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"Alternative Directions: Options "Written By: Karina Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely
boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me.
I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you. Rating: Deffinately PG in Australia, at the moment,
but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international
ratings Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does
not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam
Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've
tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. A bit
of language creeping in under stressful conditions. Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H,6x9, 1+R
Summary: Directions is set post Endless Waltz
and roughly 2 years have passed. Zechs and Noin are on Mars and Duo,
after spending some time with Hilde in a relationship leaves L2 to
join Preventers. Hilde was not happy about his decision. I guess enough
said. Here t'is, and I hope you like it. This is also AU for the standard
setting, as well as the series and Endless Waltz. Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz Many thanks to Dulin for volunteering to beta this. //... // thoughts
"Alternative Directions: Options"
2nd March AC 198 Colony L1 - 0025 B [Lagrange point 1. Serial number 0025 B ] Preventer Building Time: 06:05 [approx Sanc time 04:55] Trowa * “When your life is on the line there is no time for thought, only action. When you are in ‘the groove’ time has no meaning and the world around you slows down. That is how you tell a professional, boy, by how fast he is when that moment comes. That is when you know if you have what it takes to survive. You should also remember, fast as you are, there is always someone who is faster. Always. In this line of work it’s just a matter of time until you meet him.” * There was no time for thought only action. His arm flashed up and his eyes centered on his target, narrowing his focus, excluding all from his awareness other than the target and himself. Kill or be killed, there was no misunderstanding between them. His wrist snapped back and then forward in a smooth cast. He felt the knife leave his fingers but saw only the burning eyes of the stranger. Remotely he was aware of the rocket launcher rising but it was reflex only for the weapon to threaten him. In the race between the knife and the high tech missile the truth could not be avoided. There would be no time for this man to fire if he intended to preserve his own life. Those cold, hard eyes told Trowa all he needed to know about the killer. The man was a professional. It was not going to be a quick confrontation. The knife left his fingers and those cold eyes had already calculated the time, the distance and the chances of death. His target was moving, throwing himself to one side, aware the knife was aimed at his throat and there was no intention to wound and question. Professionals could recognize the intent easily enough and Trowa already knew it was kill or be killed. This particular Preventer was not of the ask questions first school. He was not able to escape the weapon though he was able to throw himself clear of the killing blow. Instead of taking the assassin in the throat the desperate lunge saw the knife imbed itself deep in his upper left shoulder. He released the rocket launcher and tucked and rolled in a smooth flowing movement designed to get himself closer to the oncoming younger man. //I am in deep shit!// Trowa recognized his danger immediately and threw himself over the rolling man and into a dive, aware he faced trouble with a capital T. Had the killer sought to avoid the oncoming knife he would have recognized a skilled adversary but the man took the hit without so much as a grunt to acknowledge the wound. What was more alarming was the cold determination in those burning eyes and the immediate forward thrust to place himself in an advantageous position. There was no intent to avoid conflict, just determination to remove the obstacle to his mission with all speed. The pain of the wound was inconsequential to the mission at hand and freed from the rocket launchers bulk he came back up to his feet and danced two neat quick steps away from the edge of the building and his discarded equipment. With a knife falling so easily into his hand he came on at Trowa, a slow grin stretching his thin lips. //Professional knife man.// The thought rocked Trowa but he refused to allow it to show and back flipped to give himself a few seconds respite from the silent killer. There was a semi automatic pistol tucked into the belt of his target but the man had gone straight for the knife and was oncoming quickly, the blade held low and unerringly matching his every move. Trowa did not need to trace the angle of that point to know it was aimed in a straight line to his heart. This man was out for the kill. //He wants no witnesses and he wants a silent kill.// He would not have discounted the chance to make that shot with the rocket launcher and complete his mission. There was no claxon alarm sounding to alert the Preventers to the drama being played out in the compound. Should he succeed in taking down Trowa silently and quickly there was little doubt he would fire on the adjacent building. Determined such a scenario would not play out, Trowa backed up as quickly as the killer advanced, knowing if he permitted the man to get close enough for melee he would chance losing. He was outweighed by his assailant though not outreached, but should the shorter stockier man close on him his reach would be of little advantage should his guard be penetrated. Every move the killer made was flowing and precise, a dance of death and the mark of a man trained to perfection. Only good fortune and that horror of a dream had revealed his presence here and given Trowa the chance to save lives. It was a chance he was determined not to waste. * “Know your target. Watch them. Never take your eyes off them and if you can, always watch their eyes. Don’t for an instant think a professional will look at the point he intends to go for, for longer than a second. They are always aware they may be facing someone with just as much skill or more. Place yourself in their position and anticipate. Don’t give clues away if you intend to survive.” * The killers lips drew back in a silent snarl as he realized the younger man would not make the mistake of closing with him. A feint and he slipped sideways a half a step to effectively close off Trowa’s retreat, forcing him to back toward the edge of the building. The Preventer would be forced to decide between a swan dive into oblivion or fight in melee for his life. Trowa realized that the man wanted that knife to knife confrontation, and in anticipation of a death match the man’s elbows shifted, the blade of the knife angling down a degree and his left hand raised. Trowa bared his teeth in a silent snarl and considered his options. When and how had he lost the advantage here? One moment he was in charge of the situation and the next he was facing a knife fight to the death. This killer was not going to settle for incapacitation or frightening off the opposition. This was a killer bound and determined to complete his mission successfully and he looked to have every confidence in his abilities. * “You have to think on your feet. You have to anticipate. You have to be aware of everything around you and how you can use it to your own advantage. Everything around you is a potential weapon or has the potential to keep you alive a few seconds longer. You just need to recognize that potential.” * //You’re not the only one capable of springing back from potential disaster. I’m not willing to lay down my life so you can kill others, you bastard. Quatre is waiting for me and I have every intention of heading home.// He danced, too aware of the edge of the building only a step or two behind him. The man was feinting and working himself into a position to force him to come into melee or take those fatal two steps and plunge over the edge. Heights did not bother him, and that was not his concern. There was enough room at the moment for him to avoid a close quarters confrontation for another precious few seconds while he figured out how to raise the alarm. If he could raise the alarm it would not only alert Preventers but give the killer something to worry about. Time. If the man had only minutes to effect his kill he might make a mistake and in that second he would be doomed. Any advantage, no matter how minute, would be enough to tip the scales. Cathy had taught him the skill to throw knives with deadly accuracy but she had not been a knife fighter. He had been taught how to knife fight in his mercenary days but he was at best only competent when in melee with the blades and competent was far below the level of this killer. His stance and the confidence in his eyes screamed his level of expertise and Trowa was not going to be a fool and choose to melee with someone so above his skill. //If I can gain some distance I might have the chance
to throw the knife in my belt. He’s bleeding and that means he
will be slowly weakening. Time is a factor too and he has to * “Know what you need to do in the order you need to accomplish it. It’s no use killing an enemy if the enemy succeeds in his mission before you kill him. Get your priorities right. Just surviving is not enough.” * The first order of business was clear enough. He had to get some much needed distance between the two of them and gain some room to move. He had been forced back little by little until there was less than a full stride to the edge and a plunge to the street below. Too close to the danger point and time was running out. The advantage lay with his assailant but he had skills the killer did not know and could not anticipate. Heights had never bothered him and his circus trained dexterity would be the salvation of him. //You might be a killer and you might be good at your job but don’t class me in your league. Everyone eventually meets someone who is better than they are but that does not mean you will win. More than weapon skill and weight will account the victor in this.// Confident in his own abilities Trowa threw a quick glance
about him, aware the killer would note it and unconcerned. He was
a cornered animal, was he not? And therefore it would be expected
he would make a desperate move. He noted the possibility of a quick
escape if he rolled to the right and the killer tensed, aware the
moment had come for him to act. The man was placed ready to take him
whichever way he moved and Trowa took a half step back, his heel just
touching the low wall screening the edge of the roof and he crouched
a //Come at me and try to startle me into tipping over the edge.// The silent invitation was accompanied by a feral grin. “I don’t think so, little pest. No witnesses allowed.” //He can be talkative? That might give me an advantage. Come on, come at me.// It only proved his assessment the killer was a professional and not so easily fooled. There was no rush at him but he did note the slight inclination of the man’s body anticipating a move to the right. Though it was not what he had hoped for it would have to be enough. A degree more bend in his legs, the faintest shuffle of his left foot and turn of his right toe, the telltale flicker in the man’s eyes and he had to take the chance. It was the best opportunity he would get. Trowa projected the force of his desperation into his knees and sprang. The knifeman swayed but caught himself from making a fatal extension to the right as Trowa leapt up and back, onto the lip of the low wall behind him. His toes touched the lip and focusing every ounce of skill learned in the circus his knees bent to absorb the force of the landing and he launched himself into a leap. Gaining height and distance over the head of the knifeman who seemed to be moving in slow motion, he spun in a tightly controlled form to avoid the slashing knife. He leapt to the left of the knifeman, clearing the danger by scant inches as his opponent was quick to recover, coming down into a roll to increase his hard won distance. Rolling twice he flipped to his feet in a fluid motion and slid behind the welcome cover offered by the air conditioning unit. An inarticulate snarl sounded behind him and he resisted the urge to grin as he slipped over a pipe and caught his bare toes in the thick wire cage surrounding the motor unit of the massive air conditioner. He hastily hauled himself up the side of the unit, ignoring the pain in his toes and fingers in favour of taking the high ground. He was determined not to lose the ground he had gained by his daring. //Better.// He pressed himself to the wire wall of the cage, taking a few seconds to regain his breath and steady his heartbeat. //Now where are you and what am I going to do about you? I need to attract some attention.// His assailant would not have remained in plain sight on the roof and exposed himself needlessly to danger. Nor would there be the chance to pull off a maneuver like this again. He would not be underestimated a second time and it was only the element of surprise which had given him this chance and he would not waste it. Warned now to the flexibility and daring of his opponent, those factors would be accounted for in their next confrontation and he might as well forget trying to pull off extreme actions. Something infinitely simpler would probably work better. His priorities needed sorting and he had only seconds of relative safety to decide on what he might best do to bring the standoff to a satisfactory conclusion. //I need to raise the alarm. Get other people involved in this.// Easier thought than actually accomplished and he considered his options which at the moment seemed very limited. To attract the attention of his fellow Preventers he needed to make a noise or use some visual medium. He could not hope someone in the buildings flanking the accommodation block would chance to look out of a window and see something Suspicious … such as someone clinging to the side of the air conditioner unit or aiming a rocket launcher at a nearby building. If he had thought to pick up his mobile he might have gained sufficient time to call in a warning but hindsight was never useful. In the distance he could hear the rumble of a commuter train but there was little else at this hour of the day so sound would travel fairly well. It was likely to be his best chance of attracting attention, however merely shouting was not likely to attract anyone, and if it did, they would walk unknowing into more trouble than they would expect. Something louder and indicative of danger would be required. He would have seconds in which to act and that discounted jumping up and down and shouting. A quick survey of the roof area visible to him from his perch failed to reveal the killer and he scowled. He might have succeeded in escaping from the knifeman but for how long? He dared not delay too long or the man might take the chance to make that delayed shot and carry out his mission. It was more likely he was now being hunted but he could not give the advantage back to his enemy. Taking no action was doing exactly that and he could not afford to waste this chance. * “A missed chance is of no accord in the scheme of things. A missed chance means failure. A missed chance means death to someone, be it on your side or innocents in the conflict. A missed chance means the enemy wins.” * Beneath his stretched out body the air conditioner vibrated and provided him with a host of possibilities for attracting attention. Briefly he considered damaging the unit which would certainly be noted by the automatic monitoring sensors. He sighed and discounted the possibility. One man, a maintenance worker, would be sent to investigate and that man would walk into more than he would expect. The odds were the man would die and the bulk of the Preventers would remain ignorant of the danger. //Well, I could always fire off the rocket launcher. That would attract attention.// He shook his head and sighed. Even if he could gain the weapon firing it within the sealed environment of the colony would cause more damage than he was personally willing to perpetrate. The sealed life support system of the colony was a finely balanced complexity of science. Firing the weapon would cause a fire which could cause catastrophic failure in delicate life support systems, clogging the air scrubbers and putting toxins in the immediate area. Shooting off the rocket into the air would result only in hitting someone or something on the opposite curve of the wheel and might even perpetrate sufficient damage to cause a hull breach. //Lovely. I don’t think so.// Should he gain access to the weapon and shoot straight down at the ground he would avoid people and the building only to guarantee breaching the colony’s hull. Shooting horizontally was not an option as it would blow up one of the buildings flanking the Preventer complex. Every option would produce exactly what he was trying to avoid and all of the possible targets polluted the air. Certainly no help there. Colonies were just too delicately balanced to have this type of weapon loose within them. //Come on. Think. There has to be something you can do.// His attention shifted to the area where he knew the rocket launcher would be lying on the ground but he could not see it from this angle. He doubted the killer would be fool enough to go back for it without removing his opposition. He would wish to complete the mission and while it was only a matter of seconds to make the shot he had to relocate his exact target. Making that shot with someone out for your blood was not the best scenario. The hitman was more likely to have gone to ground where he could keep a watch on his equipment and hoping Trowa would make a try for the weapon. He would be an easy target for the semi automatic if he tried that. The killer would have more than enough time to fire off the big weapon and take out his intended target and escape before other Preventers could react. The clock was ticking and he was going to have to make a decision soon. //Pitching it over the side of the building would be guaranteed to get some attention. Whoever found it would be alerted to trouble but the landing might set the damn thing off. To have a hope of getting it I would have to be fast and I simply would not have time to disarm the weapon. If the trigger was jarred on impact … I hate this. // Time was up. He had been too long in one place and it was time to move. He dropped from the unit, unwilling to alert his stalker by the rattling of the cage and slipped around the bulk of the unit. Pausing, he listened for any sound that might suggest the location of the man stalking him. Beyond the rhythm of the air conditioner he could hear only silence, even the train was silent marking its location as being within one of the stations. It would be a minute or two before it moved on and it was possible his target was laying low waiting for the train to move to cover any betraying movements he might make. //I can’t let this go on much longer.// With every passing minute more people would be entering the target building to begin their working day. He needed to stop the hit before this delay increased the death toll if the worst should happen. He would need to throw this killer a bone soon or the man might just take the chance to reach his equipment. He would not try to get a shot in with the rocket launcher but he would be inclined to grab his gear and make himself scarce, possibly even settle on a covered position to make the shot. He heard the train begin to move and taking the chance
delicately hauled himself up the side of the unit, taking advantage
of a nest of pipes and ignoring the wire mesh for His greater height and the wider angle afforded him a view of the rocket launcher lying where it had been abandoned and a little way beyond it the bag. It seemed to beckon to him, tempting him to come for it. If he could just pitch the weapon over the side of the building and be assured it would not detonate on impact through some warped sense of humour fate might be entertaining. //Nope. Not even going to consider it. He’s too much a professional for me to make even one mistake.// * “Know your resources. Know exactly what you have on you at all times because you never know what may be of use. Don’t discount anything as being useless because even dust bunnies have their uses. Equally as important is to know the resources of your enemy and never underestimate them. If you can find a use for something so can they.” * //So what are my resources? A knife, the clothes I’m wearing, my belt and my wits. There maybe a dust bunny or lint ball in my pockets, but nothing else. Charming. What does he have to call on? There is at least one knife and more likely two if not three. I know he has a semi automatic and there is the rocket launcher though he does not have it at the moment. There may be more in his bag but he has to expose his location to reach either of those last two. He’s showing considerable patience in remaining hidden and other than that one outburst he’s maintained his silence. Not the talkative type or prone to try talking to provoke a confrontation. He won’t give away his location easily.// His present position offered a commanding view of the bulk of the roof top but there was a great deal of heavy machinery for the air conditioning and elevator system to offer adequate hiding places. The man could be crouched in any one of a dozen places patiently waiting to glimpse his position and take him out with the gun. That automatic was a big advantage for the killer and even though he was a knife man Trowa knew there would be a bullet with his name on it should he give the man a chance to target him. * “Sometimes in a standoff you have to make the first move. There may be a dozen reasons for you to exercise patience and usually that is the better way but there will eventually come a situation when waiting is not an option. Know when to recognize it and how to use it to your advantage. In other words, if you have to move don't get bloody shot.” * The hit man appeared to be on no set time schedule as he was exercising every indication of infinite patience. Trowa presumed that meant he was not averse to taking out twice the number of Preventers this delay would expose to the original hit. There had been no indication as yet of the killer working his way toward the elevator shaft or the stairs in a bid to leave the roof. It suggested he was intent on making the hit despite his discovery and Trowa’s presence was considered to be a mere inconvenience. //He can’t be after an individual if he’s not fussed about a time schedule. It has to be information he is out to destroy and that dream suggests it has something to do with that kid. Washington? I hope he has something on him I can use to trace him when I take him down.// This kind of patience was not common in a hit situation. Trowa had done his fair share of assassinations in his past and he knew there was usually a window of opportunity that needed to be exploited but that generally applied to hits on people, not on information gathered from a dead body. Undoubtedly there would be an autopsy underway at this time and it would take a few hours to correlate all the data gained. He was not inclined to wait on the roof while information was gathered and hope the killer would decide to quietly get up and leave. It would be more likely the man, if he managed to escape, would take down the entire building to be assured of removing the information from computer systems and hardcopy files. //I’m going to have to force the issue.// He was not keen on the idea of exposing himself to the killer as the smallest mistake would end his chances of saving lives. He stirred, rising to his knees and peered out over the roof. No sign of blood spots though he had expected that. A professional would quickly tend to his wound to slow down blood loss and ensure he left no trail. No tracks from passing through water other than his own and he cursed silently as his foot slipped on the surface beneath him. Lowering himself carefully he edged across the elevator housing roof, trying to avoid slipping in the oily sludge pooled on the housing. He scowled at the perfect hand print and the imprints of his toes where he had been forced to crawl through the deposit before a slow smirk twisted his lips. A cautious glance about him to ensure he had no company and he dipped a finger in the sludge. It would take a month or two of nightly deluges to remove years of built up grime and he chuckled softly as he smeared the residue between his fingers. Using his knife he sliced off the lower leg of his pants curled in as tight a ball to present as small a target as possible. His long ago instructor from the mercenaries had been so right. Everything about you had the potential to be useful in one way or another. He needed just a few minutes to prepare and then all he would need to do would be to keep the man busy until help arrived. The point of a knife was not the greatest nib to write with but then he did not need to wax eloquent. Short and to the point was all he needed to be. Assassin. Roof. Missile. Chameleon. It was enough to alert Preventers to the danger that lurked and he would not be able to throw it far from the accommodations building so there would be little doubt as to where it came from. Nor was it a large piece of material so he needed to be terse. He cut a spiraling strip of material from his other pants leg long enough to act as a binding and looked around for something he could use to weight his message. A silent curse on realising there was little to accommodate his needs and nothing on the elevator shaft housing itself. He was going to need to leave his safe perch to find a weight and just looking around told him clearly enough there was little that was not firmly anchored to the roof. He edged toward the rear of the housing hoping to find something there that might accommodate his need and nodded slightly. //Perfect.// He was facing the housing for the stairwell and he could see the door still propped open by his shoes. He considered his make shift message for a moment, pleased to note despite the crudity of the materials used the message remained clear as it dried. The contaminants from the machinery housing looked to make a fair ink in this emergency and assured the message would not disappear or smudge beyond reading he folded the note carefully and placed it and the binding into his pocket. Someone had to notice a rag tied bundle and investigate where they might ignore an empty shoe. Glancing up and about him he drew a deep breath. Still no sight of the killer and no sound to suggest his location. The rocket launcher was still in place as was the bag. He was being hunted. He could feel it and he had remained here too long. It would need to be a quick sprint for the shoe and then a quicker sprint for cover and the chance to prepare his message for flight. //Here goes nothing.// t.b.c.
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