Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Cat's Life ❯ The Slaves, Chains, and Five More People ( Chapter 6 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

AN: Supershort chapter- in my view- and I love every word of it. Let me tell you, the next chapter is going to be a doozy, and I didn't want to bombard you all at once when you can eat it in delectable pieces. Like I said, next chapter's going to be at least three-thousand action packed, sex-loaded, suspense-ridden words long. :D

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING! (keep 'em coming) I HAVE SO MANY FROM THE THREE SITES!

Well... Not like twenty a chapter like a famous author like Jade or Becca Abbott, but enough to make me freakin' happy and explode with new ideas. And to those that inspire me like crazy.

miku: As long as you review when there's a lack, I don't mind. This chapter's totally for you; you inspired it suddenly and now I know where to go from here. Thanks

Admiral ShadowWolf: I was worried you abandoned me, because I'm stupid like that. I'm interested too, but there's something to attend to first *wink* Quatre will do his best. Thanks for reviewing!

QueenPen: You made me feel really silly, though I think most reviewing is deterred by laziness, as many reviewers seem to confess. Thank you for the time you spent reviewing, giving the ratings, and giving me advice. I'll try to say I will stop a fic if it doesn't receive reviews in a nicer way next time (because there will be a next time, though I really hope not). I wish authors didn't have to go through stuff like that. Good luck!

Seer Vixion: I totally understand. I could be so immersed in a fic that I don't review because I don't remember. Then when I do remember, I'm not in the position to review! Haha. Don't worry, they are going to get closer... and closer.. Hehe...Thanks for reviewing!

anime gal22 You like the twist. Well, thanks a lot. I like that so many of my stories come with a twist (woohoo!). Quatre can predict a lot of things. Thanks for reviewing!

flying fish Your name is awesome! It could be laziness, like extreme, but that's okay. As long as there are a few reviews I don't mind the ultimate heap that don't review. And when it's on the fifth chapter, and it states like the story had a 100 hits, I wonder if people are really turned off, really. Thanks for reviewing, and of course, now, I'll totally continue it!

Summary: Not one to be given a break, Kushrenada is called for a match at the arena with almost impossible odds. It's going to be up to his slaves to save his life. (This is for this chapter and the next)



The Slaves, Chains, and Five More People


One long call, a master's trip to the arena, and they were dressed in their absolute best, forgotting for the day that Treize had supposedly more time. Treize had chosen, all over again, another set of fabulous clothes straight from the deep abyss that was his closet, and had passed out the outfits to each member of his large household. Strangely, the clothing came equipped with light armor, small weapons different for each of them. Quatre had no weapons, Treize saying his powers were useless at this point and that he should try to blend in to the surroundings and try not to make himself a target.

Quatre had no idea what that meant or what on the mighty earth was going on, but the others surely knew. It had happened before.

"A handicap match at the underground arena. Used to be that, if Treize won a handicap match," Duo explained, sliding several guns in his mutiple jean slips, "he would get extra money, but now that's his an on-call champion, they can call him up with any threat to his title. A challenger always has the right to choose what type of match it is. And Treize won't get any extra money."

"But why are all of you getting dressed up in battle gear? What's the handicap?"

"Us. Every last one of us. The challenger wants us in the arena while he fights Treize."

Then Quatre understood.

Not too long after, they rode a bus- which was the only vehicle able to carry all of them- to the building leading to the arena. It was constructed for the use of the fighters and led to the underground locker rooms, where they were walking to, which led to the actual arena, the place probably already filled with people ready to see their champion fight. They would if it weren't for the handicaps.

"My opponent paid an additional twenty million ducs in tiger's gold for two more handicaps. I accepted. Chains on me and five more opponents."

Surprisingly, his announcement was met with severe opposition. The most amazing coming from Milliardo Peacecraft:

"I trust that you can make a good win, however, those handicaps are too severe. You're going to get yourself killed."

Treize smiled. "I know that you're worried-"

"So are you."

"I am," the master confessed, "but I was blinded by how much money there was and decided to go along with something else utterly crazy. A bet. One of Theodore's."

This little fact seemed to be important, for the slaves' opposed his words vociferously.

"Treize!" Une cried, surprised. "That Theodore would-"

"If one of you manages to get killed, he gets three others of his choice."

"That's ludicrous! How in the world could you agree to something like that?" Une seemed angry, but she composed herself quickly, walking straight forward without looking at Treize anymore.

"We're going to get killed," Dorothy said, thumbing the two daggers at her hips nervously. Quatre didn't think such an aggressive woman like her could be nervous, but there she was, chewing her bottom lip until it fell off. No one seemed thrilled or pumped or psyched- as Quatre had read in books- about the oncoming fight. They were unnaturally despondent, and this made Quatre depressed, his empathy dampening his already heavy feelings. He decided to lift the mood the only way he could.

"Just imagine if we win. Twenty million ducs. Do you know how much that is?"

He felt their spirits suddenly lift, as if the money never occured to them- as if the money was nothing compared to Treize's life. The others also seemed to have forgotten that they would be in the arena as well, risking their lives just as much as Treize was. They finally stopped walking through the infinite number of concrete hallways and arrived at the locker room, a huge ward-like space with the lockers on the walls. The duke made his way to the locker decorated with huge flowers, ribbons, and other embellishments. He undressed completely and put on a pair of nifty boxers that left nothing to the imagination, and then a pair of sweatpants, nothing else, leaving his steller torso bare for any a watchful eye. Quatre was watching.

"Another twenty million if I win Theodore's bet," he said, with a grin. He scanned his entourage. "I'll splurge on all of you. Anything you want- how's that sound?"

They nodded together, eyes shining, infused with confidence and dreams. Quatre noticed Trowa also didn't have weapons, but was in Full Dress, his handsome body slightly drawn curved, tail wagging slowly.

"It's a tough fight, no joke," Treize continued, still smiling with this bad news, "Harry 'Steamroller' Jacobs. I've fought him before. It took me nearly an hour to smash through his armor. You saw it, Wufei."

Wufei nodded. It seemed like the punishment session had been a long, long time ago instead of two days, hardly. It seemed like he got to the crowded, off-handed house years ago. Everything was sucked into this moment, yesterday and tomorrow far off. Quatre knew that if one of them died or Treize died, their fragile yet potent intimacy would shatter. And Quatre could never become a pampered, docile pet he thought he would be. He would never fix the absurd hierarchy that was the Kushrenada house, and he would never have sex with Trowa again, or get to know him and his feline-ness better.

"Relena, watch out for Quatre, and everyone watch out for them. Quatre doesn't seem like he's ever even been in a fight before." Treize was right. Most of Quatre's experiences were the drives to town and reading books. "He has eyeholes instead of a visor for a mask, the stupid ass, so anyone with gun shoot at his head like its a Level Ten target, understand me? Anyone not shooting cover the shooters and defeat the others. I don't know who they are, but at least they are smaller than Harry, I'm sure."

A short stocky man rushes in, puffing and looking about wildly at them. "You're late! Nearly twenty minutes late! Get out in the arena, your chains are ready." And the little porker waddles off down another endless series of cement walls and corridors, and they follow them. Milliardo nearly runs, and Duo whistles. The girls giggle and whisper excitedly. At that moment, they believed they would win.