Chapter 7: Preventative Measures

Within the jam packed auditorium, one restless souls eyes the incoming crowd of delegates and onlookers with piercing glances up and down the room.

He scans his gaze over each person as they search for their designated seats. His suspicious, accusing glare falls upon each one of them, whether or not they knew it or liked it.

One minute, the respected representative of a foreign nation would be engaging another in pleasant conversation as he or she finds his seat. The next, he'd feel the piercing icy eyes looking him up and down as if he were no more than a wanted criminal--that or a rack of lamb hanging before its executioner.

After noting yet another governmental chief scurrying as far away as his short, little legs could take him in the crowd as he glances back at his "stalker's" unforgiving, accusational stare, Sally Po turns an angry eye upon the poor, innocent man's attacker.

"You're supposed to be monitoring the crowd, not scaring them to death." She breathes as she was trained, under her breath in low tones no one else should be able to hear, even though her face was still composed and smiling to any onlookers.

No reply.

Second try.

"Scan the crowd, yes. But we're supposed to be inconspicuous. That's why we're attired in civilian man-on-the-street wear." Sally looks down upon her own disguise, feeling a tad uneasy herself in the high-heeled pumps, pantyhose and short skirt. She was on the job now and would've felt far more comfortable in a pair of pants and workboots than in this get-up.

Rarely nowadays did she ever dress like a "normal" female. She much preferred the hands-on, equal partner look than the feminine approach.

"Hmph."

At least that time, she got an answer. Well, sort of, in the form of a disapproving quick scan of her body and a dissatisfied grunt following.

Gee, thanks. Sally smirks to herself, growing more and more accustomed to her erratic partner's bad behavior and small, small talk.

I didn't think I looked that bad.

With that hidden smile, she finds her male companion now just finishing his glare upon an elderly lady.

Third and final try before things get rough...

"That's not a disguise, Wufei. It's just an old woman with a bad hair day. Stop frightening her." Sally's whisper almost becomes audible in her smiling exasperation.

Ah, finally, his lips moved in response. At last.

"It's not the old woman I'm interested in. It's her basket." Chang Wufei's glazed glare pierces at the old lady's large basket as if his black eyes could see through to its contents if he stared hard enough.

"She's making her move." Always ready for a struggle, Wufei's heightened warrior senses take hold of him. Sally shakes her head to warn him off as she watches his swift hand reach inside his guise of a inconspicuous grey business suit. He begins to unsheath his trusty hidden sword.

How the hell did you get that through the security scan at the front entrance?!

"No, Wufei! Wait and see!" Sally whispers in authority, going above and beyond her duty of bravery as she sticks her hands inside Wufei's suit jacket and blessedly, doesn't get her fingers--or head--chopped off by the razor sharp sword. She forcefully grabs the hilt and shoves it back down into its sheath. "Wait!" She mouths, right in his face, her hands were wrapped over his, holding the anxious sword down.

"Woman...grrrr...."

The audible growl ensuing from the angry Chinaman's throat could've been frightening, especially to Sally. She knew his strength could pull that sword out any said second and her along with it.

But with Wufei, Sally was long past fright. She turns back to the scene in question, her own spring action movements readied as both she and a growling Wufei watch the old woman make her way through the crowd to a certain pair making introductions. The old lady simply reaches into her basket and hands the beautiful young woman a lavender carnation--matching the young lady's suitclothes. She pins it to her jacket with a kind, harmless smile.

"I don't know if you've ever met my dear brother, Milliardo." Relena Peacecraft-Darlian thanks the old woman who scurries away into the crowd, Wufei's eyes still following her.

She introduces her brother to this group of top representatives who have come to know and respect Miss Darlian so much in the political arena. Because of that respect for her, most of the officials simply nod pleasantly. Each of them were fairly certain just who this Milliardo Peacecraft was from before during his OZ and White Fang days. But peaceful minded as they were, they were prepared to let bygones be bygones and not delve into past wrongs--only towards the future rights.

That's what they all had in mind as Relena walked up to them with the wayward brother on her arm. All but one crusty old fellow, that is.

"I remember your face, young man. Wore a mask, yes." The over hundred elderly gent bangs his cane on Milliardo's noggin--slightly, sort of.

"Didn't you use to be a top member in Treize Khushrenada's organization?" Justice Thom, at the youthful age of 103, was not known for his memory or his tact. But when one failed him the other was sure to kick in. This was one such time when fading memory hit, but tact, upon saying such a reknowned name loudly through the conference hall, did not.

Silence.

The bustling crowd of peaceful seat seekers freeze in place it seemed at the mere mention of that one name. Sally, her hand on Wufei's sword still, feels his grip tighten around his sword hilt again at the word. She was sure he was going to draw it this time and chop off a few heads in frustration from the look on his face. But the flash of anger passes. Wufei resheaths fully the sword and hangs his head.

"Treize." Wufei's eyes close in mystery of his feelings on the subject, causing Sally's brows to furrow in worry and wonder...