Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!
DISCLAIMOR: I still don't own Gundam Wing. I'm entering negotiations with the true owners, but it doesn't look so good for the home team . . . :sighs:
A/N: This chapter contains explicit, adult situations. For the sake of the story, I won't go into detail right now, but I'm giving you a fair warning.
No one noticed the sunrise that morning, or the way the rays from the sun cut through the clouds on the horizon. Turning first purple, than pink, the sun slowly began its ascent into the sky. The black night turned grey, lightening as the dawn went on. The stars paled, then eventually disappeared, making way for another light to shine. The birth of the new day went unnoticed.
Shawn eased his worn body agaisnt the bullet-scarred oak, staring up at the tree's leaves, watching the sunlight light them up one by one. His friend, Solo, lay on level ground nearest the fire. His bandages had been replaced, and, despite his condition, it was a good chance that he'd live. Shawn looked around the motely camp, noting the few survivors.
They had found two others, each wounded. One was the doctor, which was why the badly wounded rebels weren't yet dead. He had twisted his ankle when the fighting started, and managed to crawl into the forest before their attackers could enter their base. The other was less fortunate. Like Solo, she had been shot. Her thigh was heavily bandaged, yet blood still seeped through in spots.
Anguish and hopelessness set in. Shawn had not found his cousin and only surviving family member, but instead found signs that she had been taken captive. The doctor and the woman, Karen Westly, said that they had seen the attackers carrying several people away. However, they didn't know if Trinity had been among those taken, or even how many had been taken.
"I can't believe it," muttered one of the survivors, Gregory Tripe. "One minute, life's normal an' stuff, and the next . . ."
Dr. Allen Hollister sighed in agreement, but said nothing. There was much to say, but the survivors were unwilling to talk, as if they were still hoping to awaken and find it a horrible nightmare. Karen shifted stiffly, her face paling from the pain.
"Why?" Shawn finally asked, not able to stand the silence any more. "Why did they attack us?"
They didn't know how to answer the question; each had thought the same question at least once during the night. Anger coursed through the young, blond man's body.
"Goddamnit, why!" he shouted, getting to his feet. "What the fuck did we ever do to them! We aren't a threat to them, we never were! WHAT THE HELL GIVES THEM THE RIGHT TO DO THIS TO US!"
Shawn looked as though he'd say more, but Solo stirring seemed to bring his anger back down. The taller man immediately knelt beside his friend, a burning hope filling his eyes. Slowly, Solo began to come around. His handsome features twisted, reflecting some inner pain. His cobalt blue eyes snapped open.
"Where's Trin?" he asked hoarsely. Shawn bit his lip, and turned away, unable to answer. "Where is she?"
Dr. Hollister cleared his throat. "We . . . We don't know."
"What do you mean?" he demanded hotly.
"We were kinda hoping you'd be able to tell us," Shawn finally said, looking at him with a closed, empty expression.
"I saw her," Solo told him with a pained expression. "But she looked . . . she looked d-dead."
"Tranquilizors," Karen supplied. "They used tranqs on a buncha people to keep 'em quiet so they wouldn't make any fuss on the shuttle."
Solo nodded, accepting her explanation, because the alternative was more than he could bear. "He was there, too."
"Who?" Tripe asked, biting his lip.
"Marquise. He wasn't in an Allies' uniform, but it was him."
"Son of a bitch," Shawn muttered. He whirled around, punching the oak as hard as he could. "SONOFABITCH!"
The blond haired young man got to his feet and stormed off. None of the other survivors tried to stop him. A few moments later, a tortured scream cut through the air.
Tears pricked Solo's eyes, but didn't fall.
She felt as though she were swimming in molasses. Little by little, consciousness came back to her. At first, she heard little sounds, the rustling of fabric rubbing together or the sniffling of someone crying, then she could hear voices. They floated above her, making her feel like she was underwater.
"C'mon, Trin, you can make it," a familiar, masculine voice urged. "Come back to us, Trin."
"Lemme sleep in, Solo," she grumbled, rolling over. Her heart lept in her throat when she found that the edge of her bed was much closer than she remembered. Grasping for anything to slow her fall, Trinity slid to the hard, cold floor, her prussian blue eyes wide open in fright.
The room was not dark, but the lights were dim. It was big, large enough for three or more people to share comfortably. Five cots lined each wall, though, and it looked as though all but one had been used. Trinity stood shakily, staring at six of her friends in confusion.
"Wh-what happened?" she asked, stammering in confusion and fear. "Where are we?"
"We were ca'tured by the Allies' Army," Victor Crane told her, his words oddly muffled and slurred. Looking closer, Trinity realized his lips were swollen. One eye was almost swollen shut. She looked at the others for answer, and saw that many sported similar injuries.
Seeing her apparent confusion, Daniel Edwards spoke up. "They've been takin' us one at a time, jus' beatin' the shit outta us. Not even askin' us questions."
"God," breathed Trinity in horror. "How could they?"
"They're animals," Victor said angrily. "Fuckin' lowlives."
"God," she repeated. "Oh, God. Where are the others? What happened to Solo? Shawn?"
"Dunno," Daniel whispered. "The bastards who . . . who did this to us said that we were the only survivors."
Unable to speak, Trinity sank down to the bed. She tried to talk, but she only managed to open and close her mouth. She wanted to tell them that they were wrong, that her lover and cousin were still alive, but she couldn't find the words. Her hand fell to her stomach.
The door suddenly opened, and two greasy-looking, Allies' Army soldiers walked in, supporting a tiny waif of a girl. They tossed her to the floor, and glowered at their prisoners. The battered and bruised girl started to cry, but they didn't notice. Their gaze fell on Trinity, who was still too much in shock to even care if they came in or not.
"Whadda you want," Daniel sneered, stepping between them and Trinity.
The dark haired soldier backhanded him. "Shuddup, faggit!"
"I see the other bitch's up," his companion said. "We'll need ta talk ta her next."
"She jus' got u'," Victor told them. "Leave're alone."
"You wanna 'nother black eye, pretty boy?" growled the soldier menacingly. "You, bitch, get yer ass o'er here!"
Trinity looked up at them, trying to comprehend what was going on. Her gaze fell on the girl. Her clothes were rumpled and ripped, and her face and arms were covered with bruises. The way she was sitting told the entire story.
"'Ey!" shouted the dark haired soldier, stalking up to the petite blond. "I'm talkin' to you, fuckin' whore!"
She pulled away from him. "Don't you touch me!"
"Fiesty one, aincha?" he crowed. His companioin started to walk up to her as well, but three of the men stood in his way. He backhanded one, then drew his handgun.
"Back off," the soldier growled. The other grabbed Trinity's arm tightly, and pulled her towards him. Both glaring at the other battered prisoners, they backed out of the room, nearly dragging the petite blond with them.
Slamming the door shut, then locking it, they started down the hall, both gripping her arms so tightly she knew she was going to have bruises. Their pace was quick, so quick, Trinity was having a hard time keeping up with them. She tried to twist out of their grip, but it was pointless.
"I can walk, you know," she told them.
"Shut yer mouth, girlie," snarled one. "You don' speak 'til you're spoken to, got it, bitch?"
Hurling a thousand and one expletives their way in her mind, Trinity held her tongue in check. She didn't want to be beaten just yet, but she knew what the soldiers were planning. A plan was forming in her mind when they stopped at a windowless door. Knocking a familiar beat, the waited to be let in.
The door was opened by an equally greasy-looking soldier. His leering grin sickened the blond, and she tried to pull away from her jailors yet again. Her captors only tightened their grip, though. The two soldiers stepped in the room, which was barely enough to fit them all, including the fourth in the back, dragging Trinity behind them. She tried everything to get away, but they merely laughed at her attempts. Finally, one backhanded her. The blow sent her to the floor, seeing stars.
One of the soldiers in the room picked her up by her hair, holding her face close to his. She could smell the stale alcohol on his foul breath. "We're gonna show you what happens to rebel bitches."
Trinity spat at his face. "Go fuck a dog, you bastard!"
He threw her across the room, cursing and swearing. He went after her, but one of his companions stopped him.
"Let's take our time with her, eh?" he suggested. "The security room's gonna be empty for two more hours."
"Alright," he spat, glaring at Trinity. Panic set in and she made a mad dash for the door, a scream in her throat. However, one of the soldiers blocked her path and punched her in the stomach to silence her. Trinity collasped to the ground, gasping for air. A boot, whose she didn't know, came out of nowhere, and smashed into her ribs. Another boot landed on her shoulder, forcing her in a prone position. She tried to stand, or at the very least get to her knees, but a hand grabbed her hair and pulled her up.
"You better last, you fuckin' whore," snarled the dark haired soldier. He drew back his fist and slammed it across her face. Blood erupted from her nose, spilling down to her shirt. She was shoved to another soldier, who blackened her eye with a fist. The next forcefully kissed her, bruising her mouth. The abuse went on for what seemed like hours, but in reality it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes.
Trinity was shoved on a chair, and a groan escaped her bleeding lips. Something warm and wet was shoved into her mouth, and a rope was pulled across it, gagging her. Awakened by this new motion, Trinity knew exactly what it was for, and who it was last used on. She bucked against the chair, kicking and flailing her fists wildly, screaming against the gag. A crushing force in her diaphragm made the edges of her vision blacken. By the time she could breath again, she was already being held down.
Rough hands fondled her breasts, bruising them. They forced her top up, already having torn her overshirt off. The fabric was ripped in two, and fluttered to the floor. Humiliation burned in Trinity, but try as she might, she could not get free. The hands moved lower, unfastening her pants and tearing them off, forcing her underwear to her ankles. Savage fingers forced themselves into her; damaging parts of her that she had, until just recently, thought untouchable by all but Solo. Teeth bit down on her exposed nipple, almost breaking the skin in their savagry.
She continued to struggle, trying to scream against the gag. Tears of shame, anger, and pain rolled down her reddened, swelling cheeks. At the edge of her paniked vision, she saw one of the soldiers fumbling with his belt and zipper. A barbaric man held each leg, forcing her wide open, and one held her arms above her head.
Hopeless despair filled her, and Trinity longed for death.
Eek . . . Sorry about that, folks. Not only to I do something terrible to Trinity, but I leave it off on a cliffhanger . . . I'll have the next chapter posted sometime next week or so. And just for the record, I'm so against rape, it's not even funny. But just so you know, the soldiersget it in the end . . .