"Trowa?"

    He was dreaming, floating between unconsciousness and light. In the dark, there was a city, and a bomb had fallen from the sky, slowly like a drop of water in the late sun, shimmering violently.

    "Please, Trowa?"

    But it struck the city center, and he waited for the blast, for ground zero to grow and grow, a circle of destruction that would eat and eat, but there was nothing.

    "Please..."

    The buildings stayed, the structures were sound, but the people vanished faster and more completely than ashes, disappearing like wisps of smoke were they stood, one by one until they were all gone. The sky turned deep yellow and the light left the world, stolen by a looming shadow.

    "Wake up!"

    Trowa opened his eyes, confused. He couldn't see anything but white, brightness glinting off pale hair. It was in his face.

    "Trowa." It was Quatre. He sounded relieved.

    Trowa realized he was buried in Quatre's neck. A hand was patting his face gently, moving swiftly across his forehead, checking for damage. "Are you all right?"

    He tried to speak, his mouth and throat dry, and waited for the pain he knew must lay dormant beneath the haze of waking. But none came, only a dull ache in his chest. "What...what happened." Trowa managed to sit up on his own, his hands going to the front of the navy blue turtleneck. He was covered in a strange fiber. He made a small face. It clung firmly to his shirt and the skin of his hands like old honey, silky and white.

    "There are bad ones Trowa." Quatre said.

    Trowa grimaced as he stood, stumbling as he got his bearings. Bad ones. Indeed, formidable, he thought. Quatre had been reduced to a childs terms in his shock. Concerned, Trowa spoke gently, reaching out to him.

    "Calm down."

    "No, Trowa, no!" Quatre was almost yelling at him, his voice echoing in the empty street, off the buildings and through the broken windows. Trowa stared at him. Quatre was in rare form, breathing frantically, eyes wide.

    "Listen to me!" The blond pilot said, holding his head in his hands. "I SAW it, and I could hear it but it wasn't talking Trowa! It wasn't saying a word!"

    Trowa frowned. New types again.

    "What did it say?" Trowa looked up at the awesome expanse of webbing. The black haired boy and his companion were gone, vanished with the attack. What had it hoped to ensnare? Two more hostages? Wasn't the entire city enough?

    "They don't want the city Trowa." Quatre was panicked. "This isn't about any bureaucracy!"

    "They?" Trowa asked, unsure.

    "The bad ones!" Two hectic spots of red stood out on Quatre's pale cheeks.

    He looked ready to run or cry, Trowa could not determine which. It was unsettling. His eyes suddenly flickered, Quatre's words ringing in his ears. Bad ones? He experienced a moment of realization. There were two forces at work here, one against the other. Fighting not over the city or the government, what was left?

    "What do they want, Quatre?"

    Quatre's face was solemn, his voice suddenly small and very scared.

    "Everything."

    Trowa lifted an eyebrow.

    He shook his head. Quatre, who seemed to comprehend far more than he, was at the exploding point.

    "We've got to help them!" He cried. "The other newtypes! We've got to!" Quatre tugged his arm, distracted and wild, his panic was disconcerting. Trowa had him by the shoulders, holding him there, almost shouting in an attempt to quiet him when a flash of light brought them both to a stunned silence.

    They had returned.

    More of them. This time, two garbed in blue armor of a dark and light hue accompanied the previous mechs. Trowa's gun was in his hand before he took another breath, placing himself between Quatre and the light-borne warriors.

    "You came back!" Quatre exclaimed from behind Trowa's protective stance. He still trusted that no harm would befall them.

    "Are you dudes alright?" The red one (possibly the leader) approached noisily in his metal bulk, letting his helmet dissolve, his face drawn in genuine concern. Trowa held his ground.

    Quatre didn't answer, his breathing anxious.

    "Ran into Dais, huh?" The unfamiliar one in dark blue armor spoke, a rough accent to his speech. His eyes, the same remarkable blue of his armor, were scanning Trowa, taking in the sticky matter on his clothes. "Met your buddies." It added wryly.

    Trowa's hand tightened on the gun, ignoring the blue-haired mech's question. He took aim.

    "Braid with a mouth and a deaf guy. Both heavily armed?" The armored figure wanted to know.

    Quatre and Trowa looked at one another. The four mechs were regarding them suspiciously.

    Trowa answered coolly, quickly acknowledging the first question. "Who is this Dais?" He clicked the safety of the gun but the mechs seemed unimpressed

    "We haven't much time to explain!" One with a slightly British color to his voice spoke urgently. In his hand, he clutched a lethal looking trident, one that could very easily slice through a car, end a life in seconds. The one in red silenced him with a look, turning to Quatre and himself.

    "Look, there's evil all around here." He explained curtly.

    Far above them, the wind howled and a trickle of dust fell from one of the many concrete and steel skeletons. The strange clouds parted for a brief moment, the impossible apparition of the macabre palace there and then gone, hanging over them like magic.

    Trowa tore his gaze from the sky and back to the group.

    "We're here to take care of them. You two had better find some place to lay low and stay there." He sounded like he meant it.

    "How can we trust you?" Trowa's green eyes narrowed.

    "We can!" Quatre insisted, his voice strained, but calming for the first time. "They want to help, Trowa."

    Trowa did not lower his gun. Visibly exasperated and annoyingly unperturbed by the gun, the one in blue spoke impatiently, sidling up close to the one in red. Trowa's ears pricked, snatching their conversation.

    "It's almost time! What're we mucking around for?"

    Trowa's grip tightened on his firearm. Time. Time for what?

    The one in red hissed back firmly."We'll find him."

    A few more heated whispers passed between them. Finally, the one in blue threw Trowa a purposeful, almost amused look. "They can take care of themselves." He nodded cooly towards the gun aimed at his heart.

    "We gotta go." The one in red looked fretful. "Haft find our friend."

    "You guys find someplace safe, got that?" The one in red addressed them firmly again. All four turned round as one and leapt as one into the twilight gloom of the city, vanishing into the tortured skyline.

    Slowly, Trowa lowered his gun. With a long exhale, Quatre crumbled to his knees.

    "Quatre!" Trowa was instantly beside him, concerned. Quatre's hand was clutched over his heart. He was shaking. What had they done to him?

    "I'm fine." Quatre took a few deep breaths and righted himself, rising slowly to his feet again. Trowa offered him a hand but he pushed it aside, rubbing his own arm fretfully.

    "I heard them, Trowa. Their thoughts. I don't know why."

    Trowa stood calmly, unsure of what to say. Quatre spun around suddenly.

    "They are here to help us, save us from this!" He gestured up to the destruction, the weblike matter shot through the remaining buildings, up towards the maniacal castle they had both seen hidden somewhere in the sky. Trowa opened his mouth but Quatre spoke on, ignorant.

    "But one of them is missing. They cannot continue without him."

    Trowa's head spun. Quatre's unique ability allowed him insight into other's emotions. That much he knew even if he did not completely understand. He also knew it was an extremely invasive talent and, at times, Quatre himself had only limited control over it. He was privy to the sacred, serene visions of other's contentment or the grotesque nightmares of their fear, the effects of which were nearly always drastic. What exactly had these beings done to him? And how had they managed to accomplish this being completely unaware, or so they claimed, of what a newtype even was?

    "I don't know why Trowa, but I know they are on our side." He sounded awed.

    Trowa's mouth went dry. Had Quatre even realized he had just read his mind like he had spoken his fears out loud?

    "They are not one bit like us, though. Of our world and yet, at the same time, not." He explained quietly, sounding unsure of himself. The moment was brief, however. He soon came back to himself, speaking with more confidence. "They share so much, I perceived that right away. They must fight together!"

    "How did you know there were five?" Trowa asked.

    Quatre averted his eyes.

    "I saw him, Trowa. The fifth." Quatre's green-blue gaze met his swiftly. "He is in danger."

    Trowa's response was cut short by the frantic high-pitched blipping of Quatre's comlink. Quatre snatched it from his pocket, frowning at the message.

    "What is it?"

    "It's the Professor." He answered, reading the rapid flash of summons.

    Trowa checked his own dead link. Nothing. He snorted. Likely they would want Quatre at a time like this. Yet he had to wonder what efficacy their technology would have against the other world phenomenon.

    "Let's go!" Quatre was already jogging across the broken asphalt. "It isn't far!"

    Trowa checked his gun briefly. The professors were on the scene. He should have figured. Had they brought the Gundams as well? Whatever the case, Heero and Duo would likely be involved. He could only imagine, as he took off after Quatre, what Duo would have to say about all of this.

    The place was elaborately thrown together. Not bad for a makeshift job in a disaster zone. But then the docs could probably make a fusion bomb out of paper clips and chewing gum. The thrum of electricity vibrated through the area. Bundles of wire and cable had been hastily duct taped around corners and along the ceilings passage. A styrofoam crate had been tipped on its side, spilling circuit boards across the floor. A row of monitors flashed and displayed columns of binary code. Buried in its hectic flashes was the technology that permitted the lab to run, for the lights to work, and for the weapons to remain inert, passive, in wait, in captivity.

    It bothered Duo.

    It wasn't much to get by the lab techs who were much more interested in their lap tops and miles of computer print out results. They barely glanced at his bar coded pass, the sight of its bright orange security warning was good enough.

    This part of the lab was a little more sparse, and only a few doors lined the makeshift passage way. He passed the first door with a shudder. A small monitor showed the occupant within, still seated in the same spot and unmoving after so many hours. It had never weakened enough to restrain, and after violent attacks on anyone who attempted to enter it's cell, (and several unfortunate losses) it had been sealed away and left alone for now.

    No matter. He was interested in a weapon, but not that one.

    The door hissed open, and he had to shove it back to seal it again, slamming down the latch like a walk in freezer door.

    It felt like a freezer in there. It was cold enough to see the faint traces of his breath, and he hugged his arms, glaring up at one of the close circuit cameras. "Little chilly don't ya think?"

    A microphone clicked on and a calm woman's voice cut through the cold sterile room. "0 � C is the temperature optimum for power transfer parameters."

    "It's a mech not a semi conductor!" Duo growled. Power transfer. That was the source of the lab's power, and why the biomechs were so weak. New type technology. Hocus pocus. The technology Duo had depended on, it's logic simple and straight forward was becoming a mystery. The lines between science and the unknown were blurring.

    The table sat in the center of the room surrounded by machinery. A slow bleep recorded its heart beat, and the low white noise of the cerebral monitor sounded like a radio between stations. Sonographic internal data moved lethargically on tiny screens and Duo expected to see something more man made, more structuralized. Not malleable.

    "We meet again." Duo said softly to the weapon that lay motionless on the shiny metal table. Its yellow hair covered one closed eye, its face slack as if in sleep. The pilot looked up with distaste at the nearest camera. "You don't mind if I make this private do you?"

    He covertly clicked the audio off on the wall panel. "They won't notice for a few minutes." Duo explained to the inert form. "They are more interested in watching you."

    The black fitted fibreoptic suit covered its hands as well, and they were both firmly secured under two metal bands thicker than what would be required for any human being. They weren't taking any chances. "Can you hear me?" Duo whispered, feeling a little foolish. "If you can, you better listen up."

    The weapon did not answer or show any sign that it was even alive. If the monitors that stood over it did not show otherwise, Duo would have been hard pressed to believe it.

    "I gave your little marble thing to them." Duo crossed his arms. "They think they will be able to use it."

    The doctors had already developed their equipment, the small orb had dimmed more and more since he had shown it to them. The light leaving it particle by particle. What would happen to it, Duo wondered, if it dimmed out completely?

    The mech stirred weakly.

    Its voice was faint but not feeble. "It won't work." It's eyes did not open and it was clearly in pain. Duo blinked.

    "Huh?"

    "....the consequences..."

    Duo was quite interested in this matter.

    "What consequences?"

    Its eyes struggled open, and barely focused its ice blue gaze on him. But then they fluttered closed again. Duo wondered if there might be some malfunction with it.

    He put a hand on its arm, the body under the wire rigged suit was colder than the air in the room. Duo shook it gently. "Freak? Hey, uh, thing?"

    The door opened and two armed guards looked curtly around the room.

    Duo straightened.

    "We experienced an audio failure, is everything okay in here?"

    "Yup." Duo clicked it back on. "I must have hit it by mistake."

    Not buying a word, they glared at him as he walked between them.

    ~It won't work.~ Confused as he was before he decided to seek the weapon out, Duo made his way back to the central lab. The empty corridors and drafty passages unseen in his concentration as he went.

    Quatre looked pale. His footsteps were hurried as they wove their way in the darkness, past the oddities and frozen eyes staring blankly out at them. Trowa followed him at the agreed distance, aware they could be following his progress. The smaller pilot had calmed considerably, but he cast furtive looks around him as if he were hearing things Trowa could not. He himself had not been summoned and he did not know what to expect of them or what their plans were for Quatre. He would not place cruelty beyond the men who created the Gundams.

    He gave Quatre his last two clips of ammunition.

    "I'm all right, Trowa." He said as Trowa made to follow him. "I'll be back soon."

    The blond pilot reached the dinosaur exhibit where the coordinates should have been. Quatre immediately spotted the gap in the floor, the underground hatch that lead to whatever headquarters the scientists had managed to conjure up. Quatre lifted the hatch with difficulty and lowered himself part  way down the ladder.

    The taller pilot said nothing from his hiding place as Quatre descended into the glaring light below.

    He waited until Quatre was out of sight. Having no intention of staying well out of it, he followed.

    The doctors were anxious, shifting from station to station, poring over printouts and spreadsheets.

    "Duo, where have you been?" Dr. J was with Heero, explaining a long row of data. "We expect Winner at any moment."

    "No luck this time huh Heero?" Duo half smiled at the disappointment to be read on Heero's face if one looked close enough. It seemed odd to him, however, that Heero wasn't going to be testing the new weapon. Heero could take bullets like splinters. What was a little supernatural phenomenon to him?

"Why Quatre?"

    Dr. S looked up from his clipboard. "You may be aware that Mr. Winner carries a gene we have only recently isolated as a mutation of the same one responsible for telekinesis."

    Duo digested this carefully, scratching his head. More medical psychobabble? Or was it? "Quatre's a--"

    "--newtype." Dr. J finished.

    Duo whistled. Newtypes were just beginning to be understood by science. It seemed somehow right that Quatre was one, in the way he could read people, hurt when they did, feel things he didn't even know existed. The idea intrigued him.

    It also scared him.

    "You think Quatre can help you understand the mechs?" He asked. Dr. S nodded.

    "We believe their abilities were developed by an unknown newtype specialist of an unknown faction. You have seen the levels of destruction these beings are capable of. You have also encountered their ability to defy gravity, move inanimate objects, communicate silently etc. These are all capabilities similar to those observed in advanced newtypes."

    Dr. J flipped on a monitor and an image of the blonde weapon, lying motionless on the table, fuzzed into visibility.

    "Basically, what we are trying to discover is if these weapons are natural, like Quatre, or artificial newtypes." He stroked his beard, his voice lowering. "We are receiving more and more data suggesting that they seem to be, indeed, human.

    The subterranean lab was lit as bright as day in some places, dim to black in others. Trowa slipped through the shadows, and lurked back in doorways when he heard footsteps and the soft voices of technicians. Quatre moved through the maze without pause, absently flashing the pass he had been given when anyone bothered to take him any notice.

    For all its secrecy, security seemed lax. Everyone was preoccupied and in an excited rush.

    Trowa watched from behind a discarded and silent computer bank as Quatre was stopped by several lab personnel in their  bio-hazard suits. Trowa's green eyes narrowed, watching them from the shadows. Bio-hazard suits? They were getting close.

    Quatre was entering volatile territory. He watched the guards nod, watched them open the lock security to let Quatre in. Then the doors were closed.

    "Furthermore," Dr. S added. "Since their motives are, as yet, undetermined, we must also attempt to yoke their abilities and make them useful to us."

    Duo balked.

    Heero's eyes flickered severely at him then and Duo, automatically, bit his tongue. The cold, gemlike gaze seemed to recall that these men were scientists ...and they did not care. In order to preserve humanity, they would detach themselves from it.

    Heero was hard proof of this.

    "We are not taking any chances!" Dr. G said, finally. "Would you rather be swallowed up like the rest of the city?" He spat.

    Duo was about to respond unkindly when Master O interrupted.

    "Gentlemen, Winner has arrived."

    Closed doors meant little to him. Stealth was on his side. There was always more than one entrance to any classified area. All he need do was find it. Trusting the silence of his movements as he unscrewed the bolts from the vent duct, he crawled easily through the darkened heat until he heard the muffled hum of voices. Ahead, there were slated stripes of light shining in through an opening and Trowa hurried towards it on his stomach, careful not to draw attention, looking down from above at the blinking network of wires.

    Quatre was seated, not so comfortably, surrounded by the five scientists, Duo and Heero. Trowa's eyes locked pensively on the two pilots. What did they have to do with all of this if no Gundams had been dispatched? Holding his breath, he settled into the three functions he was trained best for. Watch, wait and listen.

    "We are very fortunate you were in the area, Mr. Winner." Dr. S handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee.

    "An unlikely accident." Quatre took the cup. "Why have I been summoned?"

    "To cut straight to the point, we have reached the stage in our research where a suitable test subject is in demand."

    "Test subject?" Quatre frowned.

    An uncomfortable sensation tugged at Trowa's stomach.

    "We have managed to procure, with the help of Duo and Heero of course, one of the weapons who are playing an active role in the city's somewhat drastic transformation."

    "What?!" Quatre's voice rose, the coffee spilling on the floor. The doctor's exchanged glances.

    "We thought you might have that reaction." Dr. J flashed him a knowing forced smile. "You are ahead of the game, Winner. Your newtype skills have improved since our last encounter."

    "That has nothing to do with it!" Quatre was almost shouting. "If you've got one of them, you have to set him free!"

    Quatre nodded uncertainly and the group wandered away out of Trowa's line of sight.

    Trowa frowned. They had one of these five held here. Quatre had been adamant about the importance of five. No further information was required. Backtracking the way he came, he surfaced once more near the lab door's entrance.

    He dropped quietly onto the passage floor in a crouch and listened.

    It was an easy matter to subdue a distracted lab tech and take the uniform and digitally encoded pass giving him computer access. He peeked inside, relieved to find the observation theater empty as a startled techie would be unfortunate to deal with. Rows of monitors lit the dim room. The closed circuit system location was quickly revealed on one of them.

    What had Quatre meant about "everything"? The country, the world, the universe? Trowa walked swiftly down each dim and dark hallway, nodding to those to gave him any notice. It was absurd but something nagged at the back of his mind, saying that it might be close to that, that the span of his understanding fell woefully short of everything he had seen.

    Help Quatre. Only that could he decipher.

    He sat alone in the dark room flipping through the index of the closed circuit system, each cluttered room full of activity. The pass he had taken was short on access.

    Trowa delved deeper into the system and hacked easily past the obstacle.

    Then he found it.

    He paused.

    Quatre had only mentioned one. But there were two of them.

    He brought up the surveillance cameras.

    If demons walked the earth this was one of them. He magnified the image until he captured its face, and it looked up sharply as if it sensed him watching it. Thin eyes narrowed to slits, its bulky green armor was spiked at the shoulders. Its barely contained might was monstrous.

    Bad ones.

    Trowa accessed the other weapon, bisecting his computer screen with them both. It was without its armor, barely alive and so different. It was passing from waking to troubled sleep, its pale hair clinging to it's face despite the temperature Trowa read in the cell. It was young. Lost. And almost spent.

    Their stats flashed by in an ordered neon column the anatomy labeled and explained.

    Human beings, without the slightest trace of augmentation.

    These were not cyborgs. Just like Quatre said.

    Not knowing quite why, Trowa resolved to follow what everything told him was ridiculous. One thought of the look Quatre had in his eyes when he had tried to explain, and one moment to remember everything he had tried so hard to justify as something practical or at best legitimate, and Trowa stood.

    He knew what he had to do.

    Noting the corridor assignment and the quickly hacked security command codes, Trowa left as silently as he had come.

    The monitor switched off. The weapon revealed in all of its subdued glory didn't do much to comfort Quatre.

    Duo watched the blonde pilot's face as they described the procedure to him. It sounded simple enough, jump start the trigger with enough juice and blam, redirect it to the wearer.

    Quatre.

    The young pilot was not pleased. He looked very uneasy.

    "Gentlemen, I do not doubt your intentions but I have...a distinct feeling that if we tamper with this, we will be meddling with  something we can barely comprehend, let alone control."

    He turned.

    "I am sorry. I will not risk my life for this endeavor."

    "Winner." Dr. S said, his smile leaving. "I'm afraid we do require your full cooperation."

    A small metallic click brought the room to total silence.

    Heero stood with his gun raised, safety off and leveled at Quatre's heart.

    Dr J cleared his throat. "We insist."

    The smaller pilot backed away from Heero looking forlornly towards the only exit. "Duo!" He said in despair. Lab assistants were already pulling his jacket from him, and fitting small electrodes to his temples. Quatre was about to rip them away when Heero pressed the firearm into his belly and slowly shook his head.

"He was right Duo!" Quatre called out, his eyes pleading.

    Duo, frowning at the method to the Doctors madness, looked to Quatre unwillingly. "What?" He crossed his arms. They were treating Quatre as nicely as they had treated the captured mech.

    "What he said!" Quatre chest heaved and he winced when the shiny needle met his arm. They were leading him farther and deeper into the lab, where they had prepared the trigger. The small marble. The young pilot's eyes were slipping but he kept them locked on Duo, fighting with what little he had left to not be taken away, trying to thrash out of the grasp of those taking him.

    Duo went cold. Quatre's words ringing through him like a physical blow.

    And then the heavy metal door slid shut sealing the lab techs and Quatre away to whatever waited on the other side.

End Part 5

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