Waking Up In Vegas
Chapter Thirty Two
Ashley waved everyone down. "I'll answer it," she chirped, practically bouncing out of the room. In her absence, the conversation resumed, mostly centering on Ali and Megan coming down to Wufei and Duo's house on the morrow.
Minutes later, Ashley returned a moment later, not quite bouncing. "Um, Yeah, Trowa? There's this brown haired lady here asking for you. Should I..."
"Brown haired ?" Trowa blinked. And then everyone turned to the door behind Ashley.
"Midii," Delana hissed, taking a step forward. Cathy was behind her in an instant, holding Delana in place. "Bitch," Cathy added. Duo and Justin leaped forward to place themselves between the two women and the woman in the door.
"Trowa," the brown haired girl in the doorway pracitcally begged. "I think I've given you enough time to stop this foolish pretending. You are *not* queer," she said.
Trowa was standing up straight, and Quatre was on his feet before anyone even noticed him shifting Meilan over to Wufei.
"You're not welcome here anymore," Alejandro said. "Please leave."
"Not until he speaks with me," Midii growled. "He loved *me*. Trowa, please. You have to remember what we shared?"
"I remember," Trowa nodded. "And it's nothing but a shadow of what I feel with Quatre. We did not fit together, Midii. Please. Go away."
"No," she returned. "I will not. There is no way you can think you love this little queer over me. You're sick if you think so."
No one saw him move. One moment Quatre was in front of the loveseat. The next, Midii was sprawled backwards against the door, clutching her now vivid red cheek. Quatre's hand was shaking with the rage inside him, and he didn't feel the stinging on his palm, where it connected with her cheekbone.
"Leave. No one's asking you anymore. Leave now, before someone kicks your ass out."
Midii gaped at him, but scrambled up and away, back out the door. Silence permeated the room as Trowa wrapped arms around Quatre from behind. Quatre's whole body was shaking.
"She's gone, baby," Trowa whispered in his ear. "Thank you, Quatre."
"You don't think it was too much," Quatre asked quietly.
Cathy laughed aloud as she caught that question. She was still standing, arms wrapped around Delana's shoulder, and Duo and Justin were in place between the girls and the door.
"Too much? Quatre... Me and Delana would not have let her leave here without a cat-fight."
Delana chuckled. "Too much? Not enough for the likes of her."
Midii felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she drove away from the Martinez residence. She hated this. She hated this acting. She pulled out her phone as she turned out of the subdivision.
"Yes?" came a velvet voice on the other end.
"It didn't work. I don't care anymore. Do whatever the hell you want. I don't give a damn. I'm not going to try and hurt Trowa anymore. I just want to go home."
"That's very sad I am to hear that, Midii," The voice replied. "But, alas, it doesn't matter at the moment."
"Hm? What?"
Sultry laughter drifted to her. "Quatre Winner, my dear. Quatre Winner is going to die tomorrow. And don't bother warning him, my dear girl. Because you have failed me. You know what that means?"
Midii closed her eyes, but opened them again when she felt her car swerve. Driving was not the best place to have this conversation.
"Leave my sister out of this."
"But my dear. That's not the way blackmail works. I'm sure the world is dying to know about your criminal record, Midii. About that very unfortunate blemish when you were fifteen. Do you know how different people look at you when they know you have blood on your hands? Even if it was deemed self defense. Oh, and your poor darling older sister. Tsk, tsk. What will that handsome fiance' of hers say when he finds out all about her stint in Angel Fields Psychiatric Ward?"
Midii's hand gripped the steering wheel tighter, until her knuckles were turning white.
"Do whatever you want about me," she said. "But leave Annika out of it! She's not a part of this!"
The voice laughed. "But, my dear. She's dating Treize Kushrenada... your precious Trowa's uncle. She's already part of this."
"No," Midii screamed, turning the phone off and tossing it until it fell apart across the passenger door.
She would not let Trowa *and* her sister's lives be ruined. She would find some way to stop this.
She could almost slam her head against the keyboard in frustration as she sat with her laptop on her knees, curled deep into her couch. What was going on? First, her brother had up and ran off to Redneckville, USA. Now... if Zechs were to be believed- and he was... there were many more people than usual looking into ZERO. That, more than anything, pissed her off.
She regretted the day she'd ever helped invent that stupid thing. Two years of work... and she wished she'd never done it. When her baby brother had extolled upon his idea of neural interfaces and being able to operate machines into dangerous territories without putting human lives at stake... she'd believed him. How many lives could be saved if a neural interface could be used to disarm bombs from safe distances? Or scout through mines to check for safety problems?
She'd never have guessed how it turned out. ZERO was much more than she'd ever thought it would be. ZERO was intelligent. Almost a living being in and of itself. A super-super-computer. Able to analyze a million different details and extrapolate potential outcomes in a matter of seconds. And all interconnected with the user's conscious.
She'd not argued much when the military had looked at the system to control a specialized missile system. That missile system could improve effectiveness and accuracy of their military. And thus save many accidental deaths. And thus... WING was born. The control unit that wirelessly linked the user with the ZERO system that controlled the missile system. The entire contraption and web was affectionately called Wing Zero by it's designers and users.
That was something she *had* argued *for*. Restriction of access. Quatre, of course, had been the first to try his hand at manipulating the system. It was a success, of sorts. But Quatre vowed never to try again. She herself had flat out refused to have anything to do with it beyond her help in creating the actual neural interface.
The military had appointed Allelujah Haptism to oversee the Wing Zero project, though the man never took a turn in the pilots seat. She respected Allelujah for many reasons. His dedication to his wife, Marie. His calm manner in dealing with things. The way he'd brought himself back from a rough childhood to his present glory. And of course, the way he doted upon his daughter.
It had taken her a long time to even come close to fathoming the real relationship there. Jezebel was not Allelujah's biological daughter... nor was she Marie's. She wasn't even really adopted. But she called Allelujah 'papa', and she called Marie 'mama'. She always called Heero her brother, too. In all technicalities, as far as anyone knew, Heero had had legal custody of her until she'd come of age.
The woman sighed. Why did all the relationships in the world have to be so complicated? She ran a hand through her slightly curly hair. It wasn't really blond. Not like Quatre's. But it wasn't really brown either. Somewhere between the two. She picked up the bottle of Evian and downed the rest of it in one gulp.
She hated not having her brother here. She missed him... so so much. The same way, she supposed, that Heero missed his sister. Except Jezebel was dead, and Quatre wasn't. Jezebel was dead because of her infernal contraption. Her doomsday machine, as it were. When it came down to it... it was her fault Jezebel was dead. And it all came back to her wishing she'd never created that damned machine.
*rap, rap, rap.*
She sighed again, getting up, setting the computer down on the coffee table and gliding through the apartment to the door. She peered through the peephole- one could never be too careful in NYC. She let out a small sound of relief... followed by one of puzzlement. She swung the door open.
"Ninnette?" she questioned.
"Iria, darling," the woman smiled. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight little bun, her hair slicked and professional and still somewhat sexy. A pair of glasses perched on her nose, as always. It gave her the air of a dangerous, sexy librarian. Iria had always laughed at her sister for trying to pull off such a look. But pull it off Ninnette did.
"Nette? What are you doing here?" There were few reasons this particular sister would be here. None of them very pleasant. Not really. Nette hated Iria. Nette hated Quatre. At first, Iria had dismissed it as jelousy. Nette was jelous of Quatre getting to play businessman and not her. But it had festered. Iria doubted Nette harboured any love for their brother.
"Can't a girl stop by to say 'hi' to her sister?" The woman asked, stepping into the apartment before she was invited. She was dressed in cool beige colors, topped off with a dark gray coat, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat.
"Not when said girl assisted to get said sister blacklisted from all hospitals in the continental US," Iria snapped.
Nette turned furious eyes to her. There. That was better. No more of the charade of acting all nice and sisterly. "I need your computer," the brown haired woman said imperiously.
"In your dreams," Iria replied just as imperiously.
Nette sighed. "I know you keep the files regarding Wing Zero's location on that computer." She waved a hand to the laptop Iria had just been using minutes before.
Iria raised and eyebrow. "So WEI is into war machines now? How.... fitting."
Nette glared... and raised her hand from her pocket. And cocked the pistol.
Iria's eyes widened. "Nette?"
Dark eyes glittered. "All I ever wanted was to be an equal," the woman said. "If father would have let Quatre go about his merry way and left the business to me, none of this would be happening. Even now, Father only gives me so much to do, when really I should be running the whole company. So now I'm going to have WEI and Sandrock. They're both mine, by right. Quatre doesn't deserve to have such... power... at his fingertips."
"Nette... you can't be serious!"
"But I am, sister. I'm going to take your precious 'ZERO'. And I'm going to turn it over to someone who's going to create World War III," she laughed. "Can you imagine? Your device is going to fuel a war that's going to take me to the top! With Sandrock supplying arms and munitions, and WEI taking over trying to get peace, I'll be playing both sides of the field. I'm going to end up tripling the profits for each company. By the time the war is over, I'm going to be the richest woman in the world!
"You're mad!" Iria hissed. She knew her sister was crazy... but this. She never expected this.
Nette laughed. "Why is it always the same things? The person about to die always accuses the villain of being mad, insane. I am not mad. Or insane. I know exactly what I'm doing. I know Father has to die. I know Quatre has to die. And I'd never really planned this... but since you refused every time I ever asked you about the ZERO... I guess you have to die, too. Goodbye, sister dearest."
The silencer on the gun did it's job. Noone in the upscale apartment building ever heard Iria Winner's death. Her sister merely stepped around the fallen body and snatched the laptop and charger from the table.
And she walked back out. If she felt any remorse over the death of a woman who shared her same DNA... she never showed it as she pulled the door back closed.
"Goodbye, Iria."