Hey there sports fans! Im back! It was nice to see all the feedback I got from TRA, so I decided to write out another Heero fic. This one is one I wrote based on a novel I read a few years back, and was captivated by it. As always, this is an AU fic so expect some characters to be outta character, as well as some elements missing (i.e. Gundams, Sailor Soldiers, etc…). Now keep in mind that this one is a tad bit darker than TRA and deals with more adult themes (hence the "PG-13" rating) so be forewarned, Im not here to corrupt any 12-year-olds. :P, Anyways, here goes nothing…

Payback

Prologue: Returning to Forum

It was just a few minutes past dawn in the big city of New York. People were just waking up from there 8 hour beauty rest, or lack thereof, and preparing for the day. In the streets below New York, a subway was speeding underneath the darkened tunnels. Because it was so early in the day, the subway was almost empty…almost. In the very last car of the train stood one man, tall and slim in stature, and moderately muscle toned in body, dressed in a pair of khaki colored pants, a sports coat of the same color, and a buttoned up white shirt with no tie. His chocolate colored hair was messy and unruly, yet it still had a "neat" appearance to it. His eyes were an eerie, unnerving dark blue and had a cold, empty look to them as the bangs from his hair partially covered them. He stood there, calmly looking ahead not even focused on the subway ride, but more on his inner thoughts, and the events that happened 5 months ago…

'G.S.W. That's what the hospitals call it. Gunshot Wound. The Doctor has to report it to the police. That makes it hard for guys in my line to get what I'd call "Quality Health Care." Not many men know what their life's worth, I do…70 grand. That's what they took from me, and that's what I was going to bet back…'

(Flashback)

An old, overweight, balding man, stood in front of a messy counter. He took one last drag on his unfiltered cigarette before putting it out and opening up a cabinet and, pulling out a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels. He opened the top to the bottle and filled a juice glass up to the top with the amber liquid. And in one fell swoop, proceeded to down the entire contents with out a flinch or a grimace of pain. The old man, set the glass down on the counter top again and this time only filled it half way with whiskey and set what appeared to be a scalpel, surgical forceps, and a needle into the alcoholic beverage. The man then turned around to his bleeding, half-conscious "patient" lying face down on a cold metal table. His chocolate brown hair was matted down over his sweat covered face as gritted his teeth in pain. The old man, set his glass with his tools in it to a nearby table and surveyed man laying face down in front of him: 2 bullet wounds on his back, close to his shoulder blade, it appeared the bullets just narrowly missed his lungs, which means there's a good chance he'll survive.

The old man, grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured some of its contents over the 2 bullet wounds as a makeshift antiseptic. The brown-haired man, hissed at the burning sensation he felt, but made no movement to stop it. After the burning sensation subsided, the old man pulled out the pair of forceps from the whiskey filled glass and proceeded to dig them into the mans flesh searching for bullets embedded in his body. After 5 minutes of searching and mind-numbing pain, both bullets were extracted from his body and he was stitched up with a sewing needle and thread.

(End flashback)

The man's inner thoughts were cut short, as the subway came to a sudden and abrupt halt telling him he had arrived at his destination: Manhattan, Downtown New York. An area he thought he would never have comeback to. As he left the subway and climbed the stairs up the street, a realization hit him: he was absolutely flat broke, unarmed and out of cigarettes. A smirk played on his thin lips, he was going to have to make some money.

'They say "Time heals all wounds." And you think after 5 months of lying on my back, I would have given up any idea of getting even…just be a nice guy, call it a day. Nice guys are fine, you gotta have someone to take advantage of. But they always finish last.'

As the man, stood there for a moment thinking of how he was going to come across some money. He heard some one yelling off in the distance.

"Help a cripple. Help a homeless. Help a Vietnam vet walk again." Yelled a poorly dressed, barefoot man sitting against a building with a hat in front of him. Random people were passing buy dropping change and dollar bills into the hat.

"There we go, something to get me started." The man said aloud, as we walked over to where the homeless man was sitting begging for money. Once he approached him he bent down as pulled all the dollar bills which sat in the hat. The homeless man quickly rose up from his seat, apparently cured, in anger.

"Hey what the fuck are you—ack!" His reprimand was cut short, as the brown-haired man quickly grabbed the bum by the throat and held him up against the wall of the building, glaring at him with his navy blue eyes.

"Shut up! I cured you." He spat at him with his low, cold monotone voice. He released the bum from his grasp and walked off before he created scene, leaving a shocked and scared bum 4 dollars poorer.

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After making a quick 4 bucks, the man decided to get something to eat in a diner. But seeing as he only had 4 dollars to his name all he could afford was a slice of pecan pie and a cup of coffee. After finishing his meal, the waitress stood there and looked at him, wondering if he wanted anything else. He shook his head no and asked what he owed her.

"Uh, $2.98" Was her reply. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the 4 dollars, laying 3 out for the meal, and one for a tip and walking out the door. The woman collects the money, put it in the register, and reached into her pocket for a smoke, but didn't feel her pack there. As she looked out the window he saw the person who just ordered the coffee and pie pocket her pack of cigarettes. He stole her cigarettes, and he would be long gone before she would catch him.

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It was now noon as he was fed, and he got his smokes, now he needed a small amount of money to operate, and to do that he need to find someone that looked very close to his facial features. And so he stood there, leaning against a lamp post watching crowds and crowds of people walk by him. He had to have been standing here for at least a half hour looking for the perfect man. Finally his patience was rewarded as he saw a winner. He was at about the same height and build dressed in an expensive looking, Italian business suit. His hair looked a great deal nicer and cleaner compared to his unruly mop: he was the one.

The man quickly stood up from leaning on the pole and walked towards him, in a nonchalant, casual manner not to alert his target. Right as they met, the man, "accidentally" bumped into his well-dressed counterpart, making him take a step back.

"Oh jeez, im so sorry," he mocked apologized, as he straighten out the front of his suit and walked off. The businessman looked back at him for a moment before brushing it off and continuing on.

The man walked into a nearby building and walked into the bathroom to freshen up. While in there, he straightens up his hair, makes it look more presentable, quickly washed his face, and buttoned up his shirt all the way up to his collar. He then checked the contents of the wallet he just picked pocketed and found that he didn't have any money on him, but fortunately for him, he had a corporate account credit card, an ATM card, and a driver license and looked almost identical to him.

Once exiting the restroom, he made his way over to a near by bank, and using the ATM card in conjunction with the license he was able to get, the bank teller to believed he was "Mr. Johnson" and made a 300 dollar cash withdrawal. It wasn't much, but it was a start, besides, if he had taken any more, it would have drawn attention, which was the last thing he wanted. With his 300 in cash, it was time to go shopping.

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The man adjusted the red tie and looked into the mirror of his new suit, which consisted of navy blue dress pants and coat, with a pale blue button up dress shirt, all custom fitted from Italy.

"Excellent fit sir, and how will you be paying for this?" the tailor chimed in from behind him, holding the man's previous clothing. He turned to look at him for a moment, before digging into the coat pocket of jacket the tailor was holding and handing him the credit card to process. Once the process was completed, the man left in his new suit and entered a Jewelry store. He once again put the stolen credit card to good use, as he purchased 4 new gold watches from the jeweler. Now, where could he find the closest pawn shop?

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The pawn shop owner inspected the watches carefully. Rolexes, solid gold, not high end watches but valuable nonetheless, why this man would pawn them is beyond him. The pawn shop owner looked up at the stranger and gave him the look-over, he didn't know why but he gave him the appearance that he has shot about 4 or 5 people before in his life. What's even odder is the fact that he wasn't even making eye contact with him, it looked like he was staring at the collection of guns he had behind him for sale. He looked him in the eye for a moment longer before speaking up.

"Hey mister?" He spoke up, breaking him from his stare at the guns. "Huh?" he mumbled.

"Ill give you 1500 for this." The pawn shop owner offered. The stranger looked a back over at the guns. "Lemme see that Magnum." He ordered. The owner complied and handed him the silver colored revolver. The stranger held it in his hand and checked the chambers, and the hammer, it was a little heavy, but it sure as hell had stopping power. It was perfect, he set it down on the counter in front of the owner.

"Hn…1000 and the gun." He suggested. The owner thought about it for a moment and nodded. "Um, ill need to see some ID" he said. The stranger complied and handed him the driver's license.

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The man sighed in contempt as he finished off the last bite of his huge t-bone steak. He hadn't eaten anything since this morning and he was starving. He counted out all the hundred dollar bills he had collected during the day, he now sat at 1300 dollars, not bad for one day's work, considering he was on the shelf for 5 months. Once he counted his money, and tucked back into his coat pocket and took a long drag of his cigarette and a sip of his coffee. He was getting ready to leave when the waiter who was serving him came back.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson. This card's been canceled." The waited said. The man looked up at him with fake surprise "Impossible." He replied

"Well I tried it twice and…" the waiter began, but was cut off but the man. "Try it again." He spoke in a low dangerous voice. The waiter quickly backed away and ran to go process the card again. Once he left, the man, took one final puff of his smoke, wiped his mouth off and left the restaurant without paying.

Now that he was armed, had some pocket change, and got his pack of cigarettes, it was time to pay his lovely "wife" a visit…