That's Childish, So Childish. . .
Chapter Twenty-Four: Behind The Cricket Pavilion
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YES! I am back on the case!
Disclaimer--I don't own it. My fish all died, by the way. Yes, old age-- they only live maybe 3 years, max, for their species, and you get them grown up after they take up most of that. . . They're not goldfish, after all.
Warnings--I think this chapter's fairly safe. Yeesh, it's nothing compared to my Bound In Shadows fic over at Rogue11's site. ;) And yes, that's why this took so long--I was working on that one. Unfortunately, all the tales are going on hold or slow due to my clinicals, which go on into December! Sorry, guys.
And so we see a conference with cookies and cream. Sanc undergoes its first battle. . . quite unexpectedly, and much to the dismay of the palace cleanup crew, I imagine. Later, they find another way to burn off steam and sugar-highs, though Treize finally admits to Rashid just /why/ he is quite happy being a lesser component in this endeavor and why his soon departure with Trowa isn't that sorrowful an event.
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"Chocolate chip cookies!" Duo cried with sudden glee the instant he entered the conference room.
Even as he spoke, he became a black blur straight for the cause of that cry, dragging a streak of white in his wake because Zechs didn't let go of his belt fast enough. Not that Duo even noticed. Cookies nearly reflected in his wide, eager eyes like stars mirrored in a deep blue pool. Magnets had less strength in their connection--the young pilot practically /flew/ towards the heaped dish.
//COOKIES!!!!//
Cookie Monster from Sesame Street would have met his match if he faced Duo Maxwell on a hunt for sugar. One could attribute that to his past, one in which no mother was available to bake or buy such luxuries, though when he was older, Duo could afford to purchase a box on the rare occasion. Scarcity made that homely food his greatest weakness, however--he couldn't get enough. And home-baked, which outclassed the store-bought as diamonds out-classed cut glass, was, in Duo's opinion, just one short step from pure Heaven. As the many Mastercard commercials proclaimed, some things in the world are just simply priceless--and a good, fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie with chips that melt in your hand, in Duo's opinion, was one of them.
"Baka, leave some for the rest of us, too," Heero grumbled, striding a bit more slowly in the pair's wake to rescue one by plucking it directly from Duo's eager hands. But despite his gruff tone and chiding words, the amused gleam in his eyes suggested that he really didn't mind all that much.
Cautiously, Zechs peered around Duo's body at the dessert plate to try and fathom just what the dark-clad man could be so fanatical about, not letting go of the braided pilot's belt. Too busy heaping cookies onto a paper plate, Duo didn't even notice that he had an observer until he started turning from the service table towards the conference table, almost elbowing the boy in the face as he did so.
//Yikes! Watch out, kiddo!// "Hey, didn't see you there, kiddo! What's up?" the cheerful Deathscythe pilot asked. His eyes fell to those hands still firmly glued to his belt before he added, "Don't you think you can let go? You're safe here."
The young boy blinked, then flushed warmly, scarlet touching his cheeks in embarrassment. "I'm. . . sorry," Zechs whispered shyly, slowly releasing the supple leather and wriggling his fingers free from between it and Duo's waist.
//He's much more subdued now. Has meeting his sister sent him reverting even further? I hope not.//
Glancing about, Duo hid a frown, considering the environment, looking for something to distract or cheer the blonde boy up with. Heero had claimed a seat at the far end of the conference table with his stolen half-eaten cookie steadily undergoing destructive nibbles, and pitchers of coffee and water waited near him for the other alliance members to utilize upon arrival. Otherwise, there was just Duo himself, the huge tray of cookies fit to satisfy a school of chocoholics, a couple pitchers of milk and orange juice, a selection of pop cans for any caffeine freaks among them, and a tidy stack of paper plates, napkins, and crystal clear glass cups.
//Cookies. . .//
An idea struck.
Passing his heaping plateful to a startled Zechs, Duo smirked. "Here, help me with this. Have you ever dunked a cookie before?" he tried. //I bet he hasn't. . .//
A bewildered look crossed the boy's face as the heaped plate ended up in his hands before he could protest, and as he stared at them in surprise, he shook his head slowly to emphasize, "No. . ."
Heero glanced up from across the room, frowning. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.
//Heero never dunked cookies before, either?// Then again, thinking about how well Heero was trained, and the likelihood that he almost never did anything fun as a result, it became a rather logical conclusion. Well, only if you had the leisure time to actually travel down that trail of deductions. Up until now, Duo certainly hadn't. //Well hell! Guess I have two pupils in this!//
Pouring three glasses of milk to the brim, Duo caught up a cookie to throw at Heero--who plucked it deftly from the air, of course--before picking up the drinks and carrying them in its wake. "Cookie-dunking is an old tradition, guys. /Everyone/ has to try it once in their lives! So I'm going to teach you how," the braided pilot proclaimed smugly. "You have to work at the technique, you know."
From the lost expressions on their faces, his audience did /not/ know. In fact, they were probably struggling to imagine how anything so simple could involve any kind of strategy at all!
"Dipping it in milk is not a difficult activity," Heero observed wryly, neatly-caught cookie currently undergoing intense visual assessment as if he thought Due had booby-trapped it somehow. He clearly wasn't certain what Duo was trying to accomplish here, and suspected mischief of some sort.
If only he knew. . .
Zechs set the plate of cookies down within reach of all three of them, glance traveling from one Gundam pilot to the other, then hesitantly picked up a cookie and drew a glass of milk closer to his chosen seat. "What exactly is the point behind it?" he wanted to know, curiosity edging his voice despite his silent compliance.
//Good. It's getting him back out of his shell. . . and surprisingly, Heero, too! This might be a better idea than I originally imagined. Never knew the ultimate social ice-breaker could be cookies and milk. . .//
Grinning broadly at the pair, Duo selected a cookie for himself at random and poised it over his own milk glass, shoving the last glass closer to Heero to encourage the other Gundam pilot's participation in this ritual. "It makes it /taste/ better! Why else?"
//I think they'll get a kick out of this.//
Grinning smugly, the braided Gundam pilot held up his selection deftly, and began explaining the mechanism and theory with all the cheer of a little kid--and the expert assessment of a soldier.
"To start with, you hold it like so. Milk's usually damn freezing, and I don't know about anyone else, but I don't care for frostbite--therefore, the less of you that ends up in the milk, the better. However, we want the whole cookie to absorb, so your grip must remain small, but be careful that you don't grip too close to the edge where it can crumble apart on you prematurely. Crumbs in milk aren't the same, you know! Now, absorption is proportional to the time it stays in the milk. . . Personally, I like it as soggy as possible, but too soggy and it falls apart before you can eat it, so you have to try various levels to find your own preferences. . ."
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A good two hours later, Zechs contemplated drowning cookies simply as a means of staving off boredom.
//I like them very soggy, too. . . but my fingers are too numb to continue this. They hurt from the cold!//
The sugar had already kicked in, leaving him restlessly flicking chunks of mutilated cookie across the table from one chocolate-stained hand to the other. He couldn't possibly swallow any more, the allure of chocolate not withstanding--nor take another gulp of milk.
//If I do, I'm going to throw up. I want to. . . I want to be doing /something/. I mean, we looked at the base's plans and my crude maps, but how far do they expect to detail their plans? We don't know enough! Whatever we do will have to be subject to quick changes in the last minute-- or in the field.//
For some reason, Miri found it difficult to concentrate on the discussion at hand. Perhaps because he had little to contribute, and the first thing he had been told was "You're not going!"
Well, that would curb anyone's enthusiasm for the project.
Not that he intended to obey that statement. The others planned to depart early the next morning on a pair of transport planes, two Gundams in each, and the blonde boy intended to be aboard before--and during--take off. Stowing away couldn't be that difficult. After all, he'd stolen his own plane before this.
//I'm small, I'm fast, I'm smart, and there are plenty of places to hide. . .//
"So Heero and I will hunt around in this sector, and then you, Quatre, can chop out this signal tower at the other end. . ." Duo was suggesting, prodding a mark on the map before all of them.
"If no suits remain at that point," Wufei interjected, "I will start taking out the generators. The sirens are very annoying. . ."
A faint smile touched Zechs's lips at that personal comment. Little by little, his friendship with the Gundam pilots was growing over time. //I learn something new about them every day.//
"Then might I recommend hitting this corner of the electrical compound?" Treize threw in from his seat beside Duo, tapping the point under comment with one gloved finger as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips with the other for a sip to wet his throat. "That way you take out the main line to the sirens. There are backup generators beneath the administrative building that you cannot reach, and they would still supply the vital functions of the base if you took the others out."
//At least Quatre looks as bored as I do. I don't think he has terribly much experience with input coming from all sides making all this /too/ flexible!// Miri mused, eyeing the boy across the table from him and noting the other blonde's tired expression. ///He/ probably sees that it'll depend on what we find there, even if the other's don't yet.//
Poor Quatre simply glanced at the map, at the fingers gesturing at various points on it, and finally at the broken cookie chunks representing the various Gundams they were thinking of coordinating--and sighed softly. To his right, Trowa was dozing, unconcerned and trusting the rest to hash out a decent plan without him. After all, tomorrow Trowa and Treize were going to take the majority of ex-Oz troops off to Luxemburg to collect the scientists and set up defenses at that strategic point. Romefeller would have to get through them before attacking Sanc itself.
To Trowa's right, Wufei was leaning forward, pondering Treize's suggestion intently, his gaze burning holes in the map over a frown of concentration, intrigued by the details of this plan. To /his/ right, at the head of the conference table, sat Heero, laptop plugged in but idle to his left, his sharp eyes following everyone's contributions, though he had declined to comment on these details yet.
To Quatre's left, Rashid also frowned thoughtfully at the map, probably planning the best drop-off points for the Gundams and their pilots prior to the attack, and where to pick them all up. That would vary with the attack sequences, and the results of the attack, after all--success meant anywhere would be good, but failure limited the man's options significantly. To his left sat Howard, who was idly perusing a magazine, leaving this mess entirely up to the others to plan.
Duo had a seat on Heero's right, across the table from Wufei, and was the one who had originally broken a cookie to represent their machines. Beside him, Zechs sat, bored, followed by Treize, Noin, and Sally. Treize and Noin were in their element as strategic experts, especially considering their extensive knowledge as to the standard layout of earth's military bases, and occasionally offered insight as to this attack and that. On the other hand, Sally had bigger concerns, and was studying printouts of the data they had available on the Phoenix Project, hunting for anything that could be a clue as to where the project might be currently housed on the base, and which locations might have stored data concerning the medical details they wanted. Otherwise, Duo and Heero would be running around the base rather aimlessly--a dangerous thing to do when outnumbered at about a thousand to one!
//But I really don't think it matters what order they take out the mobile suit and plane hangers in. . . They just need Wufei and Quatre to keep things busy--without shutting down the base's power-supply--or they can't check out the computers to /find/ that data. We really don't need to hash this out so much!//
Sally's voice brought Zechs out of his wandering thoughts. "Well, here's something to look for, at least," she sighed in resignation. "Look for this Biohazard sign--marking a whole sector as a danger--and then hunt around for the Phoenix Project emblem."
The ex-Alliance doctor held out two strange symbols. The first was a bright orange triad of broken circles, the universal sign for Biohazard and kindly enough having the word written in big bold letters beneath it, just in case a symbol wasn't enough. The other was a blue rendition of a silhouetted bird, rather akin to the old symbol used by Pontiac for an ancient kind of twentieth-century car called a "Firebird", gold lettering beneath it pronouncing the name of the project. Both would likely be easy enough to memorize, even for an idiot.
Heero reached out to accept her samples of both symbols as they were passed around to him, Prussian blue eyes immediately memorizing. After a minute, he passed them to Duo. "What type of data do we need?" he asked the doctor quietly.
"Documents, statistics, test analysis performed, Zechs's blood values and recordings of all drug and medication dosages during his captivity," the ex- Alliance Major offered, chewing her lip as she considered. "/Anything/ regarding techniques and chemical compounds involved. Data on preliminary tests performed on rats--if they have any, but I suspect they did at least /some/ kind of preliminary testing of the stuff they used on people. Background research resources that made them come up with the notion of making such a drug to begin with. Pretty much anything, really. What Zechs managed to scrounge before leaving is piecemeal, and I need more to go on than guesses."
Miri sighed softly, still flicking a crumb from one hand to the other. //I imagine a lot of the important stuff was encoded and locked behind numerous passwords that terminal I used couldn't access.//
"So. . . we raid the infirmary, then the brig sectors--" Duo revised.
"Too far apart," Heero corrected firmly, pointing at how those were in separate buildings. "You take engineering, then the prison sectors in order of proximity. I'll check the infirmary, then the administrative section, then see if they are using some of the unused living quarters. We need to work fast."
"Engineering? They don't play with people, Heero!"
"But they do a lot of research, and they might keep all the base's projects' data together. Besides, they're in the same building as the brig- -if they use the one, they likely stayed in the same building."
"Hell. Sally, are you sure you can't make it easier to pinpoint where they keep all this info? We'll be hunting around the bloody place all day!"
//This will take another hour,// Miri sighed softly to himself.
Tuning out again, Zechs pondered who he could flick cookie chunks at without getting shot at. Not Trowa--a sudden wake-up call might get a violent reaction, considering he /was/ a well-trained Gundam pilot and an ex-mercenary to boot. Rashid didn't have much of a sense of humor for Zechs to rely on. Wufei, undoubtedly, wouldn't consider physical bombardment amusing. And Howard--he had no idea, as he barely knew the man beyond his name. . .
//Quatre looks like he could use such a diversion, though,// he decided mischievously. So, taking careful aim, he let fly.
Flick!
The blonde Gundam pilot started as a small chunk of cookie stung his hand, and immediately looked up--to catch Zechs's inviting, playful smirk. A slow smile touched Quatre's lips in echo, those tired blue eyes lighting up with playful glee. A hand immediately grabbed a couple cookies from the plateful by the map everyone else was intent on, and began breaking them up into smaller ammunition.
Smile broadening slightly, Zechs held back a grin as he also collected more cookie "ammo", and he eyed the other blonde through a fringe of near-white bangs.
Quatre eyed him back with sly intent, poised and waiting for Zechs to be ready. . .
//Here we go!//
As if cued to both start at the same moment, the bombardments across the table began at the drop of an invisible flag.
Flick! Flick! Flick-flick-flick-flick-flick!!!
Cookie chunks shot back and forth across the table, a couple jumping the map as the rest plowed into the "gundams", one stinging Duo's hand before he could pull it out of the range of fire, another ricocheting off Rashid's coffee mug to land on top of Sally's papers, one bouncing off Zechs's milk to hit Wufei's water-glass and fly back across the table to land in Noin's soda with a clink, another cracking off Quatre's mug to end up in Treize's coffee with a splash that stained the man's white glove.
"Hey!" An astonished--and stung--Duo, shaking his hand.
"Nani!?" A wide-eyed Heero staring at dismay at the map--whose "Gundams" had suddenly relocated, fragmented, and multiplied.
"Zechs. . . !" Treize, suddenly in a paternal mood--the admonishing, disciplining kind.
The crossfire halted in an instant, as two pairs of sheepish blue eyes surrounded by blonde-white bangs shifted from each other to Treize.
"My drink!" An unhappy Noin, staring at her pop can in disbelief, trying to guess the odds of what had just happened and finding them too strongly against the reality of what just occurred for her to believe her eyes.
Sally merely blinked at the mess on her papers.
Rashid, on the other hand, retreated in his seat as if interested in trying to hide behind the limited protection of his coffee mug.
Arching an eyebrow slowly, Wufei looked from one blonde culprit to the other--then at his glass of water--as if thinking up some form of revenge.
"Hmm?" Howard looked up over the edge of his sunglasses--and smiled knowingly.
//But Treize. . .// Zechs sighed, giving his oldest friend a "puppy-dog" look, pleading in silence. //I'm BORED!!!//
At that moment, Quatre gave a quiet giggle, and flicked one at /Treize/.
It ricocheted off the man's unstained hand and struck Trowa in the chest with almost bruising force, making the ex-Oz General swear in pain, and snapping the tall Gundam pilot awake in an instant.
Trowa's eyes fixed the opposite side of the table with an icy, disapproving glare of death that did Heero proud.
//Uh-oh.// Miri cringed in his seat. This didn't look good! "It was /him/," he protested weakly, pointing at Quatre across the table.
The cold glare turned to the other blonde, unwavering and accusing.
Sandrock's pilot flushed hotly enough to rival the desert sun, and smiled feebly, spreading his hands in a slight, apologetic shrug.
//Quatre's SO dead. . .// Guilt made Zechs pale a bit, ashamed and worried for his new friend. //It's all my fault--I started it.// But a glance revealed Treize still shaking his injured hand and glaring at both blondes in a manner that made him certain that Miri wouldn't escape this unscathed, either. The boy gulped. ///I'm/ dead, too!//
A spark touched Trowa's eyes, and they narrowed. Heavyarms's pilot reached to claim a couple cookie bits that remained of Quatre's ammunition, as if to take them out of the hands of a child, and confiscate them safely. . . then a slow, wicked smirk touched his lips.
"This means WAR!!!"
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All hell broke loose!
As if Trowa's words were a cue for the melee to begin, a mass scramble began for the remaining cookies. Whole cookies took flight this time, and they were thrown, not flicked. Wufei didn't bother joining the competition for them, however, and flung his water at Duo instead, making the braided pilot yell in dismay as his shirt was drenched down the front. Heero also avoided the fray, and grabbed the maps and vital documents Sally had passed to him earlier--barely rescuing them from the water from Wufei's mug--and along with his laptop, dove under the table for protection. Howard lifted his magazine and used it as a protective screen to hide behind, scrambling backward from the battle to escape. Sally just grabbed her things and /fled/.
//IEEEE!!! I need ammo! I need /protection/! I'm getting pelted and it /stings/!!!// Despite that, Miri laughed happily at the ensuing battle. Hey, at least it was certainly not boring anymore!
Zechs tried to shield himself with his arms, blindly throwing whatever came to hand as he struggled to retreat to the refreshment table. Meanwhile, Quatre was laughing as he and Trowa pelted each other with broken cookies, and poor Rashid, taking the brunt of /Zechs's/ attack in an effort to protect Quatre, could only bellow protests that nobody seemed willing to heed. Treize, following Wufei's example, flung his coffee at Nataku's pilot, who hollered in surprise. Noin, in turn, with a wicked grin, dumped her remaining soda on Treize's head, drawing a shriek of horror from her former superior. Duo lobbed a few cookies at Noin in passing, however, as he streaked past.
A gleeful Miri managed to escape to the refreshment table by the point that the table's activities became a true free-for-all, luckily. After all, it still had the last of the cookies, and all the remaining drinks! //Bingo! The ammunitions depot!//
Straightening behind the table, the boy reached for the plateful of cookies- -
--only to find Duo there, waiting for him with a double handful of crumbled cookies in hand!
Before Zechs could utter a shriek, he was under heavy attack. "Gotcha!" Duo laughed, pelting away like a horizontal rainstorm of baked goods.
//I won't go down /that/ easily!// Determinedly, Miri blindly grabbed the nearest thing, trying to deflect the worst of Duo's barrage from his face with his other hand--and closed his fingers on a pop can. //YES!!!//
Giving it a violent shake, Zechs grinned, whirled back to face Duo--and popped the top.
FIZZZZZZ!!!!
Soda spurted all over the braided man!
"Who's laughing now, braid-boy?" the blonde countered joyfully as Duo yelled and retreated, trying to protect his hair from getting soaked.
"I am," returned a cool voice behind Zechs.
//Heero?!?// Miri whipped about in alarm, but it was too late.
A whole pitcher of milk emptied itself over the white-blonde boy's head, drenching him from head to toe! And all he could do was laugh and splutter as it soaked him to the skin, accepting his fate with cheerful resignation. Looking up between white-dripping bangs, Zechs couldn't help a smile, especially at the sight of Heero's expression of quiet amusement and the empty pitcher still in Wing's pilot's hands. Prussian blue eyes were watching the chaos with a kind of strange fondness. . . like an older brother, in a way. Despite the fact that some of the members of the mayhem were well past his age. Or maybe /because/ of that age gap. . .
"Pick on someone your own size, Heero!"
That was all the warning Heero or Zechs had before Duo retaliated, grabbing a pitcher of orange-juice--and flinging the contents at them both!
Zechs yelped as a small portion got his arm--in one of the few remaining areas he wasn't /completely/ soaked by milk. Heero, on the other hand, gasped as the rest struck him as a wave full in the chest, the shock staggering him back.
Hands on hips, looking smug, Duo grinned back at the pair.
Short blonde boy and disgruntled-looking, serious brunette boy exchanged looks--and evil, conniving smiles.
//I'm with you on this, Heero!//
Duo took to his heels, laughing so hard he could barely keep his footing, as Miri and Heero each grabbed a couple pop cans and took off in pursuit.
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"You're /dead/, Maxwell!"
"What was that about /size/ again, Duo?!?"
"You guys have to catch me, first!"
"How do /you/ like your coffee, Noin?"
"EEEEK! I'll get you for that, Treize!"
"Ha! Weak--Itai!"
"Ha-ha! Got you, Wufei!"
"Barton--you're NEXT!!!"
"IEEE! /Master Quatre!!!/"
"There /are/ no allies in food-fights, Rashid!"
"GOD! Quatre, you're /vicious/! Watch where you throw those things!"
"Sorry, Duo!"
"Take /that/, Quatre!"
"IEEEE!!! Zechs, I thought you were after /Duo/!"
"Heero, what are you--!?!"
"There are NO sides in a food fight!"
A chorus of protests arose in harmony as suddenly /everyone/ was sprayed with soda by the Gundam pilot standing in the center of the conference table. "HEEEEEERRRRROOOO!!!!!!"
Thoroughly drenched now, that effectively brought the whole fray to a dripping, laughing halt finally.
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A couple hours later, Treize strode through the underground hangar complex with a rolling carry-on suitcase in tow, hair still a bit damp from a long luxurious soak.
//Nothing else gets soda pop out from your hair. . . And I thought Zechs was the regressed one. All I can say is, thank God Heero wasn't the lost Prince of Sank! He'd have been a disaster!//
Distantly, the ex-Oz general could hear the faint hum and clatter of Rashid's men and Howard's team working away at upgrading and improving the Gundams, probably some last-minute touches for Heavyarms before they load it up for travel. Tallgeese itself was currently mostly pieces, as it had the most need for upgrading and revision--mainly in an effort to keep it from killing Miri if he used it before a cure could be found.
//Rashid and Howard don't seem to be very hopeful about that. . . I'm not sure, myself. I want to hope, but--I'm worried. Zechs. . . he seems to have adapted a bit to the changes, but part of that could be through telling himself that it's only temporary, that he can endure it for a little while.// Shaking his head sadly, the dignified man sighed softly to himself. //I'm not sure the others see it. . . but he's still regressing, only the changes are more subtle now. He was very quiet and shy as a kid, even before Sank fell, I remember. Not that he was terribly social as an adult, but that was more--avoidance, caution. I wonder just how far he may regress, in the end. Completely? Will the man known as Zechs Marquise vanish?//
"Master Treize," Rashid greeted, turning to face him as the general entered the main hangar bay.
Smiling slowly, Treize nodded politely back. "Rashid. You had the energy to return to this after all that? I'm surprised everyone hasn't called it a day after that fracas!" //Mainly because they /had/ to scrub multiple times to finally get clean again. I know I certainly did!//
The taller man snorted, frowning slightly. "We wish," he rumbled wryly.
Arching a pronged brow, Treize couldn't help a slow smile. //Let me guess. . . Zechs, and a sugar-high, and extreme sports?// "Oh? Are the Gundam pilots helping you out?" he inquired. "Babysitting, perhaps? I'm surprised you managed to get him in here at all, though--considering Zechs's ties to this place."
"So long as you hold his attention on other things--something Duo appears to be very good at--he seems to endure staying here pretty well, actually. As for babysitting, however, well. . . Not. . . /quite/," Rashid returned, turning to lead the way through the various connected hangars towards the transporter plane where Treize could stow his luggage. "I'm not sure I would call it babysitting. . ."
"Gangway!!!" something yelled, before a streak of brown and blonde flew past, vanishing into the hangar's shadows before they could even finish crossing it.
//What the. . . ?!?// "Was that--?!?" Treize began, staring the way that streak had gone, amazed.
"Trowa, yes, and Master Quatre," the taller man confirmed, not breaking stride as they began to enter the next hangar.
"Rollerblading. . ."
"Trowa is teaching Master Quatre how to balance."
"What lead to that?"
Rashid merely glanced over his shoulder at Treize, arching a bushy eyebrow in a wry expression.
//You don't mean--!// The general froze, horrified. "WHAT? /All/ of them?!?" he exclaimed.
Pausing to turn, Rashid folded his arms across his chest--and nodded firmly. "Yes."
Sighing quietly in sympathy, the ex-Oz general ran a hand through the fading fuchsia of his hair. //You have my pity, for what it's worth, Rashid.// "Well," he offered weakly, "I suppose they have to do something to burn off all the sugar they consumed over the meeting. . ."
"YIPE!" A shorter blonde blur whizzed almost into them, but an arm leapt out to catch at Treize's jacket and use him as a stable object as momentum whipped that small form around the former leader of Oz in a 360-degree turn.
Treize looked up slowly where that blur had come from, only to see two more, larger, shadows barreling down at him. He could feel the blood drain from his face as Rashid casually but quickly--as only a man grown used to such chaos could--dodged to the right, out of their path.
//What the--!//
"There you are!" Duo bellowed triumphantly, set on his target and for all appearances, completely unaware of the other men in his path.
Heero, following ten feet behind Duo, merely grinned in a feral manner most unlike his usual emotionless self. Clearly he knew what was going on--and what was about to occur.
That was enough to make Treize suddenly wish he had already left.
Warned of danger by that yell announcing his pursuit, however, Zechs simply dodged under and between Treize's much taller legs, and let momentum shoot him over to Rashid, where he cut speed by performing figure eights about the man's feet.
Too late for others, however.
//Oh shi--!//
Treize went down in a flurry of metal-wrapped boots, bags, and flying copper-colored braid, as Duo crashed into him and sent them both flying a good ten feet. It felt rather like Treize's early days in school, when he had become a member of the rugby team--before he wisely shifted to /coaching/ it instead. He hadn't been tackled so well in decades. He had made it a point to /avoid/ such thing for decades!
//Owwwwww. . . Sweet Jesus, if he fights like he plays, no wonder the Gundams always win!//
Chuckling quietly, Heero whizzed safely past the tangled pair, and whirled in tight circles like an ice-skating champion as he watched the mess of limbs and clothes and bags attempt to resolve back into two separate entities again. "Baka. Kushrenada isn't playing!" he mock-scolded.
"Are you alright, Duo, Treize?" Miri called from the safety of behind Rashid, peering at the entangled pair with concern, blue eyes wide.
Moaning, Treize shoved the tail of Duo's braid off his nose, tried shoving his bag off Duo's legs, and helped the younger man get the front of a makeshift rollerblade out of his coat pocket. //I'm going to feel this tomorrow, I'm sure of it!//
"Sorry, man--aiming for the kid, you know. His turn to be 'It'!" Deathscythe's pilot explained cheerfully, carefully untangling legs and hair and limbs with expert ease. "This your suitcase? Sharp! Didn't know they made 'em in leather."
The ex-Oz general fought the urge to sigh as he returned to his feet and began brushing his clothes straight again. //This is going to feel like a vacation,// Treize promised himself silently, even as he made himself smile at the younger men in reassurance he wasn't sure of yet. //I think I wrenched a few things in that landing. At least it'll be quiet there in Luxembourg.//
"I'm all right, Mr. Maxwell. Are you?" he asked, setting his suitcase back on its wheels and glancing over it, making sure it wasn't too bent up to roll anymore. He had no intention of carrying the thing, if it died. //That's not /my/ job. I'm a sophisticated man, for heaven's sake! At least it looks like it will hold up for the duration of this trip.//
Brushing bangs out of his way, Duo gave him a thumb's-up and broad grin. "Good as new. Have a great trip, Treize!"
With that, he launched at Zechs and Rashid like a rocket off a launch pad, scaring the laughing seven-year-old into fleeing again, and with Heero on their heels, all three whirred off into the darkness again.
Only a chorus of laughter, squeaks, squeals, growls, and cheerful bellows echoed back to the two older men.
//They seem to have all regressed,// Treize mused, as he and Rashid finally wandered into the main hanger where his plane waited, his mobile suit already loaded up. //But then, did any of them have childhoods before this? I suspect not. So perhaps this is a good thing.//
Passing a mammoth pile of mobile suit parts that appeared to have started taking over half a hangar, he smiled over at Rashid. "Well, I imagine they deserve the chance to act their ages like this, considering everything else they have gone through and had to perform to reach this point," he offered gamely.
The Arabian man merely turned to blink at him.
//All right, so it's a good thing so long as /I/ can escape it.// Treize's smile turned sheepish. //I'm not a kid anymore. I can't keep up with Zechs on a sugar-high at this age.//
Rashid lifted a hand as well as his eyebrow this time, and pointed a finger directly above them.
Skates whirred louder, coming closer. . .
//Not again!//
The sophisticated General glanced up with trepidation.
A small figure shot off the top of the pile like a missile right over their heads, its arms spread like wings in flight, soaring to a far distant landing that he accepted with a breathless but triumphant gasp before momentum carried him off amid a whir of gundanium wheels.
Before Treize could even think of a comment, however, another shadow with a rope-like tail in its wake whooped loudly as it launched off the streamlined pile of metal right over their heads. This one spread his feet and slapped his makeshift skates at the height of his trajectory before making a perfect landing at a somewhat shorter distance and zipping off in hot pursuit.
Another figure followed closely but silently, doing a forward flip and the splits before making a neat and barely audible landing of his own, to vanish like a ghost. . .
A fourth squeaked as it became airborne, struggled to remain upright during its brief flight, and touched down in a shaky but decent manner, having shot a much shorter distance than the rest. He hollered to them to wait up as he struggled to regain speed and follow the others.
Treize breathed a sigh of relief. "At least Trowa's not so much into this crazy kind of sport," he sighed happily.
Skates whirred close again.
//Spoke to damn soon.//
Treize and Rashid watched, flabbergasted, as another shadowy form shot overhead, doing a multitude of expert flips, twirls, and tumbles, before making a perfect landing--/backwards/--a good distance away, not losing an ounce of momentum.
Defeated, the ex-Oz general sighed glumly.
Then a last shadow shot overhead with a sharp yell--
"ITAI!!! Are you are all /suicidal/?!?"
--as Wufei made an awkward landing and struggled to catch up with the others.
//Wufei?!?// Treize's jaw dropped as he watched and listened to that last figure grumble in his efforts to pursue the rest of the players. //You know. . . Maybe it's time I got myself a set of skates, then. . .//
----------------------------------------------------------------------- To be continued. Dunno when, but hopefully soon.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Behind The Cricket Pavilion
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YES! I am back on the case!
Disclaimer--I don't own it. My fish all died, by the way. Yes, old age-- they only live maybe 3 years, max, for their species, and you get them grown up after they take up most of that. . . They're not goldfish, after all.
Warnings--I think this chapter's fairly safe. Yeesh, it's nothing compared to my Bound In Shadows fic over at Rogue11's site. ;) And yes, that's why this took so long--I was working on that one. Unfortunately, all the tales are going on hold or slow due to my clinicals, which go on into December! Sorry, guys.
And so we see a conference with cookies and cream. Sanc undergoes its first battle. . . quite unexpectedly, and much to the dismay of the palace cleanup crew, I imagine. Later, they find another way to burn off steam and sugar-highs, though Treize finally admits to Rashid just /why/ he is quite happy being a lesser component in this endeavor and why his soon departure with Trowa isn't that sorrowful an event.
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"Chocolate chip cookies!" Duo cried with sudden glee the instant he entered the conference room.
Even as he spoke, he became a black blur straight for the cause of that cry, dragging a streak of white in his wake because Zechs didn't let go of his belt fast enough. Not that Duo even noticed. Cookies nearly reflected in his wide, eager eyes like stars mirrored in a deep blue pool. Magnets had less strength in their connection--the young pilot practically /flew/ towards the heaped dish.
//COOKIES!!!!//
Cookie Monster from Sesame Street would have met his match if he faced Duo Maxwell on a hunt for sugar. One could attribute that to his past, one in which no mother was available to bake or buy such luxuries, though when he was older, Duo could afford to purchase a box on the rare occasion. Scarcity made that homely food his greatest weakness, however--he couldn't get enough. And home-baked, which outclassed the store-bought as diamonds out-classed cut glass, was, in Duo's opinion, just one short step from pure Heaven. As the many Mastercard commercials proclaimed, some things in the world are just simply priceless--and a good, fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie with chips that melt in your hand, in Duo's opinion, was one of them.
"Baka, leave some for the rest of us, too," Heero grumbled, striding a bit more slowly in the pair's wake to rescue one by plucking it directly from Duo's eager hands. But despite his gruff tone and chiding words, the amused gleam in his eyes suggested that he really didn't mind all that much.
Cautiously, Zechs peered around Duo's body at the dessert plate to try and fathom just what the dark-clad man could be so fanatical about, not letting go of the braided pilot's belt. Too busy heaping cookies onto a paper plate, Duo didn't even notice that he had an observer until he started turning from the service table towards the conference table, almost elbowing the boy in the face as he did so.
//Yikes! Watch out, kiddo!// "Hey, didn't see you there, kiddo! What's up?" the cheerful Deathscythe pilot asked. His eyes fell to those hands still firmly glued to his belt before he added, "Don't you think you can let go? You're safe here."
The young boy blinked, then flushed warmly, scarlet touching his cheeks in embarrassment. "I'm. . . sorry," Zechs whispered shyly, slowly releasing the supple leather and wriggling his fingers free from between it and Duo's waist.
//He's much more subdued now. Has meeting his sister sent him reverting even further? I hope not.//
Glancing about, Duo hid a frown, considering the environment, looking for something to distract or cheer the blonde boy up with. Heero had claimed a seat at the far end of the conference table with his stolen half-eaten cookie steadily undergoing destructive nibbles, and pitchers of coffee and water waited near him for the other alliance members to utilize upon arrival. Otherwise, there was just Duo himself, the huge tray of cookies fit to satisfy a school of chocoholics, a couple pitchers of milk and orange juice, a selection of pop cans for any caffeine freaks among them, and a tidy stack of paper plates, napkins, and crystal clear glass cups.
//Cookies. . .//
An idea struck.
Passing his heaping plateful to a startled Zechs, Duo smirked. "Here, help me with this. Have you ever dunked a cookie before?" he tried. //I bet he hasn't. . .//
A bewildered look crossed the boy's face as the heaped plate ended up in his hands before he could protest, and as he stared at them in surprise, he shook his head slowly to emphasize, "No. . ."
Heero glanced up from across the room, frowning. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.
//Heero never dunked cookies before, either?// Then again, thinking about how well Heero was trained, and the likelihood that he almost never did anything fun as a result, it became a rather logical conclusion. Well, only if you had the leisure time to actually travel down that trail of deductions. Up until now, Duo certainly hadn't. //Well hell! Guess I have two pupils in this!//
Pouring three glasses of milk to the brim, Duo caught up a cookie to throw at Heero--who plucked it deftly from the air, of course--before picking up the drinks and carrying them in its wake. "Cookie-dunking is an old tradition, guys. /Everyone/ has to try it once in their lives! So I'm going to teach you how," the braided pilot proclaimed smugly. "You have to work at the technique, you know."
From the lost expressions on their faces, his audience did /not/ know. In fact, they were probably struggling to imagine how anything so simple could involve any kind of strategy at all!
"Dipping it in milk is not a difficult activity," Heero observed wryly, neatly-caught cookie currently undergoing intense visual assessment as if he thought Due had booby-trapped it somehow. He clearly wasn't certain what Duo was trying to accomplish here, and suspected mischief of some sort.
If only he knew. . .
Zechs set the plate of cookies down within reach of all three of them, glance traveling from one Gundam pilot to the other, then hesitantly picked up a cookie and drew a glass of milk closer to his chosen seat. "What exactly is the point behind it?" he wanted to know, curiosity edging his voice despite his silent compliance.
//Good. It's getting him back out of his shell. . . and surprisingly, Heero, too! This might be a better idea than I originally imagined. Never knew the ultimate social ice-breaker could be cookies and milk. . .//
Grinning broadly at the pair, Duo selected a cookie for himself at random and poised it over his own milk glass, shoving the last glass closer to Heero to encourage the other Gundam pilot's participation in this ritual. "It makes it /taste/ better! Why else?"
//I think they'll get a kick out of this.//
Grinning smugly, the braided Gundam pilot held up his selection deftly, and began explaining the mechanism and theory with all the cheer of a little kid--and the expert assessment of a soldier.
"To start with, you hold it like so. Milk's usually damn freezing, and I don't know about anyone else, but I don't care for frostbite--therefore, the less of you that ends up in the milk, the better. However, we want the whole cookie to absorb, so your grip must remain small, but be careful that you don't grip too close to the edge where it can crumble apart on you prematurely. Crumbs in milk aren't the same, you know! Now, absorption is proportional to the time it stays in the milk. . . Personally, I like it as soggy as possible, but too soggy and it falls apart before you can eat it, so you have to try various levels to find your own preferences. . ."
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A good two hours later, Zechs contemplated drowning cookies simply as a means of staving off boredom.
//I like them very soggy, too. . . but my fingers are too numb to continue this. They hurt from the cold!//
The sugar had already kicked in, leaving him restlessly flicking chunks of mutilated cookie across the table from one chocolate-stained hand to the other. He couldn't possibly swallow any more, the allure of chocolate not withstanding--nor take another gulp of milk.
//If I do, I'm going to throw up. I want to. . . I want to be doing /something/. I mean, we looked at the base's plans and my crude maps, but how far do they expect to detail their plans? We don't know enough! Whatever we do will have to be subject to quick changes in the last minute-- or in the field.//
For some reason, Miri found it difficult to concentrate on the discussion at hand. Perhaps because he had little to contribute, and the first thing he had been told was "You're not going!"
Well, that would curb anyone's enthusiasm for the project.
Not that he intended to obey that statement. The others planned to depart early the next morning on a pair of transport planes, two Gundams in each, and the blonde boy intended to be aboard before--and during--take off. Stowing away couldn't be that difficult. After all, he'd stolen his own plane before this.
//I'm small, I'm fast, I'm smart, and there are plenty of places to hide. . .//
"So Heero and I will hunt around in this sector, and then you, Quatre, can chop out this signal tower at the other end. . ." Duo was suggesting, prodding a mark on the map before all of them.
"If no suits remain at that point," Wufei interjected, "I will start taking out the generators. The sirens are very annoying. . ."
A faint smile touched Zechs's lips at that personal comment. Little by little, his friendship with the Gundam pilots was growing over time. //I learn something new about them every day.//
"Then might I recommend hitting this corner of the electrical compound?" Treize threw in from his seat beside Duo, tapping the point under comment with one gloved finger as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips with the other for a sip to wet his throat. "That way you take out the main line to the sirens. There are backup generators beneath the administrative building that you cannot reach, and they would still supply the vital functions of the base if you took the others out."
//At least Quatre looks as bored as I do. I don't think he has terribly much experience with input coming from all sides making all this /too/ flexible!// Miri mused, eyeing the boy across the table from him and noting the other blonde's tired expression. ///He/ probably sees that it'll depend on what we find there, even if the other's don't yet.//
Poor Quatre simply glanced at the map, at the fingers gesturing at various points on it, and finally at the broken cookie chunks representing the various Gundams they were thinking of coordinating--and sighed softly. To his right, Trowa was dozing, unconcerned and trusting the rest to hash out a decent plan without him. After all, tomorrow Trowa and Treize were going to take the majority of ex-Oz troops off to Luxemburg to collect the scientists and set up defenses at that strategic point. Romefeller would have to get through them before attacking Sanc itself.
To Trowa's right, Wufei was leaning forward, pondering Treize's suggestion intently, his gaze burning holes in the map over a frown of concentration, intrigued by the details of this plan. To /his/ right, at the head of the conference table, sat Heero, laptop plugged in but idle to his left, his sharp eyes following everyone's contributions, though he had declined to comment on these details yet.
To Quatre's left, Rashid also frowned thoughtfully at the map, probably planning the best drop-off points for the Gundams and their pilots prior to the attack, and where to pick them all up. That would vary with the attack sequences, and the results of the attack, after all--success meant anywhere would be good, but failure limited the man's options significantly. To his left sat Howard, who was idly perusing a magazine, leaving this mess entirely up to the others to plan.
Duo had a seat on Heero's right, across the table from Wufei, and was the one who had originally broken a cookie to represent their machines. Beside him, Zechs sat, bored, followed by Treize, Noin, and Sally. Treize and Noin were in their element as strategic experts, especially considering their extensive knowledge as to the standard layout of earth's military bases, and occasionally offered insight as to this attack and that. On the other hand, Sally had bigger concerns, and was studying printouts of the data they had available on the Phoenix Project, hunting for anything that could be a clue as to where the project might be currently housed on the base, and which locations might have stored data concerning the medical details they wanted. Otherwise, Duo and Heero would be running around the base rather aimlessly--a dangerous thing to do when outnumbered at about a thousand to one!
//But I really don't think it matters what order they take out the mobile suit and plane hangers in. . . They just need Wufei and Quatre to keep things busy--without shutting down the base's power-supply--or they can't check out the computers to /find/ that data. We really don't need to hash this out so much!//
Sally's voice brought Zechs out of his wandering thoughts. "Well, here's something to look for, at least," she sighed in resignation. "Look for this Biohazard sign--marking a whole sector as a danger--and then hunt around for the Phoenix Project emblem."
The ex-Alliance doctor held out two strange symbols. The first was a bright orange triad of broken circles, the universal sign for Biohazard and kindly enough having the word written in big bold letters beneath it, just in case a symbol wasn't enough. The other was a blue rendition of a silhouetted bird, rather akin to the old symbol used by Pontiac for an ancient kind of twentieth-century car called a "Firebird", gold lettering beneath it pronouncing the name of the project. Both would likely be easy enough to memorize, even for an idiot.
Heero reached out to accept her samples of both symbols as they were passed around to him, Prussian blue eyes immediately memorizing. After a minute, he passed them to Duo. "What type of data do we need?" he asked the doctor quietly.
"Documents, statistics, test analysis performed, Zechs's blood values and recordings of all drug and medication dosages during his captivity," the ex- Alliance Major offered, chewing her lip as she considered. "/Anything/ regarding techniques and chemical compounds involved. Data on preliminary tests performed on rats--if they have any, but I suspect they did at least /some/ kind of preliminary testing of the stuff they used on people. Background research resources that made them come up with the notion of making such a drug to begin with. Pretty much anything, really. What Zechs managed to scrounge before leaving is piecemeal, and I need more to go on than guesses."
Miri sighed softly, still flicking a crumb from one hand to the other. //I imagine a lot of the important stuff was encoded and locked behind numerous passwords that terminal I used couldn't access.//
"So. . . we raid the infirmary, then the brig sectors--" Duo revised.
"Too far apart," Heero corrected firmly, pointing at how those were in separate buildings. "You take engineering, then the prison sectors in order of proximity. I'll check the infirmary, then the administrative section, then see if they are using some of the unused living quarters. We need to work fast."
"Engineering? They don't play with people, Heero!"
"But they do a lot of research, and they might keep all the base's projects' data together. Besides, they're in the same building as the brig- -if they use the one, they likely stayed in the same building."
"Hell. Sally, are you sure you can't make it easier to pinpoint where they keep all this info? We'll be hunting around the bloody place all day!"
//This will take another hour,// Miri sighed softly to himself.
Tuning out again, Zechs pondered who he could flick cookie chunks at without getting shot at. Not Trowa--a sudden wake-up call might get a violent reaction, considering he /was/ a well-trained Gundam pilot and an ex-mercenary to boot. Rashid didn't have much of a sense of humor for Zechs to rely on. Wufei, undoubtedly, wouldn't consider physical bombardment amusing. And Howard--he had no idea, as he barely knew the man beyond his name. . .
//Quatre looks like he could use such a diversion, though,// he decided mischievously. So, taking careful aim, he let fly.
Flick!
The blonde Gundam pilot started as a small chunk of cookie stung his hand, and immediately looked up--to catch Zechs's inviting, playful smirk. A slow smile touched Quatre's lips in echo, those tired blue eyes lighting up with playful glee. A hand immediately grabbed a couple cookies from the plateful by the map everyone else was intent on, and began breaking them up into smaller ammunition.
Smile broadening slightly, Zechs held back a grin as he also collected more cookie "ammo", and he eyed the other blonde through a fringe of near-white bangs.
Quatre eyed him back with sly intent, poised and waiting for Zechs to be ready. . .
//Here we go!//
As if cued to both start at the same moment, the bombardments across the table began at the drop of an invisible flag.
Flick! Flick! Flick-flick-flick-flick-flick!!!
Cookie chunks shot back and forth across the table, a couple jumping the map as the rest plowed into the "gundams", one stinging Duo's hand before he could pull it out of the range of fire, another ricocheting off Rashid's coffee mug to land on top of Sally's papers, one bouncing off Zechs's milk to hit Wufei's water-glass and fly back across the table to land in Noin's soda with a clink, another cracking off Quatre's mug to end up in Treize's coffee with a splash that stained the man's white glove.
"Hey!" An astonished--and stung--Duo, shaking his hand.
"Nani!?" A wide-eyed Heero staring at dismay at the map--whose "Gundams" had suddenly relocated, fragmented, and multiplied.
"Zechs. . . !" Treize, suddenly in a paternal mood--the admonishing, disciplining kind.
The crossfire halted in an instant, as two pairs of sheepish blue eyes surrounded by blonde-white bangs shifted from each other to Treize.
"My drink!" An unhappy Noin, staring at her pop can in disbelief, trying to guess the odds of what had just happened and finding them too strongly against the reality of what just occurred for her to believe her eyes.
Sally merely blinked at the mess on her papers.
Rashid, on the other hand, retreated in his seat as if interested in trying to hide behind the limited protection of his coffee mug.
Arching an eyebrow slowly, Wufei looked from one blonde culprit to the other--then at his glass of water--as if thinking up some form of revenge.
"Hmm?" Howard looked up over the edge of his sunglasses--and smiled knowingly.
//But Treize. . .// Zechs sighed, giving his oldest friend a "puppy-dog" look, pleading in silence. //I'm BORED!!!//
At that moment, Quatre gave a quiet giggle, and flicked one at /Treize/.
It ricocheted off the man's unstained hand and struck Trowa in the chest with almost bruising force, making the ex-Oz General swear in pain, and snapping the tall Gundam pilot awake in an instant.
Trowa's eyes fixed the opposite side of the table with an icy, disapproving glare of death that did Heero proud.
//Uh-oh.// Miri cringed in his seat. This didn't look good! "It was /him/," he protested weakly, pointing at Quatre across the table.
The cold glare turned to the other blonde, unwavering and accusing.
Sandrock's pilot flushed hotly enough to rival the desert sun, and smiled feebly, spreading his hands in a slight, apologetic shrug.
//Quatre's SO dead. . .// Guilt made Zechs pale a bit, ashamed and worried for his new friend. //It's all my fault--I started it.// But a glance revealed Treize still shaking his injured hand and glaring at both blondes in a manner that made him certain that Miri wouldn't escape this unscathed, either. The boy gulped. ///I'm/ dead, too!//
A spark touched Trowa's eyes, and they narrowed. Heavyarms's pilot reached to claim a couple cookie bits that remained of Quatre's ammunition, as if to take them out of the hands of a child, and confiscate them safely. . . then a slow, wicked smirk touched his lips.
"This means WAR!!!"
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All hell broke loose!
As if Trowa's words were a cue for the melee to begin, a mass scramble began for the remaining cookies. Whole cookies took flight this time, and they were thrown, not flicked. Wufei didn't bother joining the competition for them, however, and flung his water at Duo instead, making the braided pilot yell in dismay as his shirt was drenched down the front. Heero also avoided the fray, and grabbed the maps and vital documents Sally had passed to him earlier--barely rescuing them from the water from Wufei's mug--and along with his laptop, dove under the table for protection. Howard lifted his magazine and used it as a protective screen to hide behind, scrambling backward from the battle to escape. Sally just grabbed her things and /fled/.
//IEEEE!!! I need ammo! I need /protection/! I'm getting pelted and it /stings/!!!// Despite that, Miri laughed happily at the ensuing battle. Hey, at least it was certainly not boring anymore!
Zechs tried to shield himself with his arms, blindly throwing whatever came to hand as he struggled to retreat to the refreshment table. Meanwhile, Quatre was laughing as he and Trowa pelted each other with broken cookies, and poor Rashid, taking the brunt of /Zechs's/ attack in an effort to protect Quatre, could only bellow protests that nobody seemed willing to heed. Treize, following Wufei's example, flung his coffee at Nataku's pilot, who hollered in surprise. Noin, in turn, with a wicked grin, dumped her remaining soda on Treize's head, drawing a shriek of horror from her former superior. Duo lobbed a few cookies at Noin in passing, however, as he streaked past.
A gleeful Miri managed to escape to the refreshment table by the point that the table's activities became a true free-for-all, luckily. After all, it still had the last of the cookies, and all the remaining drinks! //Bingo! The ammunitions depot!//
Straightening behind the table, the boy reached for the plateful of cookies- -
--only to find Duo there, waiting for him with a double handful of crumbled cookies in hand!
Before Zechs could utter a shriek, he was under heavy attack. "Gotcha!" Duo laughed, pelting away like a horizontal rainstorm of baked goods.
//I won't go down /that/ easily!// Determinedly, Miri blindly grabbed the nearest thing, trying to deflect the worst of Duo's barrage from his face with his other hand--and closed his fingers on a pop can. //YES!!!//
Giving it a violent shake, Zechs grinned, whirled back to face Duo--and popped the top.
FIZZZZZZ!!!!
Soda spurted all over the braided man!
"Who's laughing now, braid-boy?" the blonde countered joyfully as Duo yelled and retreated, trying to protect his hair from getting soaked.
"I am," returned a cool voice behind Zechs.
//Heero?!?// Miri whipped about in alarm, but it was too late.
A whole pitcher of milk emptied itself over the white-blonde boy's head, drenching him from head to toe! And all he could do was laugh and splutter as it soaked him to the skin, accepting his fate with cheerful resignation. Looking up between white-dripping bangs, Zechs couldn't help a smile, especially at the sight of Heero's expression of quiet amusement and the empty pitcher still in Wing's pilot's hands. Prussian blue eyes were watching the chaos with a kind of strange fondness. . . like an older brother, in a way. Despite the fact that some of the members of the mayhem were well past his age. Or maybe /because/ of that age gap. . .
"Pick on someone your own size, Heero!"
That was all the warning Heero or Zechs had before Duo retaliated, grabbing a pitcher of orange-juice--and flinging the contents at them both!
Zechs yelped as a small portion got his arm--in one of the few remaining areas he wasn't /completely/ soaked by milk. Heero, on the other hand, gasped as the rest struck him as a wave full in the chest, the shock staggering him back.
Hands on hips, looking smug, Duo grinned back at the pair.
Short blonde boy and disgruntled-looking, serious brunette boy exchanged looks--and evil, conniving smiles.
//I'm with you on this, Heero!//
Duo took to his heels, laughing so hard he could barely keep his footing, as Miri and Heero each grabbed a couple pop cans and took off in pursuit.
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"You're /dead/, Maxwell!"
"What was that about /size/ again, Duo?!?"
"You guys have to catch me, first!"
"How do /you/ like your coffee, Noin?"
"EEEEK! I'll get you for that, Treize!"
"Ha! Weak--Itai!"
"Ha-ha! Got you, Wufei!"
"Barton--you're NEXT!!!"
"IEEE! /Master Quatre!!!/"
"There /are/ no allies in food-fights, Rashid!"
"GOD! Quatre, you're /vicious/! Watch where you throw those things!"
"Sorry, Duo!"
"Take /that/, Quatre!"
"IEEEE!!! Zechs, I thought you were after /Duo/!"
"Heero, what are you--!?!"
"There are NO sides in a food fight!"
A chorus of protests arose in harmony as suddenly /everyone/ was sprayed with soda by the Gundam pilot standing in the center of the conference table. "HEEEEEERRRRROOOO!!!!!!"
Thoroughly drenched now, that effectively brought the whole fray to a dripping, laughing halt finally.
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A couple hours later, Treize strode through the underground hangar complex with a rolling carry-on suitcase in tow, hair still a bit damp from a long luxurious soak.
//Nothing else gets soda pop out from your hair. . . And I thought Zechs was the regressed one. All I can say is, thank God Heero wasn't the lost Prince of Sank! He'd have been a disaster!//
Distantly, the ex-Oz general could hear the faint hum and clatter of Rashid's men and Howard's team working away at upgrading and improving the Gundams, probably some last-minute touches for Heavyarms before they load it up for travel. Tallgeese itself was currently mostly pieces, as it had the most need for upgrading and revision--mainly in an effort to keep it from killing Miri if he used it before a cure could be found.
//Rashid and Howard don't seem to be very hopeful about that. . . I'm not sure, myself. I want to hope, but--I'm worried. Zechs. . . he seems to have adapted a bit to the changes, but part of that could be through telling himself that it's only temporary, that he can endure it for a little while.// Shaking his head sadly, the dignified man sighed softly to himself. //I'm not sure the others see it. . . but he's still regressing, only the changes are more subtle now. He was very quiet and shy as a kid, even before Sank fell, I remember. Not that he was terribly social as an adult, but that was more--avoidance, caution. I wonder just how far he may regress, in the end. Completely? Will the man known as Zechs Marquise vanish?//
"Master Treize," Rashid greeted, turning to face him as the general entered the main hangar bay.
Smiling slowly, Treize nodded politely back. "Rashid. You had the energy to return to this after all that? I'm surprised everyone hasn't called it a day after that fracas!" //Mainly because they /had/ to scrub multiple times to finally get clean again. I know I certainly did!//
The taller man snorted, frowning slightly. "We wish," he rumbled wryly.
Arching a pronged brow, Treize couldn't help a slow smile. //Let me guess. . . Zechs, and a sugar-high, and extreme sports?// "Oh? Are the Gundam pilots helping you out?" he inquired. "Babysitting, perhaps? I'm surprised you managed to get him in here at all, though--considering Zechs's ties to this place."
"So long as you hold his attention on other things--something Duo appears to be very good at--he seems to endure staying here pretty well, actually. As for babysitting, however, well. . . Not. . . /quite/," Rashid returned, turning to lead the way through the various connected hangars towards the transporter plane where Treize could stow his luggage. "I'm not sure I would call it babysitting. . ."
"Gangway!!!" something yelled, before a streak of brown and blonde flew past, vanishing into the hangar's shadows before they could even finish crossing it.
//What the. . . ?!?// "Was that--?!?" Treize began, staring the way that streak had gone, amazed.
"Trowa, yes, and Master Quatre," the taller man confirmed, not breaking stride as they began to enter the next hangar.
"Rollerblading. . ."
"Trowa is teaching Master Quatre how to balance."
"What lead to that?"
Rashid merely glanced over his shoulder at Treize, arching a bushy eyebrow in a wry expression.
//You don't mean--!// The general froze, horrified. "WHAT? /All/ of them?!?" he exclaimed.
Pausing to turn, Rashid folded his arms across his chest--and nodded firmly. "Yes."
Sighing quietly in sympathy, the ex-Oz general ran a hand through the fading fuchsia of his hair. //You have my pity, for what it's worth, Rashid.// "Well," he offered weakly, "I suppose they have to do something to burn off all the sugar they consumed over the meeting. . ."
"YIPE!" A shorter blonde blur whizzed almost into them, but an arm leapt out to catch at Treize's jacket and use him as a stable object as momentum whipped that small form around the former leader of Oz in a 360-degree turn.
Treize looked up slowly where that blur had come from, only to see two more, larger, shadows barreling down at him. He could feel the blood drain from his face as Rashid casually but quickly--as only a man grown used to such chaos could--dodged to the right, out of their path.
//What the--!//
"There you are!" Duo bellowed triumphantly, set on his target and for all appearances, completely unaware of the other men in his path.
Heero, following ten feet behind Duo, merely grinned in a feral manner most unlike his usual emotionless self. Clearly he knew what was going on--and what was about to occur.
That was enough to make Treize suddenly wish he had already left.
Warned of danger by that yell announcing his pursuit, however, Zechs simply dodged under and between Treize's much taller legs, and let momentum shoot him over to Rashid, where he cut speed by performing figure eights about the man's feet.
Too late for others, however.
//Oh shi--!//
Treize went down in a flurry of metal-wrapped boots, bags, and flying copper-colored braid, as Duo crashed into him and sent them both flying a good ten feet. It felt rather like Treize's early days in school, when he had become a member of the rugby team--before he wisely shifted to /coaching/ it instead. He hadn't been tackled so well in decades. He had made it a point to /avoid/ such thing for decades!
//Owwwwww. . . Sweet Jesus, if he fights like he plays, no wonder the Gundams always win!//
Chuckling quietly, Heero whizzed safely past the tangled pair, and whirled in tight circles like an ice-skating champion as he watched the mess of limbs and clothes and bags attempt to resolve back into two separate entities again. "Baka. Kushrenada isn't playing!" he mock-scolded.
"Are you alright, Duo, Treize?" Miri called from the safety of behind Rashid, peering at the entangled pair with concern, blue eyes wide.
Moaning, Treize shoved the tail of Duo's braid off his nose, tried shoving his bag off Duo's legs, and helped the younger man get the front of a makeshift rollerblade out of his coat pocket. //I'm going to feel this tomorrow, I'm sure of it!//
"Sorry, man--aiming for the kid, you know. His turn to be 'It'!" Deathscythe's pilot explained cheerfully, carefully untangling legs and hair and limbs with expert ease. "This your suitcase? Sharp! Didn't know they made 'em in leather."
The ex-Oz general fought the urge to sigh as he returned to his feet and began brushing his clothes straight again. //This is going to feel like a vacation,// Treize promised himself silently, even as he made himself smile at the younger men in reassurance he wasn't sure of yet. //I think I wrenched a few things in that landing. At least it'll be quiet there in Luxembourg.//
"I'm all right, Mr. Maxwell. Are you?" he asked, setting his suitcase back on its wheels and glancing over it, making sure it wasn't too bent up to roll anymore. He had no intention of carrying the thing, if it died. //That's not /my/ job. I'm a sophisticated man, for heaven's sake! At least it looks like it will hold up for the duration of this trip.//
Brushing bangs out of his way, Duo gave him a thumb's-up and broad grin. "Good as new. Have a great trip, Treize!"
With that, he launched at Zechs and Rashid like a rocket off a launch pad, scaring the laughing seven-year-old into fleeing again, and with Heero on their heels, all three whirred off into the darkness again.
Only a chorus of laughter, squeaks, squeals, growls, and cheerful bellows echoed back to the two older men.
//They seem to have all regressed,// Treize mused, as he and Rashid finally wandered into the main hanger where his plane waited, his mobile suit already loaded up. //But then, did any of them have childhoods before this? I suspect not. So perhaps this is a good thing.//
Passing a mammoth pile of mobile suit parts that appeared to have started taking over half a hangar, he smiled over at Rashid. "Well, I imagine they deserve the chance to act their ages like this, considering everything else they have gone through and had to perform to reach this point," he offered gamely.
The Arabian man merely turned to blink at him.
//All right, so it's a good thing so long as /I/ can escape it.// Treize's smile turned sheepish. //I'm not a kid anymore. I can't keep up with Zechs on a sugar-high at this age.//
Rashid lifted a hand as well as his eyebrow this time, and pointed a finger directly above them.
Skates whirred louder, coming closer. . .
//Not again!//
The sophisticated General glanced up with trepidation.
A small figure shot off the top of the pile like a missile right over their heads, its arms spread like wings in flight, soaring to a far distant landing that he accepted with a breathless but triumphant gasp before momentum carried him off amid a whir of gundanium wheels.
Before Treize could even think of a comment, however, another shadow with a rope-like tail in its wake whooped loudly as it launched off the streamlined pile of metal right over their heads. This one spread his feet and slapped his makeshift skates at the height of his trajectory before making a perfect landing at a somewhat shorter distance and zipping off in hot pursuit.
Another figure followed closely but silently, doing a forward flip and the splits before making a neat and barely audible landing of his own, to vanish like a ghost. . .
A fourth squeaked as it became airborne, struggled to remain upright during its brief flight, and touched down in a shaky but decent manner, having shot a much shorter distance than the rest. He hollered to them to wait up as he struggled to regain speed and follow the others.
Treize breathed a sigh of relief. "At least Trowa's not so much into this crazy kind of sport," he sighed happily.
Skates whirred close again.
//Spoke to damn soon.//
Treize and Rashid watched, flabbergasted, as another shadowy form shot overhead, doing a multitude of expert flips, twirls, and tumbles, before making a perfect landing--/backwards/--a good distance away, not losing an ounce of momentum.
Defeated, the ex-Oz general sighed glumly.
Then a last shadow shot overhead with a sharp yell--
"ITAI!!! Are you are all /suicidal/?!?"
--as Wufei made an awkward landing and struggled to catch up with the others.
//Wufei?!?// Treize's jaw dropped as he watched and listened to that last figure grumble in his efforts to pursue the rest of the players. //You know. . . Maybe it's time I got myself a set of skates, then. . .//
----------------------------------------------------------------------- To be continued. Dunno when, but hopefully soon.