A Reason for Living Part 19
The Final Payoff
05, 04 and 03 flattened against the chilly, damp wall. After waiting a reasonable time for Heero and Duo to join them in the forest, it was decided that personal intervention was in order.
A progressively nagging feeling that his comrade and the braided civilian could be in trouble had bothered Quatre for some time. As long as Trowa had been with his intuitive lover he had never quite figured out what triggered Quatre's insightful sensory perceptions but he did know that they were not to be ignored.
Wufei held his Walther in a defensive posture and took the point. Trowa and Quatre assumed the rear guard position. Double doors to their right invited a quick peek inside. Three rows of silence machinery took up most of the floor space. Four chairs sat around a wooden table covered with scrapes of stale food, empty beer bottles and several ashtrays filled to overflow with crushed cigarettes and gray ashes.
Of course Trowa couldn't leave the machines to their solitary conditions. "Give me a minute to plant some charges." he begged. His supple fingers kneaded the C4 for its deadly duty. There was no chance that the fuses would detonate before Heero and Duo were located, only an encoded signal from a remote control would set off the blast.
Wufei took a lump of the plastic explosive from his belt pack. "It will go faster if we both do the job."
Quatre reckoned that his counterparts were entitled to enjoy their playtime. He pulled his pistol and headed down the corridor but his independent exploration would be limit to the corner. He paused to listen at the next door, heard nothing and moved on.
Reaching the corner he cautiously peer up then down along the intersecting hall's dim vacancy. Since the "bad guy's" various vehicles were parked on the building's other side it was unlikely that anyone would be wandering around but it always paid to be careful.
Long, wavy outlines floated across the wall. Quatre turned back up the corridor towards the sound of footsteps striking the tile floor. A smile curved up his lips. "It's about time you two caught up." The smile faded and the uneasy feeling returned as an unfamiliar face emerged from the shadows.
*********
Wufei and Trowa secured the last fuses, activated the signal units and started down the hall to rein in their wandering comrade. Midway they came to an abrupt halt. Motioning with a silent gesture the Lone Dragon signaled for Trowa to listen.
The shuffling of shoes bounced over the walls close at first then became fainter as the footsteps moved away. Circumspectly the agents started again, this time with shortened steps. They had no desire to suddenly come up on the wrong person. Rounding the corner their abbreviated pace came to another complete stop.
Hoffman's lackeys were roughly "escorting" Quatre in the opposite direction. One swarthy man with 04's pistol tucked into his belt had a firm grip on Quatre's arm. The other encouraged Quatre's cooperation by means of a steel-plated revolver poised at the base of his skull. A third male, dressed in a sentry's brown uniform, used an assault rifle to further encourage their captive's cooperative behavior.
Tagging along a few feet behind a taller man with auburn hair and a bushy mustache didn't appeared to be armed but Trowa and Wufei had learned that appearances were often deceiving. Besides the assorted weapon's combined caliber more than made up for the last man's apparent armament deficiency.
It took the IPB spies less than a minute to assess the situation. They didn't want to startle the already jittery gunmen but they couldn't allow the enemy quartet to make off with their fellow agent.
Wufei and Trowa stepped out and braced for a fight. Wufei cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard. "Excuse me gentlemen." He used the term "gentlemen" loosely. "I believe you have someone who doesn't belong to you."
Silence stretched out for several strained minutes. Each side studied the other. Trowa's hand firmed up around his Colt but its useful potential was negated by the revolver's fixed aim. Even with his best reflexes in force Trowa knew that he could not outdraw the already targeted weapon.
The man holding Quatre raised a single eyebrow, "Who are these men?" he wondered in German-accented English. He leaned closer to Quatre. His breath reeked of cheap whiskey and cigarettes, "You're too pretty to share."
Quatre gritted his teeth to keep from commenting on the man's questionable lineage and said nothing.
"Yeah," the redhead joined in the taunting, "the pretty one must be a good fuck, he's got two boyfriends chasing after him."
Trowa's mind raced. His thoughts sprinted between three scenarios. Quatre's fate could hinge on a single persuasive word or be lost in one misinterpreted action and sooner or later someone would move the trucks setting off a chain of catastrophic events.
"One wrong move," the revolver's owner warned, "and I'll blow his head off." Quatre was the only trump card the man needed to take the trick.
"And you two will follow." the mustached man announced pulling a sawed-off shotgun from his long overcoat. "I don't think Herr Hoffman will care whether you come along peacefully or we leave your bodies to rot."
The conclusion, for the time being anyway, was clear. Knowing that the gunman's ultimatum was not open to debate, neither agent wanted to give any indication of resistance. In unison Trowa and Wufei dropped their side arms, raised their hands and by their submissive body language signaled their surrender
Trowa's mind and instincts continued to debate at an accelerated pace. One option...making the "wrong move" kept resurfacing in his thoughts. A headlong charge might be the only way to save Quatre. If he could shove him free the diversion would give Wufei the few seconds he needed to drop the shotgun-toting walrus.
Trowa knew it could mean taking a bullet and he knew Quatre would blame himself if the shot proved fatal but at least his lover would be alive to feel whatever he felt. But could 03 risk failure and the deadly consequences if his plan went wrong? Nothing less than total surprise would work. If the gunman had even a hint of his plan...no...Trowa pushed the idea into the back of his mind as a last resort if all else failed.
Wufei's figuring took a different direction. Somehow he needed to convince the thugs, despite their questionable intelligence levels, that letting Quatre go and leaving the lodge was in their best interest.
An understated trace of smoke filtered through an overhead vent telling 05 that something was burning somewhere. He had no way of knowing the smoldering haze's source, nevertheless, his intuition confirmed that it was not normal. But he couldn't concern himself with unknown factors, the immediate situation was real and that was where his attention had to be focused.
Wufei sucked in a centering breath to help shore up his arguments. It was imperative that he chose his words carefully. "I don't know if you are aware but the lodge is on fire." he stated putting every bit of sincerity he could muster in his voice.
The two men flanking Quatre stared blankly and Wufei couldn't tell whether or not they were even considering his statement. Finally the revolver's owner sniffed the air then rolled his eyes up to study the white wisps puffing out at a regular rate. As he redirected his inquiring sight his pistol eased back and the space between Quatre's head and the barrel widened.
"You know," the sniffing man said to no one in particular, "he might be right."
Wufei cuts his eyes at Trowa who nodded ever so slightly, "I suggest that we forget this posturing. You release him and we go our separate ways before the fire get worse." 05 followed up with a logical conclusion, doing his best to put the half-witted man's thinking on the right track.
The "brain trust" with the shotgun shook his head in the affirmative. Wufei was inwardly relieved but continued to display his authoritative facade. He was not so smug to think that he had done anything more than win the hand, winning the game, that hadn't happened yet.
"We'll leave but you won't." Hoffman's bodyguard proclaimed. He pressed the gun into Quatre's head hard enough to make him flinch. "We ain't taking the chance you will follow along and make trouble."
Quatre drew in a troubled breath. His fearful eyes pleaded with Trowa and Wufei to do something.
Trowa stepped forward with his hands held high, "If you let us go I swear we won't follow."
The gunman glanced at his partner then back at Trowa. The man's sluggish brain activity and the way the revolver quivered against Quatre's head made Trowa anxious. With each passing moment he could sense their chances for an unscathed escape growing slimmer.
It was apparent that the man didn't have a keen grasp on decision making. In fact this was probably the first time he'd ever had to think for himself and that made him even more unpredictable.
"No, you have to die."
"I'll make a deal." Trowa declared hoping that it was not too late to alter the outcome. "Let my friends go and I will come along as a hostage. They won't follow if they know I'll be in danger if they do."
Quatre fought the urge to shout out loud, "TROWA! NO!" Instead he carefully shifted his stance. His hand drifted under his coat and down his side. No one took notice, especially the man with the revolver.
Now bluish haze hugged the ceiling in compact curls. Thin spiraling coils gravitated towards the cooler air near the floor. It was only a matter of time before a choking cloud would fill the hall.
Wufei, too, was anxious. There were better than average odds that the worsening conditions would cause Hoffman's hired help to panic and the results would proved extremely unhealthy for everyone.
Trowa, convinced that the confrontation had reached an impasse, tensed his muscles He decided that the "wrong move" was a gamble he had to take. He shifted his weight and prepared for a forward lunge. A discreet nod of Trowa's head and the redirecting of his sight at Quatre's assailant was all the warning he gave Wufei. The extrasensory exchange was understood. Wufei answered with a quick nod of his own.
Meanwhile Quatre brought his hand up at a painstakingly slow rate. Trowa and Wufei were so engrossed in setting up their surprise attack they were unaware of the stealthy movement. Luckily the watchers were also ignorant of 04's protective plans.
Trowa made his final mental commitment. Wufei sensed his counterpart's readiness to spring into action. A deafening BANG fractured the air. The nerve-wrenching noise recoiled through Trowa's body causing a contorted, bone-jarring spasm.
The reflex reaction momentary scattered Trowa's thoughts and physical control. A few seconds passed before he realized that he had not started forward. Another nanosecond sped by before a knot twist in his stomach. A shutter struck as his disjoined senses returned to Quatre. Dread washed over. He fully expected see his lover's body crumpled on the floor, his life gone or swiftly bleeding away.
In the short time span that Trowa's mind and body used to recover their functions, a gut deep wail bounced off the walls. Trowa's terrified sight was drawn down, not to Quatre but to the gunman writhing at his feet.
Fresh crimson saturated the man's inner thigh where Quatre's dirk had been buried all the way to the bone. The knife was stuck just inches from the groin...a little over to the left. The possible castration caused Trowa to cringe.
Clutching his leg the wounded man twisted from side to side, yowling and cursing in broken phrases of German. The revolver, that had fired harmlessly into the air, landed somewhere along the far wall.
Taken aback by his partner's sudden collapse, Hoffman's other watchdog stood dumbfounded. Wufei took full advantage of the man's astonished distraction. A throwing star zipped from the Lone Dragon's hand. A silver streak sliced through the smoky haze. A shrill whine was all that registered before three of the star's six points embedded in the stunned man's throat. An odd gurgle, followed by a hiss of escaping air, was the only sound. Stock transfixed his sight then the man dropped bonelessly to the floor.
The sentry didn't even have time to raise his weapon. In rapid succession one throwing knife penetrated his breastbone and another found its mark in his stomach. Still clutching the rifle, the sentry slipped soundlessly down the wall and slumped over like a loose-jointed rag doll.
The mustached man's reflexes were not as adversely affected by the sudden chaos. As Quatre scrambled to recover his pistol, the shotgun's barrel swung in line with his head. This time Trowa decided that the "hands on" method was his best choice. A solid uppercut not only dislodged the shotgun but a couple of teeth as well. A fine spray of bloody saliva speckled the wall. Trowa finished the job with a roundhouse kick and the last foe collapsed with not so much as a whimper.
Quatre struggled to stand, his shoulders sagged and his knees wobbled. He was pale and a sheen of sweat glistened on his face. In less than a heartbeat Trowa was by his lover's side. He wrapped an arm around Quatre's waist holding him up against his leg's shaky frailty.
"Damn." was all Quatre had the strength to utter as he leaned heavily on Trowa.
Trowa pushed back blond bangs and looked deeply into Quatre's eyes for any sign of shock or injury. "Are you all right?" he asked tensely.
Quatre nodded "yes" against Trowa's shoulder.
"What a mess." Wufei proclaimed as he surveyed the bodies scattered haphazardly over the hall. He retrieved Quatre's pistol and handed it to his comrade.
With the immediate crisis behind them the trio of victorious agents suddenly noticed the accelerated concentration of noxious vapors. Now the fumes not only wafted from the overhead vent and crept along the floor but a dense cloud had begun to seep out around the ceiling panels.
Wufei wiped his watery eyes. "We need to leave....now." he coughed.
Quatre took a moment to scan the various bodies. The man with the dirk in his thigh appeared to be the sole survivor. He had stopped flailing but an occasional faint groan told Agent 04 that he was still breathing.
"We can't leave him." Quatre decided in spite of the mounting evidence that the lodge was indeed on fire.
"Quatre..." Trowa began but was cut off with a wave of his lover's hand. Quatre knelt by the lone loser. "I'm sorry but this is going to hurt." was his only warning before the dirk was extracted with a quick pull. The man flinched; a loud moan flowed over his ashen lips.
Quatre wiped the blade off on the man's pants, no use in staining his own clothes then returned the dirk to its sheath. He applied a pressure bandage and secured it in place with several wraps of gauze. He slipped his arm around the fallen foe's shoulders, the other arm slid under the small of his back.
"I'll carry him." Trowa announced since his taller frame permitted an easier lift. Trowa hauled the man over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, ignored the tacky blood that brushed across his shirt and started off down the hall.
Wufei took the lead, Quatre lagged behind to cover the rear movement and to also admire the view of Trowa's trim ass trapped in his tight trousers. "Mmmmm." Quatre voiced his approval of the seductive sight.
Trowa turned his head just enough to see around his limp bundle, "Do your hormones always have to rule your senses?" he muttered.
*********
The drivers lounged lazily by the trucks waiting for Hoffman and Septum to complete their lucrative transaction. One man leaning against the last truck noticed odd fog creeping under the bay's rear door. Soon a pungent odor caught up with his nose. A confused frown pulled at his eyebrows as he left to investigate.
*********
Three IPB agents, with their rescued adversary, struggled to stay below the thickening smoke while not wasting a moment in their quest to outrun the advancing fire. As their trek lengthened the space separating them from the smoke's worse effects, the fleeing men found themselves between the proverbial "rock and hard place".
They couldn't go back and their hurried pace was rapidly diminishing the distance protecting them from the "time bomb" awaiting activation in the bay. And even if they successfully reached the bay they knew that Septum, Hoffman and an undetermined number of henchmen stood between them and their ultimate freedom.
"How did we get in the middle of this shit?" Trowa wondered aloud before shifting his human burden to relieve the stain on his shoulders.
Wufei glanced back at his comrades. "We came in here looking for Yuy and that tagalong civilian." he stated staring at the soupy mixture pooling around his boots. "When we find the strays those bastards better have a good excuse."
*********
Whiffs of gray seemed to boil from every crack and crevice in the doorframe. The inquisitive driver stood stupefied before the entrance or exit, depending on which side one found himself.
Not once did the lackey's limited intelligence tell him that the smoky haze swirling over his shoes was not logical. Without so much as a millisecond's deliberation or consideration of the outcome, the idiot opened the door.
The vaporous buildup surged forth engulfing the startled man in a strangulating flow. Renewed by an ample supply of fresh air, choking fumes rolled over everything in their path. Franticly waving his arms to ward off the encompassing cloud the panic-stricken driver fled leaving the fire's envoy unchecked.
*********
Wufei and Quatre eased the last few feet up the hall then turned around to watch Trowa prop the gunman against the wall. "He didn't make it." he said softly as he joined his lover and the Lone Dragon.
Quatre gazed back at the lifeless figure slumped at an odd angle and sighed. "At least we tried." Trowa nodded in agreement.
*********
As the bay door flew open, the exiting agents froze in place. Each pistol sprang forward. The open space created a sucking vacuum that partly cleared the hall but it wouldn't take long for the improved oxygen levels to reach the blaze, feed the flames and quickly decrease their safety margin.
Taking advantage of the improved visibility, Wufei cautiously peered into the bay. On the opposite side four trucks patiently sat in a row. Septum and Hoffman stood by the double doors, no doubt completing last minute details. Three restless men milled about apparently not as willing to tolerate the delay.
"Herr...Herr Hoffman!" a fourth man yelled as he ran across the bay.
Septum and "The Fox" pivoted to watch the lone man rush just ahead of a swell of mysterious haze.
"Herr Hoffman!" the runner screamed racing beside the trucks, "Smoke!"
"From where?" Septum demanded. He could see the churning cloud but could not find the source.
"The door...to the...back." the breathless man stammered while flapping his arms like a flightless bird bound to the earth by gravity.
"Dummkopf!" Septum exclaimed shoving the man aside. "We have to get out." he called putting his shoulder to the double door's seam and thrusting both outward at once. "Pull out now!" he ordered, "I'll follow in the car."
Hoffman yelled instructions in both German and English. He shoved the lead truck's driver across to the passenger side and climbed under the steering wheel. He personally wanted to assure the proper handling of his newly acquired treasures. The second, third and fourth drivers manned their vehicles.
Engines roared to life. Gears were hurriedly engaged, literally jammed into position. The first truck rolled forward. The trip wire caught and stretched to its limits.
"Damn!" Wufei shouted just before everything went to hell.
TBC...
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