Sandman\'s QuickSand

Disclaimer: I....don\'t own any of them sadly. Really really wish I did. I\'m certainly not making money off this though some nice reviews would be great!

Rating: Probably will stay with R for violence and language....I\'m not planning on any sex but one never knows.

Side Notes: Just to let you know the first three chapters will all be character intros then will come the real plot. Uh yes there will be some OOCness. I will do my best to stay as true to the charries as I can but some liberties must be taken so that I can get what I want from them. Also I know some characters much better then others so it will be easier for me to be the true...them. See how many you know and as I said in the somewhat forward....if you feel I should move this to the Xover section let me know and I will do so. Hopefully this posts ok!


Heero snapped from sound asleep to wide awake in an instant. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what but he could just feel it. Something was wrong. To be safe he kept his eyes shut….breathing slowed…heart rate the same as it was moments before. He’d perfected the technique of fooling anyone into believing he was asleep when he wasn’t. Even machines.

Not moving a muscle Heero strained, rather unsuccessfully, to figure out what exactly was wrong. He was still lying in a bed. Maybe a little more comfortable then the one he went to sleep in but since he didn’t worry much about how comfortable or not what he was sleeping on was he couldn’t really be sure. Duo would be able to tell. Maybe he should ask him?

And that’s when he noticed. There was no braided baka glomping him in his sleep. Not even a hint of warmth at his side. He began to panic. If he was hooked up to a machine they’d know he was awake now. Risking blowing whatever cover he might have had Heero bolted upright snapping his eyes open to scan for the other boy.

The differences in the this room from the one he’d gone to sleep in where past notable. First….he’d been sleeping in a double bed, this one was a single. The room before had been almost twice this size. No door was obviously apparent in here. Even with his well trained gaze he couldn’t see a way out of the room. And there was no Duo. No sign the boy had ever been there either.

Luckily…as far as Heero could tell, there was no one else in the sparse room either. Oddly enough there was a bedside table similar to the one he’d gone to bed next to and his gun, which was normally stored under his pillow, was sitting on top of it.

Reaching out hesitantly he snatched it off the wood and checked to make sure it was fully loaded and useable. It was.

Butterflies starting tossing in his stomach. Somehow…without waking him, notorious light sleeper that he was, someone had kidnapped him, transported him, and left him locked up alone in a new room with his weapon. What kind of moronic useless fool would do such a thing.

Kidnapping sure he could understand that. Being held for questioning, torture…whatever. He got that. But giving him a gun? Did they think he was so useless or cowed or drugged that he wouldn’t shoot whoever came to talk to him? It was obviously wasn’t meant for suicide. They would have left him a single bullet for that not an entire clip.

Something wasn’t right. He knew that. The whole thing wasn’t right. But more then that. It just felt wrong. And then he had another panic inducing thought. If they’d managed to grab him did that mean they had Duo? Wufei? Trowa? Had Quatre made it back from his mission before he was taken and they had him too?

Tucking his gun into the back of his cotton pajama pants Heero stood up and started to pace. The gun slipped and he twisted, frantically trying to catch it before it hit the ground. Right then. Safety on. His hands hovered at the small of his back for a moment then deciding it was safer with the gun in his hand he resumed pacing, gun held down by his side, partially hidden by his pants leg.

Should he shout? Maybe his comrades would be in cells next to his. Did he want to sound like he cared. Maybe they intended to use one of the other pilots against him and that was why he was trusted with the gun. Shit shit shit. And on went the pacing while he tried to think.


This was not happening. It simply was *not* fucking happening. He was dreaming damnit. Duo reached down and pinched his arm again. Fuck! It still fucking hurt and he still wasn’t fucking waking up!!! This was not happening.

He tried to be reasonable. He’d gone to bed with Heero. Heero *fucking* Yuy. If someone was going to come in and take him, Heero would have woken up and saved him. Killed the bad guy. Hell *he* would have woken up if someone had tried to pry him off Heero while he was sleeping. This was definitely not happening.

Now he just had to figure out why this was not happening in the dream he couldn’t wake up from. Should he try the pinch again? No. That hadn’t worked that last five times he’d tried. Probably wouldn’t work this time either.

For lack of anything else to do Duo started shouting out Heero’s name. When that didn’t work he tried Trowa and Wufei. Nothing. His voice just echoed back to him, bouncing off the walls like a crazed ball. After a few minutes of that the beginnings of a headache begged him to stop. Not that he listened until it was almost full-blown and much more painful.

He flicked violet orbs over to the bedside table and the knife, could he call it a knife?, possible blade…no it wasn’t long enough for that. Well sharp pointy weapon that he could cut people up with. Sure that. He glared at it sitting on the table mocking him. What the hell was he supposed to do with it.

And another thing…why wasn’t he dressed in his pjs. Frowning he looked down with disgust at the skin tight long sleeved shirt in black. Black. And his black army pants. Army boots completed the ensemble. If they were going to put him in black why wouldn’t they have given him his own priest outfit. Was this some kind of special boot camp for kiddie psychos?

And his gaze slid back to the knife and the black hat sitting beside it. Reluctantly he walked over and reached a hand out for the weapon. Picking it up he really looked at it. Seven inches of death. Sharp on both sides. The top was straight and looked like it could cut through anything like butter. The bottom was jagged…not made for nice cuts… Most likely so he could ram it in someone’s gut and twist and yank destroying everything that got in the way.

Yum. Just what he always wanted. Not for himself he gathered. He wouldn’t need something this dangerous to slit his wrists. Or throat for that matter. And the hat. What the hell was up with that. Was he supposed to go on a night ops mission? Dressed in black and stealthed to kill. What the god damned hell!

Furious Duo spun around and threw the blade as hard as he could at the far wall. To his shock and dismay it clanged off what he had thought to be wood and dropped to the hard floor beneath. He scampered over to the wall and stared. Not even a scratch. He’d thrown that mother hard too.

Great, just freaking great. He was trapped in a steel box. Would he starve to death or would the oxygen run out first. Speaking of air…. A quick survey of the room showed no vents or anything where someone would be filtering in his breathing material. This was so not freaking happening. He gave the pinch one more go telling himself there was no place like home and clicking his steel-toe booted feet together.

Nothing. Didn’t that figure. This blew. Hard. How could this happen in the first place. Was everyone caught? Had they just taken him. Why did they want him. Would the hell was they anyway. Growling under his breath he grabbed up the knife, tucking it away in one of his many pockets and started to pace.


Breathe. Stay calm. Keep your eyes closed. Breathe. Meditate. Go to your happy place. Ignore the room. And the lack of door. And your katana propped oh so nicely next to your bed. Breathe. Don’t think Chang just breathe.

As much as this would normally be no problem for him, especially in such a quiet environment Wufei’s nerves wouldn’t allow him to actually use his meditating techniques. Granted he knew that he’d be able to sense his surroundings. If the door opened he’d know. But the not knowing how he got here was, well in the words of Duo, ‘freaking him out’.

As far as he could tell no one was watching him from a camera or the other side of a mirror or anything like that. But he could just *feel* eyes on him. And he didn’t like to be watched when he meditated. He had to be isolated. Alone. He was not alone. He could just feel it.

As least if he was pretending to not care and appear unruffled maybe who ever put him in his cage would start to wonder and worry themselves. Show themselves. Slip up. Something. Not that he could figure out how they would actually get *in* his room to slip up but still.

That was the crux of his problems he realized. No door. How could a room…any room…not have a door. How did he get in here? How would he get out. Where would his food come from. His ‘questioners’ also know as the Interragation Squad. How could he be beaten for information if they couldn’t get to him. There were no speakers. No vents. Nothing. Just four whole walls and an unblemished ceiling and floor. He’d even checked under the bed.

Wufei opened his eyes slightly to look at his favored weapon. It leaned feet from him looking well…harmless. Not that a katana could actually look harmless but somehow it did. If he was here to be pestered for information about his Nataku or the other pilots why would they give him an instrument to bring them death?

Had they taken the other pilots hostage as well? He couldn’t imagine Heero letting someone take himself without a fight. And Duo had been with him. Between the two of them surely they forced away the intruders and now knew he was gone. They would look for him. Search him out and come rescue him. Or kill him.

They knew of course he’d never say anything. None of them would. Not willingly. But he was sure by now OZ had come up with a *way*. Perhaps death before dishonor would be forced on him. He would never give them up. Or his Gundam. Or there’s.

His eyes slid shut again and he went back to trying to meditate. He would know nothing until the cowards showed themselves. Cowards. God how he hated dishonorable cowards! Taking him in his sleep without a chance to fight. How could they! Just the thought of them laying their treacherous hands on his beloved family heirloom made his skin itch. Breathe. Right. Breathe….

Something was different. Eyelashes fluttered open leisurely so brilliant green eyes could survey his surroundings. Not his bedroom that was for sure. No windows. No door. No dresser. No closet. No…..no door?

Trowa sat up uncertainly so he could see the whole room not just the side he had been facing. But sure enough. No door. Well Toto we’re not in Kansas anymore he thought sarcastically. Keeping half his face hidden behind his bang he gave the room a thorough once over. It was pretty barren. Just his bed and the nightstand next to it. And a gun?

Leaning over Trowa peered at it curiously. It looked remarkably similar to Heero’s gun. Odd. He lifted it cautiously looking it over. Useable. Full clip. Frowning he flicked the safety off and put it back on the table. Then he lay back down in bed and pulled the covers up closing his eyes.

This was very un-OZ like. So if it wasn’t them it was a new player in their dangerous game. He had to assume the others had been taken as well. For a reason. And whatever it was he was sure to not like it. He was however most certain that whatever the reason for his abduction he was going to need to be well rested. Who knew when he’d get another chance? So he might was well sleep now while he had a comfortable bed and no one was bothering him.

He wouldn’t be able to figure out what the hell was going on until someone showed up anyway. If they could. No door. How odd. And that was the last thing he thought before he dozed off into a light sleep.

Taking three quick steps back Ken shifted, shoulder front and dashed at the wall again. He slammed into it with a grunt and then bounced back a step. Rotating his arm gently he stepped back to repeat the process. He’d woken in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed, dressed in his mission clothes. There was nothing to tell him where he was. Or who took him.

He had a feeling this was just the kind of thing Schwarz would do to him. Stick him in a room with no way out. Just to fuck with him. He wasn’t having it. If there wasn’t a door provided he fully intended to make his own. Only…it wasn’t going so well. He’d been at it for almost a half hour and he hadn’t even felt the wall give a little. Whereas he was now on his second shoulder.

Oddly enough they’d left him his bugnuk’s. And he’d tried using those first. Only no matter how hard he’d hit or scratched the wall it had shown no sign of the attack. Ken had quickly figured out the only thing his continued assault with the weapon was going to do was dull his claws. Which he didn’t want. Because the second one of those sick smug bastards showed their face he planned to tear their triumphant look right off. Literally.

Ten more minutes he decided with a sigh. If the wall gave even the tiniest amount he’d keep going. If not…he’d stop before he didn’t have the strength to lift his arms to kill his enemies. Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the thought of Team Psychotic and he darted forward to slam into the wall again.

Ginji looked around his ‘room’ curiously. He didn’t think he and Ban had made the kind of enemies that would snatch them from their car in the middle of the night and put them in a holding cell. But here he was. Then again he’s woken fully clothed in a nice warm, comfy bed. So maybe this was someone who wanted to hire them.

And hoping that had been the case he’d finally crawled out of bed to try the door. Except he couldn’t find one. So now he was sitting on his bed trying to decide what he should do.

If this was a bad person he should be trying to get out of this room, find Ban, and escape. If it was a good person who wanted to give them a ton of money. Well they might get upset if he broke a hole in the wall, or short circuited the place. With a soft hmm his head tilted back, brown eyes slanted up at the ceiling.

Actually….now that he thought about it where were the lights? Yes there was light in the room. He could see perfectly fine. But he didn’t notice any lamps or light bulbs or anything like that. Even those cheap florescent lights companies would buy in bulk to hide in clear ceiling panels weren’t apparent above him. The walls just sort of glowed he guessed.

That made him smile and he stood up quickly. He’d find Ban and ask him whether they should stay or not. And apologize later to the owners if it turned out they where indeed customers. Yeah. Sounded like a plan.

Ginji closed his eyes concentrating until he could feel the air around him fairly crackling with his energy. Then he kind of shoved one hand out touching the wall farthest from his bed trying to shove the electricity through the wall…and thus make a big hole.

Nothing happened. Ginji’s eyes flew open. On hand came up to scratch blond locks in obvious confusion. And then he tried again. And again. And still nothing. His smile drooped a little at the edges and he stopped generating. He reached out tentatively an ran his fingers lightly over the surface of the wall. Not wood. Or metal….it almost had a rubbery feel?

That had him stepping back rapidly and plopping down on the bed. With a sign of frustration he threw himself back so his head dangled off the opposite side of the bed. Bad guys. Who knew who the Lightening Emperor was. A rubber room. Who would have guessed. Certainly made his choices easier. He couldn’t break out. He’d just have to wait until Ban broke in.

Ban was frustrated. Well that wasn’t the word really. He got frustrated when Ginji used the last of their recovery money to buy himself a new CD to listen to in the car. Something he hated, like country. That was frustrating. This was infuriating.

Ban just didn’t understand. He could crush just about anything he could get his hands on….or strike them against. And yet he’d been punching this wall for half an hour on and off and there wasn’t even a dent. The wall FLEXED or something. He’d hit it. The wall would give a little. Ban would pull his fist back for another punch and the wall snapped back into place like it hadn’t be touched.

Even knowing his and Ginji’s strengths no one should have been able to make a room he couldn’t escape from. Striding away from the wall Ban started to pace, blue eyes darkening and becoming more piericing then they normally were. He had to think. There must be a trick to it. Was it an illusion? Was he dreaming?

“Damnit!” Where was that stupid eel freak when he needed him? Ban awkwardly ran his hand through his hair trying to push the long strands back out of his eyes so he could see. Normally waking up within touching distance of the Lightening King kept him from having to fuss with his hair. But when he’d woken up here enclosed in this deathtrap Ginji-less his hair had reverted to it’s normal shape. Which meant flopping in his face. There had been no need to cut it when it stood up and away from his eyes so well. Now it was just irritating. Another perk to this shit set-up he had going.

At this point he didn’t care if this was Ginji’s fault. Nor did he care if it was his. When he found the person responsible for this he was going to kill them. Or make them wish they were dead anyhow.

Ban eyed the wall dubiously wondering if he should even bother. He assumed someone wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of bringing him here and leaving him in this ‘nice’ room if they didn’t want something. Sooner or later someone would come to see him.

Huffing in regret at not being able to foil their plans Ban flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. Who knew when the next time he’d get to sleep in a bed was?