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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"
Chapter 169 2nd March AC 198 Colony L1 - 0025 B [La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B ] Preventer Building Time: 06:12 [approx Sanc time 05:02] Trowa * “If you have to wait or review a situation under fire you need to make certain you are not in an exposed position. Always take the best cover available and always leave yourself a back door. If it is the best cover but does not have a back door through which you can escape then it is not the best cover. Never presume your position is safe and never overstay your welcome. The more skilled you know your opponent to be the less time you remain in one place.” * Trowa eased himself to the edge of the elevator housing and peered cautiously about him. The voice whispering in his mind continued to offer cautions and advice. Leftover memories from his early days with the mercenaries had enabled him to survive to a time where he could look forward to something more than endless fighting and killing. He wanted this promising future he could not have foreseen being his to come to fruition. He wanted Quatre and a life beyond fighting to survive. The mercenary, cold and efficient and always alone now desired more than the prospect of dying on the battlefield. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising and knew it a warning he had stayed too long in one place. He had seen enough of this killer to know he was a professional and he would be skilled in the art of the silent stalk. If he stayed in this position he would be trapped. He knew his own skill level and considered himself to be well above the average assassin but he was not such a fool as to think himself the best of the best. The level of skill separating hunter and prey here this day was wide and favoured the hunter, not the prey. He was definitely not the hunter. //I can’t stay here much longer. I don’t dare give him that kind of advantage. I need to reach the stairwell without attracting his attention but as soon as I move I will be a target. He is close, I can feel him, so the best I can do is give myself as much time to reach my goal as possible. The very best I could hope for is to maybe gain five seconds and keep ahead of his aim. To use the gun would be to attract attention but there is no guarantee he does not have a silencer. If he does… Quatre, I so wish I was with you.// Wasting time again and handing the advantage to his opponent. Acting without thinking was a mistake but so was over thinking the issue and Quatre was not a part of this dilemma he found himself in. Quatre was a desired goal, a safe zone and to reach him he had to survive this encounter. Time was against him, and while he did not know if the hunter had a set time in which to accomplish his mission, the longer he kept the man occupied the better. He could get help, all he needed to do was succeed at reaching the stairwell and then get to safe cover. Alone he would have difficulty taking down this man but with skilled aid from his fellow Preventers his chances rose dramatically. He slipped over the edge, keeping close to the elevator housing and into the shadows cast by the early morning lighting. In another few minutes he would lose the advantage of the shadows as the night screens were now being withdrawn and natural sunlight was beginning to flood the colony. The ultraviolet filters screening the colony would be the only barrier between the colonies inhabitants and the streaming ultraviolet radiation from the naked sun. Constructing and maintaining the needs of the colony was too expensive for the designers not to make use of the natural light given off by the sun when it was available. In the early days the colonies had been sealed units illuminated within by man-made lighting set to emulate the various phases of the day and night. It had been something of a medical mystery as to why the citizens of the colony had begun to suffer from a wide variety of skin complaints and as time wore on diseases had become too common. Intensive investigation had revealed the bulk of the disorders had their root cause in the lack of natural sunlight. To allay this problem designers and engineers had turned to the medical profession to determine what missing vital elements could be artificially introduced to the colonies. This had led to the introduction into the colonies water supply of a cocktail of drugs and supplements which had improved the overall health of the citizens. Improved but not eradicated the problems. The human body absorbed vital base elements from the filtered sunlight found on Earth. Eventually a screen system designed to cycle around the colonies had been devised and the wealthier colonies had been quick to procure its use. The complex system of screens erected to orbit the colony and permanently face the sun shielded the colony from the harsh radiation, particularly high exposure to ultraviolet light. The screens acted in much the same manner as the Van Allen Belt surrounding the Earth and the varied layers of the atmosphere. The use of the screen system not only had produced a more natural day and night cycle but filtered in helpful amounts of radiation the human body was more accustomed to in its natural environment and thus the health of the colonists had improved. An added bonus to the colonies’ administration was the substantial reduction in cost required to heat and light the massive orbital structures so many people were now calling home. The screens were programmed to move on a set rotation to give the colony a natural day and night with the automated lighting controls maintaining a pre-set level of illumination dependant on the time of day. Because of the vital nature of the screens and the all important filters, the system was checked hourly in a never ending rotation to ensure the safety of the colonies. In the last one hundred years the newer colonies had been designed with less of the original colonies safety shielding. The newer colonies were reliant on the radiation screens to maintain light and health in a complicated balancing act that saw the most powerful computers man had devised installed to maintain optimum performance. Trowa shuddered to think what the newer colonies like the L4 cluster and L5 would do if their systems should malfunction. Unscreened solar radiation would crisp the colonies’ population in minutes. With the morning rotation in effect the screens were now set on opening and admitting natural sunlight. As the light grew the buildings and fixtures on the roof were beginning to cast shadows. Until the screens were fully opened he would cast a long shadow and would need to adjust his course of action to try to reduce the telltale giveaway. It was a disadvantage both he and his hunter would share. While they could hide within the shadows cast by the roof fixtures and adjacent buildings their own moving shadows were going to be obvious. His killer likewise would be wise to the light levels and was too much of a professional to make so obvious a mistake as to allow his shadow to reveal his location. //The first one of us to make a mistake will be the one to die. // He was not considering incapacitating the assassin. Interrogating such an individual would undoubtedly be a waste of time and taking him captive too dangerous an option given their circumstances. In this hunt it would be kill or be killed, and he was not going to make the mistake of believing he could take the man down and expect him to answer questions. He strongly suspected if the killer thought he would be captured the man would ensure his own death. This was a silent hunt to the death and taking prisoners on either side did not feature in the equation. //I will not be the one who dies.// He had too much to live for and he was not of a mind to give up the life he envisioned stretching ahead of him in Quatre’s embrace. Life was so much more fulfilling with a partner. For as long as he could remember he had been a mercenary fighting other people’s wars and having no clear opinion of his own. That had changed after meeting the deceptively angelic looking Quatre Winner. Quatre had challenged him, made him review his own life and see what might be improved. Why did he have to fight for others and why did he not have a personal opinion on the affairs of the world? Both good questions he had not thought to ask before. Quatre had opened his eyes to the possibilities of leaving the fighting behind him and seeking more than another fight to prolong the cycle. They had met in war and known death and destruction and heartbreak. Quatre had understood it was all the life he knew and did not condemn him for it but forgave him his past and offered him a future. He had thought to avoid it at first, believing the gulf between them to be too wide for them to bridge. He did not think of Quatre as a war companion, though they had been. Even during the war there had been something more than the common bond he had found amid the mercenary companies he had been a part of. Something warm, vital and very much alive and a long way from the expectation of death. Neither had spoken of the link but he knew they both had sensed it and savoured it and desired to make it more. It was not until after the end of the war when Libra was so much floating debris and Quatre had recovered somewhat from his wound that they had dared to speak. Hesitantly at first, each afraid of rejection by the other and too tender emotionally to seek out more hurt. In each other they had found something to give them a reason to go past the horrors of the war and welcome the peace. He was not about to give that up coughing out his life on a rooftop. //Not that this is particularly peaceful. In an ideal world the war would have been the end of it and there would be no need for an organization like Preventers.// He sidled along the wall, his back pressed firmly to the welcome solidity of the small building. That was the one direction he could trust at this time. His eyes were never still, constantly moving, seeking some small indication of his hunter. //Now, do I go left or right? From here left looks to be a little more open but going right would involve climbing over the plumbing. That will slow me down if I don’t want to end up flat on my face and possibly do in an ankle or worse. There is also the chance he could be lurking in there. It has good potential to surprise an unsuspecting target. // He scrubbed a hand over his face, grinding his teeth in frustration. He dared not delay much longer. To take the left hand option would result in a shadow being cast and because it was open he would need to concentrate on speed, not stealth. //I don’t have time for this. // He was prey and trying to avoid a catastrophe and to go to ground would be to prolong the agony. If he crawled in a hole he would only give the assassin the opportunity he needed to make his shot at the target building. People would die and that was what it was all about. People’s lives. He needed to take risks and consider them acceptable risks to get the warning out to those who could help him. He would take risks but not stupid risks that would serve only to get him killed. A few quick steps were all it would take to cross relatively open ground and take the right hand course. A few quick steps and then weave his way through the maze of pipes servicing the building. Cover was a life saver but it was, in this case, the longest course. To take the left hand option, make that short run and grab the shoes then tumble into the pipes and relative safety. He was hyper aware to every sound and to the movement of air caused by the distant exhaust fans that cooled the colony. Whether it was his imagination or not, something sent him moving before he was consciously aware of movement or sound. Long legs acted as springs, giving him a leaping start toward the stairwell and he was straining every fibre of his being to run, the decision made for him by instinct. Psst. Psst. //Fuck! He’s got a silencer! // Dodge, weave, jump... anything to make targeting him difficult but keep running. If he presented as difficult a target as possible the man was likely to give up on hitting him. It was more likely he would attempt to anticipate his location within a few seconds and to avoid that he had to be random in his weaving. It was what he had been instructed to do long ago should the designated target prove to be aware. * “Anticipate where your target has to go, what he has to do to get there and make use of that information. If you know where he has to be you can work out how he is going to get there. Simple. Remember, goal, direction and patience. Wait patiently to take him down, never rush the shot.” * // I’ll outpsych you, you bastard. I have too much to live for to go down now. You know I’m heading for the stairs, that’s obvious, but you must think I’ll get the door open and escape down them. If you are thinking that and there is no reason why you shouldn’t be, then I have a chance here. I will need to somehow make you believe I’m going to try to get the door open and take the chance I can get a shoe out of the gap before you target me.// * “If you are being hunted and you have a set objective and your hunter knows what that objective is, what do you do? You do what you can with what you have, of course. You have your body, any weapons you might have and your brain. Of those three your brain is the most important. It is your defence and offence. It is your core, the key to your survival. Use it. You have one or more enemy soldiers tracking you, hard on your heels and you are near your objective. What do you do? There are too many of them for you to face down or you are not in a position to face one very well armed opponent. Whichever it is the result is the same. You are in deep shit. If you are fast on your feet you use that speed to your advantage. Go in hard and try, at the last minute, to affect some sort of surprise. If at all possible you spring a last second distraction to turn the eye away from you in the exact moment you make your move. You do whatever presents itself to give you that vital last second in which to act and get away. // Well, he was going in hot that was for sure. He was hot and with a target painted on his back and a killer targeting him from secured cover and just waiting for him to get to the obvious point. Given his goal there literally was nowhere else to go if he intended to get off the roof. His limited field of operations was his greatest disadvantage and the assassin’s best advantage. //Keep on guessing, you bastard. Estimate where I will need to be to get that door open and go through it. I’ll have to make my move soon. Another few steps…// There had been no third shot. Only two attempts to target him since he had started moving led him to believe the killer was intent on allowing him to reach the door. For a vital second he would be motionless and a prime target as he delayed to pull the door open. A second opportunity would be as he pulled back to open the door, both prime opportunities for a killing shot. The chance would exist for at most two seconds but it would be enough for the expertise of the man hunting him. For those two seconds fortune would reverse itself and he would gain advantage in the kill or be killed game. At the moment it appeared the hunter had the upper hand but knowing what his unseen stalker was planning changed the equation. Only for those two seconds would he gain the advantage then the balance would shift back. A touch more than two body lengths now separated him from the door and it was time to see just how good he was. He threw himself forward into a tumbling roll, straining for as much distance as he could manage. The killer should have seen that momentary tensing and expect him to go into the roll. If he read the man correctly he would be expected to come up out of the roll and reach to grasp the ajar door and fling it open. That would be when he would become the target. He stayed down, twisting as he came out of the roll, reaching and fingers straining to grasp a shoe protruding from the gap. Cool leather kissed his fingertips, grasping and scrabbling as he felt his grip slide. Desperation drew a grimace from him, lips drawn back in a silent snarl. He had only one try at this and he had to get the shoe. Twisting, committed from the moment of the dive to the manoeuvre regardless if he grasped the shoe or missed. //Yes! // Fingers curled around the leather upper and hooked as he heard the psst and he heard the impact of the bullet perhaps no more than an inch above his head. //Shit! // He was fast to adjust. The killer had aimed high but had delayed, making certain of his shot and seeing the roll was designed to keep him low at the last second had dropped his aim. Not enough. The success of his move went uncelebrated while he concentrated on keeping his fading advantage. He rolled sideways striving to get himself low enough to fit under the first of the pipes and place some kind of cover between them. He continued the roll until he came up against a second pipe, this one too low for him to fit beneath. Panting he employed every acrobatic trick he had learned to come up onto all fours and crawl over two of the low pipes, throw himself over a higher third and drop to the ground, rolling beneath a fifth and then around a junction. //I only need a few seconds to get my parcel ready for sending. Give me that time, you bastard. Can’t you make a mistake and give me a break? // He dragged air into his lungs, panting and pulling his long legs close to him, trying to maximize his cover. He had taken the skin off his shoulders, back and sides in this mad scramble to gain secure ground and one elbow stung. There was no time to consider what other minor injuries he carried. What was important was he was still active and he had the shoe. //You must take a few seconds at least to wonder what the hell I’m planning. You have to wonder what I wanted a shoe for. // It would have been obvious when he had stayed low he was not intending to try for the stairs. The hunter had to be dreaming up options involving shoes but hopefully he would not immediately think of the shoe as an aide to attract attention. Yes, he could throw the shoe over the building but it would have to hit someone for it to be noticed and he doubted the killer was intending to give him time to write a message. //You are too late to stop me from writing the message but I have to be quick to get this done before he thinks I have succeeded in alerting them to what is going on up here. The shoe on its own would attract attention if I could get it to land close enough to a walkway, he has to know that. He will know someone will come to investigate and they will likely not come alone. Every additional body I have up here with me lessens his chances of completing his assignment. // Now that he had the shoe and the means to deliver his warning he needed to decide which side of the building would give him the best chance of attracting notice. There were two sides to be considered, both opening onto an open area where agents should be moving around as they arrived, exchanging greeting and discussing work to be done. Two possible areas where he would have a reasonable chance of finding someone who might be of help. //The chances of someone being close enough are probably about equal for both sides so maybe the question should be which side will he watch? The roof is too long and too wide for him to watch the full length of both sides of the roof. If I pick right I can get this message away and get back under cover before he can target me. With the message gone it is only a matter of time to keep him engaged and away from the stairs. // Roof access was limited and there would be little option but to send investigators up the stairwell. It would be up to him to keep the killer occupied and thinking of other things than lying in wait to pick off the investigators as they came through the door. // Rather an amusing irony, really. I have to keep the entry clear so the rescue party can safely reach me to rescue me.// Quatre would be delighted he had not lost his sense of humour. //If he spots me throwing the shoe over the side of the building he will know he has only a limited time to effect his mission. If he spots me moving and thinks he knows what I am about he may try to reach the rocket launcher and make the shot, completing his mission. Or he may continue to try to kill me. How likely would he be to try for the rocket launcher? He knows I’ll still hunt him and he knows I can throw knives. He would at least suspect I would have one more, possibly two weapons. Knives have limited range and that would give him a set range to keep an eye on. He’s still armed with the automatic and his own knives. If he sees or hears me coming he’ll be ready for me.// Getting the shoe was the easy part of the operation. Looking around he found a cleared area amid a nest of pipes that afforded better cover than his current position and after a careful survey of his surroundings he eased himself into the cleared centre. Crouching low to afford as small a target as possible and pressing him body back into the lingering patch of shadow in this sheltered spot. Much of the roof was now free of shadow and bright under the glaring eye of the sun. It was rather like being under a particularly brilliant spotlight and the bright area was widening as the screens were shifted. Trying to regulate his breathing and steel himself for the run he was going to have to make, which ever side of the roof he chose to cast his dice to fate, he set the shoe down. Pulling out the bundle of material he separated the torn strip from the message and stuffed the ragged piece of material into the shoe. He looked about him carefully before ducking back down and wrapping the shoe and message securely with the shredded strip. Tucking and tying the strip carefully to allow for the least chance of the message falling out of the shoe mid air or on landing he leaned back and listened intently for the slightest sign of pursuit. Disturbing silence greeted him and he worried at his lower lip. He might be out there, watching for an opportunity or he might have decided it was time to stop hunting and take the final step. Time was against them both and Trowa was not inclined to sit down and try to determine who time would best advantage. //He may have decided he has sufficient time to make a try for his bag and make the shot. I can’t take the chance and linger here.// How much time had passed since he had left his room, driven by nightmares and the assurance his lover would demand he investigate? It seemed like hours since he had left the safety of his assigned quarters but it could only have been minutes. Minutes that seemed like a lifetime and would indeed result in a lifespan for someone this day. Either he or the killer he eluded would end their life up here today. Possibly others if he did not get this right. //Not me, I have too much to live for. If I have my way, not those people coming in to work either. // No more time to think, now he was required to move. A steadying breath and he oozed his way through the gap, expecting to hear the fateful psst of the silenced weapon. He might hear the sound of the shot before the bullet hit but then again, he might not. He crouched beside the knot work of pipes that had sheltered him and there was no sign or sound of his opponent. //Left or right? If I make the wrong choice it is all over. // He slipped around the pipes and through a small gap between a cage protecting delicate machinery and another pipe. Just beyond the cluster of pipes ahead of him he should have a clear view of the rocket launcher and the bag lying near it… Nothing. He was at just the wrong angle to garner a reassuring glimpse of the abandoned equipment. Brushing a hand over his bangs he considered the direction he needed to take and whether the killer had realised what he intended. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to move and he did not have to make the final decision for a few precious seconds. He might yet gain some hint of the hidden killer’s location and manage to avoid the expected shot. Around this bundle of pipes and sidle along the low cage and over that pipe and… Crunch time. There had been no sign of the killer. Neither sound nor a hint of movement to clue him in and he was not in a position to glimpse the rocket launcher either. He needed to make up his mind which way to go and a big factor in the choice was if he chose to go left he would lose any chance of glimpsing the weapon left on the roof. Straining for any hint of movement he heard the muted rumble of the commuter train fading into the distance but nothing more. Eventually he was going to need to face this killer and delaying the confrontation only worked in the killer’s favour, not his own. Before he faced the man he needed to deliver his warning and hope the recipients would understand. They needed to evacuate the building across the way and save people’s lives. //So be it. No more time to think.// He crouched, inclining toward the rear of the roof and eyed the distance he must run carefully. He could not afford to set a straight path to his goal and present an easy target. A ragged zigzagging path would be required and he must not make the fatal mistake of falling into a rhythm. If he kept moving in a random course he might throw off the shot he was almost sure would come his way. Muscles flexed, tensed in preparation and he began his run by springing into a forward flip, came down neatly and thrust himself to the left. Two lightning fast steps, a somersault to the right and up again, running and zigzagging every two or three steps. In this run the ability to be totally random was life. Go right, switch back a step, two, and right again then into a somersault. Close enough now to extend into a leap to the rim of the building. There was only time enough for a searching glance to locate any likely groups of people and toss the bundle over the edge. He could entertain the vague hope the assassin had not noticed the bundle drop from his hand. There was no time to delay to see if the small group of women he suspected might be office workers noticed the bundle as it landed. There was no time to watch the bundle fall either, just time to concentrate on putting all of his strength into a spring taking him off the low wall. He landed in a tumble and come up to his feet and dive over a pipe and behind the shelter of the cage and its machinery. Time only to scuttle like a bug looking for safety. He had no idea if he had been targeted or not. His heartbeat was thundering, drowning out all sound and sensation. His only thought was he was back under cover and he had done his best to give others warning of the killer in their midst. * “Once you have arranged a distraction or sent a message you have no time to think about what if. What becomes your first priority? You concentrate on staying alive. You can always kiss the ass of whoever comes to save your hide later or skin the bastard because they got it wrong if you somehow come out alive on your own merit. You don’t think about it. You move, you run, you hide, you fight for every breath you take and be bloody thankful you are still breathing while you do. Every second you are breathing means you are alive and surviving is what it’s all about.” * t.b.c.
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