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"Friends "Written By: Karina
Series: Friends Pairings: 2+6 Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence. Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the characters. That’s the way it is. Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.
Aussie spelling and unbetaed. Summary: When Milliardo Peacecraft is abducted
and left to die a solitary death Duo Maxwell decides to take a hand
in the proceedings.
Ignorance could be bliss. Ignorance could also be summed up in a tally of lives. Lives already lost and lives yet to be lost. A little more than three hours ago he had not suspected Zechs Marquise, aka Milliardo Peacecraft, of being the Black Opal. Possessing this knowledge presented him with the task of acting before unpleasant consequences could result. Conspiracy always led to unpleasant consequences and this particular instance had the potential to be more than merely unpleasant. What he knew, little as it was, was sufficient to incited panic before wiser heads could prevail. He had asked dangerous questions and in doing so he had revealed his interest in the forbidden game of espionage, assassination and the age old art of backstabbing and string pulling for personal gain. There must be repercussions as a result of his discovery. It was not just he who was now involved and about whom he must worry. By association others who knew nothing of the sordid world of political intrigue would be dragged into the matter. //We are all targets.// The greatest danger to himself, to those he cared for and those who relied on him, would come in the next seven to fourteen days. It was feasible that for as much as a month he must guard what he held most precious against the panicked reaction of those who controlled the operation he could expose to the public, and to certain private concerns who actually had the means to do something about it. Black Ops. Preventers made use of it, Une had admitted it. Other government agencies and no few private concerns would also have used the specialist unit. There was a reason why such units were banned in this time of peace, and those people of influence and position who were involved would be inclined to do anything necessary to keep their identities secret. Including setting Black Opal on his heels. If what he suspected was true of Milliardo Peacecraft then that was the last thing he wanted. There were certain things even he could not protect against and if his assumption was anywhere near the reality, going up against Black Opal was not something he was particularly keen to attempt. He would far prefer Milliardo become an ally. He had to wonder just how deep in the government this organization had its roots. How deeply must he reach to get his message across? The only politician he knew for certain did not know of the group was Relena Darlian, and she was the one politician he would not choose to confide in. Not with this information. He would not be able to keep from her the knowledge that her brother was the Black Opal. That would not only politically embarrass her, but it would further darken her view of her brother and Quatre suspected Milliardo had gone to great lengths to protect her. Relena worked hard at furthering the peace and the pacifists had control of the Senate and Council of Representatives. A week could be a long time in politics and if it became public knowledge that an elite agency existed, superseding even the Preventers and the ESUN Security Agency, then confidence in the government would falter. What need did pacifists have for elite operations units shrouded in secrecy? In a pacifist society, what need was there for political assassination? Did the world and colonies not now work together for the furtherance of all mankind? What need was there for political and business oriented espionage? //Anyone who thinks such does not still go on is a bloody fool. It is as rife now as it was in the days of the Alliance.// Too often politically active Pacifists were too one sided, too blinded by their ideals to see what was happening about them. Sometimes this could be an advantage and someone was making use of the Pacifists tendency to think all the world desired peace as much, and in the same way, as they. They had too much faith in their fellow man. There would be a core group who knew about the Operations Unit. A limited number of people in highly influential positions, who pulled the strings, determined the assignments and dictated the actions to be taken. He needed to determine the identities of this group and ensure they knew to leave his people and his family alone. He was more than a successful business man. If they targeted Winner Enterprises, or the Winner Corporation and their many and varied subsidiaries, the repercussions would rock the entire Earth Sphere Unified Nation. At what point did a business conglomerate cease to be just a business concern? The corporation his father had headed and lost to Oz had grown beneath his guiding hand. It had not been easy to claim his place at the helm but he had persevered and he had proven his worth, and the coffers of the Winner fortune overflowed. That overflow he poured back into the business, expanding their interests, improving the living conditions of those who worked for him and those who benefitted from the products they provided. If anyone was to pull down the empire he had built and carefully guided, then he had no doubt the ESUN itself would feel the repercussions. He needed to survive long enough for those who thought they were in control to realize just how big the Winner interests were. He needed to wait for someone to do the number crunching and determine the disaster for stability the loss of the corporation would spell for them all. If there was no care for the people, there would at least be a care for their own wallets. He would need to set his watchdogs to observing the share market and trace the shares sold over the next two weeks. That would confirm for him certain identities and give him an indicator of who might be involved. They would dump their Winner stock as quickly as they determined to take him down. He would need to be discerning and quickly determine the most dangerous of those who would mark him. Of course, if he could manage a few words with Zechs Marquise he would learn a lot more. The man would know who pulled the strings, or at least suspect, despite all efforts to keep him under control. Quatre knew enough of the Lightning Count’s reputation to know he was not a fool. It made him so angry that in these peaceful days, when the world and colonies were learning to coexist in peace that a Black Ops Unit was operating. Of course one might say the peace was going as well as it was because of the clandestine interference of the group. Perhaps so, but the days of such units were long gone in his view and Quatre Winner was accustomed to having his view listened to and not easily dismissed. In the coming days he would need to learn how long the unit had existed and the identities of those who held the leash. The President should know of such a unit, but Quatre personally knew the current President and he very much doubted the man would sanction such a unit. He was a gentle man, intelligent, strong when he needed to be and dedicated to the peace, but with a great deal of respect for human life and personal freedom. Still, many people would say such about him and he knew the truth about himself only too well. He had killed a great many people and his every waking moment was his attempt to atone for their deaths. There would have to be a paper trail. You could not run any organization efficiently without keeping records. Having a chain of command was a must and that meant there was information to be found. Somewhere. All he needed was the resources by which to find it, which he certainly had, and a place to start, which he also had. Preventers had used the Black Ops Unit. Une had not attempted to hide it, no doubt knowing he already would have known before he fronted her. She knew he was not a fool and she would know to take his warning of repercussions seriously. Lady Une would attempt to talk down his knowledge, knowing he would fight back if they targeted his company, his friends and family. And he was not inclined to make of himself a target either. He would approach Trowa on his return and determine if there might be records to be found in the Preventer database, which would probably necessitate involving Heero to hack the system. He was, already, pulling his friends into the mess and their involvement was inevitable. They would not stay out of the matter once they knew he had involved himself, and while they would call him all kinds of fool, he knew he could not have stayed out of it. There were few people braving the icy streets of New Port City this night. Many of the primary streets would become nothing more than wind tunnels in this weather and that was to his advantage. If his estimation of Lady Une was accurate, she would not have called in to report his interference in the matter as yet. She would be considering the repercussions and how well she might understate the fact he knew of the group, but she was well trained and she would report. If he was lucky he might have as much as an hour before the hounds began to hunt. The car sped through the night and he watched the deserted streets in brooding silence. The world continued on, driven forward by the relentless passing of the hands of the clock. The world did not care for the fate of one Quatre Winner, or for his friends and employees, or his family. The Earth was solid, real. More real, more permanent than the people who walked it’s surface. The Earth would not care if he lived or died. Unfortunately, certain people would care about his knowledge and what he would choose to do with it, and how he could affect them and their operation. The common man would care very much if he was taken down in haste and with little thought for the consequences. He reached for the intercom and drawing a deep breath made a note of the time. Inclement weather or not, even in New Port City there were businesses that traded all night. He should know; many of them belonged to him. “Take the next left and pull in behind the service station.” The world was slowly changing. Not enough years had passed and the wars were still prominent in people’s memories. Business was prospering; the recession ending, goods and services were becoming more available and affordable. He had worked hard to ensure business recovered and, in Sanc’s case, that businesses succeeded. Sanc more than most countries on Earth had suffered from the war, never really recovering under the hand of the Alliance Governor appointed to keep its people subdued. The invasion of Romefeller forces leading to the fiasco of Queen Relena had not helped matters, but since peace had come every effort had been made to remake a ruined country. What he had helped to build, sweating and labouring along side everyone else, he could pull down more easily than it had taken to build it. Most people gave not a thought to the complexities of government and big business, unless it impinged on their personal world and made commodities scarce, or disrupted services they required. Then they cursed long and loud. He had no intention of ruining Sanc, but it was inevitable that at least one demonstration on his part would be required to get his point across. He would need to demonstrate to those hiding in dark places the consequences of attempting to pull down an integral part of the business community. He needed to ensure his people were safe, and he would no more shirk the necessities of this battle than he had shirked what had needed to be done during the war. Conspiracies invariably led to people being hurt; and, unfortunately, to a body or two. He was determined that body would not be his own, that of his lover or his friends. The telephone was in his hand again and he had no conscious memory of punching in the number, but the soft burr of the ring tone was there and then a voice he recognized. “Abdul. Prepare site four.” There was a moment of silence on the line and then quiet acknowledgement of the instruction given. Satisfied Quatre broke the connection and sighed. It had, irrevocably, begun. t.b.c.
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