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.
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22:02 Hours --
Trowa held his breath as yet another soldier walked below him.
Shifting his position slightly, attempting to hide himself further in the shadows that permeated the small area he was crammed in, he concentrated on getting his left leg to wake back up. It had fallen asleep from the strain of being held in the same folded position for the last fifteen minutes.
Glancing over, the Heavy Arms pilot studied his companion.
He had to commend Duo. He, at least, didn't look a bit uncomfortable.
Indeed, the Deathscythe pilot was balanced precariously upon the pipe just as Trowa was, not using the wall behind them for balance, staring at the activities below with bright, wide, attentive eyes.
After the soldier below had passed, Duo nodded to Trowa before hopping silently out of the rafters they were secreted in, landing noiselessly on the ground.
After making certain that Duo was down safely, Trowa launched himself off the pipe, twisting gracefully in the air before landing silently next to the other boy, his bangs flopping over his face as he stood.
"Show off," Duo whispered before dashing into a corner.
Trowa smirked as he followed the black-clad youth, diving into the shadows just in time to avoid detection by the roving security camera's lens.
18:15 Hours --
Trowa looked warily at the chunk of mutton that was hanging off his fork. Everything else he'd eaten at the estate had been spiced to the point of burning his tongue and forming blisters in his mouth, so understandably he was more than a little wary of this newest offering served to him upon the fine china dishes.
Xavier, of course, was no help. That man apparently had a mouth of iron, able to withstand everything and anything that any cook could whip up.
"It's good, Trowa! You should give it a try!" he said between mouthfuls.
Duo was Trowa's object of attention. The boy's reaction would be his deciding factor in whether he ate or he starved for the night.
Duo popped a piece of the cooked meat into his mouth and chewed, one eyebrow arched over a violet orb. "Hey, not bad!" he said before he began to shovel as if rabid ravens were after his dinner.
Trowa nodded, carefully placing his precisely cut piece of mutton between his lips and chewing. 'Hm! Tasty. Better than Cathy's cooking, for certain.'
'Poor Heero.'
Trowa suppressed a laugh, remembering the Wing pilot's first reaction to Catherine's valiant attempt at meatloaf.
Turning his eyes to the empty spot at the table, Trowa mentally sighed.
James Waverly, seemingly their only comrade in this war of unscrupulous undermining of supposed allies and deceptive ploys, had left their company nearly seven hours ago.
That left them alone with Chad Lesley and Xavier Johnson, neither of which Trowa placed much credence in.
"Neh, Trowa," Duo's voice suddenly said, shattering the emerald-eyed boy's sphere of solitude, "need to ask you a few things after dinner, alright?"
"Sure thing. What about?"
"Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance."
Arching a brow, Trowa shrugged. 'Meaning he doesn't want to tell me with the other two in the room.'
Duo winked at him. "How's about my room?"
"No problem."
Trowa nodded. 'Motorcycle maintenance. He wants to meet in the garage.'
10:00 Hours --
"You're walking right into their hands."
"I'm very aware of that, Mr. Barton," James Waverly snarled as he pulled his uniform jacket into place and began to button it. "You know, for some damned reason I really don't feel like wearing this stupid thing."
Trowa arched a brow as the older man threw his coat off and shrugged on a denim jacket instead.
"By the way, Barton," the man started again, glancing over, "you'll want to be ready tonight. If I'm walking into Hell, that means that Quatre's gonna want to get the hell outta Dodge before they turn their eyes on him."
Trowa nodded.
"OZ got our conversation. No doubts about that. You weren't the only one monitoring the phone lines."
"You knew I tapped in?"
"Of course. As I said before, Barton, you're as easy to read as a book."
Crossing his arms, Trowa watched the other man.
"Besides, knowing you, you'll go in anyway, 'cause your pooky's in danger."
"What?"
"You DO know that things are getting hotter than the fires of hell 'round that damned mansion. Especially if they've got me. It means they've been keeping their eyes out for odd or mysterious behaviors and activities."
"Quatre's an obvious target."
"Duh. He's the most blatantly obvious intruder that they have in their midst, and I wouldn't doubt that everyone there knows it. Maybe Channok's too fucking blinded by lust, subliminal implanted suggestion and work to notice, but that doesn't mean that everyone else isn't thoroughly suspicious of the kid. He's good, but his control isn't THAT spectacular. Maybe when he grows up, he'll be a huge force to be reckoned with in that respect. But he isn't right now. And that's what 's going to get him killed."
Trowa looked at the ground as what the OZ soldier said slowly sank into his heart. "However, Quatre has yet to send word. This could simply be another attempt to set me up for capture."
"Heh, smart kid." Shaking his head, James shed his denim jacket, deciding on an overcoat this time. Pulling the long trench coat into place, he nodded at his image in the mirror before diving into his walk in closet once more. "Sorry 'bout that. It wasn't intentional on my part. I could have sworn that you could've pulled it off."
"Really." Trowa snorted softly.
"Yeah, really. How the fuck was I supposed to know that someone'd be tipped off inside the facilities?"
"You mean you suspect Johnson?"
"As much as I suspect that my Granny's been dead five years this October."
Trowa nodded.
"And as much as I suspect that you're not Trowa Barton. But that doesn't really matter to me right now. All I frankly care about is my own damned hide, which is about to be forfeited by your little lover."
Choking on the breath he'd drawn, the Gundam pilot stared into the closet at the rummaging form of James Waverly.
'He knows…?'
"And now, let me simply say this. If you follow me, you do so only for Quatre. And you leave tonight, when you won't be caught so easily. Use that braided twerp. He can probably get you in easy. You follow me for curiosity's sake, don't follow my orders and try to either rescue me or give me completely away, I introduce you to my buddy here, first hand. And don't think that I won't take any pleasure in blowing your banged head right off your shoulders. I live for that kind of thing."
Simply nodding, Trowa looked down the barrel of the Ingram M-11 that was thrust into his face. "Understood."
"Good."
12:21 Hours --
Trowa scratched his chin as he looked at the chessboard he'd seen Waverly previously adjust.
09:32 Hours --
"I don't have much time, so better have a pen and paper ready."
"Got'cha, kid," James' voice cracked over the flimsy speakers.
"Move the rook from D5 to G5. I think you can figure out the strategy from there."
Trowa listened as James Waverly gulped quietly. "I… understand."
"I'm sorry, James," Quatre's voice quietly sighed.
"I understand. They're on to me?"
"Yeah…."
12:22 Hours --
Trowa sighed quietly.
'That rook's toast. No way around it. There's no defensive way to escape capture from at least three pieces in that position. However…'
Walking over to the board to his left, he stared at the configuration.
'That move does take pressure off the newly introduced Queen.'
10:19 Hours --
Trowa frowned, following James into the chess room.
"See these boards, Barton? Know what they're used for?"
"Quatre uses them to strategize."
"Correct. So, what do you suspect he's doing?"
Trowa sighed, shaking his head. "I've been trying to figure that out for the last few days. I've yet to make any headway."
"You're looking at each board individually, aren't you?"
Trowa arched a brow, looking with curiosity at the older man.
Groaning, James rolled his eyes. "Moron. You fell for it."
"Fell for it?"
"He's hiding his true strategy right before your eyes. And you fucking fell for the simple little ploy he used to cover it up. Fuck. Well, at least that gives me some comfort. If you don't see it, that means that Chad the mime and Xavier the idiot have yet to see it, either."
"Show me what you're talking about."
"Alright, fine," James quietly sighed, taking him to one of the boards. "See this queen?"
'That's the queen that used to be on the board on the right! Why did he move it here?' Trowa nodded as he silently mused.
"Do you see anything threatening this queen?"
"No. It seems completely unguarded."
"It's not. In fact, it's about to be captured."
"Where do you see that move?"
"Over here." Grabbing Trowa's arm, he dragged him to the board on the right, which sported the rook James had placed when Trowa had been monitoring the room earlier.
Trowa's eyes widened. "The bishop can capture the queen, as can the rook and that knight, if you were…"
"Connecting the boards."
With a smirk, James shrugged. "That kid uses chess to strategize, right? Well, think about it this way, Trowa. No bit of life is so simple that you can set it on sixty-four squares. However, with two hundred and fifty-six different squares and endless patterns thanks to the sixty-four square neutral ground over yonder, anything can happen. THIS is what mimics life so perfectly, Trowa. This is what he uses to plan his moves, his life, his strategies, and win."
12:24 Hours --
Trowa sighed, shaking his head.
He recognized this strategy as well.
Quatre did seem to take quite a liking to sacrificing his more powerful pieces, keeping those unexpected to be played into power later in the game. If one piece could save five, so be it.
He played the game of odds.
He was sacrificing one piece to save the rest.
18:44 Hours --
Duo joined Trowa underneath the Mercedes S-class that was parked near the workbench in the garage.
"Yo," Duo greeted, grunting as he hefted himself fully under the small sports car.
"Were you followed?"
"Hell no, but I did snatch a glimpse of Chad heading towards the stairs to the bedrooms after I doubled back along the rafters. Think he's going to try and listen in at my room. No worries, though. I turned on my stereo really loud to attempt and psyche him out. Ya know, make him think we were in there discussing vital plots and shit."
"Good plan. So, what did you want to talk about?"
"We're going in, aren't we? Into that OZ stronghold, that is."
"Yes."
"Pullin' Quatre out?"
Trowa closed his eyes. "If we can find him."
"No worries, Trowa. We'll find him. But what's with this sudden change in plans? I thought the entire endangering bit had you off this kick."
"He sent word when Waverly was captured."
"Ah, I see, I see. So that guy DID turn himself in…"
"Yep."
"Was he the one tryin' to kill me?"
Trowa glanced over. 'Waverly was intent on removing Duo from the playing field, but wasn't the one to plant the bomb. Or so he said.'
"No. It was someone else."
"Crap!" Duo hissed, turning his glower to the exhaust manifold right above his head. "Meaning that whoever the fuck it is that was trying to screw us over is still among us, right?"
"Yep."
"Oh, gee, the one word bandit strikes again."
"Duo…"
"Quiet?"
"No. Get to your point."
"Fine, fine. My point is that we're going in after Quatre. We should discuss a plan."
"No Gundams."
"Well, duh. Gundams would draw gunfire down on his little blond head. They'll suspect that he called us in. Nope, I realize we're gonna hafta be all sneaky like."
"I don't' think that infiltration will work."
"What? No soldiers there with braids past their asses?"
Trowa chuckled, shaking his head.
"Holy mother of fuck, you've just about made me a prayin' man again, Trowa! There must be a God! He laughs!"
"Shut up."
22:11 Hours --
So there they were, creeping through the shadows.
'All sneaky like, as Duo would put it. Must congratulate him, though. He's more skilled at this than I suspected he would be.'
Duo lightly pressed against his chest, shoving him against the wall. "Camera," he hissed quietly.
Trowa nodded, remaining still.
After a few tense minutes, Duo stepped into the hallway again, tugging his black cap over his head. "Tell you what. This place is pretty fucking huge, so why don't we split up?"
"Not a bad idea."
"At that hallway ahead, you take left. I'll take right. Avoid the fucking cameras, avoid the damned guards."
"Of course."
"If you hear explosives, that means that all hell's broken loose."
Trowa arched a brow. 'If that manic grin is telling me anything, it's that Duo's going to be the one to START whatever altercations are going to happen.'
"Good luck, man."
"Good luck to you, too."
With that, they separated.
tbc...
