Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation ❯ III - F - Same Shit, Different Day - Trowa's ( Chapter 21 )

“Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation”

How these 4 s-words are intertwined with one another and Gundam Wing fanfiction

By Masamune Reforged

WhenShootingStarsFall.com

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the Gundam 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 (including graphic lemon, multiple multiple pairings, primarily 1x2 and 3x4) cursing, drug use, violence, angst, insanity, cameos, AU, lunacy, sanity.

 

Part F in “In the Concrete Jungle”, Page III in the s4 arc.

Same Shit Different Day - Trowa's

Trowa's POV

 

Mine was probably the only cab horn not honking furiously. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I had to use my horn. More often than not, I could steer around bikers or open car doors, and I'd found that honking to get on someone to move usually just firmed their resolve to go as slowly as they damn well pleased.

 

Tick. The meter ate another twenty cents out of my passenger's pocket. His fare so far was 7.89, and at the end tax would get added on, adding a little more than a dollar to the total. One minute of idle time cost twenty cents. Every quarter mile covered cost fifty cents. There was a two-dollar fee for just getting in the cab. I could see the street corner, several blocks back in my rear view mirror, where I'd picked up the balding, grumbling man. Every ten seconds he would check his watch and occasionally mutter about how late he was going to be for his train.

 

The customer grumbled, “Come on, come on. Goddamnit.”

 

The light in front of me, actually six cars in front of me, turned green. Nobody moved. Perpendicular cars blocked the intersecting lanes. The guy at the front of my line leaned on his horn for all he was worth. The cabbie blocking him yelled something back. Behind the cab was a minivan where a pigtailed girl was pressing up against the glass and making faces against the passenger side window. The redheaded woman in the sports car directly in front of me decided she wants to parallel park where the fire hydrant on my direct right was. I go through this almost every day.

 

“Come on! Look at this! Who lets these people drive? Jesus, I'm going to be late. Come on, come on, come on...” And so on and so forth. City folk are always in such a hurry.

 

On the radio, Titan Classic started to play “I Can't Tell You Why” by The Eagles. It's turned down real soft, and I can barely hear the guitar plucking over my passenger's cursing and the traffic outside. I started to hum along. I love The Eagles.

 

“Oh this is ridiculous!” the bald man snapped. In the mirror I saw him grabbing his coat and suitcase. “Let me out already! It'll be faster if I walk!”

 

The cars in front of me have moved. The redhead in the sports car decided to take her chances with parking on a different street, roaring across the median and nearly running over a crossing businessman on his cell phone.

 

“Your toll is 9.56,” I said politely.

 

“Wasn't it just 7.90?” the customer sneered, ripping his wallet out of his pocket and spilling subway tokens on the floor.

 

“Tax,” I answered simply.

 

“Nearly ten and I'm still going to miss my train. Goddamnit.”

 

Now the cars behind me were honking as I sat and waited for my rider to get out.

 

“Here!” Exasperated, the man threw a torn 10 bill in my general direction. It fluttered under the glove compartment. Scooping his coat and suitcase under his arms, he threw the door open and kicked it shut, then began buffaloing his way through the crowd on the sidewalks.

 

I turned left onto 2nd Street, heading back towards the main downtown area. Around this time of day, lunchtime, there were lots of good fares to be found around the trendy cafes and shops south of the old Fairgrounds. I also wanted to drive for a little bit and just listen to the radio. Yes, I was aware that I'd get charged for the gas used in-between fares, and that I was struggling to pay this month's rent and my drug dealer as is. But for now all I wanted was to just sit and listen to “I Can't Tell You Why”.

 

~~ Nothing's wrong as far as I can see ~~
~~ We make it harder than it has to be ~~
~~ and I can't tell you why ~~
~~ no, baby, I can't tell you why ~~

 

“HEY! DO WE HAVE ANYONE NEAR THE COSMOS' BUILDING?” Much louder than the radio, the raspy voice of Circus blared in my cab, and in all other Big Top cabs.

 

A general clamor of responses, transmission clicks and general hubbub came into Circus' hub back at the Big Top Central Gotham Garage. Circus was the name given to the situational manager for Big Top, Metro City's third largest cab company. I'm not sure why that name was picked, but it accurately described the goings-on at the garage.

 

“GOTCHA. EL, GO PICK UP THE DIPLOMAT. THE REST OF YOU USELESS SHITS GET SOME LUNCHTIME FARES!”

 

I had turned off 2nd Street onto Broad Avenue, running straight down the center of Gotham. “I Can't Tell You Why” was coming to an end. It was about time to start looking for a fare.

 

“0303! WHAT TIME YOU DRIVING UNTIL TODAY?” Circus usually called me by my cab ID number. He could also holler directly into my ear or at any other individual cabs according to the numbers.

 

“8 PM,” I answered into my transmitter. Circus was about to ask me `for a favor'. He only sent individual transmissions whenever he needed to ask a favor. He wasn't big on the chit chat, that's for sure.

 

“WILL YOU DO ME A FAVOR, T-BAG?” Circus sometimes called me “T-bag”, it was one of the few names I wasn't too fond of. All the other drivers thought it was hilarious.

 

“What kind of favor?” I asked. Circus was also my connection to a lot of the illegal jobs I pulled. Most of the time it was just a driving job. Point A to Point B.

 

“BOTH KINDS” Circus answered. He served as a real low, but real important guy in his neck of the Metro underworld woods; knowing every city street and police patrol schedule. Cabs come and go everywhere, all times of the night. It was too good of a setup for the crooks to leave idle, too much money for Circus to say no to.

 

“I NEED YOU TO WORK THE TRAIN STATIONS IN OLD GOTHAM UNTIL MIDNIGHT” I held back a groan. Now that was the kind of favor that'll keep me sitting in my cab for twelve plus hours straight...

 

“AND COME BACK TO THE GOTHAM HARBOR GARAGE WHEN YOU'RE DONE”

 

Now that was the kind of favor that paid in a cash-filled, blank envelope. Usually those `favors' involved ferrying people, much like my legitimate job. Painted women dressed up in short skirts doing their make-up as I took them from customer to customer. Silent men hidden by hats and sunglasses counting drug money as I took them from spot to spot. Occasionally it was just me, a briefcase, and classic rock.

 

“No pickup or drop point?” I asked. Going back to the garage meant that the job wasn't a driving one.

 

“DAMNIT, T-BAG, I ASKED IF YOU COULD GO TO THE GODDAMNED GOTHAM HARBOR GARAGE WHEN YOUR SHIFT ENDS. CAN YOU DO THAT OR NOT?” I could hear Circus's spit hit the microphone.

 

“Yeah,” I answered. I really did need the money. I also didn't mind the long work day.

 

“AND KEEP YOUR YAP SHUT ABOUT THIS!” Circus ordered.

 

“Yeah,” I repeated. “I've got a fare, 0303 out.” I clicked off the transmission while pulling up to the curb. The fare was a rich one, and quite a looker at that.

 

“2000 Prospect Boulevard, Zodiac Pharmaceuticals' building, please.” He spoke without even looking at me, focused on the electronic planner in his hand. But he spoke kindly, not simply demanding like most of the fares did.

 

As I glided back into the chaotic traffic, the young man made a phone call using the Blackberry. “Yes, this is Rey. Connect me immediately.” I looked back at him through the rearview.

 

He was very young, and very feminine. Despite being dressed in an all-white business suit, blue designer shirt and silk red tie, you could easily mistake him for a woman. He had platinum blonde hair that started to curl around his shoulders. His boyish face was the creamiest of whites. His blue eyes stared straight ahead as he waited patiently for the person on the phone. I almost ran a red light because I was staring so hard at him through the mirror. I'll admit it, I have a thing for blondes...

 

“Rau?” He asked into the phone, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Yes, this is Rey. Yes.” `Rey' had one of those voices that showed maturity and calm, soft and level.

 

I turned onto the Prospect Bay Parkway, a little shortcut to avoid the traffic that perpetually clogs downtown Gotham. The PBP ran along the bottom tip of Gotham, then swung northward, two exits after City Hall, following Prospect Bay, which lead out into the ocean. It was actually a roundabout way to get to the fare's destination, but it would be faster at this time of day.

 

“No, the results were not what we'd hoped,” Rey was still speaking on the phone. I had hoped to strike up some kind of conversation with him, although what about I had no clue. “The investors from Tokyo are also still very critical.” Stupid me... Hell, I probably wouldn't be able to come up with anything to say, as usual... “It seems that the adrenaline releasers were overworked. They need more time to regenerate, too much time.” It was a dumb idea anyway, trying to mingle with an obviously up-and-coming beauty like this one. “He is still stable though. Yes.”

 

The classic rock station took a break for commercials. Another phone rang. It was also Rey's. He pulled it out of the pocket on the inner breast of his suit coat.

 

“I have a call from Gil, I have to take this,” he said, resigned. The smile wavered a little bit. “Yes, I'll have him call you right away. Yes, I'll make sure the meeting with Septum is pushed back to Monday. Yes. Goodbye, Rau.”

 

I turned off the Prospect Bay Parkway, immediately hitting a wall of tourist line buses. Still, it was probably under a minute to the destination. The fare meter ticked its way past 15. Taking the PBP accumulated mileage very quickly.

 

“Gil.” Rey's voice wavered. It finally showed something of his youth, in the respect and admiration that made his pale face flush. “It's Rey.”

 

The radio station was still droning on through commercials. Most stations were owned by Titan Entertainment, the Metro City based media and entertainment company, the nation's largest. That meant that Metro radio stations had the highest average of commercial time per hour, something that really bugged me. Not like I even had the money to buy half the stuff they advertised...

 

“The tracking failure was reported to be because of mechanical error... but more likely...” Rey continued. He was going through his wallet as I turned onto Prospect Blvd. “No word on any activity. The three of them are reported to have met yesterday. Yes, all three. They're here. Yes, it's been confirmed.”

 

Without a word, the beautiful, random man that stepped into my car handed me a 50 bill. I started to go through the change drawer, but he was already getting out of the car. He shook his head and gave me a polite smile. Somehow I was reminded of Quatre.

 

On the radio they started to play The Rolling Stones, “You Can't Always Get What You Want”.

 

“The latest installment should be ready on the 9th... Moving at 11 at night. No. No, I don't believe there's any need to change our plans.” And he shut the door and I was back to work.

 

~~But if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need~~

 

-end Trowa's POV

-end “SSDD: Same Shit, Different Day - Trowa's-

Part F of Page III, “In the Concrete Jungle” in the “Sex Substances, Sin and Salvation” arc.

 

Next part: Not so Private Phone Call

WhenShootingStarFall.com

 

ID Notes:

Circus is the name I gave to Trowa's boss. He is slightly based off the guy who runs the traveling circus Trowa joins in Gundam Wing. The head of the circus in Wing was never named, that I know.

 

Rey is Rey Z Burrel from Gundam SEED Destiny. He is a young ZAFT soldier and absolutely my favorite character from that show. He is also possibly the most beautiful bishounen in any Gundam show ever.

 

You've heard the names of the people Rey is talking to on the phone before.

 

Notes:

Songs are owned by The Eagles and The Rolling Stones, specifically. The name of the radio station is a reference to an older Gundam series.