Disclaimer: No relation to Gundam Wing. No own Gundam Wing. No relation to anything Gundam. No own anything Gundam. No making profit from this. All of the above is very obvious, otherwise why would I be writing this? Disclaimers are a pain to write.

Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 5xS, past 5xM (she's dead)

Summary: Gangs rule the Outlands, and shoot any OZ soldiers that enter their turf. The solution? Use ex-gangers, now OZ prisoners, to infiltrate them. What OZ doesn't know is that these five prisoners have something else in mind…

Fighting Fire with Fire

Chapter Five: Back in Action

The atmosphere in the office was tense. For once all the cubicles in the dull grey room were full; some even had more than the one usual occupant. All were tense, and every few seconds, almost unconsciously, heads turned to look over their cubicle walls or their shoulders at the entrance to the room. The doorway gaped open, and empty.

"They're taking such a long time," someone hissed.

"Commander's going to bite their heads off."

"Nah, they're the higher-ups' pets right now, they can spend as much time as they want primping and as long as they have any stupid excuse I bet they'll get off scot-free," came a bitter retort.

"I heard all of them're fags," another informed the room at large.

"Really? How'd they survive then, on the streets…"

"Maybe that's why they're taking so long."

"Hah, I wouldn't be surprised, street whores that they are –"

"Uh, Jake –"

"– I bet they rent out at fifty, maybe less –"


Too late, the unfortunate Jake heard the panicked warning for what it was. He had an instant to notice the dark presences at his back before he was hauled bodily out of his seat and spun harshly around to meet the coldest, most empty blue eyes he'd ever seen. Some primal part of him, the part that had huddled around tiny fires and stared out into the darkness where hungry eyes watched him back, screamed silently in fear, but some other suicidal part of him found the courage to say, albeit waveringly, "What?"

He was shoved back onto his desk, the edge of the table pressing painfully into his spine, and the blue-eyed Japanese teen leaned in close. "Would you care to repeat that?" he murmured, and his tone was almost gentle.

Jake, painfully aware that the entire office was riveted to the drama playing out before their eyes, chose pride over the screaming little voice in the back of his head. "You – you're all – wh–whores," he managed.

A cold little smile curved the boy's lips. "Wrong answer."

Jake screamed as his finger was bent slowly, agonizingly back. "There's a trick to this," came the conversationally comment. "Too fast, and it'll break; too slow, and it won't hurt as much. I've had – practice."

He couldn't answer; his vision was turning black as the hand against his throat pressed in. He made a little choking sound. Over the roaring in his ears he heard, faintly, someone say, "Let go, Heero. He's mine."

The hands were blessedly gone in the next moment, and he fell gasping for breath onto his knees. His finger hurt like hell, but it was unbroken; his throat felt even worse, but it wasn't permanent damage, from what he could tell. When his vision cleared, it was to reveal beautiful purple eyes in a elfin face before of him. He stared, and wondered if the bastard had killed him and he was in heaven.

"Yes," a soft voice whispered in answer, and his eyes closed as fingers caressed his cheek, down to his neck, onto his chest. Hair brushed against his face, and he blindly reached out to run his hands down the angel's body. Jake's fogged mind registered that the body felt different from the usual female ones, but he was too far gone to care as the hand on him traveled lower, lower, as did his own hands… and then the warm body was abruptly gone.

He opened his eyes.

From the corner of his eyes he could see, could hear his colleagues whispering amongst themselves, giving him shocked looks. What caught his attention, though, and made him go cold, was the purple-eyed figure in front of him.

The purple-eyed, decidedly male figure.

He whimpered a little.

Duo resisted the urge to roll his eyes – he was feeling good right now; he had his weapons, his clothes, and it he was terrorizing someone. He didn't want to ruin the effect. The man was such an idiot, though. He smiled sweetly at – Jake, was it? It was the smile that had heralded many a death, in the dark alleys of the gang-ridden streets of the past. The man looked like he was about to pass out.

"Sorry," he said, almost purring, "But I don't let strangers like you touch me, not for any amount of money. I belong to Heero, and Heero alone. As for the fag comment…"

He turned and smiled at Heero, knowing that the Japanese teen knew what he was trying to do. Heero smirked back at him, and held out a hand – he took it, and was yanked towards Heero's body. He hummed in pleasure as strong arms wrapped around his waist, one hand slipping into his low-slung, body-hugging jeans to caress the skin. In return Duo wrapped his arms around Heero's neck, feeling his shirt ride up. He nuzzled Heero, whose other hand raised a little to rub circles into the skin of his lower back.

"Mine," he heard Heero growl a little, and he raised his face to give him a light kiss. He turned in Heero's arms, letting his own arms rest on Heero's, fingers intertwining. He gave Jake a cold smile. "We like who we are," he told the man. "Do you?" He looked pointedly at the bulge in Jake's pants.

Hearing the level of whispering around them spike sharply, he hid a satisfied smile. This kind of revenge was much more rewarding than mere physical pain. He could sense the satisfied delight of all four of his friends behind him – they were finally back in action, and off to a great start.

They left the man huddled on the floor, and went to find the Captain.

They were an amazing sight, Une had to admit as the five of them swept into her office. Gone were the juvvie clothes, and along with them the bad boy image – now they radiated a dark danger, and a quiet confidence. They weren't just street rats; they were the absolute rulers of the streets. She could see why they'd insisted on getting the clothes just right – it did make a lot of difference.

Heero wore a dark green tank top, and black jeans that hugged his lean legs. He wore black leather boots underneath them. His knee-length coat, trimmed with dark silver and dark blue-black threads, was made of supple leather; it had a lot of buckles and straps that looked complicated, but were easy to remove in a hurry. She couldn't see it, but she knew that there was a slit at the back, starting from the top of his thighs down to the hem, for ease of movement. All of the boys' coats had it.

There was also a design on the back – a pair of intricately patterned angel wings, which rose from between his shoulder blades to fall gracefully down the back in a parody of a heart-shape, with every tiny feather clearly defined in silver thread. The words 'Shinigami's Wing', in very tiny matte blue-black thread that was almost invisible, was stitched in the small space between the origin of the two wings, one word on top of the other. She was willing to bet that those had been recent additions, namely by one Duo Maxwell.

Speaking of Duo, he wore the same flexible figure-hugging jeans as Heero, black as well, only his rode low on his hips in a very inviting manner, and had slits that rose from the hems to just below mid-calf on the outside – for his rather more chunky black boots, Une surmised. He wore a sleeveless red turtleneck with the shoulders sloping inwards towards his neck, revealing deceptively lightly muscled shoulders; he also had fingerless biker gloves on.

His coat had been slung over his shoulders; now he shook it out with a flourish and slid it on. It was longer than Heero's, calf-length instead of knee-length – to hide the longer daggers he used, no doubt – and it was black as well, with a similar buckle-and-strap design. A dark blood red Japanese shi for 'death' was sewn just below his shoulder on the right, on the upper arm.

Buckles to close the coat ran from mid-thigh to mid-chest; even unbuckled the weapons could not be seen. That was an important factor in all their designs, she knew, since she'd asked – to make sure the weapons stayed out of view of the innocents and passer-bys. The entire reason they wore coats was to conceal their weapons from the normal public; coats and other unusual outfits were common enough in the new-age town but weapons still made people wary.

Trowa's outfit wasn't as flashy; in fact, compared to Duo's and Heero's it was rather plain. He wore a black turtleneck and a pair of dark grey, loose slacks that allowed free movement, with soft black boots under them. He'd asked for black leather gloves, and she could see them tucked into a pocket of his coat. His trench coat was a dull black, unlike the leather of Heero's and Duo's, and came down to mid-thigh.

Quatre's colours could be considered lively compared to the previous three. He had on earth-brown boots, and a golden brown, mid-thigh trench coat similar to Trowa's, only with more pockets. Underneath he wore dark grey slacks, and a crisp, white collared shirt.

Wufei was an absolute contrast to the rest. He had on a white trench coat with, Une remembered, a black dragon sewn on the back, an abstract design that nevertheless managed to convey the essence of a dragon's awe without being contrived. There were small dragons intertwined in patterns on the ends of the sleeves and the bottom of his knee-length coat. Beneath that he wore a black tank top tucked into white slacks, over simple black leather boots.

She realized that she had been staring for a few seconds too long when Duo flashed her a grin. "Like what you see, Captain?" he said cheerfully, doing a little spin. "Do look a little longer, I don't mind."

Une cleared her throat and glared at him. "You'll do," she said curtly. "I take it that you're satisfied with your weapons and clothing?"

Duo nodded happily. "Your smiths surprised us; the sheaths fit us perfectly and the weapons fit the sheaths perfectly, and the weapons themselves are perfect. The clothes are perfect, the stitching is perfect…"

The Captain held up a hand. "I get the picture," she said dryly. "I'm glad you approve."

Her sarcasm was entirely ignored. "Oh, by the way, you employ assholes, did you know?" Duo said brightly. "We helped you discipline him, but we can't always be here, you know." He waggled an admonishing finger at her. "We're good, but not that good."

Une didn't know whether to laugh or to yell. She settled for changing the subject altogether. "The smiths, when they made your weapons, were curious as to how you used them," she said abruptly. "I myself admit to some interest, as did Commander Treize. Would you mind showing us how you fight?"

The five of them exchanged looks. "Now?" Duo said, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded.

Again, a silent conversation went on. Then Duo grinned, and turned to Une. "Okay, we'll do it," he announced. "It'll be good to get some practice."

Une smiled in anticipation. The weapons the boys had asked for had been very unusual, and all those who had seen it had had their interests sparked. It would be an interesting fight indeed.

She rose from behind her desk, and went to the door. She opened it.

There were a few high-pitched shrieks, and Une jumped back and stared as a few girls lost their balance and fell onto the floor. They quickly scrambled up again, blushing red. The Captain glared at them, and then at the crowd of women behind them, all looking shamefaced – at the edge of the crowd, a few were edging away, trying to look innocent.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

Duo popped up from behind her. "What's the matter, Captain – oh. Hello there!" he greeted the crowd, giving them a little wave and a cheeky smile. Several of them swooned, and there was more than one lovesick sigh. As the rest of the boys came to the door, there were a few whimpers.

Une groaned.

It must be the chocolate. Chocolate makes you happy, because it releases endorphins in your bloodstream or something. Whatever it is, I don't feel particularly happy right now, but all the fics I'm working on, be it a drama fic or an angst fic – they're all turning humorous! Gah.

But at least I'm working on them. (:

I know this chapter took a long time to come – but I have rediscovered my muse! Moo ha ha ha. Hope you enjoyed? It's just a filler chapter, sorry; the next one will have the plot picking up again. Just letting you know I'm not dead.

Next Chap: It's the next day, and the Heero and Duo wake up, cuddle, and the whole happy five of them go to the Outlands. Come on, say it with me: finally.

Ashen Skies
"We like who we are. Do you?"