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"Without Virtue"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Drama, angst, Character Death, violence,
gore, language, drug use, language, yaoi sex, het sex, language, AU Pairings: 2xSolo, 6x3, 1x2x3, 5xM, 5x H, 4x S,
4x R, 13x 6, 13x?, probably a few more as well. Summary: "When virtue has slept it arises invigorated." - Nietzsche. A darktale of violence, lust, and vengeance in a city without justice.
" Without Virtue"
This is the last time, Meilin assured herself as she stealthily rose from the bed and gathered her discarded clothes as silently as possible. The absolute last time that I sleep with my boss. She took her bundle of clothes to the bathroom and gently closed the door before she turned on the light. Her reflection was awful – slightly bloodshot eyes, smeared makeup, and her hair was bunched at odd angles. She groaned and looked longingly at the empty shower stall. But he hated it when she showered here. Hated it when she did anything that took this from a casual fling to something that could even border on a committed relationship. I don't fucking care, Meilin silently raged. I'm done with this shit. Defiantly she turned on the water in the shower and smirked at the loud rush, a sign of the excellent water pressure and high quality plumbing fixtures. Neither or which she had access to. L5 was a strange quarter – they were all strange, for sure – but L5 wasn't an industrial wasteland like L2 or a financial bastion like L1, not a sleek, dangerous underworld like L3 and certainly not an utopian suburb like L4. Instead, L5 was a combination of all the other quarters – and the populace ranged from dirt poor to extravagantly rich. She fell in the middle – the lower part of the middle, to be sure – but her lover, her boss was definitely in a class with the extravagantly rich. The shower felt like heaven, and she allowed herself a full fifteen minutes under the scalding spray of water. She used his soap and shampoo and felt instantly jealous as she lathered her hair and the heavenly scent of jasmine and honey filled her nostrils. What a hedonist, she thought angrily. It also explained why his hair was always so silky smooth. His hair was so perfect that she had started to wear hers pulled back, just so he wouldn't try to run his hands through it and feel all of her split ends and her own, less than silky texture. She dried herself off, gleefully used his toothbrush to clean her teeth, and finally dressed in her clothes from yesterday. Once, months ago, she had thought ahead and brought an overnight bag. He had gone through the roof – swearing that she was trying to move in and likely wasn't even on birth control as she had claimed. So, with only twenty minutes to get to work, she resigned herself to wearing the same clothes two days in a row. When she stepped out of the bathroom he was just stirring, his broad, golden back and the rounded curve of his sculpted ass the only things visible. He liked to sleep with his head under a pillow – a wonderful metaphor for how he liked to live his life, Meilin often thought – and those delicious five hundred thread count cotton sheets rode low on his hips. Feeling reckless, she cleared her throat loudly. When he still didn't move, she crossed over to the bed and ran one hand over his spine. She would miss this, at least. God, his body is perfect, she mused as he arched under her hand and finally rolled over. As soon as he saw her, dressed, hair up but still noticeably wet, smelling like him, he scowled. "You used my shower." "I was disgusting," she snapped. "If you're worried about your water bill I'll write you a damn check." He closed his eyes. "This arrangement doesn't –" "This arrangement is over, Wufei Chang. I'm not doing this anymore." He opened his eyes again and regarded her with amusement. "You said that last month… and the month before that…" he sighed. "You're about to start your period and you're feeling overly emotional. It's just a female thing. In a week, you'll come back." He rolled over, giving her his back. Furious and impotent, Meilin lashed out and delivered a sharp hit to his kidneys. "What the fuck?" Wufei curled into a ball and glared at her. "You crazy bitch." "No. I am not coming back here, ever again." She stood up. "You treat me like a whore, Wufei. And I'm not. I get that I'm not the girl you want to bring home to meet your parents – I get that this isn't a relationship headed for happily ever after. But I deserve better than this! I don't care how good you are in bed, it's not worth you treating me like this!" He sighed again. "Is this about your article?" "No! Yes! Yes, it is!" "Meilin, I didn't reject your article because I'm sleeping with you. I rejected it because it isn't something that The Daily News should be printing." "Oh really?" It still galled her that they were the same age – twenty five – had attended all of the same schools – her on scholarships – had both spent four years slaving away at The Daily News and yet Wufei, with his family connections and his penis, was now an assistant editor while she was stuck writing obituaries. "Yes, really," he muttered. "You need to learn to distance your emotions and your work. You tangle everything up – and that is why we can't have a functional relationship. You care too much about things that don't matter." "Things that don't – you call the murders of Zayeed Winner and Thomas Darlian things that don't matter? They were perhaps the only City Councilmen who aren't corrupt and they were both running for mayor and now they are both dead. How is that something the people of Sanc don't need to know?" "Speculation and conspiracy theories. You've no proof that they were murders. Well, obviously Winner's death was a murder – but it was just a mugging gone wrong. And Darlian died in a car accident. You can't blame either of those on Romefeller and OZ so just let it go." "I can't let it go, Wufei! This is the future of Sanc! People trust The Daily News to give them the truth." "Your job for The Daily News is to write obituaries, Meilin. Not to go muckraking or stirring up trouble. Keep at it a few more years. Maybe I can get you a job on the society beat." She didn't even bother to hide her disgust. "I got into this business to make a difference, Wufei. Not to report the deaths of rich white men or to write five hundred words on the kind of lace that Relena Darlian chose for her latest cocktail dress." "No one really wears lace cocktail dresses," Wufei muttered. "It's more of a day time fabric unless we're talking black lace or –" Meilin picked up the nearest object – Wufei's laptop – and hurled it at his head. He caught it and glared at her in fury. "Don't you care Wufei? Don't you care about anything? I know you have eyes, I know you know what happens outside of your posh apartment and your glass office. You're an assistant editor for the most well read paper in Sanc. Don't you want to change things?" "Change isn't something one man can accomplish," he said after a long silence. She sat back down on the bed and held out her hands. "But two people working together… surely we could accomplish something?" Wufei stared at her hands for a moment and then turned away. Fighting back tears, Meilin rose to her feet and walked out of the room
Things were always slow on Tuesdays. By noon, Meilin had typed up the seven obituaries to be printed in the next day's paper and was done for the day. Of course there had been more than seven deaths the previous day – by her estimate there were at least two dozen, likely more – but The Daily News didn't print obits for the denizens of L2 or L3. No one, Wufei had once told her, cared if a street rat or a prostitute died. She waited until the other desks around her cubicle had cleared out as everyone took lunch before she logged on to the internet and pulled up a website that, if her colleagues knew she looked at, would get her fired. Of course, she wasn't just looking at The Nightly News. She wrote it. Four months ago, in the middle of one of their frequent arguments, Wufei had shouted at Meilin that if she hated working for The Daily News so much she should just start her own paper. So she did. The Nightly News was everything the Daily wouldn't print: stories about crooked cops, rigged elections, drug dealers, rapists – all the news that told the truth about Sanc that Wufei insisted no one wanted to know. Things that weren't important. But there were good things too – she took the extra effort to track down any stories of hope or success and published those as well. Because there was hope. There had to be. The first week she had posted the newspaper online she had had seventeen visitors –the second week five hundred. Now, four months later, over one hundred thousand people read The Nightly News. Wufei was right, though, they weren't the people who lived in the Core or L4 – probably not even L1. She was willing to bet that most of her readers were from L2, L3 and L5. The anonymous tips she received in her mailbox certainly seemed to indicate that – almost all of the leads for stories had to do with those three quarters. Two weeks ago two of her primary sources had stopped sending her information. One of those sources, "Falcon01," was now dead. So she couldn't really blame him for not being able to send emails from the grave. But the other, the "Jester" had simply stopped responding to her emails and seemed as though he had just vanished into the night. Meilin had come to rely on those two, not just for tips, but also for her to give intel to - she had met Falcon01 pretty early on in her endeavors, but she still hadn't met Jester and she had no idea what he did for a living. But whenever she gave him something, he took care of it, no questions asked, no trails leading back to her. She loaded two new articles onto the site – one linking Winner and Darlian's murders to the Romefeller Foundation and OZ – and another on the rise of crime in L2 linked to outsiders. That had been the last information Jester had given her – a list of five brutal crimes over the course of eight days, all perpetrated in L2 by thugs no one recognized and who spoke like outsiders. Her work done, Meilin decided it was time to start making new contacts. She knew what she was doing was dangerous, knew that Wufei was right to be cautious, even cowardly, about going up against Romefeller and OZ. But someone had to do it. Her first stop was the police station. She hated walking into the pristine concrete building, looking at the bright, seemingly honest faces in their navy uniforms and shining badges. Meilin hated hypocrites – and the police station was the single biggest gathering of them in all of Sanc. "I'm looking for Hilde Schebeker," she said to the nearest police officer, a woman her own age with long blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and seriously tragic eyebrows. One of those eyebrows arched upwards in disdain. "Trainee Schebecker is on the third floor, in the pen." "Thank you, Officer… Catalonia," Meilin read her nameplate and felt her stomach roll over. Of course the daughter of the Chief of Police would work for her father. That Catalonias were almost as infamous as the Bartons – and certainly as bloodthirsty and tied to family loyalty. "My pleasure, Miss?" "Long. Meilin Long." Catalonia gave her a thin smile. "Why don't I escort you to her desk then, Miss Long?" "Thank you." Meilin refused to be intimidated by this woman, and as she followed her through the police station she kept her head high and her shoulders straight. This was a den of wolves, and she had learned enough from "Falcon01" to know that the people working here would sooner kill her than allow her to expose the true workings of the police force. Hilde Schebeker turned out to be a petite woman with closely cropped dark hair and wide, dark eyes that seemed filled with intelligence and honesty. Just as he had described her, Meilin thought. Catalonia cleared her throat as they approached, and Schebeker looked up from a mountain of paperwork on her desk. "You have a visitor," Catalonia said. Schebeker looked at Meilin with a slight frown. "Okay…" Catalonia stood there for a moment. "I think I can find my way to her desk now, Officer," Meilin spoke up. "Thank you." The words earned her a fierce glare from Catalonia and a delighted smirk from Schebeker. "Very well." Catalonia turned on her heel and stalked away, her long blonde hair swishing angrily with each stride. "Scary bitch," Meilin muttered, and Schebeker laughed. "You're telling me," she agreed before gesturing to the seat across from her desk. "Actually, I was hoping I could interest you in a cup of coffee somewhere," Meilin said. "Really?" Schebeker had a skeptical look in her eyes. "Yes. To discuss a friend. An old friend. He moved away recently, and he wanted you to have something." Meilin hoped that was vague enough – she was garbage at this cloak and dagger nonsense. Schebeker's eyes narrowed and she looked around furtively before nodding. "Yeah. I can take my lunch break now." She grabbed her jacket from her desk and led Meilin out of the building without another word. As they left, Meilin couldn't help but notice Catalonia's icy gaze locked onto them, tracking them with the intensity of a predator. She shivered and forced herself to put the scary woman at the back of her mind and focus on the now. They didn't speak again until they were sitting down at a dive restaurant seven blocks from the police station. The customers all looked up when they walked in, but Schebeker's jacket covered her uniform and badges, and everyone went back to their food. It looked as though the clientele were lower class, working individuals. The only odd looking person in there – besides Meilin and Schebeker – was an exotic looking man with messy, dark hair and glasses obscuring most of his face. He was seated at a booth across the aisle from them, but his attention seemed to be completely focused on the salad in front of him and a cheesy looking romance novel. He was dressed like some kind of tech – white shirt, tie, dark trousers – and Meilin quickly wrote him off. "I'm a friendly person," Schebeker said as an opening after a waitress took their orders. "So I've got a lot of friends. Which one do you know?" "Knew," Meilin corrected. She watched as Schebeker's mouth hardened into a grim line and she nodded once. "He liked to read," Meilin continued, "and was a fan of my work." Schebeker arched an eyebrow. "I'm a reporter." The other woman gave a snort of disdain. "A reporter? For The Daily News? Solo thought that rag was a piece of shit. He only ever read –" she stopped herself from saying the name out loud, but her eyes widened. Meilin nodded and reached into her briefcase. She pulled out one of two manila envelopes and passed it to Schebeker. "I only met him a few times, but we… trusted each other. He wanted to protect you, and he didn't want you to get involved. But I convinced him you should have the choice. He gave this to me, in case anything ever happened to him." Schebeker took the envelope and stared at it blankly. "I always told him I wanted in. I told him I could do it, but he never thought I was good enough or strong enough." Meilin shook her head. "That wasn't it at all. He wanted to protect you from it because you were good and strong. He knew you could make a difference, but he didn't think the time was right." "And now? Now that he's dead? Now the time is long past." "No, Hilde, it isn't. Our time is coming – his time is coming." Meilin paused and sat back as the waitress returned with their food. Neither woman made a move to touch their plates. "What do you want from me?" Schebeker asked after a moment. Meilin frowned. "I don't – " "You do. I'm from L2, you know. I grew up in L1, lived with my Mom and went to good schools, but my Dad lived in L2 and I used to visit him once a month. I know when someone's trying to use me. If nothing else, Solo taught me that I couldn't trust anyone. So what do you want?" Meilin hadn't anticipated this kind of hostility or cynicism. Solo had always insisted that Schebeker was an innocent. Perhaps his death really had pushed her to the limit? "Solo and I used to work together," Meilin said after a brief staring contest. "I gave him information and he did the same for me. Nothing I print could ever be traced to him – I made sure to protect him." "Fat lot of good it did," Schebeker muttered. Meilin had to agree with that. She had spent many sleepless nights since Solo's death pacing her apartment – or Wufei's – and trying to think over the last few months, to remember if she had done anything that could have led to Solo's death. "He was willing to die for his honor, Hilde. I'm not asking you… I am, actually. Let's just be honest with each other. We live in a shitty city with shitty people in charge of us who want nothing more than to satisfy their own greed. I'm nobody – I publish an underground paper and I write the fucking obituaries for The Daily News. You're just a rookie cop with a dead mentor that every other cop in Sanc hated. On our own, we're helpless. But together, hell, together is the only way we have a chance of making sure that Solo's death is avenged." "You sound like your paper," Schebeker said after a minute. "Fire and brimstone – you're like Emma Goldman or something." "Only I'm not an anarchist," Meilin said with a smirk. "Too bad," Schebeker said. "If you were, you'd fit right in with the L2 crowd." "Do you know what he was working on? At the end? What could have led to his… death?" Schebeker scowled. "No. One night he was called in to interrogate an informant – he called me at home and asked me to come in so I could meet the guy, establish a connection. But when I got to the station he was already in the interrogation room and they wouldn't let me in. A few hours later I ran into Detective Merquise – Zechs Merquise – and he said Solo wouldn't be done for a few more hours and asked me to run the RAP sheets on anyone arrested or convicted of any crime in L2 in the last six months." "Sounds like busywork." "That's what I thought at first – especially since Merquise said that Solo was working on busting an L2 prostitution ring." "Was he?" Schebeker shrugged. "Could have been. He played things pretty close to the chest. But he never mentioned it to me. Anyway, I ran those RAP sheets and it was the weirdest thing… over the last six months, the only arrests involving L2 have been outside of the quarter." "Don't they have their own sort of justice system anyway? They hate cops in L2." "Yeah," Schebeker agreed. "But sometimes the cops don't give a shit and arrest them anyway – especially for things related to drugs and guns, if any of those start to show up in other quarters. They don't want to infringe on their own businesses, you know." Meilin nodded. "But even those… everything stopped six months ago. The last arrest made in L2 was for an assault charge on a guy named Duo Maxwell. Since then… absolutely nothing." It was beyond strange, Meilin thought, and she wondered why this hadn't caught her attention before. "No arrests at all?" "Not in L2. But anyone from L2 who so much as sneezes in the Core or L1 gets picked up almost immediately. The list of arrests… we're talking pages and pages." "Maybe the drugs and guns are slowing down in L2?" Meilin hazarded. "Nope," Schebeker said and finally picked up the grilled cheese sandwich in front of her and started to eat it. "If anything, Solo thought things were getting worse. Like they're preparing for something." This city does not need a bloody revolution, Meilin mused. "Duo Maxwell?" She repeated the name and couldn't help but glance at the second envelope in her bag, labeled with that very name. What were the odds of it being a coincidence? Schebeker nodded. "I tried to gather some info on him – quietly, mind you – but his RAP sheets pretty much tells it all. Assault charges, theft… arson… he spent most of his youth in juvenile correction facilities and a few years in prison as an adult too." "How old is he?" "Hard to say – no papers to speak of, which isn't all that uncommon in L2 anyway – but looking at his mug shot, I'd say mid twenties?" So he was younger than Solo – how had the two known each other? What would Solo see in a career criminal – a violent one at that – that inspired him to trust him enough to have Meilin deliver the same envelope to him that he wanted his rookie cop to have? "I'm in," Schebeker said after she finished her lunch. "I don't have Solo's contacts and I'm still a rookie – so I'm not even going to get decent cases for maybe another few months – but whatever I can do to help, I will." Meilin couldn't help but smile at her. "Thank you." Schebeker shrugged. "I don't need your thanks. I just need you to promise that you'll get shit done. Writing your fancy stories is great – but right now your paper is the only thing connecting those of us who want change. You could do more, to unify us." It was an excellent point, and Meilin found herself nodding along in agreement. "Oh," Schebeker said as they stood up and started to walk to the door. "If you want something to look into – try asking about The Circus." Meilin didn't bother to hide her disgust. "The brothel?" Schebeker grinned. "It's more than just that. Anyway, after they found Solo's body I started to tail Merquise – I know he had to have something to do with Solo's death. Once a week he goes to The Circus, and he isn't the only one. A lot of the younger, high placed guys in Romefeller and OZ seem to be meeting up there at the same time." "Young men have… needs," Meilin suggested. "And The Circus will definitely fulfill them. But Treize Khushrenada shows up at the same time too, and you can't tell me that the DA would go there just to hang out with his buddies. Something is up."
It was still early afternoon when Meilin got off the subway in L2 and walked to The Circus. By day it was just a massive, gaudily painted striped tent shaped building. The parking lot beside it was empty and the bouncers were nowhere to be seen. But by night, Meilin knew, neon lights illuminated the tent, cars filled the lots, and some of the scariest men in Sanc guarded those doors and kept out any unsavory elements. Meilin had absolutely no doubt that she would be considered one of those unsavory elements. The Circus was the figurehead of the Barton Foundation's prostitution empire, and Meilin had always known, without having to be told, that a reporter nosing around would not be welcome. Still, the risk of being thrown out on her ass was far outweighed by the chance to uncover just what Treize Khushrenada, Zechs Merquise, and their merry band of hypocrites were doing here every week. When she ducked inside through one of the side doors she was grateful to find the huge, open building almost empty. A few people in coveralls were mopping the floors, the bars were being restocked, and overhead, two aerialists were in the midst of practicing their act. Meilin had been to The Circus once before – as a guest for Wufei's twenty-first birthday, before they had started to… whatever it was they did. She had always been enraged by his misogynistic views, but part of her was just curious enough about The Circus to accept the invitation and see it for herself. She had been every bit as disgusted as she had thought she would be, but she had also been mesmerized. This was a world she would never understand, with rules and currency that were beyond her grasp. Her presence was noted by the male aerialist and then the female. They slid down the long lengths of silk ropes and dropped nimbly to the group a few feet in front of her. The male was breathtaking – dressed in only a very brief pair of black briefs but otherwise completely nude and completely… gorgeous. The slight smirk on his face and the crinkle of his green eyes made it obvious that he understood the effect he had on Meilin. The woman was just as breathtaking, however. She was hardly more covered than the man – just a thong and bra covering her more intimate areas – and her wild riot of red hair was of a shade similar enough to the man's that Meilin wondered if they were related. "We're not open yet," the man said casually and pulled on a shirt and sweatpants that had been discarded on a chair. With a sigh, Meilin watched all of his delicious flesh disappear from view. "I wasn't… I'm not a customer." "Then stop looking at my brother like he's a piece of meat," the woman suggested. Meilin flushed and jerked her gaze away from the man's lean hips and back up to his face. He was smirking openly now. "Don't worry, she's jealous because the pretty girls always like me better," he murmured and reached out to tuck a loose strand of Meilin's hair behind her ear. She felt like swooning, actually swooning, at the warm caress of his fingers. The woman made a noise of disgust. "Get over yourself, Trowa." She shoved him away from Meilin and stepped close. "What do you want?" "I, ah, I was hoping I could talk to someone." "About a job?" Trowa asked, looking over her body. He shrugged. The woman, however, took her time examining Meilin before smirking. "What would a sweet little thing like you want to do in a big, bad place like this?" She crooned as she traced Meilin's jaw with one finger. Never in her life – not even during her most drunken states during college parties – had Meilin felt attracted to another woman. But the way that this woman spoke and touched her – it send a thrill of electricity through her body. "I'm not. I'm not here for a job," she finally managed. "Shame." The woman stepped back and, like her brother, pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants. "I'm a reporter," she said, at last able to think straight and focus without either of them touching her. They shared a concerned look before turning back to Meilin. "Really? Which paper?" The woman asked. "The Nightly News," she said without hesitation. Trowa chuckled and shook his head. "This is all you, Cathy," he muttered and, still chuckling, walked away. "I don't understand," Meilin said, forcing herself to turn away from the sight of his amazingly perfect ass and focus on Cathy. "My brother thinks The Nightly News is a waste of time and effort. I, on the other hand…" Cathy trailed off and smirked at Meilin. "I think you're cute and if you really do work for that paper then maybe you and I could be friends." "Um, I'm not really into –" "Relax, baby," Cathy said and put a finger on Meilin's lips, "you will be." "I really just came here to talk to someone about Treize Khushrenada and –" Cathy's eyes flew open and before Meilin could react she closed the space between them and kissed her. It took Meilin a moment to pull away from the other woman – she was incredibly strong – but she finally managed to stumble backwards. "What is wrong with you?" She demanded. "You might be cute, but you sure as hell aren't smart. You can't just walk into here saying his name and asking questions." "I didn't think anyone in L3 cared about –" "You thought wrong," Cathy hissed and looked around the room. "Listen, I don't have time now, but come back, tomorrow morning maybe? Take me out for brunch." Meilin frowned, but everything about Cathy seemed genuine – if intense and maybe a little crazy. "Okay," she finally agreed. Cathy smirked, looking very much like her brother, and kissed Meilin again. "Now get out of here and stop acting like an idiot. If you cause any trouble for me and my brother I'll kill you." She said it so sweetly that it barely sounded like a threat, but the steel in her eyes made it clear that it was a promise. Meilin nodded and made a hasty retreat. Once back outside, she took a moment to draw in several deep breaths and clear her head. As she stood there, however, a Sanc Police squad car pulled up. Catalonia stepped out of the car and regarded Meilin with an amused expression. "First the police station and now the brothel… at the rate you're going I expect to be running into you at the morgue next." Catalonia laughed brightly and gave a shake of her bright blonde hair, dismissing Meilin. She watched as the woman walked inside the club. "Crazy bitch," she muttered to herself and started to walk back to the train station. She had one more stop to make tonight – and if visiting The Circus had been… unique, visiting L2 would be downright surreal.
Meilin had only been to L2 twice before – once on a dare in high school from a friend, and another time two years ago with a colleague at work who insisted that the best Mexican food in all of Sanc was at a restaurant in L2. When she walked into a dive bar off 9th street that night, Meilin focused on keeping her face neutral and her posture rigid. She knew that intimidation was the main credit these people dealt in, and if she showed the slightest weakness she would be overlooked – or worse. "You need something, sugar?" The large woman behind the bar counter asked as soon as she walked into the bar. Meilin swallowed hard and focused her attention on the woman, ignoring the hostile glares from the other nine people in the bar. "I'm looking for Duo Maxwell." If anything, the level of tension in the room seemed to increase. "He ain't into Asian pussy," the woman said dismissively and started to wipe the counter. "He ain't into pussy at all," one of the men at the bar added and a few cackled at the joke. Meilin's face flamed as she realized they thought she was a whore. "Never seen him with an Asian man, neither," another added. "Do you think…?" "I'm not – I'm not here for that," Meilin interrupted before they could get started. "I know a friend of his and –" she had no idea what she had said, but it was clearly the wrong thing. Her words had half the men in the bar reaching into their pockets and drawing out guns. Fuck me, she thought. I am in so far over my head. "Duo ain't the friendly type," the woman behind the counter said. It was a strange parody of what Schebeker had said earlier in the day, and Meilin wondered if it was some kind of L2 slang. "No," she agreed, remembering what Solo had told her about him. "But he had one friend, didn't he? Solo Ford?" A few men exchanged looks and with a groan the youngest stood up. "I'll go," he muttered and threw a few dollars down on the bar before tossing back the last of his drink. "Why don't you take a seat over there, sugar?" The bartender suggested and gestured for Meilin to sit down in a booth at the back of the bar. Still not convinced she wasn't going to be killed any second, Meilin reluctantly followed the direction and sat down. "You want anything to drink?" She started to shake her head, but then decided a little liquid courage might be in order. "Do you have any wine?" The question unleashed more laughter. "We got beer, moonshine, and liquor, sugar. Take your pick." "Um…" Meilin hesitated before asking what brands of beer. "Rum and coke," she said in a rush, hoping that wouldn't inspire more laughter at her expense. "Uh huh," the bartender said, more judgment that Meilin would have thought possible in her voice. She sipped at the drink slowly, amazed at just how strong the bartender had mixed it, for the next fifteen minutes. Finally, just when she had given up all hope, the young man who had left earlier returned, followed by a stranger. The man returned to his friends at the bar, but the stranger looked around with a scowl on his face before his narrowed eyes settled on Meilin at the back. Meilin didn't know what he had been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. He was dressed head to toe in black – pants, shirt, and jacket – and a long braid of hair rested on one shoulder and draped over his chest almost to his navel. There was a hard set to his face, but Meilin was willing to bet that when he smiled the man looked extraordinarily beautiful. He sat down across from her and the mystery of just who he was to Solo was answered when she glimpsed the tattoo on his collarbone. Solo. She swallowed hard, feeling a rush of sympathy for the man across from her and for the man buried in the memorial cemetery six miles away. "Hi," she managed to say. He arched an eyebrow. "Hi yourself." "I, um, I knew Solo." She couldn't help but glance towards the tattoo. "Well, that's nice." She had been prepared for his hostility – Solo had told her that he wouldn't be easy to talk to and that he wouldn't be willing to trust her, especially since the only circumstance that could warrant the two of them meeting was his death. "I also know that you're Jester," she added. "Jester?" he echoed. "My name is Duo Maxwell." She rolled her eyes. "Please. I know you're Jester and Solo was Falcon01. I know your favorite movie is The Empire Strikes Back even though Solo prefers A New Hope." "Preferred," Duo corrected her quietly. "Preferred," she agreed. "So you're the one who writes The Nightly News?" She nodded and that sat in silence for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "I haven't heard much from you, since his death." Duo shrugged one shoulder. "Not much to tell you about." "Bullshit. Zayeed Winner and Thomas Darlian are dead. Ken Tsubarov is dead. Seven meth labs in the Core have been blown up. Something is going on in L3. How many crimes have taken place in L2? Crimes committed by outsiders?" He held her gaze. "I'm taking care of L2," he said after a long moment. "That other shit – not my problem." "It is!" She insisted with a hiss. "L2 is being attacked by outsiders. That other shit is coming to your front door!" He scowled and looked away. She watched as he fiddled with a coaster on the table, tapping his fingers against it. "I'm not Solo. I'm only good at destroying things, not fixing them." This much she agreed with. Duo Maxwell was good at killing things, blowing up things, and scaring people. He wasn't a politician, he wasn't an idealist like Solo, and he wasn't nearly as eloquent as Meilin. All the same, she needed him. "I know." "Without Solo –" "I've got his rookie on board." "Mother fucker." Duo slammed his hand down on the table, startling the men still at the bar. "Keep her out of this – Solo didn't want her involved!" Meilin shook her head. "He did. He asked me to give her an envelope if he died. The same envelope he wanted me to give you." She reached into her bag, stopping momentarily when Duo drew a gun and trained it on her. Cautiously, she pulled out the envelope and slid it across the table. He stared at it for a long time, at his name in Solo's handwriting, before he finally put away his gun and opened it. "You've seen what's inside?" he asked as he flipped through the papers. She nodded. "He left one for me too. He wanted the three of us to carry on. He needed us to keep working for change." Duo snorted in disgust. "Even from the grave that bastard is telling me what to do," he muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice. He put the papers back in the envelope and stuffed it into his jacket. "If you were any kind of smart, you'd pack up your shit and move as far away from Sanc as you could," Duo recommended. "Them killing Solo… it's a sign that they're ready to crush anyone who stands up to them." "And that's new?" "Yeah, it is." Duo glanced over at the bar and then leaned in to Meilin. "I made a deal with Catalonia a while back… told him that if he left my people alone I wouldn't touch his." "This deal… does it go back six, seven months I guess?" Duo frowned. "Yeah, until he broke it and killed Solo." "How do you know it was Catalonia?" But instead of answering her, Duo just smirked. "But you've… killed people in that time." "Not his people. Not his filthy cops. The average crooks – they've always been fair game. Just like anyone who steps outside of L2 loses our protection. But Solo – he was mine." "So this is personal, for you?" "Personal? Lady, did you even look around when you got off the train? L2 is a fucking warzone. Is it personal? You're damn right it is. Romefeller and OZ are destroying my home. Them taking Solo – no, that doesn't make it personal for me. But it sure as hell guarantees that Catalonia is going to die a real slow, painful death." The look in his eyes vividly reminded Meilin of that fact that this man was a very violent criminal. "What happens now?" "Now I start to take out Catalonia's entire police force. Not to mention deal with whatever retaliation he throws my way." Duo sighed and shook his head. "I'll give you what intel I can, but I'm not… really into partnerships." "You and Solo were partners." "He was the exception that clearly proves the rule," Duo muttered. "I'm not on your side – whatever quest for justice you're on… I'm not buying it. But I'll do what I can to help you." It was more than she could have hoped for, certainly more that Solo seemed to think Duo would agree to. "Oh," she had to mention as she stood up. "Do you know anything about a prostitution ring in L2 that Solo might have been investigating before his death?" Duo frowned. "No. One of the conditions for him living in L2 was that he kept his job outside. Only time he was allowed to even carry a gun in this quarter was when he was on rotation. He wouldn't have been investigating anything here." "Are you sure? Maybe he changed his mind and –" "He was from L2, lady. We don't change our minds." Meilin nodded, knowing from the look on his face that Duo was a heartbeat away from reneging on their agreement. "I…" she didn't really know what to say to him. "Have a good night." His lips twisted into a sneer. "Yeah, sweet dreams, sugar."
The subway ride back to L5 gave Meilin plenty of time to think, and while the day had been rough – a lot rougher than she had anticipated – it had been successful, overall. She had Schebeker on board, Maxwell was now a tentative ally, and Catharine Bloom… Meilin wasn't sure if the woman would kill her or kiss her the next time they met, but at the very least she was a new source of information that Meilin hadn't had access to before. When she got off the train she turned her cell phone back on, realizing she had left it off all day, ever since she left The Daily News. Not surprisingly she had four missed calls from Wufei, two within the last hour, and two text messages from him. The first message asked her to call him back, the second called her an idiot and a vain woman. She rolled her eyes and put the phone back into her pocket. She started to walk towards the main concourse, but someone bumped into her. "Sorry," she started to say, but there was a sudden tug at her briefcase and then it was pulled from her grip. "Hey!" She shouted at the thief and then started to run after him. "Give that back!" Meilin chased him down one of the annex corridors, originally built years ago in anticipation of L5 growing into a larger quarter, and smirked when the thief realized he had found a dead end. She dropped into a traditional wushu pose. He looked like he had a good sixty or seventy pounds on her, but Meilin was the youngest of three children – the other two being boys – and she knew how to fight. Before either of them could react, however, a sharp laugh rang out from behind Meilin. "How adorable!" Meilin frowned. There was something familiar about that voice. She turned to see Catalonia and two male police officers blocking her way back to the main concourse. "Miss Long, isn't it?" Catalonia asked as she stalked forward. "We just keep running into each other today, don't we?" Meilin looked at the two male cops behind her. They were both huge, hulking figures with sneers on their faces. "Guess that's what happens when you follow someone," Meilin said. In her mind she could see no way for this to end well. She spared a glance back at the thief, but he had tossed aside her briefcase and pulled off a hooded sweatshirt to reveal a police uniform underneath. Catalonia's earlier warning about meeting up again in the morgue suddenly seemed a lot more menacing. Meilin swallowed hard. "I haven't done anything wrong," she pointed out as all four cops closed in on her. "Oh? Haven't you?" Catalonia asked with a sneer. "Cathy told me all about your little chat," Catalonia said and stepped forward to brush lint from Meilin's shoulder. Meilin saw a red tinge under her nails – blood. So Cathy probably hadn't told Catalonia about their chat willingly. "And is free speech illegal in Sanc now?" Catalonia smiled. "We're working on pushing the legislation through," she said with a sigh. "But in the meantime, concerned citizens are taking the matter into our own hands." Very suddenly, Catalonia gripped a handful of Meilin's hair and gave a vicious yank. Meilin cried out in pain and horror as Catalonia displayed the tendrils of hair she had ripped out. "You really are a crazy bitch!" Catalonia only laughed. "Oh, if only you would last long enough to even begin to understand what I am." She looked over Meilin's shoulder and nodded. Before she could react, the thief turned policeman wrapped a gap around her mouth. "Our first step in limiting free speech," Catalonia assured Meilin. "Would you like to see our second?" She pulled out a wicked looking knife and, without waiting, plunged it into Meilin's stomach and jerked it upwards. The pain was sudden and breathtaking. It felt as if her insides were exploding and melting at the same time, and Meilin knew that Catalonia had hit something vital. The blonde woman reached out and gave Meilin's cheek a friendly pat. "Step three is making sure you haven't infected anyone else with your ideas. So I'll be paying a few visits to your friends… I'm sure Trainee Schebeker has something to share with me?" Meilin surged forward, but fell down to her knees in agony. Catalonia laughed again. "I think we're done here. See you in the morgue, Miss Long." Meilin watched as all four police officers walked away, joking with each other and behaving as if they hadn't just murdered someone. She tried to crawl forwards, towards the flickering light and the main concourse. The pain was unbelievable – so intense and all encompassing that it took every fiber of her being to just stay conscious and move. Amazingly she managed to pull herself along the tiles far enough to look around the corner, to see the bustle of activity and the bright lights. "Help," she croaked. It was a feeble sound to her own ears, but she couldn't tell if that was because the rush of blood in her head and the pounding of her heart were so loud. "Help me," she cried out again, louder. No one even turned in her direction. At the far end of the concourse, Meilin could see Wufei striding from the trains towards the exit. Of course he had worked late tonight – he worked late every night. Meilin felt a surge of hope. "Wufei!" He heard her – his step faltered and he frowned as he scanned the crowd for the source of his name. But he didn't see her. No one saw her. For the first time in her life, Meilin started to cry. She rolled over onto her side and curled into a ball, fighting the agony of her injury, and cried.
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