Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation ❯ IV - I - Before the Blood Dries ( Chapter 35 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation
How these 4 `s' words are intertwined
By Masamune Reforged
WhenShootingStarsFall.com
Warnings: Yaoi (tons of pairings, but mostly 1x2, 3x4 and implied former 13x6. Lemons amuck.), cursing, drug use, violence, angst, insanity, cameos, AU, lunacy, racism. All the bad shit you'd expect in real life.
Page IV: A Crow Left of the Murder
Part I of Page IV
“Before the Blood Dries”
POV?
Response Report from Lieutenant Lucrezia Noin, 109th Precinct. February 18th.
1:50 AM - HC702 request sent in by 911 switchboards for 7 Fairgrounds Place. Patrol car 9|14 sent.
1:53 AM - Confirmed A702 dispatched by 911 operator. Multiple car request. All nearby 109th officers dispatched to 7 Fairgrounds Place. Lieutenant Noin leading from 109th. Requests sent to 108th, 101st and 111th.
PC 9|14 arrives on scene. Fire reported. Reports of gunfire and injured inside.
1:54 AM - Lieutenant Noin leaves 109th Precinct.
Reports of fire confirmed.
1:55 AM - 108th backup arrives.
On scene officers set up light perimeter in front of Fairgrounds Park, Officer Mueller on scene command.
Reports of injured confirmed.
1:56 AM - Call from Fire Sergeant ______ of 2nd Gotham Ladder. Request for Level 2 Assistance. Fire confirmed at 7 Fairgrounds Place and jurisdiction of the incident taken by Metro Fire Dept.
Dead confirmed. Subject 4-######.
1:57 AM - Trowa Barton is arrested by Officers Mueller and Alex. 774.
Dead confirmed. Subject 4-######.
1:58 AM - First paramedic arrives on scene. Officers assist and escort.
1:59 AM - Lieutenant Noin arrives on scene. Full perimeter setup coordinated with 2nd Ladder.
First wounded taken to hospital.
2:00 AM - 101st backup arrives on scene. 1st Ladder arrives on scene.
2:02 AM - Potential eye-witnesses removed from scene.
2:03 AM - Second report of dead confirmed. Multiple dead confirmed.
Subject 4-######.
Subject 4-######.
Subject 4-######.
Subject 4-######.
(continues on page 2)
*-*-*-*-*-*
“So, I couldn't help but notice when you gave your ID to the cop... your real name is Kamille, huh?”
“Don't call me that. Names don't mean shit in my business anyway.”
“I really don't care much for nicknames. They're just another barricade people hide behind because they're too scared to face something.”
“What the fuck are you trying to say? I just told you, names don't mean shit. What was yours, some shit like Chang? Yeah, like that's such a great name.”
“Then you aren't opposed to me calling you Kamille, rather than the Z man?”
“Whatever... You did save my ass back there... Honestly, I don't care what you call me as long as it's not worm food.”
...
...
“That thing with setting the fire was pretty awesome though, that was some quick, heads up shit. Sucks that you lost your dope though...”
“Well, better than going to jail. We were some of the last ones to get out of there, the cops were searching everyone at that point.”
“Fucking pigs... Those motherfuckers always fuck shit up...”
“I take it you don't like the police very much.”
“That's an understatement. I'm a pusher after all. Besides, the fucking pigs are just a bunch of self-obsessed bitches who suck each other off and eat donuts all day, at least when they aren't busying framing and beating minorities.”
“...Yeah...”
“And you don't need to worry. I'll get you the X in a couple of days. You got my phone number now. Shit, I'll even throw in a little extra.”
“I'll be fine with the original amount. I'm just curious to see how it is.”
“You seem to know your shit. You been bombing for long?”
“Only the past three years or so. Actually, I study chemistry at the university.”
“No shit. Some of the labbies I know used to do the same thing before they started going into business. You plan on doing the same?”
“It's more of a personal hobby to me...”
“Shit, well you could make a lot of money, you know? They're always looking for an extra nerd to help them out. I could introduce you.”
“Really? That could actually be perfect. I've never met any underground drug producer with more than a high school education. If this X is as good as you say, I might want to meet the guys behind it.”
“Like I said, you have my number, and I owe you one. Call me if you're interested and I'll see what I can sling together.”
“Thanks, Kamille.”
“Yeah, whatever, Chang... just don't call me that in public, will ya?”
*-*-*-*-*-*
The patient is a five foot two, white male, blond hair, blue eyes, around one-hundred and ten pounds at last physical.
Systolic: over 135 mmHg.
Diastolic: over 90 mmHG.
Breathing is deep and accelerated.
Radial pulse indicates 200 BPM, cartoid pulse confirms.
The patient's name is Quatre Raberba Winner. As per my employer's, Zayeed Winner's, instructions I arrived on the scene the moment Quatre was identified by the on-site paramedics. Report from the on-site paramedic is as follows:
+++Subject has clearly ingested large amounts of alcohol and controlled substances.
+++Subject's companion refuses to identify said substances, although moderate bleeding from the nasal cavity, along with other symptoms typical of reactions to stimulant alkaloids, highly suggests cocaine.
+++Subject is incoherent and has trouble speaking or performing basic motor functions.
+++Subject has thrown up multiple times in the past hour.
+++Subject's companion arrested by local police for possession of a firearm without a license.
+++Subject becomes even more uncooperative.
+++Subject falls asleep, will be taken to hospital.
+++Subject's doctor arrives on scene, taking over subject's supervision and accompanying him/her in ambulance.
Patient has been hospitalized in the past for non-lethal overdoses of both alcohol and cocaine, as well as a brief term in Green Noah Psychiatric Ward after trying to take his life several years ago.
Blood/alcohol content reading is a .19, a high level that may partially be responsible for the patient's losing consciousness. Patient managed to vomit a fair amount of alcohol out of his system, avoiding more serious alcohol poisoning.
Patient is currently sleeping, breathing has normalized and vital signs are slowly evening out, but he will be taken to his private ward for continued monitoring.
This is the second time this month, and fourth time this year, patient has been hospitalized.
This formally ends this medical history entry.
Signed.
Iria Winner M.D.
^*-^*-^*-^*-^*-^*
Officers Mueller and Alex are currently questioning the arrested individual, Trowa Barton. Barton has initially been charged with possession of a firearm without carrying a license. He was arrested just outside of the southern emergency exit of The Crow, a bar and disco tech located at 7 Fairgrounds Place, Gotham, Metro City.
At 1:57 AM, Trowa Barton was taken into custody, read his rights, and moved to the 109th Precinct for questioning by Officers Mueller and Alex. His firearm was confiscated.
“Twenty murders, threatening the lives of hundreds of people, arson, resisting arrest, public drunkenness, and you were first spotted leaving the building with that blond kid, Winner's son, so kidnapping too? Man, you are totally up shit's creek, Barton.” Officer Mueller.
“That's not true. I didn't do none of that.” Trowa Barton.
“There's no point lying to us. Maybe we won't get you on all those, but we can definitely get you on the weapon's charge, and that is going to make you a prime suspect for everything else that went on there tonight. You better hope you have a damn good lawyer.” Officer Alex.
“I can't afford a lawyer.” Trowa Barton.
“If you make a confession now, we can try to have the D.A. not press so hard when it comes to sentencing. Darlian's looking to make an example out of fucks like you. You're looking at three years' hard time, at the least. Depending on how many murders they get you for you're looking at twenty-five to life.” Officer Alex.
“Or if you start naming whoever hired you, who helped you, who your bosses are-” Officer Mueller.
“I didn't kill anyone. I was hired to be a private bodyguard for the night. The club just let us all in, didn't even check for licenses or whatever you're all talking about. For Pete's sake, I was in a woman's bathroom when the alarms started going off and-” Trowa Barton.
“Oh, so a killer and a pervert! The jury is going to love that! Hahaha.” Officer Mueller.
“I didn't kill no one. I didn't fire a single shot.” Trowa Barton.
“You were drunk! Probably hopped up on meth or some other drug too. Your word won't be worth shit.” Officer Alex.
“I wasn't drunk or high or nothing like that. I didn't have anything.” Trowa Barton.
“Then why do you reek like booze?” Officer Alex.
“It's because I was taking care of Quatre. He threw up on me.” Trowa Barton.
“Oh yeah, the kidnapping charge. Whooo, you are in-” Officer Mueller.
The door opens.
Captain Lucrezia Noin enters.
Officers stand at attention.
“At ease.” Captain Noin. “This the kid you brought in from the bloodbath at the Fairgrounds?”
“Yes, Captain. We were just in the process of questioning him.” Officer Alex.
“Leave him to me.” Captain Noin.
“But-” Oficer Alex.
“Now!” Captain Noin.
Officers Alex and Mueller salute and leave.
Captain Noin reviews the case file.
“You are aware that everything in this room is being recorded and that it can and will be used if you are brought to trial?” Captain Noin.
“Yes.” Trowa Barton.
“Well then listen to me good here, Barton, because I am up to my ears in dealing with this mess and I don't have the time to screw around with someone being held on a possibly unrelated misdemeanor charge. I'm going to be straight with you here; that charge will be dropped if you cooperate with us. But if at any point you ask for your lawyer, I can't cut you a deal without one. I don't have time to do that, so if you ask for your lawyer, all bets are off and you're going to be held to face trial. Understand?” Captain Noin.
“Yes.” Trowa Barton.
“What were you doing at The Crow tonight? And no bullshit, because I know more than you think, and I'll see you stewing in the can for as long as possible if you jerk my chain.” Captain Noin.
“I was hired as a bodyguard. I was protecting my client, which is why I had that pistol there. The club let us-” Trowa Barton.
“What is your client's name? Who were you supposed to guard?” Captain Noin.
“Los... Losman? I think his name was Losman. Something like that.” Trowa Barton.
“Why did he hire people like you to guard him? What was he afraid of?” Captain Noin.
“I have no idea. The only question I asked was how much I was going to get paid.” Trowa Barton.
“Real mercenary of you, huh?... Was Losman involved in drugs or organized crime?” Captain Noin.
“No more than any other respectable businessman, I'd reckon. How should I know?” Trowa Barton.
“Anything suspicious going on in his VIP room? Anyone coming and going, or making lots of phone calls? An argument ever break out?” Captain Noin.
“I didn't notice anything.” Trowa Barton.
“Well, we already know there were drugs, as I'm sure you did too. What were the names of the people in Losman's room?” Captain Noin.
“I'm not a rat. I'm not pinning anything on nobody.” Trowa Barton.
“The names would only be used to identify the victims.” Captain Noin.
“What?” Trowa Barton.
“Almost everyone in Losman's VIP room was killed, shot to death. We just got a witness saying that Quatre Winner and someone fitting your description were there for most of the night, but left before the murders took place. Why did you leave? Did someone tip you off?” Captain Noin.
Trowa Barton remains silent.
“It would be almost impossible to tie you in with the murders, but, like I said, that weapon's charge can land you in jail for at least a few months.” Captain Noin.
“The two hired with me went by street names, Slender and Diesel, I think I recall. A guy called 'the B man' sold some drugs to one of the guys there, I don't know his name. He had dark blue hair, blue eyes, medium build, about half a foot shorter than I am. I guess you'd call him suspicious, but he didn't seem like he was there to kill no one. All I'd heard is that the guy who hired us was afraid of some mafia guy, someone he pissed off somehow. Aside from that, I really can't tell you much about anyone there. I'm sorry, but that's the truth.” Trowa Barton.
“One last question for tonight. You're going to be staying here overnight, I have more things to ask you about what happened at that club. But for now, just tell me one more thing.” Captain Noin.
“What is it?” Trowa Barton.
“Where were you on the night of December 17th?” Captain Noin.
“Huh? The... But that was months ago. I don't know. I was probably working or at home. Why?” Trowa Barton.
“No reason.” Captain Noin.
Trowa Barton strongly matches the description of the masked criminal wanted in the murder of Officer Oz and in the attempted murder of Officer Barbuta. There is, however, still a lack of evidence with which to bring him to trial for said crime. Surveillance and a follow-up investigation will be pursued.
^*-^*-^*-^*-^*-^*
“Hey, hey! Where do you think you're going?”
“Home.”
“Are you kidding me? We had a deal! You can't just- Hey! Wait up!”
“Would you keep quiet? This is a residential area.”
It is almost pitch black in the early hours before dawn. All the windows are ink dark and even the wariest of dogs yawn slightly if still awake. There is almost absolute silence amidst the brown stone houses, where in a few hours cars will be honking impatiently and garbage trucks will rumble heedlessly as the millions of people in Metro City wake up for another day.
A few birds are chirping and there are sirens in the far away distance.
“God fucking damnit, Heero, we had a deal!” a voice hisses, vexed.
There is the sound of feet stopping short on the concrete sidewalk, then:
“Would you shut up already?” The answer is a suppressed growl, a voice choked up almost. “You shouldn't be here. It was a mistake to let you tag along...”
“Well you did, and guess what? I was pretty damn helpful if I do say so myself. Maybe your big, sexy dome-piece is too big for you to admit it, but we make a pretty good team. No, no, don't you start walking away or I'll scream bloody fucking murder and wake every Tom, Dick and Jane on this street up.”
“I'd blow your head off before you even got a word out.”
“Oh yeah, and like a loud-ass gunshot would be better.”
“Fine. Fine. Say whatever you want. But you only have one minute. I'm already late reporting in...”
An invisible clock starts ticking in one's head as his companion folds his arm and thinks. This one bites his lip, looking at the pavement and wrestling with what words to use. The streetlights glimmer with an artificial orange tint in his long chestnut brown hair. He heaves a sigh after wasting ten precious seconds.
“I could tell you weren't comfortable with me being in the room when all that shit went down... I know that was some pretty personal stuff, and I'm sorry about what happened to your mother and-”
“It is personal,” the figure in shadow, white dress shirt betraying his position, cuts in. “It has nothing to do with you, so just forget about it and keep your mouth shut.”
“NO! You shut up and listen!” the long-haired one raises his voice, startling the other. “You gave me a minute and I'm going to say what I want in that minute and you're going to fucking listen to me. Alright?”
There is a moment of silence before the long-haired figure takes a breath and continues, “I'm sorry about your mom.” He pauses, waiting for a reaction from his companion. There is none visible. “I was an orphan and never had any flesh and blood relative I could give two shits about, so I won't lie and say I have any clue what you're going through right now. But I am honestly sorry.”
The other says nothing, but if there was light enough to see, his eyes would clearly be silently thanking his friend.
A friend...
How long had it been since he'd had one of those? Even when he was younger, they had only been kids who he simply either played with, hung around with, or who pretended to be his friend because they were afraid of him or wanted something from him.
“If you're going to go after these guys, these ZEAL guys or the Order or whoever, it ain't going to be a cakewalk. I know you want to do it alone, take on the world all by yourself, whatever. But you don't need to, not alone at least.” The long haired youth takes a step forward, and another.
“I don't know if there's anything I can do,” he continues.
And this one, was he a real friend? The distance between them closes.
“But I want to.” He puts a hand on Heero's shoulder, rubbing comfortingly, thumb barely grazing the skin of the boy's neck.
“You don't need to face everything alone,” Duo whispers, leaning closer.
Their foreheads are almost touching, each breath filled with the one across from them, taking each other in. Even in the darkness their eyes find each other's, cobalt trying to shut out violet, violet trying to pry cobalt open. When they breathe in they can taste each other.
“So please,” Duo murmurs, his breath fluttering on Heero's lips, “let me.”
Duo's lips feel so warm, so soft. Heero instinctively opens his mouth as if to swallow him inside, closing gently on Duo's upper lip. The taste is of light lemons. Duo kisses back, almost gently gnawing on Heero, sucking slightly on the soft pink flesh of the other. Duo wraps his arms around Heero's neck and leans in closer, making the kiss deeper. Their bodies brush together and they breathe into each other, faces growing hot on a cold March night.
For a moment Heero had never known anything better.
Then Duo stuck his tongue in. Cobalt flashed wide at the invasion. A strong hand pushed Duo away, resisting the urge to maintain contact with Duo's bare midriff.
Duo simply stared at Heero for awhile, eyes asking 'why?'
“Your minute is up.”
It was just another person wanting something from him... Just another person trying to get something out of him.
“I have to report in.” Heero turns away.
“You think you can treat me like shit after I helped you out like that? Huh?!” Duo yells, shivering now as the warmth begins to leave his body. “You... You fucking bastard. You're a fucking asexual piece of shit! You hear me!?”
“Stop yelling!” Heero yells, turning around.
A dog begins to bark.
“Look, just leave me alone.” Heero shakes his head, looking around nervously for any lights indicating waking eyes. “It's better for both of us that way.”
“You really think so?” Duo asks, eyes darting to the ground.
“Yes, yes I do.”
“Fine. Get the fuck out of my sight. I don't ever want to see you again anyway.”
-end “Before the Blood Dries”
-end “A Crow Left of the Murder” Page IV in
Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation
Next: Act V: “Steps Down an Unlit Path.”
MasamuneEHS@hotmail.com
Notes: Yes, all we get is the (important) first page of Noin's report.
The map for this part is mostly Metro police and fire locations, as well as an in-map, larger overall view of the Fairgrounds District.
Cop Lingo: Some of this stuff I made up, but may use again.
HC request: High Caution request. Means potential danger for officer, at least as claimed in 911 call.
PC: Abbreviation for Patrol Car.
702: Code for “Shots Fired - Potential Hostile”.
A: A level priority, the highest level.
774: Possession of a firearm without a license.
ID Notes:
Kamille Bidan - Previously referred to as “the Z man”. Main character in Zeta Gundam, hence his street name, oh so clever... not... Here he is a young, up and coming drug dealer in Metro City.
Iria Winner is Quatre's older sister (youngest of the Winner daughters) in Wing, the one who takes care of him after the L4 incident. Like in the show, here she is a doctor, Quatre's personal one at that.
Note:
Sorry about not including Trowa's getting arrested. It just didn't work as a 1st person POV in the previous chapter, and I felt the police report and recording were enough to catch people up on what had happened.