Author's Note: If you haven't picked it up from the title of this chapter, then allow me to tell you that shit goes down today. This is the second longest chapter of this fic, the first being chapter 52, so it should give you all the suspense and excitement, yadda, yadda, yadda, that you're all addicted to. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing

Warning: language, shounen ai, violence, death

Confrontation for the Ages

"Are you ready for this?" was the question directed at Raberba, the asker of the question being none other than his brother Ezekiel. "This is a big thing you are about to do," the man said, a bit of his timidness that only showed up when Solomon was nearby squeaking its way into his voice.

The elder Winner smiled fondly at his brother. "You needn't worry about me," he answered. "What you did yesterday was probably more dangerous than what I'm about to do."

"But we don't know how Tsubarov is going to react once you break the news to him," Ezekiel protested. "Also, the boys will be getting out of school soon. What if Tsubarov catches sight of Dwaine and tries to do something desperate?"

"He already tried to do that when he hired Lowe to kill him," Raberba stated coolly. "Now that we have Lowe's confession, along with his agreement to testify in case Romafellor objects to this, there's nothing that Tsubarov can do to change my mind. Anyway, he's going to be at the mercy of Mr. Romafellor once this meeting is over, that is once you've faxed over my decision to Romafellor that is."

"As soon as Tsubarov arrives," Ezekiel agreed, though still unsure.

"Good," Raberba replied. "You know where to send him in once he arrives."

"Yeah, yeah," Ezekiel mumbled, sounding more like one of the boys than the adult that he was. Raberba only smiled at his brother's back in amusement as the younger Winner left to keep watch for Tsubarov's arrival.

He sat back in his chair and sighed. All he could do now was wait. Most peoples' hearts would have been beating faster in anxiety but not his. He was used to doing such things, after all, he was the head of WEI, one of the largest corporate firms in the world. He was used to crushing peoples' hopes and dreams, though he didn't like it, and one had to get used to it when one was in his position.

As for what was coming up, he was grateful for the fact that the mansion was no longer in threat of being blown up the second someone lit a match and that the methane had been aired out. Just the feeling of being on familiar turf was enough to make him feel secure. Tonight, he reflected, he would be able to sleep in his own bed again, hopefully.

Whether it had been an hour or a few minutes, he did not know but it did not matter the moment the door handle turned and the door opened to reveal none other than Tsubarov on the other side. Ezekiel wasn't with him, or at least anywhere in sight, so Raberba assumed that he was in the process of sending the fax to Romafellor. He didn't need to tell Tsubarov to close the door behind him as the large man had done it himself and was seating himself in a chair opposite to him.

"It's good to see you again," Tsubarov greeted with his gruff voice. "Shall we get pick up where we last left off?"

"About that," Raberba cut in, smiling inwardly as he caught sight of Tsubarov's small eyes twitching and quivering within their eye sockets. The man didn't seem to be able to mask his emotions very well, did he? It's a wonder how he gotten as far as he had. "I'm afraid something has…come up that has made me begin to reconsider this proposal that your company is offering."

He could see the tiny beads on sweat beginning to dot on Tsubarov's forehead. "I don't understand what you're saying," Tsubarov said.

"What I'm saying is that I know about your role in the murder of the Chang heir," Raberba stated coldly. "I know that it was an accident and that your real target was not that boy but another."

"How dare you—" Tsubarov began to say in indignation, only to be interrupted by Raberba as the man plowed ahead.

"I know everything, Tsubarov. I've heard it from the very man you hired to assassinate your own son, a Mr. Odin Lowe to be precise."

At the mention of Lowe's name, Tsubarov's mouth fell open in shock. Raberba could see the terror in the man's eyes, and all it did was to confirm to him what he already knew. Tsubarov seemed to realize his blunder and he began to attempt to salvage whatever he could, his mouth opening and closing spasmodically as he tried to speak.

"You know, I was told by your superior, Dermail, that you were one of the finest that Romafellor had to offer," he said conversationally. "Well, if you're the best, then I'd hate to see what the worst would be."

"Winner…you can't be serious?" Tsubarov managed to croak out. "You…you wouldn't dare pass up this once in a lifetime opportunity! You'd have to be…be insane!"

"Save it Tsubarov," Raberba said. "I am not about to enter a partnership with a company filled with as many immoral cretins and risk WEI's reputation abroad; I'd have to be, in your words, 'insane' to do such a thing."

"As if you're any better," Tsubarov sneered.

Raberba slammed his hands on his desk and rose up from his seat, glaring malevolently down at the man before him. "At least I don't callously go around trying to kill a child just because I don't want to take responsibility for my own actions. I am probably better than most if not all of the employees that work for Romafellor."

"You're soft," Tsubarov sneered.

"And you're in my home, now get out," Raberba snapped. "You can tell Mr. Romafellor that I am pulling out, that is if he hasn't gotten the fax already."

Tsubarov paled. "You…you didn't…?"

"I did," Raberba smirked at him.

This time it was Tsubarov who rose malevolently from his seat and Raberba had to admire that the man did have the imposing bit down. "Recant," Tsubarov hissed at him. "Do it; call Mr. Romafellor up now. Do it now or I'll…I'll…"

"You'll do what, per se?" he inquired challengingly.

Slowly, a sneer formed on Tsubarov's face, putting Raberba on his guard. "Do you love your son, Mr. Winner?"

It didn't matter that his desk was between himself and the man. It didn't matter that the man was bigger, larger, and possibly stronger than him. None of that mattered as he decked this pitiful excuse for a parasite, causing the man to stumbled back and fall onto the floor.

"Get out." There was nothing in his voice that suggested that he could be persuaded to change his mind. The dark look that had taken residence on Raberba's face was unlike anything that he had ever donned before. It was more than enough to freeze Tsubarov where he lay, still recovering from the blow he had received only seconds ago. "Get out of my home and never return here," he growled. "If you think you can threaten me and my family, you are dead wrong. I know people too, people who would do things for me for free, the same kind of things you would pay for. You think Lowe is the best in town? There are more efficient killers around here who aren't as expensive and they like me better than you or the firm you represent. Don't think for a second that I won't use them should you do anything to me or to my family. Now get out."

In record time, Tsubarov managed to scramble out of his office, Raberba tracking the man's every step until he was out of sight.

--

Tsubarov fled through the hallways, fleeing for the front door and escape. He had truly underestimated Winner. He had thought him to be too moral to not go as far as he said he would back there but listening to that uncharacteristic voice, any doubts he might've had were nonexistent.

In his mad dash, he tripped over his feet and went plummeting to the carpeted floor, laying still for but a moment as he sought to gain just a little bit of extra energy. The moment he got to his knees and lifted his head up, he found that his way was being blocked by two newcomers.

He stared at the two long haired teens before him, one registering in his mind as being one of the Winner spawn while the other was none other than the little runt himself, the bane of his existence since his conception.

That was when his vision turned red as his mind latched on to the thought pattern that that braided menace was responsible for this, for his downfall. But he wasn't going to go down, not yet, not alone.

With that, he launched himself at his son.

--

Running into his father back at the Winners' had been the last thing Duo had expected out of this day. Running into his father as the man looked like he was running for his life as if trying to escape the jowls of Hell itself was also something that he hadn't expected to see in his lifetime.

As the man caught sight of him, Duo froze like a deer in the headlights. Slowly, his father's frightened visage contorted into a mask of fury, the likes of which he had never seen from the man before. The facial expression stunned him into inactivity long enough so that when the man began to charge him, he was defenseless and unable to get out of the way in time before those meaty hands grasped hold of his neck.

Survival instincts kicking in, he immediately grabbed a hold of Tsubarov's arms to give himself some leverage as he continued to go backwards due to the man's momentum. He felt himself run into Solo but the normally insurmountable blond was stumbling back as well from the force that had run into him. But it wasn't over yet as his feet left the floor and he was slammed into the wall, the air in his lungs forced out of him from the impact.

"I'll see you six feet under yet boy!" Tsubarov snarled in his face, saliva flying from his mouth and onto Duo's face as the large hands proceeded in strangling him.

"Let him go!" he heard Solo cry as the blond ran to his defense but Tsubarov only freed one of his hands so that he could viciously backhand the blond, Solo's head snapping to a side as he was conquered from that one blow alone.

"So—" Duo managed to choke out in despair as he saw his friend sprawled out on his back, green eyes blinking dazedly, dispatched easily from Tsubarov's single blow.

"DUO!" he heard a tenor voice cry out, followed by rapidly approaching footsteps that his mind identified as belonging to Quatre.

Tsubarov didn't even take his eyes off the braided one as his free hand caught Quatre by the front of his neck. Using the strength that his powerful frame gave him, Tsubarov literally threw Quatre away, the blond flying through the air only to slam into Trowa who had just come on to the scene. The unibanged teen barely managed to catch the smaller blond but the force in which Quatre impacted him was enough to send him toppling backwards.

"If it wasn't for you," Tsubarov snarled in his face, "if it wasn't for…for that bitch who made you, I wouldn't have lost everything! Because of you…" With all the anger that the man could muster, he punched his fist into Duo's gut.

The blow, if anything, jumpstarted the braided teen's resistance, putting it into high gear. Duo's violet eyes flashed widely now with the suppressed rage and resentment that had been building up in him towards this man for years. Unable to keep it bottled in anymore, Duo put it all into his leg as he brought it up straight into Tsubarov's body, hitting the man straight where the sun didn't shine.

Tsubarov's eyes widened comically from the sharp pain emanating from his groin but hadn't released Duo from his choking hold yet. This sat just fine with the braided one as he kicked his leg back up into Tsubarov's groin once more and then again. With each kick, Tsubarov's arm jerked and lowered Duo closer to the floor and the moment the braided one felt his feet back on the carpet, he proceeded to pry his father's hand off his neck and shove him off him.

Taking a step away from the wall behind him, Duo spun his body in an all too familiar way, balancing on only one of his legs while the other snaked out through the air, seeking Tsubarov's face. Bowed down as he was and clutching at his injured manhood, Tsubarov's impressive height wouldn't be able to save him as Duo's roundhouse kick caught him square on his forehead.

Duo was mildly disappointed at that; he had wanted to get his father in the middle of his butt ugly face, where his nose was. But seeing the impression of his shoe on that clear expanse of skin was able to placate him just a bit.

With a hand clutching his groin protectively and the other hand covering his forehead, Tsubarov glared at the braided one from his one visible eye, seething at Duo's audacity to actually strike him. Duo, meanwhile, had a hand tenderly protecting his reddened throat, the other appendage fisted tightly and he held his balance on that one leg, his other limb poised and ready to strike out again. The two blood relatives held their ground, glaring at each other in invisible combat.

"What in Hell is going on here?!" a thunderous voice suddenly boomed.

Startled, both combatants broke off their glares, each one looking towards the source of the voice only to find Raberba Winner there in all his imposing glory. His eyes widening in fear, Tsubarov scrambled to his feet and forced his way down the hallway, his heavy footsteps barely missing those still prone on the floor.

The moment his father was out of sight, Duo's tense body relaxed and he nearly collapsed as he let himself descend to the floor. With the immediate threat gone, he had no reason to be ready to fight. Of course, he did tense up a bit when he felt an arm wrap around him and pull him back into a source of molten heat but it was a welcome thing as he recognized the feel of Solo's body pressing up against his back. Without looking up, he felt Mr. Winner pass by him, heading towards Quatre to see if he was all right. Hey, blood before association always took precedence.

"You took your sweet time," Duo mumbled as he fully allowed himself to go limp. "Look after me, my ass…"

"Woulda come sooner but your old man sure can hit hard," Solo mumbled back, he face pressed into his chestnut hair. "They weren't kidding when they said I was out of my league."

"Yeah," Duo agreed, "and I had to be the one to kick his ass. Now what do you think about me practicing?"

"You ain't gonna let this one go, are ya?"

"Damn straight," Duo confirmed, a slight smile on his face.

--

Tsubarov couldn't have gotten out of there any faster as he stumbled to his limo, giving his driver no time to get out and open the door for him like he usually did. For once, he did it himself and threw himself into the automobile, all the while shouting "Drive!"

His moron of a driver actually obeyed him for once and was already peeling out of the driveway as if he couldn't get out of there any faster. Tsubarov growled to himself as the full effects of his son's blows finally caught up with him. Without any adrenaline giving him the extra boost in strength, he could feel the pain throbbing from his nether regions. He could swear it, that brat made it to where he couldn't have any children from now on. He'd have to get that checked out first, as soon as he got home—

His eyes snapped open, widening to their fullest extent. Shit, he couldn't go home! Mr. Romafellor knew about Winner's withdrawal; that man was going to be after his blood for this, if not his life. He needed to get out of there, disappear off the face of the earth.

But he couldn't just leave all the things that he had spent his whole life trying to get a hold of. No, he would stop off at his home first, pack a few things, then get the hell out of Dodge.

"Driver! Take me home!" he ordered, with no little pride as his voice wasn't high pitched as another male would be if they had gotten hit in the balls repeatedly.

However, as soon as he said that, he felt the limo come to a stop, quite roughly he might add. Sitting up straighter, he glanced out of the tinted windows but did not see his lavish home but wilderness and trees all about.

What was going…?

Suddenly, the door next to him opened and the next thing he knew, a gun barrel was pressing up against his chin. The eyes clouded with fear and snapped around wildly before settling on his would-be assailant.

A blank look was the only thing that stared back at him as the trigger was pulled, the bullet ripping through his head and into his brain.

--

The driver put the gun into the dead man's limp hand after checking for a pulse, becoming satisfied when he found none and ignoring the mess of blood that not only was splattered all over the inside of the limo but on him as well. His hands were covered with black gloves and he was careful in using them to shut the car door, fulfilling the effect that his latest victim had committed suicide.

Taking careful steps so as not to leave any, if at all, footprints behind, the driver took off his gloves and shoved them into a pocket, pulling out a cell phone simultaneously.

Heading to a parked car a whiles away, Odin Lowe allowed himself a smirk at a job well done, awaiting an answer from his latest client as he heard the continuous ringing noise from his phone.

--

"You have done an utmost splendid job. Yes, yes, the rest of your money has been deposited into the account. A pleasure doing business with you again, Mr. Lowe."

Dermail stood stiffly before the relaxed form of his superior, Mr. Romafellor, as the ruthless businessman received confirmation that Dmitri Tsubarov was dead. It was almost fascinating in a morbid kind of way how calmly and buoyant Mr. Romafellor was acting as he discussed killing a man over the phone.

Hanging up the appliance once his business was concluded, Mr. Romafellor leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes studying Dermail as if he were some sort of insect that he was about to either dissect or put into an insect collection. Dermail could feel himself sweating bullets, all but confident that Mr. Romafellor was going to have him killed next.

"How long have we known each other, Durban?" Mr. Romafellor finally spoke, the tone of his voice light, reminiscent, yet keeping that soft tone of his together.

"Decades," Dermail answered, swallowing.

Mr. Romafellor said nothing as he allowed the silence to thicken between himself and Dermail. Finally, he spoke, "We have known each other for quite sometime," agreeing with Dermail's answer. "In fact, I think we go all the way back to the founding of the Romafellor Corporation. You and I both have seen many things, watched as the company has grown and shrunk through the years. Many deals and proposals have gone our way and many others have not."

All of this was true and Dermail was beginning to wonder where this was all going.

"That is why," Mr. Romafellor paused, taking the time to look him straight in the eye before continuing, "other than docking your pay by half, I am not going to have you dispatched over this marvelous failure. That, and only that, is what's saving you this time. Next time, though, I may not be as lenient as I am now, history or no. Do you understand me?"

Dermail nodded, hoping that he didn't appear too eager. So what if he would not be paid as much as before? As least he still had his life! The same could not be said for Tsubarov.

"On another note," Mr. Romafellor continued, "Tsubarov's son might try and contest his father's estate. As much as it…irks me, we'll let him have it. No need to have anymore bad publicity over this and it might help us get more…clients in. It's not as if we really need that wretched man's money anyway."

With a wave of his hand, Mr. Romafellor dismissed him and Dermail took the release gratefully, turning to leave his superior's office.

"Oh, and one more thing Durban."

Dermail froze, his hand just inches away from the doorknob. Slowly, he turned to face Mr. Romafellor again.

"I know that you hand picked Tsubarov when he was hired," Mr. Romafellor stated. "I definitely know that you also hand picked him to oversee the proposal. Next time you do something like this, not only will I cut them off, I will cut you off. Now get out of my sight."

Dismissal issued, Dermail took it and fled from Mr. Romafellor's office.