Bounty Hunter Diaries, Chapter 9: Trieze Khushrenada Has Funny Eyebrows
Rated PG-13 For Cursing
I was having the most interesting dream involving Duo Maxwell and a set of handcuffs, when I was rudely interrupted by someone waving ammonia salts under my nose. The smell jerked me back into consciousness, and I discovered a few things:
1. Duo Maxwell, naked or otherwise was nowhere to be found
2. I was still wearing handcuffs, but not in the happy way I had been dreaming about
3. Treize Khushrenada is not a bad-looking guy, but he has creepy eyebrows.
I knew the last bit about Treize's eyebrows because he was hovering right in front of me, a smirk plastered on his patrician face.
"Good morning, Hilde." He said, oozing charm. However, since I was currently trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and nursing a massive headache, his charm rolled right off of me.
"What the hell is going on?" I managed to ask. My throat felt dry and scratchy and I could barely get the words out.
His grin went up a notch and he patted my cheek. "You and Maxwell are seriously getting on my nerves." He replied. I recoiled from his hand and that only seemed to amuse him more. He continued to stroke my cheek.
"I thought that perhaps I should send Maxwell a message." His caress turned into a stinging slap. My eyes watered with the pain, but I would not give him the satisfaction of crying. Instead, I glared at him.
He stepped back and feigned fear. "If looks could kill, Hilde, I'd be dead. Unfortunately, they don't and the only one ending up dead around here will be you." He turned and barked a command to someone who was out of my sight. A few moments later, the woman I recognized as Une, Relena and Cathy's waitress, came into my peripheral vision, a mini-cam in her hand.
"Hilde, why don't you smile for your boyfriend?" Trieze jerked my head up by my hair and laughed. "Look, Maxwell. Look good, because I guarantee this will be the last time you see her alive." He said for the camera.
"He's not my boyfriend, you dick!" I hissed, but Trieze ignored me.
Instead, he slapped me again and this time, I felt a small trickle of blood ooze from my bottom lip. I still wouldn't cry. No way. I come from a long line of people with more pride than common sense and I wasn't about to disgrace the family.
Treize frowned and let go of my hair. My head dropped down and I stared at him from under my sweaty bangs. He produced a knife from one of his pockets and crouched next to me again.
"I really think a scream or two would heighten the drama, Hilde." Treize said cheerfully, pressing the tip of the knife into my upper arm. I winced.
Treize sighed and withdrew the knife tip from my arm. "Let me hear you scream." He said quietly into my ear. I glared at him. He smiled. The knife came rushing towards me and embedded itself into my side. I couldn't be brave any more, my mouth opened and I screamed.
It hurt, oh god, it hurt. My entire left side felt like it was on fire. I bit my lip and tears dripped down my face, dropping to the floor to mix with my blood. My blood, pooling onto the filthy concrete floor. My eyes swam in and out of focus and I was pretty sure I was on my way to passing out again, but I fought it. I was afraid I wouldn't wake up.
"Doesn't she have a lovely scream?" Trieze asked the camera. If I had been in any shape to kick him, I would have, hard.
Trieze pulled the knife out of my side and stood up, absently wiping the blood off on my shirt. "Now, Maxwell, let me show you what I do to people who don't mind their own business." I heard the distinct click of a gun hammer being cocked. I broke out into a sweat. I was going to die. I tried to recite the lord's prayer but forgot most of it. Instead, I began a silent running apology to my parents, my sister, Sally, and anyone else I could think of. I apologized for dying, for biting my sister at her fifth birthday party and making her cry, for sneaking out of the house to go on dates with delinquent boys, for lying about my grades, for stealing Sally's pink ruffled blouse...
I heard the roar of the gun being fired and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that it wouldn't hurt to die.
There was a loud thunk of the bullet impacting on something solid and then silence. I wasn't dead. I opened my eyes and strained to look up at Treize. He was smirking at me again. He had shot the wall over my head; tiny bits of plaster drifted down and dusted my hair.
"Don't worry, Hilde. I will kill you, just not right now. I'd rather have you around to torture for just a bit longer." Beside him, Une had already turned off the camera. "But, as far as Maxwell knows, you're dead."
Une popped the tape out of the camera and handed it to him. "Time for a little fun." He said, pocketing it. He turned to leave and motioned for Une to follow. He paused at the doorway. "Don't die on me yet, darling. I've got plans for you." He said just before he slammed the door shut.
I fought the urge to either throw up or pass out. If I wanted to live, I had to stay conscious. First order of business was to get myself un-cuffed. I twisted my wrists back and forth, tugging on them until it hurt so much I had to stop. I had managed to rub them raw and I could feel trickles of blood on my wrists.
I stopped struggling and took a deep, cleansing Zen breath, like that crazy Indian guru to the stars was always harping about. It did help a little. Maybe all those celebrities weren't being gypped. I took a few more Zen breaths and experimented with folding my thumb into my palm until my hand was almost the same size as my wrists. If I could only make my hand a few inches smaller, then I would be able to slip it out. I bent my thumb at a very uncomfortable angle, shoving it more or less under my pinkie. The blood from my wrists acted as a lubricant and, with several very painful jerks, I managed to free my hand.
Holy cow. I was free. I stood up carefully, my legs almost unable to bear my weight. I leaned against the wall and took in my surroundings. I was in some sort of old, empty warehouse, a few dusty, unused boxes that had MORRIS MACHINERY, INC. stamped in big black letters on their sides spoke of my current jail's former capacity.
The only way out was through the door that Treize had exited about a half an hour earlier. There were several dusty windows, but they were high along the ceiling and pretty impossible for me to reach. I sighed and limped toward the door. Suddenly, I felt a wave of fear wash over me. This was too easy. It shouldn't be that easy to escape, no way. I've seen enough movies to know that there should be booby traps and gun-toting henchmen hiding in the shadows.
Either Trieze was screwing with me or he was the dumbest criminal on the colony. I managed to quell my fear and crept towards the door, listening for the sounds of booby traps being activated or the stealth footsteps of ninja assassins. Nothing. It was as silent as the grave. Maybe Treize was the dumbest criminal on the colony. I reached out, half expecting the find the door unlocked. I turned the knob and discovered...that the door was locked. Damn. Okay, he may not be an Einstein, but he wasn't entirely stupid, either.
I have absolutely no idea how to pick a lock. I was definitely too weak to try and kick the door down and unless I had some heretofore untapped Inspector Gadget abilities, I was not going to reach those windows. So, I did the only thing I could: I cursed. A lot. Then, I leaned my forehead against the door and began to cry. Yeah, I was crying. But dammit, I'm no action hero; I'm just a former corporate manager with a gun and too many bills to pay. I have no idea how long I stood there, feeling weak and helpless and completely sorry for myself.
I sniffled and suddenly, I heard footsteps and the distinct rattle of keys on a key ring. Someone was coming. I leaped away from the door like it was on fire and pressed myself against the wall on one side of it. I had a very small advantage: I was free and I knew they were coming. On the other hand, I was also bleeding heavily, in a lot of pain and a total wuss. Crap. Well, I was going to put my life in the hands of fate this one time. I said a small prayer begging the powers that be not to screw me over and then took another one of those deep Zen breaths.
The key clicked in the lock and the door swung open. Une stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the room beyond. She was carrying some gauze and a bottle of alcohol, presumably to fix me up. Whatever she was expecting to see when the door opened, it most probably wasn't my fist, which is what her eyes focused on as soon as they got used to the dimness.
I punched her hard in the face and felt the satisfying crunch of her nose breaking underneath my knuckles. I was angry and in pain, my fist was powered by adrenaline and rage. She stumbled back and hit the floor, the gauze and plastic bottle of alcohol bouncing on the cheap linoleum floor. The only sound she made was a surprised grunt as I hit her, after that, she was quiet.
As I stepped over her prone form, I remembered that people could choke to death on their own blood so I kicked her onto her side, but not gently. Her face was a mess, her nose was sort of squished and bent at the same time and an awful lot of blood was pooling on the floor. I felt a small twinge of sympathy for her. But only a small one. I definitely hadn't forgotten her looming over me and Trieze while she filmed his sadistic little valentine to Duo.
I stepped into what had obviously once been the office for Morris Machinery, Inc. All that was left now were two old, hulking desks and a dilapidated swivel chair. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling and cast a rather unflattering light on the warped faux wood paneling, peeling linoleum and cracked glass of the office.
I was very relieved to see that Trieze was nowhere around. Apparently, he had trusted Une to keep an eye on me. I almost smiled. You just can't find good help these days.
Une's purse sat on one of the desks and I made a beeline for it. I was still running on adrenaline and it was only a matter of time before it wore off and my body reminded me of all the abuse it had endured.
I upended her bag onto the desktop and rifled through the contents. Makeup, hairbrush, birth control pills and, miracle of miracles! A cell phone! I turned it on and dialed my number, hoping to find Duo still at my apartment. Maybe he hadn't seen the tape yet.
No answer at Chez Hilde. I tried his cell phone, but all I got was a machine asking me to leave a message. I hung up and dug through my pants pocket, wincing as I chafed my already sore wrist. Bingo! I dug out Heero's rumpled business card and dialed his cell number.
He picked up on the third ring with a terse, "Yuy."
"Heero, it's Hilde..." I began but he cut me off.
"Jesus Christ, you're alive!" He said with more emotion that I would have ever expected from him.
"Um, yes. I am." I replied stupidly.
"Where are you?" He nearly barked.
I looked around. "I'm not exactly sure, but it appears to be the former office and warehouse for something called Morris Machinery." I said, suddenly aware that my adrenaline had begun to seep out of my system. My side was beginning to throb with renewed vigor.
"I'll find it." He said. "Just stay where you are."
His voice was getting sort of hard to hear, a little fuzzy around the edges. Maybe Une's phone was dying? No, wait, her phone was also getting a little fuzzy around the edges. I was the one who was dying. Crap.
I heard him say something else, but I really couldn't make sense of it. My legs folded and I landed on my knees on the floor, but I didn't really feel the jolt. Actually, to tell you the truth, I really didn't feel much of anything at all.
Rated PG-13 For Cursing
I was having the most interesting dream involving Duo Maxwell and a set of handcuffs, when I was rudely interrupted by someone waving ammonia salts under my nose. The smell jerked me back into consciousness, and I discovered a few things:
1. Duo Maxwell, naked or otherwise was nowhere to be found
2. I was still wearing handcuffs, but not in the happy way I had been dreaming about
3. Treize Khushrenada is not a bad-looking guy, but he has creepy eyebrows.
I knew the last bit about Treize's eyebrows because he was hovering right in front of me, a smirk plastered on his patrician face.
"Good morning, Hilde." He said, oozing charm. However, since I was currently trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and nursing a massive headache, his charm rolled right off of me.
"What the hell is going on?" I managed to ask. My throat felt dry and scratchy and I could barely get the words out.
His grin went up a notch and he patted my cheek. "You and Maxwell are seriously getting on my nerves." He replied. I recoiled from his hand and that only seemed to amuse him more. He continued to stroke my cheek.
"I thought that perhaps I should send Maxwell a message." His caress turned into a stinging slap. My eyes watered with the pain, but I would not give him the satisfaction of crying. Instead, I glared at him.
He stepped back and feigned fear. "If looks could kill, Hilde, I'd be dead. Unfortunately, they don't and the only one ending up dead around here will be you." He turned and barked a command to someone who was out of my sight. A few moments later, the woman I recognized as Une, Relena and Cathy's waitress, came into my peripheral vision, a mini-cam in her hand.
"Hilde, why don't you smile for your boyfriend?" Trieze jerked my head up by my hair and laughed. "Look, Maxwell. Look good, because I guarantee this will be the last time you see her alive." He said for the camera.
"He's not my boyfriend, you dick!" I hissed, but Trieze ignored me.
Instead, he slapped me again and this time, I felt a small trickle of blood ooze from my bottom lip. I still wouldn't cry. No way. I come from a long line of people with more pride than common sense and I wasn't about to disgrace the family.
Treize frowned and let go of my hair. My head dropped down and I stared at him from under my sweaty bangs. He produced a knife from one of his pockets and crouched next to me again.
"I really think a scream or two would heighten the drama, Hilde." Treize said cheerfully, pressing the tip of the knife into my upper arm. I winced.
Treize sighed and withdrew the knife tip from my arm. "Let me hear you scream." He said quietly into my ear. I glared at him. He smiled. The knife came rushing towards me and embedded itself into my side. I couldn't be brave any more, my mouth opened and I screamed.
It hurt, oh god, it hurt. My entire left side felt like it was on fire. I bit my lip and tears dripped down my face, dropping to the floor to mix with my blood. My blood, pooling onto the filthy concrete floor. My eyes swam in and out of focus and I was pretty sure I was on my way to passing out again, but I fought it. I was afraid I wouldn't wake up.
"Doesn't she have a lovely scream?" Trieze asked the camera. If I had been in any shape to kick him, I would have, hard.
Trieze pulled the knife out of my side and stood up, absently wiping the blood off on my shirt. "Now, Maxwell, let me show you what I do to people who don't mind their own business." I heard the distinct click of a gun hammer being cocked. I broke out into a sweat. I was going to die. I tried to recite the lord's prayer but forgot most of it. Instead, I began a silent running apology to my parents, my sister, Sally, and anyone else I could think of. I apologized for dying, for biting my sister at her fifth birthday party and making her cry, for sneaking out of the house to go on dates with delinquent boys, for lying about my grades, for stealing Sally's pink ruffled blouse...
I heard the roar of the gun being fired and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that it wouldn't hurt to die.
There was a loud thunk of the bullet impacting on something solid and then silence. I wasn't dead. I opened my eyes and strained to look up at Treize. He was smirking at me again. He had shot the wall over my head; tiny bits of plaster drifted down and dusted my hair.
"Don't worry, Hilde. I will kill you, just not right now. I'd rather have you around to torture for just a bit longer." Beside him, Une had already turned off the camera. "But, as far as Maxwell knows, you're dead."
Une popped the tape out of the camera and handed it to him. "Time for a little fun." He said, pocketing it. He turned to leave and motioned for Une to follow. He paused at the doorway. "Don't die on me yet, darling. I've got plans for you." He said just before he slammed the door shut.
I fought the urge to either throw up or pass out. If I wanted to live, I had to stay conscious. First order of business was to get myself un-cuffed. I twisted my wrists back and forth, tugging on them until it hurt so much I had to stop. I had managed to rub them raw and I could feel trickles of blood on my wrists.
I stopped struggling and took a deep, cleansing Zen breath, like that crazy Indian guru to the stars was always harping about. It did help a little. Maybe all those celebrities weren't being gypped. I took a few more Zen breaths and experimented with folding my thumb into my palm until my hand was almost the same size as my wrists. If I could only make my hand a few inches smaller, then I would be able to slip it out. I bent my thumb at a very uncomfortable angle, shoving it more or less under my pinkie. The blood from my wrists acted as a lubricant and, with several very painful jerks, I managed to free my hand.
Holy cow. I was free. I stood up carefully, my legs almost unable to bear my weight. I leaned against the wall and took in my surroundings. I was in some sort of old, empty warehouse, a few dusty, unused boxes that had MORRIS MACHINERY, INC. stamped in big black letters on their sides spoke of my current jail's former capacity.
The only way out was through the door that Treize had exited about a half an hour earlier. There were several dusty windows, but they were high along the ceiling and pretty impossible for me to reach. I sighed and limped toward the door. Suddenly, I felt a wave of fear wash over me. This was too easy. It shouldn't be that easy to escape, no way. I've seen enough movies to know that there should be booby traps and gun-toting henchmen hiding in the shadows.
Either Trieze was screwing with me or he was the dumbest criminal on the colony. I managed to quell my fear and crept towards the door, listening for the sounds of booby traps being activated or the stealth footsteps of ninja assassins. Nothing. It was as silent as the grave. Maybe Treize was the dumbest criminal on the colony. I reached out, half expecting the find the door unlocked. I turned the knob and discovered...that the door was locked. Damn. Okay, he may not be an Einstein, but he wasn't entirely stupid, either.
I have absolutely no idea how to pick a lock. I was definitely too weak to try and kick the door down and unless I had some heretofore untapped Inspector Gadget abilities, I was not going to reach those windows. So, I did the only thing I could: I cursed. A lot. Then, I leaned my forehead against the door and began to cry. Yeah, I was crying. But dammit, I'm no action hero; I'm just a former corporate manager with a gun and too many bills to pay. I have no idea how long I stood there, feeling weak and helpless and completely sorry for myself.
I sniffled and suddenly, I heard footsteps and the distinct rattle of keys on a key ring. Someone was coming. I leaped away from the door like it was on fire and pressed myself against the wall on one side of it. I had a very small advantage: I was free and I knew they were coming. On the other hand, I was also bleeding heavily, in a lot of pain and a total wuss. Crap. Well, I was going to put my life in the hands of fate this one time. I said a small prayer begging the powers that be not to screw me over and then took another one of those deep Zen breaths.
The key clicked in the lock and the door swung open. Une stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the room beyond. She was carrying some gauze and a bottle of alcohol, presumably to fix me up. Whatever she was expecting to see when the door opened, it most probably wasn't my fist, which is what her eyes focused on as soon as they got used to the dimness.
I punched her hard in the face and felt the satisfying crunch of her nose breaking underneath my knuckles. I was angry and in pain, my fist was powered by adrenaline and rage. She stumbled back and hit the floor, the gauze and plastic bottle of alcohol bouncing on the cheap linoleum floor. The only sound she made was a surprised grunt as I hit her, after that, she was quiet.
As I stepped over her prone form, I remembered that people could choke to death on their own blood so I kicked her onto her side, but not gently. Her face was a mess, her nose was sort of squished and bent at the same time and an awful lot of blood was pooling on the floor. I felt a small twinge of sympathy for her. But only a small one. I definitely hadn't forgotten her looming over me and Trieze while she filmed his sadistic little valentine to Duo.
I stepped into what had obviously once been the office for Morris Machinery, Inc. All that was left now were two old, hulking desks and a dilapidated swivel chair. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling and cast a rather unflattering light on the warped faux wood paneling, peeling linoleum and cracked glass of the office.
I was very relieved to see that Trieze was nowhere around. Apparently, he had trusted Une to keep an eye on me. I almost smiled. You just can't find good help these days.
Une's purse sat on one of the desks and I made a beeline for it. I was still running on adrenaline and it was only a matter of time before it wore off and my body reminded me of all the abuse it had endured.
I upended her bag onto the desktop and rifled through the contents. Makeup, hairbrush, birth control pills and, miracle of miracles! A cell phone! I turned it on and dialed my number, hoping to find Duo still at my apartment. Maybe he hadn't seen the tape yet.
No answer at Chez Hilde. I tried his cell phone, but all I got was a machine asking me to leave a message. I hung up and dug through my pants pocket, wincing as I chafed my already sore wrist. Bingo! I dug out Heero's rumpled business card and dialed his cell number.
He picked up on the third ring with a terse, "Yuy."
"Heero, it's Hilde..." I began but he cut me off.
"Jesus Christ, you're alive!" He said with more emotion that I would have ever expected from him.
"Um, yes. I am." I replied stupidly.
"Where are you?" He nearly barked.
I looked around. "I'm not exactly sure, but it appears to be the former office and warehouse for something called Morris Machinery." I said, suddenly aware that my adrenaline had begun to seep out of my system. My side was beginning to throb with renewed vigor.
"I'll find it." He said. "Just stay where you are."
His voice was getting sort of hard to hear, a little fuzzy around the edges. Maybe Une's phone was dying? No, wait, her phone was also getting a little fuzzy around the edges. I was the one who was dying. Crap.
I heard him say something else, but I really couldn't make sense of it. My legs folded and I landed on my knees on the floor, but I didn't really feel the jolt. Actually, to tell you the truth, I really didn't feel much of anything at all.