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"Deep Cover"Written By: Karen The Huntress Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its
characters Rating: R Warnings: language, angst, suspense, lemon Pairings: 1x2, 2x1 Summary: Any way you look at it a whole lotta
shit can happen in four months. Hair trigger hazards of a covert solo
mission and danger zooms into the red zone. "Deep Cover"
Part Three
~Scorpion Sting~
Clad head to toe in body-hugging black. Encased in bulletproof vests. A dozen Preventer agents prepare to raid the secluded warehouse serving as the Red Dragon base of operations.
Combat Master assault rifles, plus their preference of pistols holstered on hips, the SWAT team crouches together for a final sortie assessment.
Lieutenant McNeil peers through night vision binoculars. "Five guards."
Chang Wufei studies amber images focused in the crosshairs of his sniper scope. "Roger that." confirms the count.
Luckily the pre-Colony concrete block structure is safeguarded by an antiquated alarm system. It also lacks proper security lighting. Dust-encrusted windows assures an undetected approach.
In the team's favor guards display apathetic boredom in both slothful posture and sloppy handling of weapons.
One Asian wearing a grungy Alliance uniform jacket leans his modified shotgun against the pitted concrete wall. He fishes out a cigarette, lights up and inhales deeply. Blue smoke drifts from flared nostrils.
Rifle dangling from his shoulder, another compatriot huddles under a rusted tin overhang to evade chilly fog whipped by wind. The three remaining men of the blasé quintet engage in conversation accented with vague gestures.
Wufei pauses in his remote observation. "If those inattentive sentinels are the only line of defense I should pick them off from here."
Duo regards the suggested course of action, "Can't get information from dead men." he reasons logically.
Always pragmatic, Wufei reevaluates. "A stealthy line of attack is more prudent."
Captain Chang cautions, "Yuy is most likely inside so don't fire unless you're certain of the target. Questions?"
Nods of "no" verify all directives are understood.
"Move out!"
****** ~Strike Force~
Held in place by rifle barrels rammed into the base of their skulls, four disarmed guards kneel, fingers laced behind their heads. The fifth man, who took obstinate exception to Duo's order to copy the same submissive position, is sprawled semi-conscious on the stony ground.
Weapons confiscated. Hands cuffed behind their backs. Subdued sentries are easily watched by a single Preventer. Just as resolute, eleven agents prepare to bust down a tarnished metal door, the last barrier to successful mission completion.
Tenacious invaders utilize the element of surprise to their full advantage.
Faulty florescent tubing, pulsing like mantic strobe lights, lend surreal aspects as if the battle scene is played out across an archaic movie's grainy, age-flecked celluloid.
Red dots from laser scopes dance over silhouettes. Indistinct images dive for cover or scurry for the nearest exit. Authoritative shouts to halt reverberate. Warning shots ricochet. Discordant clamor disintegrates into fragments of sounds.
In the pandemonium spectral shapes makes it difficult to discern friend from foe. Muzzle flashes intensify the disorientation. Add the probability Heero Yuy may be entrenched in the chaos and each shot has to be damn sure.
Duo crouches in a gloomy corner, struggles to isolate his partner from the blurred confusion of bodies in motion. "Heero. Where are you?"
Without warning a distinct profile materializes from the shadows. Duo sucks in a breath. Even in the diffused light a steely glare eliminates all doubts.
"Heero." Duo whispers, as if his lover might vanish like mist evaporated by the sun.
A glint of silver redirects his focus. Familiar contours of an OZ standard issue M66 automatic floats in blanched smoke. A millisecond more. The phantasmic gunman takes aim at the infiltrator whose rogue status has been compromised.
A myriad of horrid scenarios skitters across Duo's mind.
The last lethal vision bathes Duo in cold sweat. Threatens to halt heartbeats. "Dammit." is growled viciously before, just like piloting Deathscythe, reactions are automatic.
No time to think or gauge range or compute velocity.
Center aim. Squeeze the trigger. Grant the Grim Reaper free rein to ferry the target 'cross the River Styx.
****** ~Conclusion~
Glock at the ready, Lone Wolf snakes through the warehouse along a labyrinth of crates and cartons. Defective fluorescent tubing, flickering like heat lightning, creates an eerie ambiance.
Secured in his pocket, a super flash drive preserves every fraudulent transaction, embezzled credit and rerouted shipment. This data, corroborated by his eye witness testimony, will provide irrefutable evidence to render swift judgment against Akira Komura, Yohji Hidaka and topple the vile Red Dragon network.
Heero slinks around stacks of metal boxes containing high caliber rifle ammunition. A glance at his watch confirms the strike forces' imminent arrival.
Tempted to let his guard down, "Five minutes." is proclaimed with relief that the horrific nightmare is almost over.
Without warning the black clad squad storms in. All hell breaks loose. Shouts and deafening blasts assault Heero's ears. Muzzle flashes cause spots to dance before his eyes.
Yet, amidst the sensory overload, a subtle tug at the edge of his senses redirects attention.
Across the twilight space a vague silhouette defies identification.
Another step.
"Duo?"
Heero stares into the gloom to exhume tangible features from allusive apparitions. Awareness compromised, he fails to notice a glint of silver.
BANG!
The explosive discharge slithers through every nerve ending. Anticipation. Searing pain or terminal darkness. When, with a thud, Yohji Hidaka lands in a boneless heap at his feet, Heero recoils with such force he shudders uncontrollably.
****** ~Reunion~
In an instant of absolute clarity cobalt orbs link with violet centers of sight. Raw magnetism, positive and negative, compels Heero and Duo to move among the mayhem, each step progressing in slow motion.
Closer.
Twin heartbeats pulsate in precise synchronization. Adrenaline generates kinetic energy that arcs like lightening between storm clouds.
Closer.
Duo resists the overwhelming urge to pull his lover into a protective embrace. To crush his lips with a kiss designed to enkindle flames that will take all night to extinguish.
Now standing face to face all Duo can do is gaze into bloodshot eyes, underscored with dark circles, for any sign a similar fire is ablaze below the surface.
Finally, giving himself permission to breathe, Duo sighs, "Hey." |
