Shinigami's Revenge
By Mieren
Wufei knew it was coming. He just didn't know when it would happen. Or what 'it' was going to be, for that matter. The only thing he knew was that he was doomed.
Trowa had unknowingly flashed several hundred people before realizing what the braided menace had done. And the newspapers were still having a field day over the debacle of the Winner sex slave. Wufei had no illusions about escaping that easily.
The pranks had started several days ago, all of them relatively small in the beginning, gradually growing worse. Every incident was focused unerringly on the Chinese pilot. He had woken up one morning to find his hair a brilliant, glow-in-the-dark fuchsia. That night, he had found his mattress replaced with lime Jello, forcing him to sleep on the floor. The following morning, he nearly lost several toes after stepping on a mousetrap that had been placed conveniently outside the door to his room. By the time afternoon rolled around, he made the mistake of relaxing. He realized his mistake promptly when he found himself epoxied to the toilet seat. It took two hours of cursing and scrubbing at his ass with solvent before he managed to free himself. Of course, the solvent hadn't been IN the bathroom. It had taken nearly an hour of shouting about injustice before Quatre finally took pity on him and brought in the bottle of chemicals. By the color of the blonde's face, he had been laughing himself sick for some time.
The third day, Wufei nearly went into an epileptic fit. Thinking that he would escape whatever prank had been planned for the day by working on his Gundam, he went to the hanger. The first thing he saw was a series of greenhouse lights. He was confused about the lighting until he looked at Shenlong and his blood began to boil. The formerly pristine Gundam had been transformed into the world's largest, scariest Chia Pet. The entire machine was carpeted by healthy green plant life. Full of grasshoppers.
It took him almost two days of nonstop work to get all of the vegetation off his Gundam. When he returned to the Winner mansion, he was exhausted, sweaty and pissed. He stormed to his room, not surprised when everyone avoided him. Even finding no new pranks waiting for him in his room did little to mollify his temper or his budding migraine.
Grumbling about injustice under his breath, he grabbed the bottle of his migraine pills off of his desk and poured four of the little blue pills into his waiting palm. He normally only took two at a time, but he felt that the situation merited the increase in dose. Not bothering with water, he swallowed the pills dry. He barely remembered to grab a change of clothes and a towel on his way to the bathroom. He really needed a shower. After all of the work on cleaning up his garden of a Gundam, he was certain he reeked.
Wufei had been relaxing in the soothing spray of hot water for nearly half an hour when something slowly clicked in his mind. All the blood drained from his face.
"My pills aren't blue," he whispered, eyes wide.
The moment the words passed his lips, a fiendish giggle sounded right outside the shower stall an instant before the door to the bathroom slammed shut. There was a grunt of effort and a loud thump. Another giggle sounded before all noise outside ceased. Wufei sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"When I get out of here, you're a dead man, Maxwell," he growled to himself.
He turned to step out of the shower when a certain aspect of his body made itself known. Blood rushed to Wufei's cheeks, the Chinese pilot knowing exactly what the small blue pills had been and that he wouldn't escape their effect for some time. He briefly considered getting even with the braided idiot before remembering that revenge had been responsible for his current predicament. Mindful of his own health, he decided not to retaliate, honestly fearful of what the spastic lunatic could come up with if sufficiently provoked.
Knowing that the situation wouldn't get any better no matter how long he waited, he flung open the shower curtain and glared at what he saw waiting for him. His clothes and towel were missing. On the counter was a large tube of lube. In the middle of the room, an inflatable sheep awaited him.
Wufei cursed in Chinese for ten minutes straight.
Frustration set in and he began squirming uncomfortably. Already knowing the door was locked, and unwilling to go out unclothed in his condition, he decided to wait it out. His resolution lasted approximately five minutes.
Obscenities rang through the small room a second time as he scanned diligently for a camera, not trusting the American pilot to embarrass him. After ten minutes of meticulous searching, he decided that the spastic moron hadn't planted a camera in the small room.
Hesitant, he reached for the large tube on the countertop. He examined it thoroughly to make sure it wasn't some sort of trick. His final conclusion was that the tube didn't contain any type of glue, itching powder, dye or perfume. He briefly wondered if it contained hormones of any sort before dismissing the thought. If the braided pilot wanted to use any sort of chemicals, enzymes or hormones on him, he would have placed them somewhere far less obvious.
He was so tense that he didn't last three strokes before he came. Tossing his head back and groaning, Wufei waited for the inevitable. Within a dozen heartbeats, he was at attention again. With a loud groan, he began again, wondering drearily how long the drug Duo had slipped him would last.
* * *
Two hours later, Wufei was eyeing the sheep with wary interest.
Logically, he knew that there was some trap involved in the inflatable creature. The combination of the drugs he was on and his hormones protested that the blow-up creature was available and that his arms were quickly becoming exhausted. The pills that Duo had placed in his migraine medication had showed no signs of easing their iron control over his system and he knew that eventually he would have to give in.
Wondering bleakly how it would come back to haunt him, he moved towards the inflated sheep that was waiting not three feet from him.
* * *
The following morning found Wufei in his bed with no knowledge of how he had gotten there. Moaning softly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, wondering silently what had happened the day before. The answer came to him when his right elbow encountered a hard mass on the bed. Wufei glanced at the rectangular object, confused for a moment before his groggy mind registered what it was.
A videotape was lying innocently on the pillow beside him, a note attached to the harmless looking tape. He glared at it for several seconds before ripping off the short letter.
Hey Wu-pu Chang-a-lang!
I'm sure you already know what's on this. If not, watch and enjoy. And for your peace of mind, I only made one copy, which I do NOT have in my possession. Guess who I gave it to!
That'll teach you to mess with the almighty Shinigami!
Duo
Wufei groaned, his imagination running wild. Every thought on who could have received the copy was worse than the last. Beating his head into the pillow, he had to forcibly remind himself that retaliating would only earn him worse grief.
* * *
Though surprised at receiving a package from Wufei, the recipient didn't hesitate before slipping the carefully wrapped tape into the old beaten VCR hidden in the corner of the small office. Wide blue eyes watched, stunned, as the video proceeded, the slender Chinese pilot on film roughly taking an inflatable plastic barnyard animal from behind.
"I never would have imagined," a stunned voice murmured. A grin suddenly appeared on the formerly shocked face. A snicker sounded in the previously silent room. "Blackmail material. Wufei is mine now and he can't say a thing about it."
Still smirking and fighting back giggles, Sally Po retrieved the tape and placed it in a secure safe before leaving her office.
To Be Continued…
Okay. Wufei's been had. Who's next? Want to guess? Want to vote? THEN REVIEW!!!
And you better appreciate this. I have a final tomorrow and I took a break in studying to get this out. Prove you love me and R&R!
