Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation ❯ I - F - Fate is Unreasonable Affection ( Chapter 6 )

Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation

How these 4 `s' words are intertwined

By Masamune Reforged

WhenShootingStarsFall.com

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters, they are the property of Bandai, Sunrise or someone else, but not me. I use them for no-profit whatsoever, but for entertainment's gain.

Warnings: Yaoi (lots of pairings and lemons later, but nothing more than shounen-ai for right now) cursing, drug use, violence, angst, insanity, cameos, AU, lunacy, sanity.

 

Part F of “Fate Works at a 24/7 Convenient Store”, Page I in the s4 arc.

“Fate is Unreasonable Affection”

Trowa's POV

 

I couldn't see a thing in the basement of the 24-7 store, but neither the Yakuza nor myself were about to turn on any kind of light. I shuffled along in the darkness, prodding Wufei Chang's back every few paces to urge him forward. The smell of rotten food stunk worse than pigs and the floor was strewn with flattened cardboard boxes and trash. I couldn't see it, but I could hear the moldy, damp trash squish slightly under my feet as I led the Chinese hostage through the dark.

 

I had my left arm firmly encircled around the Winner kid's neck, the warmth of his every intake and release beating a steady, quickened tempo. In the other hand I held one of the flashlights that we'd grabbed from the store before descending into the basement.

 

I could barely hear the Yakuza and his hostage behind me, moving in a silence that sometimes made me wonder if they hadn't stopped or disappeared into thin air. I could understand about the Yakuza, an obvious veteran in covert and combat, but his braided hostage was surpassingly stealthy.

 

At one point, my hostage, Quatre Winner, stumbled and the sound of a metal bucket crashing over on the floor and rolling on its side echoed in the total silence. Startled, I had tightened my grip on the blonde's throat, leaving him coughing stifled, little coughs. I had a hand clapped over his mouth, and his breath was hot, even through my gloves.

 

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. I was surprised at myself. This was my hostage, my ticket to freedom, and nothing more. If it came down to it I'd put a bullet between his eyes in a heartbeat (but why did I doubt that I'd be able to do that?), so there was no point in apologizing.

 

A few paces later, I let my hand drop down to his upper sternum, my hand releasing its tightly balled fist. I could feel his pulse thumping now, feel the ridge of his upper breast and the muscles screwed up in his shoulder. He wasn't built, but still in shape. “Better?” I asked, unconsciously caressing his chest. Again, it made no sense, and, again, I couldn't deny that I was having these emotions towards him.

 

I could only guess what the rich kid's response might have been, because the next second I bumped into Wufei Chang. I prodded him with the pistol, but he didn't move.

 

“It's a door,” he said airily, softly. Sure enough, a thin line of gray light was on the floor before his toes.... and.... I strained my ears to listen; there were voices on the other side.

 

I made a motion to the Yakuza to back up several feet, getting away from the door and hopefully out of earshot of anyone outside.

 

“Sounds like four or five of them,” the stiff Japanese muttered. “Not too bad...”

 

“I'm not going out there shooting,” I whispered.

 

“Hn, lose your resolve?” The Yakuza asked with a bite.

 

“No, but we don't know for sure how many are out there or where they are.” And, and I didn't say it, I also didn't want to risk the Winner's life in a shootout. My own... well, that was another story... “We need some kind of diversion, lure them away.”

 

“Fair enough,” he conceded, sounding a little disappointed. “I have a plan, but you may still need to use your gun. You shoot to kill?”

 

I nodded. That was life. I wasn't going to jail, and I wasn't quite ready to die either. I hadn't wanted to commit armed robbery, but I wasn't about to go hungry or get kicked out onto the street. On the other side of that door were men that had preferences directly opposed to my own. And maybe someone was about to die because of that. So it goes.[1]

 

“You,” the Japanese tapped the drugged-up Asian who spun around confusedly, his eyes still bugging out of his head. “When I snap my fingers, I want you to throw open that door and go running out.” The Yakuza continued over what might have been a forming protest from the Chinese youth, “Make sure you leave it wide open. Put your hands up high in the air as you go out; they won't shoot you, but make sure they don't catch you immediately. I don't care what direction you run in, just don't stop until they drag you to the ground. And make sure you leave this door wide open.”

 

There was a funny look of resolve in the hostage's oversized opal eyes, a grim determination that I couldn't identify or place. He nodded and turned to face the door.

 

-Geronimo-

 

“Take the left side, I'll take the right,” the Yakuza ordered. “Stick to the walls, so if they look in they don't see anything right away.” I didn't need to be told that...

 

The Japanese snarled in Wufei Chang's ear, “If you don't get at least out of view of this doorway I'm going to put a bullet in your skull, so make it speedy.” He backed up several feet away from the door and flattened against the wall, flashlight and gun out and ready. I did the same on the opposite side.

 

He snapped his fingers.

 

Wufei threw the door open and a row of confused cries erupted as he emerged. The dull, electric tangerine light from the distant streetlamps barely lit the alleyway, but forced me to squint nonetheless. I saw three police all yell “STOP STOP” and then take off after him. He bounced to the right and the following footsteps were soon quickly fading into the night. I didn't move. Had they all gone?

 

“Haha,” someone outside chuckled. “What the hell ya reckon that was all about, Otto?”

 

“Dunno,” 'Otto' answered. “Didn't look like...”

 

The voice sounded wary, suspicious. I could almost feel his eyes, potentially on either side of the door, but how far away I couldn't tell, frowning at the door. I saw the Yakuza cock his head at me meaningfully.

 

“But damn that boy was sure in some kinda hurry!” The first cop was not on point at all. It sounded like he was on my side of the door. “You reckon he turned tail and left the loot?”

 

“We should check in there,” 'Otto' commanded. “Careful.”

 

Heavy footsteps padded on the loose stones and trash of the alley. A black-laced, black boot appeared just to my right.

 

The blonde Winner boy was shaking. He had remained totally silent the whole time, but now his pulse was beating furiously. I raised my hand and stroked his cheek reassuringly, like a mother would. His skin was as soft as a baby's. His hair smelled faintly of strawberries still on the vine. I wanted to reassure him that he'd be alright; but, just as quickly as the emotion came, I also remembered that he was to be my human shield, the potential sacrifice I might have to make if I wanted to escape. But... and again... would I make that decision?... I didn't have time to sort my thoughts out.

 

Two heads peeped around the corner, shaded forms sliding towards us on either side of the wall, their boots making too much noise. I could have shot both of them right there. But if there were more, or if others were close by... Ten feet off, they didn't enter.

 

“I'm going in,” the one on the right said. The other shadow head nodded.

 

The Yakuza looked at me and then nodded.

 

We switched our flashlights on simultaneously and rushed out. The cop on my side tried to cover his eyes, stumbled on a part of the door and falling to a knee. It was too easy to smash my right knee up into his face as he groped around blindly. I turned the corner, ready to break to the right and hoof it out of there.

 

“Don't move!”

 

My eyes darted around the alleyway. There! The light from my flashlight made the cop crouching behind a dumpster visible.

 

“We have hostages,” I heard the Yakuza growl behind me. “You will let us go or they die. Call for backup and they die.”

 

The cop already had his gun out, steadied on top of the dumpster, his curly haired head sticking out just slightly. It was a stalemate. I had a hostage and couldn't aim that carefully. He was covered, but couldn't get a decent bead on me due to the flashlight in his eye and the hostage in my arms.

 

He said, “You'll never escape.”

 

I replied, “Then our two hostages will die.” I threw a little more bass and spittle into my throat, hoping it would make me sound more vicious and dangerous, “Could you live with the heir to the Winner fortune's death on your mind?”

 

“You mother fuckers...” The cop whose face I had kicked got up, staggering backwards, down the alleyway, past the Japanese gunman and his hostage. His gun hand was limp at his side.

 

In the brief silence that followed, I took a few shuffles towards the alleyway that the Chinese had disappeared down. That was the only way that didn't lead back to the streets. The longer we took, the worse our chances got.

 

“We don't have time, and we're not bluffing.” The Yakuza also had a sense of the situation. “I'll kill this one right now just to prove it to you.”

 

“And reveal yourselves for the rest of the police force?” the cop named Otto countered, calling the bluff. But, I wasn't so sure that it had been a bluff at all. In fact...

 

“Nobody needs to die today,” I said. “But I'm not going to jail either.”

 

“Walk away, slowly,” Heero whispered to his hostage.

 

 

-end Trowa's POV.

-end “Fate is Unreasonable Affection”part F in Page I in the debauchery and hedonism arc that shall be named “Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation”

-feedback to MasamuneEHS@hotmail.com Hope you liked.

 

Next: “Fate is Murder in the First Degree”

 

ID Notes:

Otto is the same Otto from Gundam Wing. The other cop is not anyone in particular, just another cop.

 

Notes: [1] This is a Slaughterhouse 5 reference. It is an excellent book that I recommend to everyone. “So it goes” is a saying used in the story when death is referred to.