Ah, back from the briny blue. So good to be home.
Review replies!
Morris: AH! Sorry I didn't catch your review with the last chapter – you must've posted it right after I posted chapter 13, before it showed up (cursed fanfiction . net and its lag time)! Crap. Thanks for the compliment! I'm happy you're enjoying the characterization. I'll strive to keep up the quality. :)
YiyangYoung: Whyyyy do you fear the demented grin? Eh heh heh. And as for questions about Quat - he's not immune to everything, but he's damned on top of almost anything that can be thrown at him. He's not perfect, though. :) And glad I threw you for a loop. (LOL) That's the purpose of most've this fic. (VEG)
Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam W. Don't sue; I'm simply an E-5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.
-BEGIN FIC-
11:55 Hours --
Trowa marched around the corner and nodded to Xavier Johnson. After saluting the other man, he continued along his patrol route, eyes narrowed, step quick with determination.
'Five minutes to lunchtime. Five minutes before I find that terminal myself. I can't wait any longer for that information to wrap this up. Something's happening on the home front that I can't ignore.'
Rounding the corner, Trowa glanced up at a security camera.
'First thing's first. Got to find a computer terminal and disable security to that room.'
'Should be something I can accomplish today without any problems. After all, it's nothing I've never done before.'
'Hmph. And the last time I was saying that to myself, I was locked in a cell.'
'Bad time for reminders about that, Trowa. Concentrate on the here and now.'
Nodding with his own thoughts, he found himself before the door he knew lead to Gregory Channok's room. Frowning, he wondered if Quatre was still there.
'Probably is. He is injured, after all. He shouldn't be moving around all that much.'
Rubbing aimlessly at his own dully-aching side, he grimaced. 'Neither of us has recovered yet from that night, eh? Hmph. Well, it was only, what, five or six days ago…'
'Enough thought rambling, Trowa. Only one minute until lunch.'
He checked his watch, verifying his internal clock's accuracy.
'And we've GOT to wrap this up today. Especially with Duo missing. That investigation needs to be taken up as soon as is possible.'
'We can't afford to lose anyone.'
17:00 Hours, Yesterday --
Johnson and Waverly were out of the Jeep as soon as it came to a stop. Trowa soon followed, staring at the manor in complete disbelief.
Even from the outside, the extent of the damages was quite apparent.
The large bay windows that once allowed light to pour across the living room within were blown out, pieces of glass littering the flower bed and lawn that were outside. Smoke poured through the shattered windowpanes, even as firefighters were dragging their hoses back to the engine that was parked on the plush grass.
The plumes of noxious black fumes slowly abated as the last of the civil personnel emerged from the structure.
"What happened?" Xavier immediately questioned, his eyes wide in shock as he faced one of the men who emerged from the smoke-stained household.
"Hell if I know," the man replied, shaking his head. "All I'm aware of is that we received a panicked call from the servants here saying that there was a loud boom and the house was on fire."
James remained silent, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the manor. Trowa, who was standing at his side, was an exact mirror of the other man, gazing intently at the house.
Trowa was the first of the two to speak. "You have any ideas?"
"Some."
"Better start talking buddy."
"Is that braided kid still around?"
Trowa felt his eyes narrow. "We'd better check."
"Yeah, you better."
Arching a brow, the green-eyed pilot regarded the man at his side. Waverly ignored him, keeping his gaze on the building.
With a shrug, Trowa walked over to the congregation of servants who were still being kept from entering the manor.
"Has anyone seen Duo?" he ventured to ask.
One man, one of the butlers as Trowa recalled, frowned. "No, sir. We haven't seen him since you left. I thought he'd gone with you."
'What the hell!'
"You're certain?"
"Yes, sir. You mean he's gone missing?"
"Apparently," Trowa muttered, turning his gaze to the mansion.
12:00 Hours --
Trowa cracked his knuckles.
'Security camera unplugged - check.'
'Security system set to playback tape from last hour in lieu of recording and displaying current images which would henceforth be unobtainable thanks to the fact that the camera is unplugged- check.'
'Security system monitor ridiculously drunk and therefore unable to comprehend that he's watching a recording rather than a live image - check.'
'Time to play with passwords.'
He sighed, slowly starting his way into the network.
'Quatre is after Channok's information regarding the Romefeller Foundation, correct? About what their plans are for OZ in the future regarding the colonies, the remainder of the Alliance, us…'
'Damn, I wish he was here. He could tell me exactly what to look for.'
With a shrug, he slid the CD-R into the computer's drive.
'Let me see. What to use. Ah, preferences… may as well initiate myself into the system as a verified user, right?'
His fingers danced over the keys.
18:00 Hours, Yesterday --
The situation had finally returned to a semblance of normalcy.
Standing in the shell that was once the living room, Trowa stared at the floor near where the television set used to be.
'No question. This is the site of the detonation. This happened thanks to a planted bomb. The blast pattern on the floor tells that easily enough.'
Stooping, he picked up a shard of plastic and looked it over.
'Someone planted a bomb in the television and hooked it to the power supply so that when it was powered on, it would activate the explosive device. Easy enough to see that. It's the same concept used with car bombs. Something I learned at a young age.'
Frowning, he turned the plastic around in his fingertips.
'But why use the television?'
'Unless the intended target was indeed Duo. He was the TV hound; at least as long as I had been observing him he was.'
'Why target Duo?'
'Maybe because he's as much of a threat as I am.'
'I wonder if Quatre knows about this.'
12:10 Hours, Yesterday --
Glancing around carefully, making certain he remained unnoticed by soldier and camera, Trowa glared coldly at the portly man who was quickly making his way into the room.
"Quatre-sama, I have done as you requested," Trowa overheard Chad Lesley saying in his distinct, throaty voice.
'Done as you requested…?'
18:20 Hours, Yesterday --
Trowa sighed.
'Of course Quatre knows about this.'
'Hell, at times, he even seems to be in on this.'
'Which means that, to determine what's going to happen next, I have to figure out what he's plotting.'
'Good luck, Trowa.'
Tossing the chunk of television back down, he looked over at the shredded remains of what was once the plush leather couch.
'At least we know that Duo made it out alright. If the servants hadn't seen him around the manor since I left with Johnson and Xavier to head to the base and create my alternate personality for this mission, then he most likely was out of harm's way when this thing went off.'
His eyes fell upon the ambulance that was finally rolling away down the street.
'So instead of Duo, some nameless servant takes the blast.'
He blinked without emotion, no single twinge of regret bothering his heart.
12:07 Hours --
Trowa arched a brow as he broke through the seventh firewall he'd thus far encountered.
'They certainly weren't kidding when they said that security was tight. However…'
He smirked, as Codebreaker 3001, a program of his own design, shattered the next 15-digit login sequence in record time.
'They're amateurs. It's not the worst I've ever encountered.'
18:40 Hours, Yesterday --
Trowa grumbled quietly as he finished his inspection of the living room.
His investigation hadn't turned up a single fingerprint.
"Find anything?" a harsh voice called behind him.
Calming his suddenly racing heart, Trowa turned and shook his head in response to the question asked by James. "Nothing. Whoever did this covered his tracks well."
"Alright," James said with a sigh.
'Relief? Or frustration? Hmph. And I thought I was a difficult person to read.'
"Anyone seen Chad, by the way?" Xavier asked as he walked into the room, plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of something that looked incredibly strong in the other.
"Not yet," Trowa replied as he stood up straight and dusted his hands off on his jeans.
"You think he's still in the area? After this shit? Wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't the one behind it," James snorted.
"You really think that?" Xavier questioned.
Trowa simply stood by silently, watching the two men verbally duke it out. 'Dissention amongst the ranks, eh?'
With a sigh, Xavier walked over to Trowa, holding out the plate. "Want one? You've had yet to eat anything all day."
Trowa looked at the plate with suspicion in his eyes. "No thanks."
"They're not poisoned."
"How can you prove that?"
"Want me to eat one?"
"You may be resistant to whatever you put in them."
Xavier laughed and rolled his eyes. "Touché. I see the lack of trust here."
"I thought I'd made that obvious since the start."
James sniggered quietly, shaking his head, snatching a cookie off of Xavier's plate and cramming it into his mouth. "Don't let him fuck with your head, Trowa. Xavier's a harmless moron. Plus he can't cook. These're probably from the servants."
"Watch your mouth, James," Xavier snorted before grinning. "But he is right about the cookies."
Trowa watched the two, then politely shook his head. "Not in the mood for chocolate chip, anyway. I'll have the servants bring me dinner later."
"Suit yourself."
Trowa shrugged as the two left the room, reengaged in their arguing. Turning back to the blasted remains of the living room, he sighed quietly.
'This is just getting more interesting every damned day, isn't it?'
Rubbing his head to ward off the impending migraine that was marching towards his skull with sledgehammer in hand, he retreated to the kitchen.
"Food. Anything chocolate. And anything you have with alcohol in it."
The servants scurried.
Trowa was pleasantly surprised when a bottle of JD was placed in front of him. 'Must say that this is the most intriguing Muslim household I've ever heard of. Alcohol on hand, eh? Quatre, I'm going to have to grill you about this later.'
His mind cackled quietly as his outer features remained stoically unemotional. Lifting the bottle, he unscrewed the top, grabbed the shot glass that was given to him, and proceeded to work his headache away in the most reliable fashion he knew.
12:15 Hours --
Trowa's eyes widened as he finally broke through security, and the spreadsheet began to load.
'Finally!' his mind cried even as he began typing the sequence of commands necessary to send the document to Zipit and burn it onto his CD-R.
His fingers suddenly paused as he heard the click of a gun's safety being disengaged behind his head.
"I knew you'd try."
Raising his hands carefully and slowly, Trowa felt his facial muscles form a frown.
"Turn around… Trowa."
Turning, he kept his face systematically blank as he did as his capture commanded.
Facing the person who'd caught him off guard, he let the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding slip from his lungs.
He was staring down the barrel of a familiar Desert Eagle Magnum.
Beyond that barrel was a pair of familiar dark blue eyes, framed by a far too pale face and platinum blond hair.
"Hands on top of your head."
Trowa complied.
And with a sigh, the blond boy walked to the wall and picked up the telephone hanging by the door, keeping his extremely deadly gun aimed at his target, his eyes focused on the kill. Lifting the receiver, he breathed into the device before sighing quietly, "Lab 19. I have our infiltrator."
tbc...
