Type K: Part 5
By Kira MaxwellDisclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise, not me. I don’t own the G-boys, so please don’t sue me. You wouldn’t get anything anyway.
Warnings: Yaoi, Yuri, Het, Drug abuse, Gore, Strong language, NCS, Violence
Pairings: 13xR, implied 1x2, 3x4, 5+R, 9x11
Notes: Thanks to everybody who's been replying to this fic. ^_^ Feedback makes the author happy! And thanks to Iniq, who has so kindly offered to do a fanart. Wai!
Part 5
When Une entered the downstairs clinic, she found Sally scratching the back of her head and mumbling soft curses at the flask sitting in front of her on the countertop. “What have you managed to find, my good doctor?” she asked, hiding a smile.
Sally shook her head, sounding frustrated, “Not a damn thing. This drug’ll show up positive in one test only to come out negative in another! My results are completely contradicting each other. Have you found out who manufactures this stuff yet? Because if you have, I can look into it. Quietly, of course, but—”
Une held up a hand to silence her, “Let Chang and Winner take care of the boss’s footwork, Po. That’s what they’re paid for.”
Sally nodded. “Yea, I know. Whatever this stuff is, it’s quite remarkable, and baffling. No narcotics known to man, supposedly, not even a trace element of contemporary drugs. It should be highly poisonous and kill the user upon ingestion, but it doesn’t. Hell, the chemical makeup of this is so complex at a molecular level that it—”
Une interjected, “English, please.”
Sally rolled her eyes. “Basically, one talented son of a bitch got a hold of a chemistry set and decided to play God. He’s devised his own new element, Une. Something man has never seen before.”
Une’s chocolate brown eyes widened a little, and she exhaled slowly. “And you mean to tell me Mr. Khushrenada was injecting himself with this?” She held up the now-empty vial.
Sally nodded grimly. “Yep, and so did a few hundred other people at the rave downstairs tonight.”
*~*~*
It was late in the morning that Relena awoke. She still ached all over, but she did feel ten times better than she had the night before. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she rolled over, shoved off the thin covers, and sat up. The blonde girl glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and read aloud, “Eleven o’clock.” Finding herself clad in one of those long, shapeless, cotton garments she imagined old ladies wore in the early morning hours, she stumbled into the tiny kitchenette and poured herself a cup of coffee. Enjoying the scent and heat of the beverage as much as its taste, she settled back against the counter and closed her eyes.
A year ago she had been Relena Darlian, the seemingly pampered and elegant daughter of Prime Minister Darlian and heir of a political dynasty that had been established for well over three centuries. Darlian had been a firm father and a firm man, wielding considerable, though fair, influence over the government and his people. Relena had absorbed the art of statecraft as well as the etiquette she learned in the Royal Academy for Young Ladies, reared to be the next leader of a monopoly of power that was a juggling act to maintain.
It required a huge amount of work, and Relena learned from her father at a young age that this work would consume her life as it had consumed his and his father’s before him. Being a practical (as well as obedient) daughter, Relena had learned all she could. Then disaster struck.
Darlian’s enemies had long been plotting to unravel his family and take over the monopoly of power he held over the government. The best way to do that, it seemed, was to eliminate his bloodline as well as him and take over. Many old, powerful families had contributed to this conspiracy, including the Catalonias and the Khushrenadas.
One sunny afternoon, in the family’s mansion in sunny Valparaiso, Chile, dark-clad men carrying automatic rifles stormed the house, disabled the guards, and murdered the entire family: Darlian, his wife, and supposedly his only child, Relena. Smiling sardonically, Relena reflected how much her position was like that of the infamous Russian princess, Anastasia. Her entire family killed during a political dispute, and she, a young girl, the lone survivor who shouldn’t have lived at all. Ironically she chuckled into her coffee cup, then sobered as the memories continued.
A white-haired man that identified himself as Zechs Merquise smuggled her out of the house the night before, knowing that the attack would occur. She had no idea of this man’s true nature: who he was, or why he wanted to save her. Apparently he worked for one of the old families, the Khushrenadas, and he brought her as a hostage to the family’s leader: Treize. She’d been living as Treize’s “guest” ever since.
Sadly the blonde-haired girl sat her coffee down on the counter and looked at herself in the reflection of the microwave’s door. It was amazing what a human could adapt to in so short a time, amazing how low you could sink.
*~*~*
Wufei and Quatre had both gotten their daily four hours of sleep, showered, and were on the way to work dressed in casual dark suits. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Wufei glanced at a black Monte Carlo parked across the street. It looked terribly familiar. Turning to the blonde sitting next to him, he blinked and asked, “ ’Fei, do you recognize that car?”
Wufei glanced in the rearview mirror as the Monte Carlo pulled out to follow them. “Actually, I do recognize that car. You think it was following us last night?”
Quatre nodded grimly. “Let’s take him for a ride, ’Fei.”
The Chinese man grinned as he quickly served off down a side alley he knew looped around to the main intersection three quarters of a block away. “You got it, Quat.”
Neither of the young men were surprised when the Monte Carlo pulled off to follow them down the narrow, shadowed alley. Wufei slowed the sedan to almost a crawl as they rounded a corner, then floored it to make the straight stretch to the light. Quat grinned, hearing the rubber tires squeal and smoke against the slick asphalt and feeling the quick jolt of acceleration jar his limbs. “I love this car. It’s always got plenty of pickup.”
Wufei’s driving skills were admirable as he pivoted and swerved around other cars and obstacles to get a few car lengths ahead of the Monte Carlo. However, he was having difficulty gaining. The Monte Carlo’s driver was also skilled in maneuvering and managed to keep up with him, move for move.
“Shit, Quat. This might get a little rough.” Wufei braced himself as the two cars roared up the street which was quiet at this time of mid-morning. He swerved a sharp left that lifted the car up so it was driving on only two wheels. The two young men whooped as the car came back down on the car with a dull crashing noise and squealed around the corner, cheering in triumph when they saw the Monte Carlo go rushing past the alley’s entrance at a breakneck speed.
Breathing heavily, Wufei guided the car into an empty parking garage and cut the engine. “Bet’cha he won’t be bothering us for a while.”
“Damn straight,” Quatre agreed, clapping Wufei’s shoulder. “Good job, ’Fei. I owe you my ass for that one.”
*~*~*
Zechs cursed as the black sedan swung out of view, hitting the brakes and backing up as fast as he could without hitting anything and going down the alleyway. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t find any sign of the sedan he’d been tailing. It was liked it’d just disappeared into nothingness.
He was also kicking himself inside for having lost his cool and gone chasing after them like that. He shouldn’t have gone after the car. Instead, he should have tailed them quietly back to their boss’s headquarters, waiting for his chance to get inside. “Oh well,” he murmured to himself. “Should’a, could’a, would’a. Time to go visit Noin.”
Taking his little cell phone out of his pocket, he quickly dialed Noin’s private number. She answered after three rings, sounding groggy, “Noin here.”
“Hey, lovely,” he said with a hint of mirth in his voice. “You sound so well-rested.”
“Go to hell, Zechs,” the blue-haired woman retorted irritably. Then she asked, “What’re you calling for?”
“I just got done chasing Chang and Blondie. Have any info on me about Relena?”
“Yea, I do. Treize used her again last night, rough. As usual I was the one to ‘clean up the mess.’ I swear to God, that man ought to rot in hell for what he does to that girl.”
Zechs’s silence spoke volumes about the depth of his rage about hearing about his baby sister being raped. After a few minutes, he said in a strained voice, “Any hope of getting her out, Noin?”
Tiredly, Noin rubbed her eyes. Zechs had asked her this question a thousand times before which she’d answered a thousand times. She replied the same way this time. “No.”
Zechs hung up the phone, looking morose and hanging his head in shame. Father, forgive me. If only things weren’t the way they were. If only…
~TBC~
Kira Maxwell
KiraxMaxwell@msn.com