A.N: I know I have quite a few stories that are incomplete out there but I can't help it when my muse to write attacks so suddenly. And so here is my very first Human Target story, A Shot in the Dark. It centers around Guerrero and my character. (Not enough love for Guerrero out there, I think.) I hope you like this first installment, and please read and review. I need feedback to keep this story going, so please anything you can help me with, feel free to say whats on your mind.

Edit: I have updated this chapter to change some things. Please read and review.

Enjoy Chapter One: A Hard Kept Secret

A message flashed across his computer screen,

'No Matches Found'

*Damn! No match again! How much longer is this going to take?* Guerrero slammed his laptop closed, pinching his fingers in the process, "Damn it!"

"You know you're supposed to remove your fingers from the keyboard before you close down?" Winston stated as he walked into the room carrying another pink box.

"Shut up, Winston."

"I was just saying-" He was cut off as Guerrero thumbed the safety on his gun, turning it off.

Winston's hands shot up and the box he was holding crashed to the floor, spilling doughnuts everywhere.

"And I said shut up dude. Or do you need help?"

"Whoa, man! I didn't mean anything by it! I was just poking fun!"

He switched the safety back on and grabbed his jacket.

"Never mind." He shrugged it on as he made his way to the elevator. He pressed the button and zipped his coat closed.

"Where ya going?" Winston asked.

"Out." Was his only reply.

The doors dinged as they opened and he bumped into Chance on his way out.

Chance turned to him, "What's up, Guerrero?"

Guerrero's hand stilled at the buttons and he looked at Chance, fire in his eyes.

"Still can't find her." Then he pressed a button, causing the doors to close, and he was gone, leaving Chance rooted to the spot.

*He's still looking for the kid? Talk about about never giving up.* Chance shook his head and walked into the office.

What's got Guerrero in such a happy mood?" Winston questioned him as he took his jacket off.

"Well you tend to get angry when you can't find who you're looking for." He replied as he opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, and closed the door with a boot.

Winston looked surprised, "Guerrero's looking for someone? I find that a little hard to believe. Who's he looking for?"

Chance shrugged. "That's something you'd have to ask him, although I don't think he'd tell you."

Winston snorted, "Yeah, like that'll happen anytime soon. He'd-wait a minute..."

He turned to the blonde man and watched as he took a deep drink of his beer.

Chance was weirded out by his constant staring, so finally he broke, "What?"

"You know who he's looking for, dontcha?"

"Winston, no. If I tell you, Guerrero would not be happy about it, alright? Chance walked to the couch and slumped into the cushions.

sat down across from Chance, "Why all the secrecy?"

Chance shrugged, "Well let's just say it would bring to light a completely different side of Guerrero and I don't think he wants people to know too much about that part of his past, especially you. He would also kill me if I told you."

Winston scooted to the edge of his seat and leaned towards Chance. "So again, why all the secrecy?"

Chance sighed and shook his head. "It has to do with a person by the name of Shana Wilde."

Now Winston looked truly shocked, "Wait a minute here. A girl! He's been looking for a girl? Now that definitely doesn't sound like Guerrero. How did a kid get mixed up with someone like him?"

"Yeah, well I thought that at first too, but he has been looking for her for eleven years. It has to do with a hit that went south on him. You know Guerrero might not act like it, but he has a soft spot for kids, this kid especially. I guess he feels responsible for what happened to her."

"What's the kid's story, then?"

Chance finished his beer and placed the bottle on the dark wood coffee table between them. "Well, you know that Guerrero did a lot of freelance work before he worked for the old man, right?"

Winston nodded his head and leaned back, indicating him to continue.

"Well, he got a call from a mob boss by the name of Carlos Salvatore. Apparently a scientist that was working for him decided to run. Carlos wanted the scientist to create a way to make him live forever. The scientist didn't want anything to do with it anymore, so he destroyed all the research except for one file that he kept on his personal laptop. Guerrero was supposed to find him and the research, silence him for good, and deliver the girl alongside the remaining files."

"Yeah, that sounds like something he would do." Winston piped in.

Chance nodded at his words, "Yeah, well Guerrero did find them, took him four months, but he did."

He had tracked them down to a shady motel in a rundown section of Argentina, but found he wasn't the only one.

Carlos and his thugs had followed them as well. As soon as Guerrero was able to get into the room, everything had already gone to hell. The scientist was already dead, Carlos and his thugs saw to that. He had numerous gunshot wounds and his throat had been slit as well. His blood was everywhere, it too much of a mess for his taste. He liked his jobs to go smoothly. This was bad, very bad.

A cry in the next room caught his attention and when he had finally got the door open, he saw Carlos trying to force a girl down into the mattress, ripping at her clothes. The bastard was trying to rape the scientist's daughter.

The girl was trying hard to get away from him. He could see deep gouges trailing the boss's arms and she was trying to maneuver her legs to a spot where she would be able to place a good kick on him. She was a fighter.

He stilled over the girl, slapping her hard, earning a whimper from her already bloody lips. He turned his head toward him, a leer on his face. "Don't worry, you can have her after I'm done."
Guerrero was pissed, he's never codoned this sort of thing, ever. So when Carlos turned back to the girl, he raised his rifle, "Sorry to interrupt dude, but I don't think your her type."

He brought the rifle butt down on the back of his head and knocked Carlos out cold.

He took off his outer shirt and went to wrap it around her, but stopped when she scrambled across the bed away from him.

Guerrero shook his head and put his hands up, "You know this is some thank you. I mean I did just stop that ass from-"

"Thank you, but I'd rather not be touched right now." she interrupted.

"Understandable, dude. I know all about the personal space issues. Have some myself actually."

"What's going to happen now? And I'm not a dude." She asked him.

Guerrero shrugged, "Don't know. First we need to get past those goons out there." He nodded his head toward the door. He turned Carlos over and patted him down, finding a .45 in his side holster.

"Not my favorite but it will do for now. Now button up your shirt and pack a couple changes of clothes into that duffel over there. Just enough for a couple days." He turned to the door, placing an ear against it, trying to place where the goons were. Clinking could be heard. They were in the kitchen.

Good...

The kitchen had knives.

He liked knives almost as much as he did guns, but they were messier. *Oh well. Sometimes you just have to lower your standards.*

She turned to grab the duffel bag he had pointed to but stopped and turned to him, asking "What's your name?"

"Guerrero."

"Your first name?"

"Guerrero."

She sighed in exasperation and shook her head, "Fine. MY name is Shana. Shana Wilde."

"Enough chit-chat kid. Let's go."

"So he took the girl with him. He would've killed Carlos, but he didn't. Didn't say why, though, just that he tried to keep her hidden from Carlos as long as he could."

"Wait. What happened after that? How did they get out of the motel room and how did Guerrero end up looking for her?"

Chance shrugged, "I don't know. I've only been able to get that much out of him and he was plastered when I did. I haven't dared tried to get more out of him since then. I rather like my fingernails where they are at the moment."

"Yeah, but I mean eleven years! That's a long time looking for a kid." Winston whistled a low, long note.

"More like looking for redemption." Chance replied. Before Winston could ask him any more; a loud thumping noise caught their attention. They both looked up at the ceiling and then at each other.

"Hey, do you hear what I'm hearing?" Winston asked him.

Chance nodded, "Yeah and I don't think it's a squirrel."

They both pulled their guns out and switched the safety off; making a sweep of each of the rooms.

"Bedrooms and bathrooms clear!" Chance voice yelled out.

"Kitchen and emergency exits clear!" Winston replied, "Chance, I think the sound's coming from the vents."

"Let's check it out. Hey, could you grab the ladder from the storage closet?"

Chance continued to follow the thumping into the next room until he came to stand underneath the big grate that lead to the ventilation system.

Winston made his way to the closet, grumbling the whole way. "Hey, let's check this out. Go get the ladder. Like you can't get it yourself?"

He opened the closet door, but stopped as a loud creak echoed through the room.

Chance looked up at the large grate with a thoughtful expression his face. The grate creaked again and Chance looked at Winston, gun raising, "I don't think we'll need the ladder."

And with a final creak and groan, the clasp holding the grate snapped causing it to swing open; allowing a big lump of ripped cloth to fall to the floor with a thump.

"That was too loud for a pile of just cloth. Winston, cover me. I'll check it out." Chance lowered his gun to his side and slowly approached the unmoving mass. He stilled when it twitched violently and aimed his gun at it again.

Winston was hesitant in his words, "Hey..uh, Chance? Is dirty laundry supposed to move?"

Chance shook his head at him, "I don't think it's just laundry."

He reached a hand out and grabbed a handful of the torn cloth; the other hand keeping the gun pointed dead center of the pile. He slowly tugged on it until he finally saw a patch of pale flesh. He thumbed the safety off and slammed his gun back in the holster; kneeling beside the pile.

"Damn! Winston, it's a kid! Grab a blanket and the first aid kit, they look pretty banged up, but I can't be certain until I have a better look at them."

Winston just stood there in shock until Chance yelled at him, "Now!"

He ran to get the supplies that they needed while Chance knelt down beside the slightly shaking figure, watching as they struggled to breathe. He gently brushed the long dirtied locks of their hair from their face. He glanced at the vent then looked back down at the shaking form.

*Just how did you get up there, kid?*

The elevators doors dinged and opened, revealing Guerrero inside.

"Hey, dude. Forgot my keys."

His gaze shifted from Chance and Winston to the pile of cloth and flesh and drew his gun, switching the safety off.

"Dude, I'm like gone for twenty minutes and already there's trouble. That's not cool. At least wait for me first."

"I don't think she's dangerous, Guerrero. She's practically unconscious and I think she has a couple broken ribs to boot. Winston went to get a blanket and the first aid kit."

"She? That a girl?"

"Yes, Guerrero, a girl. Not a kid though, she looks to be about late twenties, early thirties. It looks like she's been through hell."

Guerrero knelt down on the other side of her slowly reaching a hand out to brush her hair from her face.

His hands stilled as his fingers brushed across a crescent shaped scar on her cheek. His eyes shot up to lock with Chance's.

Christopher Chance had seen a lot of things and done a lot of things in his life, but seeing Guerrero visibly pale worried him immediately.

"What's wrong, Guerrero?"

"Chance, dude, it's her. It's Shana.""

I hope you enjoyed this first installment and again read and review. Please?