"The Darkest Reflection"
Written By: Impish
Rating: strong R
Pairings: main 1+2+1, background 2+3, OFC+5 and
4+3
Category: Duo POV with angst, action, drama and
politics.
Warnings: creepiness, more graphic images and
gore
Summery: The earth sphere has moved on into an
age of peace, but Duo is fighting battles of his own. He has reluctantly
joined the Preventers, and is surprised to see Heero sign up as well.
With an assassin on the loose and an increase in suspicious activity,
he’s beginning to realize the fine line between genius and insanity,
and how easily it can be erased.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing. Surprise!
And none of the songs or titles belong to me, either.
Notes: This is the second part of the chapter
I had to split up, so it’s just a bit shorter than usual. If
you've ever seen Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels or Snatch, you
might see a bit of those movies in here. If you haven't seen them…
well, you should.
"The Darkest Reflection"
CHAPTER 12: Diamonds and Guns
"The fact is, it seems, that the most you can hope is to be a
little less, in the end, the creature you were in the beginning, and
the middle."
-"Molloy" by Samuel Beckett
Life drives us apart.
It has a way of distinguishing people. Rich or poor, lucky or damned.
We are given titles and distinctions, categories that become who we
are. Killer. Druggie. Lawman. Savior. Thief. Hero. Liar.
We are complex creatures, becoming different things at different stages…
different faces in different places. It's only the faintest twitch
or twist of life that leads us to become who we are. So what exactly
is it that separates the Saints from the Sinners? It's circumstance.
It's chance.
If the Killer's life had taken the briefest of turns at any point,
could he have been something else entirely?
I saw a flash of red and a market square.
There were people running and screaming, everything was overturned.
And there was gunfire. Rapid fire from machine guns and individual
shots from smaller arms. Popping sounds, drilling rounds.
There were people falling, people crying, bleeding, dying. It was
all spinning around me; the only stationary thing in the whole scene
was a little boy who stood alone on the fountain, its water pink and
darkening to red.
The blur of the running people, the sharp sounds of shooting, the
abrupt cries and continuous wails, melded together like smeared paint,
the boy and the fountain standing out sharply in relief. He reached
up on the tips of his toes, and sprayed a mask on the face of the
Virgin Mary so she wouldn’t have to see what he was seeing.
I turned around and shot a soldier in the face.
My hand whipped out without warning, fingers wrapping around a throat,
thumb poised to crush. The enemy retaliated, fingers of steel suddenly
clamped on my jaw to snap my neck.
I opened my eyes and froze. It was Heero.
He blinked back at me, unmoving, and I realized we must have woken
each other up. We stayed carefully still, not surprised, but a little
unnerved at the position we found ourselves in as we stared at one
another, until I started to chuckle. Heero blinked again, and the
stunned line of his mouth broke into a half-smile.
"I'm sorry." He apologized with a little chagrin, letting
go. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep."
My hand dropped immediately, and just in time. The door opened and
Quatre peaked in. His sister, in a white coat with a stethoscope around
her neck, followed him in.
Oh, for god's sake… hospital again?
"Oh, Duo. I’m so glad you’re awake." Quatre came
to sit opposite Heero with palpable relief.
"How are you feeling?" Iria looked at my chart and came
next to Quatre to examine me.
I coughed in answer.
"I’ll get you some water." Quatre stood.
"Thanks, man." I said in a raspy voice, and I coughed again.
I had a mild headache, but didn't feel any remains of the sluggishness
from the poison.
Poison… there was something about poison. I vaguely remembered
a fight and a hand on my cheek. Swords and a knife. A deep, bardic
voice.
I shivered.
"Can you sit up for me, please?" Iria asked politely with
a serious kind of smile.
She checked my breathing and sinus rhythm, and then patted the bed
to indicate that I could lie back again when she was through. "We
flushed the poison out of your system. You actually woke quite quickly
considering what type it was. You’re really very lucky."
That part… the part before the fountains and the guns and the
shooting, anyway… that was real? God, I hoped so. I couldn't
go through that mess again.
"And what type was it?" I asked while she jotted something
down on my chart.
Quatre answered, handing me a paper cup. "It was a variant of
the one Sandman used to kill his victims. Since it wasn’t administered
intravenously, fortunately, we were able to get you medical attention
in time."
Heero muttered something about convulsions in the ambulance with a
dark glare, but Quatre ignored him.
"The strange part was that Forensics just confirmed that he didn't
only put it on his weapon, but yours as well." He told me, taking
the water back from me.
'Weapons,' I thought as Iria pulled out a penlight and checked my
eyes. She smiled at me and nodded her head professionally in that
way that doctors do that lets you know everything checks out without
them actually saying it.
Sword fighting… that's how I'd been poisoned. And Sandman had
said…
"He wanted us both to die." I said absently, then sat up
and Heero helped me prop up pillows. "He wanted to make sure
we killed each other. I guess he really did want to end the game."
"What do you mean?" Quatre asked fixedly. "What would
he gain by you both dying?"
"He…" My eyes snaked from Quatre to Heero. "He
said it would be beautifully tragic for one of us to kill the other.
I guess… he thought it would be even better for us both to die."
"But… why?" Quatre asked with confusion.
"I didn’t say it made sense. I said it made sense to him."
I said rather curtly, rubbing at my throbbing temple. "So…
how long was I out this time?"
Quatre noted the evasion with faintest twitch in the corner of his
mouth, but Iria answered the question before he could re-direct the
topic. "Just overnight. So, I suppose that makes it a little
over eight hours."
"I contacted the Commander when we brought you here and then
again about an hour ago." Heero interjected reluctantly. "She
wanted to speak with us as soon as you are able."
"Are you up to it Duo?" Quatre asked.
I nodded. "Sure. The most pain I’m in right now is a headache.
And I don’t see any drips anywhere, so I’m guessing I’m
not on painkillers, am I right?"
"That’s correct. It’s good to note there’s no
significant pain." Iria replied, scribbling something down again.
"Any tingling or numbness? Slowed responses?"
"I don't think so." I answered, slowly stretching out my
muscles to be sure. "Nope; feels fine." My arms dropped
back down and I looked back to her.
"Very good." Her pager beeped and she reached down to check
it. "I’ve got to go; I'm consulting on another case while
I'm on L4. Just get the nurse to page me when you’re finished,
and feel free to take ibuprofen for that headache."
I nodded with faint relief. I really hated headaches.
"Oh and Duo…" Iria stopped just as she was about to
leave. "Thanks for looking out for my baby brother."
Quatre scowled at her half-heartedly, but she was already out the
door.
"How 'bout you guys catch me up a little before I talk to Une?"
I stretched my muscles out again, making sure everything really did
check out okay. I winced discreetly when the wound in my side was
pulled. "Do we have a real I.D.? Or know who he was working for?"
"Tony Driver was obviously a fake, but he has no real records.
It's as if he never existed beyond the dozens of aliases he had set
up." Heero told me. "But you know how easy it is to not
exist on record, especially if you were born during or before the
Alliance's rule. Une has Colby's team trying to track down an employer,
but they haven't had any luck so far."
I nodded. Colby and the other two on his team specialized in hacking
and finances. If anyone could finish this deal, it would be them.
"Duo… you're going to have to think back… did Sandman
give any clues? Any clues at all?" Quatre asked intently.
I looked down at the sheets with a frown of concentration. Clues…
he'd certainly surprised me with all that love and tragic fate talk,
but clues? I thought back through his speeches to the question I'd
asked him.
My eyes suddenly widened in realization. "He said… he gave
me another poem."
"Do you remember it?" Heero asked quickly.
"I'll see if I can get something to write on." Quatre said,
dashing out the door.
I searched my memory for the exact words. Players… there had
been something about players, and gambling.
"But a player I am, as players are we all… gambling with
courtly…" I stopped. "No, but a player *am I*, as players
are we all, gambling with courtly lies…" What the hell was
that other bit? About falling, or dying? "Graceful… graceful
before the fall." I recited.
Quatre re-entered the room with a pen and paper, and we applied the
old codes to the new poem. The next half-hour consisted of the three
of us working out and double-checking the codes. Knocking out the
excess letters seemed to take longer than it had before, but we finally
worked the thing down to two words. Eleven letters that had us exchanging
rather wary glances.
Heero and Quatre had the decency to let me get out of bed and change
into some normal clothes before making the call. Heero had his cell
on him and dialed Une’s direct line as soon as I come back. We
had to wait around a bit longer, since calls from Colony to Earth
took a ridiculously painful amount of time, but once we were patched
through, we got Une on the line straight away.
"It’s Yuy." He said into the phone. "He’s
awake, and he seems to be fine." He paused, and then held the
phone out to me. "She needs to talk to you directly."
I took it from him. "Maxwell."
"Good to hear from you, Agent. Exemplary work in handling this
case." There was a definite hesitation.
"But…?"
"…But we got an ID on the assassin who tried to kill you.
He was Anton Rostislav, Yakov Rostislav’s bodyguard."
I held the phone away from my face. "Hijueputa!"
I cursed viciously for a few more seconds, whipping around and pacing
a few steps, and then put the phone back to my ear. That certainly
explained why the guy thought he could just break into my apartment
and shoot me in my sleep.
"I recommend staying in Olympia for a while longer." Une
was saying. "Just to be safe. Chang and Ren have control of your
cases for the time being. And you've been pushing yourself… this
would be a good time to-"
"I am not hiding just because I killed the Russian Crime Syndicate
Boss’s brother when he tried to execute me!" I growled,
pacing again.
Quatre's eyebrows rose.
"Maxwell. Be reasonable. You cannot risk compromising your partner
or yourself-"
I cut her off. "Fine. I’ll give it some time. But I am not
going to just sit here and take up needlepoint. Heero and I are going
to the Styx."
"The Styx? Why?" She asked warily.
"I think I got a lead. On the Mars thing." I responded,
knowing this was something she couldn't fight me on. "And it's
connected to Sandman. We think we know who hired him."
There was a weighted pause. "Do it."
I hung up.
"The Styx? The Mars thing?" Quatre asked, looking at Heero.
"Don’t ask me." He told him. "I don’t know
what he’s talking about either."
Quatre turned to me.
"The river Styx. You know, the one in the Greek and Roman underworld
you had to pay the boatman to cross? Also known as the slums of L2."
I tossed the phone back to Heero, who caught it in one hand. "I’m
only letting you know in case we get into trouble. It’s important
that no one knows where we’re headed."
"…because the head of the Russian crime family’s after
you?" Quatre said, deliberately.
I ignored the tone. "Yeah. You up for it, Yuy?"
"I’d rather you tell me exactly where we’re going and
why before confirming anything." He crossed his arms. "L2
sounds reasonable, but why the slums?"
I couldn't really blame him for the hesitation… I was actually
somewhat surprised this was the first show of obstinacy from him.
"I can’t really tell you until we get there. The best I
can give you is that we’re headed for the guts of L2-V08744.
And it’s a continuation of the case we’re on, kind of."
"Kind of?" He said with a pause of expectancy.
"We need to go to L2. It's the only way we’re going to collar
him. Even with the poem and the codes, you two both know it's going
to be almost impossible to get a warrant." I pointed out. "If
we go to L2, I can get enough to bring him down. If we go now, he
won't know that his man's been killed."
Heero hesitated. "Fine. Iria clears you and we’ll go."
"I want to help." Quatre said firmly. "It was my life
he was after, and besides-"
I hesitated. "Quatre, we're not headed for the nice part of L2,
but even in the slums, you'll be recognized. And besides, with the
contacts I have, it's really the fewer the better. I want to let you
help, but-"
"He can visit one of the satellites nearby." Heero interrupted,
and then looked to Quatre. "As an extension of the project you
just pushed through. You'll be close enough to help should it come
down to it."
Quatre gave him a happy nod. "All right. It's better than nothing."
"Are you going to tell me what Bosch has to do with the Mars
Project?" Heero asked patiently.
I shook my head. "Nothing. I didn’t mean Mars the planet.
I meant Mars the God of War."
"Now can you tell me where is it that we’re going?"
Heero asked in Japanese, walking next to me through the street. The
Asian population here was pretty much non-existent.
We had made it to the colony without any problems. I’d been back
to L2 plenty of times, but only to this colony in particular once
since before Operation Meteor. Despite the memories I had, it somehow
felt comfortable there. Like a jacket that’s so worn in it doesn’t
keep the cold out too well and if you try and wear it in the rain
you’re nothing but soaked, but it’s still better than nothing.
"To the Three Blind’s hideaway." I replied in kind,
stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets.
"Three blind what?" he demanded.
"Mice, what else?"
"… We’re going to ask three sightless… and I’m
assuming tailless… mice where our target is?"
I rolled my eyes. "Don’t be cheeky. Three Blind Mice, ice.
Ice, diamonds. They’re thieves with their fingers in just about
everything, but they mostly run jewels, thus the name."
You might be thinking that diamonds couldn't possibly be that big
a deal anymore, but jewels these days are worth more than gundanium.
The mines on Earth ran dry centuries ago, and though the synthetics
they make are pretty damned impeccable, the real things are as rare
as rocking horse shit and worth more than you could possibly imagine.
"…So we’re going to ask criminal masterminds where
our target is?"
"Don’t knock ‘em ‘till you’ve been one."
I growled playfully, poking him. "And yes, we are. The government
may think it runs the rest of L2, but these guys run the slums and
the underground. Illegal is their sphere of influence. They can tell
us everything we need to know."
"How are you planning on getting them to help us?" He said
pointedly. "In my experience, people like the ones we're talking
about don't just hand out information for free."
I blushed a little. "I, uh… did a job for them in 195. They
got more out of it than I did, so they kinda owe me."
He stopped in the street and stared at me. "What did you do?"
The sudden severity of his tone caught me off guard, and I stopped
a pace ahead of him to turn and get better look at him.
"I only did it for the parts, man," I assured him. "My
external sensors were shot, and I had to replace all the charges in
my scythe. Believe me; I’ve done worse for less."
"What did you do?" He ground out again, voice dropping even
lower.
"Jesus! I didn’t sell them a homeless kid’s kidneys."
I blinked, wondering that he was so upset. We had killed people together
after all. And he had stolen from me before, on one very memorable
occasion.
And then I realized how all that must have sounded. "Oh- you
thought…" I laughed abruptly and half-tackled him, slinging
my arm around his neck and ruffling his hair with a grin on my face.
"Don't worry, man. I just pinched something for them."
He pulled a face between vexation and relief, but didn't pull away
from the contact. We continued on our way with my arm draped around
his shoulders, and I caught a soft look in his eye as we walked on.
The streets were mostly in the same shape as last I’d seen them,
only there were fewer bombed out shells and boarded up buildings and
a few more bars and what looked to be low-rent apartments.
"How much further is it?" Heero asked a couple blocks down.
"Right here."
We’d come to a small, nondescript street. Our destination was
only a few doors down and being so close suddenly made me think of
something.
"Um… before we go in… you ever heard the Word?
"The what?" His expression was blank.
"The Word. L2 slang."
"I don’t think so."
"That’s a no. Well," I clapped him on the shoulder,
"you won’t understand anything that we say, then."
Listening to people speak the Word is a little like walking in on
a conversation between Collette and Marcos. You have no idea what
the hell they’re talking about half the time, and it usually
sounds pretty dirty. Of course, if you came from this part of L2,
you grew up bilingual at least, so the Word was one of my first languages.
It was mostly derived from the old rhyming slang spoken centuries
ago in England, I think. But, like any dialect, it had evolved since
then, sucking in influences from other dialects. Mostly bad influences.
The man who opened the door pretty much filled the space it had vacated.
But then, guys like him were usually hired for reasons like that.
I greeted him with a hard face. "Ay-up, Gov. I’m butcherin’
for a buster with the Mice for six. It’s Spade."
The door slammed. Heero looked at me, eyebrow raised.
"Just give it a minute." I muttered, rolling my eyes.
"Spade?" He questioned further.
I shrugged. "One of my old trade names."
A few minutes later, the door opened and the piece man escorted us
inside. We were led upstairs where two of the Three Blinds were sitting
on the couch, one drinking something so strong I could smell it across
the room, the other sifting through a smattering of diamonds, examining
cut and quality.
It said a lot for him to be doing so in front of us, really. He knew
that we knew what they were into, and he was telling us he trusted
us, while at the same time telling us he was had the means to take
care of us should trust become an issue.
The drinker was Ship, a genius when it came to vaults, despite the
fact he was always leaning on the bottle. He didn’t look like
a drunk, looked more like a puppy, really. But even stuck on the sauce
he was a crack shot and not to be crossed. Jag was the level-headed
one of the three, a good-looking guy in a skinny, Sex Pistols kind
of way. If he’d gone to school past the fifth grade, he’d
have been either running a corporation fit to challenge Quatre's or
lording over his own country by now. The missing Mouse was Squiggle,
and Squiggle… well, Squiggle had more issues than National Geographic.
"Day’s, Spade." Jag greeted, not looking up from his
task.
He waved vaguely at the lone chair set squarely before them, and I
took it, hoping Heero would catch the hint and play bodyguard.
My partner took his place beside me without hesitation, pulling off
an air of danger and casualty that fit the part I needed him to play
perfectly.
Ship was battered, as usual. "’s he on the job?" He
asked, setting down his glass on the table without actually letting
go of it, trying to get a good look at us.
"Bloody hell! No, mate, he’s no sharm. He blagged the vintage
gem for us, few crystals back." Jag reminded him cutting the
pile of rocks into shares.
"’At’s right- I remember. Even Squiggle couldn’t
get touch on the fuckin’ stone, ‘an there comes the yob
to nick it without a bit o’ barney. Couldn’t adam and eve
it. Apologies, Gov." he said to me.
"No common taken." I said offhandedly, despite the irritation
of being confused for a pro- again- even if Ship was good and plastered.
"Who’s the fish? You rob roys got a story?" Jag asked,
looking at Heero.
I chuckled that Jag had picked up on Heero despite his quick acclimation
to the setting. "Somethin’ the same. Where’s Squiggle?"
I asked of the missing third of their party.
"At the nuclear, appleing some chemicals." He answered,
putting aside the rest of the gems and nodding at one of the hefty
looking men standing guard behind us, who came around and took the
satchel Jag handed him. "To Bill the Bone, and make sure you
get the powder first, for fuck's sake."
I nodded knowingly. "He’ll be flying for days, then, eh?"
Jag looked neutral, but gave me a quick quirk of a smile. "No,
he ‘asn’t been sticking. He’s bombing ching."
My eyebrows lifted. "No shite?" I couldn’t imagine
Squiggle clean.
"No shite." He confirmed.
"Listen china, I’m lookin’ for a snapper’s dad."
I said, returning to the subject. "Rosy you can help me up?"
"You going to give us a peppermint?" Ship asked, taking
a swallow of his drink. "What's the crack?"
"The snapper was Sandman."
"Barry white, governor. That’s no shunt." Jag looked
at me seriously. "How’d you cock up with that bloody palo?"
"He meant to snap me. I took care of him, but I know who’s
bar steward he was, and I want to pin the bloody patriarch, in the
ink."
He whistled. "Cattle, Spade. That’s some shite you’ve
gotten into."
"Dun' I know it. You gonna lend a crash?"
"Abso-bloody-lutely. Fuck me. You drip-dried the Sandman, for
cattle’s sake. Who’s the lucky peter?"
"Gustav Bosch."
There was a deadly silence fit for a crypt. I heard a clock ticking
for seconds that seemed long enough to have been stretched out on
a rack and the uncomfortable creaking of floorboards under nervous
feet. And then Jag started laughing.
"Bloody hell, my son. What *have* you been into?"
I grinned back with relief. "Nothin’ but barney."
"Well, then. Let’s butcher into takin’ care of your
little problem, eh?"
Within twenty-four hours, Jag had us everything we needed. We knew
where we had to go to find Bosch; we had blueprints, we knew how to
get in, how to get out, who would help us and who wouldn’t, access
codes, shipment times and even his freakin’ social security number.
Better yet, we had even enough for a court order, and we used Quatre
to contact Une so she could talk to an A.D.A and get a search warrant.
But the other thing we discovered on the street was the way Bosch
would deal with Preventers. If he found out we had a warrant, we would
be disappeared before even reaching the project satellite and any
information or evidence would disappear right along with us. He had
the connections to make the whole deal go away, which meant Heero
and I were going to have to sneak in and find the data we needed to
expose him publicly or get an arrest before he caught on to us.
I did kinda feel bad for Heero through the whole ordeal, but he waited
very patiently until we were alone to ask me what the hell had been
said all day.
"Okay, um… short version of the meeting would be… general
greetings, and Jag reminding Ship where the hell they knew me from."
I pointedly skipped the exact nature of the mix-up. "Bit of small
talk including Squiggle's whereabouts, and then I explained who we
were after and why. Jag said he'd help, and here we are."
"Just like that." Heero said dubiously.
"Just like that." I replied with a rather puckish smirk.
"Duo… what exactly did you steal for them that would make
them go through all this trouble for you? It's not the easiest task,
dragging up all this information, not to mention how incredibly dangerous
and powerful Bosch is. Jag didn't even hesitate to help out."
My grin was downright wicked at that point, and I couldn't help but
be viciously pleased with myself at the memory of the whole thing.
It had been so much fun to take a break from all that killing to do
a bit of honest thievery.
"The Blood Dream Diamond." I responded, a laughed at the
blank expression on his face. "It was called the most valuable
object in the world in the pre-colony days, but it dropped out of
existence for a few hundred years. It was re-discovered in AC 125,
but when the Alliance was formed and several major museums were closed
down, it was stolen by a Romefeller supporter. I stole it from his
vault on L3."
"But where has it been since then? I mean, if they'd sold it,
surely-"
"They haven't sold it yet. A lot of the Aristos lost a shit ton
of money once Romefeller fell, so the Mice've been waiting for the
economy to recover. You may have noticed a lot of museums and such
re-opening. When someone- either a collector or a museum- has enough
money to buy the stone, Jag'll sell it. And the Three Blind Mice will
be the three richest SOB's in all of Space and Earth."
"Oh." Was all he said. "We should get prepared for
the operation."
"Yes we should." I grinned again.
Life drives us apart, but death levels out the playing field.
No matter what you lived like, no matter whom you lived as, you die.
We all die. The only difference was if those last moments were on
a battlefield or in a gutter.
Those last moments would soon be coming, but for whom it was hard
to say.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Diamonds and Guns" by the Transplants
~ Bombs going off in Sierra Leone
Taken' more shots than Karl Malone
Battle looms, your doom, injustice entombed
Who got the diamonds? Who gonna find them?
Who gonna mine them, when the time comes?
Diamonds and Guns, Diamonds and Guns.
It's a wicked world that we live in
It's cruel and unforgiving
Knock, knock, knock, who's that? It's Momma, son
Lookin' for the bitch who took the money and run
Now the daylight's gone and there's no more fun
And who's the fuckin' bitch who stole all the heroin?
Heroin, heroin, it's all gone
Smoked it all up, and now you got none
And now you look around and that's not the plan
This is not what you had in mind
I shot in heaven, now I cry
No one lives forever, in fact we all die
From those who bust shots to those who stuff cops
To those who serve rocks on all the hard blocks
Every last soul must pay the last toll
In the dice game of life, who gets the last roll?
Is it the one with the suit? The one with the sack?
The one who hides behind his fuckin' gun and his badge?
Negative outlook? Well that's how I'm livin'
And like he said, it's a wicked world we live in
It's a wicked world we live in~
The Blood Dream Diamond is based on a diamond I read about in some
article I've (rather predictably) misplaced. It's a crimson color
so deep it's almost purple, the only diamond of that color in existence.
The article didn't give an actual name for the diamond (I think it
also mentioned the name of its owner was being kept secret), but it
was called the most valuable natural object in the world.
~ * ~
Chapter 13
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