(wipes brow) Whew. Really got a lot of editing and fixes done this weekend. (grins, lobbing a third (hopefully) completely fixed and revised chapter out)
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-
00:09 Hours --
"You're sure this is the right one?" Duo whispered softly as they slowly sneaked through the dark basement-turned-dungeon.
"Aa."
"How do you know?" Trowa quietly questioned, stepping over a grouping of cords, making certain to snap them before either of his two companions could step into the sites of the security camera's roving eye.
"I… I can feel it."
Duo and Trowa looked at one another, shrugged, and followed the blond boy to the cell he'd stopped before.
23:17 Hours, Yesterday--
It had taken over an hour, but Trowa had finally reached the door he'd last heard Quatre behind when he'd masqueraded as an OZ soldier. Laying his hand upon the oak panel, he pressed his ear to it and attempted to listen. Hearing nothing overly loud or seeming significant, he tried the doorknob.
'Locked. Of course.'
Glancing around, Trowa made certain that the cameras that faced the door weren't functioning any longer. He'd already been cutting wires as he'd traversed his old patrol route. However, checking over his work a second time was never a bad idea.
'And there shouldn't be any guards around here right now. They've probably all been summoned to the other end of the mansion, thanks to Duo.'
Trowa felt himself smile.
'I wonder if he planned it that way. If perhaps he knew where Quatre was, sent me after him, and decided to draw all the fire himself.'
'If that's the case, I must thank him once we make it out of here.'
Digging in his back jeans pocket, he fished out a pair of lock-picks and started working on the barrier between himself and the bedroom, chewing on his tongue as he concentrated on maneuvering the tiny shards of metal within the complicated knob. Reaching up with one hand he swept his bangs out of his eyes then returned to the lock.
He suddenly stopped.
He'd heard noise on the other side of the door.
Pressing his ear to it once more he listened carefully, attempting to determine if he'd been caught or not.
He heard deep, lusty moaning and the banging of a headboard against a wall.
Feeling his cheeks begin to burn, Trowa continued his work on the door.
22:42 Hours, Yesterday --
Trowa was more than a little shocked.
Here it was, half an hour after he'd separated from Duo, and he'd yet to hear the explosions he'd been expecting.
'Maybe he's actually behaving himself.'
The rocketing reverberation of a bomb detonating somewhere down the hallway behind him resounded in his ears.
'Scratch that thought.'
Trowa barely made it to a dark corner to hide in time as soldiers flew down the hallway, running in the opposite direction he was headed, screaming at each other to hurry their rears up and get the intruder before he escaped.
23:21 Hours, Yesterday --
Trowa listened with a satisfied smile as the doorknob clicked its confirmation that he had indeed succeeded in undoing the locking mechanism inside.
Carefully turning the knob he slowly opened the door, keeping his moves precise and snail-paced to prevent the door from squeaking or creaking. Slipping in, he carefully shut it behind him letting it fall back into place without a single click.
After entering the room Trowa quickly slid against the wall, making his way into the open closet, ducking amongst the clothing to watch what was happening from the safety of obscurity.
His eyes nearly burned with rage as he watched the writhing mass under the blankets.
Suddenly a dark-haired head burst free of the covers, gasping loudly as if for air before turning its steely gaze back upon whatever was below it. The head began to duck back down, lips pursed to deliver a kiss.
That kiss was never delivered.
Trowa lowered his SIG P229 Sport, his narrowed eyes shining with smug satisfaction as the larger form that carried the head he'd just shot with his .357 slug fall back onto the bed with a heavy thud, blood spraying from the perfect shot which had ruptured the artery that fed the brain and soaking the pillows and covers that surrounded it.
Marching out of the closet, he approached the bed. Gripping the covers, he whipped them back and peered.
There was a small pale-skinned body lying below the other man.
That was completely nude.
And that was glaring coldly at him.
"Think you could allow me the chance to get decent before marching out of the closet to say hi? Or do you really WANT a peep show, Trowa?"
"Gomen!"
"Just turn around. Let me out from under this guy and get something on."
"H… hai."
Flushed red to the point of being comparable to a tomato the taller pilot turned his back to the scene, listening as Quatre crawled out of the bed and hissed.
"Great. Blood. Think I have time for a shower?"
"Um… yeah. Quick one."
"Join me?"
Trowa promptly staggered, catching himself before his forehead made its way any closer to the plush carpeted floor that it desired to meet, warding off the ensuing curtain of blackness that hovered before him calling his name with a few rapid blinks of his eyes.
"I'll take that as a 'not this time, Quatre,'" the boy said with a light laugh.
Trowa was still standing, rigid and unmoving, as the other boy's feet padded lightly across the room and another door opened and closed.
23:33 Hours, Yesterday --
Trowa was still standing in the same place as he heard that same door that had opened and closed earlier do so again.
"You can turn around, Trowa. Or are you content to stare at the wall all night? I would really like to talk to your face rather than your back when I discuss with you just how we're going to get out of here."
"Oh… right." Turning, Trowa nodded.
And, as his eyes settled their gaze upon the shorter pilot, his mouth fell open entirely of its own accord.
Quatre simply arched a brow as Trowa continued to stare, putting the majority of his weight upon one leg and resting his right hand upon his hip, leaving his left hand alone holding the jacket he most likely intended to complete his ensemble. Tilting his head slightly, he let his eyes slowly drift closed until they were nothing but solid blue, narrow seas dominating his almost ghostly pale face. "What?"
Trowa couldn't respond. He was too busy staring.
The boy was clad in…
Vinyl.
Entirely clad in vinyl.
Clad in vinyl that glistened with wetness from the consolidated steam that had gathered upon it in the bathroom.
A tight red vinyl halter top with a silvery zipper complete with a large steel ring to draw it up and down covered his chest, starting in mid-neck and halting its downward crawl along his body inches above his navel, leaving the vicious belly-wound that was finally beginning to heal exposed. Partially zipped down and scrunched to hug the base of his neck, the top also allowed a wonderful view of the studded dog collar that looped around the boy's thin neck.
Indecently tight black vinyl pants encased the Gundam pilot's legs, hugging along his hips, held in place by a metal-studded black belt. Lacing rather than a zipper closed the front, and zippers ran enticingly up both of his legs, starting at the belt and stopping somewhere that was hidden in the boy's tall shiny black combat boots that were laced with buckles and zippers themselves.
Quatre tossed his jacket on. The black vinyl article clung to his arms like a second skin, yet was draping loosely over his thin torso. Gripping the bottom of it, he zipped it up halfway, obscuring the view of his abdomen from prying eyes, leaving the barest glimpse of pale flesh visible on occasion.
Shaking his head, flinging his still wet and dripping bangs back, the boy arched a brow at his companion. "Trowa…?"
Trowa stared as a drop of water slowly snaked its way down the red top only to vanish below the black jacket.
"Trowa…"
He watched as the dewy drops of moisture that were scattered about the black pants slowly dripped, called to run the length of the blond boy's shapely legs by gravity.
"You're drooling, Trowa."
Slurp.
23:36 Hours, Yesterday --
Trowa nodded slowly at what Quatre was saying.
"As said, biggest problem is going to be getting Duo out of the heat he's thrown himself into. Especially if he IS drawing fire, like you suspect he is."
Raising his gaze, Trowa sighed. "But what about your infiltration? Is this portion of your plan completely destroyed?"
"Not entirely," Quatre said with a sigh. "I got nearly everything I need. What I didn't fetch I'll have to retrieve at a later time, when things calm down. A good deal of that information that has already been retrieved has already been sent to my computer. Which reminds me that we're going to have to disconnect the mainframe once we get back home. Don't want OZ to be able to back-hack into my files."
"Got'cha."
"However, there IS one loose end to wrap up before we leave here."
"Which is?"
Quatre sighed quietly, his dark eyes ridden with some undeterminable emotion as he stared at the floor. "Waverly."
"We're going to eliminate him, aren't we?"
"I… don't know. I'll decide that when we reach him."
Trowa simply nodded.
"Well, may as well be on our way."
"You going to carry a weapon? I've only got nine shots left."
"Yeah, hold on a moment."
Trowa watched as Quatre ducked into the closet, then attempted to resist the urge to whistle as the boy reemerged.
There was something about Quatre with his titanium Desert Eagle Magnum holstered at his right hip and a Bushmaster XM15 V Match rifle strapped to his back that was incredibly appealing to him.
Smirking, the blond boy nodded. "Let's go, Trowa."
"Aa."
Trowa followed like an obedient puppy as the gun-toting vinyl-clad boy marched into the hallway.
00:10 Hours --
Duo had the door opened in no time flat.
"Heh. You'd think these OZ guys would use higher quality locks," the boy said as he slipped his bobby pin back into his hair.
Trowa simply stared at the braided pilot. 'How much does he have crammed into that braid? He's already revealed three small bombs, a bobby pin, and a sheathed throwing dagger…'
"Thanks, Duo," Quatre said, completely snapping Trowa out of his reverie. Stepping forward, the blond boy pushed the door open, cringing slightly as it creaked.
Light spilled across the bound figure that sat in the plain concrete cell.
Lifting dark hazel eyes, the man smirked. "You finally arrived, eh? Nice outfit, Quatre."
The blond boy blushed. "It was the most conservative thing I could find in a hurry."
Trowa bit lightly on his tongue to keep himself from commenting, even as Duo just let his eyes widen and shook his head, completely stunned at the proclamation. "If that's the most conservative thing he could find, I'd hate to see what the REST of his wardrobe looks like," Duo muttered softly under his breath. Trowa nodded his agreement.
"Alright. So. Going to end it, kid?" Lifting his gaze, his eyes steely and smug with pride, the man smiled grimly. "I'm waiting."
Quatre looked him over, his eyes brimming with sadness. "I…."
"Heh. C'mon. They may actually get me to talk, seein' as how they're using my own fucking techniques on me. Lousy bastards."
"I won't."
Everyone stared.
23:52 Hours, Yesterday --
Trowa ran after Quatre, his gun cocked and ready before him as they raced through the hallways.
Rounding a corner, he lowered his gun's barrel and rapidly opened fire.
Six guards fell, spurting blood, as his gun clicked. "I'm out, Quatre!"
Nodding, the smaller boy quickly swung his rifle into his hands off his shoulder and braced it. Pulling the trigger, he stepped back as the kick of the weapon slammed into his arm, temporarily setting him off balance.
The final remaining guard's head exploded in a spray of blood, bone and gray matter.
Shouldering his gun again, Quatre hissed, "Let's go! He's not that far!"
Nodding, Trowa joined the other boy in the rapid run through the field of bodies, remembering to pick up a gun on his way. Quickly spinning the Smith & Wesson 4013TSW in his fingers to get a feel for its grip, he loaded it, flicked the safety off, and rounded yet another corner.
Both pilots raised their weapons, even as they stared as one down the barrel of a Ruger P97D.
That pistol was suddenly lifted, and a hand displayed in its place. "Don't shoot, you guys! It's me!"
Quatre quickly lifted the barrel of the Bushmaster rifle, even as Trowa lowered his newly acquired pistol.
Duo flashed them a manic grin that shown bright and white from his smoke-blackened and smudged face. "Hey, Quatre! Nice outfit! Turn around a couple of times, neh?"
With a fruitful blush, the boy turned on his heel and began running back down the hall, calling out, "No time! Loose end needs taking care of!"
"Loose end?" Duo asked, glancing over at Trowa even as he slipped a filled magazine into his gun, leaving the empty cartridge on the floor.
"James Waverly."
"Oh…." Bowing his head, Duo sighed. "I got'cha."
00:12 Hours --
James simply arched a brow at Quatre's proclamation. "You won't? Just leavin' me to suffer instead?"
"You're creative. You can figure a way out of this."
Smirking, James shrugged with light-hearted ease. "Maybe, maybe. But this cell hasn't been altered for easy escape. They closed off that one."
"Sorry…"
"Hey, not your fault. It's bang-boy's fault for getting his lousy ass captured and giving that particular secret out."
Trowa snorted softly.
"You can get out of this, James."
"What? Sorry to see me in this position? Or recognizing that I'm a bit too vital to give up on yet?"
"Both," the blond admitted, smiling gently.
"Fine, fine. We'll see what I can do."
"Even if you have to reveal everything…"
"Hey, no worries, kid. That's what I've got in mind." Smirking, the man stretched as best as he could with his hands lashed behind his back. "After all, once they discover that I've been working for the Rebel Alliance and spyin' on their stupid asses for the last four years, they may just consider trying to plea-bargain with me. Service for them against my employers in exchange for my life."
"Four… years…?" Duo whispered quietly.
Trowa was simply staring, his eyes widened with disbelief.
"I'll inform H that you won't be contacting him for awhile."
"Thanks for covering my ass, kiddo."
Quatre smiled, lightly caressing the older man's cheek. "No problem."
Duo suddenly interrupted again, lightly tugging on both Trowa and Quatre's arms. "Um, guys? We need to go. Now."
"What's wrong?" Trowa and Quatre both asked in unison.
"I heard footsteps coming this way. We're gonna have company really damned soon."
tbc...
