Warped Mirrors Chapter 25

"Is That a Collar?!"



Time for our heroes to bravely go where some of them have never been before: to a dance club! XD And one of Mel's relatives shows up...

Authors: Mel and Christy (blithely kidnapping Dan, Asuka and Jay’s characters)
Pairings: 1x5x2, 3x4, AxD
Warnings: Yaoi, language, AU. Bitch alert!
Feedback: Hand it over or we’ll send Asuka after you!

Warped Mirrors
Chapter 25
“Is that a collar?!”

“Homework? --Dear gods, those glasses make you look hot.”

Wufei looked up from the maps lying next to his breakfast and glared over the narrow rectangular frames of his reading glasses. Totally unfazed, Mel grinned and joined him at the table, dropping her own stack of closely-typed pages next to her loaded plate.

“Just so you know, that’s the wrong expression to use if you’re trying to look less hot,” she told him in a stage whisper as she picked up her cutlery.

“...I’m familiarising myself with the maps the Regent gave us,” he told her after a significant pause. “I see you have ‘homework’ as well?”

“What, no witty repartee?” She mock-pouted, waving her fork at him with half a grilled mushroom impaled on it. “Oh well. I need to get up to speed on what my double’s been saying to whom before we go clubbing, just in case one of her previous dance partners shows up.”

“Given the sort of personality you pretend to have, wouldn’t it be perfectly in character for you to forget someone?” he asked, interested despite himself.

“Eh, yes and no,” Mel shrugged. “I try to walk a fine line between ‘delinquent’ and ‘nice but completely frivolous’. Making a point of remembering people helps with the ‘nice’ side of things, as well as helping the masquerade.”

“Anubis only knows how you keep track of all the masks you wear,” Christy snorted, strolling in.

“Like you’re any different,” Mel muttered, looking pointedly at the similar stack of pages in Christy’s hand.

“At least I don’t have to worry about which lover is which, where, when, and how!”

“Neither do I! I leave it to the tabloids to keep up with all the shit they make up about me.”

“Why bother to keep up with any of it?” Asuka growled, stalking in wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. “Let your doubles do all the public bullshit; it’s not like any of it’s important.”

“A, yes it is important,” Christy said in bored tones, flopping into her chair and reaching for a pitcher of juice. “B, there are some things they can’t do for us. C, put some clothes on.”

“I did put some clothes on,” he said blankly. (At this point, Dan wandered in with a smug smile on his face, humming happily, and was carefully ignored by everyone.) “And what do you mean, things they can’t do?”

“One item does not count as clothes, plural,” Wufei pointed out.

“It’s better than the alternative!” Mel told him hastily. “Naked Asuka at breakfast may make excellent scenery to start the day in barracks, but it’s a bit much to have him wandering the halls here.”

“This is true,” Christy snorted. “Though it would give the conservatives something to worry about other than you, at least... anyway, the point was, our doubles can’t take over any of our official or ceremonial functions; they just look after our social lives.”

“And my point was, why not?” Asuka asked in a slightly distracted voice, picking up the lids of the hot chafing dishes lined up on the side table and inspecting their contents suspiciously. “Teach them to fake your signatures or whatever.”

“Whatever they signed wouldn’t be legally binding,” Mel pointed out.

“If nobody ever finds out, who cares?”

“Us,” Christy told him. “Not just because of the mundane legal side of things, but the spiritual as well. Much as I swear about it, I am the representative of the Gods to a lot of my subjects. Letting an imposter pose as me during any important ceremonies... eh. It’s not on.”

“They don’t share our mana,” Mel agreed. “My double isn’t even rangatira.”

“You really believe that shit?”

“Oi, we don’t make fun of your religion... whatever it is.”

Asuka looked at both girls for a moment, then shrugged and sat down, plate piled high with small whole fish. “Fair enough. So, what would happen if you did use your doubles for the ceremonial stuff? According to your religions, that is.”

“The usual,” Christy said casually, going back to studying her papers. “The Yor wouldn't flood, bad harvests, plagues of locusts...”

“Earthquakes,” Mel put in, dissecting a sausage. “Fish dying off, drought, floods...”

“...scorpions, zombie jackals, sandstorms...”

“...taniwha blocking harbours, volcanoes--”

“Wait, wait, zombie what?!”

Christy rubbed the back of her neck, grimacing. “Well, Anubis is the god of Death and jackals are his representatives, and if he gets mad... it’s happened a couple of times, all right? It’s not pretty.”

The Glacin pilot eyed them dubiously, then snorted and turned back to his food. “If I say anything more, you’re going to find out what I believe just so you can retaliate, right?”

“Got it in one,” Mel grinned.

“I knew better than to even start,” Wufei muttered into his mug of tea.

“Coward,” Asuka muttered back, just as quietly.

“Prudent,” Wufei corrected him. “They’re dragging us clubbing tonight and I want to be wearing more than twenty percent coverage.”

* * * * *

Heero eyed the outfit Jay was holding out to him with a jaundiced expression. “...Do I have to?”

“Yes and no,” she chirped brightly. “Yes, you have to come clubbing, but no, you don’t have to wear this particular outfit if you don’t want to. I have spares!”

He had his mouth half open to respond when Trowa cut him off. “Before you answer, I suggest you look in the closet. The others are worse.”

“That depends entirely on your definition of ‘worse’, wot.”

“Harder to conceal weapons in, for one thing. Skimpier, for another.”

“Given that Mister Glare-y there regularly wears spandex shorts, and hides a gun in them, I find that hard to believe,” Jay protested. “Besides, as official bodyguards you don’t have to hide your weapons, and -- referring back to the aforementioned spandex shorts -- I really don’t think you have any room to object to our choice of clubbing gear on the grounds of skimpiness!”

“My shorts are not the issue here!”

“No, but they’re an absolutely spiffy counter-argument.”

Heero reluctantly returned his gaze to the proffered outfit. “Trowa, are you sure the others are worse?”


It wasn’t that it was skimpy, really. Judged purely by the criteria of how much skin would be covered when it was worn, the outfit was fairly modest. Judged by how it covered that skin, though... There was paper-thin black leather, and mesh, and shiny silver buckles and studs, and strategic cutouts, and--

“Is that a collar?!”

“Oh, yes.” Jay’s normal happy beam turned into something like Dan’s best lascivious smirk for a second.

“I’m checking the closet.”

Trowa had been right. It was the least-- hm. ‘Offensive’ wasn’t quite the right word, Heero decided, glaring at the rest of the outfits; none of them were exactly offensive, really. The ones that incorporated lace into their designs came close... Ah. That’s the word I want. It’s the least infuriating choice available.

“Bear in mind that she wants us to match, so whatever you end up wearing, I have to wear too,” Trowa put in from behind him.

“Is that a hint?” Heero growled.

“Yes. Please don’t pick anything with lace cuffs; they make it almost impossible to draw a weapon quickly.”

At that, Heero finally managed to drag his gaze away from the clothes, blinking back at the taller pilot over his shoulder. “...Do I want to know how you found that out?”

“Catherine was thinking of redesigning our circus act at one point, and I think she got most of her inspiration out of a Regency romance she was reading. She got as far as making my costume and taking a lot of pictures.” Trowa shrugged. “I’d show you, but there was a freak accident involving half a dozen throwing knives, two litres of medicinal alcohol, and a bonfire. I have no idea how it happened.”

“Of course you don’t.” After a few more seconds eyeing the contents of the closet, Heero sighed. “We’re stuck with the first one, aren’t we?”


“Remind me to bring a couple of towels to loan Mort and the Han Hero,” Jay said, handing him the hanger and passing another to Trowa. “They’ll need them to mop up all the drool.”

* * * * *

“...Do you seriously think we’re going to agree to wear that?”

“No,” Mel said, lounging comfortably on Wufei’s bed, dangling the item in question from one finger. Asuka was glaring daggers at her from his perch on the windowsill, one hand twitching towards a hidden knife.

“Then why--”

“I figured if I showed you this, you’d be more inclined to agree to the outfits I actually want you to wear tonight,” she said calmly. “Also, I want to get your objections to it out of the way now, since I do intend you to wear it to the Alliance anniversary ceremonies, and we’re going to have enough to do on the day without arguing about getting you dressed.”

“Fuck that!” Asuka snarled, jerking upright. “Like I’m going to wear something like that in public!”

“Says the person who walks around naked!”

“That’s different, it’s not a freaking weird costume and it’s in private!”

“You walk out into the common room and flash us all the time!”

“You lot don’t count as public!”

“...I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or an insult,” Mel sighed, eyeing him dubiously. “Anyway. Everyone dresses traditionally for the anniversary shindig, and this--” she brandished the thing in her hand, stiff fibres rustling “--is traditional. You are my guards, you are part of the Aotearoan delegation, therefore you need to dress as part of the Aotearoan delegation.”

Wufei could feel a headache coming on. “There has to be some sort of less... skimpy option.”

“Not for a formal occasion, unless you’re rangatira.” She shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be dressed traditionally too.”

Dead silence.

“You’re-- *cough*” Wufei cleared his throat, feeling his face burn. “You’re rangatira, though, so you get to wear more, right? You said--”

“I get a feather cloak.” Mel’s voice was perfectly calm and casual, but her mouth kept twitching towards a smirk.

“That’s it?!”


Dead silence again.

“So!” Mel said cheerfully, hopping up from the bed and waving at a couple of garment bags lying next to where she’d been sitting. “There’s your outfits for tonight, we’re leaving at seven, don’t be late. See ya!” And she was gone, door swinging shut behind her, leaving the garment bags and... thing... lying there.

“Damn,” Asuka said eventually, paler than usual. “And we have to stare at her the whole time.”

“Like she said on the plane, it’s ‘guard’, not ‘stare at’,” Wufei growled, still blushing. Picking up one of the garment bags, he started to unzip it, pointedly ignoring whatever else might be on his bed. “Let’s see what she intends us to wear tonight--”

The bag rustled as he pulled it away from the hanger.

Yet another silence.

“I’m gonna kill her,” Asuka announced, drawing a knife and stalking towards the door.

“I’ll help-- no, wait!” Wufei grabbed at his shoulder, then yelped and dodged a slash. “Asuka, stop! The servants don’t know we aren’t just bodyguards, you can’t go storming out there and yell at her--”

“Kill, not yell.”

“--or whatever!” Braced in front of the door, Wufei held up his hands and prayed inwardly that Asuka would listen to reason. He’s faster than me and nearly as strong as Heero, damn it! “Look, normally you’d be right, we wouldn’t let her get away with this. Right now, though, we’re playing roles and if we break character we could ruin everything.”

“So we have to put up with wearing that?!”

“I didn’t say we had to put up with it without protest,” Wufei told him, smiling thinly. “We’re going to have to wear it, yes... but I’m sure we can think of something appropriate to do in revenge.”

Asuka scowled, but lowered his knife. “Did you see the collar?”

“Yes. It just means that we’re going to need to be creative.”

* * * * *

“Allah,” Quatre gulped.

Nice,” Duo said appreciatively, one eyebrow shooting up. Dan was similarly impressed.

“Christy, ma cherie, that is not an outfit; that is a Goth teenager’s wet dream.”

“Isn’t it just?” she grinned. “This oughtta get a few extra column inches in the gossip papers.”

“Forget the gossip papers,” he said dryly, reaching out to hook one finger through the silver ring hanging from the outfit’s collar and tugging experimentally. “It’s going to inspire amateur porn.”

Duo leered. “Remind me to start running Internet searches in about a week.”

“A week? You underestimate the power of porn, my friend; I fully expect the first chapters to be online tomorrow.” Dan sighed happily. “Please tell me that Mel intends to dress Asuka in something similarly... tasty.”

“Something exactly this tasty,” Christy told him happily. “You’re all going to match.”

About to object, Quatre suddenly realised exactly what that meant. Trowa. Wearing... oh dear Allah, he’ll be magnificent. He closed his mouth and swallowed, blinking rapidly.

Duo seemed to be having similar thoughts. “Oh, yum,” he murmured, leer softening into a gentler smile. “You realise the others aren’t going to appreciate this the way we do, right?”

“They won’t appreciate us making them wear this, no,” Christy shrugged, tossing the hangar at him and passing two more identical outfits to Dan and Quatre. “On the other hand, they’re definitely going to appreciate you three wearing it, and I need you to do me a favour.”

“On top of the enormous favour we’re already doing you by playing dress-up bodyguards instead of running away, hmm?”

“It’s a favour to you too, Dan. While I’m sure you and Duo can pull off the attitude that goes with the clothes, and Quatre and Trowa can probably fake it,” she pointed out, “Wufei, Heero and Asuka are going to... how should I phrase this...”

“Bristle like junkyard dogs?” Dan suggested brightly. “Be stiffer than frozen corpses? Not, in other words, radiate the proper ‘I am damn sexy and proud of it’ ambience?”

“They’ll get the ‘damn sexy’ part whether they want to or not,” Duo mused. “Problem is, they’ll also be radiating ‘make an issue of it and I’ll feed you your fingers’, which doesn’t really work in most dance clubs.”

“Exactly,” Christy said dryly. “Which is why I want you two -- and Quatre as well, if you want -- to get into your spiffy dance gear, go visit your assorted homicidal-and-dangerous boyfriends, and get their minds off ‘oh dear gods they’re making me wear sexy clothes’ and on ‘oh dear gods the man I lust after is wearing sexy clothes and thinks I look hot’.”

“So, essentially,” Quatre said slowly, recovering his voice at last, “you want us to seduce our significant others into relaxing?”


“Sounds like a plan!” Duo cheered, unbuckling his belt. “Buzz off, Christy, we’ve got sexy to get into.”

* * * * *

When the pilots all reconvened in the palace’s entrance hall before heading out that evening, Duo and Dan-- and, surprisingly, Wufei-- had definite satisfied smirks on their faces. Quatre was smiling sunnily, Trowa was calmly unreadable as usual, and while Heero and Asuka couldn’t be described as relaxed, exactly, they didn’t seem uncomfortable in the previously-hated ‘Goth teenager’s wet dream’ outfits.

“Hooray for hormones,” Mel muttered out of the corner of her mouth, eyeing the assembled masculine beauty from the doorway. “I think Asuka just smiled for a millisecond.”

“Are you sure?” Jay asked, standing on tiptoe to see over her shoulder. “He could have been baring his teeth-- oh, nommy! Christy, I don’t know how much you paid that designer, but they deserve more.”

“I paid them a lot!”

“They still deserve more,” Jay chuckled, following Mel into the room.

“Ooh. Abs,” Christy murmured, getting a better look as the male pilots turned towards them. “You’re right, Jay; I’ll send them another cheque tomorrow.”

“Cheque, hell, put them on permanent retainer,” Mel grinned. Stopping a few feet away from the male pilots, she put two fingers over her lips and pointedly scanned them down to the floor and back up again, making appreciative noises in the back of her throat.

“Pervert,” Asuka muttered, glaring. “What are you, a lecherous mapping radar?”

“Art exists to be appreciated,” she told him loftily, “and believe me, you are all works of art. Don’t you agree, Jay?”

“Mmm-mm!” the Vaterean girl agreed, nodding. “Gentlemen, I probably don’t need to tell you this, but just in case you haven’t worked it out yet; you’re going to need to guard your bodies as well as ours.”

Quatre glanced sideways at Trowa and blushed, eyes lingering on the taller boy’s bared stomach. “True.”

The ragged edges of Christy’s long coat swirled around her boots as she walked around to eye Dan from behind. Dropping her voice so that the uniformed servants standing by the main entryway wouldn’t be able to hear, she murmured “Damn, Martel, given how much time you spend admiring other people’s asses, I’m amazed you aren’t still ogling your own rear in the mirror. Since when has it looked like that?”

“I’ve been exercising,” he murmured back in innocent tones, glancing sideways towards Asuka. Raising his voice over Mel’s sudden choking fit, he went on, “Are we ready to go, my Pharaoh?”

“I think so,” she nodded, raising one eyebrow at Mel and Jay questioningly. “Ladies?”

Jay shot a quick look down at herself, patting at her ruffled collar. She was wearing black velvet, sleek pants and an almost Edwardian frock coat, with white lace at her throat and spilling over her hands. “I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “Should I have gone with the blue?”

“Not for the Fire and Brimstone club,” Christy said decisively, reaching across to pat the jewelled comb holding Jay’s hair in place. “You look great.”

“Mmh. Well then, yes.”

Mel shrugged. “I’d say I was good to go, but that would require me to be good,” she drawled, all the way back in her public persona. Her top was black and silky, revealing her cleavage, and had detached sleeves that covered her forearms and hands while leaving her tattooed upper arms bare. Her pants were a miracle of engineering that probably required glue to stay up, baring a wide strip of tanned skin from her hips down to her knees.

“Then we’re bad to go, I guess,” Christy smirked. She was wearing yet more black, knee-high leather boots and tight leather pants under a long coat that didn’t quite close over her white blouse, held together with criss-crossed black straps, echoing the white straps binding her wrists. The only spot of colour in the ensemble was the red lining of her coat, briefly visible as she turned -- the only spot of colour in the entire group, Duo realised, looking around.

Damn, we’re Goth all right, he thought, suppressing a snicker as he fell into place beside her. Trowa was a couple of steps ahead as they moved towards the door, but it opened before they were halfway there.

A middle-aged Polynesian woman stalked in ahead of her own entourage, coming to an abrupt halt as she saw them. “Ah. Lady Tutankanep,” she said, drawing herself up and nodding to Christy. “A pleasure to see you again. I-- oh. You.”

“Me,” Mel said sweetly, stiffening in place for a moment before relaxing again, lashes dropping to shade her eyes. Her posture shifted subtly, hand on jutting hip, and she inhaled, emphasising her cleavage. “Hello, Aunt Ngaire. Long time no see.”

“Not long enough,” the older woman snapped. “You’re still up to no good, I gather.” Her eyes flicked down for a moment, glancing at Mel’s arm tattoos, and her scowl deepened; the blue lines on her own chin, similar to her niece’s, wrinkled as she pursed her mouth. “Have you no shame?”

“None whatsoever,” Mel agreed, false smile widening. “Do you know, Aunt Ngaire, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything I wanted to feel ashamed of?”

“Infamous,” Ngaire hissed. “Foul Pakeha brat! Dragging the Tangaroa name into disrepute--”

Wufei shifted his weight, ready to step in front of Mel or pull her out of the way if there were any hostile moves from the older woman’s entourage -- unlikely, but the sheer venom in her voice was unsettling, and some of her larger and bulkier attendants were echoing her scowl -- and the movement drew her attention. She glanced at him, then back at Mel, then snapped back to him, eyes round in one of the most classic double-takes he’d ever seen. She’d been working herself up into a tirade, voice rising with every word, and she just stopped, staring at him open-mouthed.

One by one, Ngaire’s followers followed her gaze. Some looked puzzled, clearly not understanding what was wrong; others were obviously shocked, faces going pale. One or two raised a hand as if warding him off.

...Now what? His chin lifted slightly, expression determinedly blank.

“Is something wrong, Aunt?” Mel inquired in silky tones.

Ngaire’s mouth snapped shut as she looked back and forth between Mel and Wufei, startled expression fading into thought... then a cold, cruel smile.

“I see you’ve found yourself a replacement,” she purred, voice heavy with unpleasant implications. “How nice for you. Really! --Do his sisters know?” she lashed out suddenly, baring teeth. “His mother? Have you walked your little pet past them?”

Mel blinked, slowly. “It hadn’t occurred to me to do so.”

“Why ever not? Surely they’d be delighted--”

Mel’s smile was beginning to show teeth now. “Because I may be a bitch, but I’m not a complete bitch. Unlike some.”

Ngaire drew herself up, inhaling. “How dare you!”

“How dare you?” Christy snarled.

There was utter silence as Ngaire choked, colour draining out of her face as she realised that she’d completely forgotten Christy’s presence in her eagerness to snipe at her niece.

“How dare you?” Christy repeated, voice icily cold, Persephone to the bone. “You are in My country, in My presence, speaking to My friend, in My home. I am Pharaoh! I rule here!”

Not Persephone, Wufei realised. Tutankanep. And what Ngaire was implying-- He swallowed as his memory finally caught up to the conversation. Oh. That was foul!

Christy -- Tutankanep -- lifted a hand, cutting Ngaire off before she could start any sort of apology. “I suppose you intended to stay here during the Alliance celebration ceremonies. Unfortunately, the palace is full. I suggest you find a hotel.”

“I-- b-but--”

Without another word, Christy stalked forwards, staring through Princess Ngaire and her entourage as if they didn’t exist. Mel and Jay followed, and the male pilots, recognising Christy’s intent even if they didn’t understand it, closed in around the three girls. Men and women scattered in front of them, scrambling to get out of the way, and one of Ngaire’s own bodyguards had to yank her out of Mel’s path.

Christy would have gone straight over them otherwise, and the rest of us would have followed, Wufei smirked inwardly, head turned to keep watch behind as the servants beside the door bowed profoundly and pulled it open even further. Mel and Christy are wearing high heels, Jay has steel-tipped dance boots, and I for one would have been stamping.

Nobody said another word until they were all in the dark stretch limousine that had been waiting for them. The cars that had brought Ngaire and the rest of the Aotearoan delegation were parked a little way behind it, and as they pulled into traffic the Princess and her entourage were coming into view at the top of the steps, being escorted out of the palace politely but firmly.

Duo looked forwards, making sure the privacy screen was up between them and the driver, and then turned to Mel. “What. The hell?”

“Seconded,” Heero snapped. “I know you said you didn’t get along with your aunt, but that was ridiculous!”

Mel took a deep breath through her nose, flexing her hands. “My aunt,” she said quietly, “is a bitch--”

“No duh!”

“We noticed,” Asuka growled.

“--and she’s been getting worse lately,” she finished, grimacing. “That was a new low even for her.”

“She’s not entirely sane,” Jay said solemnly.

Mel rubbed at the back of her neck, looking sideways at her. “Um. I wondered about that. How bad?”

“Bad enough.” Jay looked at Quatre, who was rubbing his chest and leaning into Trowa’s shoulder, and he nodded. “I haven’t met her before to get a baseline, but if you say she’s been deteriorating... well, it won’t be long before it’s obvious. She’s really not rational about you, and she’s planning something; I don’t know what. Do you want me to go back and try to get more details?”

“No. Going by past history, she’ll spend the next hour or two ranting to her flatterers about me, youth these days, and the perfidy of fate that prevented her from having the Perfect Daughter to show me up.” Mel sighed, then brightened slightly. “Besides, this is Ngaire we’re talking about; whatever she’s up to, it won’t be either subtle or elegant, and it’s really unlikely to work.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Trowa said quietly. “What was she talking about with Wufei, though?”

Christy was still staring out the window, expression cold; Mel winced, and Jay shrugged. “Don’t ask me, I don’t know. Nobody tells me anything,” she pouted.

“We don’t normally need to,” Dan pointed out dryly. “However, I don’t know either, which I find annoying. Mel, ma cherie, does your unspeakable aunt have something against handsome Hanese men?”

Mel winced again, and Wufei growled under his breath. “I look almost identical to her fiancé,” he said shortly, looking away. “Mel’s deceased fiancé. That-- woman-- was essentially accusing Mel of picking me as her bodyguard because of that resemblance, using me as a toy boy, and being insensitive enough to parade me in front of his family.”

“And sort-of threatening to tell them if I hadn’t,” Mel sighed. “I need to do something to head that particular bit of bile off, if she hasn’t forgotten after Christy’s lovely little speech.”

Christy finally stirred, grim expression thawing slightly. “Still want to go dancing, or would you rather circle around and head back to the palace? They’ll be gone by now.”

“Damned if I’m going to miss out because of Ngaire,” Mel snorted, managing a faint smile. “I might find out if your cellars have any Han plum wine in them after we get back, though.”

Christy grinned back. “Hell, I’m sure there’s a few bottles somewhere in Waset. We’ll find them.”

* * * * *

“General Petrenkovich, sir?”

Madame Garnier’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and uncertain, and the General raised one eyebrow as he looked up from his paperwork. “Vhat is it?”

“We’ve received some new information,” she told him, holding out a sheaf of photos in one hand. The other hand was clasping a personnel file folder to her chest, knuckles almost white. “Satellite imagery. When put together with a few recent intelligence reports, it leads to some rather... unpleasant conclusions.”

“Oh?” Trei bit on the end of his cheroot, puffing absent-mindedly as he used both hands to shuffle through the photographs, stopping on one of the enlargements. It was centred on a face, grainy and blurred but not impossible to make out. “I don’t recognise... vait.” Flicking back to a different photograph, less grainy, showing tiny figures standing between square buildings, he squinted at it. “Zhis looks like...” Trailing off, he shot a sharp look up at her.

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly, laying the file on his desk and opening it to a marked page.

“Chyort,” he said softly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Zhis is confirmed?”

“Not yet.”

“Zhen ve can’t tell her.”

“No, sir. Not yet.”

End of Warped Mirrors
Chapter 25

Chapter 26  

Gundam Wing




















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