TITLE: Weapon of choice
Summary: Relena lovers beware. Relena haters beware. Character deaths both vaguely and graphically mentioned. No concrete pairings. Angst ahead!
Disclaimer: GW is not mine. So no mecha can-can dance/ chorus line.
Dedicated: To my dear roommates that shunned me for a good week for writing this fic. HA! It didn't stop me!
His weapon of choice in this endeavor was a small caliber pistol. It wasn't the normal weapon to use in such a situation but it had just that slight unprofessional edge that would distract people from what was essentially a professional setup. Plus there were other factors involved in his choice.
He had some trouble finding a silencer to fit the pistol of his choice but the small bullet was the key. A small enough gun with only enough power to puncture the thick bone of the cranium once and ricochet around the victim's skull like a ball bearing in a can of spray paint, liquefying it.
The victim's death would be nearly instant. No chance of survival with only brain damage and the face would remain relatively intact. Then all he would do is turn the victim over onto it's back to prevent the blood from pooling in the facial region and causing bruising. With a little work on the part of the mortician, this death for the victim would have let it have an open casket funeral. That alone was worth the risk of leaving a piece of evidence to tie the assassination to him. A martyr's death is supposed to be seen... displayed...
"Plus I owe it." the assassin thought to himself before banishing the weakness from him. Checking his watch, he cursed. It was already time.
The assassin sneaked past the defenses of the compound. The only distraction was the surge of anger he felt at the sheer ease. He quickly dismissed it. It was no longer his place to worry about the defenses of this place anymore.
He entered through the balcony doors and locked them. The new person in charge of the defenses should have thought this was an ideal entryway, even at the height and enhanced security. How very incompetent.
The bedroom was arranged just like he remembered. Even before his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could side step and maneuver around the various furniture. It was hard to not let the memories of the last visits here surface and distract him but he was able to do it. After all, he was here on business.
Many would consider it nearly inhuman to refer to the victim in terms of 'target' or the ambiguously gendered 'it'. But he really didn't care. That was the terminology, plain and simple.
Silently he padded through the room past his victim's bed to the far corner of the room that was completely shrouded in darkness. The target shifted in it's sleep and wrinkled it's brow in concentration, as if trying to categorize his vague presence. He paused and held his breath until he knew for certain that his mission wasn't yet complicated by the subject awaking too soon.
He leveled his arm and aimed carefully. He wanted to do this in one shot and one shot only, carefully executed and painless.
Then he waited. He was already braced when he heard the sudden ring of the target's phone, across the room from him on the far set of drawers at the prescribed time.
His target awoke, startled, and ran to the phone. Only in an emergency would that phone normally ring since only a choice few had the number.
The receiver off its cradle, and up to the target's ear, only gave silence as the target frantically greeted "Hello? Who is this?" unknowing that the person that called her was a computer halfway across the world ricocheting signals across far-flung points in Mankind's scope of influence.
It was time. A pulled trigger and zinging pop would be all that was needed to complete his mission. But that's when it happened.
She didn't turn around, just simply paused and gasped.
"Heero." She whispered, before she looked over her should to face him. How could she have known?
And that was his mistake. His moment of hesitation that led to his sudden flash of panic, as he jerked at the trigger.
Being so disconcerted really affected his aim. The bullet did hit her but didn't go anywhere near his chosen target point. It punched through her chest, right below the right shoulder blade, only slightly chipping a front rib on its way out of her body.
Relena slumped and clutched at the armoire in front of her as the pain assailed her. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with any possible reason why now of all moments this had happened. But then thought hit her that somehow she couldn't draw a correct full breathe and it had something to do with the sucking gurgle from her chest.
Her panicked diaphragm's frantic working was probably only quickening the time that the punctured lung would collapse by she didn't know that. She scrambled for the balcony door since Heero blocked the way to the hallway. Her instinct of self preservation overriding all thoughts of questioning why Heero was there shooting her.
She pulled and struggled to open the balcony doors which he had locked behind him. He awoke from his frozen position to race across the room to yank her back from the doors right as she had collected her wits enough to fumble the lock open.
He slumped to the ground with one arm clutching her back firmly to his chest as his other hand was clamped across her mouth. He knew if he wasn't so strong she would have a possible chance that her adrenaline rushed flight or fight mechanism might have broken from his grip. But as such all her struggling and muffled cries were useless.
"I-." Heero began, wanting to explain and make her as calm as the times before but he couldn't bring himself to utter an explanation because he couldn't remember the reasoning anymore. She was supposed to be silent by now. That was his job.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he buried his face into hair at the crook of her neck and listened to her thundering, racing heartbeat and rapid breath rasping through her nostrils as she hyperventilated. This was syncopated by her occasional whimper, shudder, and weak struggle. Her feet thumped against the floor. All that kept running through his mind was that she was supposed to fall without a sound. How dare she make so much noise.
He noticed that it seemed to take an eternally for her to still to only the occasional sobbing and it seemed to take even longer for his brain to slow down enough to realize that the two small punctures in her front and back weren't going to be enough, despite the sticky wet warmth on her nightgown. His mind threatened to break down into the previous circle of panic when the thought hit him. She had been sitting there all that time slowly bleeding to death as her remaining lung threatened to join its brother and collapse. But he was able to shake himself out of it and to force himself to once again take steady deep breathes. The faster he got this over with the sooner she'd be still.
Gently laying her down, he carefully aimed and put a bullet through her forehead. A minute ticked by as he collected his nerves, reassuring himself that gentle look of peace and accepted betrayal that crossed his target's face couldn't have even been visible in the dimly lit room.
Heero hardened himself. He wouldn't dare give in to the impulse to ease the target's wide eyes shut, lay her hands folded on her chest, and smooth down her twisted nightgown modestly back past her knees. That was merely twisted fancy. Let the detectives and morticians do there job. He had done his.
The sirens could be heard in the distance rushing past him. Heero even saw the flashing strobe of an ambulance reflected off the water behind him on the bridge.
What would the others do when they found out? Wufei would be riding in to bring his own code of volatile justice to Heero the second after he found out. Quatre wouldn't be able to do anything but cry publicly on the news, appealing to people remember what Relena's life once represented. He would never know that he was playing exactly into the powers that be's eagerly waiting hands. Zechs would also be of no help, going mad with grief at the loss of his sibling, vowing to hunt Relena's killer down to either of their dying days. Trowa would continue on in his life but Heero knew if he tried to contact Trowa a bullet would be his only greeting. And Duo...
"Duo..."His once partner would have done his best to prevent Heero from taking the mission in the first place. And he would have one first in line for Heero's blood if Heero had gone through with it, believing that with the completion of the job meant that the loss of the last vestiges of Heero's humanity. Of course, that would be if Duo was still alive.
He stared wide eyed at the churning waters below the bridge for a minute before throwing his guns and gloves over the edge. He knew he should have waited to get to the incinerator he had arranged access to. Since a single thing in this mission hadn't gone according to plain, why start now?
"Sloppy." He muttered disgusted, as he looked at his blood soaked clothes. He'd change them when he reached his shuttle.
He reminded himself to hurry to his shuttle and go into hiding. His once backers would never acknowledge their connection to his existence. Best disappear before they tried to eliminate him as well.
After all, he was only their weapon of choice.
Inspiration for this story:
Every "Heero kills Relena for being a stupid #$%& for distracting him from his real love Duo!lol!Fangurl rulz!" I'm sorry, that is so wrong on so many levels. (Heero wouldn't kill such an important political figure on impulse unless specifically ordered to, Heero would plan the %$# out of such an assassination, Duo would never let such an assassination to take place (Darn Goody-two-shoes God 'o' Death!), etc, etc.)
So this simple weak plot bunny evolved into this fearsome 'Villainous Stratagem Leporidae' about a botched mission. Ya gotta love Heero torture.
Sorry I can't do a humorous omake for this fic. An apology to an fans I might have. I suggest you see my other GW fic "The Ultimate Secret Weapon (AKA Pretty in Pink)" on FFnet. It's pretty funny.