I know it took a while, but here's the second chapter…please R&R!

CHAPTER 2

The room seemed to open up around him, and he froze for a second as he took in his cavernous surroundings. It was dimly lit, with only a few desk lamps and the torches of the group of people ahead to illuminate the gloom. The ceiling was hidden from view, and Quatre felt oppressed by the overpowering darkness around him. He mentally slapped himself, and shook back into concentration. He examined the cold, marble-tiled floor for any scrapes or smears leading into the lift, which was being sucked slowly upwards – perhaps the killer used it? But he found none, and his eyes swept the room for possible escape routes for the killer. He lost himself again in his imagination, dreaming up all the possible ways for a man to leave the room without a trace, his eyes glazed over and staring up into the blackened sky of the room. Then:

"Excuse me."

Quatre whipped round, shaking, his hands reaching into his shirt.

"Easy, easy!"

The man in front of him tensed , his hair waving backwards and forwards in front of his face, giving Quatre only glimpses of the face it concealed.

"This area is sealed off. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." came the clipped tones of the man. His shirt was buttoned tightly to his neck, and his trousers ran down his legs like drain pipes, stopping before the black, polished shoes on his feet.

"Oh, no! I'm the colony liaison. I'm supposed to be meeting with a Lt. Barton…Could you tell me where he is? If it's not too much trouble, that is."

The man in front of him visibly sighed, his head drooping. "You're the liaison? I was hoping for someone with a bit more…experience".

Quatre blushed in the darkness. "I know I'm young but I was top in my class for Colony Law and I hope I can be of use to you, please, sir."

"God. Drop the formalities, or this'll never work." muttered the man.

"Excuse me?" ventured Quatre.

"Lt. Barton, your partner for this evening and also your mentor. You have a name?"

"Quatre Winner, Ensign. Second Level. I hope you find me useful, sir" said Quatre, letting a bold tone slip into his voice as he stiffened his posture.

"Quatre. That name, it's…" Quatre braced himself.

"Feminine, isn't it? I suppose you must be popular with colony girls, they like that kind of thing. And you're wearing pink." Lt. Barton chuckled.

Quatre gritted his teeth. "Shall we continue?"

"Careful, I'm in charge here." Quatre suppressed the anger that rose in him and forced obedience into himself.

"Now, Quatre" said the lieutenant, a commanding tone replacing the biting tone of before, "The Chief says you're in need of some…experience. So you're doing the talking. I will merely stand beside you. When we are around the colony lawyers, we must give the impression that you are the officer in command. Don't forget that you aren't, though." He glanced back to the crowd in the centre of the room.

"If I see you getting…in a bit of a tricky situation, let's say, I will say 'Ah, this is my area of expertise.' And then I will take over, and you will be under my control in their eyes. We do not want this."

"Why?" inquired Quatre, his eyes trying to focus on those of his superiors.

"Let's just say that I'm not the man they're looking for right now."

"Aww, what is this? What the fuck do you think you are DOING?"

The shout echoed and bounced around the room, whipping the people within it and the objects within it into sharp focus in Quatre's eyes.

"Quick, follow me." Barton gripped tightly onto Quatre's wrist and pulled him forcefully into the direction of the crowd, like a father with a child, forcing him to quickly organize his thoughts once more. Barton was not how he imagined… He winced at the tight grip around his wrist, and yet felt something pleasant and calming rush through him, infiltrating to the very tips of his fingers and toes. They soon reached the crowd, and Barton pushed him in front, grabbing his waist and forcing him into a confident posture.

The man in black swooped around, like a lion, encaged in the barriers of yellow tape. He circled his prey: a table, long and elegant, with gleaming reflections from the torches of the crowd that seemed to be desperately trying to draw the attention away from the enemy of the table – a woman, in a long, silk black dress, lying like a child making sand angels, arms and legs pointing in four different directions. The pose was alluring and inviting, and some would have found it arousing if not for her left breast, pushed aside by a glimmering blade that lay on the table beside it, stained with red. The black lion, its braided mane swishing behind it, drew closer to his prey: a small, busy little man in a white coat, enquiring without a hint of disgust into the eyes of the woman which stared effortlessly up into the black ceiling above.

"What the FUCK do you think you are doing? THIS IS A GOD-DAMN CRIME SCENE!" screamed the braided man, pointing a furious finger at the little scientist.

"Duo…please…"

"SHUT UP, TROWA! I am FED UP with this fucking colony arrogance. Where's the fucking liaison? Lazy shit." yelled Duo, stomping around and searching with his eyes.

"Mr. Duo! I'm the liaison. What is the problem?"

"Maxwell! Mr. Fucking Maxwell to you. Can you not fucking see what the problem is?" screamed Duo, moving ever closer to Quatre's face.

"He's not usually like this, believe me…I think someone's tipped him over the edge. He's usually such a nice man…" whispered Trowa into Quatre's right ear, winking unseen in the darkness.

"Why don't you tell this pink-shirted fool here what the problem is yourself, my good man?" said Duo with falsetto calmness to the white-coated scientist, who was exploring the nasal cavity of the corpse with a metal rod.

The little man stood up as tall as he could, facing Quatre and Barton, nudging his spectacles up his nose. "I am conducting a post-mortem for my company's private use. I trust this will not be of concern to such a generous and well-managed police force such as yourselves.

"Jesus Christ almighty…" sighed Duo, walking towards the scientist again, reaching into his back pockets. He would like nothing better to spin the little fucker around, slam him against the floor and pull his arms behind his back right now, thought Quatre. Not a good plan.

"Mr. Maxwell, I must request that you be calm." Quatre's voice rang out with clear confidence, drawing the attention of the assembled lawyers, officers and coroners to this new character in the unfolding drama of the scene. Duo span round, his finger pointed towards Quatre. His mouth opened, but shut again as he took a deep breath.

"Yes, Mr. Please continue".

Quatre walked over to the scientist, his footsteps against the cold floor breaking the silence in the room. He stood next to him, towering over him and looking down into his eyes, using textbook controlling tactics. Trowa smiled at Duo, who looked back at them, and nodded knowingly.

"I must request that you cease your activities immediately, Mr…?"

"May. Doctor May. This is for our internal enquiry. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave." Duo seethed in the background.

Quatre leant over slowly, turning his head to whisper in Dr. May's left ear. "I must remind you that this is Earth. I have the power to take you down to a cell, where you will spend the night with bread and water in humiliation. Subsequently, you will be tried for Obstructing the Course of Justice, and could face a lengthy prison term. I am sure that it would not be favourable for you and your employers to suffer the public shame of having their top scientist inside."

Duo strained forward. "Can you hear them?" he whispered to Trowa. Trowa nodded.

"Classic. Carefully worded, calm threat, interspersed with a compliment. Supposed to place the subject entirely under your control."

Duo whistled loudly, catching the attention of the people around him. "Man, this pink-shirt's better than he looks, I guess…"

"We'll see" muttered Trowa.