By: Lyssira Miokii
Disclaimer: Not mine. -_-
Warnings: yaoi, of course, possible sap, possible citrus, pointless humor, major OOC but that's not the point, relena bashing, dorothy bashing, crossdressing, bishie-torture and general silliness. Original Characters.
Pairings: 1+2 3x4/4x3
Rating: PG-13....I think
Last time on Mission Beauty Queen....
Project 05: CONTEST SCANDAL: SELLING FAVORS FOR THE CROWN
Projects 04 and 03: BEAUTY QUEEN TODAY, MOTHER OF THE YEAR TOMORROW
Projects 02 and 01: YUY AND MAXWELL, IS THE ENGAGEMENT OFF?
Mission: Beauty Pageant/Avoid Press/Kill Relena
Two young men, both infamous pilots of Gundam gathered around Heero's laptop, waiting for the snail-paced internet connection to load so that they could contact the five doctors and, hopefully, receive instructions on how to deal with the situation. Though both Perfect Soldier and Silencer doubted their superiors would be pleased with this development, they prayed they would also have some guidance or preferably a very large gun.
As the bar at the bottom of the screen slowly edged it's way over, their three friends began to stir on Wufei's canopy bed where they'd been laid out as a result of the tranquilizers Trowa and Heero had been forced to use on them. Hopefully, the drugs had taken effect and the three ladies' could handle the situation more calmly and without result in any untimely deaths, including and especially that of a certain Miss Sanc rooming three doors down the hall in a sea of various shades of pink.
Quatre for one had been rather hard to control, nearly climbing the walls in order to kill the "mother-f***ing ho" if it was the last thing he accomplished in his young life. He'd fought viciously, using the martial arts instruction Wufei had been giving him. In his half-sane (half not) state the blonde pilot seemed to have no qualms about kicking any equipment' he could reach, a lesson Heero had learned the hard way. He made a mental note to retrieve some ice soon (especially if his abused nether-regions had any say in the matter).
Wufei hadn't been quite so vocal, instead drawing his katana from the umbrella stand and unceremoniously hacking through the door. Duo, the God of Death himself, had truly been the hardest to catch. While Wufei and Quatre had occupied the pilots of Wing and Heavyarms he'd nearly slipped unnoticed out the window, scythe blazing in one hand, a small clay doll suspiciously resembling Relena in the other. They hadn't bothered to tranquilize him after one glance in blazing violet-red eyes, instead knocking out the braided boy with a baseball bat.
Duo groaned loudly from where he'd fallen on the overstuffed mattress, rubbing a growing bump just below the base of his braid. Glaring for all he was worth, Deathscythe's pilot joined the other two by the computer, still obviously angry but no longer glowing a hellish shade of red. He wordlessly accepted a pack of ice from Heero, pressing it gently to his aching skull, raising an eyebrow at the frosty pack the Perfect Soldier clenched to his lap, bronze skin still slightly paler than normal. Trowa's one visible eye seemed to laugh at them and though he made no verbal comments, the banged boy obviously found this amusing. Duo added a manic grin to his scowl, taking this opportunity to smack them both upside the head.
He took one look at the sluggish loading bar, which had moved all of half a millimeter since he'd first stirred, before striding over to the bed and shaking his blonde companion. He considered rousing Wufei as well but the sword remained grasped in his near-death-grip, something he would not have been willing to challenge if Wufei has drunk, violently ill and bound to a steel pole.
Quatre moaned pitifully at Duo's gentle shaking, rolling over and hiding his head in the Asian boy's fluffy purple pillows, patterned with silk roses of a darker violet. He curled into a fetal position, arms wrapped around his stomach as the Arabian all but whimpered his displeasure. Hazy aquamarine eyes glowered at the braided boy as he persisted, looking vaguely worried. He shoved Duo away roughly and hid his head once more, muttering about injustice and aspirin. Yhe American picked up the bottle of sedatives Heero and Trowa had left on the amethyst trimmed dresser, eyes racing over the label, then the side-effects: Beware of irrational mood-swings, severe abdominal pain, headaches and fatigue.  Snorting softly, he shook Quatre again, dodging the pale fist that aimed for his jaw.
"Quatre! It's me, Duo...Are you okay?" he asked, still holding the ice to his head with one hand, tentatively shaking his friend with the other.
"Yes, yes...everything's peachy...everything's always GREAT...of course...why wouldn't it be?"the soft tenor snarling from under Wufei's pillow definitely sounded like Quatre, or perhaps more like Quatre's evil twin who had obviously taken his place.
"What, you don't believe me? I told you, everything's fine Duo, perfectly fine. Why is it no one ever believes me?"
"Of course I believe you, Quat. Just checking," he grinned.
"Just checking, " Quatre sneered, "Everybody's just checking on me! I'm fine...Wouldja cut the goddamn checking!?!?"
Duo blinked before backing away slowly and taking a seat beside Heero who was still nursing his injuries.  Trowa shook his head, keeping a distance from his lover. Now, the pilot of Sandrock's large, blue-green eyes filled with tears and he began to wail piteously.
"Why are you all leaving me ALONE?!!?" he bawled, "I'm all by myself here except for Wufei and he's comatose! You all don't LOVE ME ANYMORE!!!!!"
Trowa sweatdropped, nearly falling over from his standard pose of leaning against the wall.
Somehow this feels vaguely familiar he thought but said nothing, instead going over to hold the weeping beauty's hand.
"But you told us to leave you alone," Duo pointed out, also wrapping an arm around Quatre's, or rather Katie's, slim frame.
"I said stop CHECKING on me, "the blonde sniffed, "Not abandon me for DEAD!!!!!!"
He broke down again, crying until his eyes became red and puffy, while Trowa's shirt became an increasingly damper shade of forest green.
"Quatre," he murmured softly, "I would never abandon you for dead."
"Good," the Arabian snapped,"Because I'm all you got."
Duo sighed once, before taking Trowa's place beside the ever present laptop, taking a swig from the his neglected coffee, making a face at the rich flavor before dumping half of the sugar shaker into it. Heero grimaced at how sweet his partner's drink would be but quickly forgot anything to do with coffee, set instead on watching Duo drink the heavily doctored brew, the muscles in his smooth, almost ivory white, throat, how he licked his lips, ridding the pale, luscious, pink flesh of all traces of sugar...
Shaking his head briefly, the Perfect Soldier smacked himself for staring, catching Duo's inquiring glance.
"S'matter, buddy? Earth to Heero? Awake yet?" he grinned briefly, unaware of the rapt attention his every move earned.
On the bed, Wufei grumbled loudly, acutely feeling the effects of his hangover in every way possible, the effects multiplied as a result of the drugs his comrades had pumped him with. The dark haired pilot rolled over-slowly this time to avoid puking his guts onto the expensive carpeting. He scowled through watery onyx eyes at the two youngsters seated on his bed, as Quatre continuing his tirade of being ignored and harassed. Still holding his sword tightly, he eyed the ruined door's replacement, marveling at how they'd repaired it so quickly, wondering if he'd ever actually sliced through the polished mahogany.
Hangovers were a total bitch, that much was certain. He compared the various effects of too much alcohol with those caused by the future Queen of the World, not sure which he'd prefer being cursed with for the next two weeks.
I think the hangovers have my vote, the Chinese man grumbled, his eye catching the "Daily Yodel" spread across his coffee table. Once again he went over the proper ways to execute an offending female while staying within the codes of honor. After this little incident, doctors or no, they were going to have to hire protectors from her protectors, especially if the young Dragon had any say in the matter.
He deliberated partaking in the fresh fruit laid out next to the accusing piece of newsprint, then considered dashing for his expensively furnished bathroom and emptying his stomach in the ornate marble toilet. 
Neither became necessary when he stumbled over to the medicine cabinet to drain the aspirin bottle, not even stopping for water.
"Hey, Wufei," Duo called, flinching at the sight of the warrior popping pills so easily,"You okay?"
His response was a strangled, rasping grunt.
"No differences I can see," the braided boy shrugged, the other three boys slowly gathering around the laptop, which had finally decided that would be an opportune time to finish loading and to connect to its sadistic internet server.
"Damn slow machines..."Quatre whined, raising a fist to the computer which Heero silently blocked. Nobody touched his laptop but him. Not Duo. Not Quatre. Not Trowa. Not Wufei. Him.
<<You've got mail>>
The familiar automated sound was music to his ears. Flourescent, artificial light caressed his pupils fondly. This was where he preferred to be, not in a world so complicated no genius engineer could untangle the knots. In fact it was quite possible any genius engineer would be smart enough not to even bother.
The details of your recent predicament have not escaped us. We must inform you that it had been our expectation you would handle this assignment professionally. Each one of us thought you were better than this. Obviously we had been mistaken in our trust in your abilities. So let it be made clear to you now, any further incidents will be considered mission failure. Understood? No more mistakes will be tolerated.
Since your current situations calls for action we have contacted you in order to offer our advice. However, you are not children, no matter how you act, and the choice remains yours to decide on which way to deal with the situation. Often in such cases of slander, celebrities hire spokes-people or publicists to address the public. It would be well advised that you five hire someone to represent you to the press and to further your training as model queens and their escorts. Contact the local fashion agency. They should be able to find managers for you.
Remember your mission
J, G, S, H&O>>
Donning trench-coats, sunglasses, and large fake mustaches, the five, deadly Gundam pilots slipped out the back door into the daylight, thought two nearly gave them away by squawking about sensitivity to light or something to that effect.
Very little of interest occurred on the way over to the agency, mostly more of Quatre's newfound bitching capabilities, and Wufei's constant grumbles in what sounded like a guttural form of Chinese but one could not be sure. Trowa said nothing, as usual. Duo focused mainly on steering clear of Quatre, Wufei and Heero, who had been giving him the oddest looks this morning.
He wound up marching stride in stride with a group of women, carrying a banner proclaiming "End Discrimination Against Women in the Work Force" and sporting mock-Beauty Pageant sashes marked with Miss 80 hour Week and Miss Un-promoted. He blinked, surprised to hear one of them muttering justice in a sullen tone nearly identical to Wufei's.
The Fashion Agency was a large pale pink building trimmed in gold, suspiciously resembling what Relena Headquarters might look like if her whacked worshipers...err...dedicated admirers decided to construct such a building. It was the deepest hope of each pilot that this idea would never enter their heads, for one building of such....cheerful magnitude was definitely enough for the world.
They slid in through the gold-veined glass of the entrance, though they barely made it to the front desk before a blur of bleach blonde and various shades of baby-blue (though any other might assume there was one shade of baby-blue and one only) launched itself at Quatre, who's face pinched with absolute agony as he grabbed his gut. The blur, who was actually a tall, young woman, immediatly latched onto the slim...person's arm, her carefully made-up face practically oozing with concern as she gushed.
"Oh you poor, poor girl!" the stranger squealed. Trowa, Heero and Wufei stared, bewildered, not at all sure if they should draw their guns or back away slowly...
"Eh?' Quatre blinked, nearly crossing his eyes to get a good look at what appeared to be a large growth on his arm that had some how fallen out of the Gap.
"Oh don't try to hide your pain, sweetie. It's a beautiful thing, nothing to be ashamed of!" she hugged Quatre tightly, nearly suffocating the blonde between her cotton-polyester blend clad, victoria secret buffered, probably surgically-enhanced....
You get the idea.
He gasped for breath when released, trying to make out something of the girl's babble, for she had not ceased talking since her first few sentences, rambling on and on at speeds Relena herself could not have matched.
"What?" the Arabian wailed finally, slowly growing redder by the minute, suddenly realizing what she meant by 'natural course' and 'happens to every girl'.
"Oh, don't worry about it Katie, I have some wonderful teas that will make you all better!" the girl cooed, grabbing Sandrock's pilot and dragging him off...
"You guys can pick her up on the way out!"
Trowa Barton watched, dumbfounded, as the love of his life was yanked out the door, with a look of absolute terror on his pale face.
"Umm......"Duo glanced at his comrades.
"Did anyone catch what just happened here?"
Ten more minutes in the large pink-decorated building, which also involved a great deal of the rosy color on the interior, found the quartet in an upstairs office, surrounded by so much designer clothing they'd begun to know the brand-names by heart. They pushed through the crowds, having dropped their disguises at the entrance, doing their best not to look like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar or.....whatever.
A young man sprawled almost bonelessly at the nearest desk, his pale hair thickened with so much gel it was almost frightening. His bored blue eyes focused on them briefly, then zoned out again, pupils suspiciously wide. A well-cut designer sports jacket and silk tee sat ill with his otherwise bedraggled appearance, as though he might have woken up five minutes ago or not at all. A small plaque balanced haphazardly on the edge of his desk, stacks of papers looming over it. It read, in elaborate calligraphy, ALEX & MUELLER : PUBLICISTS.
"Hey sweetie," the blonde growled, though whether he meant Delia or Wendy, one could not be sure. Automatically, Heero moved between his partner and Alex or Mueller, not missing the man''s disappointed glare. Instead of becoming angry, however, he changed his target, reaching for Wufei's short white skirt, fingers just about to get a handful of the Chinese boy's ass.
A loud crack cut through the air, followed by cursing that did not belong to Shenlong's pilot at all. Their would-be publicist was so busy cradling his limp right hand he failed to notice one glittering high-heel aimed straight for his face.
Wufei slid off his shoe a moment later, not sparing a glance for the man downed on the floor but examining his heel.
Soon they came to another desk, this one occupied by another young man. This time Trowa had courageously decided he had better pretend to be Wufei's escort, if only for the sake of the employees normally going about their business. Their newest attendeant looked far more professional than the last, warm blue eyes and dark hair contrasting handsomely. His plaque read DARIEN: SECRETARY. Wufei growled ferally at his smiling face, though this young man didn't flinch at all. Instead he placed a comforting hand on Trowa's arm.
"Hang in their buddy," he smiled," We all know how they can be during that time of the month."
Trowa blinked once before regarding the fuming volcano that had replaced his Chinese friend.
"I AM NOT PMS-ING!!!!!!!!!" he roared, rattling pink-tinted windows slightly. Silence descended over the busy office room as everyone turned to stare at Wufei. Darien smiled apologetically.
"Of course you're not, Miss," he said. Everyone sighed and returned to their previous activities, the happy murmur continuing as if it had never happened.
Duo stifled a snicker in his hand before taking up the conversation with ease," Now that that's cleared up, we would like to know if you could set us up with a publicist/media-representative."
"No problem, sweetheart," Darien grinned, spinning to face his computer, "Just fill out a form for me and we can get you set up in a couple days."
Had they not been in desperate need that would've been pretty good. But there would be another event after that weekend.
How could they possibly be ready by then without some help?
In the parking-lot, their friend from earlier, approached with a smiling, giggling Quatre at her side, looking almost insanely happy. A worried frown etched itself between Trowa's brows. The only other times he'd ever seen his angel that happy were during......polo.
"Hi Trowa!" he sang, immediatly glomping onto his boyfriend so tightly that he began to lose circulation immediatly.
"Hello...Katie..." he replied slowly, eyes widening when the blonde smacked a large, wet kiss right on his lips, complete with tongue. He was too stunned to even respond.
"Glad to see me Trowa?" the blonde twittered...(yes twittered) happily, waving good-bye to his new friend.
"I'm so glad you're feeling better Katie!" she called after them, a slightly deranged smile on Barbie-doll-pink glossed lips.
"Quat-Katie?" Duo tentatively asked.
"What the fuck did she give you?" he blinked once.
"Oh she didn't GIVE me anything!," Miss Saudi Arabia laughed brightly, " I had a nice cup of chamomile tea at her place and she washed my hair with Herbal Essence ()! I feel so much better now, you would too!"
"Okay, Quatre," Duo replied before taking another step closer to Heero, who continued with his usual stoic expression.
Wufei followed, practicing his martial arts stances in heels, face meeting pavement more than once. He didn't seem to care and insanely gleeful when he actually pulled a kick off in the heels, managing the chip the nose off a marble statue nearby.
These 'heels' could be useful, he thought.
Trowa joined Heero in silence, watching in detached fascination as his hand turned purple, than white.
Before long they had reached the Pageant Hall, walking in, unsuspecting, through the main entrance. It was all of five seconds before the masses descended on the five teens, who had left their disguises at the Fashion Agency. The turkeys had found the slaughterhouse, so to speak.
The exits had been cut off. The air ducts were sealed. Every beam and cable lay completely out of reach, even for the most talented acrobats. The formerly invincible Gundam Pilots were trapped by a force greater themselves. Specifically: the media. Every reporter, camera-man and copy-editor within a hundred mile radius gathered in the Pageant Hall, esteemed Pulitzer Prize winners joining forces with the near-fiction writers responsible for tabloids.
Evidently, the Romefellar Pageant lay claim to a great deal of prestige and was critically monitored by the press. Now they were doing their utmost to evade said press and failing miserably. So many skills and abilities at their disposal, yet by noon their stalkers were quickly closing in, vultures beginning to circle over ahead and Tombstone pizza publicists lining up for a new commercial gimmick on untimely demises.
Questions pierced the air like bullets. The five agents stood back to back, presenting a united front to the enemy, as was the ideal tactic in this situation. Still, despite their joined strengths, even these soldiers would admit to shaking in their shoes as the too-bright smiles and oh-so-professional outfits inched nearer and nearer to them. But just when it became too much and one of them would be forced to stammer out a reply, another voice broke the endless stream of inquiries.
"We can answer your questions, ladies and gentlemen," a very feminine soprano rose above the masses. Heads whipped towards the doorway, including those of the corner rebels to where two figures stood shaded in the sunlight, hands on hips , regarding the crowd with intelligent, disdainful expressions.
The first of the two kept to the front, grinning ferally, eyes glinting as if she could easily parry each and ever question thrown her way. Long sunset hued hair (an amazing spectrum of oranges, reds, pinks and purples) hung down her back, just reaching slender hips. Her skin hovered only a few tones above coffee. Hard, dark eyes flickered from behind square-rimmed glasses, assessing, judging, condemning. There was a spark of ruthless intelligence in those eyes, the kind that would burst into a roaring flame if provoked.
She stood out among the press as well, knee-length denim skirt and glittering black sweater causing her to appear so much like a crow among pigeons. They were mean pigeons, too, carrying notepads, tape-recorders, microphones and camera, all wearing another shade of gray or plaid.
The crow's companion could be easily overlooked among them, especially if one was not blessed with the senses of a Gundam pilot or assassin. She blended in well with the shadows of the Main Hall and its occupants. Another pair of dark eyes peered from her glasses, these orbs were more curious than fierce, more kind than antagonistic, but holding that same aloofness and inspecting just as thoroughly. An unruly, midnight blue mop of hair barely touched her shoulders, framing her face, though most of it was obscured by bangs, rivaling only Trowa's in their...unique-ness.
A simple three-piece out fit was the cause of her blending, dark gray embroidered with spirals the same blue as her hair. It consisted of a blouse, dress-slacks and a duster to the floor, the ensemble enabling her to be a chameleon with a skill even Heero was forced to admire. She was so easily overlooked in a crowd, few ever noticed her presence, let alone glanced for more than an instant. When she addressed the crowd, several of them jumped, as they realized this shadow was a woman.
"Most esteemed ladies and gentlemen of the press'," her words were loaded with unspoken insult, "To help answer a great deal of your inquiries and alleviate your doubts, my colleague and myself were hired to make statements on behalf of Miss Chang, Miss Maxwell and Miss Winner.
"The corporation we work for is JHOGS  and Sons. Should any of you need proof of valid information, call them. Now, the matter at hand. These particular incidents were the product of rumors. Rumors which are not true or detrimental to the pageant. If you would like more proof, let us know.
"We'll be happy to supply you with evidence of these truths. And from now on, I strongly suggest that all of you stick to the facts, not the jealous and ludicrous fairy tales of a naive teenage girl. Miss Rikaru, my associate, will respond to any other issues you would like to discuss."
She swiftly disappeared behind her partner, speech swiftly and bluntly given in a monotone, not totally dissimilar from Heero's, as if she had no time for tact, unnecessary details, or emotion. Clamoring and babble quickly filled the air at her abrupt exit, almost as sudden as her entrance had been. The first young woman leveled an unnoticed glare at the speaker, less than grateful for the chaotic mess left behind. The masses of people nearly knocked them out the door, pressing, shoving and waiting for no one.
Heero found himself lost in a sea of people, panicking until he located each and every one of his comrades. Duo was last, to the Perfect Soldier's dismay, brows furrowing as he could not spot the ridiculous swinging braid or twinkling violet eyes. Finally he found his friend in the last possible place..... next to him, stubbornly pushing back against the crowd in an effort not to lose sight of his allies. He was just close enough to touch, the boys only inches apart....
Heero shook himself, mentally, banishing the thought. Back to what was going on in the real world, now that it was apparent his friends were safe, he focused on the speakers who had so mysteriously appeared to save them.
I didn't think the fashion agency would be so quick to help us.
Many of the reporters were shouting, their demands launched at the speakers, both calm if a bit miffed at being treated so roughly.
"But what about the evidence?"
"People saw Chang with Kushrenada!"
"They were drinking together, what ELSE could have happened?"
"She's a dirty cheater, I swear!"
"Or Miss Winner? What about that, eh?"
"People heard strange sounds coming from the dressing room!"
"She brought her boyfriend here, for Christ's sake! What else would they be doing?"
"I bet Delia snuck out so THEY could have time alone. Horny teenagers, that's what!"
"What about Maxwell?"
"A good number of US saw that fight!"
"And the slap! She HIT him!"
"Anyone who didn't see it, definitely HEARD it!"
Duo flushed slightly, eyeing the marks on Heero's face with guilt.
Somewhere else in the crowd, Quatre grinned at his lover. They'd caused quite a stir, ne? After the initial shock of being discovered, most of his guilt had melted away, leaving only a burning sort of pride. He wanted the world to know how he felt now, that he was damned glad they'd almost screwed in Duo's dressing room and would repeat the entire scenario if given a fraction of a chance.
Catching the grin, Trowa squeezed his manicured hand happily, wondering if they might choose an even more public place for their escapades next time. And there would be a next time or Relena's next date would not be with the Perfect Soldier, but with the Silencer, in more ways than one. And Shinigami, though he hated forcing that bitch upon poor Duo.
Wufei stood alone once more, paying rapt attention to the flame-haired girl's response.
Her eyes rolled, an un-lady-like snort nearly escaping glossed lips. "Number one. It happens to be that nothing occurred between Wendy Chang and Treize Kushrenada. They had a few drinks, which is not against regulations since Wendy is 22. I have spoken to several hotel attendants and the barkeep, all of whom repeatedly told me Wendy returned to her room, heavily intoxicated but alone.
"Secondly, I know for a fact that Mr. Barton and Miss Winner did nothing inappropriate IN THE DRESSING ROOM. That is the only place where Katie could be disqualified for creating such a disturbance. There are tapes proving this. Whatever happened in the hotel," the woman's grin widened, making her appear even more manic, "is none of our business. It's between them and no one else.
"The third subject I cannot speak for. But Miss Maxwell and Mr. Yuy were never officially engaged. Another rumor, a miscommunication, if you will. As for their relationship and whether or not they are still 'together', that is up to Delia. We'll have to wait and see. Thank you."
Gesturing slightly to the five boys...err...two boys and three girls...err...whatever, the young women ignored their audience. Then, she mirrored her companions exit on the other side of the room, vanishing through the massive double doors. The movement of her hand had not been lost on the...people standing in the middle of the room, knowing that this strange savior meant for them to follow.
They quickly complied, leaving before it was discovered they were still within reach of the media. The boys followed the waterfall of color, ending up in a small conference room to the left of the hall, all five, no matter their assumed gender, much relieved to have left the "enemy" behind.
Yet when they'd all gathered, Heero was torn between attacking their new allies and kissing them out of gratitude.
 Hmmm...This sounds familiar, ne? I vote they should make a pill that gives guys the symptoms, THEN they can make all their stupid jokes about "that time of the month." I've graduated from Sex-Ed four times....argh....tis not fun,
 In Heero's defense, I asked a couple guy-friends of mine how painful it is to get kicked in balls...Hehe....One said he wouldn't recover for weeks....
 Actually that little bit doesn't belonged to me. I borrowed it from a $.50 novel I was reading in the drugstore.
 There are marble toilets! One hotel my family stayed at had them...it was weird...
 Standard intro anime pose...Think Sailor Moon when she's making her big speech...
 Sound familiar? Its should. JHOGS was the best I could come up with. More on that in Part 5.