Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing

Warning: language, shounen ai

The Mettle of Ezekiel Winner

Despite yesterday's tragedy, school continued on as it always did.

There was a mentioning of Wufei's "accident" as it was being called in the morning announcements, followed by an assembly in the gym where the principal himself led a memorial service in honor of the deceased before finishing by announcing that today would only be a half-day.

That was perhaps that only thing good that came out of this and even that wasn't much.

"You know," Duo finally spoke during the last period for the day (lunch), "I never thought I'd find myself saying this but I kinda miss him."

"Wufei?" Quatre asked aloud. Duo only nodded his head in confirmation but said nothing else.

Solo frowned. "But didn't that ass…guy hate your guts to the point that he tried to isolate you from the rest of the school?"

"It's one thing if it was at graduation and it would be the last day I would have to look at him," Duo answered solemnly. "It's a whole other thing when he was blown to pieces by a bomb meant for you."

"Nobody knows if a bomb was even involved," Solo stated exasperatedly.

"You think father dearest is looking to get caught?" Duo retorted. "You don't know him like I do, nor do you know anything about the company he works for. They've killed so many people but no charges were ever brought up and no suspects even pinned. Plus, they usually hire hired killers to do their dirty work so they don't have to."

"You seem to know a lot about this," Trowa pointed out. "Is it because your father tried to do something like this before?"

"I thought I already told you that. He's tried many times. It's always circumstantial, you know? You have to put together the facts first before anything else."

"So, you're saying that you would know what a bomb looked like if it was mailed to you?" Solo asked pointedly.

"Yeah, I would," Duo said.

"Even if it was all wrapped up in brown paper and had a stamp on it?"

"You bet your ass I would."

"Now you're just over exaggerating yourself," Solo quipped with a small grin.

"I could so," Duo pouted.

"Could? So it's not can?" Trowa picked up, catching Solo's wink and returning his own.

"Whose side are you on?" Duo questioned, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the unibanged teen.

"Only the winning one," Trowa shrugged.

"Now that's not right," Quatre protested. "You should at least let him think he could."

"I hate all of you," Duo grunted and let his head fall to the table, his face impacting the smooth surface.

--

Raberba picked up his phone the moment the shrill ringing screamed from it. "Who's speaking?" he greeted as his eyes darted from left to right as he read just another piece of paper that was part of a much larger stack of papers, all of them having some sort of impact on WEI.

"I found something out," came the voice of his younger brother. Ezekiel hadn't been in the office all day, instead focusing all his energies on finding out if Romafellor had had anything to do with the explosion at the Chang Estate.

Dropping everything, Raberba focused all of his undivided attention on this one single phone call. "What did you find?" he demanded.

"One of my contacts found something, at least something a bit suspicious," Ezekiel told him. "I don't have all the information yet but it seems like a solid lead thus far. I'm going to go check it out myself and see what I can get out of it."

"And what exactly are you investigating," Raberba asked, frowning.

"A…close friend hacked into a database of one of the banks in town, found some sort of transaction that occurred between one Tsubarov to a private account, one that he does not own but someone else does. I have an address and since I was close by, I was going to go check it out."

"I hope you thought this one through, Ezekiel," Raberba said dryly. "I don't want you to get hurt over this."

"I'll be careful. Tell you what, if I don't call you in thirty minutes, contact the police and send them to 5112 Morrison Boulevard, apartment 9."

Raberba's frown increased. That address sounded familiar, something that he had heard in the past couple weeks or so. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Nevertheless, he pushed it out of his mind. "Alright, just don't get in over your head. I'm starting your time…now."

"I'll talk to you in thirty or less."

With that, Raberba's brother hung up, the dial tone blaring into his ear.

--

Ezekiel took a deep breath as he got out of his car. He looked around, observing the apartment complex in front of him. The doors to each apartment were external, each one with some sort of decoration except for one which had the signs of a new tenant moving in. His mind latched on to the trivial fact that it was on the second story of the building, seven doors down from the paint-peeling stairs.

If he had known that the building he was looking at was the very same apartment complex that Duo had stayed in just before moving into his brother's, he would have smirked at the irony of it.

However, it was on the ground floor that he was focused on as the apartment he was searching for was located there. Even though the owner of this particular apartment had an object hanging from his door, Ezekiel noticed that it was gaudy, something that one would find at a hobby store. It spoke volumes to the man, telling of a little bit of the individual within. The person in there only bought the decoration to blend in with his surroundings and not stick out like the one door on the second story.

It was in moments like these, Ezekiel mused, that he regretted not following his childhood dream and becoming a detective or private eye. Instead, he ended up working as head of the electronics branch of WEI, a position generously given to him by his older brother. As a child, he had always been fascinated with and loved reading about true crime stories and watching police shows on the television. Sherlock Holmes had been his hero and he had always wanted to grow up to be just like him.

But that was neither here nor there. From what he knew, or had been told from his hacker friends that he still kept in touch with, the man on the other side of this door was incredibly dangerous. He could only hope that if worse came to worse, he would still be alive by the time help arrived. If not, then hopefully his death would be quick and painless.

He knocked heavily on the door and stood back, waiting for the occupant to come to the door and greet him. Well, this was it, the moment of truth. There was no going back now. Had he updated his will lately? Hopefully he had; he didn't want Solomon to not get what was rightfully his…

The door in front of him opened up, without even the hinges squeaking, abruptly and Ezekiel was jerked out of his inner musings as he came face to face with an expression so neutral that he was jealous of the man who possessed it.

"Who are you and what do you want?" the man before him demanded. The man's tone was incredibly bland and there were no emotions in it to give Ezekiel a clue as to how to respond. However, what he did know was who this man was and he knew that this man also knew who he was as well.

"Odin!" he greeted goodheartedly. "Long time no see!"

Odin blinked owlishly at him, confusion making its presence known. "Do I know you?" he asked.

"Don't you remember?" Ezekiel chirped. "High school? We graduated in the same class?"

Odin just stared at him blankly.

"It's me!" Ezekiel exclaimed. "Ezekiel!"

"Ezekiel?" Odin repeated.

"Winner," he added on and became pleased as a look of recognition dawned on Odin's face. That expression soon soured into that blank look again.

"What do you want?" Odin asked, repeating himself from earlier.

"May I come in?" Ezekiel asked instead, not bothering to wait for Odin's answer and shoving his way in. He took in the Spartan quarters, noticing the lack of anything other than the essential furniture and technology that a person needed in this day and age.

"What do you want?" he heard Odin nearly snarl from behind him.

Looking back at the man and giving him a hurt expression, he asked, "Do I really need a reason to visit a friend from high school?"

Odin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't recall us ever socializing before," the man deadpanned. "Now that's you've visited, leave. Now."

"Not so fast," Ezekiel said. "I have something to discuss with you first."

Odin's fingers twitched spasmodically, as if he was restraining himself from attacking the other. As his mouth opened to retort, Ezekiel interrupted him.

"It has to do with the incident at the Chang Estate and an individual named Dmitri Tsubarov."

Odin's mouth shut with an audible click. Ezekiel managed to keep himself from grinning in success but he couldn't stop himself from thinking Bingo. He had caught that flash of indignation at the mention of the Chang Estate but the flash of alarm that followed it the moment he said Tsubarov's name was all he needed to know that Odin knew something. Like the businessman that he was, he pounced the moment Odin tried to deny it.

"I don't know what you're—"

"Cut the crap, Odin," he cut in. "I know you're involved and let me tell you, my brother knows it too. So why don't you come clean and tell me all that you know?"

Crossing his arms defensively over his chest, Odin growled, "Why should I?" A sneer grew on his face as the killer continued, "I could just kill you right now and not have to worry about you anymore. It's a client confidentiality thing."

Ezekiel had expected this. He was only wondering why it had taken so long to get to this point. Either Odin was foolish, which he doubted, or he was trying not to do anything for fear that he could loose his lucrative business practice. Odin was no idiot, not in high school and certainly not now, especially since he was now a cold-blooded killer.

"How much is Tsubarov paying you?" he demanded as Odin slowly began to back him further into his apartment, stalking him like a feline predator. "I'll pay you quadruple what he's paying you for your cooperation and information."

At that, Odin paused. If there was one thing that could make a man like this hesitate, it was money, pure and simple. Fortunately for Ezekiel, he had a lot of money to use.

"Trust me, I'm good for it," Ezekiel told him, letting out a smirk. "No matter how much it is, I can pay you whatever price it is."

He could see the internal struggle through Odin's eyes and from the looks of it, the man greed was winning out.

It was only a matter of time until…

--

Odin sighed as he reentered his apartment, locking the door behind him.

It had been a tough decision, the kind that he hadn't struggle with before in a long time, not since his gawky teenage years to be precise.

Now, you're probably wondering which one he chose: kill Ezekiel Winner or take the money. It was actually simpler than one might think. It was one of those times where he was grateful for his pragmatic side.

He took the money.

Yeah, he ratted out his client in exchange for a hefty sum, one in which he had demanded full payment first before he squealed. Ezekiel had responded by calling the bank and ordering that his sum be ready for pick up the moment he got there. And now, all that cash was in a briefcase that was currently sitting innocently on his dining table.

But he got more out of this than he had thought he would. It was from Ezekiel that he learned that he hadn't taken into account external third parties that could have interfered in his work. Lack of information had been the reason why his bomb ended up detonating at an entirely different location than where it should have gone off. Damn that Tsubarov, not giving him anymore details than his target's name and where he went to school…

He paused as he heard his cell phone go off in his pocket. It was a hesitation that only lasted a second but he was able to go back into full professional mode and pick up after the second ring.

"Lowe speaking," he stated.

A client was a client, after all. Who was he to deny his services to those he knew could afford him?