Author: Sami-pi
Pairing: established 1x2x1 and 3x4x3
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence? Swearing
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, its characters and its trappings, belong to Bandai, Sotsu, and... I was sure there was someone else in there... sorry! ^^;;; Anyway, this fic is not for profit, just for fun.
Timeline: post EW, Quatre's CEO of WEI, Heero, Duo, Trowa, and Wufei are all Preventers, and they're all around 30ish.
Notes: continued continuity! for what came before, please see: 12:11, and 12:12
also! forgot to add that i mean no disrespect to hijackers, people who've been hijacked, or people with Tourette's Syndrome. ^^;;;
12:13
Oh for the love of all that was holy. There was no way that I could have such luck. First I was taken hostage last week and now I was on a plane that was being hijacked? It was bad enough that I had to fly Economy so soon after the luxury of Quatre's private jet. The world was truly unjust and the gods really must be crazy. How could they do this to me? Was I not a nice person? Had I not been working my ass off for the past fifteen years to save humanity? Why did they keep trying to destroy it? Don't they know it's Christmas? It's supposed to be a time of peace and sharing and goodwill towards your fellow human, that's what the TV commercial said.
And dammit I was trying, but the world was kicking my ass while all the gods sat in the bleachers and laughed.
Five hundred civilians on this flight, three terrorists with five very real guns, and poor, poor me. Did airport security mean nothing anymore? I wasn't allowed on board with my gun, how come they managed it?
I snuck a peek at our villains.
Damn. They certainly looked more competent than the ones who'd kidnapped me last week, what with these guys' ski masks and bullet proof vests. This wasn't going to be as easy as making "a call home to the wife".
Speaking of which, I kind of hoped that no one had thought to report this to the authorities yet. If Heero got wind if it now, I'd never be allowed to leave the house again and Quatre would be a dead man.
Sure, it was selfish of me to think that, but come on, look at my recent run of luck and tell me that I didn't deserve some kind of selfishness.
Besides there were only three of them, I could beat that, right?
And then two more hijackers, armed to their very teeth, and looking very much in charge of this operation, walked past me to have a word with their comrades at the head of the cabin before they passed through the curtain into Business Class.
They must have stowed away in the galley below deck.
This was just like a movie.
It was ridiculous.
"Hey." The soft whisper drew my attention to the boy sitting in the window seat next to me. "Hey, aren't you a Preventer?"
Oh, God. Why would You make him say that out loud? Why? Did You want him to get me killed?
"I recognize you from the recruitment poster."
This was so inappropriate.
"You were a Gundam pilot, weren't you?" The man across the aisle endeavoured to join our little tête-à-tête.
Now really, God, was this absolutely necessary? I would have saved the day without all the hullabaloo. Really. I would have. But at this rate, I couldn't help but think that maybe You were building me up to be a martyr.
Martyrs died, You know.
God or not, Heero would be Very Upset with You.
And You know that you so did not want Heero Yuy mad at you.
"So what's your plan of attack? I'll be your back up!" the kid whispered with a creepily eager glint in his eye.
"Well, it's not like I have Deathscythe here in my carry-on luggage!" I snapped.
"What was that? Who's talking?" yelled one of the hijackers, whirling around to face my direction.
I had to admire him. His movements were highly controlled and very deliberate. There were no flailing arms and wildly waving pistols, and no openings or weaknesses for me to take advantage of as he walked down the aisle scoping out the crowd trying to identify the location of the noise.
The boy next to me looked like he suddenly wanted to cry.
"You want to do something? Listen to me," I whispered quickly, "in my bag, there's a bible. When I say the word 'banana', I want you to take it and smack him with it as hard as you can. Get him in the back of the head where it joins the neck, you got it?"
And though I could tell he was scared, he nodded and set to work immediately, discretely pulling my bag out from under my seat and over towards himself with his foot.
Then I turned to the guy across the aisle: "You take care of the kid, okay?"
He nodded too.
"Who's talking? Who's talking?" The hijacker was getting closer. "I don't think you understand your position. It would do you very well to SHUT UP."
I raised both hands and stood up very, very slowly.
"I'm sorry, I have Tourette's. It's a neurological disorder--"
"I know what Tourette's is, you dumbass."
I gave a little tic for effect and shouted out: "Bitch! Whore!"
The man grinned at me and I could see him relaxing just a tad.
That was a good sign.
Two of his peers ran up, one in our aisle, one across the middle bank of seats.
That was less of a good sign.
"What's going on? Who's that?" one of the new guys demanded.
"Just some retarded fuck."
I twitched again and yelled out more obscenities.
All three laughed at that and inwardly I did a little celebratory hula dance.
"You should take him to the boss. He'd get a real kick out of it!" shouted the guy who was across the way.
No, no, no. Do not take me to the boss before I dispatched with you three losers first.
I flapped my arms and swore some more, managing to insert myself between the two baddies in my aisle.
"I'm sorry," I tried to look meek and apologetic with a touch of fear, "it acts up when I'm under stress."
My little act had the predicted effect and the two men now prodded me mercilessly with their weapons. I flailed and thrashed and shouted out as many obscenities as I knew. I only hoped that the mothers on board this flight covered their children's ears and found it in their hearts to forgive me.
It may have been a little tiring, but it was a good ruse.
When one of the hijackers leaned in just a little too close, I punched him as hard as I could, still screaming some socially unacceptable word or another.
"Agh!" he yelled, clutching his nose as it spurted blood through his black ski mask. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"
He lunged at me, but I was still jerking and twitching and I managed to ward him off long enough for his partner to get a hold of him.
"Hey. Hey!" He shook the bleeder to get his attention. "It was your own damn fault for getting so close. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. Your face is a mess."
I curled in on myself and cowered, half crouching, but mostly sitting on the arm of a seat.
"I'm so sorry, sir. P--Please don't hurt me. I don't mean it! I--I can't control it!"
The bastard only laughed.
Now the third one, the one who'd been patrolling the other aisle, came over to see what had happened. When his buddy told him how I'd clocked the other guy, both of them started laughing so hard they were swaying on their feet. So much for my initial assessment. They weren't that special.
I could so do this.
Well, me and my little friend...
With the grace of God.
"BANANA!"
We caught our two bad guys completely unaware, accustomed as they'd become to my outbursts.
True to his word, the kid reacted promptly, leaping from his seat and beaning the gunman nearest him with the heavy, antique bible I'd bought as a present for the Preventer's chaplain. Father Ingram would understand I was sure.
For my part, I had kicked out as I'd yelled, using the seat arm I was sitting on as leverage, getting the guy nearest me right in the gut.
There was only a slight scuffle before we managed to fell both hijackers without any harm to me...or the kid...or anyone else in economy class. Yay.
The man I'd instructed to look after the kid quickly ran back and jammed the bathroom door shut with some luggage that he'd grabbed along his way.
Most of the other passengers were shocked, but they were quick to listen to me once I flashed my Preventer's badge. I silently thanked God for small miracles. What we needed now was for everyone to stay quiet and maintain the pretense of being held hostage so that the two ringleaders wouldn't suspect.
"What do we do now?" asked the kid.
I could almost see his heart pounding through his sweater. He was going to make a good Preventer, though. It was important to know fear but be able to work through it. That was the key, really. I was definitely going to put in a good word for him if he applied.
Of course, that said, I wasn't going to put him in more danger than necessary now.
"You're going to stay here and keep everyone calm, okay?"
He looked like he wanted to argue, but I shook my head sharply to stop that argument in its tracks.
"It's very important that these people have someone they can look to for leadership and authority. I'm putting you in that position. Do you understand?"
The kid nodded.
I peeled the mask off one of the hijackers and pulled it on over my own head. Then I donned his bulletproof vest and his gun holster.
"I'm going to go get the others. Tell everyone to hang on."
I stood up to go.
"Oh, hey, kid, what's your name?" I suddenly wanted to know.
"Alan, sir. Alan Chen."
"Okay, Mr. Chen. If anyone starts screaming or making a fuss, you remember how to wield that bible, right?"
Alan grinned at me.
The other passengers still seemed pretty confused as to what was going on, and it didn't really look like they were going to cause much trouble, but I couldn't be fussed with it right now. I just had to trust Alan to do his thing because, really, I had bigger Issues on my plate.
Pushing everything that was not related to stopping two terrorists hijacking an airplane out of my mind, I crept up to the divider between Economy and Business class. I put my eye to the tiny gap in the heavy curtain and tried to see where my targets were.
"Hey."
The low whisper nearly gave me a heart attack.
The man who'd been so quick on his feet to trap the bleeding baddie in the washroom was standing not a foot behind me and pulling on the other downed hijacker's gear.
"Sergeant Chevalier from the Sanq Police Department, sir."
I nodded. This was definitely helpful. So God was finally paying attention to me, was he?
Hah. That was unlikely. But it was nice of Him to look out for all the innocents on this plane.
And what choice did I have but to do His will, right?
Here I come to save the day, and all that shit.
At least, He'd given me back up. That was a pretty good indication that He wasn't making me into a martyr, right?
Right.
Chevalier and I actually managed to walk right up to our first target. He was standing at the front of Business Class, weapons ready, but not on particularly high alert, apparently awaiting further orders. He acknowledged us with a bored-looking nod.
When I got close enough, I pistol-whipped him.
Unfortunately, it had no effect.
And we were in trouble.
In the end, it took me, Chevalier, and one big bruiser in an Armani suit to finally subdue the guy. Mostly it had been Mr. Armani-suit thumping him soundly on the head with both fists that did him in. Chevalier and I had come to the mutual agreement not to use the guns unless absolutely necessary. There were just too many civilians on board and a stray bullet was probably not the Christmas present they were looking for. Plus we didn't want to alert the last hijacker who we'd assumed to be upstairs in First Class.
I had put down my gun and was busy tying up our guy when I suddenly felt a funny itchy sensation running down my spine.
"Everybody, get down!" I screamed.
The first shot hit me in the vest and knocked the breath out of me. The second shot got me right above the knee, but by then Chevalier was already in the process of knocking me into a little alcove for cover.
A spray of bullets ripped into the partition wall between the gunman and us.
Was he using an assault rifle? In an airplane? Was he nuts?
God, yes, I'm talking to you again, listen to me. You have got to be giving human beings more common sense. And he better not be thinking he's one of Yours and doing Your Work because he's giving us all a bad name. If he is, You have some serious explaining to do, Mister.
"Hey, buddy!" I yelled. "Stop shooting like that or you'll down this plane!"
All the civilians shrieked.
Chevalier rolled his eyes at me, but I just shrugged and flashed him a goofy grin in response. What else could I have said? It was true. If that fucktard punctured the body of the plane and we depressurized too fast...well...
A small hole we could fix, but with the way this guy was going it was hard to say.
Briefly, I wondered if Mr. Armani-suit was safe.
But then, through all the ruckus, I heard the sounds of someone crying. That soul-shattered, broken-hearted crying that I'd heard too many times since I was fifteen, and I kind of knew that Mr. Armani-suit was not quite safe.
My ribs hurt.
My knee hurt.
And now my heart ached too.
What. The Fuck. Was wrong. With these people?
Chevalier was trying to tell me, via some kind of hand signal, that he was going to go left and I should go right.
Fuck that.
I stood up, a gun in each hand, and charged.
The hijacker had clearly not been expecting that and he actually paused in his shooting. I squeezed off two shots. One hit him in the shoulder and the other...actually missed completely and buried itself in a bulkhead (which was completely lucky that it didn't ricochet back at the other passengers). At that moment I kind of wished I was Heero, clearly the superior marksman, but well at least I had 'crazy' and 'overenthusiastic' on my resume where he didn't.
Despite Chevalier's cries, I launched myself bodily at the guy, hitting him squarely in his injured shoulder and causing him to drop the rifle. Sure, I was likely going to get in trouble later for grandstanding and possibly putting the entire plane at risk, but right at this instant I could only see the immediate goal of killing that fucking bastard.
I hit him, and then I hit him again. I used my fists, my head, my elbows. I sat on him and pummeled him, screaming about poor Mr. and Mrs. Armani-suit and the people with Tourette's who were discriminated against every damn day.
At some point he managed twist free and tried to escape up the stairs to First Class. I gave chase and caught him at the top.
The First Class passengers were all huddled against a back wall and they started screaming in earnest as soon as they saw us tumble into the cabin, full on brawling. I started yelling that I was a Preventer just to make sure they knew which one of us was the good guy. I was still wearing that damned black ski mask, after all. But I needn't have worried about any heroics from this lot. They had all gone around the bend to the land of absolute hysteria.
I wondered what this guy had done to them to create such fear.
One look at a couple of the girls and I thought maybe I knew.
With a new reserve of strength, I picked him up I threw him down the aisle. He crawled back into the galley area and I caught him again.
I kicked, and I hit, and if I wasn't afraid of where he'd been and what kind of germs he might have had, I'd have bit him too.
My anger was like a red haze, clouding my vision, and my sense of reason and propriety.
"Christmas is for caring, and sharing, and goodwill towards your fellow human, fucker!!" I screamed, over and over again as I slammed his head into the metal counters.
It took a while, but when the body in my arms went limp, I finally managed to rein in my rage. I kind of hoped that I hadn't killed him. But then I kind of hoped that I had.
Whatever.
God would take care of my future; the review board, court martial, coffin, the whole kit and caboodle. I was going to have to leave it up to Him. No sense worrying about it now.
Right now I had to take care of this mess.
With what little strength I had left, I slung the unconscious body of the last hijacker over my shoulder and wobbled my way back down to Business Class.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was absolutely astounded to see Mr. Armani-suit sitting up. He was holding what looked like a white pashmina to head and it was turning a little bit red with blood, but otherwise, he was speaking cheerfully to his pretty, doe-eyed wife.
It was just a slight graze against his scalp, they told me.
It was a Christmas miracle, they said.
I started getting a bit of the warm fuzzies.
Chevalier caught me just as I fell, the last of my adrenaline fueled strength fading from my limbs.
I was vaguely aware of a couple guys relieving me of the body I'd carried down from First Class and then going upstairs to try to calm things down. I thought I mumbled something about them bringing one of the ladies up with them to help with the you-know-what issues.
A doctor who'd been sitting in Economy came forward to examine Mr. Armani-suit and to bind the wound on my leg.
One of the hostesses opened a bottle of brandy and gave me a mug of it.
Definitely warm and fuzzy.
Christmas was supposed to be a nice season, see? Everyone else understood that. Stupid fucking terrorists.
Chevalier helped me back to my seat and told me he'd take care of everything else. He told me to just take a bit of a nap and relax. I noticed that Alan was back beside me and he was positively beaming. Good to know that a little hostage/hijacking situation hadn't taken that eager light out of his eyes. He really was going to make a good Preventer and I told him so.
He was grinning fit to split his face after that.
The next thing I knew, Alan was nudging me gently with this elbow: "There's food coming if you're hungry, sir," he said softly.
I wanted to go back to sleep, but my stomach growled loudly and I thought that maybe I was feeling a bit peckish after all.
No wait...
Not peckish; I was fucking starving.
I sat up eagerly.
"Here's your lunch sir. Thank you again for saving us," said the hostess as she handed me a tray.
I lifted the cover eagerly, anticipating some sort of treat for my all my hard work. I thought I remembered seeing roasted rack of lamb and broiled lobster in the First Class galley. Of course I'd been busy beating some guy's head in, but I was pretty sure I could recognize good food in any situation. Besides, lamb and lobster had pretty distinctive aromas and I knew I smelled them. Mm, yummy. But lamb or lobster? Maybe they'd give me both. Well, okay, I'd just had lobster the other day with Quatre, so I was really hoping for the lamb, or maybe that vegetarian option, lasagna, I thought it was--
Chicken Kiev. Chicken fucking Kiev. Fabulous. Just like Alan Chen next to me, just like Sergeant Chevalier beside me, and just like every other fucking person in fucking economy class. Breaded, fried, dried out and reheated Chicken Kiev.
I hated Chicken Kiev normally. I loathed the Chicken Kiev on airplanes.
Well, all I had to say to this outrage was...
She just damn well better give me a second helping.
And two desserts too!
Because then I was going to have to call Heero.
OWARI
obviously 12:13 killed me. wasn't i supposed to be doing *drabbles* for this? ^O^;;;;;
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