Playing Stupid
Chapter 11: One if by Land, Two if by Bee
Zechs had been called in from the Corsica base to help deal with the braided menace that had reportedly taken up inhabitance in the overhead ventilation system. Despite a base-wide sweep, the skinny little twerp could hide like nobody's business. Hours were spent combing the halls and vents to hopefully catch the annoyance before his next plan could be set into action.
Unfortunately, the latest prank resulted in the base smelling like one gigantic rotten egg fart, much to the chagrin of the base's personnel.
The ventilation system had been fixed quickly since said incidence and was pumping in fresh air as if life depended on it. Thankfully, it was a cool summer day outside and the air being pumped in at frantic speeds was fragrant and pleasant. Anything smelled better than a base-wide rotten egg wind.
With his office finally smelling relatively free of odors, Zechs had just began filing through the base's incident reports – of which there were almost a dozen – when something caught his ear.
A patter of feet, like some one was running through the halls barefoot, caused him to look up in curiosity, abandoning his review of the base report. He raised an eyebrow when a certain braided menace fled past his open office door, flailing about as if trying to wave off a swarm of insects.
Zechs frowned. Knowing Duo Maxwell and the stunts he had already pulled on the base, the display was most likely a ruse to lure him from the relative safety of his office. He'd be forced to step out into the open halls where the next prank awaited.
This time, he'd get the better of the teenaged pilot. He was sure of it.
Seconds later, the patter of bare feet brought Duo Maxwell back before his office door, the American pausing in his flailing momentarily to swing his arms wildly in circles at something unforeseen down the hallway before running off again.
Zechs wasn't falling for the Yankee's current prank.
Overhead, the ventilation system was blowing a nice mixture of cool, fresh air into the windowless office. Zechs thought momentarily about getting up to close his office door, ignoring the prankster altogether, but that also might trigger the next bizarre trap. Instead, he was content to sit back and listen to the soft hum of the air conditioning.
Minutes past and Zechs thought he should have seen some sign of the braided menace by now. Things were quiet, save for the droning hum coming from the ventilation overhead.
A bit too quiet.
And since when did the ventilation system hum?
Blue eyes went wide in realization. The hum was getting louder.
Something buzzed by his ear, Zechs swatting at the side of his face at, to his utter surprise, what turned out to be a bee. A further sweep of the office found a few bees trickling in from the ventilation overhead, the hum of a swarm getting closer and closer.
"You have got to be joking." With the ventilation system set to frantically pump in outside air to blow out the sulfur smell, they had left themselves wide open for yet another attack by the air system.
Bees began to pour from the overhead air vent, Zechs giving in and hurrying out of his office, slamming the door closed behind him, hoping to lock out the swarm of irate honey factories.
The halls were beginning to fill with others ousted from their offices by the yellow insects. And much to their dismay, bees were also swarming into the halls from open vents in the halls and spaces under office doors.
Zechs sighed lightly. "Everyone, converge in the Mobile Suit bay," he began, given that whatever was left of the Mobile Doll's defense program had not been reprogrammed – again - to take some sick part in this prank. He wouldn't put it past the crazy pilot to program the giant mechas all to be bee exterminators. OZ engineers were still making repairs to the bay from the Chicken Dance incident that had resulted in a Mobile Suit mosh pit.
The quickly crowding halls full of flailing personnel were just beginning to migrate to the bays when the overhead sprinklers went off.
Zechs was not amused. His long, golden locks were plastered instantly to his face, hair dripping with a surprisingly fragrant liquid.
An eyebrow twitched as he stuck out his tongue. Sweet. Woody. "Honey," he groaned. It was watered down so that the golden substance could flow through the pipes, but it was honey, alright.
Bees began to swarm despite the indoor rain storm, screams of surprise and apparent bee stings beginning to erupt all over the base.
A stray bee landed on Zech's nose. The blonde's reaction time was far to slow…
A mad giggle ran through the halls as a trail of candy wrappers marked the exodus of Shinigami, the braided god ducking into a storage closet, stuffing a towel under the door to seal the room. There were no sprinklers installed in the closet, but there was a healthy supply of moldy-smelling mops and cleaning supplies.
Shinigami pressed an ear to the door a moment, listening to the mass chaos that was surely well underway outside. He could hear frantic footsteps rushing past the closet door, could hear a few of the OZ soldiers barking hasty orders, and he swore he heard the distinct hiss of bug spray.
Good one, Duo congratulated from their mind. I would have never thought of pumping honey into the overhead sprinklers.
Naturally. Shinigami pushed away from the door, being rewarded with a bonk on the head as he displaced a random broom. Your turn.
Duo paused a moment. We need a lighter of some sorts. And grab the air freshener.
Ah. You must be running out of ideas if you're resorting to fire again.
Shut up. Just grab the air fresheners.
Shinigami shrugged, turning and rummaging through the storage closet. A few cans of aerosol air fresheners were soon being tucked under his arm, the god also managing to find a pilot light igniter. Care to clue me in?
Duo chuckled. Aerosol air freshener plus cigarette lighter equals floral-scented flamethrower!
Base wide, personnel had managed to quickly disable the sprinkler system which was half the latest prank. Granted, everyone knew that diabling a fire protection system would, of course, put them at risk for an attack by fire. But Zechs had managed to convince everyone that Duo Maxwell was in this for the shits and giggles and not to cause mass injury or death.
Of course, convincing a few hundred military officers that an apparently un-killable Gundam pilot who called himself The God of Death was just a harmless prankster, was less than easy.
Zechs was calmly returning to his office after convincing the base personnel of their safety, pausing just outside the closed office door, a bee sting slowly building to hilarious proportions on the end of his nose.
It took a great deal of courage for him to reach out for the door handle and give it a turn. So far, the coast was clear.
Taking a deep breath, Zechs flung open the door and dove for cover into the hall way. But much to his paranoid precautions, only a stray bee meandered busily from the office.
With an annoyed sigh, Zechs pushed himself back to his feet, cautiously peaking around the door frame to make a quick sweep of his office. And again, much to his near disappointment, not so much as a pencil was out of place.
Cautious feet lead him into the office, checking first behind the door for stray braided lunatics, then behind the coat rack, under his desk. He was just about to settle into his large office chair when he noticed something quite out of place on the black leather seat.
A whoopee cushion. It claimed verily upon its red rubber surface to be 'the butt of all jokes.'
A blonde eyebrow twitched in annoyance and the party gag was slapped off the chair to land in a defeated flup on the floor. And with a great boneless plop, he let himself into the office chair…
And soon found himself dumped on the floor in a sprawl of limbs as the large chair seemed to disintegrate underneath him. It didn't take a genius to determine that every nut and bolt had been painstakingly removed from his favorite chair and stacked so as to crumble upon any type of load.
The Lightning Count hauled himself to his feet and stormed out of his office, slamming the door shut behind him. Duo Maxwell was making fun of him. And no one made fun of Zechs Marquise and lived to bear children.
Absently, he scratched the bee sting on the end of his nose
Apparently, Treize was no more impressed at the American pilot's switch in humor as Zechs met up with the irked General.
"Whoopee cushion?" he asked.
"Rubber chicken," the other corrected with a grumble.
Together, the two strode in silence down the hall and around a corner, coming to a stop outside the door to one of the Mobile Suit bay control towers.
Treize gave the other a sideways glance. "I want Duo Maxwell off my base. I don't care if we have to beg. He leaves. Now."
"Agreed." Zechs had only been on the base a little less than 48 hours and had already fallen victim to three of the Gundam pilot's twisted pranks, the latest evident by the enormous bee sting on the tip of his sniffer.
Treize turned the handle to the tower room and opened the door. Foolishly, he did not bother to check for any special modifications from a certain braided psycho.
Waiting for them on the other side of the door, Duo Maxwell, toothy grin spreading ear to ear, awaited their arrival with a can of air freshener and a pilot lighter.
Eyes going wide, both officers hit the deck as the home made flame thrower burst to life, a flower-scented inferno blowing by overhead, singeing their pants.
"Surrender yet?" the American giggled, twirling the lighter about his finger before pocketing it in an ornery version of a bad Clint Eastwood western.
"Fine! Fine!" Treize wailed from the floor. "We surrender! Just leave!"
Shinigami snorted and sighed as if he was bored. "That's it? No cursing? No fighting? I must say, I'm kinda disappointed."
Treize righted himself and rose to his feet, shaking out a flame that still burned on the laces of his boots. "Get out."
"No lovely parting gifts?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Take whatever you want and leave."
Duo shrugged and sighed again. "What ever I want?"
Treize had to clench a fist to keep from clocking the teen in the jaw. But his display earlier of apparently being able to bounce back from a point-blank bullet to the head had taught Treize that discretion was the better part of valor. "Whatever you want."
"Fine. I want OZ off this base and out of the country."
Treize actually fumbled for words. He expected to hand over half the Mobile Doll fleet, or relinquish the last ten years in top secret experimental weaponry. But to completely vacate?
"I can hop back in the air ducts if that's too much to ask?"
"No!" both officers yelled in unison.
Shinigami grinned an ornery grin and crossed his arms over his chest.
To be continued… one more chapter to go!