BANG! BANG!

/No way. Not yet. It can't end like this, I won't allow it /

"Put the gun down *now* you motherfucker!" A voice screamed down the dark hallway.

Sounds of footfall echoed down the blackened corridor. Sweat, blood and decadence filled the air with their aroma. A gun was cocked, and then another. More footsteps, more OZ soldiers.

"Can't lay there for much longer!" the hard voice repeated. "We got all of your little friends you know that?" The words stung like hornets. Each syllable as their own little bullet. There was a pause, somebody coughed. Then the leering voice came again; "Well there still is that braided kid. We *would* give him medical aid but unfortunately he's too close to *you* for us to do much about."

/Duo.../

More footsteps, the voice, "What's it going to be kid?"

Trowa's mind raced furiously. He was down to one last clip, and that was half-empty. He stayed motionless, crouched behind an overturned metal table. Sweat dripped down his forehead, falling to the floor. A small stream of blood trickled down, underneath the table and directly to the spot Trowa was crouching. Duo's blood.

/ All of us are captured? No way! Maybe he's bluffing or something. Can't trust these OZ bastards. My head hurts. Quatre…Is Quatre captured too? He *has* to be alright! I have to protect him. He shouldn't have come. I told him that this mission would be dangerous. Now…/

"You friend isn't going to last much longer you know," the OZ soldier called again. "Give up, you're the last one left. Don't you care about your friends?"

Trowa's lips were parched. To hell with the mission he needed to make sure the others would be Ok. He blinked. Then through cracked throat he responded, "First tell me if Quatre is alright."

/ They don't know who Quatre is / He realized.

"I mean, t-the blond kid," Trowa shouted again. "Is…is he alright?"

Silence. Muffled whispers, the trickle of Duo's blood. Then, "We have him. He's hurt quite badly but he's still *alive*. For the time being."

/ The mission! Got to destroy the new mobile doll prototype! / Trowa furiously thought.

/ Quatre! Quatre is more important! I must realize that *he* is the most important thing right now! Fuck the mission, I promised to protect Quatre /

A gun clattered to the floor. Trowa stood up slowly, and raised his arms in the air.