Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Friends Will Be Friends ❯ Bound To Lose ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"I am concerned about Duo...*" I started, but was interrupted by Wufei.

"We're all concerned about Duo, Winner!" He snapped, interrupting me.


"If this is really him, and not another wrong lead, then we'll find
him and find out why he left us. And if there is a problem, we'll take
care of it and bring him back, whatever it takes." Heero said.

I may be mistaken, but it sounded almost soothing. Heero,the 'Perfect
Soldier' even though he despises the nickname, doesn't soothe
people. Right? No, he was probably simply sure of it. That is more
like him.

We disembarked quickly onto the shabby terminal of L2, those on the
shuttle standing in lines to get off quickly as the air in the shuttle
had grown stale. Once off, it was decidedly nippy to me, but Wufei and
Heero seemed to shrug it off.

"Can we rent a car, or would we be too conspicuous?" I didn't think
we could get away with a car, this colony was poor.

"Too flashy. We're better off walking." Heero said, and Wufei nodded.
Good, we were all agreed.

Together we boarded one of the ramshackle old busses that was waiting
outside, and made our way to the colony center. We knew that the business
Duo was listed as working at was located somewhere in the colony center and
would find the venue on foot once we were there.

Heero's hacking had indicated it was a perfume shop, but we had all
expressed our sincere doubts about Duo working in a perfume shop.
Businesses on L2 often did not list their true trade, unfortunately,
and there where a lot of corrupt politicians, tax inspectors and
other government officials who simply did not care enough to keep or enforce
accurate records. The data Heero had found yesterday could be accurate, or
it could be a red herring.

We found the perfume shop, decorated in lurid pink and yellow faux flowers

and a huge sign proclaiming its name, Common Scents. Wufei 'hmpft'-ed

at the pun, and I have to admit, it was a bad pun.

Behind the counter was a young girl looking about sixteen. She was wearing
a short skirt, a low-cut top and was blowing gum. Her short hair was
in a pony tail and she was wearing so much make-up that I was
surprised her face didn't crack.

"What can I get you, sugars?" she asked, snapping her gum again. She
already annoyed me.

"We need to speak to your manager." Wufei said, imperiously.

"No can do, Sugar, he's not here." She replied casually.

"Then get him here." he flashed his Preventers badge. We took ours
out and flashed ours as well. Might as well make the situation clear.
"Now!"

My my, our Dragon had a bit of a temper today.

She snapped her gum again, and stood up straight and defiant, arms crossed
over her chest.

"Whatever it was, I didn't do it and I've got an alibi.*" *She pointed
up at the cameras. "See? I've been here all day and it's on tape too."

"We are not accusing you of anything, we're merely investigating a
missing persons report and believe your manager may be able to help
us, Miss...?" I explained. Catch more flies with honey than with a
Dragon after all.

"*Helen. Helen St. Johns. I'll go and call the manager.*" She replied,
far calmer.

***



I sat on the chair, next to the desk with the bullet fired into it, in
the small, windowless box-office as Jozea spoke rapidly into the radio.
"We got 'im Boss, just as you said. We got him!"

Excitable, wasn't he? Of course, with five guns trained on me and only
one exit and said guns being between me and said exit, I didn't see
any way out that was not going to get me killed. Instead, I decided to
try and convince them that I was simply a small-bit player who was in
over their head. That might keep me alive; being a Preventer would
definitely see me dead. Letting some more defeat slump into my
shoulders, I relaxed as much as possible. I've been told it makes me
look younger.

"I'm sorry, but are all those guns really necessary?*" I asked, slightly

more wide-eyed than before. No big changes; big changes are

noticeable. Small and subtle changes aren't as noticeable and still

make it easier to give people the wrong impression.

One of the men snorted, flicked the safety on his gun and holstered it.
"Gotta agree with the kid, he can't be more than fifteen. It'll
hardly take five of us to keep him here."

Well, that was nice. Three years off my estimated real age and a gun
removed. One down, four to go.

"If the Boss says five of you, then five it is. Get that gun back out,
and you, Barton, slowly stand up with your hands in the air. We're
going to see the Boss. Everyone keep your guns trained on him, I want
two of you in front and three of you behind him. Barton, if you even
think of escaping, we will shoot to kill. "

Somehow I was getting the feeling that he was enjoying giving orders like
this.

Still acting a wide-eyed young two-bit thief caught red-handed, I
complied with his orders.

Marching along the narrow, long corridor I would have had three
chances to duck into rooms of civilians, but these rooms were like the
one I had been working in, small windowless boxes. It would serve no
purpose, and even if I managed to get in without being shot, I would
be putting innocents on the line for no good purpose.

We turned into a door which had been previously locked, and was marked
'No entrance'. It led to a stairwell, and for a brief moment I thought
I might have a way of escaping if there where only a few guns trained on
me. As it was, five was too many and it didn't look like I was losing
them any time soon.

Trooping up the stone stairs, we arrived at the reception where we crammed
into an elevator. We were obviously in the part of the
building where the higher-ups were literally higher up. The floors
were actually carpeted, and the walls painted in colours other than
battleship grey. Paintings started appearing, and the room I was led
into was sumptuous to say at the least.

Behind the wooden desk was an older man, in his mid fifties with
salt-and-pepper hair, and I recognised him from the Preventers
intelligence briefing. Frank Walden, charged at least six times for
various crimes, and he had walked away scot-free each time. Beside
him was a young girl, at a far smaller desk, drawing and colouring.

I did not recall Walden having any children, and they looked
dissimilar enough for me to suspect she was not his daughter. She had
dark brown, curly hair, whereas his hair was straight and lighter,
and where her eyes where brown and large, his were blue. She appeared
to be of Middle Eastern decent, and was maybe seven or eight years
old. Most likely, she was one of his acquisitions. I knew that Walden held
mostly women and children as slaves, but to see one of them displayed so
openly and nobody even question it was horrifying.

I was nudged forward, and then made to kneel in front of the desk, my
hands still in the air.

"So, you're the little spy who has been stealing my information. Who
are you and who sent you?" he asked.

"My name is Trowa Barton, and nobody sent me." I replied. Better a
two-bit thief than a Preventer.

"And why were you downloading my databases?" He was toying with
something behind his computer screen but I could not see what.

"I...I wanted to figure out exactly what you were doing. I want in on
this." I said, small tremors in my voice. It wouldn't do to be too
sure, but I did not want to appear too uncertain either.

Walden stood up and walked around the desk, to just in front of me.
"Is that so?" he asked mildly, seemingly interested.

Then his eyes turned a harder shade of blue, and he turned the screen
on his desk around. Looking back at me was my own likeness, and I
could even tell you where that photo was taken. It was the damned
publicity photo that Lady Une had made when we joined the Preventers
and she wanted to brag.

I knew that was going to come back to bite me.

"You see, I think you are Trowa Barton, Gundam Pilot and Preventer.
*This means you have been stealing my information to undermine me. And
now, you've lied to me. I don't like being lied to.
Now, the question becomes, do I kill you? Or do I see if I can train
you? Or do I simply sell you to one of my customers who would love to
take a Gundam pilot down a peg or two? Decisions, decisions!" he
tapped his chin as if thinking. I suspected that in truth he had long since
made up his mind.

"Marie, be a good girl and get a pair of cuffs." he ordered. The
little girl got up instantly, and ran over to one of the cupboards,
returning with a pair of leather lined manacles. They looked like
something straight out of a bondage shop. Don't ask me how I knew.

Bringing them over to Walden, he took them from her and handed them to
Jozea, then took out his gun and held Marie in typical
hostage-style; he pointed the gun straight at her head.

"Now Mister Barton, Jozea is going to put those cuffs on you and
Martins will inject you with some drugs. You are not going to
struggle, or little Marie her gets her brains blown out."

I nodded once. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking, obviously
believing what he said. If she believed him then I felt I had good
reason to as well. After all, she had probably known him for longer.

I allowed Jozea to take each of my wrists and snap the locks on the
manacles shut. They were quite comfortable for manacles, but allowed
me virtually no room, though the leather did not chafe as some
manacles will.

"Well hot damn, we got ourselves a Gundam Pilot." he crowed.

Walden was not too impressed.

"We already established that. Martins, the drugs please."

One of the other men was rummaging in a cupboard behind me, as I
slowly lowered my cuffed wrists. Nobody objected, obviously feeling I
was reasonably secure. They were right. Martins, a heavyset man in his
thirties, with a bald patch on top, approached me with a small metal
box. Inside, I could see a vicious looking syringe, and a few small
bottles. Filling the syringe with a mixture of two of them, the liquid
turned a toxic green shade. Two of the men took hold of me, allowing
him to quickly tie my arm off and tap a vein, sliding the needle in
with a sharp, short sting. Then I felt liquid burn through my arm, red
hot, spreading outwards until mere moments later it reached my brain
and the world went black.