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"Incendiary"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Yaoi, wrongful imprisonment, Newtypes,
internment camps, eventual rape/noncon Pairings: 3x4, 1x2, 5xS Summary: A group of wealthy college kids are murdered.
There are no witnesses, but there is a suspect. From within the simmering
sludge of irrational fear and prejudice, conspiracy theories are born
and innocent people pay the price. "Incendiary"
The press conference was, as they typically are, chaotic. Journalists, media representatives, camera men, and prominent bloggers were stuffed inside the small room like a can of sardines. A hundred, or so voices all talking at once, and thinking even louder, was a bit overwhelming for Quatre. Even more so as he was rushed the moment he stepped inside, the attention momentarily focused on him, and he blinked at the rapid sequence of camera flashes as they bounced off his retinas. "Mr. Winner, what brings you here tonight?" "Mr. Winner, what do you think about the developments of this story?" "Mr. Winner, do you think Newtypes are a danger to our society?" Trowa stood just behind and to the side of him like a five o'clock shadow and Quatre could feel his discomfort and rising anger as the aggressive journalists continually violated their personal space. He strong-armed a few that got way too close and Quatre stilled him in his quiet subtle way. He laid a soft hand over Trowa's and turned to address the reporters. "I'm here because I want to see an end to this senseless violence. There is no reason to behave this way. I believe the suspect, Newtype, or not, is entitled to a fair trial, and if he is guilty, then I believe the system will take the appropriate measures to see that justice is served. To answer your question, Mr. Smith, no I do not believe Newtypes are a danger to society. No more than any other person. They are people, just like anyone else." Another barrage of questions followed his statement and Quatre strained his ears in an attempt to decipher them. "Mr. Winner, would you consider yourself a Newtype sympathizer?" "I would consider myself a human sympathizer. What happened to those kids was a terrible tragedy and my thoughts and prayers go out to their families -" "Have you spoken to Councilman Zander?" "I spoke to him the other day and offered my condolences, yes." "But, Mr. Winner, don't you think, with what we know Newtypes are capable of, that they are potentially dangerous?" "No more dangerous than anyone else, Madame." "And what do you plan to do?" "I plan to work with Parliament and with law enforcement to make sure that we can come to a peaceful resolution. I think it's important not to paint all Newtypes with the same brush. Just because one committed a crime does not mean they are all criminals. Most of them are good, law-abiding citizens." "Mr. Winner, do you know any Newtypes, and if so, who are they?" Quatre shot the reporter a derisive look. "Now, you know very well, sir, that even if I did, I am not at liberty to disclose their identities." "Are you a Newtype?" Quatre smiled. "I am simply a concerned citizen who doesn't want to see anyone hurt. I want to see an end to the violence and I'm here to do what I can to make that happen." "Mr. Winner -" "No more questions," Trowa interjected, elbowing a rather assertive man who kept sticking his camera in Quatre's face. That last question made him nervous. A little too close for comfort. "Mr. Barton, is it?" Trowa stared at the reporter who had spoken to him, a little uneasy as the cameras were now focused on him. This was one of the perks of Quatre no longer being in the spotlight day in and day out. He'd hated when the media singled him out, but as the significant other of the Mr. Quatre Winner, he'd often been a top story in the papers. He swallowed down his discomfort. "Uh...yeah." "Are you a Newtype sympathizer?" Yes. "I am simply a proponent of peace. Like Quatre, I just want to see this resolved without anyone else getting hurt." "Is Mr. Winner protecting someone? Maybe a Newtype friend, or family member?" The reporter's eyes took on a malicious gleam. "Or, a spouse perhaps?" But Trowa wasn't taking the bait. "No, he's not. I can assure you I am not a Newtype and as far as Quatre protecting someone else, that would be his business and no one else's -" "So, he is protecting someone?" "I didn't say that," Trowa said, calmly, though his patience was waning. He knew the game, though he'd never been able to play it as well as Quatre. "If he was protecting someone, which he is not, it wouldn't be anyone else's business but his own." "Would he tell you if he was?" Trowa bit his tongue, fighting the urge to grab the camera closest to his face and break it over his knee. The pushiest reporter was a man named Smith. He was a sniveling little weasel who seemed to always be in a perpetual state of sneering. Trowa's fist curled against his side, the desire to punch that rat face into next week becoming overwhelming. Quatre's hand closed over his, taking over, smiling at Smith. "Yes, I would. We have no secrets. Now, if you'll excuse us..." He expertly elbowed his way through the gaggle of journalists, deliberating evading any subsequent questioning, and Trowa followed, completely awe-struck at how well Quatre handled them. They parted like the Red Sea as he walked through the room. Despite his tiny stature, his presence commanded respect. Quatre knew how to work a crowd. He knew how to diffuse a situation without resorting to anger, or violence. It had been bred into him since birth and it was as natural to him as breathing. They took their seats as the group dispersed and within a few minutes, General Une appeared at the podium. The flashes continued, though not as rapid-fire as they had been. "Good evening, everyone. I'd like to take a moment to recap what has been covered so far. On the night of July seventeenth, a group of teenagers were murdered in the district of West London. They were shot to death in an alley behind a popular nightclub. As stated before, one of the victims was the oldest son of Councilman Zander. As of now, we still do not have a motive to this crime, but we do know that it was not a robbery. We do have a suspect in custody and we are working alongside all of the other branches of law enforcement to make sure that this person is brought to justice, if he is guilty." "Where is the suspect now?" "The suspect is in a secure, non-disclosed location, not only for his own safety, but also the safety of the officers who are with him. We will see to it that he has a fair trial, and if he is found guilty, he will receive the appropriate sentencing." "Is he cooperating?" "The suspect is currently not cooperating. We have experts working with him to see if we can get any more information." "What are his Newtype abilities?" "I am not at liberty to disclose that." "Has he been in contact, or was he working with any other Newtypes?" "Not to my knowledge." "General, there's been a rumor of Newtype sleeper cells. Is there any credence to this?" "There is no evidence to indicate any kind of Newtype underground organization, no." "People are scared, General, and angry. What do you plan to do to ensure the safety of the public?" "I can assure you the public is safe. Newtypes are not a danger to anyone. We believe this crime has no correlation to the fact that the suspect was a Newtype. It is, we believe, irrelevant to the case. This person simply committed a terrible crime, and may have just as easily done so were he not a Newtype." "But, you aren't sure of that." It wasn't a question, and Une paused, shooting the reporter a mild glare. "There is enough evidence to indicate that the suspect is dealing with some serious personal issues -" "Related to him being a Newtype?" She sighed. "No, not necessarily. And quite frankly, I'm a little disturbed at the media's and the public's obsession to tie this crime in with the fact that he's a Newtype. People commit crimes everyday. People who are not Newtypes. And Newtypes can have personal problems, or mental issues that do not have any relation to their Newtype abilities. I don't see what is so difficult to understand about this." "But, isn't it true that Newtypes often have more mental issues than those who are not Newtypes?" "There could be a variety of reasons behind that. The most obvious one being that Newtypes face more prejudice and bigotry than those who are not. They are, on the whole, paid less, turned down for jobs more often, refused service. The incidents of violent crimes against Newtypes are much higher than any other violent crime committed against a specific demographic. I'm not sure why you're not focusing on that. I seem to remember very little coverage of the young boy who was beaten to death by his classmates for being a Newtype. Instead, what I did see was a lot of victim-blaming." "General, Councilman Zander appears to have taken it upon himself to launch a campaign against Newtypes. What do you think about that?" "With all due respect to Councilman Zander, I cannot support what he is doing. He's had a terrible loss and my heart goes out to him and his family, and indeed all of the other families as well. I can understand his anger, but inciting violence against innocent people is not the answer." "He has spoken out about setting up camps for Newtypes. A place where they can live without needing to come in contact with the general public. What do you think about that?" Une shot the reporter an incredulous look. "Are you seriously asking me that? What do I think about it? I think that's preposterous. It's barbaric. You are talking about imprisoning innocent civilians and anyone who thinks that's a good idea should be drawn and quartered!" "Careful, General," Quatre whispered under his breath. "He has a lot of supporters and they are growing by the day. Does that disturb you?" "Yes, it actually does. I am not insensitive to Councilman Zander's plight, but I believe he is doing the wrong thing. I will speak out about that now, and I will continue to do so." "Does the rest of Parliament agree with him?" "Parliament has been very outspoken about not inciting violence, or spreading propaganda. They are not in agreement with him on this issue." "What do they plan to do about it?" "They will continue to urge the public to remain calm and will condone any and all illegal activity. Currently, they are working on hate crime legislation designed to protect Newtypes." "Councilman Zander is the head of Parliament. Does anyone have the authority to tell him to step down?" "No, but there are appropriate actions that Parliament can take if they feel he is abusing his power." "Impeachment can take months, even years. Do they have that kind of time?" "They will do whatever is necessary to bring about the end to the violence. The Preventers and police are doing what they can to keep these protests peaceful." "General, there are some well-known and powerful Newtypes who are also speaking out. Have you been in contact with them?" "A few. We are all working together to resolve this issue. I'd appreciate everyone's cooperation and I urge the public to maintain calm. If you feel you must demonstrate, please do so lawfully. We are initiating a curfew of eight o'clock in the evening to seven o'clock in the morning. Anyone seen out between those times will be apprehended. If you are caught breaking the law by vandalizing property, or assaulting police, or civilians, you will be apprehended. I also urge those who are Newtypes to stay away from these areas until tensions ease. I understand the desire to counter-protest, but for their own safety, I want to request that they avoid any areas that are currently dealing with these riots. Thank you all for coming." The crowd erupted with more questions and the frantic flashing of cameras, but Une had already stepped away and exited stage left. Quatre leaned over to Trowa, "I want to speak with her." Trowa nodded, pushing his way through the group of journalists who had suddenly turned on them again. He gripped Quatre close to him as they made their way to the door, shoving a man who grabbed his husband quite hard by the arm. Trowa towered over the man, his voice low and threatening, "Bugger off." The hallway was mercifully empty but for a few people and Quatre caught Une's retreating back as she headed out the exit. "General!" She turned, paused, cursed, and walked back towards him. "What the hell are you doing here, Quatre," she hissed. He was a little taken aback by her ferocity. "I needed to be here." Une shook her head. "No, you really didn't." She opened a nearby door and pulled him into an empty briefing room. Trowa followed and closed the door behind them. He leaned against it and listened to Une berate his husband. Maybe she could talk some sense into him. "Are you crazy, Quatre? Do you know how dangerous it is for Newtypes to be out and about right now?" "I can't just sit at home and wait for things to blow over." Une's brows disappeared beneath her bangs. "Why the hell not?" Quatre looked confused. He glanced at Trowa for a little help, glaring when he realized he wasn't going to get it. He turned back to Une. "I need to help anyway I can." "What you need to do is not draw attention to yourself. The more you speak out about this and insert yourself into this issue, publicly, the more people are going to suspect that you are one of them." "I am "one of them", General. So, let them suspect." "Keep your voice down," Trowa snapped. Une stared at the blond, shaking her head. "You don't get it, do you? Those well-known Newtypes I was talking about? They have been arrested -" "What?!" "The military is becoming more and more involved, thanks to Zander." "Wh - he can't do that!" "He's doing it, Quatre. At this rate, it'll take months for the rest of Parliament to impeach him and he's taking more and more executive action by the day." Trowa cursed. "So let's take him out." Une looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Are you normally this nuts, or is it just the situation?" Trowa raised a brow at her. "I could do it. Zero One and Zero Two will be here tomorrow afternoon and Zero Five is on his way back as we speak -" Une snorted. "You'd have to find Zander first. He's conveniently fallen off the radar. I'm not sure he's even in the country anymore." Quatre turned on Trowa. "There is no such thing as Zero One, Zero Two, Zero Three, or Four, or Five for that matter," he hissed. "Not anymore. We are civilians now, Trowa!" "Exceptional times call for exceptional measures," Trowa said calmly, plan already beginning to formulate in his head. "Are you listening to yourself?! This is not a couple of nobody thugs on L2, Trowa! You're talking about assassinating the head of British Parliament!" Trowa stared at his husband, eyes challenging. Quatre threw up his hands. "I don't believe this!" He pointed at Trowa. "No. No way. You are not jeopardizing your freedom for this -" "The longer we allow this to go on, it will jeopardize your freedom, possibly even your life," Une interjected. Quatre stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. "I cannot believe you are taking this seriously. You're the head of the most prestigious law enforcement agency in the world -" "Who's finding her authority being taken away little by little everyday. Quatre, by speaking out against Zander, I am at risk of losing my job. If things continue to get worse, I could face incarceration -" Quatre didn't know what to say to that. He could only gape as the reality of the situation clicked in his head. Zander was taking over. He was employing every executive action he possibly could to remove people from their positions who didn't agree with him. His opponents were being arrested. He was using his power as the commander of the military to enforce his Draconian authority. He was declaring war on Newtypes. This was spiraling out of control much quicker and much, much worse than he'd thought. "Quatre," Une grasped him by his arms, eyes firm, but resigned. "I'll do what I can, but the best thing you can do right now is go home. And stay there. I will call you if and when I need you, but you cannot risk yourself like this. It is far too dangerous." "Listen to her, baby. Please." Quatre turned to Trowa, his breath catching at the pleading look in his eyes. This wasn't just a concerned husband anymore. This was the head of Preventers advising him to lay low. He didn't want to admit it, but...maybe Trowa had been right about him not seeing the big picture when he was passionate about something. Une raised her eyes to look at Trowa. "Take him home and keep him there. I feel a little better knowing Chang and Po will be back by morning and I'm glad Yuy and Maxwell will be here, too. Quatre, we can hope for the best, but we have to expect the worst." A frown burrowed between his brows. This went against everything he was and he had to fight an internal battle at the thought of leaving it to someone else. At least for a little while. "Keep me posted." Une nodded. "I will. Like I said, I will call you if I need you, but please try to remain out of the spotlight for now. Okay?" He sighed, not liking this one bit. "Okay." "Good. I'll talk to you soon. I'm going to Parliament to try to see if anything can be done to override Zander's actions." "Be careful, General." That familiar dread was back, gnawing through his stomach like a flesh-eating bacteria. "You be careful." "I will," he nodded as Trowa took his elbow, guiding him out the door. Trowa glanced at Une over his shoulder. Her eyes communicated her thoughts and Trowa read them clearly. They were both on the same page. Lay low. If I find out where Zander is, I'll give you the coordinates. Just try not to get caught. Trowa's head dipped once and he left to take his husband home.
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