
**The hunt concludes. But who can you trust?**
AC 192, dinner time. . .
Zechs lounged on the floor, wondering just what this sticky surface was probably doing to his fur. //I can just see it slowly adhering to me. . . Doesn't anyone ever /clean/ the mess hall? What are the janitors doing if this is this filthy?!?// The new Specials recruit fought the urge to hunt said janitors down. . . or burst into wailing tears of helpless disgust.
//And it's all my own fault. This was /my/ idea.//
Glancing up at Treize, so smugly seated on the aluminum bench beside him and murmuring across the table to Lieutenant Une, Zechs sighed softly to himself.
//I never should have suggested plopping somewhere public to pick up a scent trail. . . There's got to be better ideas. Like walking over all the halls and corridors. . . or searching every room on the base. . . or heck, demanding a full personnel inspection of the base in full regalia for me to check over!//
His attention shifted from his silent complaints back to his two human companions when he caught Lieutenant Une asking in a quick whisper, "Any luck yet. . . ?"
//No. . . ,// he growled softly to himself in reply, closing his eyes. //While I agree we probably wouldn't be able to do this without suspicion if she wasn't in on it and here to pass time talking to him. . . I wish it were me talking to Treize right now. . . Or that I could at least look out the damn window behind Une. . .//
"No," Treize breathed in quiet response, eyeing the red wine swirling in his glass.
//And while you're making hopeless wishes, why not dream of filet minion, while you're at it, Zechs?// the cat scolded himself. //Get out of this whining and self-pity. Use your brain. It's not /all/ grey mush, after all! The target did not come to lunch. . . Where can you pick up the trail, hmm? Where can you cross his scent reliably, often?//
A bell toned over the speakers in every room of the base, announcing a change in shifts. As expected, the floor began to vibrate beneath Zechs from the thundering of many feet, foretelling a stampede of starving soldiers to come.
//Uh-oh.//
Icy blue cat-eyes snapped open, and hastily Zechs surged to his feet, ducking under the table so fast he nearly hauled the chain completely out of Treize's hand, though he did unbalance the man enough to spill his wine.
Treize cursed. "What the--? Silver?"
Squeezing between Treize's knees and feeling Une jerk as his fur tickled her legs in passing, Zechs squirmed about to find comfortable seating between them without hitting his head, making sure his tail stayed /very/ close.
Shortly, Treize's worried face peered under the bland white table-cloth.
Eyeing Treize firmly, Zechs patted a paw meaningfully on his fluffy tail, watching enlightenment dawn in the young General's eyes. //I refuse to get stepped on by idiots!// he stated silently, head high.
Treize chuckled softly, and let the cloth flop back down. Zechs could hear him sharing the joke with Une, and her quiet laugh. . .
And sighed softly again, resting his head on Treize's lap.
//This is going to be a /long/ hunt unless you think up something better, Marquise. . .//
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Zechs's fur ruffled. Some instinct kicked into high gear, though he couldn't pinpoint what set it off--a scent, a sound, the way someone walked? Probably the first, something subtle, but that triggered warnings trained into his very soul. . . Something familiar, and coupled with fear, excitement, anticipation--or a mix of all three?
//Danger. . .// Close by, too. Icy eyes narrowed, and Zechs moved his head off Treize's lap, ducking his head to peer under the edge of the table- cloth, warily watching passers-by.
//Which one. . . ?// he asked silently of his instincts.
Not yet. . . Not that. . . But someone, nearby. . .
The waist of an ordinary soldier drew even with his head, stopping, obscuring his vision by standing next to Treize's seat. "Ma'am? Sir? Could I get you anything?" the young fellow questioned eagerly.
//Yes you can: get out of my--// Zechs began, teeth drawing back for a vocal snarl--
But that same instinct froze him, and his focus narrowed sharply in instant response on this man.
//This one.// He didn't question his senses' information, nor did the muscles at his command, tensing expectantly for the chase and the kill! //This is the one--fear and excitement?!//
"I think I'll have the steak, and perhaps a refill of wine, same year," Treize was smoothly answering.
"I'll have the same." Une.
"Yes Sir, Ma'am. . ." Then the soldier was gone, back into the press of hungry soldiers.
//How do I signal Treize? I can't even sit on his leg here! Damn this! Something's up!// But he knew--the scents fit a plan that made perfect sense.
They would kill Treize, here, in public, where too many suspects would hide them in anonymity. A blade in the ribs when a large group of other soldiers passed, and nobody would know where the blade came from. It would be found hours later, wiped clean and dumped where it could incriminate someone who had nothing to do with the crime. . .
And the real assassins would never be found.
//Not if I can help it!//
Zechs braced himself, mind working feverishly, claws pricking from their sheathes, one paw sneaking up under the edge of the table-cloth to grip the ridges of the aluminum bench.
//This is /my/ prey. . . //
Silver could be patient when he needed to be.
The soldier returned with the plates, setting Une's down first, then maneuvering to Treize's side, not quite directly ahead of Zechs, to set down the General's plate. . .
//Hold. . . hold. . .//
Zechs could hear an appropriate-sized mass of anonymity drawing near with heavy boots--
--A flash of steel flicking open with the faintest of clicks, a switchblade- -
--Something silent and silver moved at the same instant!
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Hearing a sharp gasp of agony, Treize sucked in his own breath in sudden pain, leaning first forward to avoid getting accidentally bumped by a band of passing lummoxes, a move made awkward from sudden movement beside his leg, then jerking his body away from the sharp prick against his ribs, fixing a glare at--
Blood and silver. . .
Blood and /Silver/!
//Oh my God!//
The young soldier standing behind him was also staring down at the same thing, only his expression bore a wealth of horror and agony.
No surprise in that reaction from the man. The soldier bore a switchblade in hand, with a thin blade whose mark would barely be found by an autopsy, let alone leave noticeable marks in cloth. The blade itself had caused that pricking against Treize's side--but it hadn't gone further than to draw a faint ribbon of blood, arrested in mid-attack as it was:
Powerful jaws had clamped down with crushing, tearing force on the man's wrist, fangs puncturing deep into flesh and freeing a flood of sticky blood, clamping so hard into bone that it threatened to shatter the soldier's arm.
For an instant, both Treize and the soldier stared at the man's mutilated arm with equal levels of shock.
Silver's icy eyes stared back with a hatred that knew no equal even in insane fallen angels, silently threatening that even the depths of Hell could not save this wanna-be assassin!
//Holy--!//
"Your Excellency?" Lieutenant Une asked in concern from across the table, unable to see the arm or blade just under the edge from her side.
Her voice broke the spell. The switchblade clattered to the aluminum bench.
Surging to his feet, Treize staggered on his bad leg, arm moving for his gun--
Too slowly. The injured assassin, being at the holster's side of the General, grabbed it first with his good hand, ripping it from Treize's belt, and slammed the butt into Silver's head with a cry of intertwined pain and rage and panic.
"Silver!" Treize shouted, knocked off balance by the wrench on his belt and vibrating impact of a heavy body on the aluminum furniture, and sitting down heavily again, though farther away from his attacker, arms lifting in self-defense. //Where the hell did this guy come from?!? Why?!?//
An enraged snarl answered him.
The assassin grimaced, and whirled, taking to his heels down the aisle between tables, clutching his blood-soaked arm to his chest, gun still in hand.
Next thing Treize knew, the bench slammed over, bowled over by a hundred and seventy pounds of feline fury that tore after the man like a heat- seeking missile and hissing through the air with equal single-minded purpose!
"Your Excellency!" Une cried in alarm, leaping over to his side. "STOP THAT MAN!" she bellowed at the rest of the mess hall.
//Zechs! He'll shoot you!!!// "Silver, he has a gun!!!"
Chaos broke out even as Une grabbed him by the forearm and hauled him out of the aisle to the safety underneath the table, taking a crouching stance over him and drawing her own gun protectively.
Treize struggled to get his feet back under his body. //I have to see-- there's more than one to this conspiracy, so where is this man's partner?!? Damn it--Zechs is in danger!//
But soldiers were milling about in confusion and uproar, and Lieutenant Une blocked Treize's only exit from the confines of typical aluminum cafeteria furniture. When he moved to emerge, she held up a warning hand.
"Sir, better if you stay low until this is sorted out," she suggested firmly, keeping herself crouched low probably on the same principle. "We can't get past the crush of people now anyway."
"Silver--!" Treize protested, pulling up his good leg into a semi-kneeling position. "They'll shoot--"
"'They'?" Une asked incredulously, worry filling her eyes in a sudden flood. "I thought we were after only one!"
//Now the cat's out of the bag. . . Damn this, I don't care! Zechs needs-- //
Gunfire at the far end of the mess hall interrupted that train of thought.
//ZECHS!!!//
At least part of Treize's mind continued to work. "SILVER!!!"
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The cat had surged after his target with such speed as would make a bird of prey proud. Every lunge was fluid grace, eating the distance like a starving wolf, gaining ground, sliding around the obstacles of moving men and benches like a fish.
//You. Die!//
Something made the injured soldier glance over his shoulder--and the man's face paled visibly in sheer terror at the sight that met him. He stumbled on a few steps further, then whirled, bringing gun to bear even as the cat leapt with deadly claws--
//Got you!!!//
Luck was on the soldier's side--he stumbled backwards, falling back even as he swung about, and those claws ripped into his good arm as the gun slammed into Zechs's shoulder, sending the cat flying sideways into a table with a crash.
//Ah!//
China, food, and aluminum table gave way, but so did a handful of rib- bones: they snapped audibly, a wet cracking like sodden branches, under the heavy impact.
Struggling back to his feet, the soldier sobbed in pain, gun falling from weakened fingers. "My God--my arms! My arms. . . !" he moaned, half- staggering towards the nearest door, trailing blood helplessly.
//Hurt--hurts--to hell with pain, I'm MAD!!!// Scrambling breathlessly, Zechs clawed his way back to his feet, oblivious to the food and shattered china dusting his fur, the deep marks his claws were screeching into the metal, or the pain punctuating every breath like an exclamation-point. Bloody rage settled over his eyes, and he lunged for the staggering soldier- -his prey!
He sensed the movement more than caught it at the periphery of his vision-- just before he heard the sharp retort of a gun firing--
But that was enough warning for such as he.
Zechs leapt lithely sideways, felt slivers of concrete prick through the thick fur of his front paws as bullets just missed him, ricocheting off the floor and pinging into the aluminum behind him.
//Another one! /The/ other one?// Sharp ice-blue eyes whirled to this new target even as he anticipated another shot and leapt behind an overturned bench.
//No matter--the other can be caught later, but this needs to be dealt with NOW!//
A glimpse was all Silver needed to pinpoint the shooter's location, then he was surging as fast as his paws could go behind the partial protection of the bench, to duck under a table and vanish from the man's view.
"SILVER!!!" Treize hollered in the panic following those shots.
//Not now Treize--that probably brought his attention to you!// Slipping from table to table, between running soldiers and scrambling civilian staff, trying to keep to cover, he began circling towards this new target as quickly as he could. //I hope Lieutenant Une is a good shot. . .//
By now, though, a fair number of soldiers and civilians had fled, though others had pulled guns and seemed to have no idea what they should be doing with them.
//Idiots! Better if you just get out of the way!// But they were the least of his concerns. . .
Instinct growled that this sound shooter had a hunt in mind. Unfinished business to take care of. Who cares about a cat when someone who could speak has to be silenced swiftly? It takes a hunter to know one. It takes a hunter to guess another hunter's plan. . .
//I have to get into place in time!//
It takes a hunter to kill one.
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Treize glanced about at the near-empty mess hall around them, the tumbled aluminum tables and benches, the trampled food, dishes, and food trays on the concrete floor. //Damn it, all I have on me is my decorative sword-- that won't do anything against a gunman! Silver--Zechs--be alright, be safe!//
The shooting had stopped. . . and it didn't sound as if the gunman had died this time--no shrieks or growls.
//Zechs. . .// Treize pleaded softly to himself, worried. //I'll never forgive myself if I've brought you here to your death.//
Lieutenant Une straightened after a few moments, warily scanning about the carnage with gun at ready. "It seems clear now, Sir," she murmured.
//I refuse to hide any longer, then!// Gripping the edge of the table, Treize pulled himself to his feet, clicking cane-tip to concrete to ease his aching leg. Wild maneuvers like that reminded his body that it had /not/ finished healing yet, and it sent him sharp, painful memos to return that fact to his attention. //Shit, shit, and more shit! My doctor will kill me if I ripped the ligaments of my knee and ankle yet /again/. . . I need to be able to move right now, and my leg's even worse! What /else/ can go wrong?//
Footsteps approached, as if in answer, and both he and Lieutenant Une turned to see Lieutenant Shimmel carefully picking his way through the mess on the floor, eyes scanning warily around as he drew closer, his gun bared in his hand. "Lieutenant Une? Your Excellency! You're alright! I think the man fled outside--he's left a trail of blood. . . ," he announced with relief.
Treize ran a grimy hand through his hair to brush a couple stray hairs out of his eyes, sagging with relief against both his cane and the table he'd just used to lever to his feet. //Shimmel. Thank God! A friendly face in this place!// "Someone is after him?" he inquired grimly. //Perhaps Zechs. . . ?//
His Uncle's former aide drew even with the pair of them, his very presence reassuring them both. Une put the safety back on her gun and returned it to the holster at her side, gazing after the last of the departing soldiers with cold eyes. . .
"Several soldiers have probably run him down as we speak. As I said, he was bleeding rather heavily--I just missed him at the door," Shimmel admitted a touch sheepishly. Pausing, he, too, scanned about the mess hall, though there was something in his eyes. . .
Something icy in his eyes. . . which seemed to be looking for something. . .
//Where is Zechs?// "And Silver? Have you seen him?" Treize added, feeling a twitch between his shoulderblades. //Something. . . is not right. I can feel it, but I can't pinpoint it. . . !//
Shimmel sounded distracted, but murmured, "I saw your cat chasing the man, but after that? No. . ."
Une eyed Treize curiously a moment, before her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She, too, must have picked up that strange feeling. . .
//Like something is stalking you. . . ,// Treize decided with a slight shudder. //And. . . is Shimmel mixed up in this?// "Lieutenant Shimmel. . . ," he began.
The man's gun lifted as if in slow motion, barrel pointed for the young Specials General's heart. "Yes," the man stated coolly. "It's time to clean up, General. Before that damn cat of yours makes a nuisance of itself again."
//Zechs! He must have shot--!// Deep blue eyes stared steadily at the gun leveled at his chest, and Treize let his breath out in a drawn sigh, trying to steady his whirling emotions--rage, fear, a depthless sorrow. . . //He killed Zechs!//
//He's going to kill /me/. . .//
"One twitch and he's dead, Une!" Shimmel snapped.
Treize, jerked from his shock, glanced at the young lady standing only ten feet away, and smiled sadly at the sight of her practically growling in frustrated helplessness. //He will kill her, too, after he's certain I'm dead.//
"Your gun--two fingers and slide it on the floor over there." Shimmel's free hand gestured down a debris-filled isle.
With a soundless snarl, Lieutenant Une slowly obeyed, taking her gun from the holster with only two fingers, and tossing it so it skittered into the debris of interrupted dinner.
"Why?" Treize whispered, watching the gun vanish from sight--and probably any hope of easy recovery--amid the ruined food and shattered china. //I want to know that much before I die. . . Before I join my Uncle, my parents. . . Zechs. . .//
Shimmel smiled without humor, a death's head grin, eyes heartlessly cold. "They--" a hand indicated others in the conspiracy "--think this is to shut up silly ideas of peace with the colonies. But you and I know better, Treize. . . and soon just I will know. I'm preventing a second war. . ."
Ice filled Treize's stomach--he didn't catch Lieutenant Une's bewildered expression to the side. //He's against Uncle's plan! The /traitor/!!! He knew--he knew every detail, he helped plan all this /with/ Uncle Catalonia! Who has he told? How many others know?!?// "The Alliance. . . ?" he breathed, wondering. . .
Catalonia's former aide smirked. "I haven't babbled around, Treize. Do you think I'm stupid? Only one knows, but don't you see that others already are wary towards the Specials? It would never have worked. . . A silly dream of conquest through revolution. And without you, it's nothing more than a dream. . ." The smirk shifted into a full triumphant smile. "Goodbye, Your Excellency!"
A snarl interrupted before Shimmel's lips could close on that final word.
//Zechs!!!// It was a mental cry of relief and fear for his friend. . .
Treize stared as in slow motion, the soldier's brown eyes widened in surprise and fear, watched as the man whirled completely around to face the attack, lifting the barrel of the gun slightly and raising his other arm defensively. . . The young General gasped as he glimpsed a silvery blur soaring through the air with talons unsheathed and bloody fangs bared to tear and rend, heavy paws thudding into Shimmel's chest with the punishing power of a boxer's KO shot.
The gun went off before the pair hit the ground.
"Silver--!" Treize breathed, lunging for them, abandoning his cane to clatter to the floor. //Did he--? Is he--? Damn it, Zechs, are you suicidal?!?//
Une was faster--she caught two fistfuls of silvery-pale mane and hauled at the cat, trying to lift him off the gunman--then froze, making a sickened noise, face blanching.
Treize took one look and grimaced, suddenly glad he hadn't started eating yet. //Zechs. . . Now I understand why you so hate to kill. . . and why you think of yourself as a monster.//
Silver's jaws were still closed about the man's throat, or rather, what remained of Shimmel's throat after sharp incisor teeth had done their work. Blood soaked the pair--and began soaking the ground by Treize's and Une's knees--in a steady flow. His head raised by Une's grip--he brought the man's throat up in chunks with her pull--enraged ice-blue eyes claimed the kill with the ferocity of a successful hunter of the mountains, glaring at both humans in warning.
"Silver. . . ," Treize whispered, touching a hand to that bloody ruff. "It's over--you killed him. . . Let go." //Let go, Zechs. . . Please. . . I need to know if you're hurt--I need /you/! Remember your humanity. . . please. Before your instincts take you further. . . I don't know if I can reach you if you let them take control.//
//I don't want to lose you, Zechs. I just found you!//
Fiery eyes stared into his. . . Lovely ice-blue eyes, eyes whose ferocity hurt him, whose anger frightened him, whose pain worried him. . .
"My Silver. . ."
Those fiery eyes cooled slowly, and jaws opened slowly, letting the mangled head thud to the concrete with a sickening impact. Levering up to bloodied paws, Silver stepped off the nearly decapitated carcass, and staggered slightly, panting heavily through blood-covered jaws.
Now Treize could see better-and finally find where that last bullet had gone:
//Oh no. . . Dorothy will kill me when we get back--but thank God, it doesn't look fatal!//
Through Zechs's ribs. Just the edge, perhaps just clipping the edge of a lung, the entrance and exit holes only a couple inches apart and more ends of a furrow than holes in the thick fur. But it was bleeding thickly, and the cat was breathing shallowly, frequently, excessively out of breath. No telling if the lung had been hit, not with Shimmel's and the other assassin's blood thick in his jaws and matting the rest of his fur. Already, however, Silver was a little unsteady on his feet, worn out, battered, and losing blood. . .
//Damn, damn, damn. . . Hang on, Zechs.// Treize whipped out his trusty Swiss Army knife and began snapping the buttons off his uniform jacket in a hurry. He caught a glimpse of Une salvaging Shimmel's radio even as he began cutting strips off the jacket to bind Silver's injuries.
"This is Lieutenant Une. Assassin down in the mess hall. We need a medic-- do any on this damn base have any skill with animals?!? Just get someone down here, pronto! And why the hell aren't any of you idiot MPs in here?!? . . . Yes, I see--Shimmel told you to guard outside. Just get your asses in here /now/, or I'll have the lot of you cited for incompetence!"
Smiling a little at the overheard exchange, Treize wrapped layer after layer of thick blue cloth around Silver's ribs, as the cat sat patiently, eyes closed. //I think Une will be /my/ aide, as soon as I can get the right papers for her transfer. . .//
The cat's massive head turned briefly, interrupting Treize's work. . . to give the young General's bandage-filled hand a sandpapery lick, icy eyes almost apologetic as they gazed into his own. . .
"I was worried about you, Silver," Treize murmured softly, taking a moment to scratch behind a furry ear with his free hand. //There's so much more I want to say. . . but can't, not with Une here to overhear. Later. . . Sometime later. . .// Smiling wryly, he added, "I /would/ say never to try such an idiot stunt again. . . but you probably won't have to. Dorothy's going to /kill/ me for letting you get hurt too now!"
Silver simply. . . cat-smiled. And snorted in amusement, seeming to pretend that any pain was merely a figment of an overly-determined imagination.
Groaning softly under his breath, Treize resumed wrapping. //Oh God, that's right. . . Two of us invalided now, and under *Shudder!* Dorothy's supervision!// "Between me wrenching my leg yet /again/, and you busting up your ribs. . . she's never going to let us leave the house again, Silver!" he pointed out unhappily.
The cat sighed, rolling icy eyes.
Treize tied off a last layer of bandaging, relieved to see that the outermost layer was not yet bloody. //Good, the bleeding is slowing. I must have bound it with enough pressure to help. . .//
Someone was. . . laughing?
//It's /not/ funny! I've had enough mothering from Dorothy already!//
Treize rounded on a laughing Lieutenant Une sharply, and lifted an admonishing finger. "Keep that up, Lieutenant Une, and I'll whack your foot with my cane so you can /join/ our upcoming misery!" he threatened half-heartedly.
Une visibly struggled to compose her face--but wasn't terribly successful-- as she lifted her hand in a sharp salute and barked, "Yes Sir, Your Excellency Sir!"
And promptly resumed laughing at him.
Treize covered his face with a hand and sighed. //Why /me/? My aide laughs at me, my niece bosses me--probably the /top/ general of the world-- around like a younger brother, . . . and my lover is a huge cat who threatens to piddle on my leg. And I haven't even /started/ commanding the Specials yet! And speaking of cats piddling. . .//
Clattering boots announced the arrival of the MPs finally, as neatly- uniformed soldiers ran up to the pair.
//Good! I was about to get /really/ pissed myself. . . !//
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To be continued.
Due to Fanfiction.net's policies, this story will be continuing at Rogue11's website soon, due to the evolving relationship of 13x6 and violence. What can I say? Not much option. But hey, she puts up other stories that can't continue on Fanfic.net, too, and if you have one you'd like to re-house, contact her or check out her site at: http://www.gundam-wing-universe.net/