June 1999
Standard disclaimers apply.
*tease-tease-tease* *grin*
The whirring of the printer filled the silence of the make-shift Operations Room. Two anxious pairs of eyes followed the slow exit of the perforated sheet of computer printout, knowing, dreading but resigned.
Duo pulled the paper out as the printer clicked, signalling the end of the printout. He read the instructions in silence, breathing even and unaffected.
"Whose -"
"Mine," Duo cut in abruptly, answering Quatre's barely articulated query.
"It's too soon." Quatre's voice was soft, the disbelief echoing his simple words. It had only been three days! Just three days -- and they were sending off more mission itineraries. They'd barely had time to regain what control they'd sacrificed at the last massacre, barely had time to forget that one of them was lost...
"Time and tide, Quatre," Duo sighed. "Time and tide." He read the printout again, committing pertinent details to memory even as he mentally mapped out his next course of action. Crumpling the single piece of paper, he dropped it into a convenient brazier, watching the embers make short work of the printout. The smell of slowly burning paper mingled with the aromatic scent of the pieces of tree bark the Manganacs burnt to keep away the sandflies. He watched as the paper disintegrated slowly, joined in quiet vigil by the blonde arabian pilot of the Gundam Sandrock.
"Do you need a partner?" Quatre asked, shrugging his shoulders as he stuck his hands into his pockets. Mission details varied. All this while, the ones he'd received from *his* contacts involved multiple operatives. He supposed it was because he had the proper resources at his disposal. The scientists -- whom he suspected were behind all this -- were resourceful, if not considerate.
Duo grinned back at him, the veritable image of teenage confidence. "No, it's a solo job. I won't even need Shinigami." Duo turned away from the brazier, concentrating once more on the computer console. Tapping at the keyboard with practiced strokes, his fingers spelt out the queries he needed. A few seconds passed before the recalled information appeared on the screen, and when it did, Duo let out a breath he didn't realise he'd held. It wasn't going to be easy but it wouldn't be the hardest mission he'd ever been on either.
"Target specifics?" Quatre asked, genuinely interested once he read some of the information scrolling down the screen. "This --this is an assasination!" Quatre blinked disbelievingly at Duo. "You're going to *kill* him?"
Duo shrugged. "It's what I do best -- or at least what Dr. G *thinks* I do best. We know better, don't we?" he smirked, waggling his eyebrows at Quatre. The blonde just continued staring at him, his head shaking almost imperceptibly. "Hey! Why're you so shocked? Haven't you ever killed someone before?" Duo asked.
"No. Never." Quatre dropped his gaze from scrutinizing Duo's bemused face. He'd tried to search the other boy's face for signs --however slight-- of how he could kill someone in cold blood. It wasn't possible that Duo -- cheerful, noisy, *crazy* Duo -- could do *that*. Surely, *no one* could do *that*...
"Not one-on-one, you mean," Duo corrected him so softly, he almost went unheard. "Don't worry, Quatre. Count yourself lucky you never had to." Quatre didn't reply so Duo continued with his research. Targets were often slippery, and he needed as much information as possible to ensure a successful mission. There would seldom be a second chance with this particular type of assignment, and he prided himself on carrying out very, very successful assasinations.
"How do you do it?"
"Hmm?" Duo threw a quick sideways glance at the blonde pilot before concentrating once more on the screen. "Just point the gun and squeeze the trigger, man. Oh yeah," Duo grinned as the screen display shifted, showing him pictures and building layouts. "Yes!" Duo crowed, pumping one arm victoriously.
The screen showed pictures of a blonde man with shaggy hair. His eyes were narrow slits of blue, intelligent and predatory. Even as a two-dimensional image, the man's features reflected a certain coldness that probably rivalled Alaska's darkest winters. A thin, narrow nose spoiled the almost perfect symmetry of his face.
"Mikhail Krokopovitch," Duo read. "Art dealer extraodinaire, specialising in paintings and sculptures of Old Earth. Owns several galleries in key cities and main colony satellites, rakes in millions every year from sales and auctions. Married to a local debutante, with three children; one attending the Royal Military College, the other two still in Grade School. All girls. Recently dropped out from the active buyers' circle, concentrating more on private acquisitions -- supplying specific customers on request. Hmm..." Duo paused, rubbing his chin. Why did they want him to off an art dealer? There had to be more to this...
"After knowing all this, you'd still be able to kill him?" Duo jerked, surprised by Quatre's sudden question.
"Does it matter?" Duo wondered. Quatre seemed intent on pursuing this particular track, and truth be told, Duo was beginning to feel a mite uncomfortable. "Listen friend, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, okay? Don't judge me for it, capeesh?"
"I'm not judging, Duo. I just -- How do you live with yourself? Knowing that you're going to kill someone -- a father! With three children!"
Duo swallowed but his mouth was dry. "Q, this is hard enough to do, okay? Don't lay more guilt on it."
*On me.*
He turned to the blonde who was still staring at him with eyes that tried to understand, but couldn't. "Please?"
Quatre continued staring at Duo, until the longhaired boy began to fidget. It was horrible, knowing that his *friend* was capable of doing something that he himself abhorred. Quatre blanched, feeling his face twisting in distaste. That went against every basic belief he'd ever held, ever been taught. And it was even more horrifying realising that Duo probably knew -- really knew -- what he was doing, even more than he let on.
"How many, Duo?" Quatre heard himself ask.
The violet eyes stayed glued to the screen, but their owner answered him just the same. "I don't remember -- lost count."
"That many?!" Quatre sputtered. *Impossible!*
Duo pushed himself away from the console, the chair he sat upon sliding backwards with a sickening squeak as the metal legs scraped against the wooden flooring. There'd be scratches there later, Duo mused, but they'd just be a few of many. He swivelled himself to fully face the blonde boy, who was still standing and leaning against the edge of the console, propped by two very tense arms. Duo scratched his head absently before letting his shoulders slump tiredly. He peered at Quatre, who looked back at him, eyes screaming for answers.
"Not that many, Quatre. Just...I just forget about them, you know? After they're gone, I just...forget. Poof. Gone. Nada," he gestured, hands whirling wildly. "Do you understand, Q?" he asked.
A brief flicker of dawning understanding sparked in the aquamarine orbs, bringing a quirky smile to Duo's lips. Quatre sighed, then hung his head dejectedly. "I'm sorry," he muttered, voice muffled. "I'm sorry."
"Hey!" Duo clapped Quatre on the back, voice booming cheerily. "No harm done, man. Forget it!" he grinned, sparing one last glance at the blonde before turning back to the computer console.
From under his fringe, Quatre threw a sidelong glance at Duo, watching that boy's profile as he avidly read from the screen, muttering and occasionally, cursing to himself. Could he ever do what Duo had done? Could he ever have enough courage to go through what his friend did and still maintain his sanity? Quatre shut his eyes, but what he could not see flashed vividly in his mind -- visions of blood and death. Destruction.
Wreaked by his own hand.
*Almighty God in Heaven, grant me strength.*
"Hey, Quatre? You okay?" Duo's concerned voice cut through the visions, clearing the red haze and the foggy curtain of phantom pain.
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." His voice was shaky, Quatre knew. And his knees felt shaky too. Something nudged at the back of his legs and belatedly, Quatre realised that Duo had drawn up another chair. Quatre sat with a grateful moan.
"Hey buddy, stay with me, okay? Can't take you on the job, but maybe you can help me plan out some strategies, ne?" Duo's voice cajoled softly, bringing Quatre back to the here-and-now.
"Yes," Quatre responded, nodding automatically. "I'd like that."
End Part Three
Shirin
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