Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the City at Night ❯ Sweeps ( Chapter 31 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Sweeps

Chai took notes on Heero's commentary about seeing shady characters around as Zachary Baits took he and the others from tourist hot-spot to tourist hot-spot. Heero was going on about gardens she'd love and museums she'd have to see some day. There was an opera that he said he managed to sleep through, and a movie theater where he caught up on almost all the movies he'd wanted to see. He was somewhat sad that their week of vacation time was half over, but he had every intention of meeting with the man again.

Running that through the translator, Chai assumed he meant that they'd only seen one or two people who may have had it in for Baits. They were continually in a group of too many people, though, so nothing could be done.

She wondered if she should be put out that Heero'd been taken into a lap of luxury to be wined and dined, while she was stuck on base with two men she hardly knew.

Not that she really knew Jordan's other friends much better.

The timing for the call, around five on Wednesday, had been arranged well before they'd left so Chai could relay messages. She did this by repeating the stories Heero told her to Jordan as much word for word as she could recall. She knew they had some sort of code talk that they'd employ, or assumed it, anyway, so if Heero said a certain phrase, it might bare repeating. Jordan returned with his own story of a house in the middle of nowhere.

His translated to nothing was going on.

He ended with a note that the local garrison of soldiers near Beedus had requested that the former Gundam pilots meet the men. It was a special thing for the local soldiers only...and he asked her to poke at Heero to take a day out of his oh-so-busy schedule to join them if he could manage the long drive.

That translated to a reason for her to let Heero know...they were talking to the garrison. She figured she'd missed something in the message as she informed him she loved him and missed him...which was not a coded message.

"Love you, too, pussycat," he muttered. "We'll be home soon."

X x X x X

"Peace," Trowa noted, running his fingers around the edge of a podium. "It's such a lovely idea...no wars, no power struggles...just harmony..." he looked to the men gathered. "We've managed that harmony, haven't we? Mostly?"

There was a grumble of assent as the soldiers waited almost breathlessly for the point.

"I heard there were a few men upset about old-money," Trowa noted, looking the people over. "Do we have a problem with old money?"

"Only that it's not ours," one soldier noted with a snicker...which got the group approval.

"So the panel...the entire council...all of it," Tro looked around again. "They're taking care of the people?"

That brought some confusion as people agreed, or thought they did until something got dropped on them.

"How confidential can we be, gentlemen?" Trowa asked, moving around the podium and down off the slight stage. "How many of you would rather the old-money families not be in power?"

"But they have the practice," someone called. "Why...they have the education...they know what they're doing...not that the new ones don't, but..."

"But there's no actual problem with our governing system," another man, a lieutenant, agreed.

"Are we all in agreement?" Trowa asked loudly...to a rumble of agreement. "Good. I'll let you in on a secret that only the governing parties know. If a state of emergency was declared and our president and his vice president were unable to function or, god-help-us, dead, then the next person in charge wouldn't be the obvious choice. There's...a second list. A secret list. Only the top-most layers of any government branch know the line of it...well, only the top-most layer is supposed to know."

There was a quiet babble, which was quickly hushed by the highest ranking men in the room.

"There was a leak of the names," Trowa added, shaking his head. "A completely confidential list of names...just...trickled...out," he flicked his hand as he extended his arm away from himself. "There were maybe forty people that should have known it, and we suddenly find out that twice that know."

Silence.

"Two times as many people who should know...knew," Trowa couldn't keep the irritation from his voice as he paced in a slight circle. "How many of you voted for Tirone Beedus? Don't be shy."

A large amount of hands rose into the air.

"Wonderful," Trowa clapped his hands together and bounced on the balls of his feet a bit as he beamed at them all. "Absolutely perfect. We have our loyalty," he noted to Jordan.

That got an instant outcry of voting and loyalty...and it basically ended with the fact that they were all loyal.

"You see," Trowa added, "Tirone was ninth on this secondary list."

The room instantly hushed.

"Beedus was kidnapped two or three months ago, held for two or three weeks, and beaten."

Instant uproar as soldier after soldier rose to their feet demanding blood. The fact that he'd been taken against his will had been noted in the press, but not that he was beaten.

"Fundamentalists," Trowa called loudly over them—and he was heard over them. "Men who work 'for the people,'" he spat the words derisively as he made air-quotes. "Maxwell and Yuy saved him," Trowa gestured toward Jordan, who was sitting on the platform with Quatre. "I'm sure you all heard about the joy-riders with guns? It was hardly a joy ride." The tall male turned to look at Quatre, who was vaguely green around the gills...for all that Jordan was projecting what he could for his friend. "They shot Zachary Baits in the stomach, you know," he added. "He's on the list too...and would you guess who else?"

Names were tossed around before the lieutenant raised his voice, "Marquise."

"Exactly right," Trowa agreed, pointing at him. "Zechs Marquise. Zechs currently employs his own security teams...men who were stationed at that parade he was watching. These men weren't lax, the assassin just happened to be taking an extraordinary risk...and just happened to be within a hundred feet of me, Yuy, Winner, and Chang. Chang's a bit faster than we are, or maybe he was just looking at the right spot at the right time...but they shot Baits in the stomach and rigged the house he was holed-up in to explode with a motion detection bomb."

More cries of alarm, seeing as many people had heard about the house that had exploded, though no one had gotten the end story of why.

"See, our fundamentalists," Trowa laughed a bit, "forgot to take his phone."

Disbelief.

"I'm going insane," Quatre muttered, trying not to hyperventilate as he stared wide eyed at the podium. "Jordan..."

"Shh," Jor shifted closer to his friend as Trowa continued on with his story. It was more than they'd agreed on to share, but at the same time Trowa knew what he was doing. "Just focus on me, huh?"

"There are too many," Quatre whimpered. "Too many...everywhere..."

"Quatre, don't do this," Jordan muttered, reaching over and resting his hand on the other's forearm.

There was another outcry from the group at whatever Trowa was saying...and Quatre outright bolted to a trashcan, retching hard as the shock of the masses focused on him instead.

"Empath!" one of the lieutenants shouted. "Empath!" The cry carried out across the room of the two hundred or so men...and an almost tangible shift came over the room...dead silence, for one...but the focus...

Trowa blinked, then moved to Quatre with Jordan. They both rested their hands on the guy, Tro focusing on what he'd been trained and Jor doing what he always did...as a man came up to them with a water bottle.

"Hold it!" one man ordered to a corner, to very young looking people. "This many in a room have to be assaulting him. You hold it!"

"What is this?" Trowa asked, noting that Quatre was calming. "What's..."

"We have a rather strong empath who boarded with us," the lieutenant offered. "We had special trainings to help him. He's moved onto your base now, a guy named Riggs...you know him?"

"I can't say I do," Trowa frowned as he thought.

"Good man," Quatre called loudly, rinsing his mouth and spitting the water into the can. "He's a good man."

"We figured that emotional control would be a good trait for soldiers," the guy added somewhat proudly. "It also keeps them from starting riots."

Trowa laughed a bit evilly at that, looking back to Quatre.

"I appreciate it," Quatre muttered, amazed by the empty feeling of the room as he swallowed. "But seeing this many men with no emotions but his amusement," he indicated Trowa, "is really fucking with me...I...I need to..."

"I have an office above here," a man offered. "It would provide a buffer for Riggs when he was having a bad day...you can...use it, if you'd want. I'd be honored."

"Thank you," Quatre agreed, moving to follow the man, then offered the soldier the water bottle back. That received a negation, and Quatre offered him a salute before turning and leaving the room.

X x X x X

"Can I kill him?" Wufei whispered to Heero as they moved together through a mall. There'd been a man dogging their trail the entire week, and Wufei'd decided he missed Jordan enough to pull one of his stunts.

"No," Heero refuted, giving him a look.

"But I really really want to," Wufei protested, offering Zach a bright smile.

Zachary laughed, turning toward a Streak-Red outlet.

"You know, now you just sound like Duo," Heero retorted.

"One does ones best," the comment was slightly modest before, "Don't call him that."

Heero laughed.

"Hey, Fei," Morgan muttered, spotting some shirts, "Check these out."

Wufei moved toward his friend as Mario looked the room over and wandered toward his own choice.

"I usually have a stylist," Zach muttered, moving to a rack. "If I'm gonna be buying something from a store like this I usually have someone to advise me that wearing a shirt that says to fuck off is a bad idea."

Heero laughed, raising a shirt that said the words in tiny print, "So buy this one."

Zachary started laughing.

X x X x X

"They just rallied everyone here," Darian muttered over his cell-phone to Corringer. "Barton, Maxwell, and Winner just told everyone stationed here about the second list and...everyone's lining up to do guard duty on Beedus."

"Son of a bitch!" Corringer swore viciously. "I knew I shoulda just fuckin' killed him!"

"There's no way I can get to him," Darian persisted, swallowing as he looked around himself. "I have to abort."

"You can't sign up for a shift and just do it then?"

"No," Darian growled through clenched teeth. "Did you not hear me? They rallied everyone on the base to save him."

"Shit," Corringer punched a wall in irritation. "Just back down...what did they say?"

"I'm not a member of the base," Darian retorted. "I got put on perimeter duty and didn't hear any of it. My information is all second-hand."

"Did...who did that? Who made it like that?" Corringer had a horrible thought that the pilots may have figured something out.

"The base listing," Darian shrugged slightly. "Listening to the speeches was a special treat for the locals...it was arranged by their higher ups...Beedus is out of my reach."

"Then get out of harm's way," Corringer muttered, pulling his phone from his ear. "We can take care of him later..." he closed his phone.

"What's the matter?" Crater asked, studying his friend and leader.

"Beedus is on a top shelf...let's hope McDussen can get at least Baits gone."

"We still have to figure out Fontinelle," Crater reminded him. "Then Zerone and Wilkon."

Corringer waved him off, thinking more as he paced, then shook his head. "Let's just wait for McDussen."

X x X x X

"So Yuy tells me that I'd better not fuckin' tell Maxwell," Xane muttered as he sat with Beedus and Paris near the entertainment center. "Because evidently, Maxwell will just kill them."

"He's...uh...a bit violent," Tirone noted with a slight grin. "I once heard...you remember Shbleiker, don't you? She helped with the war efforts and stuff...German girl, I think..."

"Yeah?" Xane muttered, taking another pull from his cup.

"Well, Maxwell was dating her back when they were seventeen or so...and you know him. He's sent to infiltrate all the time...took her with him, most of them. I guess she ended up getting caught and it ended in something of a massacre. Granted, the people who took her weren't so nice themselves, but Maxwell did it alone."

"The news said the five of them were together, though," Xane protested, remembering the breaking story. "That they were attacked by some rebel faction or something and they had to use excessive violence to oppress the insurgents."

"Pretty way of saying they killed thirty or so men," Paris retorted, shaking his head. "You can't tell me Maxwell did that all himself...not at seventeen."

"There's a reason he's not worried about his girlfriend being nabbed," Tirone noted, studying the pair in front of him. "Heero's told me before that Jordan adopted a theory of...Darwinian proportions. He said that Duo, this is a quote, that Duo said that he'll make an object lesson of the first people who cross him. He's shown his girlfriend's status as untouchable, and I'm sure if he finds out about the threat on Mouthy...well, he'd probably go put a bullet through the enemy's head."

"Publicly and brutally," Xane agreed morosely. "Yuy told me that it'd cause a massacre. But now Jor's picked up on the threat and that's why he's babying me."

"What part of atrocity isn't making it through that pea brain of yours?" Paris demanded, studying the man. "Do you not get that the man probably means to slice off an appendage or two? I don't know about you, but I prefer all mine firmly attached."

"I just feel so useless," Xane snapped, rising to his feet and starting to pace around. "I feel like he thinks I couldn't take it, but he says I'm the best of the five of us."

"What the hell is he even training you for?" Doug asked, moving back to them from a bathroom. "I've never got the full story of it."

"They're spies," Paris explained happily. "Jordan's teaching them to assimilate into any society at any time for any reason."

"That's cool...so like, you know how to do everything?"

"He's teaching us," Xane admitted, thinking over the training sessions.

"So...what do you think about killing?" Doug asked, sitting down and picking up his bottle of water.

"I don't know."

"How much self-defense training you got?" the redhead persisted.

"Some..."

"Have you ever been hit around?"

Xane shuddered slightly and frowned at him.

"Oh, that's right," Doug said it a bit pointedly, "You like being touched..."

"Listen, firecrotch," Xane started.

Paris and Tirone snickered.

"How would you react to suddenly being thrown into a dark room and beaten to unconsciousness?" Doug cut him off, setting the water bottle down. "How would you react if they raped you? How would you react if they started cutting off fingers or toes? They won't be trying to get information out of you...and if Jordan does something they don't like they'll be apt to just kill you."

Xane stared at him.

"He's not babying you," Doug added a bit derisively, picking up the bottle again. "He's protecting you until you have the means to get yourself out of these situations. You have any idea how horrified Jordan'd be if you were nabbed or killed because of him? He loves you, man. You're on par with Trowa and Quatre in his eyes...up there with Wufei and Heero. We all are," he noted, looking to Paris. "We're part of their in-crowd, and if you haven't noticed by the dinners and parties, they share and share alike."

"But they'd save me," Xane muttered, frowning a bit. "They'd come save me...it's not like I'd have to bear with it long."

"How long does it take to cut off a hand?" Doug pointed out. "How long would it take for them to find you? How much shit would they pull off in that time? Didn't it take him like...ten hours or something to find Baits? You could be dead before he got to you."

Xane sat back.

"Until he's got you on the same level as us," he indicated Paris, "No offense intended, but until you have the same basic shit we went through...he's not gonna leave you vulnerable."

"I thought you guys weren't trained, though," Xane started.

Doug smirked slightly, "We've been trained by them for their standards...they aren't cross training us for anything but name, really...we already know it all."

"No," Paris corrected, "They use different hand-signals."

Xane blinked.

"But they're all basically the same," Doug pointed out. "I mean...Jor halves a lot of them, Trowa's are just lazy...Wufei has them sharp...I mean, come on, they communicate with each other like that."

"That's true," Paris nodded his agreement. "Quatre's are normal."

"No, his are round and hard to follow," the guy smirked slightly. "You forget that you lot communicate with emotions themselves."

That got a group grin.

"I find it fascinating to see you all together," Tirone noted, bringing himself into attention again. He wasn't going to admit that he liked being the center of attention, so he decided that it was his house and he could change topic at will. "When the guys are around, you even deal with each other differently...but tonight..."

"I respect Trowa to the very center of my being," Doug explained. "He's taught me things that I would have never thought of, and like Mouthy said earlier. They'll save us. They will come for us."

"Quatre accepted me," Paris shrugged a bit. "I could read you all right now where we sit and almost know what you're thinking when I do it, and even though there is that, Quatre accepted me. He's loyal, I can rely on him...and you guys accept me."

"Why wouldn't we?" Xane asked, smirking slightly. "You're just as fun to mess with as Jordan."

Paris smiled at him and shook his head, "You wouldn't understand unless you saw it, and it would make you mad."

Xane considered things when Tirone focused on him with interest, then shrugged. "It just works. Jordan...I dunno. I've always been a physical person," he ran a hand along Tirone's forearm. "Most of the time I don't think about the touching that I do...granted this was an example," he gestured. "But...I don't think about it. When I start doing it," he focused on the others, "I'll do it to you both eventually...people don't always react amicably. When I did it to Jor he smiled at me...you know? It's the simple things...and like Firecrotch pointed out, they care."

"Knock it off," Doug protested. "Sheesh..."

"If you all are going to insist on calling me mouthy," Xane noted, "Then I'll come up with something else for you."

"Where did that come from?" Doug asked curiously. "Logan and Wayne suggested blow-jobs."

"Of course they did," Paris noted in amusement.

"When we first met up with Jordan, he came in with apples. I pointed out to him that sleeping beauty was poisoned by apples into a sleep of death, and he corrected me that it was Snow White. He didn't like Featihl, so there it stands."

"Just like that?" Doug stared at him a moment, then rolled his eyes. "Doesn't it figure..."

Xane laughed.

"Thing is," Paris went back to their former subject, "we want to do what they need us to do...and Quatre's my best friend, so that just sort of takes my attention, you know? He's not here right now, so I change focus...and that just sounded really gay."

Xane and Doug snickered at him and shrugged to Tirone.

Tirone grinned back at them and nodded, "I get your point, though. Isn't it about time for a patrol?"

"Ooh, ouch," Doug flinched as he looked to his watch and stood. "I don't know if I should go alone or not," he added, thinking about it.

"Normally, no," Trowa muttered...which caused them all to jump since no one had heard the front door open. "But in this situation, it's a bit complicated."

"Hey!" Xane bounced up and moved toward Jordan. His friend looked tired.

"Hey," Jordan returned, ruffling his hair in passing, "Hey, Tirone."

"Hi, Jor. How'd it go?"

"We've got a troop surrounding the perimeter now," Trowa explained. "I told them what was going on and they volunteered for duty tours...a good two hundred men, so they'll swap out off and on."

Tirone stood, looking amazed.

"Yeah, you should probably go welcome them to your house or something," Tro agreed. "Make a speech of it...comment once or twice on loyalty."

X x X x X

It was Streak-Red that did it.

McDussen leaned against the wall more, looking to the ceiling.

Baits was absolutely bouncing around that store with Yuy, and everything that was said brought laughter; every thing shown brought laughter...everything looked at brought laughter.

McDussen couldn't kill the man.

Actually, watching the way the group in the store shopped absolutely randomly, had pointed something out to McDussen, who'd been thinking a lot since he could never get a clear shot.

Maybe Corringer was wrong...maybe the old money didn't hurt...

Not that Zachary Baits was really old money. He was second-generation cash, and had been raised in an urban apartment building. He'd worked his way up the ladder himself, though...and, well, Terry Shifton was an ass anyway, right?

The whole thing was wonky, McDussen decided, pushing away from the wall. Everything was fucked up. There had to be a different way to go about getting anyone in charge...a way that didn't include murder or beating.

Something had to be wrong with Corringer's head...and that meant the man was apt to kill turncoats.

Witness protection?

The group moved out of the outlet store with bags, and Baits' face shone with the happiness of a child...someone who meant no one any harm and would do what he could to help others. Baits was a simple man with simple pleasures. He took his duties seriously, and his playtime more so...

They moved right by McDussen, and in a moment of brave giving up, he yanked Yuy's wrist and pulled the man after him down the side hall that led to a fire escape. He noted the rest of the group stopping to look, but pulled the man into the alley and shut the door before anyone could investigate the momentary siren.

"You normally pull strange me into the alleys?" Heero asked curiously, smirking a bit.

McDussen offered the man his pistol and sank to his knees when the man had taken it.

"What's this?" Heero demanded, pointing the weapon away.

"I'm a dead man no matter how anything works out, and I'd rather you did it than Corringer."

"What?" Heero asked quietly, studying him seriously.

"I was sent here to end Baits' life," McDussen confessed.

"I know," Heero reassured him, "So where does me holding your gun and you on your knees come into play?"

McDussen looked up to him in amazement.

Heero squatted down so they were face to face. "Does Corringer honestly believe we don't know what he and Crater are up to?"

The man's face blanched.

"Are you willing to testify?" Heero added. "You brought him up yourself. Are you willing to tell the world what he's up to? To face sure scorn?"

"I'm a dead man no matter how you look at it," McDussen noted shaking his head a bit. "If Corringer himself doesn't wipe me out, he'll find someone else to do it."

"How was the hit on Zechs Marquise orchestrated?"

"Simple credit transfer," McDussen shrugged. "He talked to his assassin over the phone, then gave the man credits."

"And you're not lying to me?"

"You're holding my gun in your hand and I'm on my knees in a back alley. Why don't you do the math?"

"It suggests saving your own skin," Heero retorted, setting the gun down between them. "If you're serious about this, play it normal until I get back to base in uniform, huh?"

"I have to call and check in," McDussen snapped at him. "I have to tell him..."

"Tell Corringer that we keep Baits in well lit places full of people? Or very dark places," a slight smirk crossed his face. "Tell him that we move around him in a pack. That there's no real opening where we couldn't get him out of the way? Do you honestly think we're complete amateurs? For god's sake man, I take Relena Peacecraft around."

The man shifted back.

"Be a good fellow and wipe off my prints," Heero added, indicating the gun. "I have enough of my own weapons on me where I don't need yours, so there's no point marking what you did."

"You have weapons on you?" McDussen demanded, lifting the gun and starting to wipe it down with his shirt as he looked the man over. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt...with steel toed boots.

Heero pulled one of his own pistols, pressing the tip of it to the man's forehead, "This even has a silencer."

McDussen froze, closing his eyes.

"And if anyone saw me do that to you I'd get chewed from here 'til November...well, forever...so leave that one out of the notes if you will," Heero straightened, putting the sidearm away. "I suggest you keep on us," Heero added. "Report like a good little bitch...and for god's sake, don't pull me into back alleys," he shook his head as he looked around, then turned back to the mall doors...that were closed. There was no handle from the outside, so he tapped his fingertips on it randomly.

Wufei pushed it open, giving him a curious look.

"You coming back in or not?" Heero demanded as he moved through the opening.

McDussen rose slowly, and followed the pair back into the mall.