Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Devil And Demon ❯ Aftermath ( Chapter 4 )

To Ryoko-onee:

Thanks for the huge complement - hearing that someone really felt what I was trying to convey really is the biggest compliment an author could get. Thanks again!

 

To pryzm:

Here's more!

 

To nita-sama:

Well, read and find out! I'm still not quite sure where to go with the Devil - he'll probably have to vanish at the end of the story. But until then, it still is a long way!

 

________

 

A/N:

I'd like to thank Anissa for making time in her busy schedule to help me with this chapter. She's doing a superb job!

 

 

~oooOoooOoooxxxxxxxxxxxxoooOoooOooo~

 

 

Aftermath

 

 

Lounging in his chair, Wufei angrily stared at the white ceiling. After that fiasco of last night, Maxwell had decided to take him to one of Winner's safe-houses, not believing that Wufei could handle going back to the tiny motel room he shared with Zechs. Oh, pardon, the Devil had decided. Just what the hell was up with Maxwell, something like split personalities? And that Duo of Hell crap?

 

Angrily, he plucked at the bandage on his neck covering the bite-wound from both Maxwell and Yuy. Maxwell had insisted on patching him up immediately afterwards, and he had still been too out of it to protest. The stinging pain of disinfectant cleaning out his wounds had even felt disgustingly good. Oh, but now, he was in complete command of his mental faculties. And they would pay. Not for the dressing-his-wounds part - Maxwell had actually done a pretty good job on that - but for not telling him what was going on.

 

They were two very prominent names in the scene. Devil and Demon. Domination and seduction. And he was the one who had been caught in their clutches.

 

Damn them. Damn the mission for having made that distraction necessary. Hunters. That was what they were. Ruthless and cold predators. And he had been prey. Damn them.

 

Why couldn't they just have taken somebody else? Why did it have to be him? Yes, they had told him their reasoning, and he had agreed because of it, but still…

 

Damn himself for actually enjoying it. He had sworn to himself that he would never submit to anybody again after he was forced to kill his former Master. OZ-general Treize Kushrenada. Oh, and Maxwell would pay for making Wufei call him `Master'. There had been nothing voluntary about that, nothing like with Treize. For Kushrenada, it had been a game, a favorite pastime. At least, it had felt like it.

 

Now, he was not so sure anymore. Fire had been a well-established name in the scene, evidence for serious dedication. Why had Treize never said anything about it? But no the `Little Dragon' had not been deemed ready. And thinking about it, Treize had been right. Which did not make it better in Wufei's eyes.

 

“What'cha thinkin' `bout?”

 

Damn Maxwell for sneaking up on him. “Nothing.”

 

“Well, nothing seems to make ya pretty grumpy. Sure `t is not `bout last night?”

 

Damn Maxwell for being so perceptive. Angrily, he barked at the figure leaning against the door frame: “Yes, I'm sure. Now, shut up and leave me alone!”

 

To his not-so-great surprise, Maxwell strolled in and draped himself over a chair, dropping some of his `bumbling-fool-attitude. “There is no shame in letting go sometimes, Wuffers. During the war, I was really glad you found Fire, because you seemed more and more uptight and ready to explode any second. Before you say anything, let me finish. Why did you go back to him if you didn't like what he did with you? Nobody forced you to. Is it so hard for you to admit that you can't be strong all the time?”

 

He had of course only gone back to Treize because of that thrice-cursed promise of that damn `night of trust' he had been succored into. Nothing like that `not being strong all the time' crap Maxwell was trying to feed him.

 

An especially vivid memory of one of those failed `nights of trust' rose, and as he was struggling not to let it overwhelm him, he didn't see that Maxwell was watching him intently.

 

Strong hands running along his body, manacles forcing him to stay still. A needle. Carefully threaded through the upmost layer of skin on his hand so that it never went deep enough to cause any pain. It was a foreign body that did not hurt but was clearly noticeable. A mouth whispering against his ear. “I'm going to free you, but you will stay exactly where you are.”

 

Shivers running down his spine, pooling in his groin without his consent. A heavy blindfold taking away his sight, making all his other senses that much sharper to compensate for that dangerous handicap. His hands were free again, and he knew he could be out of there within a few seconds. But he stayed, bound by his promise, waiting for the pain that was going to be inflicted on him, and that made it so much harder. “Shh, no need to fear, little Dragon. You will enjoy it.”

 

Through the promise, Treize had kind of forced him to participate, but during all their times together, he had never forced himself onto Wufei.

 

The strong hands once again, running down his sides until they stopped at his hips. “Perhaps you need some incentive to stay…”

 

Treize had rather cajoled and made offers that were almost impossible to say `no' to.

 

Long fingers were wandering across his groin and downwards, spreading his thighs slightly in the process. A carefully lubed digit slipped into his anus, joined by more some time later, although they never went for this prostate, just deep sensations that he was familiar with by now. He was stretched quite thoroughly in an almost clinical manner. But that realization sent a tremor of anticipation through his strangely needy body, and immediately, a strong arm pinned him down. A hot whisper hissing against his ear. “If you move again, I will leave. Now, be still!”

 

But beneath all the gentleness, Treize had had a core of steel. Perhaps that had been Fire shining through, even if Wufei hadn't been aware of it at that time. And, no matter how honor-bound he had been, Wufei had sensed that core of steel from his enemy at least on some subconscious level and responded accordingly with more tension.

 

He had almost decked Treize for the unexpected closeness. Not even daring to nod, he exhaled slowly, trying to calm his twitchy nerves to not end the evening prematurely with serious injuries. The arm across his groin vanished and a soft caress breezed over his cheek. “You are a good little Dragon. Brace yourself and make sure you don't move.”

 

The fingers that had been working steadily inside him slowly retreated, spreading his entrance as wide as possible. It was rather uncomfortable, but he bore the feeling stoically. Now, something thick pushing against him. It was cool, so it couldn't be Treize's cock. It slowly, oh so slowly was pushed in, making him feel every inch as it went in. Trying to distract his mind away from this maddeningly slow pace, he just barely suppressed an involuntary bucking of his hips. Somehow, he had trouble with completely controlling his body's reactions.

 

But he supposed that was what Treize was aiming for - his loss of control. By the end of the night, he probably would be almost incoherent from pleasure, something he was not sure was a good thing. What if he involuntarily gave away war-relevant information?

 

Treize's steady murmuring distracted him from his musings. “Shh, relax, it's almost in, almost there, only a few centimeters, you're doing great, relax. Almost in, almost, just a little bit longer. Now, hold still.”

 

A slight wrenching sensation as the plug inside him was turned.

 

Stars exploded behind his eyes. Unbearable pleasure shooting through his veins. A little knob of the dildo was resting against his prostate, digging in to inflect merciless pleasure. He couldn't help but gasp, and his legs twitched, but it didn't seem to anger Treize. Instead, he was held tightly, feeling Treize's arm across his hips reassuringly steady.

 

Treize's voice again. “I think you will have to wear a cock ring so that it won't be over too soon.”

 

And Treize had known exactly how to make him shiver from pleasure. Perhaps it had been the mind-blowing sex that had drawn him back to the OZ-general over and over again. It certainly had been an excellent source of release, somehow much more satisfying than simply jerking off.

 

No. If it hadn't been for his promise, he wouldn't have gone back. Too much risk involved.

 

Almost a wince from him at the thought of having his erection bound, but he remembered that he wasn't allowed to make a sound. Gathering his self-control, he kept still. Careful, warm hands surrounded his member, pushing a restraining ring over it in one smooth motion, making sure that his testicles were bound as well.

 

“That should be enough to keep you from coming too early. Remember: That dildo in your cute little butt is not something to relief yourself with. I do not want you to go over the edge before I tell you. And one more thing: I want you to feel the pain. I know, you have been taught to resist even strong torture, but today, I simply want you to feel. Feel the point where pain and pleasure become one. And remember how you got there. You are utterly vulnerable, and yet you stay here. Out of your own free will. If you move, I will stop immediately, so it is in your hand.”

 

As it was, he had had to spend several painfully pleasurable hours in Treize's company, and towards the end of the war, their relation had gone more and more out of control. He had actually found himself starting to trust his enemy, and that sadly had been the worst development possible. The war had had to come first.

 

“I have always wondered what you would look like with a nipple piercing.”

 

So that was what the needle was for. A shiver of anticipation with a little bit of instinctive fear of pain crawled over his skin, and he automatically made plans for what to tell Maxwell or Winner if they should happen to see him wounded in such a place. He had to force himself to hold still when he felt Treize rub his left nipple with cold alcohol. The little piece of skin pebbled almost immediately, and he heard Treize chuckle. “So responsive, my little Dragling… Now, brace yourself.”

 

A sharp point trailing slowly over the sensitive nub, making him tense in anticipation. The muscles around the dildo in his ass clenched slightly, pressing it harder into his prostate, and he gasped at the pleasure shooting through him, pooling in his cock without release. A strong, gloved hand finally came down to hold his nipple while the needle stilled and pressed down, slowly increasing the pain. He shivered, knowing that Kushrenada would draw it out as long as possible.

 

In that respect, Treize and Devil were similar. They both were able to draw responses from him he never wanted to admit. But besides that, they were as different as day and night. Where Treize had always given him a choice, cajoling the strangest reactions out of his body, the Devil had ruthlessly beat down on him and forced him to do whatever he wanted. That was why he currently was so angry with the Devil - and afraid of him.

 

Yes, he admitted to being afraid of the Devil. If only one of the OZ-soldiers during the war had been in the league of the Devil, the war would probably have ended differently. It had taken the Devil only two hours to reduce him to a brainless puddle that would eagerly have told any secrets if asked. The Devil had been excruciatingly serious in his actions, working methodically to make him loose control.

 

With Treize though, there had always been the aspect of a game, something to be enjoyed. But, still, there had always been a little bit of fear involved because those games had made Wufei vulnerable to his enemy. And during a war, that never was a good thing.

 

New sparks in his groin were kindled when the shiver reached the dildo, and he had to fight to stay relaxed, although that seemed to have an adverse effect. The more he fought to relax, to let sensations swamp over him, the more tense he grew and the more difficult it became to hold still. The needle at his nipple stilled suddenly, and a warm whisper caressed his skin. Fear that he had done something to dishonor his promise coursed through his body before Treize's words sunk into his brain. “Shhh, relax, take it slowly. Inhale deeply.”

 

He did as told, afterwards pushing all the tension out together with the air in his lungs. Having gained back at least a little bit of control over himself, he watched Treize smile at the sight of him lying there unmovingly, completely at his mercy. But soon, tension returned to his limbs as the needle gradually started piercing deeper, sending an ache trough him that demanded forcibly that he moved.

 

“Whatever you're thinking about, it must be a good memory…”

 

Inhaling sharply, he focused on Maxwell who was pointedly looking towards Wufei's groin in turn. An unholy fury exploded in his throat at Maxwell's not-so-subtle implication. How dare Maxwell presume such banal motivations for his stay with Treize? That man had been worthy of respect, not such crude insinuations!

 

Wufei's previously hot anger had boiled down to an icy cold rage that made him grip the arm-rest of the chair so hard that his fingers threatened to crack the wood. Hissing through his teeth in absolute fury, he barely restrained himself from doing anything physical to Maxwell.

 

“Get out of here NOW and don't come back anytime soon or you won't like what I am going to do to you!”

 

Maxwell rose elegantly, but slowly enough to make Wufei grind his teeth. He then sauntered out of the room in a manner that was just one step short of outright provocation. Just before he left, Maxwell threw a last airy comment over his shoulder.

 

“Whatever floats your boat…”

 

Trembling from suppressed rage, he barely kept himself from ripping Maxwell's throat out right then and there.

 

Only when the door had been closed for several minutes and he'd had some time to cool off did he realize that he had exploded with almost no reason at all. He had made a damn fool out of himself because Maxwell couldn't have known he had been thinking about Treize.

 

Damn Maxwell, damn the Devil, damn the Demon.

 

Damn them all for throwing him so out of control.

 

~oooOoooOoooxxxxxxxxxxxxoooOoooOooo~

 

Knocking several times, Duo opened the door and immediately felt the inquisitive stare resting between his shoulders. Nonetheless, he carefully shut the door behind him again before facing an expectant Heero.

 

“I was talking to Wufei.”

 

A raised eyebrow asked for further details, and Duo let himself plop into an arm chair.

 

“He's got trouble accepting that he enjoys being submissive. I think it's got something to do with Fire, but I'm not sure. Maybe you can talk to him later. The Devil seems to put him on the defensive, and he refuses to really listen to me. He also seems really thrown for a loop there. He blew up at me with me hardly doing a thing. Him unstable is the last thing we need right now. Can you do something about that?”

 

Heero nodded. “I will try.”

 

“Thanks. If you can't do anything else - please try to keep him in one piece until the mission's over. We need him. Say, what did you get last night? I was too busy with getting Wu-man and me home in one piece. I swear, after that show, everybody in the whole fuckin' club wanted to have a piece of him. You know how many I had to beat off him with a stick? Too god-damn fuckin' many.”

 

Sporting one of his rare, small smiles that were entirely genuine, Heero commented. “And the Devil enjoyed that, I'm sure. Both of us know that Fire took in only the best and most exquisite ones. He had a good hand for picking them out wherever he went. And the Little Dragon would have become his master piece if he'd had enough time. But enough of that. I am sure Quatre has already told you about the UESN-officer who is trying to find out the real identity of Devil and Demon.”

 

“Yeah. I thought you just wanted to find out who's watching us so that we know who we're dealing with? Why the hell did you have to bring him here?”

 

“His name is Pierce Berns. He was piecing too much together. I only would have had a serious talk with him about the camera in our motel room, but the Owner practically told me to get rid of him. Perhaps because he wants to see what our attitude towards authorities is. By the way, I got a better look at Brunswig's office. There was no real evidence. A list of names, several letters, and half a gram of grass. Not nearly enough for a sound trial - except for minor drug-possession.”

 

Duo snorted. “Let me guess: the names are all legal customers, and the letters are worded so carefully that they could be business letters as well. Damn. Did you get access to a computer?”

 

“The one in his office. Strictly business. If there's anything, it's somewhere else with no network connection to the one in the office.”

 

“Crap. Then we've got to do it the hard way, don't we? The Owner already suspects us, and we've got to get him to admit us to his underground ring AND tell us where the hell the previous team's vanished to. Shit, double and thrice. Now you have to talk to Wu-man, it's important that we keep up the show. And that god-damned police officer could choose no better time to find us, could he?”

 

“Winner has him sedated for the moment.”

 

“But we've got to deal with him sooner or later. It's no good if UESN officers start disappearing all of a sudden. Any ideas?”

 

“Maybe. If we can get him to agree to help us, we might also be able to get the Owner off our backs.”

 

“What exactly did the Owner tell you?”

 

“He didn't say anything to me, rather to Berns: 'Enjoy it as long as you can. He doesn't like people who know more about him than he wants them to know. To be honest, I can understand him. I don't like people who sneak around to gather information about me, either.' If that wasn't a warning…”

 

“Well, I think he knows about Berns, but only suspects about us. Do you know into how much trouble we can get if Berns doesn't play along? We've already kidnapped a UESN Police Officer, and if he presses charges… But if he agrees, it just might work.”

 

“I have downloaded a copy of his personality file. If we play the right cards, it is very likely that he agrees.”

 

“Yeah, but how long until he agrees? You know, we ain't got all the time in the world, remember, the previous team? Those two are only god knows where by now - if they aren't dead yet. We've got to find them as soon as possible, and then we've got a slave ring to bust!”

 

“It has been exactly 12.8 days since they have been seen the last time. They are Preventer Agents and know how to deal with such situations.”

 

“It took only 15 days for the Devil to be born!”

 

That one quickly shut Heero up with an embarrassed silence.

 

Duo sighed, trying to change the topic from this awkward one. “Well, let's tell Q-man that he can let our sleeping beauty wake up. The sooner we talk to him, the sooner it's going to be over. Oh, and maybe, he and Tro should be there, too. If nothing else, then to keep the Devil from…”

 

He broke off to see Heero frown at him. He amended. “It's not like I can let Sam and Bartch rot in there. We need the Devil to pull this one off!”

 

Heero was still frowning. “And how long until he takes you over completely? I've been watching you the past few days. He's never left you completely, has he? Don't try to deny it.”

 

Looking to the floor, Duo did not respond. When he looked up once again, he was not Duo anymore.

 

“Any problems with that?”, asked the Devil.

 

Heero's eyes glinted dangerously, the Demon partially roused. “Duo is mine. When we are done, I want him back.”

 

The Devil stared at him with a calculating gleam in his eyes, trying to establish how serious he was about his demand. Finally, he sneered. “We will see.”

 

Blinking several times, Duo's eyes were once again clear from the Devil's influence. Apologetically smiling at Heero, he got up and stretched. “Well, we'd better inform the others, get some thorough reading done, and then talk to Berns. Coming?”

 

Nodding wordlessly, Heero followed Duo. For how long would the Devil relinquish control?

 

~oooOoooOoooxxxxxxxxxxxxoooOoooOooo~

 

“Wake up. Now!”

 

Groaning, he tried to get rid of the demanding voice that cut into his brain like a hot wire. But the voice stayed, and finally, he opened his eyes. Then, all of a sudden, the previous events came back to him, and he abruptly sat up. “Wh… What do you want with me?”

 

The Demon was staring down at him, a malicious smirk playing around the edges of his mouth. But as soon as it had appeared, it was gone again, leaving a cold, emotionless mask and a monotone voice demanding that he got up. Surprised at the change, Berns followed the Demon without protesting at all to the next room. When the door opened, he had to blink at the brightness of the sun shining through huge glass panes to illuminate four people seated around a small coffee table. To his amazement, he recognized most of them. On the chair facing the door they had just come through, there was the Devil. He had shed his flashy outfit for a long black robe with a white collar. A priest's garb?

 

Startled, he realized that the Devil wore indeed robes, even a golden cross was dangling from his neck. To the left side of the Devil, there was the scowling Dragon in sweats and t-shirt, seated in a chair directly in front of the window. Several bandages showed on his bare arms, proof of the injuries he had sustained the day before. Opposed to his show in the Club, he now wore his hair tightly pulled back into a short ponytail, giving him a very stern appearance.

 

On the couch that was flooded by sunlight, two other men sat. To his amazement, he recognized the taller one of them as the cab driver who had threatened him with a gun. The long, brown bangs falling into an androgynous face were a dead giveaway. Next to the cab driver, there was a blond, snuggled into the shoulder of the former. The blond also seemed familiar, but Berns couldn't remember where he had seen him before.

 

Silence permeated the room while everybody was staring at him. The Demon roughly guided him to a third chair whose back was facing the door, forcing him to sit down. Afterwards, the Demon took a seat next to the cab driver, within easy reach.

 

Very uncomfortable with the situation, Berns shifted on his chair, wondering what was going to come next. Judging from the tough look of those men, his lack of restraints was due to the fact that they could easily overwhelm him, not to any benevolence on their part. He had no clue where he was or who the five were, but he knew that at least three of them were heavily into BDSM. And that all of them were silently looking at him was not making him feel any more at ease. He rather felt cornered, taken apart under the scrutinizing stares.

 

Finally, he was so nervous that he couldn't help but break the humming tension: “What do you want from me?”

 

The blond looked about to say something, but the cab driver shushed him with a quick look. Then, the cabbie asked in a cool voice that seemed almost disinterested. “Why are you so insistent on finding out the identities of Devil and Demon?”

 

So all of them knew that he was a police officer. Not good. He briefly wondered why the cabbie talked about Devil and Demon as if they were not there, but for the moment, he was too occupied trying to find a way not to get killed. Gathering his thoughts, Berns was ready to defend his case - hopefully in a way that he would live to see the next day.

 

“My original plan was to run a thorough background check on them to find out who made them the way they are now. For crying out loud, they can't have been older than 13 or 14 when they appeared in the Scene.”

 

“12.”

 

Bern's head shot up to look at the Devil who was practically lounging in his chair. Confused, he stuttered. “What…?”

 

The Devil nodded. “I was 12 when I visited my first club.”

 

A dark shadow fell onto the Devil's face, making him look years older than he actually was. But then, all of a sudden, the somber attitude vanished to be replaced with a manic grin that exuded only marginally more happiness than the first expression. Berns blinked a few times, too shocked at the severity of the situation to remain as cool and level-headed as he needed to be. It was already going downhill.

 

Croaking, he managed to spit out: “That is what I try to prevent. That other people have to suffer like you have. Please tell me: who did this to you?”

 

The manic grin vanished all of a sudden, and the Devil leaned forwards, fixing his stare onto Berns. “Has it ever occurred to you that we might have agreed to being … trained?”

 

Without thinking about it, Berns sputtered: “But… but you were just … kids then!”

 

A small chuckle escaped the Devil's lips. “Back then, we were no more children than we are today. We chose becoming like this on our own volition. Do not forget that. And as to those who `did this to us' - at that point of time, it was necessary. If they hadn't taught us what we know today, we would not have survived. We would have been dead five years ago. But do not worry. They will never be able to do that to anybody else. We made sure of that.”

 

Berns reeled back at the deadly glint in the Devil's eyes, fearing that his life was forfeited now. That was a killer sitting opposite him, a merciless henchman without remorse. And, if he looked around a bit closer, the others also had a steely, hardened core that shone through eyes which had seen far too much. More than anybody should have to endure. Those eyes looked … old…

 

“Stop it. You are scaring him”, the blond interrupted the staring match. Berns was very grateful for that, although he did not want to admit it to himself. He had to keep his wits together to somehow come out of this mess in one piece, and the way the conversation had been going so far was just a few inches from worst case.

 

Apparently, the Devil seemed willing to let the blond speak his mind because he motioned with a hand to go on. Leaning forwards and focusing on Berns, the blond tried to diffuse the tension. “So, if I have understood everything correctly, you, Officer Berns, are trying to find the people who abused the Devil and the Demon as children. Correct?”

 

Berns nodded, and the blond continued. “You have been tracking them for close to three years, trying to find out their identity. Lately, you have been spying on them in their motel room with a hidden camera and monitored them personally at the club. I would say, this behavior is kind of obsessive. Why do you go to such lengths?”

 

Berns swallowed and looked down at his hands, trying to hide how frantically he was thinking about what to say. Honesty or a strategically placed lie? But would a lie be so much more conducive for his situation? Partial honesty? How much did they know about his past?

 

His time was running out, and he did not want to anger them by making them wait too long for an answer, but he just didn't know…

 

It seemed that his mouth decided for him to tell the truth, together with all the emotion he wanted to forget. “I don't want any other children to suffer like… I… my…”

 

That memory was still a sore spot with him, not one day going past that he didn't think of her and what had happened to her. He did not want to bare this much of his soul to them, but now he had committed himself to this course of action, it would be suicidal to back down. Taking a deep breath, he started the story. “Eight years ago… I was married, had a wonderful wife and daughter… Eight years ago, I came home and…”

 

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back in the arm-chair that was surprisingly comfortable. He did not want to see their reactions. “They were… gone. Not there. At first, I thought, they had gone out, but they didn't come home that night. I informed the police - no hints of struggle… no sign of where they'd gone, either. They did everything to find them, but nothing. Then, a month later… I was called into identify… There was so much blood… my wife Lydia… dead… and our daughter…”

 

Swallowing hard, he tried to ignore the silent tears that ran over his face. “They had found them together, Sari locked into a cell together with… the body of my… Sari must have been alone with her for… several days… Both of them had been… used… repeatedly - Sari… she was only 9 years old, how could… She's in a mental institution; she's never recovered… Still starts screaming as soon as she hears or sees a man… “

 

He just couldn't continue anymore because his throat felt as if he was being strangled, the pain still as fresh as on the first day. How much more did they want to hear? He just couldn't…

 

When he felt a soft hand on his knee, he startled, hastily drying his tears with the back of his hand. A surprisingly gentle voice accompanied the friendly touch. “No need to elaborate, Mr. Berns. I am sorry we had to conjure up bad memories, but we needed to be sure whether your files are telling the truth. I feel deeply sorry for your losses, and I regret putting you through this nightmare again.”

 

Surprised, Berns could only nod, still fighting to get those pictures out of his mind. Finally succeeding, he looked up again, and found out that he was being watched with something akin to … understanding.

 

No. That was not it. It was more like … knowing what he had gone through, but having experienced losses just as great themselves. An old stare filled with wisdom far beyond their ages.

 

Suddenly, the Devil asked a quiet question with seemingly no connection to their previous conversation. “How much do you know about turning pain into pleasure?”

 

Strangely though, the question was not accompanied by the maniac expression and personality the Devil was famous for. Now, the Devil looked like a simple teenager, only more tired and worn out. Was this the look of someone who had survived what Sari had not?

 

The Devil was slouched in his chair, and a pair of stunningly violet eyes rested calmly on Berns, void of menace, but filled with regret and sadness. Apparently, only the Demon knew what he was hinting at because he looked slightly alarmed at first, but then nodded almost imperceptibly. The others merely had an air of concerned curiosity around them, looking from Berns to the Devil and back again. The passitivity with which the question had been asked was the only thing that kept Berns from shouting a negative response, but he was highly alert.

 

“Why?”

 

“You have been searching the scene for more than three years. I am sure you know how things work by now. But have you experienced them for yourself?”

 

Bern's frown grew deeper, put on the defensive by the seemingly innocuous question. “What do you want from me? To admit that deep in my heart, my urges are dark and rotten? Or that I am some completely inexperienced prude?”

 

To his surprise, the Devil smiled slightly and shook his head. “No. I just want to know if you are able to understand us. Tell me, how do you feel about the death of your wife? Sad? Angry? Do you want revenge?”

 

A small pause was building up while Berns was reflecting on the question, trying to keep himself collected. The tone of voice had made it impossible to not think about the question, even when he rather wanted to get out of there instead of holding a nice little chat. When he didn't answer, the Devil continued. “Without this experience, would you have become such a good police officer?”

 

Startled, Berns studied the slender form of the Devil again. Finally, he asked: “What are you trying to tell me?”

 

“Mr. Berns, you have always been a good police officer, but after that traumatizing event, you have become completely dedicated to your work. You have solved more crimes during the first year afterwards than in your whole career beforehand. Once you get a case, you never let it go until the perpetrators are punished. And all of that has been caused by the suffering of your wife and daughter. Do you still want to tell me that it was a bad thing? Shouldn't the public be glad that they died?”

 

Completely dumbfounded, Berns couldn't do anything else but stare at the Devil, who was completely serious with a shadow of pain lurking behind his eyes. He was gaping like a fish, trying to find the right words. “But… I would have also… Why did they have to…? I would have also put so much effort into my work if they were still with me…”

 

“Really? Would you? Would you work so much over time if you knew your family was waiting for you? Would you delve so deeply into the scene if you had a home to return to? Only somebody who has experienced this pain himself can understand what other people are going through. Think about that, and about what you know about us. Then, maybe, you will understand.”

 

A deep frown played on Bern's face. “Let's say that it is true what you say, then where does that leave you? I doubt that you want to tell me that only a master who has endured pain before can be a real master?”

 

The slight smirk spreading on the Devil's face told him he was right, so he continued. “So there has to be something else. But what is there that a master and a switch like you two can do?”

 

This time, the Demon answered. “Go where nobody else can. Even as good as you are, the Owner knew you were not one of them. That was what his warning said.”

 

“Do you want to tell me that you are spies?”

 

The Devil shook his head and teased. “Close, but no. Did you know that part of the Owner's warning was also intended for us? He already is suspicious about us, and you haven't made the situation any easier. Say, do you have anyone who would follow you out of the club?”

 

Frowning, Berns mouthed off. “Who says I'll answer your question?”

 

The cab driver did not bat an eyebrow, interjecting his comment into the flow of interrogation without a hitch. “That means no. So the tail from last night was someone the Owner had hired.” After a small but meaningful pause where the Dragon looked ready to say something but kept his quiet, the cabbie added towards Devil and Demon: “Are you sure you have not been compromised?”

 

Shrugging, the Devil waved a hand. “If we'd blown our cover, we wouldn't have gotten a warning. We would've had guns shoved up our collective asses instead of being allowed to deal with him on our own.”

 

Berns felt a cold layer of sweat break out on his forehead at the careless gesture in his direction. Who in the world were those two? And the other three, he doubted that they were innocent either, although none of them had said much. They were no spies, but what else could they be to consider being threatened with a gun, and, more importantly, not fear it?

 

The blond intervened with a calming aura, something for which Berns was very glad. He did not like the way this was going at all. “So why don't we let him go?”

 

Tensing, he tried to get a feel for group dynamics, trying to anticipate their reactions to sway them in his favor. He felt that this was at a crucial point, and he would give almost anything to be able to influence their decision. But for the moment, he would have to be content with simply observing, biding his time. On a surface level, interactions between his five captors seemed simple enough with the Devil and Demon as leaders, the Dragon probably still in shock from last night, and the other two something along the line of housemate or hired help. The longer he was watching though…

 

The Demon answered as if Berns was not in the room. “Just letting him go would look suspicious after the warning we have just received.”

 

Nodding, the Devil turned suddenly towards Berns, an evil leer on his face which contrasted harshly with the priest's robes. “Now we are back to my first question. How much do you know about turning pain into pleasure?”

 

Sweat started gathering on his upper lip, unnerved by how fast the focus of conversation had switched back to him. To his mounting unease, Berns was getting an idea of what Devil and Demon wanted to do with him. This was the Devil that was flocked by hundreds of admires in the club, and the Demon, although physically still seated on the couch, was right behind the Devil.

 

Both the Devil and the Demon were staring at him, the former with an out-right scary grin, the latter completely cold and unfazed as if he was judging dead meat. The Dragon and the cab driver stayed neutral, but the surprisingly familiar blond turned his head back and forth between the three of them with a frown on his open face. Was this the undercurrent he had sensed?

 

Tension was mounting, the Devil and Demon's auras filling the room until he felt like he was being smothered by them. Finally, the blond interrupted the tension in a decisive tone of voice. “Stop it you two. I think you have scared him enough. Contrary to popular belief, I am not completely innocent, and I have heard enough about the two of you. But as uncivilized you might be, as big is our problem. We do not want to hurt you, Mr. Berns, but you do understand the necessity that the two keep their cover, don't you?”

 

The blond's role apparently was that of a mediator, trying to keep the situation under control by diplomatic means. The last sentence though was unnerving enough, showing where the blond's loyalties lay.

 

Finally, Berns decided that they would do with him whatever they pleased, with or without his consent. He would not make the situation worse by answering true to his ideals. “If I knew the reason for them hiding, I would perhaps cooperate more fully. But I do not support smugglers or thieves.”

 

That drew a harsh laughter from the Devil. “Between the five of us, we have been pretty much all you can imagine. But at the moment, we…”

 

“Quiet!”

 

Grudgingly, Berns admired the way the blond managed to cut off the Devil with a single word. Perhaps undercurrents were quite a bit stronger than they had first seemed. Who were those guys?

 

Having drawn all attention, the blond continued with a glare at Devil and Demon that dared them to say anything against his decision. “Mr. Berns, I will give you a vidphone-number, and you can talk to the person answering the call. She will answer your questions when you tell her it is important for the further career of the Duo from Hell. Do you agree?”

 

Suspicious of the harmless-sounding offer, Berns nodded slowly, watching the blond write down a very long number. This was not what he had expected. Apparently, group dynamics were not only hard to read but with undercurrents on a whole new level. Devil and Demon seemed to respect the blond, but he didn't think the blond had any authority over them. Judging from what he'd said, the blond hadn't even known about Devil and Demon, but he hadn't been too surprised. The cabby's opinions were accepted of equal value, so he was no henchman, either, like he had first thought. And apparently, all of them knew which vidphone-number the blond was handing out because there was no question on their faces, only various grimaces. A nightmare of complex group interactions.

 

Giving him the number, the blond took him to a vidphone that was placed on a deep wooden shelf hidden in a niche he had completely overlooked, once again daring anybody to say something. The five of them did not leave him alone, but they were far enough away that he didn't feel immediately threatened, and they even started a quiet conversation amongst themselves to give him the illusion of privacy.

 

Not quite believing that he would get off that easily, he punched in the numbers and waited for whoever was going to take the call, always throwing the five of them anxious looks. Ten rings later, he almost hung up again when suddenly the picture of a woman who must have just jumped out of bed appeared. She was frowning when she saw him, asking in a dangerously low voice that belied her rumpled appearance: “Who gave you this number?”

 

Sputtering, it suddenly hit him who she was. What the… “You… you are… Lady Une?!? But…”

 

She interrupted him dangerously low. “But what? I would like to know where you got this number from. It is not in the phone book, so try to think of a better excuse.”

 

Finally, he regained at least part of his wit and saluted her. “Ma'am, Officer Berns at your service.”

 

He thought he heard some sniggering in the background from the direction of the coffee-table, but he ignored it. Almost absently, she returned the salute, which looked quite ridiculous with her dressed solely in a crumpled night gown. Then, one of her eyebrows started wandering from a frown to nearly to her hairline while she was examining him. “Just what were you recently doing, Officer Berns? I hope this is not your uniform”

 

Looking down on himself, he realized that he was still clad in the leather outfit he had worn in the club - luckily leather did not show any stains from last night's activities. Blushing furiously, he managed to answer. “Erh… No, ma'am, this is not… But I have been on an undercover assignment for the last few years, and my fake identity demanded this kind of clothing.”

 

The second eyebrow joined the first one when she commented slightly resigned. “Let me guess. Somehow, you have managed to stumble over the Duo from Hell, and they thought it would be funny to let you call here.”

 

Lady Une knew about the Duo from Hell? Oh, he was in deep shit now. If they had been some thugs, it wouldn't have been as bad, but if Preventers were involved… He was so screwed. “Not exactly, ma'am. My job was to look into the case of sexual abuse of the two minors who call themselves Devil and Demon now. To make a long story short - the owner of the club somehow found out about me and must have tipped them off to see what they are going to do. I fear I have unintentionally endangered their cover. I was told that you could answer my questions as my meeting with Devil and Demon was under less than favorable circumstances.”

 

The frown on her face grew even deeper when she looked somewhere off-screen. “Your call comes from one of the Winner-estates. Please don't tell me that those `less than favorable circumstances' involve kidnapping or threat of bodily harm.”

 

Winner-estate? “Erhm, well…”

 

Did she mean Winner as in Winner Enterprises Incorporated? Then that blond… Winner himself!?!

 

While he was still struggling with his sudden epiphany, he almost didn't catch the exasperated head-shake of Lady Une. “What am I going to do with them… Tell them to come here, pronto. All five of them. I know that they would not have left you unattended through this phone-call.”

 

Gulping, he looked back towards the coffee-table, not quite surprised that they were already getting up and heading towards him. He thought he had been talking quietly, but they still must have heard him. They surrounded him in a semi-circle, all facing Lady Une on the vid screen. She looked from one to the other, finally stopping on the Dragon's bandaged arms with something akin to alarm on her face. “What happened, Chang? Report.”

 

So the Dragon's name was Chang, and if there had been any doubt that Lady Une did not know them, it had been thrown out of the window hereby. The Dragon - Chang - glowered menacingly into the vidphone, clearly not happy about the question. “Calculated risk for the mission, still operable. No enemy action. And it would be beneficial if you kept to our codenames in case he does not want to be quiet.”

 

Une actually looked a little bit embarrassed about that, a facial expression that looked quite out of place on the head of Preventers. “Sorry about that. Gentlemen, I think you have a problem. If there is anything I can do, just say so, but arranging preventive detention or something like that will look suspicious. I fear you are on your own there. Please try to stay within operation statutes of Preventers. Should you have to employ slightly more extreme measures, make at least sure it is consensual. I do not want to find out one day that I am stuck with a law-suit because of illegal behavior of some of my best agents. Do you understand?”

 

The five of them nodded gravely, and Berns had to swallow. He was in really deep shit now. Lady Une's best agents? Those teenagers were top Preventer Agents? Just how desperate were Preventers nowadays?

 

But at least he was sure that he would survive that mess.

 

He almost missed Winner turning the vid unit off, still deeply immersed in his thoughts. Why the hell did he have to stumble onto an active Preventers mission? His own assignment had already gone FUBAR, something hard enough to explain to his boss, but that he had to endanger another mission at that? He would be told off big time, especially as his boss had been looking for a reason to get him thrown out of his division for a long time. Something about working too much being unhealthy and immoral. Interesting attitude for a police captain, but completely real.

 

Damn, how the hell would he dig himself out of that mess? Lady Une's last comment had not been very reassuring. She did not seem to care too much about him, rather about not being sued. Crap.

 

He had thought that Devil and Demon were terrific players, but them being Preventers Agents really blew the top. Simple group dynamics his foot. There he was in the custody of at least four Preventers undercover agents, none of them older than twenty, but all of them tough as nails. And the blond - Winner - probably was affiliated with Preventers, too. Otherwise he would not have made his house so readily available.

 

Taking a deep breath, Berns knew he had all their attention when he finally looked at the blond - Winner. “So, I suppose that I'll have to do whatever you say. What is it?”

 

Winner studied him intensely with a professional look that somehow did not fit to either a power-hungry executive nor a faint-hearted pretty boy. There definitely was more to Winner, but he supposed he didn't really want to know. No one said a word, all of them waiting for the blond's decision, even the Devil.

 

Finally, Winner nodded. “I think it will be enough if you stay here for the duration of the mission. I hate to ask you to not leave the house, but I fear that it is inevitable. But I will provide you with everything to make your stay as comfortable as possible under current circumstances. It's not as if I didn't have the money…”

 

With a self-deprecating smile, Winner trailed off, and Berns could not believe his luck. That sounded more like an invitation than an order, nothing like he had feared. Clearing his throat, he asked: “And how long will that be?”

 

Frowning, the Devil got into his face. “Be happy that you got that offer! You don't think we already trust you, do you? We won't tell you anything until then!”

 

Once again, the blond hissed. “Quiet. If you don't know how to behave - there's the door! And don't come back until you've cooled off!”

 

The Devil glared menacingly at Winner, starting to unfurl himself like a coiled snake, but Winner did not back down. Swallowing, Berns anxiously watched the crackling tension in the room, and he had to admire Winner's guts. The Dragon looked alarmed, the cabbie merely curious. Didn't he sense the tension?

 

The Demon was frowning, lightly touching the Devil on his arm. That made the Devil swivel around as if burned, unleashing his full glare on the Demon who did nothing to back down. Instead, he slowly shook his head. “Calm down. If Quatre thinks we can trust him, we will trust him. Come with me. Let Quatre handle him.”

 

The Devil stared unwaveringly at the Demon for some time, never blinking once. The tension and the level of threat were hair-raising until the Devil closed his eyes and sighed. With that simple move, the situation diffused as quickly as it had erupted, the Devil slumping slightly in on himself. What in the world had that been all about?

 

“Sorry `bout that. Didn't mean it. I think, I'd better leave now before something else happens.”

 

The Demon merely nodded, guiding the Devil out of the room. Completely perplexed, Berns stared at the door the Duo from Hell had vanished through.

 

The Dragon merely snorted and bit out. “I've had enough. If you need me, I'll be in my room.”

 

What in the world was going on? That didn't look like a hardened team of special agents anymore, rather like several arguing teenagers, three of them having apparently left to sulk in private. Was he the reason, or had that been a longer development?

 

The still name-less cabbie placed a hand on the clearly agitated blonde's shoulder. “Let them sort it out themselves. Demon will see to it that they are ok by tonight.”

 

Tonight? Did they actually plan on going back to the club with both the Demon and the Dragon so heavily injured? Either they were crazy, or their mission was that important.

 

Finally, Winner patted his arm. “Well, I am going to show you to your room. There will be a TV and a computer, and if you promise not to contact anybody, I will allow you access to the Net.”

 

Nodding, Berns agreed, very astounded at such generosity. Not even an hour, he had thought he was going to die, and now he was being treated to a luxury stay at one of Winner's houses. What a turn of events. He decided that he should not endanger this trust in him. “Sure, but I wasn't completely alone on my job; Anderson helped me monitor Devil and Demon's bedroom, and he will ask questions as to where I am.”

 

Winner merely smiled. “Don't worry. Better when he asks them because that will make the story more believable. Welcome to my humble summer abode”, he added with a pompous bow.

 

Berns mumbled a stunned `Thank you', still not quite sure what to say. Well, perhaps he could use the time until he was released as the vacation he hadn't taken for years. But it definitely would be an interesting vacation. And afterwards…

 

He didn't even want to think about the dressing down he'd get from his boss. No, he'd use the time to study Devil and Demon very closely. Even if they had denied the possibility, they could have been brainwashed into believing that they had let themselves be conditioned on their own free will. And perhaps they hadn't told the truth about their makers, either. Oh, it would become a very interesting vacation.

 

~oooOoooOoooxxxxxxxxxxxxoooOoooOooo~

 

A/N:

Again some plot-development. People's reactions to the rather crass scene last chapter. I hope they are believable. Any feedback on that would be appreciated. And any comments on Berns are very welcome. I'm still not quite sure what I am going to do with him…

 

Sakiku