The assassin nervously checked his long-range rifle for the twenty-third time and, for the twenty-third time, rebuked himself for checking it again. He was making himself nervous. Not to mention that this would be his first kill- outside a mobile suit, that is. No matter how many times he ordered his hands to stop shaking and his gut to stop clenching, there was still the nervousness- and the fear.
The mind-numbing, limb-paralyzing, vomit-inducing-- oh shit. For the twenty-third time, he dropped his rifle and hurried into the bathroom of the empty apartment he had broken into for this job. After once again worshipping the porcelain god with an offering of what he thought- and had thought the previous twenty-two times- was the last of his sorely taxed stomach's contents, he returned to his vigil by the window.
Since he had dropped his rifle in the scramble, he picked it up and nervously checked it for the twenty-- was it twenty-third or twenty-fourth time? Maybe twenty-fifth? Shit, he'd lost count. Before he could mull over the elusive number, the doors of the building across the square burst open, and a group of delegates poured forth followed by a swarm of reporters. Those delegates were moving awfully fast to their cars....
Cursing, the assassin raised his rifle and searched for her through the scope. Ah, there she was, the beautiful blond, his target. She was almost to the limo...
He took quick aim, fired, dropped his rifle, and ran. He may have been willing, however reluctantly, to kill a girl that was deemed guilty by the tattered remnants of a group of revolutionaries once known as the White Fang, but there was no well in hell he was going to get caught with smoking gun in hand. Besides, he had to get home and watch the news to see what coverage the assassination was receiving.
It wasn't until he sat down to the news, soda in one hand, bag of chips in the other, that he learned his hastily made shot had missed.
Dorothy Catalonia approached a dark alley slowly, peering into the shadows in hopes of finding the sign her informant had told her would be there. She both hoped and feared that it would be there. If it was there, then for once her informant was right; it wasn't that she didn't trust his information, just that he- Squishy, Squeegy, whatever his name was- had given her so many false leads that she wasn't sure whether the poor man could find his way out of a wet paper bag.
This particular lead scared her though. It wasn't the seedy neighborhood she had to pass through to get here or the prospect of stepping into a dark alleyway. It was the fear of stepping on the dark alley's denizens. Big, hairy rats, one of the only things that could shake the usually unperturbable Dorothy Catalonia. Someone just had to mention the filthy rodents, and Dorothy would shudder and immediately look for a shower. She hated rats.
Unfortunately for her- or was it fortunately?- Squeegy had been right. There was the faintly lit sign on a door down the alley. Ground Zero, the sign proclaimed. The bar where she would supposedly find the former gundam pilot Heero Yuy. It wouldn't do to get her hopes up to high though. Squishy had said this was the last possible place Heero could be, and if he wasn't here, then Dorothy would have no choice but to return to Preventer HQ empty-handed. Or maybe find a better informant.
Tucking a long blonde strand of hair that had managed to escape her ponytail behind her ear, Dorothy walked into the alley- praying that she wouldn't encounter any creatures- and approached the door. She was lucky; nothing went "Squeek" beneath her foot. She pulled open the door and stepped into the dim interior of the bar.
A dozen tables, all empty, were scattered around, and Dorothy weaved in between and around them as she crossed to the bar where the only patron sat. His shoulders were hunched, and his head was lowered, his unruly brown hair falling forward to shadow his face.
Dorothy touched his shoulder. "Heero, you're a hard man to find."
Heero turned, and Dorothy saw that it wasn't Heero at all. "Hey, babe, I'll be your hero anytime."
Dorothy jumped back. It was her informant! "Squishy! What are you doing here?"
"Squishy? Sushi! My name's Sushi! Where did you get Squishy? Geez, woman! Get it right!"
Dorothy shrugged and sat on the stool next to him, once again her cool self. "I thought you said Heero would be here."
Sushi sipped his drink, savoring its taste on his tongue. When he found what he considered to be the best approach given the situation, he swallowed and answered truthfully, "Heero is here, but I'm not sure if he wants to see you. He's gone through a lot of trouble to have me give you false information about his whereabouts. Hell, he didn't even pay me, but he is a friend-"
Dorothy interrupted, "So he's here? I need to talk to him."
"Well, he doesn't need or even want to talk to you."
"But-"
"Why?"
Dorothy's head whipped towards the new voice. Heero stood in a doorway that she had previously overlooked due to the dim lighting and her focus on Sushi. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest, Prussian blue eyes studying her, expression completely unreadable except for a slightly quirked eyebrow as he waited for her answer.
"There was an assassination attempt on Relena Dorlian."
Heero nodded, unsurprised.
Dorothy watched his reaction closely. "The Preventers have been searching for the assassin, but we haven't found anything other than the weapon."
Heero nodded again. All this he had heard. He straightened and grabbed a couple of bottles and three tumblers off a shelf behind the bar. Mixing the drinks, he calmly waited for Dorothy to continue.
Dorothy finished, "I was sent to get you. You can succeed in finding the assassin where we failed."
The mixing complete, Heero poured the concoction into the waiting glassware and slid a glass to Dorothy and one to Sushi. Sushi tossed back his drink and set the glass on the bartop with a thunk. "Well, that's my cue to leave. G'luck, Heero. I guess I won't be sending any chicks your way tonight."
Heero grunted, and Sushi slipped outside. Dorothy regarded Heero with an expectant look, completely ignoring Sushi's departure. Finally Heero answered her request, "No."
"No?"
"No. I have a life. I left the Preventers with the knowledge that if any problems arose, they'd be able to handle it. This is a problem. They can handle it."
"But we can't! I wouldn't be here if we could do it on our own!"
Heero turned away, placing the bottles back on the shelf. "You're too dependent on me. Go away."
Dorothy shot to her feet, slamming her palms against the bartop and causing her over-filled tumbler to spill. "What about Miss Relena? Don't you care for her enough to-?"
Heero whirled back around. "No! She no longer needs my protection! The Preventers were formed to keep the peace, and part of that means protecting her! So quit whining to me and do your job!"
Dorothy matched him glare for glare and snapped, "I am! I was there when she was shot! I was there searching through the buildings to find the assassin! I'm here trying to get you to help! I am doing my job!"
"Oh," Heero drew the word out, making it sound as though he had just become privy to the world's greatest mysteries. "Maybe I should go back... if all the other Preventers are as incompetent as you."
Thwack! Dorothy lowered her hand from Heero's face where a red palmprint now graced his cheek. "Forget it! Une was wrong! You've been out of the loop so long that your reflexes are probably shot-" Dorothy broke off when she felt the cold metal of a gunbarrel on her forehead.
"You doubt my reflexes now?"
Dorothy snorted and pushed the gun away, falling back on the teachings that had been drilled into her mind by her grandfather in the name of preserving the noble way of doing things. "So you're a quick draw. The only true way to test your reflexes is to fence, but-"
"I accept your challenge." Heero reached beneath the bar, drew out two rapiers, and tossed one to her. Dorothy stared, dumbfounded, at the blade in her hand, and Heero vaulted over the bar and offered her a wager, "If you win, I'll help you. If not, I want you to go back to Une and tell her that she has no right to expect me to be at her beck and call."
Dorothy continued to stare, until brain and tongue once again connected. "You keep swords beneath your bar?"
Heero shook his head. "Normally, no. I knew you would be coming here, and I had a feeling you would want to do this. So shall we begin?"
Dorothy nodded and, shaking her head to dispel any lingering dazedness, raised her weapon. She would show him how much her skills had improved since the last time they had crossed swords.
Heero lunged first, an act so unlike him that Dorothy recoiled as much from surprise as from a natural reaction. She continued to be forced back by his wild attack, barely parrying his slashes as her mind worked furiously to grasp his strategy. As soon as she thought she understood what he was going to do next, he would suddenly do something completely different and throw her off-kilter even more.
She abandoned her mental task when she backed into the wall and realized what Heero was doing. It was obvious. He had just been drawing her concentration to him so she would lose track of her surroundings.
Heero grabbed her wrist and yanked the sword out of her grip. Two rapiers in hand, he bowed, turned away, and walked back to the bar. "You've been disarmed; I've won."
Dorothy stared at him and argued, "That wasn't a legal move!"
Heero shrugged and returned the blades to their spot beneath the bar. "Maybe not, but I still won."
"I demand a rematch!"
"You can demand all you want, but you're not getting one."
Dorothy pursed her lips. There really was nothing else she could do to convince him to help. Slumping in defeat, Dorothy stepped towards the exit. "Well, thanks for the workout anyway."
Heero clamped a hand on her shoulder, effectively stopping her. "You really do need my help, don't you?"
Tired from arguing and the spar, Dorothy snapped, "It doesn't matter much now, does it? I lost, you have no obligation to help."
"I'll go with you."
"What?" She glanced back at him, surprised to see concern in his eyes.
"I'll go with you to help find the assassin."
"You will?"
Heero sighed. "How many times do I have to say that? You need my help. I'm the best help you can get."
Dorothy studied him skeptically. After a moment or two of staring at each other, she announced triumphantly, "You do still care for Miss Relena!"
Heero released her shoulder and turned around. "I'm not doing it for her," he murmured.
Dorothy tilted her head and scrunched her eyebrows together in an attempt to hear what he said. "What?"
"Nothing. When are we leaving?"