Deep Cover Part 2
A glint of silver redirects Duo's focus. The familiar contours of an OZ standard issue P99 automatic appears to float in the blanched smoke. A millisecond more, in the same spectral manner, a phantasmic gunman emerges to take aim at the unsuspecting agent whose rogue status has clearly been compromised.
A myriad of horrid scenarios skitters across Duo's mind.
Heero's face so disfigured it no longer resembles anything human. A paralyzing bullet lodged in his spine. The last lethal vision-bone shards and globs of pulpy brain matter splattered over the wall in crimson kaleidoscope patterns-produces sturdy shudders, bathes Duo in cold sweat and threatens to buckle his knees.
"Dammit." is growled viciously before, just like piloting Deathscythe, Duo's response is automatic.
No time to think or gauge range or compute velocity.
Center the target, squeeze the trigger and grant the Grim Reaper free rein to ferry the Ozzie 'cross the River Styx.
An explosive BANG mingles with harsh resonances fashioned by the firefight, but Duo's nick-of-time intervention goes unnoticed until the lifeless shooter collapses at a clueless agent's feet.
Eyes wide in shock and pistol leveled at an invisible target, Heero pivots to ascertain the source of his saving grace.
*********
~Flashback~
Six weeks earlier
Haloed in bluish cigarette smoke, Akira Komura, aka Scorpion, barks in Japanese to dismiss three subordinate lackeys from the Syndicate's inner sanctum. Reaching for a bottle of Wild Turkey he nods at an adjacent chair.
Heero sits, settles back with a deceptive casual attitude and accepts a glass of the amber liquor. "There's no need for chitchat." he establishes the rules of negotiation, "We can discuss a deal or I can leave."
Komura scrutinizes the young man who'll never be a team player. What brand of loyalty can be expected from the Lone Wolf? What would be acceptable demands? Perhaps the meeting should be adjourned with a bullet between the arrogant bastard's eyes?
"So, Yuy, what should I demand as proof of your allegiance?" is asked rhetorically.
Heero regards the Red Dragon leader with an air of indifference. "I don't jump through hoops."
Komura speculates. "Was that your rationale for deserting Preventer?"
"My reasons are not important."
"Perhaps, but a credible explanation could be vital to your well-being." Is warned in a no-nonsense tone.
Heero finishes his drink in one gulp. The glass clinks on the tabletop. "You're already aware of my extensive talents or we wouldn't be talking so don't waste my time with hollow threats."
A ghost of a grin flickers over Komura's lips. "A cocky attitude and balls of steel." he declares with a hint of distain at being rationally bested, "I believe we may have business to discuss after all."
*********
~Thirty-one days in the Scorpion's lair~
A pair of pressing motivations compels Heero to continually watch his back.
Being besieged by Komura's licentious attention requires inventive tactics to outfox repulsive propositions and avoid roaming hands. Although the lechery is damned annoying Heero exploits it to his benefit, feinting interest to decoy notice away from his hacking into the Syndicate's database and his stealthy snooping around the warehouse.
However Heero's most imperative incentive is Yohji Hidaka. Youngest son of the infamous Hidaka Clan, the overindulged twenty-three year old is brash, egotistical and predisposed to vicious flares of temper.
Straight away Yohji viewed the newest Red Dragon recruit as a potential rival in his advancement through the ranks but, when he decided Komura's blatant sexual fascination was a significant threat, Heero was targeted by his irrational jealousy.
Obligation to Preventer duty with zero support, coupled with Kamura's constant harassment, was sufficiently tedious for Heero to manage, add Hidaka's unpredictable mood swings and the daily stress began to take its toll.
To ensure a marginal degree of security the Lone Wolf does what's required to conform, whatever it takes to perpetuate the ruse. He functions as Kamura's bodyguard, even pierces his ear because his boss thinks it's sexy.
Computer skills are utilized to reallocate funds, plant fake accounting receipts for the purpose of blackmail and electronically hijack competitors' contraband.
Apathy on autopilot, Heero utters no protest nor argues intervention when Hidaka bludgeons a man labeled as a traitor to death and dumps the mangled body into a makeshift grave at a construction site.
Whiskey and marijuana numb the senses; submitting to Kamura's relentless coercion for blowjobs strips off another layer of defiance. Gradually guilt loses its sway as Heero sinks deeper into his renegade role and slips further away from himself.
Secluded in his Spartan room, door bolted and pistol under his pillow, Heero sprawls on rumpled bedcovers and stares at the spider web cracked ceiling.
He misses Duo.
As a small lamp's feeble illumination plays tricks of light and shadows across a haze of cigarette smoke he craves a drink, yeans for a liquor-concocted mirage, any escape from the raw torment ravishing his soul.
"Got to keep it together."
For your sake? his inner voice inquires.
Heero closes his eyes and sighs. "For Duo's sake."
*********
~Forty-two days~
Emboldened by a false sense of superiority and duped by a sturdy case of stupidity, Yohji Hidaka finally quits his cat-and-mouse game and issues a challenge.
After entertaining his comrades with contemptuous comments about the puny dimensions of Yuy's manhood, the smart-assed underling brags about his Martial Arts prowess then initiates a flurry of strikes and kicks.
The initial flying fist is countered as easily as puffing across thistle fluff. Heero repels the next punch with a forearm block; pivots left then intercepts an off-center side kick by snagging his opponent's ankle and flinging him against the wall.
Fuming, red-faced and spewing a barrage of curses, Hidaka pulls a switchblade from his belt and makes a headlong charge. This time Heero doesn't bother to step aside. A front snap kick dislodges the knife. An uppercut stops Hidaka cold in his tracks, buckles his knees and sprawls him on the concrete floor like a limp rag doll.
Anger burning in Heero's eyes, he kneels beside his trounced challenger, grabs a fistful of blood-stained shirt, jerks Hidaka's torso upwards and cocks a quivering fist to deliver the final retaliatory blow.
1008 hours of hazardous segregation in the depraved hellhole enkindles his fury; daily degradation fanes the firestorm. Breaths pounding in his lungs and heart hammering in his chest, it's increasingly difficult to restrain Heero's murderous inclination to copy Hidaka's previous example of brutality and beat the sadistic bastard to death.
Somewhere in the furthest recesses of Heero's mind, where a minuscule shred of humanity is still miraculously intact, Duo's voice reminds, "You're a better man. Don't let Yohji win by stinking to his level."
Air hisses through clenched teeth, Heero lets go. Focusing an acidic glare to ward off retaliatory responses, he stands up then plows a path through the stunned bystanders.
*********
~Thirty minutes~
The succinct message to Commander Une reads: Launch Operation Scorpion Sting.
With a smirk of satisfaction Heero presses SEND.
~Fifteen minutes~
Pistol in hand, Heero snakes through the warehouse along a labyrinth of crates and cartons. Overhead flickering fluorescent lights lend an eerie ambiance to the already ethereal environment.
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 and Yohji Hidaka and topple the Syndicate's vile network of terror and death.
Slinking behind a stack of metal containers storing ammunition for high-caliber rifles, a glance at Heero's 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.
Two more steps.
Without warning a black-clad squad storms in and all hell breaks loose. Shouts and deafening blasts from discharged weapons 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 his attention.
Across the twilight space a vague silhouette defies identification.
Another step.
"Duo?"
As Heero stares into the gloom to exhume tangible features from allusive apparitions, he fails to notice a glint of silver.
BANG!
The shattering sound ricochets along the total length of Heero body, but when Yohji Hidaka lands with a thud in a boneless heap at his feet, nerve endings recoil with such force he shudders uncontrollably.
~End Flashback~
TBC...
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