Chapter one: tears of a clown
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise
*********
"And next up ladies and gentlemen! All the way from the Spanish plains, brought here by your favourite circus, The amazing, the astounding, the sim- ply maaaarvelous, death defying knife artistes! Give them a warm round of applause ladies and gentlemen, Trowa and Katerina!"
The crowd went wild, beating applause into the air and threatening to cause damage to the stands with their stomping. Then the lights were lowered, and the whole ring went dark. The drumroll started quietly, and the audience hushed in anticipation. Small beams of colour started darting around the arena, lighting up flashes of movement. The drumroll steadily increased in volume as the audience gasped, catching a glimpse of a person darting through the shadows. The drumroll reached it's crescendo, climbing to deafening heights.
"Help! Help me! Somebody hel-" the man's scream was cut short by the short and sharp sound of a gunshot. Screams broke out in the audience as people rushed to move away from the source of the noise. No one saw a face covered in a clown mask looking out from behind the huge curtain covering the backstage area. No one saw the circus folk rush out of that area, all armed with pistols and flashlights, searching out the source of violent interruption.
"Move out men! He's somewhere in the B8 section. Track him down and apprehend him. Lethal force is permitted! Go, go, go, go, go!" the sergeant's loud voice boomed out and reached his men, all searching out their prey. The 16 clowns swept around the B8 seating area, first forming a circle around the stand's base, then closing in. but they closed in fully and still hadn't found him.
"Serge, he's not here." One man breathed into his microphone. He ripped his ridiculous hat off and threw it on the ground. He walked over to the edge of the tent and looked out through a flap. Civilians were streaming out across the grounds.
"Shit." The sergeant made a growling noise into his microphone and rubbed his forehead. The last thing he needed was to lose this guy. The assassin had taken out another victim, and he hadn't been there on time. Again. "Where is Trowa? Ask him if he can get princess Relena on the phone. She's the next logical target."
"Uh, serge," the man hesitated, looked around and then turned his back to his men, speaking in hushed tones. "Serge, Trowa isn't here. He stayed behind when we came out."
"He.stayed behind? He. Stayed. Behind." The mans voice was getting colder and harder with each syllable.
"Uh," the corporal swallowed, looking panicked. "Yes. I think I saw him climbing the trapeze ladder."
The sergeant looked up into the dark folds of the tent top. The lights were still all switched off, and he couldn't even tell where the top was.
"I'm going to kill Trowa Barton." He sighed into the radio, not hearing the light hiss of ropes being let down behind him. He didn't even have time to look around before his blood was rushing out of his chest from a large exit wound.
"Not if Trowa Barton kills you first." Came the toneless, expressionless reply.
***********
"Heero, I never thought you'd go out looking for trouble I always assumed it just found you." Trowa shoved his hands in his pockets and regarded the person holding the twin set of barrels aimed at his temples.
"What are you doing here?" Heero lowered the guns and proceeded to go about taking the magazines out and cleaning them. The liked his guns, and he knew that although he wouldn't have them for long (he was the kind of guy who dropped his once he ran out of bullets for them and went on to the next one) he still liked to take care of them. There was a militarial kind of soothing to be found while polishing the cold metal of a machine that is designed to kill.
"I came to tell you that OZ is on your track. They don't know it's you, but you're on the suspect list. You're on the suspect list for just about everything."
"I suppose all five of us are. We haven't exactly done anything to prove our allegiance to OZ, have we?"
"Shoulders toes and knees I suppose."
"Thirty six degrees?" Heero picked up his gun and shoved them into the leg pockets of his black combats. He ripped his black spandex gloves off his hands and looked back at the burning circus tent.
"That's right. So, who are you going to take out next?" Trowa knew he would answer the question, Heero wasn't the type to be shy or paranoid.
"Relena Peacecraft. She is currently at her precious school, so at least I know where to find her."
"Mind if I tag along? I have some things to take care of."
"Catherine?" Heero nodded towards the huge duffel bag thrown over Trowa's shoulder and allowed his question to hang in the air. He knew that Trowa's sister hadn't made it through the shooting in the circus tent.
"Yes." Trowa turned away and started walking towards a black jeep about twenty yards away. He only allowed one tear to fall down his face. Whats the use in crying over wasted lives? Wars killed. He knew that when he signed up.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise
*********
"And next up ladies and gentlemen! All the way from the Spanish plains, brought here by your favourite circus, The amazing, the astounding, the sim- ply maaaarvelous, death defying knife artistes! Give them a warm round of applause ladies and gentlemen, Trowa and Katerina!"
The crowd went wild, beating applause into the air and threatening to cause damage to the stands with their stomping. Then the lights were lowered, and the whole ring went dark. The drumroll started quietly, and the audience hushed in anticipation. Small beams of colour started darting around the arena, lighting up flashes of movement. The drumroll steadily increased in volume as the audience gasped, catching a glimpse of a person darting through the shadows. The drumroll reached it's crescendo, climbing to deafening heights.
"Help! Help me! Somebody hel-" the man's scream was cut short by the short and sharp sound of a gunshot. Screams broke out in the audience as people rushed to move away from the source of the noise. No one saw a face covered in a clown mask looking out from behind the huge curtain covering the backstage area. No one saw the circus folk rush out of that area, all armed with pistols and flashlights, searching out the source of violent interruption.
"Move out men! He's somewhere in the B8 section. Track him down and apprehend him. Lethal force is permitted! Go, go, go, go, go!" the sergeant's loud voice boomed out and reached his men, all searching out their prey. The 16 clowns swept around the B8 seating area, first forming a circle around the stand's base, then closing in. but they closed in fully and still hadn't found him.
"Serge, he's not here." One man breathed into his microphone. He ripped his ridiculous hat off and threw it on the ground. He walked over to the edge of the tent and looked out through a flap. Civilians were streaming out across the grounds.
"Shit." The sergeant made a growling noise into his microphone and rubbed his forehead. The last thing he needed was to lose this guy. The assassin had taken out another victim, and he hadn't been there on time. Again. "Where is Trowa? Ask him if he can get princess Relena on the phone. She's the next logical target."
"Uh, serge," the man hesitated, looked around and then turned his back to his men, speaking in hushed tones. "Serge, Trowa isn't here. He stayed behind when we came out."
"He.stayed behind? He. Stayed. Behind." The mans voice was getting colder and harder with each syllable.
"Uh," the corporal swallowed, looking panicked. "Yes. I think I saw him climbing the trapeze ladder."
The sergeant looked up into the dark folds of the tent top. The lights were still all switched off, and he couldn't even tell where the top was.
"I'm going to kill Trowa Barton." He sighed into the radio, not hearing the light hiss of ropes being let down behind him. He didn't even have time to look around before his blood was rushing out of his chest from a large exit wound.
"Not if Trowa Barton kills you first." Came the toneless, expressionless reply.
***********
"Heero, I never thought you'd go out looking for trouble I always assumed it just found you." Trowa shoved his hands in his pockets and regarded the person holding the twin set of barrels aimed at his temples.
"What are you doing here?" Heero lowered the guns and proceeded to go about taking the magazines out and cleaning them. The liked his guns, and he knew that although he wouldn't have them for long (he was the kind of guy who dropped his once he ran out of bullets for them and went on to the next one) he still liked to take care of them. There was a militarial kind of soothing to be found while polishing the cold metal of a machine that is designed to kill.
"I came to tell you that OZ is on your track. They don't know it's you, but you're on the suspect list. You're on the suspect list for just about everything."
"I suppose all five of us are. We haven't exactly done anything to prove our allegiance to OZ, have we?"
"Shoulders toes and knees I suppose."
"Thirty six degrees?" Heero picked up his gun and shoved them into the leg pockets of his black combats. He ripped his black spandex gloves off his hands and looked back at the burning circus tent.
"That's right. So, who are you going to take out next?" Trowa knew he would answer the question, Heero wasn't the type to be shy or paranoid.
"Relena Peacecraft. She is currently at her precious school, so at least I know where to find her."
"Mind if I tag along? I have some things to take care of."
"Catherine?" Heero nodded towards the huge duffel bag thrown over Trowa's shoulder and allowed his question to hang in the air. He knew that Trowa's sister hadn't made it through the shooting in the circus tent.
"Yes." Trowa turned away and started walking towards a black jeep about twenty yards away. He only allowed one tear to fall down his face. Whats the use in crying over wasted lives? Wars killed. He knew that when he signed up.