Disclaimer: I don't own a thing (as sad as that realization is), except for the words I've written.
Warnings: Rated for adult language (Duo's got quite a surly mouth and mind), some violence, and mild adult themes.
A/N: Well, my hiatus is finally coming to a close, still no general promises on quick updates, but I am back! Thank you for your continued support with reviews, favs, and follows, it's much appreciated. Hopefully this chapter will make up for the last few update-less weeks. Leave a review to let me know if it does! Also, I may have gotten carried away with the clothing and appearance descriptions in this chapter. So sue me, I want the boys to look a little sexy. Enjoy.
Maxwell
Chapter 16: It's A Livin' Thing, It's A Terrible Thing To Lose
It's A Living Thing - Electric Light Orchestra
The man in a dark blue suit sitting in his car dialed his phone with rather bored fingers.
"They appear to have received the message. They're up and moving at least. Haven't left the hotel yet." He spoke the words in a monotone as if to portray how little he cared about the situation he was currently reporting on or else just how tired he was seeing as how it was the middle of the night. But it was a job, wasn't it? Better paying than the one he currently had at that.
"Do they suspect?" his boss inquired.
He shrugged unnecessarily. "No way of knowing that."
"Gut feeling?"
"Yes, I'd say they're getting warmer at least."
"Alright. It's time to make our first move."
"The message originated on L2-V08744." Heero frowned as his fingers flew across the laptop's keyboard, the screen causing his eyes to glow a lighter blue than usual. "Specifically a place called Vingt Et Un."
Quatre's lips turned down in a matching scowl. He looked down at the files sitting on the table before them. "It's beginning to make sense. According to my research Menta Rolland is employed there, so our earlier plans were somewhat on the mark."
Trowa crossed his arms, leaning backwards on the couch. "We can only hope."
"Vingt Et Un?" Duo scowled, swallowing uneasily and trying to hold back the memories of his home colony.
"Twenty-one," Heero translated, still not looking up from his screen.
Duo turned his eyes to Quatre, his brows raising, searching for a better answer.
"It's a...hotel," the petite man responded, breaking eye contact. Somehow Duo felt the man was being less than truthful with him, but he decided not to press it at the moment. Too many other fucking things were attacking his subconscious at the moment.
"How could there be another scientist without any of us knowing about it?" The previously mentioned subconscious attacks were now bubbling so close to the surface he couldn't help but letting that particular question run free from his mouth. He never was much for using his filter. Now Duo could feel his body tensing, the realization that some of their questions might finally be answered. But shit, this was not what he had been expecting.
"There was a time where none of us knew there were even five scientists other than our own mentors. It makes sense what with Preventer's 'DNA replication' theory. Clearly nothing's impossible," Wufei answered, not making eye contact and scowling blankly down at the coffee table before him.
"So, to the beautiful L2 sector then?" Duo said with a harsh, sardonic laugh.
Brows furrowing, Quatre responded, "When was the last time you've been to L2, Duo?"
He winced briefly and then gave a derisive snort. "It's been awhile. I'm not that much of a masochist to go back just for the hell of it." That received him a chastising look from Heero that made him smirk. But hell, on the inside he did slightly regret his choice in words. Not the best thing to say around someone so fucking concerned with his mental and physical wellbeing.
Quatre's frown deepened, suddenly very serious. "It's become quite a different place over the last several years since the war. Not much good comes out of there," he said with a heavy sigh. Then he eyed his friend and added. "No offense."
Duo shrugged. "None taken. No one ever said I was good, eh? Besides I haven't called L2 'home sweet home' for almost a decade now."
The air around them had suddenly become thick with uncomfortable tension. For a moment Duo regretted acting so nonchalant, but it was the only way he felt he could reasonably handle the idea of actually going back to a colony that had spit him out none-too-gently so many years ago.
"Vingt Et Un is a hotel," Quatre proceeded to explain again, though no one had prompted him to. "It's also a casino, L2 being the only sector to legalize gambling in the Earth Sphere. Though, from what I understand, much of what goes on there is not within the realm of legality."
Duo snorted, shaking his head. "Of course not," he mumbled. Shit, nothing on L2 had ever been in the 'realm of legality,' as Quatre had so graciously put it.
"We'll need some form of security," Heero muttered, his eyes finally flicking up to meet Wufei's for a brief moment of understanding.
The Preventer nodded, acknowledging the statement to assume that Heero meant more than just new identification and papers. "I can procure some firearms, most likely Glocks. Nothing fancy, considering I've technically been placed on some sort of bullshit leave."
Duo glanced up, curious as to why Wufei had withheld such information, but smarter than to pry, knowing the man hadn't bothered in explaining that getting booted from the case had seemingly morphed into a 'bullshit leave' for a reason. He was probably more pissed at Une than the lot of them. Understandable enough.
Quatre pursed his lips. "That'll have to do. Along with the arms we already possess."
"I enjoy the Glock 19, personally." Duo huffed out, giving Wufei a sly look from the corner of his eyes to see if he had gotten any sort of rise out of the man. He failed miserably.
Trowa rolled his eyes beneath shrouding bangs. "I like anything that works," he added under his breath, causing Duo's attention to be diverted.
"The Glock 19 holds fifteen rounds."
Trowa almost smiled. "I haven't had fifteen people after me all at once since the war."
Duo shrugged. "Could happen."
"We'll need new clothing as well," Quatre interrupted, clearly ready to move on with the conversation. The strategist within him calculating every move they were about to make in the next leg of their somewhat vigilante investigation.
Both Heero and Duo glanced down at their attire, the only two to do so, and it made the braided man smile uneasily, realizing that maybe he wasn't the only one who felt self-conscious in front of the other former pilots. Of course, knowing Heero Yuy, he figured the adorably confused look on his features merely represented the idea that clothing was not the most important issue at hand. But they were dealing with Quatre the idealist after all.
"Don't worry about that," Quatre continued, brandishing a rectangular platinum plated cellular phone that looked much too expensive for Duo to even touch. The blond tapped across the glass screen and then put the phone to his ear, getting up to remove himself from the group, while not actually exiting their cramped living quarters. After a few silent seconds he began speaking in low, fast Arabic. Always the man with fuckin' connections, Duo figured.
"So...predictions for what we're up against?" Duo directed the question towards Wufei, but the query was really meant to be a general filler for the now quiet group.
Wufei shook his head and smiled grimly, his eyes flicking from stoic green, to harsh blue, and finally to curious indigo.
"Yeah. A bunch of gluttonous fat cats binging on L2 vices and a stalker we know nothing about who may or may not be trying to kill us, replicate us, or just fuck with our heads until we crack under the pressure." His own eyes glowed with cynical mirth.
Duo shuttered under the black orb's eery gaze. "Shit, 'Fei, never took you for such a glass half empty kind of guy."
For once that evening, Duo was the only one not smirking at his own sarcasm.
They opted for a private shuttle, mainly due to the ever important option of carrying their own weapons aboard. Preventer was out of the question now, so it all had rested on Quatre's shoulders which didn't seem to be much of a problem. Old Winner money and all.
"I can't help feeling we're being led to slaughter," Duo muttered. He shook his head, watching the tarmac fly past his vision as their shuttle landed, trying his best not to think about just where they had landed. "Fuckin' proverbial lambs."
"Don't sound so optimistic," Quatre muttered from the seat next to his friend, shaking his head with a congenial smirk.
Duo sighed, unable to even find humor in the petite man's sarcasm. He'd been trying to be optimistic, hell he never was one for finding the silver lining, but dammit he'd been trying. None of his endeavors lately seemed to be making much progress.
Heero tipped his head, as if he might have had an inkling to grin, and uncrossed his jean clad legs, leaning forearms on his knees. It was as if he was trying to get closer to Duo, who had chosen the seat opposite him, needing desperately to close that physical space between them. But the braided man knew better than to think that; he'd already come to the conclusion that forced optimism was not his forte.
"Gambling revenues on L2 are close to seven billion dollars a year. The definition of irrational behavior," Heero stated shaking his head in disbelief, sounding like that good old, too smart for his own good, naively lost boy from the war.
Duo let out a throaty chuckle. "That's just human nature, Heero. Everyone wants to be the big winner."
Heero sat back, for some reason oddly satisfied by his companion's response, and they were silent again as the shuttle continued its slow trek to the terminal.
They got another rental car, because shit if they were being followed and watched was a taxi really gonna make a difference? Heero drove and Duo begrudgingly accepted the bitch seat in the back to let Wufei ride shotgun. He was still recovering from a 'traumatic experience' so it was the 'least he could do' Quatre had whispered to him with those damn, pleading eyes of his. Always trying to keep everybody happy.
So Duo sat with his arms folded across his chest as to not make any physical contact with Trowa or Quatre on either side of him and he stewed for a little while, but when they made their way closer to their destination his annoyance began to morph into curiosity.
The hotel, Vingt et Un, was huge, towering over the surrounding buildings with its seventy floor expanse, the roof looking as though it might come into dangerous contact with the colony's metallic sky above.
After Heero gave the valet the car keys and Quatre had placed a crisp twenty in the young man's hand, the five walked forward, entering the hotel through one of the ten tinted glass entrances that lined the building's front. Inside they walked through the lobby, the smell of cigar smoke and sound of chattering slot machines filling their senses immediately.
Duo eyed the marble pillars, fountains spewing over-chlorinated aqua water, and granite tile beneath his feet with a look of disgust. No wonder they made seven billion dollars a year, the place was a fucking behemoth of luxury and temptation.
"Expensive," he muttered, falling in step with Heero, the thought having become a natural reflex.
Heero gave him an unreadable expression, but said nothing in response.
Quatre checked in as the other four waited patiently, their eyes taking in every nook and cranny of the high ceilinged lobby. At this point, none of them could visibly relax, always on edge, always watching for anything suspicious, anyone looking or staring for a moment too long. Their initial surveys came up empty; shit luck as per usual.
When Quatre handed them their respective room keys they all agreed to go upstairs, freshen up, and then meet again in twenty minutes. Duo absently wondered if that would be enough time for a 'quickie.' Maybe he was coping again for their current circumstances with ill-placed internal humor, or maybe he was doing it for Quatre's sake, thinking that that was the underlying reason for not booking a suite big enough for them all to bunk together. Privacy was becoming well underrated amongst the five.
Either way, the thought made Duo smirk and admittedly made him feel a little better about their whereabouts and their mission, if you could even call it that.
Heero and Duo found their room on the twenty-third floor, while the others were above on the twenty-fourth. There was the familiar beep as Heero opened the door and it reminded Duo of all the other hotel rooms he'd been staying in lately, all too fucking nice for his tastes, like he might break something or spill on the perfectly white sheets.
Duo unceremoniously dumped his duffle bag on the floor at the foot of the queen sized bed (he was glad to see Quatre had been slightly less frivolous this time) while Heero placed his own bag precisely atop a triangular luggage rack near the flat screen television. That was the extent of their 'unpacking,' but just these little idiosyncrasies reminded Duo how truly different they were from each other.
Heero started to change without even a thought to dropping his pants in front of Duo's now watchful eyes. Yes, they were quite different from each other, but after a moment Duo followed his lead and began to root around his bag for one of the crisp, new dress shirts Quatre had graced them all with.
Duo's was a deep shade of lilac and he wrinkled his nose, recalling Quatre's teasing words along the lines of 'it'll bring out your eyes.' He was much more accustomed to wearing all black, occasionally a charcoal or navy blue if he was feeling particularly adventurous.
But he donned the shirt anyways and paired it with dark slacks that fit him a little too well. And even though he had his reservations about the color, after he rolled up the sleeves to expose his forearms and checked his appearance in the mirror he realized that maybe Quatre had been right. Damn, he looked hot.
But moments later, after he'd splashed some water on his face, re-braided his hair and carefully placed a handgun in the back of his slacks, he realized that the current confidence in his looks was no match for the feeling of heat that invaded his body when he laid eyes on Heero.
Quatre had apparently allowed him to stick with more conventional colors, maybe because he didn't have time to have a potentially deadly conversation, and maybe because he knew he could at least get away with it when it came to Duo.
An ebony dress shirt hugged the muscles of Heero's upper body, the collar unbuttoned to expose his tanned neck and collar bones appealingly. Silvery grey dress pants, that seemed to match Duo's own in style, curved against his lean legs in a way that made the other man's mouth run dry. The look was completed by a pair of shining black leather flat top dress shoes, a welcome change from his usual trainers and military grade boots.
"Fuck, 'Ro."
Duo hadn't realized his verbal gasp had been uttered out loud until he was met by a quirk of the Japanese man's thick brow.
Duo pursed his lips before scowling. "You got black," he said, gesturing to Heero's shirt.
Looking down at the article of clothing he was wearing Heero's lips twitched. He took a few steps forward to close the gap between them and ran a hand against the collar of Duo's own shirt, his fingers grazing against the sensitive skin of his neck for a sparking second.
"This color looks good on you."
Duo swallowed hard. "Thanks." His voice was nothing but a husky whisper. Maybe they still had time for that quickie.
But just as suddenly as Heero had approached him he was walking past him towards the door. Duo fought against an impulsive growl at the back of his throat; fucking frustrating man.
In the lobby they were the last to arrive. The other three turned as Heero and Duo walked towards them and he took in their appearances with appraising eyes. He wanted to laugh, as shit they were rather an attractive looking group when they tried to be.
Quatre, of course, was wearing a dusty blue shirt and khaki chinos and if it hadn't been for the navy blue blazer Duo would have thought he had travelled back to the man's younger years of fashion during the war.
Trowa, on the other hand, looked nothing like he had during the war, the expensive clothing suiting him in an oddly agreeable way. He too appeared to have gotten away with his preferred spectrum of colors, wearing jet black slacks and a silvery shirt that did nothing to hide his muscular frame. He mirrored Heero in opposite, like yin and yang, save for the skinny, sable tie hanging from his neck.
Finally Duo's eyes fell on Wufei who was wearing a strangely collarless shirt, olive green with cream trim under the buttons, curving around his neck where the collar would have been, paired with straight, coffee toned pants. It looked well on him and Duo might have even gone as far to say handsome.
"Damn, we clean up nice, huh?" he quipped upon arriving at their awaiting group of friends.
Trowa reached up to straighten-or maybe loosen?-his tie, the only response Duo received as Quatre was busy typing away at his phone and Wufei seemed to be flat out ignoring him.
After another brief and silent moment, Quatre took the lead and walked towards the hotel's casino. Their first, and only it seemed, plan of action being to seek out Menta Rolland, the general hope being that she wasn't dead and/or would be able to inform them of just what the hell had been going on lately.
They were being painfully optimistic again and it was hurting Duo's stomach to think about it too much.
As they made their way casually through the casino, passing under glowing crystal chandeliers, skirting around cocktail waitresses in tight black dresses, and viewing the general heir of debauchery around them, Duo couldn't help but notice just how wealthy it seemed everyone inside Vingt et Un was.
He could see now why their clothing and outward appearances had been such an intricate and important detail; the place seemed to cater specifically and singularly to the highest of high rollers. He was pretty sure he hadn't seen anything lower than a hundred dollar bill in the entire place so far.
They turned a corner, heading past a bustling looking Italian restaurant when Heero's cellphone started to ring. He picked up and Duo moved closer in an attempt to hear who was on the other line.
"Yuy," Heero answered abruptly.
"I'm calling to inform you of some new developments," Sean Davis stated, his tone cocky as ever.
Heero shrugged noncommittally. "We're off the case. No Preventer connection anymore."
This grabbed the other's attention, immediately realizing who was on the other end. Duo only leaned closer, picturing Heero pushing him away with his free hand, but surprisingly the other man allowed the physical closeness to endure.
Davis spoke again. "Affirmative. However, there have been some rather disturbing developments."
This caused both Heero and Duo to stiffen simultaneously. "Go on," Heero prompted.
"Mizzerahi Ryland was picked up by Preventer earlier today. He's not dead, but he is in some sort of psychosomatic state," Davis explained. Duo began to relax, feeling that this was not the most disturbing thing he could have been informed of. The man continued. "As well, this morning the bodies of Matthew Rook and Michael Richardson were found to be missing."
Duo's body tensed again. Heero's brows furrowed. "Missing?"
"They were taken from a Preventer morgue. At this time we don't have any leads, but it was something that Une wanted you all aware of, even if you're not investigating anymore." There was a knowingness to his words, as if he truly felt stupid having to play the game and lie and pretend like he believed they weren't still acting on their own.
"Is that all?" Heero asked, sounding almost impatient, like this had truly been a huge waste of his time.
Davis said, "affirmative," and Heero hung up.
"Ryland is alive. Rook and Richardson's bodies are currently missing," Heero said in a deadened voice, relaying the message to the rest of his former teammates.
Duo rubbed the back of his head and looked to Quatre who had a slightly sickened look on his face. The more he thought about it, the more it sickened him too. Why would anyone want those seemingly random dead bodies? That was some creepy shit for sure-
But his rambling internal dialogue was broken off by the click of a three-position selector lever somewhere in the bustling casino behind him.
Uzi SMG. There was no doubt in his mind; that shit he knew.
Their lives as Gundam pilots might have lacked many things. Most of them never knew a normal childhood or the comfort of convention. They had never counted on anyone expect for themselves and maybe a few trustworthy beings along the way. There hadn't been time for discovering things, or making sense of things, or the basic rhythms of human nature, but when they all simultaneously heard the sound of the safety being slid back and no immediate stab of burning pain in their flesh the ex-pilots moved all at once, as if their superior instincts had been waiting for just such a problem to arise.
Heero used his right arm to shove Duo down just before the first bullet passed through the air where the center of their backs had just been.
The entirety of the casino went silent and slack jawed for a split second, just enough time for the five men to crouch behind some colorful slot machines, Heero and Duo mirrored by the other three across the aisle they had just been walking down.
Another spraying of bullets rang out, clipping off the metallic side of the device Trowa had been peeking around, throwing him backwards at the sound. And then the panic set in.
Screams drew up into the air above them, the sound of crashing chairs, smashing glassware, and running feet assaulting their ears. This elevated noise level was not helping their fucking chances of survival here. The only reason they were still alive in the first place was the telltale sound of the gun.
By now the five had retrieved their own guns, Glock 19's to Duo's genuine pleasure, from the respective hiding spots on their person. Another shot rang out, this time towards Heero, but amidst the running crowd none of them could place their attacker, their only clue being the seemingly steady stream of shots being leveled at their bunkering forms.
"Shit, there's five of us and only one of him, how the fuck-?" Duo's words were filled with shock as he gasped them out, more shots bouncing off an overturned chair not more than two inches away from him.
Heero grit his teeth. "They're not here to kill us."
Duo frowned, but understood immediately what his partner meant. If they had been wanted dead they certainly already would have been lying in pools of their own blood. This guy couldn't have been that bad of a shot.
Their minute conversation was broken off by the sound of the Uzi being pointed upwards and a gigantic crystal chandelier crashing hard to the ground below, where the group had been standing not more than a moment ago. The echoing sound had caused even more screams and panic to grow as guests were being herded to the exits and Duo wondered vaguely what kind of a place didn't have better security than this. But then he remembered what Quatre had said about L2; not much good seemed to be coming out at this particular juncture.
As the chandelier made its decent to the floor, Duo had caught a glimpse of a figure dressed in black and, despite the calming presence of Heero next to him, he charged into impulsive action.
His legs seemed to be moving faster than his brain, his fingers clicking the safety of his gun off as he ran, dodging the affluent guests he'd been previously eyeing. His shoulder barreled into a taller gentlemen, wearing a suit that probably cost more than Duo was worth, his eyes hot on the trail of the figure he'd committed to memory.
The sound of Heero's voice, strong and pissed, flooded into his ears from several long steps behind him. He was thankful for the backup, but had no time to turn around and actually listen to the man's words.
No, he fucking had him, he wasn't about to give that up.
He'd made it to the front entrance, pushing past a group of terrified women in floor length gowns without a second thought and dove through one of the glass doors which had been securely opened from the outside.
He didn't immediately feel the stinging sensation in his leg until a few more reckless steps took him toward a long line of beeping, angry taxi cabs. But then his eyes travelled down and were met with the sickening site of a lime green tinted dart, fucking feathers and all, even if they were plastic.
He didn't immediately feel the effects of whatever poison or drug was being introduced into his system as he decided that now would be as good a time as any to start listening to Heero. But then his vision was blurring and his muscles weakening to the point that his knees buckled violently, his palms barely able to combat the fall.
He didn't immediately register the feeling of fear that coursed through his veins as his body stopped responding or the rough hands he felt on his arms seconds after he'd fallen to his submissive, kneeling position. But he did remember the pleadingly enraged sound of Heero's voice calling after him in the casino seconds before and he wondered faintly if he'd be able to reach him in time to play the hero and rescue him like he always seemed to have to do.
But then his mind fogged over, the image of Heero's face being washed violently away and he succumbed to the darkness.