Title: Halloween Masquerade
Author: Avel
Summary: When darkness consumes two youths, will they accept it? Light and day will never be the same and nights of feverish bloodshed are just a bite away.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I make a profit from these works.
Pairings: 1x3x2, 5x4, and 6x13
The crackle of a fire illuminated bronze skinned gypsies, allowing shadows to dance across the cobblestone streets and the dark alleyways as figures continued to move to the rhythm of the flames and music. These figures moved smoothly to the lively and energetic tune of tambourines, piccolos, small flutes and drums. As the night air, cooled the sweat off their heated bodies, one figure slipped silently into the shadows. Vanishing without a word.
Classical music filtered through the air as plump old men and frail ladies descended from the steps of a Victorian style mansion. Its ivory decadence glowing pale in the blackened night, the surrounding garden taking on forms like a smudged pastel painting. Shadows and plants blending into nothingness, the sound of high-heeled shoes and expensive leather soles echoing on the hardened pathway. A few carriages lay in wait of drunken passengers and overly arrogant aristocrats. It was already reaching past one am, the kitchen in the back of the house, dark and empty; lay open.
A dark figure made his way past the open doors and into the dim lit hallway, where pictures framed in gold and silver tones gave a rustic feel to the maroon walls and the hardwood floor. Soundlessly creeping past the main ballroom where elegant notes of a piano drifted through the sounds of laughter and cheerful conversations. He slipped up the stairs weightlessly, stopping every now and then to pick up on nearing voices and certain creaks from the floorboard above his head or below.
It wasn't until he had reached the top of the stairs and had maneuvered around the second floor that he heard the distinct sound of low muffled voices coming from the room next door to the one he was now briskly scavenging through. It was a medium sized bedroom with a large bed in the middle backed up against the wall. Two wooden side tables rested on either side of the room, a mirror hung atop each one. It was a fairly plain room, consisting of dark mahogany and ivory sheets, but the highboy stationed next to the door was what drew his attention. A thin brow arching upward, inquisitive and expectant, as he drew open the small drawer. Lightly tracing his fingers across the surface of a light cloth, he continued to feel around for the object of his desire.
A small lump in the back of the drawer revealed a small silver key, snatching it up, he moved across the room to one of the mirrors. Emerald eyes glinted back at him as he gently removed it from the wall and rested it on the surface of the side table. There staring back at him was the safe box, attached in the wall, just waiting to be opened. He felt a small smirk cross his lips as he continued to place the small key in the lock, twisting it open with a sound of a click. Transfixed on the box, he slid it carefully out, flipping open the top, allowing his eyes to gaze in longingly.
Trowa felt the brief shock numb him as his eyes narrowed, there was nothing there. Turning he circled the room, silently fuming, though his face expressed nothing. How could there be nothing there? Was this just a distraction? He came to a halt in front of the bed, crouching low as his hand lifted the mattress. Feeling around, he had almost let out a frustrated sigh, when his fingers brushed against the smooth cool surface of a leather cloth. Sliding it past the sheets as he briefed through the contents inside. More than enough, he thought as he flipped through bricks of money. Grabbing the cloth bag he had stashed in his coat pocket, he began shoving the bricks in rapidly. Turning toward the side table he relocked the safe box, placing the mirror carefully back in place.
Walking back over to the dresser drawer, he slipped the key back in closing the drawer quietly before glancing across the room for a final time. He would have left had one of the voices grown louder and the sound of a door opening caused the boy to back away from the hallway. The closet would be the only logical place to hide, so as he slipped in amongst the coats closing the door albeit a bit hurriedly, he managed to hear another person enter the room. The sound of soft soled shoes heading toward the dresser made his breath hitch, ceasing to breathe as he listened to the awkward silence of the other occupant.
It took him a moment to realize that the other person was not moving; this didn't particularly help him to feel that getting out of this building would be easy. As the soft fabric of coats brushed across his cheek, he watched the shadow of the occupant move slowly toward him. Backing slightly he slipped to the wall closest to the door, so that the occupant wouldn't see him right away, also allowing his own coat to blend in with the surrounding clothes.
The door finally opened a path of light growing across the floor, widening at the far side of the closet. Not daring to breathe, he waited patiently for the person to leave. He watched as a hand reached past a couple of coats pushing them aside, before slowly retreating back into the room, closing the door as they left. Letting out a quiet puff of air, he slipped toward the door listening intently to see if the person really had left, or was residing in the room. Straining his ears for any noise, he deemed it safe to pull open the door a sliver. Nothing. The room was still lit rather dimly from the side lamps on either side of the bed; he took a chance and opened the door fully, as he stepped out of the closet.
He knew immediately that he had made the wrong move; the door to the room was still open. He registered the click of a gun a second later as he stopped; apparently the other person had been expecting him to make an appearance. He had conveniently placed himself near the side of the wall next to the door where he was hidden from peripheral vision. Much like he had done inside the closet. He inwardly smiled at the absurdity of being outwitted by his own move.
"I'm going to ask you to put the money down on the ground and take your coat off, once you've done this, you'll accompany me to the other room." A deep monotone resonated in the room, softly spoken yet it held enough force to back it up.
He didn't waste time in removing the coat, yet he held onto the bag, calculating the reactions of the man training a gun on him. There had to be a weakness, a moment's gap in which he could make a run for it.
"I told you to put the money on the floor." The voice repeated a bit gruffly. "Either you do as I say, or get shot."
Trowa bit back a smile; this certainly had not gone the way he had planned. He opened his hand to let the bag drop, but at the same time managed to duck down grab the bag, and make a hasty run for the door. Curious as to why the gun hadn't gone off by now, he took a sharp turn to move for the stairs, but decided against it at the last moment. It would be suicide to out maneuver a gun while running down the stairs; he'd never make it out. Instead he went into the room he had heard the man come out from. If he had to, he'd take a hostage.
Locking the door a bit rushed, he turned on the occupant in the room. A bit startled to find that the occupant was a boy around his age, tied to a chair.
"Oh look, I got a visitor." The boy sneered, violet eyes burning angrily at him.
"So tell me what do you plan on doing with me? If you try that stunt your friend pulled, then be aware I bite."
Staring awkwardly at the violet-eyed boy, he switched his tactics to surveying the room. Not a single window in sight, he thought with dismay. Turning back to look at the door, he felt a wave of panic surge through him. Managing to suppress it with sure will power, he took in his surroundings, the boy in the chair was stationed in the center of what looked to be an office, shelves of books were stacked against the three walls, a large desk residing in the left corner held a small lamp that was cascading light across the edge of the table and on the floor. He was trapped.
Focusing on the boy in the chair, he saw that indeed the boy was his own age, dressed in a white tunic, with grey pants. Obviously this was not a person of high class, the smudging against the boys narrow cheeks and the way the boy was carrying himself blew his cover immediately. Noticing that the boy was continuing to seethe at him, he turned back toward the door that still hadn't burst open with a fuming gentleman aiming a gun.
"And while you're here, I'll tell you that—"
"Will you be quiet?" He cut off the voice that had been rising with pure venom, how could they tie someone like this up without gagging him first, he thought irritably.
"I'll bloody holler if you don't let me go." The boy hissed.
"I ain't done nothing wrong." Violet eyes leveled him for a moment, before his eyes narrowed.
"You're not one them." He stated coolly.
"You're too tan." The voice lingered mockingly, "Like a gypsy."
Trowa stared at him emotionlessly before addressing the door, why wasn't anyone coming in after him?
"Looks like you found the loot." The boy remarked, "Let me guess, stone eye got to you." The boy winked at him, "Didn't even see him coming." The boy smiled knowingly. Watching as Trowa stared at him blankly.
"The only question I have is that why am I the only one in the chair, and why do you still have the cash?"
Trowa was about to ignore him when the boy let out a snide remark.
"He's got the key you know."
"It doesn't matter." Trowa stated calmly.
"Oh really? What do you plan on doing, walking out of here with this man's savings in tow?"
"Let's face it you're in the same boat as me, why don't you give up?"
"And wind up in a chair like you? I don't think so." He remarked softly as he began a search for a weapon. This truly was not getting him anywhere so he stood walking toward the door but faltered momentarily at the sound of the lock being tampered with.
"You two have quite the nerve to break into this house during a social gathering." The man from before stated smoothly as he entered the room.
Face to face, Trowa was a bit surprised to find that this man was a regular observer of his troops daily routines. Apparently the man recognized him as well, because in a bizarre twist, the man smiled.
"To think I didn't have to do anything and you're here in my home." He chuckled darkly.
Trowa's eyes narrowed slightly at the offhand comment.
"What does that mean?" the violet-eyed boy called from behind Trowa's shoulder.
"You two know each other?"
"You could say that." The dark haired man stated, focusing on Trowa.
"You can put the money down now."
Finding that there were no more options, he set the bag down, before standing quickly. There was a slim chance that the man would slip up.
"Most would have the both of you arrested, however it's by chance that the both of you showed up here." He glanced at the violet-eyed boy who had gone rigid.
"This was planned?" Trowa asked cautiously.
"The money was bait?" The other boy asked incredulously.
The man closed the door behind him and nodded nonchalantly.
"However I was only expecting one of you." He glanced at the other boy.
"Why?" Trowa asked unaffected by the curses flowing from the other boy's lips.
"I've been watching you both for sometime now, I think that the proposal I'm about to make, might interest you." Both boys felt a tremor of ice slide up their spines at the confession of being watched unknowingly.
"Watching?" the violet eyed boy spat.
"Observing." The man's cobalt eyes glistened, piercing the other occupants in the room. Those eyes weren't human; they gleamed with an unnatural force.
"So what? You live your life, watching us live ours?" Trowa watched violet eyes darkened dangerously as he growled out the remaining words.
"Is that what you call it? No, you don't know the meaning of the word; life."
"What do you mean?" Trowa breathed softly, watching his breath form in the chilling air. The room had become increasingly cold, the bitter sting gracing their mouths, nostrils, and eyes.
"My name is Heero Yuy, my proposition to the both of you is to join me in finding just what is the meaning of life. Why is it that people are so frightened of losing it, what makes it so appealing. You both are unsatisfied with your lives right now; there is no purpose, no plan. So why do you still cling to it? Do you honestly expect that by continuing on with this life it will bring you happiness, satisfaction, and success? Don't be naïve. I'm offering you something that up until now, you could only dream of. I'm offering you immortality, a way to reinvent yourself, to start over."
"Immortality?" Trowa asked skeptically.
"How the hell do you plan on obtaining that? You're insane." Chestnut hair was grabbed violently in a fluid motion. Sending the chair skidding back into the desk, the back of the American's head slammed downward on the wooden surface.
Startled Trowa took a step backward eyes widening at the speed of the motion, he grabbed the handle of the door, only to jerk his hand immediately back with a sharp hiss. The handle had burned him.
"You'll find that the door is no longer an option of escape." The cold smirk was evident in his voice, as Trowa turned to look at him.
"I was going to give you the option." Heero stared down into amethyst eyes that were staring at him in horror.
Duo felt himself tense as he saw the unnatural predatory gleam in his captor's hardened eyes. Not even able to make a sound as two fangs descended on his neck, brutally.
His body going impossibly rigid before limbs began flaying desperately in a vain attempt to throw off his attacker.
Trowa stood stock still, terror and dread mixing; overwhelming all coherent thought. This couldn't be happening. He felt his back hit the bookshelf as he watched the boy's limbs fall lifelessly against the chair. That was all he needed to send him in a sheer wave of desperation and panic. He began busting the door, throwing his body and weight in an attempt to throw the door off it's hinges. He swung around wildly staring wide-eyed at the man advancing toward him. Bracing himself for a fight he took a glance at the pale body tied to the chair blood smeared black in the dim light of the room and the shadows casting on the right side of the boy's body. Gulping slightly he felt a tremor run through his body, unwanted adrenaline coursing through his veins.
"I have to admit this was not my intention," A hand reached up to gently trace the outline of Trowa's face. Trembling at the touch, but accepting that he was about to die, Trowa could only stare back. Emerald eyes held in a strong gaze of cobalt blue, he felt his body begin to calm hypnotically. Eyes closing a bit dreamily as a pair of lips covered his own and all went black.
"Life is wasted on the living."
-Douglas Adams
A/N: I'm going to enjoy this story immensely. It actually took me by surprise, I hadn't been planning on outlining or even starting this idea until recently and in a matter of days I had accomplished the first chapter. Astonishing. I'm content with how this chapter turned out, and I can't wait to write the next chapter up. Remember to review before you leave.