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"Operation Operative Operation"Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Email: asymphototropic@aol.com Rating: R Warnings: Language Summary: Someone wants to steal Duo's appendix. While its still in him? Pairings: 1 + 2 + 3
"Operation Operative Operation "
Part 10. "They were throwing it out, you know? It was stupid. A waste. Boy, I can't believe you're awake already. You really are weird. Strange physiology. Makes me wonder if you're a space invader. Different species. Someone from another galaxy." Maxwell eyed Ampirst. He didn't want to talk to his abductor. Just listen. This guy was going to nervously spill his guts to his victim. Better than spilling his victim's guts. But that seemed just a matter of time. Duo sighed. Shifted in bed as much as the restraints allowed him. A portion of his drug befuddled mind was assessing the tie-down. Very soft. The kindly kind used on combative patients. He could get through them if he concentrated. But concentration was still difficult. His eyelashes fluttered, his lids trying to slam shut. What he really wanted to do was sleep. Sleep for a century. The taste of sleep was thick as cream and honey on his tongue. And so terribly seductive. Sleep. Just sweet sleep. The sound of the kidnapper's voice irritated him. What an idiotic reaction. You should be scared out of your freakin' gourd, Maxwell, he told himself. These guys want your guts for garters. Once they get a hold of your appendix. They're going to decide they're already facing capital charges for the abduction. Might as well make as much money off their victim as possible. No way their surgeon was legit. He'd got to be one of those slimy bastards thriving on the poor colony trash population. Cutting out their kidneys and selling them for transplant. Duo knew what was coming next. They'd say they wanted him to cooperate. Maybe even offer him part of the profit. And if he went along with their scam, then after they'd sold the goods, they would let him go. Not bloody likely. "Don't you see? Pathology had this system where they would keep the frozen surgical specimens for a limited time. But as soon as they needed more freezer space. They'd just toss the oldest specimens into the recycler. A waste of valuable material. When there were plenty of places you could sell the tissues. Researchers wanting to buy the stuff for their experiments. So I just started selling the oldest tissues instead of tossing them. Who did it hurt? The patients sure didn't want their organs back. The hospital didn't want to sell the stuff. Their lawyers going on about liability, patient rights and such like. I found out I could make a tidy little chunk of cash off the stuff. And nobody was the wiser. But then, a few months ago, appendix stem cell research just went wild. People couldn't get enough human appendix tissue. Prices soared, straight through the roof. But the buyers wanted fresh material, not frozen. I could get thousands of credits per specimen, if only it was fresh out of the patient. So I took a chance. I started putting the old frozen appendix specimens in the place where the new ones were supposed to go. And selling the fresh specimens hot out of the patient and right out the back door of the hospital. Business was brisk. I was going to be rich. But I couldn't keep up with the demand. So I scouted some of the officers I'd known as players during the war. Sellers of black market goods, and such like. Its so easy in the military to order people to have appendectomies. For 'field readiness'. The officers order their troops into the OR. And I give the officers a percent kick back of the profits. Crank the machine. Turn the handle. An unending supply of fresh, healthy appendices appears out the other end. I can scarcely keep up with the sales. Don't think I don't know what these fools are doing with the appendix stem cells. They're not doing research. No. They're mainlining that shit like drug addicts. Fools think they will live forever, mainlining stem cells. Hey, its no skin off my ass what they do with the stuff. Quack medicine 101. I didn't write the book. But I sure as hell know enough to read it. See the profit in it. Make it mine. But now you come along. You're Duo Maxwell. War legend. Ex L2 street rat and gundam pilot extraordinaire. The ultimate survivor. I just couldn't resist. Surely people would pay mega bucks for your appendix? The crap you've lived through, man! I'm almost tempted to mainline your cells myself. I still can't believe it though. I put your damn organ up for auction. Starting at a million credits. Just for kicks, to see what would happen. One million smackeroos. Man, I can't even picture that much cash in one place. Can you? But we actually got bids on your damned appendix. You want to know what your little worm is worth, buddy? One million one hundred and fifty-thousand credits. Just for your tiny little shit back alley. I was going to sell it and be rich. You were going to be rid of it and be happy. Ignorant but happy. All would be well with the world, eh? But those damned pathologists just never can leave well enough alone. Started talking about a mid-surgery diagnostic consult with Infectious Diseases and Oncology. They were going to slice and dice away at my million odd credits, until there was nothing left but a dead visceral blob and a medical note where a legend ought to be. So I waited until Anesthesiology put you under for the appendectomy. They left you lying a good long time to let you sink deep enough under. I grabbed you off your gurney, dumped you into the clothes basket, into the back of the laundry truck. And here you are. All safe and sound. A very private little sanitarium, out in the middle of L1 nowhere." "What now?" Maxwell's voice sounded hoarse and muzzy. "You say 'how do you do' nicely to the wealthy lunatic with the highest bid. So he can see that you're the genuine article. Then our dear Dr Smithery-Joanes snips out your appendix for us. We trade it to the lunatic for the mega-credits. We slink off into the night. Leave you one hundred thousand credits in pocket change. You wake up a whole lot richer, and call your friends for a ride. That's all she wrote. What do you say, Maxwell?" "I wanna know what the hell's wrong with my appendix. Which means the pathologist needs to look at it. How will that happen if you sell it for spare parts?" "Fuck. I knew you were just wasting our time, Ampirst." Juloiskoe bulled his way into the room. "Just put the little bastard to sleep, and lets get on with the cash transaction. The idiot millionaire can tell its frickin' Duo Maxwell, even with his lights out. And if the buyer doesn't like it, tough shit." Sighing and shaking his head, Ampirst bared Maxwell's arm, wiped it with alcohol, and stuck him with the hypodermic. As he depressed the syringe plunger, he looked into his victim's eyes. "What'd you bother with the alcohol swab when you're gonna murder me?" Duo asked him accusingly. "I'm not," Ampirst began. Juloiskoe shoved the tech roughly aside. He grasped Duo's chin, forcing it up. "Do you see me, Maxwell? Our surgeon's going to slice you from chin to crotch. Open you up nice and bloody wide. We're going to sell your spare parts. All of them. Heart, both lungs, kidneys, liver. Oh yes, and your nasty little appendix. If its any comfort to you though, they'll probably bury you with your cock and balls still attached. Good night, pretty boy. You shouldn't have tried to mess with me."
Barton felt sick. What if their's wasn't actually the highest bid? What if the designated location was a fake? What if they were currently speeding in the wrong direction? He told himself, over and again, Maxwell was all right. The abductors needed the Kid alive. Nothing about appendectomy called for the death of the patient. In his mind's eye, he saw Duo, in a comfortable bed, sleeping peacefully, undisturbed, innocent. "They wont hurt him." He shuddered after he realized he'd spoken aloud. "I don't give a damn." Barton, thoroughly shocked, stared at Heero. Don't give a damn? Surely that was a lie. He'd seen Yuy cold and calculating. Determined to accomplish a goal and to hell with the rest of the universe. But not give a damn about Duo? "I don't give a damn," Yuy reiterated poisonously. "Hurt him or not. I'm going to shred them. For even thinking about Duo. Much less touching him. Shred them. Into bloody quivering little bits on the floor." "Oh yeah," Trowa's cock crowed. "Go for the jugular, Yuy." ~ * ~ |
