Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Preventers: When Vampires Attack ❯ Chapter 9

Amy woke to pain for... what was it... the third consecutive time? This was really getting old fast. In fact, she somehow doubted it was ever new and exciting. She moaned softly and lifted a hand to rub her poor, aching head. And wonder of wonders, her skull did seem to be in one piece! Her night had gotten infinitely better already. Running a weary damage report on the rest of her body, she tried to move her legs. And found she couldn't.

For a brief moment, she panicked, thought she was back at Mikael's. Or worse - that she had never left his company her rescue had only been a dream. Her eyes flashed open with a hoarse yell, only to encounter something too close and too blurry to see. She lashed out and pushed herself away. Dark obsidian eyes finally came into focus, staring back into hers.

Seeing her awake, Wufei smiled wryly and quirked an eyebrow. "And... good morning to you."

Relief washed over her, simultaneously turning every muscle in her body into Jell-O. Glancing down at her legs, she saw that they were intertwined in the sheets of their bed. Looks like someone had a good, restful sleep. But when things got to the down-and-dirty, she was just glad she hadn't had any memorable Mikael-dreams.

Grumbling under her breath, Amy rolled out of bed, turning to a perplexed Wufei as she reached the door. "We start work in an hour. And we both need showers."

Wufei sat up and rested his forearms on his knees, loosely lacing his fingers together. He pursed his lips slightly and watched her go. The bathroom door closed and the pipes started up, feeding water to the tub. In a few moments, the showerhead took over and the dull sound of water hitting flesh reached his ear. The young Dragon sighed and ran a hand back through his silken ebony locks.

If she handles this by distancing herself, no one will be able to help her. She truly will be as helpless as she says she feels. He shook his head and slid his legs off the bed, firmly placing his feet onto the floor. Absently, he flexed his toes, squishing them into the thick carpeting as a yawn cracked his jaw. After she had finally fallen asleep around 11 am, he had kept himself awake, worrying. About her, about the case.

She was too closely connected to these vampires, she and Stacie both. Of course, that was one of the very reasons why Sally Po and Une had assigned them in the first place. But these recent problems had been unforeseen. Why had Amy taken the assignment when she was trying to avoid Mikael? She must have known he wouldn't let her walk into his city without a follow-up.

"Unless.... Unless she didn't know. How could she have known that the Master Vampire was stationed here?" Wufei stared down at his own feet. "But she did know that vampires could be involved in this case. To have consciously avoided vampires for five years and then throw herself into a case where we knew we would be seeing the devils eye-to-eye. . . ." A small blue vein pulsed in his foot. "Did she actually want to check up on them? Conan, perhaps?"

Yes, Conan. Growling softly, he pushed himself to his feet and strode across the room. "And how can we tell that this Conan is any different? Everyone agrees that he's a recluse - hiding from mortals and vampires both. Who knows what shape his mind is in...."

The water stopped with the faraway clunk of pipes. The soft sounds of Amy toweling off reached his ears, eliciting a sigh. Wufei stared at the wall between them resolutely. One more night here. If any more funny business happened, he would send her right back home. UPS her in a bolted steel crate if he had to. Otherwise this case would hurt her more than she could possibly help with it.

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This evening, she had convinced herself to be happy, or at least look it. And, thank God, it worked. Her shower had brought about nothing short of a miraculous transformation, her headache had disappeared once she downed some aspirin, and she had actually felt lighter by the time she was drying off. But Wufei was extremely pensive and withdrawn this morning. He was definitely worried as hell about something; she just hoped that something wasn't her. She'd been fighting the forces of Evil for about seven years now, and she'd be damned before she hit something she couldn't handle.

And Conan…. When she'd called him, like a good girl, to announce that she was leaving for work, he'd protested for all he was worth. Mikael's servants might see her. Amy promised she'd stay with her friends. Mikael could send an entire vampire task-force after them and easily over-power them. Amy reminded him that none of the four of them were any too helpless; with two Fire manipulators, one god of death, and one part-dragon, they made a formidable team. In the end, Conan had sighed and muttered something about her not having changed much, but agreed that she should be safe enough. When they hung up, she wondered if he would be calling his aforementioned `friends' two seconds later.

Now, in the middle of her shift, Amy turned her full attention to her customers. Tonight they seemed to take her superficial cheer at face value, and had already begun to include her in several of their conversations, or what passed for conversation.

"And... and then he looked at me. Just stared. And then I had an itch so I-" The patron, a lawyer by day and a cheerful lush by evening, seemed to lose his train of thought as his drooping eyes fell upon the empty glass in front of him. He made a few mental connections by peering over at his neighbor's full glass. "I'll take another...." His words were slurred and he grinned at Amy.

She shook her head, taking the sticky glass into hand anyway. "You, sir, are sozzled. You really oughtta think of stopping sometime soon."

He pshawed her, waving a hand in dismissal. "Oh, oh, nothin' to worry `bout. Th'wife's home. No cases for awhile." A few unfocused gestures later, he settled back onto his barstool.

Amy smirked wryly, turning to check her stock. If she wasn't careful, this guy would be going through the vodka faster than she could down water. She set the glass on the back counter and bent over behind the bar. She must have bent over too fast because she had to grab hold of the countertop above her to keep from toppling over. For a moment she didn't move; just stared blankly at the bottles in front of her as her head stopped swimming.

"Wouldja look at that." The voice sounded directly behind her. "She still got no ass. Women without curves, what use are ya?"

As suavely as humanly possible, Amy smashed her head on the upper shelf as she started and spun around. Actually, she spun around twice - as her heel slipped up on the perfectly clean floor - before she landed square on her aforementioned butt. Before the shocked silence of the bar could melt into the inevitable laughter, she righted herself and casually leaned against the counter - as much for support as anything else.

It wasn't so much the insult - which she would fight to the bloody end - as it was the speaker's voice. And my, my... wasn't this the week for reunions?

A rather unwelcome customer slipped onto the bar stool across from her. The man's lank 6-foot frame folded over the counter in a rather confidential slouch. Dirty blond hair was gelled up into thick spikes, adding no less than eight centimeters to his height and jutting out over his forehead to throw some interesting shadows over his stylin' shades. At either side of his head, one of a pair of monkey-like ears graced his countenance. Truthfully, they were his only unfortunate feature: the ears, not the face - although Amy would never let him know that.

"Joe.... Long time no see." Play it cool. Wouldn't he just love to see me fall on my ass...again.

The guy only sniggered twice before erupting in a string of all-out howls. Joe seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself - at her expense, of course. Well, she'd fix that. Firmly pressing her lips into a thin white line, she concentrated her best Death Glareâ"¢ on him. If she was lucky, it might singe his eyebrows.

"So, Joe...." If her look couldn't burn him, her tone just might give him a nasty case of frostbite. Heh, heh-heh-heh. "What brings your cheerful puss here?"

To her utmost annoyance, he grinned and affected a careless shrug. "Aw, I figured you guys must miss me. Y'know, wasting away, losing sleep at night and all that. When I heard you were in town, I made time in my busy schedule so we could spend some quality time together."

"Oh, great. I- Wait! You... heard we were in town?" Her ears perked visibly. Now he had her full - albeit puzzled - attention. "We're on a secret case, here. Civilians . . . and street punks . . . aren't supposed to know about this. And what are you doing in Alben anyway? Colorado's a long ways from New York." Amy finally poured the protesting lawyer his drink and slammed the bottle on the counter.

Joe frowned and tilted his head, affecting a pitying expression - quite a feat, seeing as his eyes were hidden behind thick tinted shades. "Buddy, buddy, you forget - I am the Joe Cool."

Amy groaned and buried her face in her hands.

"I slink through the shadows, unseen, undetected, invisible to the naked eye. I live the streets; I run the streets; I am the streets. Ain't no piece of info that bypasses me. What my homies hear, I hear. What my peeps see, I see. What the pigeons drop on-"

"Okay, `Joe Cool'! That's all great." Anything to shut that over-used mouth of his. She shook her head and leaned against the counter again. "So why are you here, oh omniscient street-rat?"

"Hey, are you okay over here?" Damien appeared at her side, first turning a concerned gaze on her, then regarding Joe with a glare that truly threatened to set him ablaze. He extended a hand, planting it on the counter between Joe and Amy. "Everything's alright?"

Amy blinked and shifted away from him. Weird. "It's all good, thanks."

"Ah." Damien still seemed a little unconvinced. "Amy, I need your help with the stock." He nodded toward the backroom. "Our supplies. You know."

Another blink. Then she shrugged and motioned for him to lead the way. Not like she had to discuss anything with Joe anyway.

Damien closed the door behind them and planted himself directly in front of it. Amy crossed her arms and peered up at him from behind her bangs. "You know the stock better than I do, and we both know it. What's up?"

"That guy - you know he's part of the Alben underground? Can you be certain he doesn't work for Mikael?"

The sharp cold of shock sliced Amy's chest. She gaped at him for the .2 seconds it took for her mind to snap back into place. "Y-you said the M-word."

She received a resounding "you're kidding" look for venturing to open her yap. "Please, please, don't tell me that you think there is a vampire in this entire city who doesn't know who Mikael is."

Somewhere, deep inside Amy's brain, something connected with an audible click. Let there be light, and all that. She smiled and grabbed a handful of her own hair, then thrust her cranium against the nearest unoccupied wall. Well... so, all right, not exactly. But she did consider it. Instead, she opted for a collected smile. "You're a vampire." Even she wasn't sure if that was a question or a statement.

That earned her a condescending grin. "And he thought you'd know. Heh, yes, I'm a vampire."

Amy fought the urge to back up a step. She peered into his soft black eyes, intently. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not FedExing me straight back into Mikael's manicured clutches?"

That smooth, rippling laugh bubbled up from his throat. Now she knew why it had sounded so familiar to her three nights ago. A vampire's laugh. It crawled inside you, rubbed against your skin like a sleek kitty-cat. Boy, if she hadn't recognized that, she really had lost her touch.

Now Damien's eyes were intense, depthless as they stared back into her own. "I don't know. Why do you feel safe? You shouldn't."

For all of .2 seconds, Amy searched the room for a weapon of mass destruction, something to protect herself with. But she decided against it. Violence never solved anything, right? Wrong. But that's a whole `nother matter. "I would've been a goner that very first night if you worked for Mikael. As it was, that Karl guy ratted me out soon enough when he happened to recognize me."

But he shook his head. "Politics, vampire and otherwise, go so much deeper than that. That's the sort of logic that will get you killed. But you lucked out in this case. We have a friend and savior in common. And he's been looking out for you every bit as much as Mikael has been."

Somehow, Amy's heart flew up into her throat, where it fluttered frabjously. Even as she beat it down into submission, her joy struggled to jam the darn thing right back up there again. Conan! Boy, was that guy on top of things. Mikael sure would be surprised when he made his move.

"Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about from Joe. And this is the original Joe, not his vampire `twin.'" She reached around him, searching for the doorknob.

Damien nudged her hand away. A thin black eyebrow arched skeptically. "Right, and you can safely assert this? After all, you `knew' I was human, right?"

A flush managed to creep into her cheeks. "He is!" Her voice was a bit more heated than she would have liked, but eh. Save the Academy Award-winning acting for her enemies. "Besides, if anyone's going to be throwing him out, it's gonna be me, okay? That punk has it coming."

He grimaced and shook his head. "Right. Well, just know that you've got back-up here if you need it. But don't you dare go taking any chances, you hear?" Amy wondered just what Conan's orders were regarding that.

When she escaped back to the bar, Joe was still there. Rather, he had relocated himself to sit behind the bar. And apparently, the absence of a bartender didn't keep him from making his own drink. As she approached, he raised his glass and nodded arrogantly. "Martini, shaken not stirred. Excellent establishment, here."

Amy bit back a growl and poked him the nose. Nicely; yes, nicely. "So where were we? Oh yeah.... What do you want here?"

Joe sniffed disdainfully and inspected a nearby bottle of tequila. "You wouldn't understand. It's definitely not to see you again, dork." He threw back his head for a long draught of tequila.

"Checking up on Stacie?" Wait for it.... She wasn't to be disappointed. In precisely 5 seconds, weird gurgling noises issued from his throat before he erupted in a coughing fit. The contents of his mouth geysered out all over the counter and floor. Amy ducked for cover as a grin the size of the Grand Canyon split her face.

Joe jumped up, but slipped on his own drink and went crashing to the hardwood floor. Cackling most evilly, Amy leaned against the counter to watch, but he was already scrabbling to his feet. At length, he drew himself to his full height, setting his jaw defensively. "No! No, I just felt like walking in and seeing what an ugly, lazy bum you are. And I've had my laugh and now I'm leaving."

Amy nodded sagely. "And the fact that Stacie is a stripper here makes no nevermind to you."

His shades fell right off. "Sh-she... she...." Misty hazel eyes glazed right over as he appeared to go into shock. His mouth flapped open and closed for a time.

Being the thoughtful young woman she was, Amy made sure to smear his shades in the puddle on the floor before handing them back. She was dismayed that she had to grasp the countertop once again to maintain her balance as she stood. But by that time, Joe had rediscovered the hinge in his jaw and was able to affect some degree of dignity while snatching his sticky shades from her fingers.

"I don't care, supergeek." He firmly shoved the sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. Amy would have gladly shoved them up his nose. "I'm leaving now anyway. You're already making me nauseous."

For once, she had to agree with him. "Yes, Joe Cool, you do look pretty nauseous."

"Yeah. So I'm leavin'."

Amy waved. "Hey, the door's that way, killer." She pointed across the room to the exit.

"I know that!" He paused at the door to the stage and dining room. "Shut up. It's a detour, you dork."

Suuuuuuure…and now I'd better warn Stacie about her audience. Sighing, Amy mopped up the counter and popped into the backroom, where Damien was opening cases of wine coolers, to ask for her 15-minute break. But she froze in the doorway, silently watching him while his back was to her, remembering the conversation they'd just had - and his revelation about Conan. Suddenly, a cold shiver streaked down her spine. To think that she'd been working right beside someone with a direct link to Conan…. That touched a tender nerve, to think that there was an "inner circle" of sorts with whom Conan had maintained contact. They were good enough to keep in touch with, but not her. She made a mental note to make Conan's life miserable until he explained that.

"Yes?" He never turned around.

Amy started, jumping a good meter off the ground at the unexpected sound of his voice. Of course he knew I was standing here, she berated herself sternly. He's a bloody vampire for crying out loud!

"I- I'm going to take my…. I mean…." She paused as he stood to regard her eye-to-eye. "How long have you known?" She hoped she didn't have to explain herself further.

Luckily, he seemed to understand. "Your second night here, I knew. I am Conan's eyes and ears in Alben; I work here for much the same reason as you and your friends. The first night, I informed him of you and your group. He recognized you from my description, but wouldn't tell me anything more about your connection to him. He charged me with your safety here."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She'd missed Conan all these five years. Now she was practically close enough to reach out and touch him, or at least give him a call whenever she felt like it. And if Mikael had not kidnapped her, she might never have known. That hurt.

"He told me not to." Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, Damien brushed past her to saunter off to serve some customers who had been trying to get their attention. "Take the break you wanted."

But I never actually asked…. Amy stared after him for a moment before slipping out the staff door and hoofing it to the dressing rooms. Gyah! She'd deal with Conan and his infernal secrets later. Right now, she had a sneaking suspicion that Stacie might like to know that Joe was on the loose.

As the Mission Impossible theme song blared in her mind - perhaps that was the reason her headache seemed to be well on its way to making a comeback - Amy burst into the Maxwell's dressing room, ready to warn her friend. Instead, she got a rather unsuspected eyeful of Duo.

Unfazed, Duo flashed her a genuinely friendly smile and resumed hopping into a black g-string. "Hey, Ames. The show's out there, y'know. And the Wu-man's in the next room." He winked and snapped a strap against his lean hip.

"Wufei! You dishonorable-" Wufei's offended snarl wafted over to their ears. Apparently, the walls were fairly thin back here.

"Well, actually I'm looking for Stacie-"

"Oh, well, she'll be onstage in a sec." He strolled toward a small metal clothes rack. "Whaddaya think? Black, black, black, or... green?"

"Thanks.... Black, definitely black." She grinned and ran out, headed for backstage. Of course, on her way by Wufei's door, she couldn't resist a peek. He screamed of dishonor and injustices and chilly drafts as she fled. It was all very rewarding, even if it did make her head pound.

At the end of the hall, a golden shimmer caught her eye. That would be Stacie. The woman was standing on this side of a thick velvet curtain, waiting for her song to come on. Amy trotted up to her, a wry grin doing plenty of mischief to her face. "Stace, you never guess who's here-"

Stacie twisted around to face her, her visage exotic and alien behind thin layers of gold and purple make-up. After a moment, Amy realized that every centimeter of her skin was covered in some kind of golden glitter. What little skin there was that couldn't be seen was veiled behind sparkling golden strips of cloth and several long, graceful lengths of tasseled string that rippled over her body. She gave a dismissive wave of her hand, which brought a majority of the tassels to life. "Amy, I really really can't talk now. I'm on," the dazzling diva whispered. She silently mouthed "Later," and turned her attention to the stage before her.

Amy shook her head, but the voluptuous blonde had already begun her dance, extending one elegant leg beyond the curtain.

"Bah!" Amy sighed and crossed her arms. All she could do was look on as Stacie emerged beneath the stage lights. But if she's gonna meet Joe like this.... This I've got to see! Quite satisfied with the fact that she had tried, Amy sprinted back up the corridor, intent on finding an empty spot in the dining room audience. Now to watch the show - and she didn't mean the one onstage.

Er. . . . Just one thing, first. She flung Wufei's dressing room door open and let out a loud catcall - to the dismay of her headache - before scampering on out to the dining room.

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Wonder what she wanted, Stacie pondered as she slipped into the dim stage lights. Affecting a nearly invisible shrug, she sauntered over to the slick metal pole that dominated the center of the stage. Reaching it, she slowly ran her hands up its smooth length and nestled her cheek against the back of the hand facing her audience. Curling one leg around the pole, she drew that up as well, sending her golden fringe into a gently swaying wave. Once her thigh brushed her sparkling breast, she threw her weight back, clinging to the pole by her leg and opposite hand. The audience was graced with a smoldering look.

Scattered murmurs of appreciation sounded across the room. Perfect. She flashed them a smirk - and their fair share of cleavage - and began to dance.

Working her supple body in subtle yet sensual ways, she let her eyes wander about her audience. It was always nice to know who was getting an eyeful. If there was a stud out and about and all. They were the most fun to play with. Men who worshipped their own bodies needed to be shown the error of their ways. And after she'd had her say, they would worship hers.

And tonight's lineup is . . . Moe of the Beer-belly, Sir Lancelot of the sexy long golden hair and One Eye, Joe Schmoe of the Unfortunate Prostate Surgery, Joe Cool of the Shades, Bob of the Orange- Wait! Joe?? Before she could mask her shock Stacie's hand slipped from its grasp on the pole. In short, her legs flew up (to the great joy of her audience) and she ended up smack on her ass.

Her rapt audience reacted immediately. Soon, the room was filled with gleeful hoots and catcalls. Some of the nearer patrons lunged forward, reaching for her. Stacie screamed fetchingly and began slapping away the bold, alcohol-stained hands which were pawing at her. Damn that Joe!

"Hey, you testos- testis- testosteroni. . . . You punks! Get your nasty-ass hands offa her!!"

As a single unit, the entire audience swiveled to glare at one lone figure - who, ironically enough, had been the cause of all of this. Joe Cool stood boldly silhouetted against the glaring stage lights, his chest somehow puffed up to twice its normal size - which still made it look capable of being snapped like a twig. Ostensibly unimpressed, the patrons exchanged a collective glance. Then they lunged at him.

A woman screamed - or maybe it was Joe.... Anyway, in one smoking instant, he abandoned his stand and streaked out the door with the over-excited audience snapping at his heels. Stacie suddenly found herself very alone. Well, almost.

"Hey, Stacie! Guess who's here! Joe! Imagine that!" Amy pulled away from the protection of the wall and headed for Stacie.

Dazed, the glittering woman rose to her feet where she had to grab onto the pole to maintain her balance. "Gee, thanks," came the dry reply.

Amy perched her sweet self on the edge of the stage, keeping an eye on the door. "Well, I tried to warn you, but did you listen? Noooooooo. . . ."

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