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"Dirty Job"Written By: ExecutiveShrimp Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs
to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not
profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Violence, angst, Lemons, Limes Pairings: 1x2x1 Summary: Duo is a masterful pickpocket and skilled but small-time con artist who always chooses to play it safe. When his best friend owes the wrong people a lot of money, Duo get pulled into a high-stakes plot to rob thirty-something billionaire Heero Yuy. The only way to succeed and save his friend is to push his own boundaries and get way too involved.
"Dirty Job" Chapter Three During a cryptic phone call Duo was given directions to an apartment complex at the edge of Corbeau Park. This was an odd meeting location for criminals. In Corbeau Park home values grotesquely exceeded the million dollar mark. It was where the people, whose names were on the downtown skyscrapers, called home - well, one of their homes, that was the thing with the rich, everything there was a shortage of in the world, they had in excess. Duo remembered the neighborhood to be small, a number of extravagant homes built around the original, sprawling estate whose first, eighteenth-century owner, a duke from France, lend the area his name. But in a world where one man's loss was another man's gain, the neighborhood bloomed as the recession hit. For every skyscraper that was erected downtown - because New York had gotten too expensive -, a monstrous, futuristic architectural marvel or hideous imitation of an old English manor was built in Corbeau Park. Preposterously large homes on expansive plots, circled by high walls. Duo hadn't been in the area since he was a wild kid and a group of them had boldly decided to pester private security guards. The exorbitance of the rich made him sick. Worse still was how superciliously they flaunted all they had in front of the have-nots. Corbeau Park was, as Duo discovered, a mere twenty-five minute drive - with overpriced cab-fare - removed from his own neighborhood, where families spent winters in the freezing cold because they couldn't pay their bills and the landlord had their heat and electricity switched off and where the elderly died during heat waves because regular power outages rendered the air-conditioning useless. The brand new apartment building the cabbie drove him and J.J. to was located just outside the rich neighborhood, but proudly overlooking it. The braided man could very well imagine the prices of those apartments facing Corbeau Park were criminally large. Nowadays, people have to pay extra just to see how 'the other half' lives. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to wake up every morning and open their curtain to that view, never mind pay top dollar to feed that festering inferiority complex. He looked up at the white building with large windows and small balconies. J.J. whistled appreciatively. "Wouldn't mind shacking up in here," He remarked. Duo rolled his eyes at him and headed for the entry. They had been supplied the code for the door so they wouldn't have to wait to be buzzed in. "You think he lives here?" The younger one wondered as they waited for the elevator to descend to the ground floor. "I don't know, J.J., I've never met the guy, remember?" Duo replied impatiently, "He's your contact." And that was exactly why he had such a bad feeling about this meeting; J.J. was a horrible judge of character. They stepped into the elevator. After five floors J.J. stated: "He seemed trustworthy." His older brother shook his head. "Don't do that. Don't make such a stupid mistake." "What mistake?" "Thinking that those kind of guys can be trusted. They are criminals, J.J." He frowned. "So are we." "And that is why no one should trust us either." J.J. scoffed because he only knew Duo as the responsible, honest substitute big brother. The elevator stopped and opened its doors. They followed the hallway to the apartment they had been invited to. The entire floor still appeared to be under construction. Their footfalls on the concrete echoed against the bare walls. Duo stared at the door, burdened by their predicament. With only two weeks left until Labor Day walking away was not an option, but if they knocked on that door they had no idea what kind of new, dangerous situation they could be getting themselves into. J.J., blissfully ignorant of his brother's inner turmoil, scowled at his inaction and rifled his fist on the door, producing a sharp, hollow sound in the silence. They were left to wait longer than Duo liked. What was going on on the other side of that door? It was making him nervous. The black haired younger man raised his hand, about to pound on the door again, when it opened. The two of them stared, helplessly perplexed, at the petite Latina who opened the door. "Bienvenidos!" She exclaimed and leaned forward to give them both two kisses on the cheeks. Duo tensed as he felt her hand travel along his body, subtly frisking him. J.J. yelped at her touch, but then gave her a wink. She stepped aside and held the door open for them. "Come on in, boys." Tentatively he made his first step into the apartment. The floors were concrete, the walls were white, there was nothing there but a desk and a couple of chairs by the floor to ceiling window overlooking Corbeau Park. Seated at the white desk was a man dressed in all black. Duo stalked over to him, followed by J.J. He adopted a casual stance, taking his time examining his surroundings and scrutinizing the man before commenting dryly: "I love what you've done with the place." The man smirked. "The view is all that counts." He had a slight lisp. J.J. leaned over the desk to reach out his hand. "What's up, man?" He amused him by shaking the hand offered to him. Duo produced the mysterious card J.J. had given him a few days ago and held it up with a quirked eyebrow. "So, 'Mister Smith', is that your real name?" He shrugged. "Nope." "Alright." He waited for the man to provide them with information, but he remained quiet, staring at them, sizing them up. "So... J.J. didn't tell me anything about the job-" "That is because I didn't tell J.J. anything." The person in question nonchalantly plopped down in one of the chairs. "So what's the job?" "I'll tell you when you're hired." "What the fuck is this? Some kind of joke? We don't have time for this." His angry voice carried in the empty space. "This is the job interview," Replied 'Mister Smith' coolly. He straightened up in his seat, folding his hands on the surface of the desk. "You see, this is the one for me. This is the last one. This job is possible thanks to years of laying down groundwork; networking. I'm not going to take any risks. I need to know if you are the right man for the job." He gestured at the chair across from him, next to where J.J. was lounging, making eyes at the attractive woman who loitered in the corner. "Take a seat." While glaring at Smith he accepted the invitation and sat down, stoically folding his arms in front of his chest. "J.J. told me you are pretty much a mind reader." "If a mind reader is your idea of the 'right man for the job', you are screwed. There is no such thing," Duo shot back flatly. "Then what does qualify you?" Duo uncrossed his arms and sat back. "You want to see the party trick?" "I do." He shot a look at J.J., then focused his attention on Smith again. He studied his features, his body language and his clothes. He went over the brief conversation they had in person and over the phone as they arranged the meeting. Every little detail was important, everything was usable information. He made a mental note of the lisp, the way the man moved his lips as he talked, the words he had used, the vague scar on his neck, his approximate age, his hairstyle, the suit he had put on, the shoes he had combined it with, the way he sat with his back straight and his hands entwined, the two thumbs fiddling idly. Smith quirked his eyebrow expectantly. "Well?" "You might not like everything I'm about to say," The braided man warned. "I'm sure I'll be fine." Duo narrowed his eyes at him, giving him one final once-over before he started matter-of-factly: "You have fake teeth. The lisp and what you do with your lips every time you finish a sentence gives it away. It is highly uncommon in this day and age for a man of your age to have dentures. Your teeth must have been seriously messed up. You did drugs, extensively. I'm guessing Meth, Meth really fucks up the mouth." Said mouth formed into a grimace. Recognizing his interpretation was correct, he continued mercilessly: "The fact I was able to tell you have dentures means you are not fully used to them yet. They're new. You probably quit your drug-habit recently. If you were still on drugs you wouldn't have given a fuck about your teeth. You wouldn't have cared enough to invest money in the state and appearance of your mouth. But nowadays appearances are important to you. I can tell because that is a nice suit and you wear it proudly. You probably bought it to make you feel powerful; new teeth and a new suit makes a new man, one that aims to impress those around him." He paused, noting the discomfort in his victim's eyes. "Too bad that when you bought that nice suit - recently - you didn't take into account what happens to most reformed drug-addicts: weight gain. The suit is brand new but it already fits your poorly. Your shoes, on the other hand, are old, well-worn and cheap, everything the suit is not. You have no eye for detail, your approach is crude and uninventive." Smith was obviously offended, shifting in his seat, pursing his lips. He had trouble maintaining eye-contact because that only made him feel all the more exposed. Duo's guesses were never anything more than guesses until the person started confirming their validity with the way they reacted to his observations. That was exactly what mister Smith was doing, as hard as he tried to appear unaffected by the analysis. Spurred on by the subconsciously affirmative feedback Duo dissected the man further, not able to deny that he liked being able to make him squirm. "You had a tattoo on your neck that you had removed with what looks like sub-par laser therapy." He nodded at the scar and then looked up at his short hair. "You were probably bald until recently, I think you've decided to let your hair grow out to cover more tattoos on your head. Tattoos that are probably gang related, part of a past that you have renounced. Given your overall 'reinvention', getting cleaned up, leaving the gang-life behind you, I'd say you were in prison until not too long again and since you got out you decided to make these changes in your life." He furrowed his brows in contemplation and estimated: "Judging by the length of your hair, I'd say you got out two months ago. You didn't start growing out your hair, hiding your tattoos until you were out of jail, because gang-affiliations are the only protection you have in the pen." The subject moved his hands off the desk and into his lap as he attempted to assume a more relaxed position, trying to hide the tension in his body, but he was practically quivering and his hands had left a wet mark on the desk; indicating a nervous sweat. "But you don't look or act like you are grateful for this second chance, I think you have a chip on your shoulder. You feel you have a lot to prove. Probably to your family - you think you are going to fool anyone wearing what is obviously a wedding ring on the pinky of your left hand? The problem with proving that you are a new, better man, is that all you know is how to be a criminal. You probably tried a legit job, for a little while, but you didn't like starting at the bottom and working your way up. You feel like you deserve to instantly be successful and be treated with respect. So you've come back to the only world where your name has some meaning, telling yourself and others around you that it is the last one. When probably you have said this - promised this - many times before." J.J. started laughing, at that point even his dimwit little brother could see the discomfort on Smith's sweaty face. Recognizing the braided man was done picking him apart, Smith took his time to regain his composure. He tried to be inconspicuous when he loosened his tie. He was probably feeling really warm by then. "So," He cleared his throat when he realized his voice had a different pitch to it, "That's it?" "That's it. That is the party trick." "Well, it's... somewhat impressive. But, how does it work? How do you know?" He loosened his tie further and impishly claimed: "Not that you got everything right about me, but you've managed to spark my interest." "The thing is, I don't know," Duo answered candidly. "All I do is pick up on cues; mannerisms, words, the details of your clothing. I make inferences about you based on these little things. I don't know if I am correct, not until you start proving me right by the way you are reacting. But until I get that subconscious confirmation from you, I have to run with it. My assumptions could be wrong, but I have to risk it to get anywhere. If I am wrong, your body language will inform me as much and I will adjust my strategy accordingly. If I am right, you start to trust me, you start to identify with me, because normally I would use the information I get to present myself as a copy of you. And once you start to trust me, you give me more and more information that I can use to make myself even more appealing to you because I can feed everything back to you. 'I'm a recovering drug addict too', 'I also just got out of prison', 'I get you man, I, too, want to be somebody'." "And what does this get you?" Smith asked. "Long term? The more we have in common, the more you will gravitate towards me and once you think I'm your best friend - the only person in the world who understands you - you won't hesitate to lend me cash, provide an alibi, or tell me where you've hid the spare key of your apartment. Short term; you won't think twice if I briefly lay my hand on you in a friendly manner, you are not alarmed, you don't suspect that in that brief moment I have just picked your pocket." Mister Smith shared a look with his female associate. "So, tell me what the job is," Duo demanded after the elaborate show-and-tell. "I haven't hired you yet," Retorted Smith coyly. The tall man scoffed. "Let's cut the crap, mister Smith. You may think that you can dangle this in front of us because we are desperate, but truth of the matter is you need me as much as we need you. We need a job, right now, and you are not going to find anyone - without a criminal record - who is better suited than I am." He had no idea if his bold, arrogant assertion was correct, but as he said, they were desperate, they could not afford letting this opportunity slip out of their hands. Smith nodded and smirked. "Alright," He consented, "You're in." He got up from his seat and extended his hand across the table. Duo cautiously shook his hand. "So are you going to tell us your name?" "You can call me Neil." "Neil what?" "Neil Smith," He replied slyly, shaking J.J.'s hand as well. "Okay, so I guess we're still not on a real-name-basis." Duo walked over to the woman to introduce himself, shaking her hand. "Angelica." With a mischievous grin she added: "Smith." "Of course you are." He turned to Neil. "So this is it? Just the four of us?" "It's as much as we need." The group gathered around the desk and Duo looked at Neil expectantly, requiring more information about what he and J.J. had just gotten themselves into. Neil seemed to enjoy the suspense and waited for him to ask him again: "So what's the job?" There was no veiling his impatience. Neil leaned forward and picked up a suitcase that had been hidden from view behind the desk. He placed it on the surface of the desk and popped open the clasps. Duo was half expecting the man to pull out a gun, but instead he produced a far more innocent object; a magazine. Neil unceremoniously threw it on the desk. "This is the job," He announced. With furrowed brows Duo stepped forward and he reached for the magazine, a recent issue of Forbes. On the cover was the picture of a handsome man in a dark blue, tailored suit, positioned in a no-nonsense stance of feet at shoulder's width and arms crossed in front of his chest in front of a glossy, golden background. Superimposed on him in bold lettering was the text: "Next Generation Billionaires", the small caption below explained the title: "Billionaires are not just old men or Saudi princes anymore. In this issue: Young Inventors Change The Definition Of Success." Duo deadpanned: "So what? We're going to rob Forbes Magazine?" "Seriously?" "Shut up, J.J." "No," Replied Neil coolly, "We are going to rob him." Duo looked down at 'him', the stern man on the cover of the magazine, whose cold blue eyes made him uncomfortable as they seemed to stare right through him. "And who the fuck is this guy?" His name was on the cover, but that was not what he was asking about. Neil chuckled. "Have you been living under a rock?" "Ha, I wish, that would probably be better than living on Millhouse Street," He jested, referring to his leaky hole-in-the-wall apartment in the run-down area. "It's Heero Yuy, of Y-Enterprises. You know? Y-Enterprises? One of the first big skyscrapers that got built downtown and still the motherfucking biggest of them all?" "Yeah, I seem to remember the cold shadow that monstrous thing cast on the lot of us." Neil snatched the magazine from Duo's weak grip and poked his finger at the stoic man on the cover. "This guy invents a fucking a program when he's still a teenager and by the time he is in his early twenties he has created the fastest growing software and hardware company in the United States on the foundation of that one program, that every other business in the world now can't live without. Present day Y-Enterprises is an expansive conglomerate that has monopolized the electronics market and branched into basically every other field where there is money to be made; shipyards, hotels, a fucking airline! Versions of the same goddamn building we see downtown dominate the skylines of cities around the fucking world." "So what is your genius plan? Break into a corporate building?" The hope Duo had placed on the project was dwindling fast. Neil sighed. "Look out the window, Duo. What do you see?" The tall man shrugged disinterestedly. "Corbeau Park." He raised an eyebrow. "He lives here?" The other nodded excitedly. "Moved here five years ago, around the same time he had his skyscraper built. Care to venture a guess which house is his?" Duo stared out the window. Most elaborate homes were newly built. The exponential growth really didn't start until a few years ago, parallel to the development downtown. The Y-tower was one of the first notable skyscrapers to be built, tempting other national and international business to try their luck in this city. Since he was one of the pioneers, he had to reside in one of the old, original properties. But Duo didn't like playing along with Neil, he knew he would just tell him anyway, without having to go through the ordeal of guessing, the man could barely contain his excitement. Neil moved to the window and made theatrical gestures as he disclosed: "Right smack in the middle, in the original estate that all the other residences are built around. The center of this universe for the rich, if you will." "The Corbeau estate." "Actually, it's the Yuy estate now." "Okay, so; on the cover of Forbes, skyscrapers around the world, lives in a freaking palace... obviously the guy has more money than the collective income of this entire city, but what does that mean for us?" "It means he is going to have to share some of that fortune with us," Remarked Neil shrewdly. "Like I said, this job is the result of years of networking, making friends in all the right places. When mister Yuy bought the estate six years ago and started to renovate it to his specifications, an old friend of mine who works at 'Financial Security' kindly gave me a call to let me know that mister Yuy was having a safe installed." He nodded at Angelica. "And not just any safe," The woman informed, "A KDF." "That's supposed to mean anything to me?" Duo quipped. "Kensington Double Fortified. It is a top of the line, latest model, dual lock, bio-guarded safe. It is practically impossible to get into." "That doesn't sound encouraging." Angelica's lips curved into a smug smile. "Key word being 'practically'. I can crack her." "Angelica is our safe expert. She's the best," Explained Neil. "I am the best, don't look so surprised. Safes are sensitive, fickle things. One wrong move and they lock that shit up. Much like a woman. Only women have the understanding and patience it takes to handle a complicated safe like that one. And I am the best woman for the job." Neil continued his story: "So when my friend informed me of the KDF, I saw a great opportunity. You don't get a KDF just to fireproof some documents or safeguard family heirlooms. This safe means mister Yuy likes having a lot of money within reach. I asked myself: How much money? I realized I had better ask this question to another friend of mine, someone who owed me a favor. She had cleaned up her act and went legit. She works at the local branch of the American Bank. The bank where mister Yuy makes a withdrawal of previously unknown amount every three months, escorted back to his fortress by armed guards. Now, she may have gone legit, but she still had her way with men - if you know what I mean -, she got her manager to confide in her how much money mister Yuy takes home with him every time." He paused for dramatic effect. "Well?" J.J. demanded curiously. "Yuy withdrawals ten million dollars' worth of 'walking-around-money', every time." Was the roguish reply. "Holy shit! Holy shit!" Exclaimed the black haired man, he turned to face his brother who was frozen. He grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Holy shit! Bro! Aren't you happy?" "Ten... million?" Duo stammered. "Like any rich man mister Yuy enjoys a lavish lifestyle, including the regular cash purchases of valuable artworks. He's quite the collector." Neil chuckled at Duo's dumbfounded expression. "If we do this shortly after he has made a withdrawal, we will be getting at least two-and-a-half million out of it per person. Everyone gets an equal share. I'm sure J.J. can make himself useful enough to earn a fair cut." "Hold on, 'at least'?" J.J. thought to ask. "I doubt he spends all of it every time. On top of the ten million there is probably some left-over from previous times." Duo started shaking his head, drawing the attention of the others to him. "This is crazy," He mumbled. "This is way out of our league. That kind of guy, that kind of house, that kind of money... this isn't just a simple smash-and-grab." "It isn't," Neil agreed. "It's going to take time and planning and your people skills." "Can't we just hit them on the road when he's taking the money home?" Interjected J.J. Neil frowned at him. "Did you not hear me use the words 'armed guards'?" "We're going to be hard-pressed to find a use for my little brother," Duo deadpanned, then inquired seriously: "What would be my role in this?" "The thing is, my friend working for 'Financial Security' is just a truck driver. The exact details of the installation are classified, only a few people have the information and these people can't be bribed - I've tried this before on another job. So the problem is, we know a KDF was delivered and installed somewhere in the Yuy estate... we don't know the exact location. They always hide those things in walls. The odds of us finding it without help are slim to none, especially given the time constraint; we have to be in and out in as little time as possible. We need you to find the safe so we can plan the heist beforehand." "And how exactly do you propose I do that?" "By working your magic on... How did you put it? 'Your new best friend'." He held up the magazine. Duo met the intimidating stare of cobalt blue eyes that had been captured by the photographer. Even from that single picture Duo could tell the man wasn't the easy-going type. He chuckled bitterly. "It's not going to work. Probably not even when I had all the time in the world to befriend this guy, but especially not in the next two weeks." "Two weeks?" The other man questioned. "Wasn't that the time-frame for this job?" Duo could tell his little brother was shrinking beside him. "No," Neil drawled. "Yuy's next visit to the bank isn't for another month and we figured even that would be too soon to get everything ready, so we are aiming for late December, early January, depending on the precise date he goes to get the cash." Duo cocked his head to glare at his little brother. "It seems my idiot baby brother has neglected to tell you that we have a strict deadline and it's Labor day." J.J. sheepishly scratched the back of his head and oafishly suggested: "Can't we just rob him in the next two weeks? I'm sure there will be plenty in the safe." "There won't be ten million dollars in it," Neil shot back, his attitude shifted, he had been excited and eager before, but he was quickly getting angry. "And we don't even know where the fucking safe is," He seethed. Duo swallowed, recognizing the kind of trouble they were in. "Look, just calm down-" "Calm down?" The man spat, the viciousness of his voice caused the other three to flinch. "I just told you my entire plan and now you are telling me you can't help me? That puts me in a very difficult position, you see? Because I can't trust you not to tell some other scumbag about my plan and then I am going to have to worry about competition." "Just relax," Duo tried to placate. "I'm an excellent secret-keeper and J.J. doesn't even have the time to spill your secret, he's going to be dead in two weeks." "Hey!" Protested the blockheaded drug-user. "Dead?" Duo nodded. "You see, we didn't impose this deadline on ourselves. He owes someone money. A bad someone. The worst. We were looking to pay off his debt. Trust us, we don't want to get into more trouble than we already are. We won't tell anybody about your plan." Neil narrowed his eyes at J.J. "You owe Tsubarov money?" By stating 'the worst', Duo had clearly said too much. Criminals didn't like Tsubarov knowing about their operations, because the crime lord always demanded a substantial cut of the profits. By letting Neil know they were affiliated with Tsubarov would probably get them into more trouble. Wisely so, most people would do anything to keep Tsubarov out of their business, including shooting two idiots who might tell the entitled lord of this profitable plan. However, the tense moment ended when Neil's face split into a sudden, broad smile. "Okay. I think we can work with that." Confused by the abrupt change for the better in his demeanor and the atmosphere between them, he blurted dumbly: "What?" He could tell the smile was one of genuine relief, but he didn't understand why. Knowing of their connection to Tsubarov should have made him livid and distrusting, instead the opposite appeared to be the case. Then Neil wondered suspiciously: "Are you playing tricks on me, Duo? Are you trying to get me to trust you by presenting yourself as a copy of me?" He shook his head overzealously. "No." "You better not be." Duo looked around himself unsurely. "What just happened?" Clearly Neil's questions indicated that he was involved with Tsubarov as well, somehow, but he couldn't figure out how that positively affected their arrangement. "This job is my audition, or rather: my job interview, if you will," He declared proudly. "For what?" "To rise in the ranks." J.J. mumbled: "I told you it doesn't matter to Tsubarov if someone isn't Russian." "Shut up, J.J.," Hissed his older brother. Neil - whose real name probably wasn't Neil - likely was Russian. Non-Russians are only used as foot soldiers by Tsubarov, they were more expendable because they weren't his people. For someone to be allowed to rise in the ranks of the criminal organization likely meant they were at least from the same motherland as the proud drug lord. "If this is an audition, why all the crap about this being 'the last one'?" "If I do this right, it would be my last work in the field. I'd be set for life, welcomed into the inner-circle. You have any idea what kind of clout masterminding this job is going to get me? And what is it going to add to Tsubarov's reputation? Everyone on the street is going to know that the gang outsmarted this 'genius' billionaire. Then no one will argue Tsubarov runs this city." "He's going to make you general," Duo concluded skeptically. Generals were like the board of trusted advisors to Tsubarov's organization. They never got their hands dirty, the 'company' paid all their expenses; gave them everything they wanted - Hell, rumor was one of them actually lived in Corbeau Park. They were in charge of organizing and directing operations; robberies, executions, money laundering and drug transportation. Tsubarov relied on their sworn loyalty to him, to ensure him of this lasting loyalty Duo had heard on the streets that, surprisingly, the generals were allowed the keep the profits they made during the initiation, in addition to being kept men for the rest of their lives. Tsubarov was a smart guy, he knew reigning with fear alone didn't work, not that high up the food-chain. He couldn't risk them rallying men behind them and rebelling, after all. He knew he attracted more bees with honey than with vinegar. "Forbes magazine might revere the new generation," Said Neil, "But in this world - the real world - seniority matters. I know every scumbag worth knowing in this city, I have informants in all walks of life. When I got rolled on possession and did seven, Tsubarov realized how valuable my connections were. You were right, when I got out, I did try to go legit, but then Tsubarov made me an offer I couldn't refuse." Duo could hardly believe anybody used that phrase outside of the Godfather franchise. "You are pivotal to the success of this mission. I haven't met anyone before you who has managed to impress me, let alone someone with a clean record, which is important because in order to get close to Yuy, you have to come up clean when they screen you and that can't be faked, his security detail is very thorough," Continued the would-be-general. "We will go talk to Tsubarov. If you make him a good offer, he'll give you the necessary extension on your deadline." He handed him the magazine. "You should probably start reading up on our target." Duo held the magazine pressed against his chest because he realized his hand had been trembling and holding the magazine loosely betrayed that. He let out a deep, shaky breath. "I'll call you. We'll arrange a time to go see the boss." Neil patted J.J. on the back. "You are a lucky kid." He started towards the door. Angelica lingered, noticing Duo's anxiety. "Are you okay?" She inquired without malicious intent. Duo nodded. "So how did a pretty girl like you get involved?" Asked J.J. with a flirtatious tone. "I'm just the hired help. No audition for me, just a regular day at the office," She replied, her exotic, purring accent made J.J. weak in the knees and soft in the head. "I guess I'll see you boys around." She nodded at the magazine. "Good luck." She turned around and walked out the door, following Neil down the hallway. J.J. waited until he heard the elevator doors open and close before he shouted ecstatically and jumped up and down. He threw himself against his older brother and clamped his arms around him. Duo could feel J.J.'s heart thundering in his chest with excitement, while his own heart was racing for an entirely different reason. The situation still had him worried and fearful. He had been raised to learn to never a trust a good thing. His younger brother released him from his grip and looked up at him with sparkling eyes - for once his eyes were clear, not clouded by extensive drug-use. "You were amazing! 'Let's cut the crap, you need us as much as we need you'. Haha! Awesome!" He took a deep breath. Only once he had calmed down a little did he realize his older brother didn't share in his enthusiasm. "What's the matter, bro? This is like the best thing that has ever happened to us! We're going to pay back Tsubarov, get rich ourselves doing it and impress the newest general." "To do all that," Duo started soberingly, "We first have to convince Tsubarov that we are indeed pivotal to this operation. That's easier said than done. But that's not even the most challenging part. Because then the real work starts." He looked down at the cover of the magazine with worried eyes. "I'm going to have to, somehow, make this entitled snob my best friend. Make him trust me enough to tell me where he hides his money." It was going to be difficult to achieve this, complicated further by his own innate resentment for those kind of people; the rich guys who look down their noses at others, at people far better than Duo. It was going to be trying to put aside his personal issues. He had no idea if he could pull it off. He had never been involved in anything nearly as big as this. "You're always such a downer," Muttered the ignorant younger man. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink." "Hold on a second," Duo said and he walked up to the window. In the distance, in the center of the neighborhood that had been built around it, he could see the vast grounds of the Corbeau estate - correction: Yuy estate - with the mammoth house sitting heavily in the middle of it. A long driveway flanked by centuries-old trees led from the front gate to the front of the immense stone manor that enveloped an inner courtyard and stretched out on either side in the back. The land's perimeter was marked by a brick wall. He knew there would be guards and security systems and camera's and if anything the owner would be even more unapproachable than his house. "Let's go man, I need to piss." "Fine." They left the apartment building together but Duo rejected the offer to go get a drink, unlike his little brother he wasn't in a celebratory mood and he would be even less so if he had to watch J.J. get drunk and stoned right in front of him. Instead he went home and took two aspirin to deal with the headache that had been caused by all that tension and suspense. He sat down on his couch, dumping the magazine on the coffee-table and bent forward to roll up his pants leg. He carefully peeled the duct tape he had used to strap a knife to his lower leg off his skin, wincing as some hairs got pulled out. He wasn't even really sure why he had bothered to bring the knife, in all likelihood Neil had been armed, but that morning he felt like he had to take something with him to not feel like a total fool going to a clandestine meeting without any form of self-protection. Even in the rough neighborhood that had been his home since forever, he had always decided against getting a gun. Guns scared him, he figured probably just as much if he was holding one as looking at the business end of one. He lit a cigarette and leaned back trying to enjoy the effect of the nicotine filling his lungs. He waited for it to calm him. When he was left with little more than a butt he reached out with a groan and pulled last month's issue of Forbes into his lap. He stared begrudgingly at the image of the man. He looked to be about his age - his age -, early thirties, and already he had achieved more than most people could only dream of, let alone attain that level of success. With the cigarette pinched between his lips his hands were free to rifle through the pages in search of the article about the exceptional billionaire. With a disgruntled frown he started to read. The article painted a picture of a brilliant inventor and a cunning but just businessman. There was little modesty evident in the direct quotes from the man as the interviewer had asked him to reiterate his successes. Duo had heard, marveled at and questioned rags-to-riches stories, but Yuy's tale was one of rich-to-riches; he didn't come from humble beginnings, he grew up comfortably in the upper class of society. A privileged start to life. His father was owner and CEO of a respectable state-wide software company. Senior lacked the ingenuity of his son but made up for it with corporate cunning, delegating the development of the software to talented employees. The man managed to make a name for himself and he put it proudly on the side of his office building -dwarfed by the ones his son had erected since - namely Kouta Yuy Software Solutions. He had never heard of it, as he continued reading the dull article he discovered why. Yuy junior, doubly privileged by his lineage - being born into a wealthy family and having the right mix of genes that made him a genius by any standard - took interest in his father's work and developed the program Neil had mentioned earlier. A deceptively simple administrative program. His father, not able to recognize the 'understated genius' of it, told him to stop playing around and focus on his studies - at business school, because he was poised to take over his father's company someday. Fueled by what Duo figured to be years of pent up daddy-issues the mere teenager used the program to start his own software company, selling it to local businesses who were greatly aided by its implementation. As Yuy grew into his early twenties, further developing his company and more revolutionary software, his company, presumptuously called 'Y-enterprises', became the main competition to his father's company. At that point the two of them were no longer on speaking terms, obviously. To make a long story short, Y-enterprises won more and more ground and Kouta Yuy Software Solutions went out of business. In the near decade since the exponential growth of Y-enterprises only continued, gaining more and more momentum, with the company also delving its roots into the hardware market. When the company landed a military contract, developing high-tech software to improve the functioning of drones - significantly increasing accuracy, decreasing collateral damage and civilian victims - there was no stopping the company from going international, overtaking the monopoly on the electronics market all over the world, marking its territory with imposing shrines of glass and steel masked as offices. A complete opposite to his father, Yuy remained focused on developing new software, while delegating the administrative work to his board. But of course as owner and CEO, he had the final say in everything, including the frequent relocation of the headquarters. The latest move being from Manhattan to this godforsaken city, renaming the Manhattan building as one of the many satellite locations. The interviewer didn't ask why and Yuy didn't volunteer the information, but Duo would bet his bottom-dollar it had something to do with the Corbeau estate that he must have had his eye on as the ultimate status symbol. Building a new headquarters in the same city was just a way to keep work close to home; keep the commute short. The article went more in depth regarding his corporate decision-making, but Duo couldn't be bothered to struggle his way through the interviewer kissing this man's ass any more. He threw the magazine back onto the table and twisted his body to lie down on the couch. He stared up at the ceiling, wheels turning in his mind. "Daddy-issues..." He stated in the empty room with a shrug. "I can work with that..." It wouldn't be enough, he would need to do more homework. He had to figure out an angle to approach this guy. For the time being he assumed Tsubarov was going to give him and J.J. this chance, he couldn't consider the alternative, all that would achieve was a nauseous feeling in his gut. He didn't go to the drug lord on his own accord again, he didn't want to press his luck. He would wait for Neil to make the arrangements. They would make a stronger case if they showed up together anyway. He spent the next two days at the library, using the public computers to find out more about his 'new best friend'. Unfortunately the man was as unapproachable as he feared he would be, he only agreed to interviews of a professional nature, he shared nothing personal. The accompanying photo's weren't particularly informative either, his face was impassive in every single one of them, his gaze coldly meeting Duo's as the studied the man. It was almost like Yuy was challenging him, cockily confident that his exterior was impervious to Duo's prying eyes. He scrolled through pages upon pages of local gossip sites - with some snapshots of him at galleries, looking at and purchasing paintings - and online business magazines, heavily resting his chin on his hand. His curiosity was only marginally piqued when a casual search of Heero Yuy's name along with the word "Billionaire" yielded a top search result that read: "The World's Top Billionaires". A page opened with familiar names like Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos as well as unknown European and Arabic names. One name in particular stood out to Duo, as it was one of the names that was preceded by a gold exclamation mark that - according to a quick glance at the notes at the bottom of the page - indicated an Honorable Mention; a notable entry on the list. Between the fifty-, sixty-, seventy- and eighty-year-olds was thirty-two year old - the same age as Duo, goddammit - Heero Yuy. His eyes move to the column 'Estimated Net Worth' and widened. "Holy Mother of fuck!" He shouted in the quiet of the library, people around him immediately shushing him. He was aware the man was a billionaire but to see the zeroes visualized like that and to see the number before those zeroes was staggering. 29 billion dollars and that number was steadily climbing. To put that number into perspective he did a quick calculation in his head and realized that taking ten million dollars from this man, was the equivalent to somebody stealing five dollars' worth of pocket change from Duo, given his savings which amounted to fifteen-thousand dollars. Once his wits returned to him the comparison infuriated him. At that point the job became more than a necessity, but a moral responsibility. It wasn't right for one person to have so much, in a world where the common man has so little and others even less. He knew the ten million dollars would matter little to nothing to the man, but having his house and his personal life violated like the way they planned for this heist - with Duo aiming to earn his trust only to betray him -, would leave him shaken. Maybe then he would realize that the commensurate of five dollars to him, meant a difference to others; a difference worth risking it all for. When he got home that evening he found J.J. sitting in the grungy hallway, by the door to the apartment, fast asleep. He sighed and stared at the younger man, upper body slumped against his raised knees. The smell of alcohol was practically strong enough to make Duo drunk. He lightly jostled the sleeping figure with his foot. J.J. jolted to life. "Did my neighbor let you in again?" "Yeah, he.. she- whatever..." He lost his train of thought. He scrambled up on his feet, supporting himself and balancing himself against the wall. "I should warn her not to do that again." "Come on, brother, I thought things were cool between us again." "Sure," Duo unlocked the door and pushed inside. "Nothing brings people together like plotting a heist. Maybe we'll get lucky and we get to spend the next ten years in prison together, working on our brotherly relationship." "Dude, dial back the sarcasm," The other complained, following him inside and kicking the door shut. "Where have you been man? I thought you might have chickened out." "Chickened out," Duo repeated incredulously under his breath. Asshole. "I've been at the library." J.J. frowned. "You know, the big building with lots of books in it." "Fuck you." He shuffled towards the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. "Don't you have a beer, or something?" Duo pushed the door shut, noting unapologetically that J.J.'s fingers nearly got caught. "I think you've had enough." "Don't look at me like that. Don't judge me. These are really difficult times for me. My boss is threatening to kill me, you know." "Imagine that. What on earth could his problem be?" The older one rolled his eyes and pushed his little brother towards the couch where he fell down on the cushions. He came forward and leaned over his menacingly. "Now might not be the right time to make me start questioning why I love you." He grinned stupidly. "Aww, big brother loves me." He grabbed his collar and half pulled him up, bringing his face closer to him, the stench of booze was insufferable. "Stop doing this." J.J. fought him off weakly. "Stop what?" He whined pathetically. "Pumping yourself full of alcohol and drugs. That shit will kill you, Jared. I'm not about to risk my life to steal money to save your ass, only to have you drink and snort yourself into an early grave. Because if that's where you are headed, we might as well let Tsubarov put you out of your misery." The addict groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. "You're such a buzz-kill." Duo let him drop back down on the couch. He walked away, to the other side of the room, afraid that if he didn't create some distance between them he would not be able to stop himself from physically hurting the other man. Facing the moldy wall he took a number of deep breaths. He heard J.J. move around, the springs of the couch squeaking as he shifted his weight. "You still have this?" The younger man wondered with a bemused tone. "Dude, have you been jacking off to it?" He spun around and saw J.J. had sat up, holding up the issue of Forbes at a ninety-degree angle, flipping through it like it was a porn magazine. Realizing the content was nothing but boring he placed the magazine in his lap and stared at the cover. "The dude is kind of hot." "I'm not interested." J.J. snorted. "Yeah, cuz we all know hot Asian dudes aren't your type." Duo put his hands on his hips. "Are you here for a reason other than torturing me?" He looked off to the side, thinking it over, then a light must have switched on upstairs because he suddenly sprang to his feet. "That's right! I came here to tell you that Neil called, apparently he couldn't reach you. Still having those 'technical problems' with your answering machine, huh? Anyway, we have our appointment with Tsubarov tomorrow, at noon." "Great," Commented Duo. He walked to the front door and held it open. "Thanks for telling me." "You want me to leave?" "Yes. Please, go home, go to bed." "Fine." He stumbled past him, into the hallway. "I'll see you tomorrow." "Don't be late." "I won't be." That would be a first, he thought to himself. He closed the door and rested his forehead against it. He was so tired and the job hadn't even started yet. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle this mess, even now that they had found a solution, the problem still felt hopelessly insurmountable. Tsubarov would always be there, looming over then, regardless of whether or not they would be able to pull off this heist. And J.J. would always find his way into trouble, requiring his help. When A.J. had welcomed Duo into the family the young braided man had been happy to be part of a family, not fully aware of the burden of responsibility that came with it. Once you love someone, you carry them forever. Some people are light, fit right in your pocket, or a little knapsack, so to speak. Others weigh down on your shoulders so heavily you are buckling at the knees, it's a challenge to just stay standing, it is impossible to move forward and achieve any goal; everything remains out of reach. With that appropriately depressing perspective on his existence he crashed onto his bed. He was so exhausted that even his troubles could not keep him awake and not even the demons that haunted him in nightmares could rouse him before the break of dawn. At noon the next day he waited outside the gates of the fenced yard surrounding the warehouse. He tried not to pay attention to that same guard pacing back and forth, ignoring the man when he had shouted unrepeatable things at him when he had arrived fifteen minutes earlier. He leaned back against the chain link fence, being gently rocked by the wind. He could hear the snorts of the wild animal, every sound the man made carried across the yard to Duo's sensitive ears. When Neil arrived and joined him the braided American pretended not to be affected, even though the shorter, older man intimidated him. To be eligible for the position of general means to have some skeletons in the closet, quite literally. "Can I bum a smoke?" Duo wordlessly handed him a cigarette and lent his silver lighter. "Can we trust your brother to be on time?" "No. We can't trust him not to make us look like fools either." "Yeah, the kid really doesn't get how the world works, huh?" "No," Replied Duo quietly. How would J.J. know? How would he learn? He never had to suffer the consequences of his mistakes, Duo always stepped in, took care of things; took care of him. Maybe if he had been J.J.'s real older brother he would have felt like he had the right to be strict and to take a step back, but with the way things came to be, he never had the heart. He could only be the brother he knew how to be; the overprotective one. That was the way A.J. had been, that was the legacy he had to honor. "Thank you for giving us this chance." "Don't thank me. This isn't charity. I'm not doing you any favors. Like you said yourself, I need you as you much as you need me." Neil shrugged. "In my experience that is all that is necessary to make a partnership work. But it doesn't hurt that your little dilemma with Tsubarov insures me that you are not going to back out on this." "What about Angelica? What kind of insurance do you have with her?" "She's a pro. As long as she gets paid, I don't have to worry about her." He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with the heel of his boot. "Here comes your baby brother." "What's up, guys?" J.J. greeted cheerily as he approached them. "Right on time." "Five minutes late, actually," His older brother made sure to point out. "Let's go." Neil led the way into the yard towards the entry. They weren't stopped by the guard, they were allowed to enter without the hold-up of a frisk. J.J. had a chipper, up-beat attitude, too stupid to be afraid. Neil was impassive, unimpressed by the blood stains, the bullet holes, the overall putrid smell of death and the squeaking of rats in the walls and in the rusty pipes. Duo was embarrassed at the goose bumps on his skin, although he knew he had every right to be terrified. With only one-and-a-half week left until the deadline of Labor Day, Tsubarov was either going to let them assist Neil on this heist, or shoot J.J. on the spot - and probably subject Duo to some impromptu corporal punishment. The drug lord had already been waiting for his money longer than he was used to, giving them a timeframe, albeit too short, that was much longer than the time he had given previous employees who failed him. Duo recognized with trembling trepidation that he could very well come out of this building missing fingers, ears, teeth and his little brother. They went through the double doors and followed the walkway deep into the warehouse. When they came into view and started down the stairs Tsubarov reacted favorably to Neil's presence, welcoming him with a Russian greeting. He was less excited about Duo and J.J. joining them and seemed to berate Neil for bringing them along, judging by his tone as he spat foreign words. "We have an offer to make you," Duo interrupted bravely, his voice echoing off the walls. The older man sized him up. "You are going to make me an offer?" He chuckled deeply. "Duo, you are in no position to bargain." "Neil needs us for the job he has planned, if you give us the time it takes to pull it off, you'll have your money. If not, you are going to have to settle for the pleasure of killing J.J. Is that really worth one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars?" The physically unimposing man shrugged. "Close enough." J.J. squirmed. "And what about more?" "More what?" "More money. We can get you more money. Name your price." Tsubarov turned and walked over to his throne, sitting down tiredly. "I don't know what kind of job Neil has planned, I like to be surprised, but I doubt you can get me enough money to persuade me to give you- how much more time?" "You'll have your money by January." The man let out a roaring laugh. "Trust me," Said Duo coldly, "You want to give us more time." He narrowed his eyes at him. The game Duo was playing with him piqued his interest. "Do I? Well, you are the mind reader, I guess." Neil stepped in. "I need Duo for what I have planned. His 'mind reading' skill is exactly what the job requires, as is his non-existent criminal record; a potent and rare mix." "Alright, so his participation is of value to you," Tsubarov acknowledged. "But's what's in it for me?" "Five million dollars." They all looked at Duo, one more shocked than the other, as the statement echoed through the room. J.J. grabbed his arm and tugged at him. "What the fuck are you doing?" He whispered harshly, his intention had been to pay Tsubarov the exact amount they owed him and keep the rest for themselves, but like Neil pointed out, the drug addict didn't understand how this world worked. Duo knew he had to overwhelm the drug lord with a strong offer to change his mind. Duo shook his arm free and ignored the pathetic pleas of his foolish, greedy brother. "Five million dollars," He repeated for shock value. "That is fifty percent of the total haul, it's our entire cut. The rest is for your upcoming general and to pay the others and finance everything." Tsubarov straightened in his seat, Duo had his undivided attention. The man was practically salivating with avarice. "We will pay you five million, instead of one hundred and twenty-five thousand. But now I am in a bargaining position," Duo asserted boldly. "My conditions are simple. You will consider all of J.J.'s debt paid and you will terminate his employment." J.J. stammered something in protest but was instantly shushed by Tsubarov, of all people. "You will not bother him or me ever again. You will not contact us. You will not suck him back in," He demanded determinedly. "You'll get five million dollars and we'll be free from you for the rest of our lives. It's up to you. What do you want? Five million... or nothing?" Tsubarov was silent for a long time, but then he started laughing darkly. "Duo, I'm afraid I've underestimated you. I thought you weren't much smarter than little Jared, but it seems you have real potential. You would have been a valuable addition to my crew, it disappoints me that you never joined my staff," After a long pause he added with a smirk: "And you never will." Duo's heart stilled in anticipation. "I'll just have to live with that and... console myself with all that money you are going to give me. You, my friend, have yourself a deal." Relief washed over him, nearly bringing him to his knees, nearly making him sob, but he stopped himself from showing any emotion, keeping up the aloof, confident façade. "I'll let you do this job, whatever it is, the deadline has been moved to January. Once you pay me, you and J.J. will never hear from me again." "Good." He pivoted on his heels and strongly grabbed the shoulder of his shell-shocked brother, dragging him along towards the stairs. "I do, however, have only one minor concern," Tsubarov voiced, stopping them in their tracks. Duo turned around reluctantly. "Once you have all that money, how can I be sure that you won't take it for yourselves and make a run for it?" "We have an agreement. I'll honor it. I'll make sure J.J. does too." The old man shook his head. "I'm afraid you have proven over the past few years that you let J.J. get away with pretty much anything." He ransacked his mind for a clever way to put him at ease, not wanting Tsubarov to back out of the deal. "Neil will be there, he can keep an eye on us." "Neil?" Tsubarov chuckled and looked at the other man. "That's cute," He remarked. "But that doesn't ease my concern. It's one against two after all. I'll feel more comfortable if another employee of mine will join your little team, to even things out and make sure you will not try to steal what will be my money. He will not require a cut of the bounty, I'll pay him for his trouble. But he is to be included in this entire operation and the heist itself, so he can keep a careful eye on you." "But-" "The negotiations-part of this meeting is long over, Duo. I'm not asking, I'm telling; one of my enforcers will tag along to keep you boys honest." An enforcer, someone who does all the dirty work: someone who is responsible for the blood stains and the bullet holes. Not the kind of man he would eagerly welcome on board. He was clearly not in a position to reject this addition to their team. Tsubarov didn't even wait for his approval. "It was nice doing business with you, Duo Maxwell. Have a nice day." With his heart lying in his gut like a heavy stone he started up the stairs and forcefully pulled J.J. along with him. He had to trust that it would work out. Oddly, one thing he knew about Tsubarov was that he was a man of his word. Still, this enforcer worried him, they were suitable for their jobs because they were vile, violent men; psychopaths with a purpose. They would have to tread carefully. The leash would be so long Tsubarov might not have any control over his dog. He could only hope 'Neil' had the necessary authority to keep this enforcer in check. Outside J.J. yelled hoarsely: "What have you done? We'll be left with nothing!" Duo glared at him over his shoulder as he continued to urge him along, to safer grounds. He bit back: "Once he had gotten wind of how much money is involved in this, he would have wanted it all anyway. If we play this right, we'll be left with our lives! With our freedom! I just saved your sorry ass - hopefully for good - so I'm not making any apologies." With that out of the way the real work began.
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