Heero found himself cornered in his room, of all places, facing three wildly grinning Maxwells, each hiding something behind his back. His gaze shifted rapidly between the three, looking for some weakness, anything to save himself. Had it just been a single braided lunatic, he wouldn't have been worried. Two, he was reasonably sure he could handle. But three was one too many. Little did he know that with these three, any one of them could have pinned him single-handedly. Handcuffed and blindfolded.
Two of the approaching trio looked absolutely identical, and he was shocked to see that when they were side by side, he could actually see some variations in the way they held themselves. He was even more shocked when he noticed that two of them were blatant bodybuilders. The third was reasonably built, but nothing compared to the other two. Heero charged him, thinking that was where his best chances laid.
Dante saw Heero's logic long before the Japanese boy had implemented it and casually dropped to the floor as Heero neared him, kicking out the attacking pilot's legs. Not bothered by the swinging fists or flying kicks from where the panicking, spandex-clad boy was fighting desperately on the floor, David and Daniel closed in, bringing out the weapons they had hidden behind their backs. Several rolls of duct tape. Prussian blue eyes widened to their fullest extent as ripping noises filled the air.
* * *
Wufei realized he was being herded a moment too late, when he found himself cornered in his room, alone against two Maxwells. Both were looking at him hungrily. He glanced at the window and tried to gage his chances of surviving a five-story plunge without injury. He was still debating when he heard the door shut and the lock click. Decision made, he bolted for the window. A lean figure in black was already leaning against it, grinning.
Cursing loudly in Chinese, he backpedaled and looked for another escape route. Finding none, he dropped into a fighting stance, praying that he could hold his own. Though confident of his fighting abilities, he was painfully aware of the fact that the Maxwells were horrendously fast. He'd seen them move before on missions and while running from him and knew what they were capable of. He coiled, waiting for them to come closer before striking.
The two Maxwell brothers studied his stance, glanced at each other and shrugged slightly. One stood perfectly still while the other moved away to circle him at a safe distance. Growling, Wufei tried to turn where he could watch both of them at once, wondering which one of them was going to attack him first. He spun to face the sudden movement in his peripheral vision.
Derrick charged forward a single step before leaping back out of Wufei's reach. When the Chinese pilot predictably turned to face him, Darren calmly leaned over, grabbed the edge of the rug in both hands and yanked upwards with all of his strength. Unprepared for his footing to suddenly disappear, Wufei found himself on his face with two sets of hands holding him down before he had a chance to regain his feet. A damp cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth. Wufei tried to hold his breath, but after several minutes, his oxygen-starved lungs defied him. Blackness surrounded him. His last thought was that the Maxwells were going to pay.
* * *
Trowa had seen Heero and Wufei being chased towards their rooms and as a result he avidly refused to go in any direction that the Maxwells tried to force him into. The three chasing him were horrendously fast and he had a feeling that they were only toying with him, that they were much faster. Knowing he was doomed, he valiantly tried to defy them, even if would only buy himself a few more minutes of safety. Inevitably, he found himself being pushed back into the recesses of the house and he swore.
A flash of blond was visible just before disappearing into a room, followed by two long chestnut braids. Seeing Quatre, he decided that they might survive if they managed to group and ran straight at Deut. Her grin faltered when, instead of attacking her, he leapt over her outstretched hands and ran down the hall after the little blond, three cackling shadows on his heels. Before he was even aware of any movement behind him, one of his pursuers had cut him off, forcing him into the room with Quatre and the other two braided madmen. Seeing Quatre already pinned to the floor by one of the smirking menaces, Trowa realized that he was now facing four instead of three and he knew that it had been planned.
Donovan watched Trowa's disbelieving face for several seconds as the silent pilot fought with himself. Finally, he decided that he couldn't win and allowed Demitri to push him to the ground while Duo, Dustin and Deut watched from the door, amused. He remained limp and docile while they tied him up.
"You know," Donovan remarked easily, leaning forward to flick Quatre's ears while the blond squirmed and glared at him. "Even Q-man put up a fight. You kind of disappointed me."
Trowa shrugged the best he could with his arms tied behind him, staring at Donovan from beneath his dripping bangs. Fighting had gotten the others thrown in the pond as surely as it had him, but unlike them he had no bruises to show for it. Demitri looked at him quizzically.
"I think he's saving his strength," Demitri offered. "Perhaps he thinks he'll be able to escape or fight back later."
"That or he's too much of a coward to take his lumps and go down fighting like a man," Duo retorted. Trowa glared at him.
"What should we do with them?" Deut asked. "We never really decided."
"Carnal acts of bestiality?" Dustin suggested. At this, Quatre turned a nice tomato red and tried to hide his face in the carpet. Trowa's visible eye widened.
"Who do you think you are? Darren?" Duo scoffed. "How about we tar and feather them?"
"No tar, no feathers," Donovan said reasonably.
"Molasses and chocolate sprinkles?" Deut asked, grinning. "Almost as hard to get out."
"And you wouldn't know that if you hadn't done it to me last month!" Dustin yelled indignantly.
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," Duo chuckled.
"How could you forget? You helped her do it!"
Emerald eyes met aquamarine in complete understanding. Both of the bound pilots knew for sure now. They were doomed.
"Sorry for interrupting," Donovan said, glaring up at the others from his perch on Quatre's shoulders. "But in case you've forgotten, we do have captives to deal with."
"Very true," Duo said immediately, pleased to change the subject before Dustin started plotting revenge, again. He had already glued both of his attackers to their respective beds, but that hadn't seemed to satisfy him.
"I have an idea," Deut seconded, just as eager to distract Dustin. "Strip them down to their boxers, tie them up back to back and put them in the bathtub." Trowa banged his head against the floor, wishing he had fought back earlier. Quatre just whimpered miserably. "Duo, come with me. I need some help."
The remaining occupants in the room watched them sprint away curiously, wondering what they had in mind. Knowing Deut, it was going to make a wretched mess that would take hours, if not days, to clean. Sure enough, the two missing Maxwells returned within a few minutes, carrying half a kitchen's worth of food and looking very pleased with themselves. In their short absence, the captive pilots had lost their clothes and had been tied firmly back to back with their arms between them. Donovan and Dustin were in the process of dragging them to Quatre's master bathroom and lifting them into the tub. Demitri was trying to help, but he was laughing too hard to be useful.
"So," Donovan called over his shoulder as he fought to get the kicking, thrashing pilots into the large porcelain tub. "What are you… oh my God." He had seen what they were carrying.
Every item from the kitchen that was sticky, slimy, smelly, or otherwise gross beyond belief was in their possession. Quatre, staring at the various containers and jars of every size and color as they were spread out, couldn't hold back a whimper. Trowa looked physically ill.
Quatre almost blurted out that they wouldn't dare, before catching himself. That would only egg them on. No telling what the five grinning lunatics would do if they were riled up. They didn't even have cause at the moment and the two innocent pilots were still about to end up the world's scariest concoction of… he didn't even want to think about what all they had. Instead, he kept his voice calm and neutral as he asked two simple questions.
"Is there any way I can talk you out of this?"
"Nope," Dustin replied, studying what his siblings had brought in.
"What if I bribe you?"
"Then we'll throw Dustin in with you," Donovan offered sincerely. Dustin flung a handful of flour at him.
"Do it and die, geek," Dustin snarled.
Quatre sighed and decided to accept the inevitable. He had tried. And failed. Any further prying would only excite the chattering forms standing over them. Behind him, he felt Trowa slump against him, defeated.
"May I begin?" Deut asked her brothers. Nodding happily, they handed her a large can with two holes poked on one end, directly across from each other. Quatre recognized the enormous can and wished he could somehow disappear. Molasses.
A thick stream ran across Quatre's immaculate blond hair, plastering it to his head. The excess ran down his neck and chest. Deut continued until he was a sticky mess, then moved to do the same to Trowa with the remainder of the can. Quatre felt the taller boy squirming slightly in disgust. Once she was out of goop, she moved back.
Duo ran forward next, looking like a little kid on Christmas morning. In one hand, he held a large can of whipped cream. He moved over to Trowa, well out of blonde's line of vision. When the tall brunette gasped and began fighting again in earnest, Quatre grew worried. He became even more worried when he felt the back of Trowa's neck grow very warm in a deep blush. He looked up warily to the four watching figures, who were all trying very hard not to laugh. One of them held a second can of whipped cream in his hand.
Tossing aside the used can, Duo held up his now empty hand. Immediately, the second can was lobbed at him. He caught it without looking and smirked evilly at Quatre, who was now as white as Trowa was red. He didn't even have time to ask what the madman was planning before Duo yanked forward the front of his boxers and filled them to the elastic band with whipped cream. Quatre's face turned scarlet.
"What was the point of leaving our boxers on if you planned to do that?" he yelped indignantly, turning redder by the second. He was a deep maroon before he got an answer from the hysterical braided idiots.
"Because Deut's in here," Demitri answered, wiping tears from his eyes.
Quatre ground his teeth and held very still when Duo moved back, giving Demitri access with his two bottles. In one hand, he held a large bottle of olive oil. In the other, he held a container of dark chocolate syrup. He poured half of each of the bottles on the two bound pilots before moving back, inspecting his work with malicious glee. After a moment of consideration, he moved back in and broke three eggs on each of their heads, working the slimy mess deeply into their already toxic hair.
Knowing that they were already as nasty as they could get, neither of the gooey pilots bothered to move or offer any facial expression when Dustin covered them with containers of garlic powder, sage, black pepper and powdered chicken bullion. He continued with paprika, oregano, thyme, parsley and powdered onions, making the two filthy hostages smell like a recipe gone horribly wrong.
Some water ran in the nearby sink, followed by the sounds of frantic stirring. Despite himself, Quatre turned fearfully to see what the last Maxwell was doing. With an enormous bowl in his hands, he was mixing something with malicious glee, occasionally adding a little more water. Quatre nearly cried when he realized what it was. One mixing bowl, some water and a ten-pound bag of flour later, the braided maniac had created a mass of what would turn into thick glue when it dried. He cringed when it was dribbled over him carefully. Trowa didn't bother to flinch. He was too mad to see straight, let alone squirm.
When he was done, he moved out of the way so Deut could administer the finishing touches, upturning a container of cupcake sprinkles on each of their heads. The little bits of sugar immediately fused to their hair with the help of the drying egg. As a final insult, each of the five pilots ran forward with a roll of toilet paper and proceeded to mummify them. Finally finished, they all ran howling from the room.
"Trowa?"
"Yes, Quatre?"
"Remind me to kill G when we get loose."
"Wait in line," Trowa responded grimly.
* * *
Heero hung, upside down, from the ceiling, mummified in duct tape from his toes to his neck. The ends of the tape disappeared into one of the wall vents and wrapped around one of the beams in the ceiling. While it was comforting to know that he wasn't going to fall flat on his face, it made escaping very difficult. He had already tried to break the tape by thrashing, but that had only worn him out. The three braided ogres had used five large rolls of tape. Each.
Defeated, he hung motionless, occasionally making some sort of muffled noise in hopes that he would be heard. The lower half of his face had been covered completely by the thick gray tape, destroying any hopes he had of calling for help. Granted, he knew that the other pilots were busy at the moment protecting their own hides, but he would have liked to have the option.
He grunted and jerked again, feeling the tape shift above him. Looking up, he saw a small rip in the thick lines securing him to the ceiling. The blood rushing to his head was making him dizzy and slightly reckless. Even knowing he was going to fall on his face, he began bucking in earnest. With a loud hiss that sounded much like ripping cloth, he plummeted to the floor, nearly knocking himself out.
Once on the floor, after waiting for the stars to fade from his vision, Heero discovered he had another problem. He couldn't open the door to get out of his room. More than slightly hindered by the thick layers of gray surrounding him, Heero managed to inch towards the door, flopping heavily onto his back once he thought he was close enough. He pulled his knees as far towards his chest as he could, rocked back a little, then undulated with all the force he could muster, slamming his feet into the door. The wood shattered around the hinges as the door was forced out of the frame. Quatre would just have to cope.
Squirming, and looking utterly ridiculous, Heero managed to get back onto his stomach in a position where he could wriggle his way down the hall. Mimicking the movements of the almighty inchworm, Heero made his way down the lengthy corridor. Occasionally, he would roll into an open room if he thought he heard footsteps approaching. Several times, he just barely managed to get out of sight before one of the Maxwells loped by, looking far to pleased with their successful attack. Deut passed him at least three times. Once, she even walked into the room where he was hiding, ruffled his hair and wished him luck getting free. Heero glared at her.
Sighing around the tape, Heero doggedly made his way towards where he believed Quatre and Trowa were being held. Trowa's room had been empty, so he proceeded to look for the blond. He didn't dare look for Wufei. Whatever they were doing to the Chinese pilot, they would be at it for a long time. He didn't even want to know what they were doing to the raven-haired boy, especially since one of the Maxwells had been carrying something that looked suspiciously like lingerie.
Panting heavily, he slithered into Quatre's room, relieved when he heard the sound of running water from the large adjoining bathroom. Deciding it was faster to get the blond to come out than it was for him to go in after the small Arabian, Heero grunted loudly. He was met with silence. Several moments passed before a wary aquamarine eye peeked into the room to see the cause of the noise. The two pilots stared at each other in mild shock.
"Well," Quatre said, shaking his head wearily and coming out to help. "I was wondering what they had done to you."
When the blond got closer, Heero's eyes went wide. Despite the fact that he had obviously come directly from a bath, the Arabian was covered in various types of ludicrously messy foodstuffs. Quatre saw his look and shrugged.
"One sided food fight," he offered. "Trowa's still in the shower. I was trying to get all of this off in the tub, but it's not working too well."
With a quick snap of his wrist, Quatre pulled the tape off of Heero's face. The Japanese pilot hissed and winced, wondering how much skin he had just lost. After opening and closing his jaw a few times, he decided it was still in working order. He looked up at the still filthy blond with an expression bordering between curiosity, morbid amusement and sympathy.
"What did they dump on you two?" he asked.
Quatre rattled off a list. After staring open-mouthed for a few seconds, Heero snorted to cover up a snicker. He wanted to get out of his gray prison and that wouldn't happen if he irritated Quatre too much. The seemingly innocent blond would leave him there to the mercy of the Maxwells if he was pushed too far. However, Quatre seemed to recognize the snort for what it was and frowned slightly.
"I wouldn't be to happy if I were you," he said succinctly. "When this is off, you won't have a single hair on your body."
Heero held still while the smaller pilot tugged at part of the cocoon of tape. After a moment, Quatre pulled back and frowned.
"What?"
"How much tape did they use?" Quatre asked, looking frankly disbelieving.
"About fifteen rolls."
Quatre made a soft choking noise. Heero didn't bother to glare at him for laughing. For now, he only needed to be loosed from his bindings. He could get even with the blond later. At that thought, he winced. He was beginning to think like the spastic braided idiots. Instead, he tried not to move a single muscle as Quatre proceeded to cut the tape off of him with a large pocketknife.
Grunting, Heero tried to stand up and failed miserably. The tape had been a little too tight, probably due to his squirming during the wrapping process, and his blood-starved muscles, after receiving the order to move, had told him where to stick it.
When the perfect soldier flopped on the floor with all of the grace of a beached whale, Quatre had the decency to look worried. He began pulling off the pieces of shredded tape, eyes going wide when he saw the bluish tint to Heero's skin.
"How long have you been wrapped up?"
"Since a few minutes after they started chasing us," Heero answered stiffly. That had been a little over an hour ago. He tried to get up again and immediately toppled. Swearing under his breath, he decided to allow Quatre to finish taking the tape off of him while he rested.
"Do you know what happened to Wufei?" Quatre asked suddenly, pulling off a longish strip on Heero's arm. Heero winced when most of his arm hair went with it.
"Last I saw, the Maxwells were converging in his room with lingerie," he grunted. Quatre paused in shock before continuing.
"That would explain the digital camera that one of them had."
"Digital camera?" Heero asked, arching one eyebrow slightly.
"Yes. And after what you just told me, I'm beginning to think that we got off a lot easier than Wufei did."
To Be Continued…
Finally! I got another little part of this done. To be honest, this story was started as a joke. I never meant to continue it originally, but decided to keep on going when I got so many reviews. I'll keep going if all of you make me happy. R&R!
Oh… BTW, I have 500-1000 pages of stuff to read and memorize every night for class, so I'm going to be a bit slow on posting. Gomen!
