One Night

 

 

"You're late."

 

"Yeah, well, it's not every day that a person gets sold as a slave by his friends."

 

Hiiro actually looked up at his partner, surprised by the tone.  Duo merely stood in the doorway, looking dead the world, arms crossed over his chest.  There was no life in his eyes, no radiant energy, not even the ever-present smile was on his face.  Judging by the reactions of the other pilots, they felt as disturbed by the sudden change as the Wing Zero pilot did himself.

 

"Duo, you don't have to do this," Quatre said, breaking the silence that seemed to fall over them.  "I'd be more than happy to --"

 

"No."  The word was quiet, but forceful.  "No one should have to go through this.  No offense, Q-chan, but you're too nice for this."  He matched gazes with the Arabian youth; Quatre involuntarily shuddered and backed up against Trowa.  "You wouldn't last the first five minutes.  It would destroy you, and you're too important to lose."  His violet eyes flickered toward the tall pilot, making a silent point before lowering them back to the ground.

 

Wufei shuffled his feet and cleared his throat.  "Shall we proceed?"

 

Hiiro's chest constricted painfully for a moment as his gaze lingered on the Deathscythe pilot, then his attention switched back to the layouts in his hands.  Duo was a capable pilot; more than capable, actually.  He'd be fine.  Hadn't the braided baka volunteered for the position?  Why was he so concerned?  As long as the mouthy American did his job, that's all that mattered.

 

"Wufei and I will be in the audience.  Quatre will be the seller.  Trowa is the handler.  The event takes place in an hour.  Do you have your transmitter on?"

 

"Of course.  On and tucked away."

 

"When you leave, Wufei will follow and get the security codes.  That night, we break in, retrieve that data and Duo, then get back out.  Wakarimasu ka?"

 

"Hai," the four voices chorused.  Hiiro passed the ground plans around, then crumpled them up and tossed them into the wastebasket.  He then lit a match and tossed it in too.  No point in leaving evidence behind.

 

"We leave in fifteen minutes."

 

Duo was out the door before Hiiro even had a chance to stand.

 

*~*~*

 

Hiiro thoughtfully chewed on the end of his pen as he watched the auction.  Boys and girls alike were lined up; their best attributes set on display before the gathering of slime known better as the aristocracy.  The slaves came in various heights and ages, nearly all with dead looks in their eyes.  Those who were not dead inside already were close enough for the record.

 

"And now, a real treat for the collectors out there," the announcer spoke, a wide toothy grin splitting his face.  Trowa emerged from the black curtains behind the man, a long rope in hand.  When the rope went taunt, he gave it a hard tug, causing whatever was on the other end onto the lighted stage.

 

It was Duo.  A very angry Duo.

 

He had been stripped of his normal clothing and left with only a small scrap of dirty cloth to hide him from perpetual embarrassment wrapped tightly around his slim hips.  He also wore heavy chains on his arms, the clasps going from wrist to elbow.  Typical slave chains wrapped themselves around his ankles with the rope tied between the two cuffs before leading out to Trowa.  The Heavyarms pilot gave another sharp tug, causing Duo to stumble forward a little more before collapsing to his knees.

 

"This slave is American.  He's a wild one, folks.  Just look at those violet eyes and long hair.  Plenty of options here.  Only fifteen years of age.  Excellent body condition, as you can see..."

 

Duo glared out at the crowd with all the hate and anger he could muster.  -Sick bastards.  Go on. Eat it up.  I'm gone make sure you all rot in hell...-

 

Bids started up.  Everyone wanted the dark, violet-eyed youth.  Quatre came out to stand next to Trowa.  Tradition held that since he was the seller, he was the one who had to choose the best bid, the best new master.  Money was only a small matter to them and the bids quickly escalated into the million-dollar range.

 

Quatre finally picked his bid, choosing, of course, the target.  The man grinned broadly as regretful sighs filled the auditorium.  Swiftly, he approached his new prize, gracefully dumping a check for the agreed amount into the blonde teen's hands without every really looking at him.  He eyed Duo hungrily, casually playing with the end of his braid, running his fingers across the soft skin of his shoulder.  He laughed when the boy glared at him.

 

"Don't worry, little one.  Soon you'll beg me to do things to you."  He laughed again when a look of dread crossed Duo's face.  Quatre didn't miss it.  Neither did Trowa.  They watched grimly as their fellow pilot was lead off stage and Wufei slipped out behind them.

 

Just before stepping out, Duo cast a glance back out to the audience.  Most were paying attention to the next slave for sale.  All except one.  A rather dark young spectator with a deadpan face.  His heart leapt up into his throat at the sight of that blank face, then quickly turned away.  He didn't know what he expected to see, so it didn't matter that it wasn't present.  Still, he felt overwhelmingly sad and allowed himself a silent tear as he walked out.

 

Hiiro's chest clenched tight again as he caught the look Duo threw at him before disappearing.  It was the look of a doomed man, of a prisoner who had just been thrown in a cell and heard his jailer toss away the key.  A look that disturbed him more than he cared to admit...

 

-What were you looking for, Duo?- he wondered silently, blocking out the noise around him.  -Why do you act as if you know you're going to die?-

 

*~*~*

 

The hand was too close for comfort.

 

Duo didn't bother hiding the fact that he was uncomfortable with the close proximity of his new master.  A new slave was always uncomfortable until he got into the stream of things, until he knew what to expect or not expect.  With a deep breath, he forced himself to relax.  The mission was high-strung enough without him going and doing something really stupid.

 

He flinched.  The hand had moved again.  Damn, he hated this.  But it was better than one of the others doing it.

 

-Yeah, that's it.  Focus on why you're doing this.  You're doing this so that the others don't have to.  So that you can protect them.  Focus on that and the rest won't matter...-

 

-The hell the rest won't matter...- he thought bitterly, turning his head so that he could look out the window.  He felt very sick as the free world rolled by outside.  Always so close, but so far away.

 

"Don't look so unhappy, little one.  You'll learn to enjoy life in my home."

 

He couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through him as his master's hot breath rolled across his still-bare back.  Neither could he suppress the one that followed when the master laughed.  It seemed that the man enjoyed causing discomfort in other.  THAT made Duo's day...

 

Wufei grumbled under his breath about injustice the entire trip to the house.  Injustice for having to ride on the bottom of a car, injustice for the selling and buying of slaves, injustice in general...

 

"Wufei..." his transponder crackles.  "...did you get... the codes yet?"

 

"No," he responded irritable, his head striking the ground as the car continued to bounce along the road.

 

"Hurry... up."

 

"I can only go as fast as this car does, Yui.  Unless you'd just like me to blow this mission by jumping the car unarmed..."

 

The transponder remained quiet.

 

"I didn't think --"  The car suddenly jolted to a stop.  Wufei stealthily peered out from his spot, trying to read the security codes upside down.  Releasing his grip, he waited until the car slide away before diving for cover in some nearby bushes.

 

"Wufei!  Report!"

 

"'Don't use a cannonball to kill a mosquito'..."  He grinned.  "I'm coming back..."

 

*~*~*

 

"It's a simple enough mission," Duo said after patiently listening to Hiiro's briefing.  "Why all five of us?"

 

Hiiro eyes the American pilot coldly.  "He's from Romafeller.  The information we need is very valuable.  It will most likely be heavily guarded.  Two people will have to hack into the computer, two will have to guard the entrance and exit while one distracts him long enough to let the others complete the mission."

 

"'Distract him'?" Quatre repeated.  "How do we distract him?"

 

"He belongs to an underground guild of slave buyers."  Duo stiffened perceivably, but said nothing.  "There is an auction tomorrow.  One of us will have to --"

 

"I'll do it." Duo interrupted quietly.  Everyone looked at him.  He had his eyes downcast, only the shadow of his normal smile on his face.  Hiiro frowned.

 

"The Scientists suggested Quatre..."

 

"I volunteer.  Let me do this."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because Quatre doesn't have what it takes, Wufei's too caught up in this justice thing, Trowa would be better at hacking into the computers, and you, well, frankly, Hiiro, I don't think you could warm up to an ice cube in the middle of summer."  Duo sighed.  "Look, I volunteered for the job.  That should be more than enough for you."

 

They exchanged icy glares before the Japanese youth turned back to the mission plans in front of him.  "Fine," he said before continuing on with the details.  He couldn't quite explain why the Deathscythe pilot was so gun-ho about taking the job, but he had to admit that is was probably for the best.  Secretly, he agreed that Quatre didn't have it in him and he needed Trowa and Wufei with him.  That only left Duo to do the job.

 

-Then why do I feel so bad about this?-

 

*~*~*

 

Duo bit back another yell of pain.  He wasn't going to give that sadist the please of hearing him scream.  The lash bit deeper this time and tears of pain managed to squeeze themselves from his eyes to run down his cheeks.  The man laughed again; he seemed to be doing that a lot at the American's expense.

 

But instead of continuing on, the man stepped back to admire his handiwork.  The boy was holding up amazingly well.  At this rate, he'd be able to play all night.  He had made sure that the new slave had lost his flimsy covering early on.  It had actually turned into a good excuse to try out his new toy, and he was more than satisfied with the results.  So satisfied, in fact, that he had taken the violet-eyed American twice before even arriving at his estate.  He couldn't figure out why the Arabian kid had given up such a prize for so little money.  Surely he must have known how sweet a treasure the slave was.

 

Oh well.  He hadn't had the pleasure of breaking in a slave for long time...

 

His eyes ran skillfully across the soft ivory flesh of his slave.  Hundreds of small red gashes, a marker of the lash, littered the skin.  Some were bleeding, some were merely impressions.  And there were going to be many more before he was done.  Until the American screamed out, he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. 

 

A glance out the window told him it was merely sunset.  There was still plenty of time to play all the games that he wished.

 

*~*~*

 

The house was too quiet for Hiiro's liking.  He took a moment to flex his cramping fingers before beginning to type again.  Everything was going according to plan, but he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.

 

Then it happened.  A loud thump from somewhere close to them, followed shortly by a long howl of pain.

 

All thoughts rushed to one source; Duo.  The other three pilots turned to Hiiro, who put on a mask of indifference and continued to type.  A second scream arose and the pilots exchanged looks.  Trowa set his jaw, resuming his task of typing as well.  Wufei turned away with a sneer of disgust while Quatre slid over to a window and gazed out into the night, desperately trying to block out the following screams until they all but disappeared from the world.

 

*~*~*

 

Duo grunted, his body as a whole was burning from the torture, his left hand more specifically.  He had finally reached his pain tolerance, and exceeded it in a short time following.  He didn't have much a voice left, either.  That was probably a good thing, otherwise he'd still be spitting off insults.  All he did manage to do was turn his head to glare at his master, who was smiling like a cat who'd finally caught the elusive mouse.

 

"Come, come, little one.  No need to look at me with such hate."  The man held up a small syringe.  "The game has only just begun..."

 

*~*~*

 

"Ninmu kanryou."

 

In a whirl of wires and flashing screens, Hiiro and Trowa packed up and prepared to ship out.  Wufei had moved out earlier to secure their escape while Quatre went to find Duo.  By the time they finished their packing, the Sandrock pilot had returned saying he couldn't find hide nor hair of their missing member.  It was then that the group realized how quiet it had become once again.  And, again, their thoughts centered around Duo.

 

Hiiro dropped whatever he had in his hands and dashed out the door, gun cocked and ready.  He quickly made his way to where he guessed the screaming had originated.  Of course, every door in that section was locked.

 

Throwing caution to the winds, the Japanese youth began to pound on each of the doors, calling the name of his partner over and over again, but receiving no response.  Duo either wasn't answering because he had no way of speaking, or he was dead...

 

Hiiro refused the latter option.

 

-Come on, baka.  Show me where you are...-

 

*~*~*

 

His body lay quietly on the floor, bruised, bleeding, and broken.  His facial expression was lax, there was no life in his unseeing eyes, and deep dark strangulation marks surrounded his throat.  The only sign that he was still alive was the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the rasping sound that accompanied breath and the occasional twitch of his mangled left hand.

 

The master stepped back and took a moment to admire his handiwork.  Though it had taken most of the night and a ton of drugs, he had finally broken the slave.  The marks around his neck now branded the boy as his.  He knew he's partially crushed the windpipe and done serious damage to the vocal cords.  The slave would probably never speak again, or even breathe correctly for that fact.  It was his way of ensuring that the slaves never left him.

 

Duo, on the other hand, floated in a world of darkness.  His mind, unable to cope with the memories, the pain, and the drugs, had turned and run, its tail between its legs, leaving only a battered shell behind. 

 

So it was amazing he heard the call at all.

 

"...Duo..."

 

At first he was inclined to believe it was a trick, something to lure him out so that he could be hurt more.  Then it came again, a little closer this time.

 

"...DUO..."

 

The master had not known his true name.  And the caller carried neither the tone nor the voice of the master.  No.  The one that called, called to him.

 

Hiiro.

 

The spark of life returned to his eyes, along with hope.  Now he could hear the pounding of Hiiro's fist on the doors and the calling of his name clearly.  With a surge of energy, Duo rolled to his feet and stood, surprising the man behind him whom had thought the braided boy broken.

 

Unable to make any sound loud enough to be heard, Duo placed two fingers to his lips and let loose a strong, sharp pitched whistle.  It only stopped when his braid was yanked back viciously.

 

It was exactly the sign Hiiro was looking for.  The door was kicked in with a splintering force just as the whistle choked off.   Inside stood the target, a gun in hand, and Duo, who, even though in obvious pain and serious mortal danger, looked very happy to see the other boy walk into the room.

 

Few times had the Deathscythe pilot seen his partner show any true emotion.  The first time, something that could be likened to joy, when they had destroyed the OZ transport after the five of them had come together for the first time.  The second, sadness or maybe remorse, when they had found out that they had killed the wrong people on that transport.  Now he saw anger written all over Hiiro's face.  Anger, with a twinge of guilt?

 

"Release Duo," Hiiro stated rather too-calmly, "and I won't splatter your brains all over the wall behind you."

 

The man chuckled.  "And why should I listen to you?  What gives you the right to tell me what to do?"

 

"Simple.  The braided baka belongs to me."

 

That wiped the smirk off the target's face.

 

Duo took the moment of surprise to firmly stamp down on one of the man's feet and elbow him sharply in the stomach.  Hiiro took careful aim as Duo darted forward and the target brought his own gun to bear.

 

Only four shots were fired.  The man slumped backwards, the insides of his head promptly displayed on the wall behind him.  He'd caught Hiiro's bullet straight between the eyes.  The dark teen immediately dropped his gun to catch Duo, who stumbled and fell into the other's arms shaking.

 

Hiiro's eyes went wide when he saw what had happened to the other shots.  Three terrible crimson flowers of blood blossomed from his partner's back.  He could feel something wet and sticky soaking through the front of his shirt, plastering it to his skin.  Carefully rolling the American over revealed that only two of the bullets had passed through his body, the third one presumably still lodged somewhere in his shoulder or chest.

 

"Duo..."  The name was barely whispered as Hiiro gently stroked one of his partner's bruised cheeks.  Duo's eyes fluttered open under the touch.  He managed a weak smile for the stoic pilot.

 

"Hi...Hiiro..." he managed to croak out, going into a gut-wrenching coughing fit.

 

"Hanashinai, baka," Hiiro snapped as blood began to well out of the Deathscythe pilot's mouth.  He gently scooped his partner up, wrapping his body in a nearby sheet before taking off into the early dawn.

 

*~*~*

 

OWARI ~TK’01