Fic: Resistance (Four)

[mjartrod]

Title: Resistance
Rating: Mostly PG-13 (will warn if a particular chapter has a higher rating).
Feedback: Is always welcome in any form.
Warnings: Slash, language and sex.
Summary: Matt Bellamy has always been a conspiracy theory enthusiast. But what happens when one day, as Muse are leaving Hong Kong after a gig for a month’s break, what is supposed to be a routine interrogation before boarding a flight turns into a manhunt operation where Matt unwillingly plays the main role?
Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictional, even those based on real people and material (having been altered, added or left out for dramatic purposes). I do not own Muse.
Author’s note: The idea came to me after picking up an amazing book in a bookstore a couple of months ago – Stieg Larsson’s first book of the Millennium trilogy. Go read, they're absolutely fantastic.
Would also like to thank Anya for being my beta again and for putting up with my rants and insecurities about this :p


Thanks to wspho for helping me out with the Cantonese too! (English is not my first language, but I definitely know more English than Cantonese PML!)

Can I say again how much I love my beta??? You are FABULOUS!!!! :D :D

 

CHAPTER 4

The double-decked tram sailed along the rails across Kowloon, eventually stopping in what Matt and Dom assumed was a central station, most of the passengers leaving. Opting to stay on for a few more stops, the two musicians retreated to the back, far from prying eyes and ears.

“So the police think you belong to some criminal organisation and blackmailed that Zhang guy to do... whatever,” Dom concluded as Matt recounted the conversation he’d had with the Superintendent over the phone at the café, their faces close as they talked in whispers. “Which would make the money which was transferred to your account your share of the profits or your payment.”

“But stolen from whom? And why me? Why would they pick me as a scapegoat?” The idea that he could be involved in something like this was so preposterous that it was difficult for the singer to imagine how anyone could seriously believe it.

“Maybe one thing is connected to the other,” Dom proffered. “It could be that Zhang guy, Matt. You sure you never heard of him before?”

“No, I haven’t. They mentioned something about gambling during the interrogation at the airport, but I’ve played poker with so many people... Maybe if I see the bloke’s face it’ll ring some bells.”

“Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to set you up. Could be a sore loser.”

“And that doesn’t make any sense, because there’s no way someone would be that cross with me over a few thousand dollars at most,” he shrugged. There could be some animosity, how could there not be with gambling? But he’d never really had a serious row with another player. The worst one he could recall being involved in had actually been on tour with the boys. “Maybe that’s what the police think, that I’ve got myself involved in some edgy scene because of poker. Aren’t triads all about that sort of thing? Gambling and whores and whatever?” Watching through the window as they approached another stop, Matt stood up from his seat, Dom following. “Or it could have nothing to do with poker. I mean, even the Mafia could be in on it. There was a lot of red tape when I bought the house in Como, and all the permissions to build the bloody studio and how long all that took... don’t you think that was strange? I know it was a long time ago, but you never know, yeah?”

Dom didn’t think that made any sense but, considering their current predicament, he wasn’t sure what to think anymore. “I think that first we need to know exactly what you've been accused of.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” the other man nodded emphatically. “That could be achieved with Internet access. I reckon there might be something in the news.” The thought of witnessing his life outside Muse spread all over the news media made the front man cringe, but it was probably their best shot at gathering information. “And I need to check my e-mail account again, find out more about the guy I was supposedly e-mailing... And that triad too. If only I could remember the name they said, or how to spell it,” he sighed, stepping out of the tram as soon as the doors slid open.

The tram continued on its way, leaving both men at the stop. They surveyed their surroundings, trying to decide where to go next; they had no idea where they were. It was darkening towards night fast and, checking his watch, Dom found it hard to believe it had been a mere two hours since they fled the airport. How long until they would again be confronted by the police? Hong Kong was not a very big place.

“Matt, what if...” Dom bit his lip, gazing down at his feet before facing his friend. “What if Chris was serious? What if he was really advising you to turn yourself in?”

“I can’t accept that. You didn’t hear him, Dom,” he shook his head stubbornly as he adjusted the shoulder strap of the laptop bag. “It wasn’t him. I’m not crazy, it wasn’t him. They threatened him and made him say that. And he knew that I would know that, he’s not stupid. I just hope...” Matt's voice softened. “I just hope they’re all okay.”

***

After an hour prowling the area in search of somewhere to get online, both Englishmen constantly looking over their shoulders for any sign of pursuit, they gave up and opted for a different path. They hadn’t yet dedicated themselves to analysing Matt’s Macbook, their attention having been diverted by the e-mails when they were at the café before they were interrupted. But if the singer had been specifically asked about the laptop, surely it meant there was something incriminating to be found on there? At the very least, it could contain something relevant to the case, and it merited a more thorough examination.

So they got themselves some sandwiches and a bottle of water and ended up sitting side by side on a secluded stairway in an old neighbourhood; Hong Kong was considered one of the safest places in the world, so they didn‘t expect to have any problems with potential muggers. But to their dismay, they discovered the laptop refused to switch on, and after fearing it had been broken when Matt had fallen while escaping the police, they concurred it was more likely the battery was flat and it needed to be recharged.

Dropping the bag at his feet, Matt drew his knees up to his chest, picking at the small rip in his trousers from his earlier fall for awhile, then resting his elbows on them with a distant gaze. Dom was hungry, but as he looked at Matt sitting by his side, he found his bite of sandwich particularly difficult to swallow. The singer had remained relatively calm so far. By his standards, of course; he was still very fidgety, continually darting quick, nervous glances around. However, he was focused, agile mind working nonstop and not resorting to panicked hysteria, keeping them on the move. They would have been caught already if Dom was the one calling the shots. But if this wasn’t easy on the drummer, and he only on the fringe of events, he didn’t want to think how his band mate was feeling.

The prospects for the evening were also dim. Night had arrived, and after realising they had no money to pay for a place to stay and considering how keen the police were to catch them, their best plan seemed to lie in killing time until the streets cleared and then finding a safe spot to hide until morning. If they made it unscathed, then they would have the following day to do some investigating of their own.

Matt whispered something as he turned to face Dom, cheek resting on his knee, his soft brown hair matted to his head with the unusual humidity they had been told struck Hong Kong at this time of the year despite the season.

“What did you say?” The drummer leaned forward.

“Remember on New Year’s Eve when I said that 2010 couldn't be worse than 2009? I jinxed it, didn’t I?”

“2009 wasn’t a bad year, Matt... The new album was huge and the gigs went down really well.”

“But apart from that, everything else in my life turned into a fucking mess,” he snorted.

“I know things with Gaia didn’t work out but-“

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Matt cut him off bitterly. “And then you, too... Jesus, Dom, why did you have to...” and he paused, biting his lip.

Dom stared down at his shoes, feeling stupid as guilt bubbled inside him at Matt’s words. Rationally, he knew he had no need to feel that way. “Thanks a lot, Matt. Next time I’ll know better than to share such an important part of my life with you.”

“Don’t be a dick, you know what I mean.“

“You’re the one being a dick, not me.”

“You come up to me one day and tell me you’re gay, how the fuck am I supposed to react?” Matt straightened his back, looking away. “It just... it takes awhile to get used to, that’s all.”

“You’ve had six months to get used to it.”

It was true. But it hadn’t lessened the shock.

Matt had rewound many times to that summer afternoon in Como, right before they packed up and headed for Devon to begin rehearsals, wondering if it hadn’t all been a product of his hyperactive imagination and too much alcohol. Just the two of them in the studio after Chris had left, a pool table and a few bottles of wine; chatting about everything and nothing, tongues loosened by the booze... and as they gossiped about someone they knew, Dom comes out with that one. I’ve been shagging guys, too. At first Matt had thought his band mate was taking the piss, giggling hysterically and spouting yet another half-arsed gay joke at his expense. But Dom hadn’t laughed. A small smile on his lips, his eyes cast almost self-consciously to the floor, he'd worn an expression Matt couldn't ever recall seeing on him before. It dawned on him then that it had been no joke.

A revelation like that could never compromise their friendship, Matt wouldn't allow it. But... things had became so complicated all of a sudden. And truthfully, he hadn’t been sure why, there was no reason for it. All he had known was that he didn’t want to deal with a Dom who saw potential lovers in other men. Including, fucking hell, including Matt himself. Too much of a mindfuck, especially when he began to look back, on everything they’d done together with girls, on things like casually walking around the bus naked. He hadn’t wanted to linger on any of that, Dom was still supposed to be the same person, after all. But Matt always over-analysed, over-thought and imagined... and for fuck’s sake, how could he be the same person when sexuality was such a significant, defining aspect of an individual? Of Dom?

It was obviously no early mid-life crisis, but why couldn’t Dom have figured himself out sooner? He was in his thirties! Matt was in his thirties, he wasn’t supposed to again be questioning these things, as lines blurred and he no longer knew where to draw them. Stuff like this was supposed to have been sorted in his head ages ago.

“And then you trying to gay me up as well...” Matt whispered absentmindedly, realising too late he had spoken out loud.

“Excuse me?!” Dom was indignant, but he found Matt with an apologetic and, in his opinion, rightfully sheepish face. “That’s right, you’d better be fucking joking! And stop saying I’m gay. I’ve told you I still enjoy fucking women.”

“You’re gay. You fuck men and you say you’d never consider a relationship with a woman again,” he insisted. “Not that I'm surprised, considering all the time you've spent horizontal with fucking slags...”

“Yeah, because not being in a relationship with a woman is such a departure for me.” Dom refrained from pointing out how not shagging slags hadn't exactly worked out brilliantly for the singer.

“But that actually helps my point, doesn’t it?”

The blond pointed an accusatory finger at Matt, the conversation grating on his nerves. “Because that defines someone’s sexuality?! If we're going that route, how many relationships have you been in?” Matt gaped, a light flush of irritation staining his cheeks, and Dom knew he was going to argue how he'd spend more than half his life as part of a couple. “What a bigot you turned out to be, that’s all I have to say.”

“What! I’m not a bigot! I just know you well and... and... ” He saw Dom rolling his eyes as he turned away, clearly trying to avoid further discussion. “Whatever.” There was a lengthy, heavy silence before he spoke again, a strange feeling of remorse nagging at him. “Sorry for acting like an insensitive prick sometimes...”

“Sometimes?” Dom replied sarcastically.

“It messed me up a bit, that’s all. I just... I just never imagined.”

Dom smirked evilly. “Didn’t stop you from wanting to see what it was like though, did it, Matt?”

Matt gulped, cursing himself for bringing up the subject in the first place, fingers tearing anxiously at the wrapper of the sandwich he had eaten. “Gotta take advantage of, you know... the benefits of knowing someone who’s into blokes, yeah?” He chuckled uneasily, words beginning to stumble over each other. “Who knows, I could’ve found out I liked men, too. I don’t, so.... Erm, not that that’s because of you,” he rushed to explain. “I don’t mean that you were crap or anything. I just mean that, I meant that, ya know... ” Matt stopped himself from burying his face in his hands; why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?! He had promised himself that everything that happened that week in Australia would be buried there. Melbourne had been the last time and they hadn’t really touched on the subject since, nor did he have any wish to.

“Yes, I know what you mean. I was the lab rat for Doctor Bellamy’s experiment.” Dom shrugged. There were certain things that still stung. But what was done, was done, left in the past, and he didn’t want to go there. When he came out to Matt, he’d been prepared for the temporary strain on their relationship; he’d been prepared for the way his friend’s body would stiffen in his presence. They’d overcome all that and apologies had been accepted long ago. He would overcome this, too, he had to. “And I’m well aware I’m not crap, I don’t need you to tell me that,” he grinned, pretending he hadn’t noticed Matt’s awkward fidgeting. He had to admit he found it amusing.

“So fucking full of yourself,” Matt shook his head, still fiddling with the wrapper noisily. “You should tell the others, really... You know they’d understand.” Secretly, he thought it would probably be easier for them to accept.

“I’ll tell them when I’m ready. As I’ve told you many times before.” It was his decision, not Matt’s, and no amount of pressure would force him into it. “You just don’t like being the only one with the burden of knowing.”

“No, I feel quite, you know, honoured, I guess, that I was the only one you told...” There was now a small heap of shredded paper on the ground at his feet. “Just won’t be much use to you if it all goes tits up and I’m locked up in a cell for fifty years.” And Matt stood brusquely, grabbing the laptop bag by the strap. “We should get moving, been here awhile now.”

Dom nodded, stretching languorously before getting to his feet, grabbing Matt’s coat and handing it to him. The singer hoisted it under his arm with an annoyed sigh as Dom zipped up his leather jacket.

“I need to get rid of this fucking coat.”

“Now you decide to get fashion conscious?”

Matt rolled his eyes at Dom’s smirk. “Ha. Ha. Ha. I’d throw it away if I knew we wouldn’t need it for money.”

“Maybe you can swap it for another jacket, it’s cold.” And he shoved his own hands in his pockets. “Come on, then.”


The streets got progressively emptier as they roamed about. It was cold and difficult not to break into a run when they spotted a vehicle at a distance that resembled a police car. Dom had suggested more than once that they try to hide in a park, but Matt was obstinate in his conviction that if the authorities sent out a patrol with dogs to search for them, the parks would be the first place they would check.

Matt was turning his coat inside out so he could wear it less conspicuously, when the lights turned off in the building beside them, startling them both; it appeared to be a restaurant. Approaching carefully, they discovered a small area around the back of the building, enclosed by a fence with a narrow gate. Cardboard boxes were piled up, and there was old machinery dumped in the shadows. Dom even thought he saw a rat scurrying by. However, when he tried the gate, it was unlocked. They didn’t think twice.

Sitting on the ground in a corner against the wall, shielded by boxes, they remained quiet for a long time, tense and alert to any noise that could signal danger.

“You can try and sleep a bit, Dom. I’ll stay up.”

“You sure?” The drummer looked aside at Matt, his band mate staring upwards at the sky, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The blond huddled, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his knees. “Wake me up when you want to switch.”

“Sure.”

Matt doubted he would be able to close his eyes at all.

***

In the Central district of Hong Kong Island, a man in an impeccable suit stood on the balcony of his top floor suite in a luxury hotel. Night had set in, the island illuminated in the blackness, and he enjoyed the view of Victoria Harbour and the sparkling cityscape. A view of his empire. He felt powerful, in control of his own life and destiny – in control of the fate of others as well. He had always preferred working at night, the dark so appealing; he knew he was in control of all the shadowed corners.

His mobile rang in the living room and he went inside, the device vibrating on the coffee table next to selected pieces of Macanese artwork and the picture of his daughter. He had been expecting this call. His English was flawless and his accent did not betray his origins, but he used Cantonese whenever possible.

“Wei.”

The information was far from satisfactory, but he needn’t be worried. He was confident that events would follow their course without his interference.

It was only a matter of time until the two musicians were caught by the police, and he would sit back and watch things unfold, every one of his goals reached. They had no way out.

_____________________________

Note: Hong Kong Tramways only operate on Hong Kong Island, but this is fiction, so why not?