Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Empire of Dirt ❯ The Dead Rise ( Chapter 4 )

Note: Me loves my beta, Merit! *tackles her*

 

 

3. The Dead Rise

 

But sure as night turns day
it's the passion play
oh my god
what have they done
with madmen rage
well the dogged craze
but the dead rise again you fools

--Flogging Molly

 

**

 

Heero Yuy towered over the vidscreen on his desk like a raging titan, and had he not saved the world twice and been husband to the most respected pacifist in a quarter century, one would assume he belonged in a place locked far far away from people like Gregory Micheals. As it were, Gregory was on that vidscreen and actually several hundred miles away on a dumpy little L2 colony. Theoretically, there was nothing Heero Yuy could to do physically harm him, but of course, people who didn't know Heero Yuy tended to believe that. Gregory knew better. In Greg's opinion, all of the gundam pilots were complete psychopaths, but Heero Yuy was the kind of psychopath other psychopaths didn't even screw with. It was a general rule these days that if you wanted to live and live well, you did not cross paths with the man. It made working for him a bit of a pain in the ass.

 

Gregory paled slightly as his boss glared so venomously, he was sure he would die just from suffering it. "Ahh... now, Sir..."

 

"Shut up, Micheals." Greg did as he was told immediately. "One last time. Why did you allow yourself to be detected by Agent Noin, and why did you allow yourself to be overcome by her and lose control of the situation?" His voice was calm, almost methodical, which was such a contradiction to his glare.

 

Gregory faltered slightly. His boss was Not Happy with very big capitals, and that said something given his rage little after the death of his wife four months ago. Before the Lady Peacecraft's murder, Heero Yuy was the nicest guy he'd ever met and he had overheard more than once Une's grumbling regarding his constant refusal to be involved with Preventer. It was obvious the man much preferred his wife and his daughter to holding a gun again, and it was even rumored that after the gundams were destroyed, Heero Yuy had destroyed his own collection of guns as well--some of them very valuable, and not just because they were owned by the Man That Saved The World And Married Its Queen. Heero Yuy was an expert at warfare, everyone knew that, and it was time that he finally learned something about peace. Or so Chang had said, the one time Greg found the topic discussed between them.

 

Too bad that peace didn't last long. Five days after Relena's death, Heero Yuy was found in Une's office arguing vehemently to be let back in, which was ironic since five days previous, she would have danced naked in the mess hall for the offer if she had to. Rumor said that Une did not want Heero involved because he was clearly emotional, but then a phone call from the President changed everything, and Heero got his own office in sublevel C by the end of the night. It was small and painfully ordinary, but it suited him just like that deadly glare he was giving Gregory right now.

 

Greg sighed and shook his head. The pain that Zechs had caused Heero Yuy in murdering the man's wife was unforgivable. Gregory silently hoped that Noin found him and then made his life a living hell.

 

"Agent Noin is a very formidable foe, Sir," Gregory said, "...and no matter how careful I might have been, I have no doubt she knew I was tailing her the entire time. I believe she attacked me because she needed a gun to face the target, and she knew that I was carrying. She killed two birds with one stone, Sir, and then locked me in a closet where I remained trapped just long enough to lose her. I will of course track her down again and I will know the moment she leaves this colony. But I request backup. If she has Ze--"

 

The man glaring down at him growled something only akin to death.

 

"--ahh, the target... she um... she may have an ally in confrontation, Sir." Gregory's voice shook. He decided he deserved hazard pay if he was going to work with an emotionally unbalanced Heero Yuy. "Since we cannot harm the target--"

 

"Zechs," Heero spat the name with hatred and Gregory could not stop another shudder, "...will not ally with Noin. You know their history together, and as such, you should know that there is little love lost between them. We knew that she would track him down soon as she was free from Preventer, and though we still do not know why she has done so, we know that she is not going to... ally... with him, Agent Micheals. To put it bluntly, she hates him. You, Agent Micheals, should know that, and if you were here and not there I would personally reprimand you for your idiocy. But you are there. I will grant you the backup you need, but if you let her and the target leave that colony without you, you better pray that I never see your face again."

 

"Sir..."

 

There was a moment of silence and Gregory watched on the screen as Heero pulled out his gun. He flinched slightly--even miles away on a vid, it was still a scary sight, but Heero only sat down slowly, leaning back in his chair as he began to polish the barrel. The implications were not lost on him. It was Heero's way of telling him the results of failure.

 

"We have had little in the way of this case for several weeks, and I have given you the duty because of your record. Une highly recommended you," Heero's voice was still calm, but it had a burning quality to it that had been missing before. He suspected it was the kind of voice ghosts had heard just before Heero shot them between the eyes, and he wondered how many people he had killed like that, so simple and efficient, without a care in the world. Greg wondered very briefly if he really would end up being one of them.

 

He shivered, and that voice did not get any nicer. "Do not disappoint me, Agent," Heero continued quietly, "...because if I have to go up there and find him myself, he will come back in pieces, no matter what the President has ordered me. That is why you have been given the job in the first place."

 

Gregory swallowed, his face white as a sheet. "Yes Sir," he gulped. "Of course, Sir."

 

The link was cut before he could finish groveling, and Greg stared at the blank screen in horror. Oh hell. He was fucked.

 

**

 

Zechs dug through Noin's pockets, searching frantically for the key to his handcuffs. He was running out of time and backup for their little fire party would be arriving any second. But he did not want--no, he would not run with chains on his wrists. He'd given up a lot in the way of pride these days, but being chained wasn't one of them. There was a reason he'd run away from Relena's murder. There had to be keys.

 

Cursing, he shoved his fist into a back pocket and felt a small ring of metal that made his heart leap in triumph, but when he pulled it out, it was a set of car keys. He ground his teeth in frustration. Where the hell did she put the damned things?

 

Trust Noin to make his life a living hell. First she'd fallen in love with him, then she became a lover and grew up to hate him, and now she came right back again to tell him she wanted revenge for Relena's murder even though she knew he didn't do it, and of course she had to tell him just how much she hated him and wanted him to die, and that she would kill him, murder him in horribly messy ways, and--oh, by the way, did you know that you'll never see your son, Zechs? No, you'll never carry him, you'll never touch him, you'll never speak to him, you'll never see him...

 

Zechs shook his head and scowled at her prone form on the floor. He knew deserved it, but it wasn't fair anyway. It wasn't fair at all. She never told him she was pregnant after he'd left, she never even...

 

"Fuck it," he muttered. He heard shouts and footsteps stomping up the stairwell to their floor, and he knew that he was in serious trouble. He'd just have to deal with it, like he dealt with everything--either forget it, or blow up the world trying to fix it, that was his motto. And god, but he was sick and tired of blowing up the world...

 

With a frustrated growl, he hauled her body with his bound hands and dragged her across the hall, kicking open the nearest motel room door. A maid screamed when he came in, and he spun, recognizing her as the maid who'd stuck her head out in the fire fight from earlier. Dropping Noin's unconscious body, he aimed his energy pistol at her skull and said only, "Help her." The maid, traumatized, babbled something incoherent before running to Noin's side and waving her chubby pink hands in panic.

 

Hearing the voices of his chasers arrive in the corridor, Zechs towered over the maid, the gun aimed at her chest. He glared like death. "Stay quiet and I won't hurt you," he said.

 

She whimpered, but said nothing.

 

Zechs ignored her. He shut the front door quietly to give himself some time, and looked around the room in a quick, efficient manner. It was small and smelled like cigars, a door to the right hiding a miniature bathroom. Beyond stained sheers, he saw sliding glass doors, and pulling them open, he was greeted to a little balcony on the third floor. Looking down, he saw solid black pavement--he wasn't going to make the jump intact, if even remotely conscious. Looking up instead, he noticed a forth floor balcony directly above him, two poles at either end of the railing to aid in support. Zechs hopped up the railing and balanced himself, clutching the pole with his bound wrists as he examined it. Locking his leg around it, he shimmied up as best that he could with the handcuffs and reached out--legs locked, bound hands extended dangerously--for the floor of the balcony directly above him. It took three tries and he very nearly fell off, but he caught it and gripped the iron railing white knuckled as he climbed until his foot caught hold, hopping over the guard. Huffing slightly as he stood proudly on the forth floor balcony, Zechs made a grunt of triumph and marched toward the sliding door of the new room. But when he pulled it open, he was greeted to the barrel of a ninety-nine millimeter.

 

He didn't waste time in cursing, and he didn't waste time to feel surprised. He simply moved before there was a single thought between them, a sudden blur of black and gold--Zechs had been famous for his speed in the old days, and he still had that talent, especially now. He slashed the gunman's wrist, forcing the gun to fall to the floor, and then he punched him in the gut fast as lightning, spinning a kick that sent the attacker sprawling on the carpet. He rolled on top of the bastard and punched him three times before pocketing his gun, and then he raced out the door with his own energy pistol set to kill and at the ready. More men were waiting for him outside and he shot the first one in the forehead, before spinning again, kicking the other partner in the side of the head, knocking him out cold. The last man jabbed Zechs in the side and got in a good punch to his jaw before Zechs kicked the man's legs out from under him and stomped on his gun hand, breaking his wrist. He kicked that last man twice to keep him down before racing to the stairwell three doors down the corridor. Kicking the door open, he crouched, the cool metal of the handcuffs loose on his wrists, though very annoying regardless. Noin hadn't tightened them too well... he could get them off easily, if only he had the time to play with them. Perhaps she'd wanted him to escape all along? Or maybe she had anticipated that something like this would happen. It wouldn't surprise him--things tended to happen to Zechs, after all.

 

He shook his head furiously, shoving thoughts of Noin out of his head. That was the last thing he needed to worry about. He looked down at his gun and checked the power; eighty percent. It was good enough. It'd have to be.

 

He took ten steps down warily, checking his gun at every turn. He saw another maid, but the she missed him, slipping into the third floor without a glance. When he got to the second floor, voices rang out. The heavy rumble of booted men pounded up the stairs, and Zechs, having no where to run, braced himself for the worst.

 

Until a voice rose above all the others and called them back.

 

"That will far enough, gentlemen!"

 

Zechs stood there, completely frozen. He couldn't even breathe.

 

All of the men halted at the man's word, and footsteps echoed awkwardly with what sounded like the aid of a cane. He stopped just passed the turn at the stairs where he would see Zechs and Zechs could see him, and Zechs just stood there, speechless, when the other man said calmly, "I can handle this alone."

 

He wore thick black sunglasses, but he took them off and put them in his pocket. Zechs could not stop the hitch in his breath when he saw the mutilation on his face... his left eye was slashed and there was only the solid white of blindness. It was an eye that, Zechs knew, used to be the most interesting shade of blue, and he found himself wondering what could have possibly happened to make that eye so completely white like that. It was disturbing, and Zechs found he couldn't look away, even when he wanted to.

 

The man moved forward, completely unfazed, and Zechs fell backward, his body crawling away even while he could not stop staring. The face was scarred, his smile was different, his hair was so disarrayed it looked as if it hadn't been combed in years, and his eyes... they were so wrong, but Zechs would know him anywhere. He would know that voice and that body and that... that man anywhere.

 

Couldn't be...

 

"Hello Milliardo. I see you've cut your hair. Clever."

 

...But it was.

 

Zechs shook his head, his mouth his gaping like a fish. He breathed shallowly, unable to speak.

 

The man smiled. "Oh, you recognize me? Flattered." And the smile darkened, twisting like an angry snake. "But I'm not who you think I am."

 

Zechs just continued to shake his head very minutely, his body now resorting to vicious shivering. He ran a hand through his hair, unsatisfied once again by how short it was, and he swallowed once, twice, and then a third time before he finally said, "No. No, you're... can't be..."

 

"I'm not," the man said. The scar slashed over his solid white left eye crinkled angrily as he glared. "I told you, I am not who you think I am."

 

But Zechs knew. He'd know it anywhere, and he knew what he was staring at. Even when he looked so different, even he looked eleven years older than he should have been, even scarred and dirty and out of his mind, Zechs knew this man like he knew his own soul.

 

His voice was no more than a whisper.

 

"...Trieze?"

 

**

 

When Noin woke, she decided she was going to kill Zechs no matter what her heart did in the process. She was going to kill him for making her love him and she was going to kill him for making her hate him. And then she was going to kill him for shooting her. Several times.

 

Who the bloody hell does he think he is, anyway? "That bastard..."

 

"Oh thank goodness you're okay, there was crazy man who dragged you in, looked a bit like that Bloodied Prince fellow always on the news, you know, the one who killed the Lady Peacecraft?"

 

Noin groaned. There was a blurry form standing over her, and chubby hands were patting her chest nervously. "I called the police, but he got away, and--"

 

"He got what!?" Noin sat up as if shot and the woman shrieked in surprise. Noin stood and glared at her, pulling out her pistol, snarling dangerously. "Where did he go?"

 

Tears suddenly streamed down the woman's face and she whined pitifully. Noin instantly recognized her as the maid who had nearly gotten herself shot in the hallway during the firefight, and her glare softened. Normal people who weren't used to violence were prone to breaking down when known murderers with rewards on their heads that could buy the galaxy stormed into their lives and thrust an unconscious woman into their hands who, upon waking up, threatened their lives just as much if not more than the known murderer had done.

 

Poor gal. Noin scowled. "Look, I don't mean to upset you, but this is kind of important." The woman blubbered on, completely oblivious. Noin put a soothing hand on her shoulder and forced the woman to look at her. "Hey. I need you to pay attention. Just tell me where he headed."

 

The woman pointed upwards and continued to cry incoherently, but Noin couldn't understand what the hell she meant. Noin patted her, pushed her, shook her, even screamed at her, but the woman wasn't to be phased, and Noin gave up in disgust. She did not have time to play around with drama queens. Checking her gun and ammo, she slipped out of the door and went for the stairs. She heard noise, and on instinct, she went down.

 

**

 

"No," the image of Treize said coldly, and Zechs just sat there. "My name is Shade. Treize is dead."

 

"No, you're..." Zechs shook his head. "You are. I know you are. I just... you are." Zechs spat in disgust and on a spur of furious energy, he stood up and growled, his gun aimed at the other man's skull. "Why are you alive? What the hell is going on?"

 

The image that was Treize tilted his head to the side in a thoughtful manner and muttered to himself, "Stubborn, strong, a bit slow to learn, but clearly intelligent... I like that..." The other man grinned dangerously--an action the old Treize would have never done, but Treize was so different now, it hardly even mattered.

 

In fact, if anyone else saw him, they would have believed Treize when he said that his name was Shade. But Zechs was not anyone else, and as his eyes roved the form in disbelief, he had no doubt to who it was he was staring at.

 

Treize had changed. He'd clearly been through hell, but that was to be expected after death, and Zechs could relate to that better than anyone. But where Zechs had escaped Libra with little scarring to his face and most of his body, Treize was not so fortunate. There was a nasty scar slashed across his left eye, which was solid white with blindness. His right eye was his old shade of dark blue, but the glimmer was different... cruel and cold and highly disturbed. There was another scar running down the right side of his jaw, and another on his neck that disappeared into the back of his hair. He was wearing clothing that could be considered far from aristocratic--a stained and ripped white t-shirt with the random design of a dragon on it, with jeans that had tears at both knees and at various places on his legs, and a long denim coat worn so badly it seemed likely to fall apart. He was also wearing a wide brimmed hat that hid most of his hair except for the parts that stuck out as if it'd never seen the sight of a shower.

 

He was leaning heavily on a solid black cane supported on his left side, and looking closely, Zechs could tell that his left leg had been damaged permanently, or Treize would have long ago outgrown it one way or the other. His right hand also didn't move right... it more or less hung limply at his side like a dead weight. He looked, if not for his eyes and the way he carried himself, helpless, and Zechs frowned. He may have argued with Treize and even hated him beyond anything during that last battle between Libra and the world, but he never wanted Treize to die. Not once. It was almost funny now, when he looked back on it... all that time delaying going to that grave on Earth for absolutely nothing. All those nightmares, all that regret, all that pain, and the object of his terror was still alive. Treize was still alive. Deranged, damaged and dangerous, but still very much alive.

 

Zechs shook even harder. He knew he was going to break down when this was over. He could handle a lot of things, he could even handle being framed for his sister's murder, but having Treize come back from the dead...

 

"No," Zechs shook his head in the denial. "No, you're alive, but you're not supposed to be, you're Treize, but you're... you... you can't really be... you can't..."

 

"I'm alive because I never died. I'm Shade, Treize is dead."

 

"NO!" Zechs screamed, and it bounced off the walls like rubber. "You're supposed to be dead, don't you understand? You... you fucker, you're supposed to be..." He backed up, stumbled, still shaking his head as his gun's aim faltered in his panic. "Treize... I don't know what's wrong with you, but I know who you are and you're supposed to be dead... I thought... you're... no."

 

Zechs swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to calm nerves already way out of line. His eyes were burning with frustrated tears, but he did not shed them, and continued to back away, even as the image of Treize who called himself Shade stared up at him in cold amusement.

 

"I can forgive the dramatics," he said calmly, climbing the stairs after his prey. "But sooner or later you'll have to accept the truth. I am not Trieze. Treize is dead."

 

"I don't believe you," Zechs said hoarsely.

 

"That's too bad," said Shade.

 

"Yes," said a voice behind Zechs. Zechs went absolutely still and Trieze's smile faltered back into madness. "It is, isn't it?"

 

Noin shot Treize. Treize fell and the rumble of shouts and men turning the corner and racing up the stairs after them was empowering. Zechs just stood there, his mind shutting down, and when Noin said something rude and grabbed his arm, he let her haul him away without resistance. They ran in the gunshots and the chaos of the stairwell, but Zechs did not process anything. Even as a bullet made it's way into his right arm, he did not do anything.

 

He decided that he was going to kill Noin if Treize was dead. He was going to kill her, and then he was going to kill himself, because even hell had to be better than this shit...

 

 

A/N: Well, we all knew that if Zechs survived, Treize did too. And hell, if you thought that was a shocker, you ain't seen nothin' yet. *grins ever-so-sweetly*