So, uh, I've decided to revise all the chapters of this fic before finishing it. I feel like it could use more fleshing out, and there's some typos that I'm not even sure how I missed, but I did. So, the Fight, REVISED.

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Prologue

Procuring new weapons or ammo was always a major hassle. Stan had connections, but even with those, it was no easy task. Slinking down a back alley, he had already undergone the pat-down by the security guard at the corner, and he felt his shoulders tense as he approached the second guard by the door to the hidden shop. He'd been going here for about a year, but he'd been on a waiting list for months before they ever let him inside the shop. The owners had done all kinds of background checks on him, careful to make sure he wasn't secretly working for the government.

Still, the hassle was well worth it. La Resistance was going strong, and the new recruits needed weapons to help with the fight, and this was the best place to get them. Plus all the security checks meant the shop he frequented was as safe as possible for him to visit, with minimal risk of being seen by someone he didn't want exposing him. The security guard at the door examined his ID card and papers, and waved him through with a bored look on his face.

Stan took a quick glance around the shop as he entered it. It was empty, save for a blonde, sophisticated-looking guy examining a machine gun. He looked a little out of place among all the heavy machinery, but with things being the way they were, the best way to get a bullet in the face was to oggle people who were paranoid about their safety. The kind of people who would be perusing a secret hidden gun shop at 2 o'clock in the morning, for example. Stan approached the man at the counter to place his order, smiling and striking up a conversation with him as he did so.

The methods this shop employed were rather ingenious. They had display samples all along the walls, and a limited supply room in the back for small orders. Larger orders, such as the ones Stan usually had to make, were processed through their outside warehouse, and shipped out disguised as medical supplies or foodstuffs. Most people, even those with small orders, tended to have their things shipped, since under the harsh new government laws, anyone caught on the street with a gun would be executed immediately.

Stan stepped to the counter and put in a large enough order to keep him in "business" for a few more months. After signing some papers and handing over a rather large wad of cash, he talked shop with the owner for a few minutes, until he felt the presence of the blonde from before hovering behind his back. He could tell the man was trying to get a good look at him, but he ignored him until finally he couldn't stand it anymore.
"Can I help you?" he asked, turning slowly to face the young man. He got a much better look at him this time. Wavy, golden hair framed a pretty face. He had sparkling blue eyes, and a beautiful mouth that curved into a smile when he was finally able to examine Stan's face. There was something a little off about him; he seemed slightly effeminate, and was extremely well-dressed in a form-fitting, tailored suit. Not the sort of person you'd expect to see on this side of town, much less in a gun shop. He also looked strangely familiar, but Stan couldn't quite place where he might have seen him before. But he apparently recognized Stan.

"Ah, my goodness, I thought it was you," the blonde said in a clipped British accent. He gave Stan a scrutinizing look, "...But you don't appear to remember me."

Stan was annoyed by the confident smirk that appeared on the blonde boy's face, but something in it jogged his memory. Somehow flashes of the first incarnation of La Resistance ran through his head, and he thought he had his answer. What the hell had that guy's name been? George? Gary? It didn't matter. "You're that kid that stole my girlfriend in third grade!" he shouted.

A strange look crossed over the blonde's face. It was somewhere between surprise and distaste. Stan immediately knew he had said something stupid.

"That's what you remember me as? We worked together, and fought for a noble cause, and you only remember me as the kid that stole your girlfriend? Typical," he said, rolling his eyes and planting his hands upon his hips.

The bell at the front of the store jangled, as a new customer wandered in. Even if all the customers at the shop had been cleared by its owners, Stan didn't like taking chances with his safety. He glanced nervously at the newcomer, and then back at the blonde.

"Look, uh..."

"Gregory."

Oh yeah. "Gregory. None of this matters. This little trip down memory lane has been fun and all, but it's not really important, and I have to be going now." Stan turned to leave, but was stopped by Gregory's hand on his arm.

"Wait, Stanley!"

Oh, of course he remembered Stan's name.

"Look, perhaps we can be of assistance to each other. It's apparent we're in the same... business, and having contacts is always a good thing." He smiled a full smile at Stan, revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. He could admit to himself that Gregory was a very attractive young man, even if blondes weren't really his type. Heprobablyknowsthat,though,thought Stan, He'sprobablytryingtocharmmesothathegetshisway.

Stan glared at Gregory for a moment, before anxiously glancing once more at the man who had entered the shop earlier.

"Can we have this conversation outside, maybe?" he asked.

"Oh, sure," said Gregory with a smile, following Stan toward the door.

Stan mulled over this new development as they walked toward the deserted end of the alley. Childish or not, he still held a grudge against Gregory. But Gregory was right... contacts were important, and if Stan remembered correctly, he was a very smart guy, who was good at making plans. Perhaps La Resistance could use his assistance once again.

Once they reached the end of the alley they turned to each other. Stan kind of wanted to wipe that self-satisfied look off Gregory's face, but figured that might be counter-productive.

"So, you're doing resistance work?" he asked instead.

"Oh yes, Christophe and I – Oh, do you remember Christophe? The Mole, that is," he paused as Stan nodded in affirmation, "Yes, well, he and I are partners. We do a lot of small-time things, mostly gathering data and the like, sometimes assassinations, but we certainly wouldn't mind getting involved in something a bit more large-scale. And if nothing else it would be nice to hear what's going on in the larger community. It's hard to get any information on that these days."

Stan nodded thoughtfully at this. He wasn't sure they'd be much of a help to La Resistance if they weren't used to helping out larger groups, but maybe Kyle would disagree. They could discuss it tonight before they came to any decisions.

"Ok," Stan said, "It probably isn't safe to discuss this here, at any rate. Can you both meet with us tomorrow?"

"We have somewhere to be in the evening, but we could meet around noon, perhaps?"

"Sure. Then meet me at Cafe Musain around noon tomorrow. It's near the 16th Street Mall."

"Musain?" Gregory asked with a quirk of his lips, "Really?"

Stan just gave him a warning look, before turning and heading back down the alley. With a sigh, Gregory returned to the store to place his own order.