It's everybody's favorite nocturnal canis lupus returning with the next
installment of 'Sylvia's Solitary Soldier' Enjoy!!
Disclaimer: 'Leaves his lawyer's office with some paperwork in his hand'.
As my lawyer so forcefully told me, I still do not own Gundam Wing and its
related characters. The only character that belongs to me is Devon Tanisius. You are
more than welcome to use him but please ask first. Thank you. Now on with the
story!
Sylvia's Solitary Soldier
Chapter 1: The Shooting Match
A.C. 201
Noventa Manor.
"BEEP….BEEP….BEEP….BEEP.", sounded the alarm clock on the dark oaken nightstand next to the queen-sized bed.
A delicate hand reached out from under the thick comforter on the bed and haphazardly reached around in an attempt to silence the annoying alarm. The alarm abruptly shut up when the hand was forcibly brought down on the top of the antique brass clock. In the sudden silence a load groan was followed by a poorly muffled yawn as the hand retreated back under the covers. When the hand finally disappeared from view it was replaced by a pile of sleep mused blonde hair tied back in a simple braid. A slight creak echoed in the room as the figure on the bed rotated her sock covered feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers sitting on the oval rug next to the bed. Once the feet were securely in the house shoes, the covers were thrown off and the owner of the silken hair sat up and looked at the clock. The clock face showed 7:03 am on its analog face.
"Dammit, seven o'clock never came this early before. Ugh, I feel as if I just went to sleep.", said Sylvia Noventa as she stretched her arms in an effort to further wake up her body.
At twenty-one years of age, Sylvia Noventa had matured into a beautiful young lady. With her shortened slightly shoulder length blonde hair and her full figured curves; Sylvia was often in the news as one of the Earth Spheres twenty-five most beautiful women. Of the twenty-four women ahead of her four were married, six were newly engaged, and eight were older. Of the six that were left, three were fashion models while the remaining three were the newly elected Foreign Minister, and two university professors.
'Ugh. What time did I actually go to bed last night? I cannot remember."
Shrugging her shoulders and putting last nights festivities, behind her, Sylvia climb out of bed and rose to her full five foot eleven inch height. After another few stretches, the twenty-one year old beauty walked over to the floor length window that led out onto the four foot long 'widow's walk, she'd had built to replace the balcony that had gotten destroyed in some of the final Earth based battles to end the Barton Foundation's bid to rule the entire Earth Sphere.
On the way to the window, Sylvia picked up the warm terry robe she loved and used it to cover the wine colored full-length satin nightgown she had slept in. Looking at the golden orb that was slowly starting its trek across the sky, Sylvia smiled. Today might actually be a good day.
Turning from the window and heading over to her night stand, Sylvia picked up the remote and turned on the television. The chatter of the news announcer brought her fully awake as the stories of the morning were discussed in detail. Not surprisingly, the news of the recent election of Relena Peacecraft to the position of Foreign Minister was the headline. The morning's discussion was about how the new Foreign Minister had gotten married within hours of her taking the oath of office to her long time lover and body-guard. The press was upset that the new Foreign Minister had not told them that she was getting married. They were further incensed that the foreign ministers brother had married his fiancée and former OZ officer in the same ceremony.
"They need to go ahead and leave that alone. Relena had been engaged before she was even nominated to be the new Foreign Minister. She was just as surprised as everyone else that her work as the V.F.M. had been noticed. Relena was grateful that the outgoing Foreign Minister had thrown his support behind her campaign.", grumbled Sylvia as she took a seat at her dressing table and proceeded to brush her hair out.
At the moment there was a knock on the door and Sylvia bade her personal maid to enter.
"Good Morning madam and how are you doing this morning? Did sleep well last night, Baroness Noventa?"
"Yes I did, Jan. Thank you for the extra pillows. With them I felt a bit better. "
"That's good baroness. A good night's always helps you start the day off well."
Sylvia nodded absently as she let the maid finished her brushing her hair and made her bed. Getting out of the way of the busy woman, Sylvia made her way to her bathroom so that she could take her morning's shower. Once in the bathroom, Sylvia closed the door and started the water in the shower. Stripping out of her robe, dressing gown, and underwear, she stuck her hand in the running water and tested it. Satisfied with the heated temperature, Sylvia stepped into the black marble shower and proceeded to cleanse herself of the previous nights' party aftermath.
Forty-five minutes later, a refreshed and alert Sylvia stepped out of the shower and dried herself off. Seeing the dainty lace panty and bra set sitting on the counter, she sighed in resignation. Her maid was always trying to get her to wear something a bit more feminine. Sticking her head out the door, Sylvia called:
"Jan, how many times have I told you that I don't wear dainty frilly crap like this except for formal occasions? Can you please get a more sensible set out of my dresser?"
"But Baroness Noventa, you might meet your future husband today. What would he say if he saw you didn't wear anything a lady of your station should be wearing?"
"Jan.", said Sylvia warningly.
"Yes baroness. I will do as you asked.", said the down-heartened maid.
Jan went across the spacious bedroom to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Looking in the opened drawer, she found a gray pair of cotton briefs and a matching sports bra. Carrying the set to the bathroom with a look of distaste on her pretty features, she handed the set to Sylvia. Sylvia accepted the garments and closed the door. Five minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened again and Sylvia walked out wearing only her sensible underwear.
Seeing the dress that her maid had chosen for her to wear laying out on her bed, she groaned. It seemed that her grandmother was in one of her moods again and wanted to talk to her wayward granddaughter about her single status and what she planned to do about it.
"That means another stilted breakfast in the formal family dining room, again. Dammit, why can't she see that I'm not interested in any of the rich and titled boys she invites to these formal balls she likes to hold at least twice a month? I can never get any time to myself. With my recent job change, its going to be worse.", mentally fumed Sylvia.
Indeed, the new Vice Foreign Minister had received several new invites to the many formal political functions she was expected to now attend. The sheer amount had been staggering. Mentally cursing Relena out, Sylvia put the dress on so that she could hurry up and get the meal and discussion done with. She had plans for the day and this breakfast was pushing them back.
"I'll be lucky to even make it to the range at this rate. Dammit Relena Peacecraft! Why did you choose me to be your successor as the Vice Foreign Minister when you knew that I didn't want the position?"
Slipping into the hated garment, Sylvia turned so that her smirking maid could zip the dress up. When she was finished, Jan stepped back and admired the way the bright sundress set off her mistress's dusky skin color and blonde hair. The color brought out the dark color of her dark green eyes. She did not understand why Baroness Sylvia hated wearing dresses or skirts of any type. With her full-figure and impeccable manners, Jan knew that Sylvia would be the perfect wife to whomever she chose to marry. Looking at Sylvia's bare throat, Jan narrowed her eyes as she saw her charge reach for a hated piece of jewelry.
The jewelry in question wasn't anything flashy like gold or silver. Instead it was a handmade black leather thong with a panther pendant attached. Sylvia never went anywhere without that piece of jewelry and Jan could never understand why the elder Baroness Noventa allowed her granddaughter to wear something so cheap.
While her maidservant was fuming about her choice of accessory, Sylvia arranged the necklace so that the way the pendant hung; it barely touched the tops of her triple C cup breasts. She was still fuming at being chosen as Relena's successor. To this day, she still remembered the conversation in Relena's office.
*Flashback*
Dressed in a white linen business suit, Sylvia Noventa stopped and entered the office of the ESUN V.F.M. Knocking on the thick oaken door; she recognized the voice of Relena Peacecraft.
"Who is it?"
'It's Sylvia Noventa, Ms. Darlian. You asked that I join you for lunch today?", answered Sylvia.
Sylvia heard a flurry of footsteps and was a bit surprised when the Vice Foreign Minister opened her own door. The surprise must have showed on her face because Relena commented on it.
"Oh, surprised? Sorry, I sent my secretary for an early lunch today and was busy with these papers."
"Its okay, Vice Foreign Minister Darlian", replied Sylvia as she entered the plushly carpeted office of the youngest government official of the Earth Sphere United Nation.
"Call me Relena. We're both the same age. Besides, we have a mutual acquaintance.", Relena had stated with a nod of her head in the direction of the darkest corner of her office.
Squinting her eyes, Sylvia saw the pilot of the Wing Zero Gundam. He stood with his back against the wall, eyes closed, and his head bent down. She recognized the dark-haired form as a more masculine form of the boy who had handed her a pistol and demanded she take his life as retribution for his accidental killing of her grandfather.
'Mr. Yuy. Nice to see you again At least this time circumstances are better than they were back then."
"Hnn.", came the almost silent reply from the corner.
Figuring that that was all she was going to get from the man, Sylvia had sat down in the seat offered. The conversation that had followed had gone from girlish gossip to discussions of more important matters. The V.F.M. had just explained why her office was so well lit [So my bodyguard cannot hide in the shadows like he prefers] when their food arrived. It was in the midst of a discourse of Dorothy Catalonia's recent wedding to multi-billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner and the sudden rushing of the new Mrs. Winner to the hospital midway through the reception due to the breaking of the pregnant woman's water when Relena told Sylvia why she had called her here today.
"Sylvia, I know you are wondering why I asked you to join me today. You know that the Foreign Minister's election is coming up, right?"
Sylvia nodded so Relena continued:
"It has become apparent that the Foreign Minister is pushing for my nomination as his successor when he leaves office. However, he knows that I'll have a political battle on my hands for that position. The Foreign Minister also knows that I need a running mate who will uphold what I have started in this office."
"I understand, Ms. Relena. You want my suggestions about whom you should choose as your successor."
"No. The Foreign Minister suggested and I concurred that you shall be my running mate."
Sylvia had been stunned at the words that came out of Relena's mouth. She had entered the office expecting to be asked for her recommendations. Never once did it cross her mind that she was to be Relena's running mate and successor.
"I'm ah… um. I'm honored Ms. Relena, but why me and why not somebody else?"
"It is believed that your nomination and election as V.F.M. will give my ideas a better chance of being accepted throughout the E.S.U.N. Now don't get the wrong idea that we are just using you as a way to get votes. I would never do that to you. If you're nominated and elected it would also give me someone my own age to talk to in meetings and it will show those old men that any other woman can handle the work. Plus, you'll appease the remnants of the Romefeller Foundation and the Alliance because of your family ties and because you are titled in your own right."
Sylvia had slowed the discussion down by taking a bite of her salad to give her a chance to think about the offer. When she finished she knew that accepting this position would go a long way to keeping the peace. So after a moment's hesitation, she agreed to be Relena's running partner. The other blonde had smiled and dusted off her hands and rising from her seat.
"Good, now hurry up and finish your lunch. We have a press conference to go do."
"What!!"
"Yes. I called a press conference to let the public know about your choosing to be my partner."
"You mean you knew I was going to agree to this?"
"No, actually I though you were going to decline. If you had, I would have asked Lucrezia Noin to be my partner."
"But, but but, I'm not dressed for a press conference."
"Don't worry. It is better that the public see you the way you are and not as a Baroness"
Sylvia gawked as Relena helped her to her feet. Together the two women had headed for the closed door only to find that Relena's bodyguard had beat them to it and was exiting the room before them. In the elevator to the conference, Heero had told Sylvia that now that she was running, Sylvia would have Preventors agents assigned to protect her 24 hours a day 7 days a week. Sylvia had nodded while in a daze but she was still alert enough to catch her partner's frustrated grimace at her bodyguards' words.
Before she could ask Relena about the grimace, the double doors in front of the trio had opened into a room thick with reporters and bright with camera flashes. The time for questions had passed.
*End Flashback*
Now fully dressed, Sylvia headed down the curving staircase on her way to breakfast. Waiting at the foot of the grand staircase was Thomas, the elderly butler who had been a staple here when her late father was a baby. Slightly older than his friend Pagan, Thomas had a slight frown on his face and Sylvia knew that her grandmother was not alone in the dining room.
"Good morning Baroness. I do hope you had an enjoyable night's rest. Your grandmother and her guest are waiting for you in the dining room.", said the butler; her closest friend in the mansion.
"Guest, pray tell Thomas, who is grandmother's guest?", asked Sylvia as she accepted the arm the butler extended out for her.
"A young diplomat by the name of Burnside has joined your grandmother in the dining room, Madam Noventa. Master Burnside seems to be well-mannered but I'm not sure about him. Be on your guard, baroness. I think your grandmother is angling to marry you off."
"So, the matching making game starts. I figured that once I was elected and appointed V.F.M. I would be besieged by such things. Gah, now I hate this even more."
As she entered the dining room still escorted by Thomas, one of his subordinates rang a small bell as the door opened and announced her arrival.
"Madam Noventa, Master Burnside may I present Sylvia Rene` Noelle Noventa; Thirteenth Baroness of the Noventa Barony."
Looking through the door and sighing at the formality, Sylvia caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man with an untrusting smile. Immediately on her guard as she entered, Sylvia reluctantly removed her arm from Thomas's and allowed the creep to escort her to her seat at the table. Once she was at her designated seat, the man (Whom, she had noticed, had tried to look down her dress as he walked her to her seat) pulled out her chair with a gallant flourish and letting her sit down before pushing it back under the table.
Sylvia thanked the man as she had been taught and then looked down the table to the elegant silver-haired woman at the far end.
Sophia Ophelia Noventa was a striking woman in her late sixties. Standing five foot ten inches tall with a nice face, the Eleventh Baroness of the Noventa Barony still turned heads and wielded vast amounts of power. However, unlike most women of power who threw their power about as if it were their right, Baroness Sophia kept her power hidden until the time was right. When it was, she wielded it like a homerun hitter swinging for the fences. Even today, dressed in a green velvet day dress with a matching shawl, the older woman shrewdly watched as her granddaughter studied the suitor she had chosen as if he was a bug under a microscope and she were a scientist. She sighed when Sylvia ignored the man and reached for the knife to butter her piece of toast.
"What is it with that girl? She didn't acknowledge any of the men invited last night and now she won't even acknowledge this one's presence. I need to find her a husband soon before the other ladies of status start to gossip.", thought Sophia.
Taking a sip from her porcelain teacup, Sophia signaled the butlers to bring in the meal. Since she hadn't been that hungry, she had asked that only a light breakfast be prepared If it wasn't for this Joachim Burnside stopping by to get an early start on courting Sylvia, Sophia knew she wouldn't have even bothered to have the cook prepare a meal. She would have taken it upon herself to cook breakfast.
"Good morning, Sylvia. Did you enjoy the ball last night?", said Sophia in a stately voice.
"Good morning grandmother. Yes I did enjoy it. Thank you for throwing it in honor of the election. Even though it was two weeks after the actual election, I am still grateful you threw it.", replied Sylvia.
"I am happy you enjoyed it. I wanted to have breakfast with you this morning to discus your future. Master Burnside here has requested my permission to court you and I have readily given it."
Sylvia shot her grandmother a dirty look that she ignored. Both women groaned when the look went unnoticed by the young man helping himself to the plate in front of him. Sophia frowned at his impatience while Sylvia rolled her eyes. Resigning herself to a stilted meal, Sylvia bent to the task of eating. Besides, she was hungry and she knew that her plans for the day required her to have a full stomach.
Twenty minutes later, Sylvia was finishing up her delicious repast and trying to unobtrusively escape the dining room and small talk that her grandmother reveled in. She noticed that the annoying young man sitting to her right seemed to enjoy talking with the elder baroness and had several bits of juicy gossip to share. During the course of the meal, Sylvia had stopped the diplomat's wandering fingers under the table numerous times. Finally a bit miffed at their continued hindrance, Sylvia had purposely jarred the table with her foot as the boring man reached for the crème thus causing him to spill it on his lap. With a false smile of contrition; Sylvia had apologized profusely for her 'supposed' error and attempted to leave the table. Her grandmother's stern voice had put the kibosh on that escape plan. Now surreptitiously looking at the dainty feminine watch on her wrist (another of Jan's unwanted touches, Sylvia preferred her normal everyday watch with its myriad of uses instead of this piece of flash.), Sylvia sighed. If this breakfast went on any longer she was going to be late. Luckily her grandmother caught the sigh and asked what was wrong.
"Nothing grandmother, I was just noticing the time."
Sophia was happy for the chance to interrupt the boy's monologue and had merrily seized upon the chance to shut him up. She knew that this would not be a good pairing, Joachim Burnside was too full of himself and Sylvia was bored out of her mind. Deciding to end the pitiful conversation before Sylvia resorted to something drastic (Sophia still remembered the time her granddaughter had thrown her plate and a full goblet at an obsequious man who presumed too much about her. That dinner had given Sophia a good laugh as she merrily had the rude man tossed out of the house), Sophia signaled the servants to remove the plates and utensils. Rising from her seat, glad that the peon diplomat had smartly pulled her chair out before going to pull Sylvia's out, Sophia asked Sylvia what her plans for the day were.
"Grandmother, I have that competition I entered today and I am a bit behind schedule. May I please have my leave so that I may prepare?"
"Yes you may. Please do tell me about it when you return. I hope you do pretty well."
"Thank you grandmother, we will talk when I return."
"I look forward to it, my dear.", finished Sophia as Thomas escorted her to her office.
Joachim Burnside had a dilemma: either he could follow the elder baroness and continue their conversation, or he could inquire as to the competition the younger baroness made mention of and offer to be her escort. Deciding to do the latter, Joachim asked Sylvia what kind of competition she was planning on attending.
Sylvia froze the glare that attempted to appear on her face at the incompetent fools' presumption. Changing the glare into a smile, she turned around and told him.
"Mr. Burnside, I am not observing, I am competing. The competition is the Earth Sphere United Nation's long distance shooting competition for the Khushrenada Cup. I am the number two lady's long distance shooter in the Earth Sphere. Today is the day I will try and win the cup and take over the number one ranking from the person who has it. She's retiring after ten years as the number one female shooter among the Colonies and Earth."
"Really, that is interesting. What is the longest you've ever hit the target?", asked Joachim.
Joachim fancied himself an expert shot (although anything past 500 yards he couldn't hit the broadside of a barn) and figured that Sylvia was nowhere in his league. He smirked but it fell when the current Baroness Noventa cleared her throat and burst his bubble.
"Master Burnside, Sylvia is accurate out to a thousand yards with a properly zeroed rifle. With one of her own personal weapons, I believe my granddaughter is accurate out to eleven hundred and fifty yards."
Joachim blanched as he mentally felt his pride go down the drain, while Sylvia turned an incredible red color and tried to hurry out of the room. Her grandmother had always known how to embarrass her. It didn't matter that her grandmother was slightly off. With one of her own lovingly cared for rifles, Sylvia was accurate out to almost thirteen hundred yards.
Sophia grinned, she knew that she had scored a devastating hit to Burnside's arrogance and zinged her granddaughter's own pride. She was very proud that Sylvia had taken to her own hobby of shooting. Sophia was a champion skeet shooter in her own right and with her husband, the late Marshall Noventa, had owned several shooting records and titles Recently, Sophia had been crowned the worlds all time greatest ladies skeet shooter for the seventh time. Although it had been a close run thing, Lady Une of the Preventors had given her a fight for the title and had only missed out by one and a half points. Une's adopted daughter, Mariamaia Khushrenada had scored her first title in her age group so Une hadn't gone home upset and had congratulated the older woman for a great match.
Taking her reserved right for the last word, Sophia glided out of the dining room to her office. Once in the familiar room, she closed the door and sat down in the very comfortable executive chair behind the huge desk her husband had owned and leaned back. Rotating the chair around to face the window to the expansive back yard, she looked at the numerous pictures scattered the room. Several were of her and her husband at different functions over the years. A few were of her with her children when they were young. There was one of her firstborn son (Sylva's father) when he was five hours old. There was another where a baby Sylvia sat contentedly in her grandfather's lap. Sitting in the place of honor on the desk was a picture that was fifty years old. It was a picture of Sophia and a then Lieutenant Noventa on their wedding day. Also sitting on the desk was pictures of the two of them wining several skeet shooting pairs championships.
Sighing, Sophia shifted her gaze to another picture. This one was of a twelve year old Sylvia winning her first shooting title. The preteen girl with the twin pig tails stood next to the table with her first place trophy and the rifle she had used to capture the title with. Around her neck was the first place medal that went with the trophy; beside Sylvia stood her grinning grandfather, Marshal Noventa. He had given Sylvia the championship winning rifle when she was but nine years old and had patiently taught her to shoot after the death of Sylvia's parents in an assassination attempt on the Marshal's life. Next to that picture frame was another frame of the grandfather, granddaughter team as the won the second annual Alliance Father,-daughter shoot.
Deciding to break out her antique shotgun for a bit of relaxing shooting later, the Eleventh Baroness of the Noventa Barony, started to go through the mail for correspondence she needed to answer. Her daughter's birthday was coming up soon and if Sophia didn't finish clearing her desk of the work that piled up, she would never get to visit her youngest child for Christmas.
Meanwhile, Sylvia was trying to get rid of the pain in the ass Joachim Burnside without resorting to force. She had started up the stairs to her room only to have the young gentleman painfully grab her wrist. Accepting the hold with gritted teeth, she shifted her arm so that the wrist lock caused her less pain and turned around so that she could favor her guest with an smile tinged with malevolence.
'Yes, Master Burnside. As you can see, I am in a slight hurry.", said Sylvia through gritted teeth.
"I understand, Baroness Noventa, will it be alright if you would join me for dinner later tonight? I would greatly appreciate it if you did."
Sylvia thought for a moment although she knew what her answer would be. She just wanted to give him the illusion that she was considering it. She waited for the ignoramus to release to release her wrist before answering the question.
For his part, Joachim was waiting for the answer. He had a feeling that he knew what it was going to be but there was still hope. He let go of Sylvia's wrist and straightened himself up and awaited her answer. Out of the corner of his vision he saw that the elderly butler had appeared and was standing slightly behind him.
"Thank you for the invitation, Master Burnside but I will have to regretfully decline tonight. I have some other plans for this evening. Now good day to you kind sir.", came the answer.
It took a minute to realize that he had been turned down for the first time in his life and he reacted without thinking.
Sylvia took a step but felt herself pulled back when the diplomat's hand again latched on to her wrist. Stopping her tumble with a hand on the wall, she whirled around prepared to dish out some pain of her own. Sylvia stopped when she saw that Thomas had everything well in hand.
Joachim was confused. One moment he was reacting to her words and reaching out for her wrist. The next he was on his back on the floor with a wicked pair of single-shot derringers pointing at his eyes in an unwavering manner.
"Master Burnside, I would hate to have to damage Madam Noventa's lovely white carpet by spilling your blood. Blood is a terrible thing to unwillingly spill all over the carpet and is an annoying stain to clean up. I believe that the young baroness dismissed you, Master Burnside. I will kindly escort you to the door but do not test my patience sir. Although I am aged, I am still an expert shot.", came the voice of the butler.
Joachim nodded and the two derringers disappeared into thin air. Accepting the proffered hand, he tried to exert a small amount of pressure to remind the butler of his standing in the household, only to find his attempt halted before it was even started. His hand was grasped in a grip of iron and it was slowly and inexorably exerting an amazing amount of pressure in its own right. Looking at the butler, Joachim saw that the old man was stronger than he looked at first. Accepting his defeat, he nodded and allowed himself to be lead to the door. At the door, Sylvia chimed in:
"It was nice meeting you Mr. Burnside. Maybe we can chat again later."
He wasn't going to answer but a not so gentle nudge with a pistol barrel changed his mind.
"Another time baroness, it was an honor to meet you."
Sylvia watched as the strutting peacock disappeared out of the door. Waiting for Thomas to reappear, she undid the button at the back of her dress above the zipper. When Thomas reappeared, she asked him to bring her car around to the front.
"And Thomas, did you have to scare the poor boy like that. I doubt if he had ever met one of grandfather's inner security circle before. By the way, where did you stash the pistol, Thomas? Even I didn't suspect you were carrying anything but your usual derringers.", asked Sylvia.
"Ahh Baroness Noventa, a true operative never gives away all his secrets.", answered the butler with a straight face.
Knowing that she wasn't going to get anything else out of him, Sylvia continued up the stairs to her room. Once behind her closed door, she unzipped her dress and kicked it off. Strolling over to her closet, she reached in and pulled out a forest green-long-sleeved shirt with a big leather patch on the right side. Carrying it over to the bed, Sylvia went over to her dresser and pulled a pair of matching corduroy jeans out and proceeded to slide them up her slim legs. Once the jeans were on but not fastened, Sylvia opened the second drawer of her dresser and pulled out a black t-shirt and put it on. Over the t-shirt she put the shirt on and adjusted it so that the padding under the leather was correctly positioned so that her rifle wouldn't cause a bruise when it recoiled.
When her shirt was fastened and tucked into her snapped, zipped, and belted pants, Sylvia went to her closet and pulled out her favorite pair of boots. The pair in question was a pair of comfortable fitted combat boots she had gotten from her grandfather shortly before he died. They were rugged and could take a beating. With the boots in hand, she returned to her dresser and pulled a pair of thick dark colored socks and carried them to the freshly made bed. At the bed, Sylvia sat down, dropped her boots on the floor, and proceeded to put the socks on and pull them up on her firm calves. Once the socks were on, Sylvia reached down and picked her right boot up. Loosening the laces, she slid her foot in with a minimum of trouble. Once the foot was situated, she tightened the laces from the bottom up before tying them at the top and letting her pants leg drape over the top of the well broken in footwear. The action was repeated for the left boot. Now fully dressed, the twenty-one year old woman rose from her spot.
Walking around her room, Sylvia reached to her right wrist and pulled the delicate watch off and placed it on her desk. Before reaching for the other watch sitting on the wooden room fixture, Sylvia looked at herself in the mirror and flashed herself a dazzling smile. Minutes later Sylvia walked out of her room with her shooting gear bag over her shoulder.
At the foot of the stairs, the vice foreign minister turned in the opposite direction of the dining room and headed for the family armory. Keying in her code, she waited for the two foot thick door to open on its silent hydraulic hinges. Once it was fully open, she entered and headed straight for the wall on the right side.
Now the Noventa family armory was divided into three sections. The wall on the left as you entered had belonged to Sylvia's parents and the transparent fireproof and bullet proof door was still locked shut. Sylvia couldn't open it if she wanted. The wall at the back of the vault held her grandparents many different shotguns. Only Sophia had the code to open that wall. The wall of the right side belonged to Sylvia herself. On the wall sat Sylvia's ten rifles. Many of the pieces in her collection were rare and hardly ever fired. In the place of honor at the top was the rifle she won her first tournament with. She only took it down when she was feeling nostalgic.
Going over to the open wall, Sylvia reached up and pulled down the brown bolt action rifle on the third row. Putting it on the metal table in the center of the room, Sylvia went back to the wall and reached up for another rifle hanging on the far side.
With her chosen weapons on the table, Sylvia keyed in the code to close the shutter-like transparent cover over her rifles. When the shutter was closed, Sylvia turned her attention to the two long weapons sitting on the table. Turning her attention to the bolt action rifle first, she did a thorough inspection to make sure it was unloaded and in the safe position. Picking it up and dry firing it a few times, Sylvia deemed it ready. She'd deal with the scope at the range. Laying the rifle down on the table carefully, she reached under the table and pulled out a hard carrying case. Sitting the case on the table she opened it, picked up the rifle and placed it on the soft foam lining being careful not to jar the scope from its mounting point. She had done that once before and the resulting variance had torpedoed her first chance to become the number five female shooter. She still mentally beat herself up over that screw-up.
Shifting her attention to the weapon sitting on the table, Sylvia sighed in appreciation. It had taken her forever to get this weapon and she had salivated over it when it had been delivered. The black metal looked menacing from the empty clip to the large matte black scope sitting on top of the receiver. Doing an even more thorough inspection of this rifle, Sylvia felt her blood race. This would be the first match she had used this rifle in and only the third time she had ever fired it.
Finished with her inspection, she placed it next to its sibling in the case and closed the lid. Snapping the latches and dialing in the combination, Sylvia turned to the ammunition locker by the door and opened it with her key. Seeing the rounds she needed for both rifles and picking out four boxes of them, she placed the boxes into her gear bag with two bottles of gun cleaner. Other things added to the bag were three extra eight round clips for the semi-auto rifle, an identical number of five round magazines for the bolt action rifle, her sight adjusting tools, numerous rags both clean and dirty, some patches for when she needed to clean the bore, her ear protectors, spotting scope, shooting glasses, and her gloves.
When the bag was full, Sylvia turned to leave the vault but not until she glanced at the wall that held her parents rifles and looked longingly at the huge rifle at the top of the wall. The weapon in question was beautiful to Sylvia. It was a bolt action that had a huge five round magazine hanging from the bottom. Sylvia had never gotten the chance to fire that monster and she wanted to. For the umpteenth time, Sylvia wished that her vault code had the authority to open the shutter on that wall. Just once did she want to caress that big behemoth of a rifle! The sound of a cleared throat brought her back to the present.
"Sylvia, you know I cannot and will not program the system to authorize the opening of that shutter upon receipt of your code until I think you are ready to handle that rifle.", said Sophia sternly.
Sophia had finished up with the majority of her correspondence and had decided to go do some shooting of her own. Going to the master bedroom on the ground lever of the house, she had changed into a pair of slacks and her own shooting shirt before heading for the weapons vault. Seeing the door standing open, Sophia had spotted her granddaughter again looking at the fifty caliber hunting rifle her father had cherished.
"I know grandmother. I just wish that I didn't have to wait so long. ", sighed Sylvia as she turned to face the elder Noventa Baroness.
No more words were spoken because at the time, Thomas had cleared his throat and mentioned that the younger baroness's, car was waiting out front. Sylvia thanked him and put on the jacket he held open for her before taking a hold of her rifle case and her gear bag and heading towards where her convertible sports car waited with its engine running.
"Good luck Baroness Sylvia.", stated Thomas as Sophia added her own good luck wishes to her granddaughter.
Sylvia said goodbye to them both and headed out champagne colored car.
The two adults watched as the young vice foreign minister climbed in the car after carefully placing the rifle case in the trunk and dropping her gear bag on the seat next to her. Sylvia pulled her sunglasses out from their space and settled them in front of her eyes before shifting into gear and pulling out of the circular driveway. With one last touch to the pendant at her neck, Sylvia pulled out into traffic and headed for the tournament range.
Across the town from where Sylvia Noventa was happily singing at the top of her lungs to while on her way to a shooting tournament, a dark-skinned twenty-one year old man was climbing into his own vehicle on his way to the same tournament. Dressed in black military cargo pants, highly polished black jungle boots, and a black polo shirt; Devon Tanisius looked at the sun and judged how the weather was going to affect his shooting today.
Standing six foot one inch tall with piercing brown eyes hidden behind his pair of prescription glasses where the lenses transitioned to the amount of light outside. Right now the lenses were almost opaque. Closing the door to his very secure apartment in a bad part of town, the thin yet muscular man pulled the remote unit out of his pocket and checked the screen to see the status of his seriously high tech alarm system before heading around the corner to the dirty jeep parked nose out.
Going around to the back of the jeep, Devon placed the case carrying his battle-scarred rifle in the back before taking a hold of the roll bar and swinging his body up and in to the driver's seat. Putting his key in the ignition, he started the jeep and let the engine run for a few minutes. As the engine idled, Devon reached under the dash and pulled out the twin handguns hidden there and placed them on the seat next to him.
If his neighbors knew who Devon Tanisius was, they would be suitably scared. Instead of the low level Preventors agent they thought he was, his neighbors (those that survived their own nosiness) would be scared that the nice solitary guy who didn't cause any trouble was in actuality the seventh Gundam Pilot.
Devon grinned at the though of what his neighbors would think if he was to reveal his true identity.
"Life wouldn't be dull around here anymore.", mused Devon as he put his jeep in gear and pulled out of his chosen spot.
During the wars, Devon had been the pilot of the Gundam Wildstar; the sniper mobile suit. Several kills attributed to either of the other five Gundams or the Tallgeese mobile suit were actually sniped from Devon's dappled black, blue, and brown mobile suit. In fact, one of the shots that hit Fortress Barge hadn't been fired by any of the other mobile suits. He had fired it and watched as the bullet aimed true and struck the station two seconds before the base's cannon had exploded from a 'supposed' power flux (he had caused that as well with another bullet that was off target.).
At the close of the last war, Devon and his guardian the mysterious Director Z, had salvaged all of the parts of the destroyed gundams of the other pilots. In a very secure and very well hidden abandoned colony sat the rebuilt Epyon, Wing Zero, Wing Gundam, Tallgeese III, Sandrock, Sandrock Custom, Heavyarms, Heavy Arms Kai, Deathscythe, Deathscythe Hell, Altron, and Shenlong, Gundam mobile suits. At another location in another abandoned colony sat his Wildstar Custom mobile suit with is signature long rifle. After rebuilding the suits and installing the deadly Zero system into Epyon and Wing Zero, the colony had been shut down and again abandoned. However, Director Z and Devon had installed a rudimentary propulsion system and had moved the colony into the midst of a debris field where nobody would see it. Once their shuttle was away from the colony, the pair had committed the coordinates to memory, and wiped the shuttles' navigation systems memory. To further keep the secret, the colony's control module had been separated. Devon had gotten the module's inner workings while Director Z had gotten the module itself with its semi-functioning abilities.
Devon was told that if he were ever to receive the module case in the mail, he was ordered to reveal himself to pilot 01 as a gundam pilot and do anything possible to keep the suits from falling into the wrong hands. However, he was also ordered to not turn over the module for it had another secret. A secret only Devon knew.
The secret of how to activate the most deadly mobile suit system in existence; the secret to the Wildstar's combat system: The Sigma System, an upgraded version of the Zero System and as such, even more deadly to the pilot than the Zero System.
The Sigma System did everything the Zero system did except it was enhanced exponentially. Not only did the pilot have to fight the hallucinations that the Zero System caused, he had to deal with the fact that the system chose the correct course of action no matter how hard the pilot fought it. And in the whole of the ESUN, there was only one pilot who had mastered the Sigma System.
Devon Tanisius., the pilot of the Seventh Gundam.
Once the idle of his jeep had settled, Devon shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. Cruising through the city, the young man thought back to the invitation he had received in the mail a week or so back. At the time, he was relaxing after a hit he had done at the request of Director Z. The hit hadn't been that complicated, it was just escaping that had been complicated. For the first time in his long sniping career, Devon had been spotted as he had taken the shot and the noisy bastard had pointed out exactly where Devon was holed up, thus reducing Devon's usual gloating time from the usual ten minutes to less than five. The resulting gunfight in the deserted hallways of the abandoned hotel had ended up with ten rebels dead, two seriously wounded, another eight arrested for terrorism. Devon had ended up with three superficial wounds, an annoying bullet hole in his leg, and a non serious lower abdomen wound that he had to come up with a credible story for his superior when he returned from the 'vacation'.
As he had recuperated in his apartment, Devon had noticed the envelope asking him to be a judge for the tournament. At first he had refused but Director Z had suggested he accept the invite if he was allowed to do a long distance shooting exhibition. The committee had readily agreed and a couple of days after he had changed his mind, a package arrived by courier at Devon's apartment. When he had opened the plainly wrapped case, Devon was surprised to see one of his sniper rifle cases. The rifle in question had arrived in a scratched up dull green case. When he had opened the case, one of his four .50 caliber rifles was nestled inside.
He admired his rifle for a minute before lifting it out of the case and inspecting it to see what shape it was in. At first he was happy to have one of his favorite rifles, that happiness was soon tempered by the nearly decrepit condition of the rifle. The barrel was dented in numerous places; the stock was scratched in some place and had cracks in others.
Devon had shaken his head in frustration and carried the rifle over to the old table sitting in his small dining room and proceeded to clean up the outward appearance. Temporarily repairing the smaller cracks and leaving the other damage to a professional, Devon had regretfully sent his rifle to be repaired. For a week and a half it was out of his hands and he hated it. The Preventors had few fifty caliber rifles and he spent the majority of the week taking out his frustrations on the range with the ones they had in the armory. Unfortunately all of them had problems and his groupings weren't as tight as he was used to.
His rifle had returned from the shop two days before the tournament and Devon had spent the entire previous day sighting it in and doing the personalizing that brought it up to the accuracy he preferred. By his strict instructions, the gunsmith had kept the semi-shabby look but had custom built a barrel to withstand the rigors of repeated firings of its fifty caliber ammunition.
Now driving through the city with his favored rifle in the back of his jeep, Devon was in one of his rare good moods. Doing the speed limit while keeping alert, Devon enjoyed the cool breeze flowing through the open top jeep. Devon grinned in a carefree manner. The grin faltered a bit when his stomach growled in anger.
"Yeah, I know. You're empty and need to be filled. Lets stop someplace and get some fuel for both you and the jeep.", he told his recalcitrant stomach.
Pulling into the first fast food restaurant he came too, Devon ordered a pair of burgers and a large juice to wash them down. When he had paid for his food, he had pulled out of the drive through and continued on his way. As he drove, Devon ate his burgers and drank half of his juice. He finished up the drink as he was pulling into the parking lot of the range at the edge of town.
Choosing a spot and puling in, Devon shut down his engine, hopped out of the jeep, and grabbed his rifle case as he went to sign in. Walking up to the table, Devon found on of the competition organizers.
"Good morning sir. How may I help you?"
"My name is Devon Tanisius and I am supposed to judge the long distance open category. After that, I'm supposed to give an exhibition on extreme long distance shooting."
"I see. Well Mr. Tanisius, all you need to do is sign right here and head on in. Here's your officials nametag and judging clipboard. The open class will be setting up on range nine in about twenty minutes. For your exhibition, you will be using range seventeen. It has a distance of 1800 yards. The exhibition will be around five o'clock after the medal ceremony. Welcome to the competition sir."
Devon accepted his clipboard, nametag, and other judging paraphernalia. Shifting the conglomeration to the hand holding his case, Devon thanked the official. He had a frown on his face after hearing the length of the range he would be using for his exhibition. It was a bit short for his planned demonstration.
"Dammit, I need a range with a minimum length of 1900 yards, especially when my target will be at 2100 yards. I hope there is someone I can talk to either find a longer range or reposition my target at the correct distance."
Deciding to wait till later to find somebody to talk to about the length of range seventeen, Devon went to put his rifle away in the area provided. Once that was done, he grabbed his judging equipment and headed over to range nine to see some of the people he would be judging on accuracy and precision.
Over on range nine, Sylvia had set up her semi-automatic rifle and was attempting to zero it in on the distant targets. After arriving an hour or so before, Sylvia had signed in and gotten her range assignments for both classes she was competing in. Once her bolt-action rifle was sighted in, Sylvia had taken the time to peruse the program. She was intrigued by the extreme long-distance shooting demonstration that was going to be given and planned to be in the front row for that event.
Putting her plans for later in the day in the back of her mind, Sylvia took a deep breath and rotated her selector switch from 'safe' to 'fire'. Taking another breath, she sighted on the target 800 yards downrange.
When she was sure of the sight picture Sylvia exhaled and put her finger on trigger. Taking in a third deep breath, she released half of it and started applying pressure on her trigger. Midway through the exhalation of the remaining breath, Sylvia felt the rifle buck against her shoulder as it fired the well aimed round.
Lifting her head from the weapon and lowering her hand, Sylvia shifted her head so that she was looking at her target through the spotter's scope.
"Hmm, that was a pretty good shot if I do say so myself. Let me go ahead and get this zeroing in finished so that I can stretch a bit and head over to range two and prepare for the women's shooting competition.", said Sylvia to herself.
Returning her head to her rifle scope and taking her position again, Sylvia quickly fired off the remaining nine rounds to complete her zero session. Looking through the spotter's scope again, she saw that her groupings were still pretty good and decided to leave her scope settings as they were. Sylvia was about to climb up from her prone position when a voice came from above and behind her.
"You need to adjust your windage a slight bit; the wind will be coming out of the southeast at around 7 knots. If you leave your settings the way they are now, your groupings won't be as tight as they are now."
Sylvia scrambled to her feet while dusting her jeans off with her hands. Turning her attention to the owner of the voice, she saw his judges' nametag and groaned. She really didn't want to get into an argument with a judge before her competition in the open class. He could really screw up her chances of winning if she did.
"Why do you say that?", asked Sylvia.
"The forecast said that the wind was going to shift early in the afternoon. The open class competition will just have started when the wind shifts and conditions won't be optimal for the settings you've chosen."
Sylvia nodded and mentally made plans to change her settings before taking her first shot. Taking another look at the young man, she asked if he wanted to join her for a quick drink or so after the competition. Devon declined but agreed to walk with her over to the refreshment stand for a bottle of juice. Five minutes later the two were enjoying their drinks when the P.A. system called for all competitors in the ladies class.
"Well, sir it was nice meeting you. I do hope to see you again later and I definitely plan on being there for your exhibition. By the way, I did not get your name?"
"It's Devon, Devon Tanisius. What about yours?"
"I'm Sylvia Noventa, Mr. Tanisius."
Devon's mouth threatened to drop as he shook Sylvia's hand and it took all of his training to keep it from doing so. He was talking to the new Earth Sphere United Nation Vice Foreign Minister. This was a surprise to him. Like everyone else in the ESUN, Devon had known that Sylvia Noventa had been elected to the position of VFM; however he hadn't been expecting that the new vice foreign minister was a shooting aficionado.
"This is interesting. I guess I'll have to put this bit of info in my mental folder.", thought Devon.
Regaining his composure and tossing it off, Devon followed Sylvia from the concession stand as she headed for range two. When she arrived at her range, he stayed for a few minutes before heading off to zero in his rifle. With his back turned, Devon didn't know that Sylvia had turned and watched him walk off.
As she left the stand, a sixth sense had told Sylvia that she was being followed. It took several quick glances behind her to see who it was. Recognizing the judge she had just talked to, he relaxed although another part of her mind wondered how he was so good at figuring out when she was going to turn her head to look. She only saw him because he happened to get caught up in a short conversation with another official.
"Damn he is good. I wonder how he got to be so good at following people. His bearing says that he was a soldier during the war, but it is improbably because he is around the same age as I am. I know it isn't impossible just look at the Gundam pilots; the five of them are around my age as well. So I wouldn't; count it out about him though.", mused Sylvia as she walked towards range two.
As she got nearer to the range, Sylvia's thinking switched from curiosity about Devon Tanisius and what he did during the wars, to how to welcome home Foreign Minister Yuy and her husband along with Crown Prince Peacecraft and his wife. The two couples had managed to keep their honeymoon plans very secret the only people who knew were the head of the Preventors and Sylvia herself and Sylvia's knowledge of the plans had been kept below the radar that the press didn't know that she knew.
The Vice Foreign Minister chuckled at the memory of two unlucky tabloid reporters who managed to hack the Preventors files trying to find the info they wanted. However, they had been caught and sentenced to two years in prison. They would have found out if the Preventors hadn't gotten an anonymous email that alerted them to the attempt by the reporters. The tip off had galvanized the force and their two best hackers, Hilde Maxwell and Midii Barton, had traced the attempt. Sylvia had been in Preventors Headquarters when the two had been brought in after a midnight raid by Preventors Chang and Maxwell.
Lady Une had called a press conference that day and paraded the two nosy reporters in front of their coworkers before appearing as her alter ego, Colonel Une and ordering that the press leave well enough alone or she would have her people confiscate every piece of equipment from printing presses to pencils at from ever last news company if they were caught attempting to find out very classified information.
"Hmm, Relena, Heero, Miliardo, and Lucrezia arrive the day after tomorrow from their honeymoons. What should I do to welcome them back? I know they would want their friends to be there along with Lady Une and Marimaia. I also know that they would want it to be low profile with no press but I need to do something. I know. I'll have them picked up at the airport and helicoptered to my house where I can have them chauffeured to the palace. Yeah. I'll have Thomas get in touch with Pagan tonight and set it up. In fact, I can probably get them to enjoy breakfast at Noventa Manor."
Sylvia arrived at range two and pushed her plans out of her mind for the time being and shifted her concentration to the matter at hand.
Over on range seventeen, Devon was zeroing his rifle in and enjoying the feel as the big weapon kicked against his shoulder with every shot. Right now he was getting his scope adjusted to the distance he planned to shoot at for the exhibition. Ignoring the people behind him and those in the galley below his rifles location, Devon fired shot after shot into the target 6600 feet down range. He was about to empty his second clip when his personal communicator went off; surprising him and causing him to jerk his weapon off target just as his trigger broke. Frantically trying and failing to get the unwieldy rifle back on target, Devon swore as he saw through his scope that his round hit way off the mark.
"Dammit!!! Who is calling now?", cursed Devon as he pulled the communicator out of his pocket and looked at the number.
Seeing that it was the number from Lady Une at Preventor headquarters, he swore again. Knowing that he had to answer the phone or risk another reprimand from the Colonel (he hated those. The last one he got from Une had him seething for three days straight all because one of his fellow Preventor snipers had bungled his orders badly and almost gotten the ESUN President assassinated. Luckily after the bitch and moan session, Director Z had alerted him to a hit that was definitely needed.)
"Preventor Tabris, what do you need commander?", Devon asked.
"Preventor Tabris, we just received word that the Foreign Minister Yuy and Crown Prince Peacecraft will be arriving early Monday morning. This is an alert for you to get together with your teams and have them set up for the arrival. I need you and your six best teams here tomorrow afternoon for a briefing. I have to get in touch with Vice Foreign Minister Noventa and find out what she plans to do for Relena's arrival. Think your teams will be ready?", asked Une in her OZ soldier tone of voice.
"Yes ma'am. I'll get in touch with my team leaders tonight and will have them present for the brief tomorrow."
"Good. Now all I need to do is find Sylvia Noventa.", mumbled Une.
"Commander, I can get your message to the VFM. She's a competitor at the shooting competition where I'm judging and giving an exhibition. What do you want me to tell her?"
Une grinned but it was hidden behind her hands. She knew all about Devon Tanisius and his shooting. Two weeks previous he had been in a major funk about something. She had gotten a report from Wufei Chang about the complaints Devon had forwarded to the armory about the condition of several .50 caliber sniper rifles. Chang had reported that the armorer had came to him in a rage about Preventor Tabris' reading him the riot act about the maintenance of the rifles that had barely nearly come to blows. Calming the infuriated man down, Wufei reported that he had sent the armorer for an early lunch then went to confront the pissed off agent on his own. Arriving at the outdoor long distance range, Wufei had been astounded at the accuracy that the man in question was putting his shots in a paper target 1950 yards down range. Une grinned again as she remembered Changs' words that day after witnessing the feat.
"That man can possibly outshoot Zero at the distance he was shooting at with rifles that weren't zeroed in. I can not believe it."
Unknown to the man on the other end of the line, Une had gone down and seen him shoot for herself. She was impressed with his first five shots. However when he proceeded to put the next forty shots in the same target with less than an eighth of an inch between them, she had quietly gotten him transferred to the sniper division of Preventors as the senior team leader, jumping three senior agents in the process.
Now talking with him, Une told Devon to relay her message to Vice Foreign Minister Noventa. Devon agreed and the two cut the connection but not before Une heard several grumbled comments of her timing.
For his part, Devon put the unit back in his pocket and took a look at his target through the spotter scope and sighed.
"Well it isn't too far off but it's still too far for my liking."
Putting his weapon on 'safe' Devon took a step back and stretched. Leaving his chosen spot, he looked at his watch and noticed that the ladies long distance competition was in progress. Grabbing a pair of binoculars, he slipped them around his neck and headed in the direction of the range. Letting his hand linger on the piece of leather around his throat, Devon took off.
On range two, Sylvia was frustrated. Her first two shots had hit the target but had been so far apart she could put her hand between them. With her eye still at the scope, she reached up with her left hand and adjusted the windage knob on top of the scope and adjusted for a slight wind flurry. When that was done, her next two shots were right where she put them. However, Sylvia knew that if she was going to win the coveted number one spot, her shooting in this class and the open had to be spot on. Otherwise she would have to wait until the spot opened when the number one retired. She didn't want to do that. Sylvia wanted to win the title and ruin the ladies unbeaten streak.
"Come on Sylvia, you can do better than that! Your next shots could very well decide this match. The other lady has had her problems as well, but she has been able to correct her aiming point to make her groupings closer. You've out shot her a few times before, you can do it again! Just concentrate on the next shot.", Sylvia's consciousness told her as she readied herself to pull the trigger again.
Stilling her thoughts, Sylvia blanked her mind until the only thing that remained in it was paper target 1000 yards downrange. As she did so, Sylvia felt the hairs on her neck stand up and knew she was being watched by someone but didn't know who. Putting it out of her mind, she went back to concentrating on her trigger squeeze.
Behind her, Devon watched as the Vice Foreign Minister shook off what had disrupted her concentration. He mentally applauded Sylvia's dedication to the job at hand. Moving to the front of the crowd of onlookers, Devon stood where he could see both Sylvia and the other woman on the firing line and study their techniques.
For the next ten minutes the shots were heard over the background noise as each lady on the firing line fired their rifles. When the sound of the last shot died down, the officials in the tower behind the firing line called for the women to safe their weapons and step away from the line. Seeing Sylvia step away from her rifle after pulling the bolt back and leaving it open and flipping her rifles safety to its 'safe' position, Devon used his official's badge and stepped into the restricted area so he could pass on Colonel Une's message.
After making her rifle safe, Sylvia got up from her prone position and stretched. Going over to the table where there was some water, she grabbed two cups and proceeded to join the circle of female shooters and listen to some of their complaints.
Upon joining the circle, Sylvia noticed that she was standing next to the number one female shooter in the whole Earth Sphere. As usual, the lady was answering questions from the other lower ranked ladies and passing out advice. She saw Sylvia and nodded a greeting as she answered a question asked by the woman ranked fifteenth in the ESUN. Sylvia saw it and returned the greeting with a nod of her own as she drank her water.
As she finished her first cup of water and deposited the paper cup in the garbage can, Sylvia answered a few questions that were asked of her and asked a few questions of her own. Several of the questions directed at Sylvia from the other ladies were about her rifle and where she had gotten it from. It was as she was answering another one of those questions when somebody tapped her on the shoulder. Turning around, she saw that it was the judge she had been walking with earlier. Remembering his name, she nodded at him.
Devon saw the nod and returned it before leaning in and giving Sylvia the message.
"Vice Foreign Minister Noventa, Lady Une just called and ordered me to pass on the message that the Yuy and Peacecraft families will be arriving early Monday morning and she wants to know if you have anything planned for them."
"I do have something in mind for them but I'll have to get in touch with their butler to see if I can pull it off.", answered Sylvia slightly surprised that Devon was a Preventor.
"I really hope to god that he wasn't assigned as my bodyguard. I was told that I would meet my Preventers on Monday after Relena got back in. Heero told me that he would assign the best agents he could to be my bodyguards.", thought Sylvia as she watched the tall gentleman head back to the crowd.
Unknown to Sylvia, her competitors had been watching the man as he had conversed with Devon. Returning her attention back to the group in front of her, Sylvia saw that several of the ladies were openly leering at Devon's back as he walked away. Three of them had predatory gleams in their eyes and it took Sylvia seconds to realize what those speculative gleams meant. Annoyed, Sylvia rolled her eyes.
"Knock it off you guys. We have other things we need to concentrate on than him. He was just doing his job and giving me a message.", the VFM snapped as she rejoined the group of chattering ladies.
"True, but he is a fine specimen of man. I wouldn't mind having him pull my trigger anytime, anyplace.", one of the ladies lecherously commented.
Several of the women nodded in agreement at the words that hung in the air. Two of her competitors play swooned to the delight of their competitors while several of the other ladies fanned themselves as if they had suddenly gotten hot. Even the one person ahead of her in the rankings had an appreciative gleam in her eyes as she watched the official disappear.
Sighing in frustration, Sylvia crushed her empty second cup and threw it into the garbage can before abruptly leaving the giggling conclave of hormonal women. Turning one last time to face her competitors Sylvia told them in no uncertain terms what she thought of women who let their concentration be broken by the appearance of one guy.
"And I thought those ladies were serious about this competition. One moment they were focused on their shooting. The next their all drooling over Devon Tanisius just because he brought me a message from Colonel Une. Damn them.", fumed Sylvia as she headed back to her position.
Reaching her rifle, Sylvia checked with the official and found out that she could retrieve her rifle and return it to its case. Shaking the woman's hand, Sylvia knelt down and inspected her weapon to make sure it was empty. Picking up her empty clips and returning them to her shooting bag, she centered her thoughts. Once the clips were out of the way, she then began to police up the shell casings she had ejected after each shot. Two minutes and twenty shell casings later, Sylvia was finished cleaning up and reached down for her spotting scope. Capping both ends of the scope, she picked it up and gently placed it in her bag. She didn't want to jar her settings for it even though this part of the competition was over.
Once the scope was nestled securely in the bag, Sylvia bent down one more time and gently picked up her weapon and carried it over to the table where she had her case stored. Placing the rifle in the case, Sylvia closed and locked it. Since she had about an hour and a half before the next phase of her competition, she decided to find a quiet place so that she could clean her rifle. After a quick conversation with one of the officials, Sylvia shook his hand and left the area.
While Sylvia was looking for a place to clean her rifle away from the hustle and bustle, Devon was on the phone to his assistant team leader.
"Good afternoon Eagle. How are you doing today?", asked Devon when his assistant answered the phone.
"Hey, it's the boss Preventer Tabris! How is it going, my friend?", asked the older agent.
Devon grinned as he saw the ever present cup of hot coffee in his friends' hand. No matter what time of day or night and no matter the temperature; Preventer Eagle could always be found with a big cup of coffee in his hand. Devon wondered how the man could drink so much coffee, because he couldn't stand the stuff.
"Well Eagle, everything is going fine; will be judging an open long-range shooting competition in about 90 or so minutes. After that, I gotta deal with the awards ceremony and then give an extremely long distance shooting exhibition with my 'light fifty'. After that I am free for the day.", stated Devon as he sat down at a table and watched the crowds go by.
"That's good. I hope you have a fun time officiating that competition. And I know you will have fun giving an exhibition with that big behemoth of a rifle of yours.", chuckled Eagle as he put his cup down.
"Thanks friend. I will do both. Wish you were here so you could do an exhibition of your own. You're the best shooter with open sights on the team. And there are several times your expertise came in handy."
Devon liked Eagle. They got along real great and were good friends on the job and off. There had been many a time where Devon had been either flustered or melancholy and the older agent had pulled him out of his funk. Eagle had always been there with some good advice, a kind word, or a noxious steaming cup of coffee to help put things in perspective. Devon also remembered the times he had shared dinner with Eagle and his caring wife.
Bringing his attention back to the conversation at hand, Devon listened to what the elder Preventer was saying.
"Even though I appreciate you calling me, I have a feeling that this isn't a social call.", stated Eagle, all the joviality out of his voice.
"Yeah, you're right as usual Eag. I got a call from the Bosslady not to long ago telling me that she needs six teams ready for work early Monday morning. It seems that the Foreign Minister and the Crown Prince well be returning with their spouses and she wants sniper team coverage. I need you to pick the six best teams and have them show up at Headquarters tomorrow morning for a briefing. Hopefully by then we'll have the information on what the VFM is going to do for her bosses' return."
Eagle shook his head.
"That's going to be a tough one. You know how the crew likes their Sundays off? I'll see what I can do."
"Yeah I know but it has to be done. Who do we have that we can use?"
"Let me go over my records. I'll get back to you in a minute."
"Alright call me at this number; I should be here unless I'm already judging."
"I will. You'll have to tell me how the competition and exhibition went."
"I will, Eagle. That is the first thing on my to do list when I see you again.", chuckled Devon as he broke the connection after seeing his friend already hard at work checking the team availability schedule.
Finished with that, Devon looked at his watch. His stomach was telling him it was time to grab some food. Looking around for and spotting a concession stand, Devon went over and ordered a burger and fry combo with a large soda. Paying for his food, he took his tray over to a semi-secluded booth that gave its inhabitants a panoramic view of three of the rifle ranges. Taking a bite out of his Triple bacon Cheeseburger, Devon grinned and watched the crowds go by.
Twenty minutes later, Devon finished his meal and got up from his seat. Placing his garbage in the proper receptacle, Devon took a lengthy sip from his soda before exiting the concession area. Deciding to get a good look at range nine while it wasn't being used, Devon headed in that direction. After a five minute walk, the Preventor arrived at the range. Climbing the stairs to the range tower, Devon entered the room and saw two of his fellow officials. Introducing himself to the other officials, Devon picked up the binoculars and glanced at the targets downrange. Nodding to himself Devon was satisfied at the level of difficulty and distance of the targets from the firing line.
"Looks like the competitors will have a challenge today.", stated Devon as he lowered the binoculars from his eyes and replaced them on the table.
"Yeah, this is going to be good competition. Especially since we have a developing battle in the ladies rankings.", said the blonde official with the cup of coffee in his hand.
"Really; what kind of battle in the ladies division?", asked Devon as he turned from the window.
The other official answered the question.
"It looks like the second ranked female shooter in the ESUN is making a play for the top spot. Everyone knows that the top ranked lady is retiring this year. If nobody takes her spot before she retires, the number one spot will be open."
"That is interesting, very interesting. How close is the number two from the number one?", asked Devon as he stroked his chin contemplatively.
"Well as of today, the two were separated by thirty points. However, with the unofficial results from the earlier class, they are dead even. This is the make or break competition. Whoever comes out of this match on top gets the gold."
Devon nodded and thanked the two for telling him before leaving the building and climbing down the stairs. At the food of the steps, he met a couple other officials and conversed for a few minutes before leaving the range and heading for the exhibition range where his weapon waited where he left it. After rechecking his zero point with a quick glance through both the spotting scope and his own scope, Devon nodded to himself and headed back to range nine for the official's pre-match meeting.
While Devon was doing that, Sylvia had found a table to perform her rifle cleaning tasks and was setting her cleaning utensils out. Around her sat several of her competitors both male and female. The area Sylvia was presently in was a kind of lounge for the participating competitors. It was where they relaxed between rounds, cleaned weapons, networked with other shooters, and just hung out when not competing.
After getting her space set up, Sylvia sat down and started to disassemble her rifle so she could get it cleaned. Looking around she spotted the seven and tenth ranked female shooters flirting with a couple of their male counterparts over on the couch in the sitting area. Across from them and watching the television screen was the woman who was ranked fifth and her third ranked husband critiquing the others performance. Seeing the closeness shared by the two, Sylvia sighed and wished she could find someone who shared her passion for shooting. Turning her attention back to her cleaning, Sylvia bent to her task and lost herself in her work.
So lost in thought as she cleaned her rifle, Sylvia didn't notice when the top ranked female shooter sat down next to her and proceeded to clean her own rifle. It was only after the other woman had cleared her throat that Sylvia realized that she had company. Glancing over at the older woman, Sylvia was a bit taken aback but she quickly regained her composure and greeted the other lady politely.
"Thank you Ms. Noventa. When I sat down you looked to be deep in thought."
"Yes I was, I apologize for my rudeness, Mrs. Romaine. I was thinking about how the next part of the competition was going to go."
"You did not have to snap at the other ladies back there like you did. If you didn't know it, it made you seem possessive of the official to the rest..", stated Mrs. Romaine as she disassembled her rifle.
Sylvia sighed; this was one subject she did not want to talk about.
"Possessive, why did what I said make me sound possessive? If the other girls want him, they can have him. He was just giving me a message from the head of the Preventors. I only met him today when I was zeroing in my rifle on the other range."
"Do you know what you sounded like when you said that? You sounded like a woman jealous of the way other women talk about her boyfriend. You took offense where none was intended. The other girls saw your reaction and ran with it."
Sylvia was stunned and it showed on her face. Here was Mrs. Romaine, a 46 year old married woman telling Sylvia that she liked a man she had only met once. Sylvia shook her head and snorted in amusement. The older lady had another thought coming if she believed her words were meant to break Sylvia's concentration for the upcoming open class competition.
"If she thinks I'm going to give up on my chance to take her #1 ranking just because she talks about a guy I only just met today, then she's delusional and needs to retire.", thought Sylvia as she finished up her cleaning choirs and put her rifle away in its case.
Clicking her case shut and setting the lock, Sylvia rose from her seat. There was still a little bit of time left for her to grab a bite to eat before her next competition. Thanking Mrs. Romaine for her words, Sylvia left the participants lounge after placing her weapon in one of the lockers for the competition participants.
As Sylvia disappeared into the crowd, she didn't notice the look on Mrs. Romaine's face.
"You can keep fooling yourself right now, Ms. Noventa. But there will come a time when your feelings for that man will come out. I just hope you aren't stupid enough to let too much time go by before your realize your folly.", thought Mrs. Romaine as she finished up cleaning her own rifle.
Sighing in resignation, the older woman offered up a smile for clouds before leaving the lounge and heading in the direction of range nine. She had a title and a #1 ranking to protect.
While this was going on, the ignorant subject of the conversation had just received a call from his friend and fellow Preventors' sniper.
"Hello, oh hey, Eagle. You got the teams chosen for the meeting?", asked Devon as he answered his communicator and saw the familiar easygoing eyes of Preventor Eagle.
"Yeah, how is the competition going? You do any judging yet?", asked the older agent as he took a sip from his ever present battered coffee cup.
"Not yet, my friend but it is almost that time. In fact, after I finish talking to you I have to head in that direction to get ready. Saw the VFM earlier. She's a helluva shot.", answered Devon as he leaned against a pole and adjusted his glasses.
"Really, I didn't know that Sylvia Noventa was a shooter. How good is she?"
"I don't blame you, Eagle. I didn't know it till today. And she is good, very good. Vice Foreign Minister Noventa is the number two ranked female in the whole Earth Sphere. She's gunning for number one today and if her scores from her earlier competition are any indication, there is a chance she may be Number One by the end of the day."
"And she's single; I think you caught yourself a live one there, Preventor Tabris."
Devon snorted, he had been expecting that. Preventor Eagle was always trying to get him to find ms. right and settle down. Each time Devon was visiting his friend for dinner, there was always some young unattached lady there waiting to meet him. Devon knew that Eagle's wife was trying to marry him off (She thought of Devon as a wayward son that needed a lady's touch to settle him down).
"Just because she shoots well, Eag doesn't mean that she's good for me. I have too many demons of my past that will not stay buried.", stated Devon in a serious tone of voice.
The man known as Preventor Eagle nodded and Devon watched as his eyes went to a slip of paper that was in his hand. Doing a last minute triple check of the names on the list, Eagle proceeded to give Devon a list of names for the six requested teams.
"Okay, I got four sniper/spotter teams that I hand picked for the detail on Monday. I've already called the affected personnel and given them their orders. Of course I know that you have final say but I think that the people chosen will suit your needs."
"Eag, I thought that I told that Commander Une wants six teams not four?"
"You did, but I know that you'd want to be a team so you're getting a spotter"
"I see but you're still one team short; and I don't want Une chewing my behind to pieces for not fielding the six teams she ordered."
"Devon….. Devon…. Devon, do you think that I would miss out on this? My spotter and I will be the requested sixth team."
Devon mentally groaned, he hadn't seen that one coming.
"Alright Eag, what teams did you get? And who's going to be my spotter?"
The older man chuckled as if he was about to unleash a practical joke of major proportion on his younger friend.
"Well, Team One is Cruiser and the Norse King of gods. Team Two is the nice lady with the hard right and her fellow hockey fan. Team Three is H-man and the DI Guy and Team Four is the newbie and the young gun."
"Hmm, he chose two Grey Ghosts, two Blue Banshees, one cool lady, and one nice guy with a canine nickname. Eag also chose a new guy and an unknown factor. Oh well, I can deal with that. I wonder who he got as my spotter?", mused Devon.
Nodding in agreement about the chosen people, Devon let Eagle know that he approved the choices. The next item on the agenda was the rifles chosen. It was a no-brainer that there would be at least one extremely long range rifle for Devon himself. The debate was the other weapons chosen. Eagle wanted at least two more rifles one class below the light fifty. That meant either a pair of .338's, a pair of .308's or a combination of one .338 and one .308; while Devon wanted a pair of 30.06's and no other extreme long range class rifle. They ended up compromising on one .338 and two 30-06 rifles. That left two teams left and Devon knew that he wanted Eagle with one of his open sight specials as one of those teams.
"Devon, you already have one extreme long range sniper, one semi-extreme long range snipers, and two medium range snipers. You don't need to add another medium range sniper; I'll already be on one of the medium range sniper teams. Devon you need three short range teams or extreme long range team and two short range teams.", stated Eagle, firmly.
Devon was unconvinced and said so. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was getting near time for him to report to range nine for judging.
"Look, Eag why don't we settle this at the meeting tomorrow? Lady Une will probably have what we need spelled out. We both know it's her choice on which weapons to use. Let's present both plans to her and see what she says."
"Okay, Tabris. Have fun judging the competition."
"I will, see you tomorrow Eag."
"See you tomorrow, Devon.", came the reply from the elder agent.
When his friend signed off, Devon cut the connection and replaced the phone in his pocket. Checking his watch, Devon saw that it was nearing the time for the open class competition to start. Ambling over to range nine, Devon saw that the rest of the officials, both range safety and judging, had arrived and were getting prepared for the competition.
As he approached the gathering of officials, Devon saw the male and female competitors receiving their group assignments. With some many participants in the open class, they had to split the shooters into two groups of fifteen competitors apiece. As his eyes roved over the gathered competitors, Devon spotted VFM Noventa off to the side with a slip of paper in her left hand. She seemed to be studying her assigned lane. Shrugging his shoulders, Devon turned and headed for his position behind the firing line.
Once the first group of male and female competitors stepped up to their lanes, the area around the range quieted down. The officials in the tower went over the range rules and regulations then introduced each competitor that was on the line to the audience. With some last minute instructions to all range safety officials and competition officials, the tower officials gave the order that all the competitors had been waiting for.
"Range clear on the right?", stated the tower official.
"Clear on the right!", came the reply from the right side.
"Range clear on the left?"
"Clear on the left!"
"Range clear in the middle?"
"Clear in the middle!", answered Devon as he gave a thumbs up to the tower.
"The shooting range is all clear. Okay contestants lets get it on!! Those of you with Semi-automatic weapons, rotate that selector switch to the correct position and Commence Firing!!", came the voice of the head official.
The exact second that they were cleared to shoot by the tower; a volley of shots rang out from the competitors and the open class long range Earth Sphere United Nations Shooting Competition started.
From her position in front of the tower on lane eight, Sylvia concentrated on the paper target 1000 yards downrange. Stilling her breathing like she had been taught by her grandfather, the second most important woman in the entire Earthsphere gently squeezed her trigger and sent her fifth shot down range. Mentally tabulating how many shots she had left before she could change magazine and recharge the weapon with eight more rounds, Sylvia relaxed a bit more. She knew that she needed to fire a total of fifteen to twenty rounds for her score to be official; therefore she planned to fire a total of twenty-four rounds so that she was sure her score would count.
"Three bullets left in this clip before I have to change and put the third and final clip in that I earmarked for this part of the competition. With my twenty-four shots, my score will be more than official. I just pray that those rounds are enough to push me into the number one ranking.", thought Sylvia as she fired another round down range.
When she fired her last round from the present clip, Sylvia safed her rifle and hit the release switch to release the empty magazine. Catching the empty clip with her free hand, she dropped the empty clip into her bag sitting slightly behind her. After she let go of the clip, Sylvia reached to her right and picked up her last magazine. With the expertise that comes with practice, Sylvia inserted the magazine into its designated spot and gave the bottom a light slap to properly seat the magazine. Once the magazine was locked in place, Sylvia chambered the first round. As she was doing that, she was looking through her spotters' scope to check her shots. Looking at her target downrange, Sylvia was satisfied with her progress up to the present point.
"I believe that I am doing pretty good right now and have the feeling that today may be the day I take over the number one spot. ", muttered Sylvia to her self as she brought her head down from the spotting scope to her rifle's scope.
While Sylvia was prepping to send the first shot from her last magazine down range, Devon Tanisius walked behind her and checked on the other four lanes in his area. In his role as judge for this facet of the competition, Devon was judging the firing positions of the five competitors in front of him. All five shooters, three women and two men, had elected to shoot from the prone position. A position he was very knowledgeable about since as a Preventor Agent and a Preventor sniper, he often chose the prone position himself when on protective assignment or a low level mission where some sniping was called for.
Noting that each of the competitors were all doing pretty well and seemed comfortable in the prone position, Devon shifted into his secondary officials role as a range safety official. So far, he hadn't had to stop the meet due to unsafe actions by his five nor had any of the other judges who had backup duty range safety official along with him.
While in the meeting with the other officials and judges, Devon had heard that an earlier preliminary competition had to be stopped because of actions by one of the other shooters. The way Devon heard it, the poor bloke had started out fine but as the match progressed he had gotten unsafe. Finally, after several warnings, the judge had been forced to raise his red flag and signal an unsafe condition on the range and brought the shooting to a stop. Once the competition had been halted, the competitor had been pulled off the firing line and disqualified from further competition. Of course this incensed the man to no end and he started to get belligerent and almost had to be forcibly removed. After a cooling off period, things had been explained and the gentleman had felt contrite and accepted a five match suspension plus a remedial weapons and range safety class given by one of the senior judges.
Walking back down the firing line, Devon stopped behind Sylvia and watched her shoot for a bit. His attention was focused downrange on her target and he was impressed at the poise that Sylvia had a she shot.
Deciding to get a closer look at her target, Devon brought his binoculars up to his eyes and focused them on the target the Vice Foreign Minister was looking at.
"Hmm, I'd say she's doing well. Majority of her shots are in the ten-ring with a few just outside in the nine ring ands three bull's-eyes dead center and on target. Ms. Noventa also has a couple of flier's that shouldn't affect her final score that much. She handled the wind shift better than I thought she would and made the slight adjustments needed.", thought Devon as he checked her target.
At that moment, the voice of the tower official came over his protective headset. Adjusting the microphone that was hooked into the headset so that it sat in front of his mouth but wasn't to close, Devon listened to the official.
"Tanisius how is everything down there?"
"Everything is fine sir. No range safety violations I can see.", answered Devon as he glanced at the safety official and received a nod as he listened to the tower as well.
"Good. Give me a status check on your shooters."
"Yes sir. Give me a minute to walk the line."
Looking up at the tower, Devon saw the thumbs up given by one of the tower officials and proceeded to check his five charges. Starting with the last lane of his five, he knelt behind each shooter and visually checked to see where each shooter was. Checking his list against what he saw, Devon saw that the lady in lane ten had in between five and ten shots left. Nodding to himself, he moved on to the next lane and saw that the competitor there was looking through his spotting scope and had taken his hands away from his rifle. Tapping the man on the shoulder, Devon quietly asked how many rounds he had left.
"I'm Winchester sir.", stated the man, signifying that his weapon was empty and he was out of ammunition."
"I see. Safe your weapon and lay it down. Remain on the firing line until told to move.", said Devon.
The competitor nodded as he kept checking his target Devon moved down to VFM Noventa's lane, he saw that she too was out of ammo and had ejected her last clip and was checking her target through her scope. Asking her the same question he had asked the shooter in the lane to her left, Devon went through the same spiel and visually double checked to make sure everything was done. Once that was done Devon continued on to lanes seven and six and checked their status. Getting favorable reports from the other two shooters, he moved back up to lane ten and watched as the competitor there fired her last couple of shots.
When she was done, Devon told her the same thing he had told the other four shooters. When she was finished, Devon rose to his feet and stepped back from the firing line. Making sure he was clear, Devon reported to the tower. Getting an acknowledgement from the official, Devon walked the line and checked in with his competitors again. Seconds after he finished, the range safety officer in the tower came over the range PA.
"Attention all shooters, this is the range coordinator. Cease fire. I say again, cease fire."
The shooting stopped and the coordinator came over the public address system again.
"Safe your weapons and take two steps back from the firing line to let the officials check your weapons. Officials, once you have checked weapons are on safe report back to tower."
Devon copied the transmission and waited for his five to rise to their feet and step away from the firing line. Starting from lane six, he picked up each weapon and checked its bolt and chamber for any unfired rounds. If he found one, he was to wave the range safety officer over to check while he notated it on his clipboard before clearing the weapon.
Going up his section of the range, Devon found that all bolts, chambers, and barrels were clear and conversed with the safety official for a minute. Once that was done, Devon listened to the safety coordinator in the tower.
"Right side, all weapons clear and safe?"
"All weapons clear and safe, right side!"
"Left side, all weapons clear and safe?"
"All weapons clear and safe, left side!
"Middle, all weapons clear and safe?"
"All weapons clear and safe, middle!", reported Devon as he raised the correct flag.
"All weapons clear and safe! Range is clear and safe. First Group; retrieve your weapons and step away from the firing line. You are finished for the day. Scores will be posted later. Congratulations and good luck to you all. All first group officials: report to the tower to turn in and tabulate your scores. Second group there will be a twenty minute break while the scored are tabulated. Prep your weapons and be ready to step up to the firing line."
Devon watched as the remaining fifteen shooters got ready to take their place. When the command was given for the members of the second group to step up to the firing line, Devon stood behind them. Once the rifles were in place, the two officials went and checked the weapons to make sure that the barrels, chambers, and bolts were clear and the weapons were safe. Satisfied that they were, Devon and the two other officials made their reports to the tower. Once all the reports were in and the weapons ready, the tower commanded that the firing line is to be cleared so that the officials could turn in their scores.
Devon conversed with his two fellow officials and the three took notes on their score sheets while conversing with each other and the range safety officials. Coming to a consensus, the three judges closed their clipboards and headed for the tower to turn in their scores. After turning in his scores, Devon returned to where the five shooters he judged were and chatted with them for a bit. After shaking hands all around, Devon talked to the shooters and asked them about how they thought the match was being run. Each commented that they were pleased and satisfied with how things were going and looked forward to the scores being posted.
"How do each of you think you did?", asked Devon.
All of them commented that they thought they did pretty well and believed that the scores would reflect favorably for them. Devon noticed the grimace that Ms. Noventa had given when she had answered his question and wondered what had gone wrong for her.
Sylvia was frustrated and the questions the judge had asked weren't helping things. Although she had given favorable answers, she knew that her second to last shot had hadn't hit where she had wanted to and she knew that it possibly had cost her the match and the chance to move up in the rankings.
"Dammit, I cannot believe that second to last shot had been a flier and had landed in the eight ring! What did I do wrong to cause that? It frustrated me so much that I rushed my last shot. Luckily it hit the line between the nine and ten rings and would be counted as a ten. However I believe that my chance for taking the number one ranking just went out the bloody window. Dammitalltohell!!", fumed Sylvia as she tried to find a way to quietly leave the conversation so she could fume in peace.
When the chat was over, Sylvia again thanked the judge and watched as he headed off for the tower. A part of her she didn't know existed admired the lean body walking away from her and she brutally squelched it. Sighing and letting her anger go; Sylvia picked up her shooter's bag and headed back to the lounge to clean her rifle and put it away while she waited for the scores to be tabulated.
Once all that was done, Sylvia grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in the participants lounge and dropped herself in one of the chairs in front of the monitor. Taking a sip from the refreshingly cool beverage, Sylvia propped her feet up on the couch and watched as the second group of the open class started shooting. Picking up the remote, she adjusted the view until she saw Mrs. Romaine taking her time and sending another round downrange. Glaring at the woman on the screen Sylvia studied Mrs. Romaine's form and tried to pick up tips to improve her own shooting. As she was watching, Sylvia heard a trio of women enter the lounge chatting among themselves about their scores. She recognized them as some of the women she had competed against earlier in the day. Apparently they had only entered that part of the competition and hadn't done as well.
"Did you hear about the tabulated scores for the first group of the open competition?", asked the one that sounded the youngest to Sylvia.
"No, I didn't Ashley, what about it?", asked the tall woman to the right.
"They were just posted just as the second group started and everyone was surprised.", answered the one called Ashley.
"What were they surprised about, did one of the men take first in group again?", asked the third member of the trio.
"No Mi-mi, Sylvia Noventa took first for that group. And everyone knows that Noventa is gunning for the top spot."
There was a stunned silence as the other two females digested that news. The unnamed one thought for a moment then asked about the score for the number one female shooter.
"She's out there shooting now, 'Lisha. I think the judges wanted to put those two in opposite groups. However, I think Noventa got the bad end of the deal. Since she shot first, all Mrs. Romaine has to do is beat Noventa's score and she'll remain ranked number one. "
"Really?,", came the voices of Mimi and the one named Alisha.
"Yeah, I just came from range nine and Mrs. Romaine was doing very well. I don't think that Noventa has a chance."
Hearing enough of the conversation, Sylvia jumped up from her seat and stormed over to the trio of girls and asked where the scores were posted so that she could see for herself that she had gotten first place in her group. The medium height blonde, Ashley, told Sylvia that the scores of the first group were posted on the back of the tower at range nine. Thanking the other woman, Sylvia left the lounge and headed for the tower at range nine. On the way there, she pulled her phone out and speed dialed her grandmother.
"Hello Grandmother, how are you doing?", asked Sylvia as she strode to range nine.
"I am fine my grandchild, how are you? Is the match over yet?", asked Baroness Sophia as she sat at her desk and finished up her correspondence.
"I'm okay and no the match isn't finished yet. I did not do that great in the first match I participated in but neither did Mrs. Romaine. As of now, we are tied for score. I just finished shooting in the first open group and thought I didn't do that good. However, I just heard that I took the top spot in my group."
"Really, that's good darling. What about Mrs. Romaine? How did she do in the open class?"
"She's shooting right now, grandmother. I heard she's doing pretty good as well. I just hope she makes one mistake."
"Why is that, Sylvia?"
"Because grandmother, if Mrs. Romaine makes one mistake, I believe that I have a very good chance of winning this tournament. Since we were tied going into the open class shoot, whoever wins this match, wins the spot."
"Well Sylvia I wish you good luck and hope you win. By the way, Sylvia; have you seen any good looking men out there?", the Eleventh Noventa Baroness asked her granddaughter.
"Grandmother, I'm Here To Shoot, Not To Husband Hunt!!", screeched Sylvia as her cheeks burned a bright fire engine red.
Sophia chuckled over the line and it made Sylvia blush even more. She could see the two spots of crimson on her granddaughters cheeks turn darker as the teasing hit home. Deciding to continue the teasing, Sophia commented,
"You can tell me, granddaughter. I won't tell anyone else. By the blush in your cheeks I can tell that one of the men out there caught your eye."
"He didn't catch my eye, grandmother. He just gave me some advice.", muttered Sylvia as she saw her grandmothers' eyes twinkle with merriment.
"Really, he sounds interesting."
"Grandmother, he was one of the judges. Plus he's also a Preventor so I couldn't date him even if I wanted to.", grumbled Sylvia as she tried to find a way to cut the connection politely.
"I see. If you're this flustered about telling me that he gave you some advice, he must have made an impression on you. Tell me what does he look like, is he cute?"
Sylvia shook her head in wonder. Sometimes her grandmother acted more like she was Sylvia's twenty-one years of age instead of her own late sixties age. It embarrassed Sylvia to no end when her grandmother openly flirted with men Sylvia's age at some of her formal gatherings. Unfortunately, Sylvia knew that she was going to have to answer the question if she wanted to get her grandmother off her case about it.
"Yes Grandmother, he is cute. Devon's so cute he's dreamy and I would give anything to have his children.", snapped Sylvia before she realized what she had said.
"Did I just say what I think I said? I hope I didn't.", thought Sylvia as she realized what words came out of her mouth.
Unfortunately, Sylvia could see from her grandmother's reaction that she had indeed said what she thought she said. Now she knew that the teasing would be merciless.
"Devon, you say. So dreamy that you would want to have his children, you say. Why my dear Sylvia, that is positively scandalous. If I didn't know better, I would say you had fallen for the man already. So when can I meet this Devon?"
Sylvia was at a loss to answer when she saw her redemption. She was arriving at the range nine tower and the posted scores. Telling her grandmother that she would see her later, Sylvia hurriedly cut the connection and zeroed the screen so that her grandmother couldn't see the deep blush that had suddenly spread across her cheeks at her grandmothers words.
Shutting the phone off and placing it deep in her pocket, Sylvia made her way through the crowd to look at the scores. With one glance at the posted scores, Sylvia's mouth dropped open. The three girls in the lounge hadn't been mistaken; her name appeared in the top spot for the first group.
-'Noventa, Sylvia Rene` 365.5 points. Group Ranking 1
"Well, I'll be dammed, those girls were right about me being ranked first in group.", thought Sylvia with a big grin on her face.
Accepting the congratulatory back pats and hugs from the other members of the first group, Sylvia left the crowd and walked over to an empty spectators table. Taking a seat she picked up the binoculars on the table and used them to see how the second group was faring. Observing the fifteen men and women on the firing line and the judges that were watching over them, Sylvia saw Devon as he walked up and down the firing line; occasionally stopping to pick up the binoculars that hung from his neck and bring them to his eyes to look downrange at the targets.
Seeing the Preventor attired in black cargo pants and black polo shirt with black jungle boots stirred something inside of Sylvia and she focused the binoculars to the backside of the tall judge and wondered what it would feel to give the man a good goose. Realizing that the current path her thoughts were taking would lead her into unneeded daydreams, Sylvia jerked the binoculars away from Devon and shifted them back to Mrs. Romaine and the rest of the competitors. However, Sylvia couldn't keep herself from bringing her attention back to the sinful sight of the Preventor Agents' delectable looking backside no matter how hard she tried.
"Of all the kinds of thoughts I should be having right now, carnal thoughts about one of the judges who just happens to be a Preventor (and a well built one at that) Agent are not the ones I'd choose.", Sylvia mentally chided herself.
Resigning the fact that no matter what she was trying to look at her libido was going to keep retuning the binoculars to the gluteus maximus of one Devon Tanisius, Sylvia sighed and just decided to enjoy the view. As she did so, she mentally cussed out all the women who had inadvertently brought her attention to the agent ever since he had came over and given her the message from Commander Une.
Out on the firing line, Devon was frustrated. He had had to warn a couple of the shooters under his direct control about their aim points. A couple of times, Devon had caught the guys unknowingly shooting at each other's target. The first few times, he had made notes of the competitors' names and targets to report to the head official. Then he had leaned down and given the two men official verbal warnings. After that they had seemed to settle down and keep to their own targets.
Now in the waning minutes of the competition, Devon had again caught the guys shooting at each others targets. After a very short conversation with the safety official, the two had decided to disqualify their scores and report them to the tower.
Standing behind the two men, Devon had brought the microphone up to his mouth and was in the process of making the call to the tower.
"Range coordinator, firing line official right side.", stated Devon.
"Go ahead right side official."
"Coordinator, I got a couple of guys down here shooting at each others targets. The two competitors have been officially reported on my score sheet. Both participants have also been given official verbal warnings; however they still are doing so. As such actions are against range safety regulations, the safety official has decided to disqualify the participants and I have agreed with him. According to the rules and regulations I have informed the head official and the range safety coordinator of my decision with the concurrence of my range safety official.", stated Devon as he glared at the two offenders.
"Range Coordinator copies that and concurs with your decision. Which lanes are the offenders?"
"Lanes three and four."
A short conversation was had and the decision was made by the tower official and the range coordinator for Devon to pull the two men off the firing line when it was announced that they had been disqualified.
"Attention of the firing line this is the range coordinator. Cease fire, I say again: Cease fire."
The sounds of rifle shots floated away on the late afternoon breeze as the competitors in the second group cleared their rifles and safed them. Like before, the competitors stepped away from the firing line to let the officials' double check the weapons to make sure they were safed and all chambers and barrels were empty.
Once again Devon and his fellow officials went through the weapons clear and safe litany.
"Right side, all weapons clear and safe?"
"All weapons clear and safe, right side!", replied Devon as his safety official concurred.
"Left side, all weapons clear and safe?"
"All weapons clear and safe, left side!"
"Middle, all weapons clear and safe?"
"All weapons clear and safe, middle!"
"All weapons clear and safe! Range is clear and safe. Second Group; retrieve your weapons and step away from the firing line. You are finished for the afternoon. Scores will be posted for your viewing later. Congratulations and good luck to you all. All second group officials: report to the tower to turn in and tabulate your scores."
Stepping back from the firing range, Devon took his glasses off and used his shirt tail to clean them before replacing them back on his face. Heading for the tower with his score sheet, Devon sighed and relaxed his shoulders. He knew that in an hour, he would be giving a demonstration.
At the scoring tower, Devon placed his score sheets on the table and turned to get some refreshment when he was paged to the top of the tower with his safety official to discuss his disqualification of the chosen competitors. When he reached the second floor, Devon saw that the two tower judges were not in the greatest of moods. Sighing, he knew that this discussion was going to take awhile.
Meanwhile, on Colony L-4, Multi-Billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner was sitting in the soft leather executive chair in his office on the second floor of the Winner Mansion. As the heir to the Winner fortune; Quatre had been chosen by popular vote to represent the colony in financial matters that were brought up in front of the Earth Sphere United Nations, the foreign minister, and the vice foreign minister. Quatre was also a Command Staff Preventors member (as were all of the Gundam pilots). In addition to his familial duties, Preventor Command Staff duties, and E.S.U.N. representative duties; the 21-year old Winner was the classified and official head of the Preventors on Colony L-4.
With all the duties that he was burdened with, one would expect Quatre to be vastly overworked and basically confined to his home office until all hours of the night. If anyone were to assume that, they would be sadly mistaken. Quatre liked his office; it was his semi-tangible link to his father, who was killed during the First Gundam War in front of Quatre's eyes, and late at night, he often found his way into the warm inviting room to sit back and think. Several times Quatre's wife and some of his sisters had found him asleep in the office early in the morning.
And that was where the lady of the house found him at 2AM this morning.
Dorothy Catalonia-Winner, Duchess of Catalonia, opened the dark oaken door to the office to see if her hunch had been correct. She had woken up thirty minutes before to give the newest Winner and next Winner heir his early morning meal before putting the baby back to sleep. However, upon entering the gaily decorated nursery, the twenty-one year old Winner Company Chief Operating Officer had found that the old bassinet (A Winner Family Heirloom. According to the servants, all newborn Winner children spent their first six months of life in this century old bassinet. Some of them still remember when Master Quatre tipped it over when he was three months old) where her child had been put down to sleep three hours previously was empty.
Now any other woman with a six month old child who suddenly found their baby gone from its bassinet in the middle of the night would panic and raise the alarm. Not Dorothy, she considered herself to be above such behavior. Sighing to herself, Dorothy tightened her robe and headed straight to where she knew the child would be.
"Not in here again, dammit; this is the fourth night in a row since he returned from Earth the other day. Quatre you know that you have to go in to the officer early tomorrow, why must you give up some of your rest to be with our son? I know you want to be a better dad than your own father was, but you mustn't forget that for now, I don't need as much sleep as you do.", thought Dorothy as she entered her husband's office.
Crossing the dimly lit room, Dorothy's feet made no sound on the deep plush carpet imported from Earth. Going around the massive desk, Mistress Winner saw what she expected to see.
Her husband snoozing happily in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk. And in his arms with his soft blue eyes wide open was the newest winner: Jamal Raberba Winner.
Baby Jamal was cooing softly as his little eyes caught site of his mother as she came around the desk. He giggled for a minute then returned his attention to the soft glow coming from the nineteen inch monitor situated to Quatre's left. Dressed in an azure blue one piece sleeper, the littlest Winner kicked his small feet in the air.
As she watched the antics of her son, Dorothy shook her head and grinned. Reaching down for her son, she brushed his soft light blonde hair and felt her heart flip and fill her with a love that she had only felt whenever she was in the kindhearted presence of her husband.
Dorothy Catalonia had changed at the end of the First Gundam War. After Trowa Barton had rescued Quatre from the remnants of Libra, he had come back for her so she could be brought to safety. At first she had resisted, only wanting to die for what she had done. Tired of her resistance, Trowa had backhanded Dorothy across the face and her will had crumpled. She still remembered Trowa's words that day.
-"I do not understand why you resist this. However, I know that Quatre wants you to live. He sees something in you that means something to him. If you died now, Quatre would be devastated. And Being his friend and seeing him in a similar state of mind once before, I would not wish his melancholy on my worst enemy. Now either you come on your own or I will carry you out of here over my shoulder."
Dorothy had meekly allowed herself to be led away by the quiet pilot to the crippled Peacemillion where she watched the final battle between Heero Yuy and Zechs Merquise as the embattled station plummeted to Earth. She was helping in the infirmary when the six greatest mobile suit pilots of all time, led by the critically wounded pilot of the Gundam Sandrock desperately tried to destroy the station before Heero Yuy and his Double Buster rifle completely obliterated it with one massive shot from the weapon that had done so much damage in the war.
After the damaged Peacemillion had returned to Earth, Dorothy had left and returned to the Catalonia Estates. She isolated herself from the press and her friends for three months; neither taking nor returning any calls from Relena or any of the others. When three months had passed, Dorothy had again left Earth to tour the colonies by herself. It was during that trip that she had literally run into Quatre. It was at another formal gathering that she had been invited to. At first she had turned it down but had decided to go at the last minute.
During the ball, Dorothy had turned down numerous dance requests. Becoming
bored, she had left the party and was on her way to the car requisitioned for
her use when she had caught the heel of her shoe in a small crack in the walk
and had fallen. As she had tensed up and waited for her collision with the hard
ground, Dorothy wondered how bad she would be hurt. When her expected collision with the ground
didn't occur, Dorothy opened her eyes and looked into a kind face with
sparkling blue eyes topped by short platinum blonde hair.
From the moment the desert prince had kept her from falling, to the moment she had left her own wedding reception enroute to the hospital to give birth to the small life slowly nodding off to sleep in her arms; Dorothy had experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows and she reveled in the changes they had wrought within her. She was still a world class fencer and every bit as independent and controversial she had been during the war, however, times had smoothed that rough steel into the finally tempered titanium blade she was today: the COO of one of the richest companies in the Earth Sphere, wife to the enigmatic Winner Heir, mother of the next company heir, and best friend to the foreign minister.
With her child in her arms, Dorothy leaned over her sleeping husband and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. As she turned to leave the office, the message on the computer screen caught her eyes. Searching her vast memory, Dorothy realized that Quatre was in touch with the two honeymooning couples.
"Hmm, what is my dear husband planning for Ms. Relena?"
Speed reading the messages the plan that Quatre was in the process of setting up to get the Yuy's and the Peacecraft's back to Earth. It seems that Quatre was in the process of having one of the many Winner Family shuttles repainted to look like one of the many passenger shuttles traipsing between the colonies and Earth. Once it was completely repainted (which, as Dorothy read, was going to be finished by early afternoon), it was to be sent to pick up Heero and Relena from their honeymoon on a resort colony that guarded its guests' privacy with a vengeance. From there it was going to pick up Miliardo and Lucrezia from their place on Mars (where their friends from the work they did after the Second Gundam War guarded the privacy of the two even more zealously. Sometimes going as far as verbally threatening the press that tried to sneak on planet and photo the newlyweds). From Mars, the shuttle was to head directly to Earth touching down at around 7 am, hopefully with the press none the wiser.
"Quatre, you're too kind to your friends.", murmured Dorothy as she cradled her son in her left arm and typed in a short message to the two other participants in the conversation.
On two different laptop computers, in two very distant locations, two men puzzled over the short and to the point message they received.
-'My husband is asleep. Now, unless you two want to be consigned to the couch so soon after getting married, I suggest you two newlyweds go join your wives in bed and enjoy the rest of the night. Otherwise I will spill this late night conversation. Love you both. DCW'
As the third person logged off and ended the conversation, two men scratched their heads and shrugged their shoulders before logging off and shutting down their computers. The man with the platinum blonde braid, walked over to the king-sized canopy bed, gave his black-haired with a kiss before climbing into the bed and snuggling up next to her warm body. The man with the tousled brown hair reentered the bedroom and just stood beside the bed where his beautiful honey blonde wife lay with a soft smile on her face and her Lapis Lazuli eyes beckoning for him to return to her waiting arms.
Back on Earth, Sylvia was sitting in the audience waiting for the awards ceremony to start. Sylvia figured that in the overall she probably ended up in the top five, maybe even the top three. Sylvia also knew that she was getting another award for her accuracy in the women's class. She didn't care about those awards; she wanted to gear the scores for the female shooters. Sylvia wanted to know if she had scored enough points in both of her classes to become the top-ranked female shooter in all of the Earth Sphere United Nations.
As she sat and paid attention to the speakers on stage complimenting everyone on shooting safely and having fun, Sylvia looked around and tried to find her main opponent. She spotted Mrs. Romaine two rows over and twenty seats down from where Sylvia herself sat, however, after a quick nod Sylvia's eyes roved over some of the officials until they saw the one that they wanted to linger on.
Sylvia watched Devon as he leaned against the wall with his hands behind his head and waited for the awards ceremony to end. She noted that the object of her unconscious desire seemed a bit restless. Realizing what she was doing, Sylvia forcibly jerked her head to the front just as the announcer started announcing the winners of the various classes and of the various extra sundry awards. She knew that she was up for one, maybe two extra awards, however she didn't really care about them that much. The only award she wanted was the one for winning the ladies competition and becoming the top-ranked female shooter in the entire Earth Sphere United Nation.
Sylvia was so concentrated on hearing her name announced as the winner of the women's competition that she missed hearing the names of the other division winners. It took her a minute to realize that the official at the microphone was explaining why the winner for the Women's Competition hadn't been announced.
Paying closer attention, the words she heard caused her jaw to drop.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, in the many years we have been sponsoring this competition there has never been a result in any class like the one we have today in the Women's Division. With equal scores of 365.5 points and first place in their respective open class groups, Ms. Sylvia Noventa and Mrs. Hazel Romaine have tied for the victory."
Sylvia couldn't believe her ears. She and Mrs. Romaine had tied?
"We Fucking Tied? I Can Not Believe This Shit! After All the Practice I Did for This One Match, I Can Only Come Away from Here With a Space-Be-Damned Tie?", fumed the younger woman as she mentally watched her dreams of taking the number one ranking go down the drain.
Still cursing her luck, Sylvia looked over at the top ranked woman and saw that she was taking the news of the tie as hard as Sylvia was, albeit with a slight sigh of relief. Grumbling, Sylvia returned her attention to the official and listened to what else he had to say even though none of it meant anything for her.
"It has just been relayed to me by the committee that since the two competitors that tied are ranked number one and number two in the Earth Sphere, by the rules, this match cannot end with a tie. However, one of our officials suggested a way to determine the winner. I would like to have him come up to the dais so that he can explain his suggestion himself. Agent Tanisius do step forward."
Angry beyond comprehension, Sylvia watched as the official in question pushed himself away from his position and started towards the microphone with a steady gait. Leaning forward in her seat, she listened to what the judge had to say.
Devon mounted the short flight of steps and headed across the stage to the microphone. He wondered why in the hell had he opened his mouth in the officials meeting before the ceremony.
"Why did I open my mouth in that meeting? I can't believe I actually did it. Crap. I made the offer without thinking and now I got to deal with it. Oh well.", thought Devon as he looked out at the crowd.
Using his walk across the dais to the microphone to gather his thoughts, Devon thought back to when the tie score had been discovered. He had left the tower after his meeting over the disqualification and had gone to get something to drink. On his return one of the more annoying of the officials had pulled him into the tower where all the judges from the Open Class Competition were gathered. It was then that he discovered that Sylvia and Mrs. Romaine had both taken firsts in their respective groups. Mrs. Romaine had more shots on target, but Sylvia's accuracy had been better. He had lifted his head from the almost identically scored targets and tuned into the arguments going on. Listening carefully he had just shook his head in dismay and turned to the only other official that was quiet. He pitched his idea to the man quietly and then waited all of ten seconds before the official quieted the room down and informed the gathered judges of Devon's suggestion. The rest of the group digested the words and agreed on it within a minute. It was decided on and then Devon was told that the personally was going to judge the shoot off since it was his rifle that the tied competitors were going to be using.
Taking a careful look across the sea of faces that stared back at him, Devon wished for the umpteenth time that he had kept quiet. Spotting the two faces he was looking for, he directed his words to them.
"Mrs. Romaine, Ms. Noventa; it has been decided that the two of you will have a shoot off. However neither of you will be using your own weapons. In order to make this as fair as possible I suggested and my suggestion was accepted. To decide this match and the ranking, both of you will be using my personal weapon.", stated Devon.
Immediately, Sylvia Noventa's hand went up indicating that she had a question. Devon acknowledged her and waited for her words.
"Why must we use your rifle, Agent Tanisius? I believe that Mrs. Romaine's weapon and my own will be sufficient to decide this competition.", snapped Sylvia loudly.
"Yes, your personal weapons would be sufficient. However, the targets will not be at a thousand yards. They will be at twice that distance. Ms. Noventa, you and Mrs. Romaine will be shooting targets at two thousand yards."
There was silence in the room. Sylvia and Mrs. Romaine had their jaws opened in slack-jawed astonishment. All was quiet for a second as everyone in the area had digested the new information, then the room erupted into pandemonium. Contestants and fans were discussing the range and decision very loudly and Devon allowed the conversation for a few minutes. However as the noise level increased exponentially, he tapped the head of the microphone and elicited a loud blast of feedback that immediately shut everyone up as they held their ears. Clearing his throat, Devon went on to explain that he was going to be the sole judge of this shoot off and his word on the winner was final.
"The shoot off will begin in thirty minutes on range Seventeen. Ms. Noventa, Mrs. Romaine; please join me there in ten minutes. At that time the two of you will see the weapon you will be using for the first time and I will explain it to you. Ladies, I wish you luck and I hope that your shirts are well padded. You'll need it."
Finished with his short speech, Devon stepped back from the microphone and left the stage. Four minutes after leaving the tent, he was walking through the late afternoon shadows on his way to range seventeen. He wanted to get there so he could have everything ready for when the two women showed up.
Once he reached his rifle, Devon reached down beside the big thing and picked his ammo bag up. Keying in his personal code into the very secure lock, he unzipped the bag and opened. Once it was open Devon reached in and pulled out four extra five round magazines and placed them on the bench rest. After checking to see if he had enough clips for his exhibition and picking up the loose round he saw at the bottom of the case, Devon resealed his bag and straightened up. Hearing two pairs of feminine footsteps, Devon resettled his glasses on his nose and turned around to face the two approaching women. Devon waited for them to stop. When they did, he stepped aside and showed them what they were going to be shooting.
"Mrs. Romaine, Ms. Noventa let me introduce you to the weapon that you will be shooting. It is a fifty caliber semi automatic rifle originally made by a long defunct Earth arms company. It is accurate out to 2000 yards and then some. Back in its heyday this weapon or weapons similar to it were used to take out small unarmored vehicles like jeeps, cars, aircraft engines, radar dishes, etc. Nowadays, rifles like these are only made for special order. I've had this one for about ten years. It fires ten rounds from a box-style magazine. There are five round magazines for other versions of this weapon or one of the ten round clips can be modified to only hold five rounds."
Hazel and Sylvia nodded as Devon continued to explain about the weapon that they would be shooting. He finished up his explanation with how this shoot off was going to be ran.
"Each of you will be given one ten round clip. You will be shooting at one target 2000 yards downrange. When you have each expended your allotted ten shots, your targets will be judged on accuracy and amount of shots in the target. Any questions?", asked Devon as he leaned against the bench.
Neither Sylvia nor Hazel had any questions and Devon went ahead and showed them how to load the clip and attach their clips to the rifle. Since the two women had tied with identical scores, it was decided that they would flip a coin to see who would shoot first. Devon reached into one of his pockets and took out a small silver coin. He showed the sides to both ladies to prove that it wasn't a trick coin. It was decided that Sylvia would make the call while the coin was flipping through the air; if the coin landed on whatever Sylvia called (be it either heads or tails), she would choose if she wanted to go first or second. If it landed opposite what the younger lady called, Mrs. Romaine would make the choice.
Devon looked at both women and asked if they were ready. When they indicated that it was, he flipped the coin into the air.
"Ms. Noventa, your call."
"I call heads.", stated Sylvia as the trio watched the silver disk as it flipped through the air.
When the coin landed in Devon's hand, tails was facing up. Devon showed it to both women and then turned to Mrs. Romaine and told her it was her choice. When she chose to shoot after Sylvia, the younger woman groaned in resignation.
Devon nodded and informed the other officials that Sylvia was shooting first. Then he turned to Sylvia and asked if she wanted to wait a few moments. Sylvia said no and told him that she wanted to go ahead and shoot. Devon nodded and turned to Mrs. Romaine.
"Mrs. Romaine, you need to go behind the safety line. I am the only one allowed in the immediate area of the shooter while she is shooting. Please excuse us."
The top-ranked female shooter grumbled but did as she was told. Even she knew that at this range, her competitor needed all of her concentration. Taking a seat, she sat back and watched as the other woman stepped up to the large caliber rifle.
At the firing line, Sylvia was looking through the spotters' scope to make sure she could see her target. Nodding to herself, she shifted from the spotter's scope to the scope on the top of the rifle. Looking through the scope, she asked for Devon to adjust the scope so that her target came into focus. Once that was done, Sylvia sat in the chair provided, charged the rifle with her ten rounds, and indicated to Devon that she was ready. Devon acknowledged the indication and picked up the handset on the wall. Calling the helpers in the pit at the far end of the range, Devon asked if the range was clear. Getting a positive answer he hung up the handset and picked up the PA microphone.
"Range control; range seventeen lane ten is clear."
"Copy range clear, lane clear. The range is yours.", replied the voice from range control.
Devon nodded and with one last look down range through his binoculars he continued on with his spiel.
"Ms. Noventa, the range is clear. You are cleared to chamber one round of ammunition."
The crowd was silent as the familiar sound of a rifle being charged rang out into the early evening. Devon nodded and continued.
"Lane ten is live. Ms. Noventa you are cleared to disengage the weapons safety."
Sylvia did so and relaxed so she could concentrate on her breathing. Putting every thing out of her mind except for the live weapon that was in her hands, she waited for the signal to start shooting.
Devon took a deep breath and looked at the gathered crowd. Readying himself, Devon gave Sylvia the command she was waiting for.
"Lane ten you are cleared to commence firing."
Immediately following his statement, Sylvia pulled the trigger and the sound of a large caliber rifle rang out across the range with its deep throated blast.
Although he was used to it, Devon loved to hear his weapon speak. Whether it was in anger or not, the sound of the big fifty caliber going off never failed to excite him and he grinned. As he grinned he was reminded of a joke a fellow owner of a fifty caliber rifle told him at one of his matches a few years back.
-"Young man, you can always tell the owner of a fifty caliber rifle from a lesser rifle at the firing range."
-"How can I tell that, sir?"
-"You just look for the person who is rubbing their shoulder and has the biggest shit-eating grin on their face. That smile tells you that its owner has a fifty and has become entranced by the firepower under his or her command."
-"I see, thank you sir."
-"Don't mention it. Oh yeah one other thing, when you take your own fifty to the range and feel its power, never forget that feeling. The feeling of firing a big dammed gun with a big dammed round. As long as you live, never forget that feeling."
Devon had grinned and went along with what the man said thinking it was poppycock until he had caressed the trigger of his own fifty caliber to send a round down range. At that moment, he understood what the man had been trying to tell him. Next time he saw the guy, Devon had silently thanked him before sending a round into the man's chest. He had been an exceptionally cruel prison camp commandant and Devon had been assigned to take him out. He had done so with one round from his fifty at 1972 yards. Afterwards, Devon felt shame for killing the man who had turned him on to the power of a fifty caliber sniper rifle.
For her part, Sylvia was taking her fifth shot of this shoot off. Looking through the scope, Sylvia saw that her first two shots had hit the target but were slightly more spread out than she was used to. She figured it was because of her unfamiliarity with the weapon she was using. As she pulled the trigger for her third shot, Sylvia felt that by taking her time, she could get used to the big rifle and hopefully shoot a better score. Already she was feeling the effects of the recoil. This rifle fired rounds that were larger, more powerful, and destructive than she was used to.
"Fifth shot's away and my shoulder is beginning to get sore. Concentrate on your immediate task and put the pain out of your mind.", thought Sylvia as she took a deep breath in preparation for shot number six.
Behind Sylvia, Mrs. Romaine studied her opponent with a critical eye. Hazel Romaine knew that she had a fight on her hands. Sylvia Noventa was young, very experienced, a veteran shooter, and damn near unshakeable when she was on the firing line. The few times Mrs. Romaine had seen Noventa make a mistake were few and very far between. The rest of the times, Sylvia Noventa was a solid rock. If not for a few bad scores, Sylvia Noventa would be the number one female shooter in the whole ESUN.
"And she wouldn't relinquish that spot without a battle. If Sylvia ever was ranked number one, it would be just about impossible to knock her from that spot.", sighed Mrs. Romaine as she took another drink of her water.
Back on the firing line, Devon watched as Ms. Noventa took her seventh, eighth, and ninth shots. He had been impressed with how Ms. Noventa handled the large weapon. After each of her shots, he had looked through his spotting scope to see where the rounds had been hitting. Devon also had been judging her form as she shot. He had a feeling that the sitting position was very unusual for her. A third of the way through her magazine, Devon noticed that she had adapted to the unusual position and he mentally gave her five points for that.
Now, Devon watched carefully. He knew that VFM Noventa was on her last round and was taking her time. With one eye to the spotting scope and the other eye on the shooter, Devon anticipated the trigger break. When it did and the rifle discharged the last round, Devon watched its vapor trail as it sped 6000 feet down range to imbed itself in the target. When he was sure of the hit, Devon waited as the target descended out of site. Once it was; the Preventer stepped back from the scope and raised his head. Going through the litany of commands, Devon made sure that his rifle was safe, the empty clip had been ejected, and that the shooter had stepped back from the rifle. Once the competitor was away from the weapon, Devon did a very detailed weapon inspection. Satisfied with his inspection, Devon turned to Sylvia and extended his hand.
"Thank you Ms. Noventa. You may now step behind the line. I wish you good luck with your score."
Sylvia accepted Devon's hand and his thanks before moving over to where Mrs. Romaine sat. Nodding at the elder shooter, Sylvia waited for her competitor to vacate the chair before seating herself. Not long after she sat down, Sylvia received a bottle of water. Thanking the considerate official who brought the bottle, Sylvia opened it and took a drink. Recapping the bottle, Sylvia sat it in her lap and watched as Devon went through his spiel with Mrs. Romaine.
Sylvia hoped that at some point in her ten allotted shots, Mrs. Romaine would falter. However she knew that this scenario with her shooting first, played right into the older woman's hands. This situation was the kind Mrs. Romaine thrived on. Being challenged by an expert shooter who threatened her #1 ranking, she excelled at situations like this.
Sylvia knew this because she had witnessed it in the previous competitions. The more pressure that was put on her, the better Hazel Romaine shot.
"I wouldn't put it past that heifer to shoot a perfect score on this target with that big dammed rifle. Dammit, I wish she had shot first! Hah, if she had, knowing her, Mrs. Romaine would have shot a perfect or near perfect score just to spite me.", fumed Sylvia as she rubbed her shoulder some more.
On the firing line, Devon was watching as Mrs. Romaine sent her third shot down range. As Sylvia and Mrs. Romaine had switched places, he had gotten word that the first target was on its way back to him so he could score it when he got Mrs. Romaine's target back. From what he could see, it was Mrs. Romaine's' match to win or lose. Looking through the official spotting scope, he saw that her groups were so close you could cover them with a nickel.
"Hmm, this is going to be a close one to judge and score.", thought Devon as he watched another shot speed downrange.
Also on the firing line, Mrs. Romaine was concentrating on the target downrange. With her mind empty except for the task at hand, Hazel Romaine continued in giving a class on perfect shooting. Her body was aligned and steady.
Mrs. Romaine pulled her trigger finger out of the trigger guard and studied her target through the scope some more. Seeing the holes in the paper target where her previous rounds had impacted the target, she asked that Devon make a slight adjustment to the scope. Once he did so, she cracked out another three shots and again studying the target.
"Two shots left. I better make them count. Although my last eight were perfect and on target.", gloated Mrs. Romaine as she took a deep breath.
Exhaling half of her breath, the top-ranked female shooter prepared to send her final two bullets down range. Putting the pain from the jarring rifle out of her mind, she took up the slack on the trigger and waited for the correct moment to send her ninth shot down the range. After another check of the target and a glance at the windsock on the side of the range seventeen tower, Mrs. Romaine sent her tenth and final shot down the range. Safeing the rifle and ejecting the empty clip, Romaine got out of the seat and stepped back from the rifle to allow the official to do his safety inspection of the weapon. Once that was finished, she accepted his handshake and returned to where Sylvia presently sat.
Sylvia stood up and waited for Mrs. Romaine to return. When she did, she extended her own hand in sportsmanship. When the two women finished congratulating each other an alert concessions attendant brought them and extra chair and the two sat back down. Sylvia watched with hidden amusement as Mrs. Romaine rubbed her shoulder where the big gun had bruised her shoulder with its recoil.
"That big bastard has a helluva kick doesn't it?", asked Sylvia when her opponent finished rubbing the bruise.
"Yes it does. I haven't shot any rifle that has anywhere near the recoil of that big behemoth. I'll still be sore for a few hours after that.", replied Mrs. Romaine.
As the two ladies chatted about their experiences with the rifle, Devon was inside the range tower scoring both targets. So far both women had done exceptionally well. Shot for shot, these two were the best of the best. He grumbled to himself as he compared the holes in the targets that were circled in yellow ink. It didn't help that he had two men watching him and making sure that he was impartial.
Lifting his head and pinching the bridge of his nose to relieve a bit of tension, Devon shifted his gaze back to the VFM's target. Scrutinizing the target carefully, Devon made some mental notes and compared them with his mental notes of the other target. As he compared the two targets mentally, something in Devon's mind spotted an inconsistency.
"Wait a minute. Hand me Mrs. Romaine's target for a moment.", said Devon suddenly.
There was a rustle of paper as somebody slid the other target into his hand. Picking both targets up, Devon walked over to the window and held the two targets up side by side. Not seeing what his subconsciousness had noticed, Devon shifted the targets to that one target was superimposed over the other. First he put the Noventa target on top. Not seeing anything, he reversed the targets and put the Romaine target on top. And that was when he saw it.
A slight difference in the two targets.
Although the bullets had hit in the exact same place on the different targets, there was a very miniscule difference. Devon brought both targets back to the table in the middle of the room and grabbed a magnifying glass. Going over the targets, Devon found what he was looking for. Marking it, he handed the glass to the other judges to confirm what he had seen.
When everything was confirmed, all three judges separately added up the point totals and came up with the final score of the match. After double checking each other's work, Devon called for a messenger. Once the messenger arrived, he was given an envelope with the name of the shoot-off winner inside of it and was instructed to take it to the head officials.
Back outside, Sylvia and Mrs. Romaine saw the messenger as he left with the envelope. The pair rose from their seats and headed to where Devon and the other judges were exiting the range tower. The two competitors met up with the three judges and were told that the winner would be declared in the awards tent.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Romaine, Sylvia, Devon, and the two other judges were in the awards tent waiting for the winner to be officially announced. Inside the tent it was very raucous. A few had stayed in the tent for the after match party while others had come out and watched the shoot off between Noventa and Romaine. The majority of the people who left the tent to watch the shoot off were some of the other female competitors, many of whom had a vested interest in the outcome of this match. They knew that by the end of the match today there was going to be a major shake-up in the rankings. Especially among the top two spots.
A short time later, Devon was back at his rifle and was in the midst of his exhibition. To accommodate Devon and show the observers the power of Devon's rifle, the match organizers had had several pieces of used military equipment brought out onto the range. Old jeeps, armored personnel carriers, obsolete aircraft, and some decommissioned mobile suits were doing duty as victims of Devon's accuracy and ability. As he shot round after armor piercing round, the crowd oohed and ahhhed at the destructive power wielded by the expert rifleman pulling the trigger.
Twenty feet beyond the firing line, the top-ranked female shooter in the ESUN was observing the exhibition with undisguised glee on her face. Still resting her shoulder, she accepted the acclaims from the other competitors for her performance during the match. For her it had been a hard fought match that went down to the wire. There was only a very small difference between first and second place in this competition.
Sylvia Noventa accepted the congratulations from another competitor as she continued to observe and enjoy the exhibition that was being given. Each time she thought about how narrow her victory over Mrs. Romaine was, Sylvia couldn't help but break into a big grin.
Sylvia had won the shooting match by the slimmest margin they had ever seen. Because of a slight sighting error, Mrs. Romaine's eighth shot had gone just a little high. The round had hit in the exact same spot as Sylvia's round, however since the majority of the hole was in the third ring out, it had been scored as an 8 instead of a 9. That fraction of an inch cost Hazel Romaine the victory and her number on ranking.
After it had been announced, Sylvia had stood on stage with a stunned expression on her face. Hazel came up and was the first to congratulate her on the win and her moving into the top spot. Since she was the defending champion of this particular match; Mrs. Romaine had, as per tradition, taken the trophy off the awards table and handed it to Sylvia. Since her lost also knocked her from her pedestal as the number one female shooter, Mrs. Romaine had also unpinned her competition number one from her blouse and (also by tradition) pinned on to Sylvia's shirt thus acknowledging her new position as the number one ranked ladies shooter in the Earth Sphere United Nation.
Now that all the accolades had been given and the match officially ended, Sylvia sat back and relaxed as she watched Devon's exhibition, or tried to. Sitting in a chair positioned directly behind the shooter was giving Sylvia an excellent view of Devon as he worked the trigger of the massive weapon. Unfortunately it was also giving the libidinous side of Sylvia's mind a lot of ammunition to torture her with. At the moment, it was teasing her by continuously drawing her eyes and attention back to the agent's backside each time Sylvia tried to watch the exhibition. Finally, Sylvia couldn't take it anymore; her neck was killing her so she just surrendered to the inevitable and let her gaze drop to where her libido wanted it.
On the firing line, Devon was waiting for his final target to appear. The last target was supposed to simulate what one fifty caliber rifle round could do to a human head. A watermelon was to be placed on its own flat stand. However, somebody decided to get tricky and placed the fruit on a very hard to see spot in the disabled jeep. Devon realized this as he scoped the targets and saw a piece of the melon in the gap between the two front seats.
"Dammit, whoever was in charge of placing the targets has a sense of humor. The asshole!", thought Devon as he scoped the target.
Since he had gotten a late start to the exhibition, Devon knew that by the time he got to the end of the show, he would be shooting in dim light and would have a hard time seeing and correcting his shots. To compensate for the growing darkness and give the watchers a show they would never forget, Devon had switched his regular clip with one where tracers rounds of different colors were scattered throughout the ten round clip. So far the crowd had been thrilled when every other shot left a brightly lit tail as it sped down range. They'd ooh'ed and ahh'ed as the brilliant green, red, and orange tracers streaked down to embed themselves in the targets.
Taking a deep breath and sighting in on the little bit of watermelon that was visible through his scope, Devon settled into what he called his 'trance'. The trance was a state of mind that Devon slipped into when he was on assignment for his shadow partner. It calmed him down and steadied his thoughts. Once he slipped into the 'trance' Devon could stay in it indefinitely if needed. He once waited six days for his target to appear. Of the six, he was in his trance for four of them.
Now on this range, he again found himself slipping into that state as he concentrated on the watermelon. All extraneous sights, sounds, and smells disappeared as if a black hole had sucked them in. It was just Devon and the target.
As if he was on automatic, Devon caressed the trigger with the gentlest of touches. He compared his caressing pull of the trigger to the act of his driving a woman wild with just his touch. The trigger broke with barely any effort and Devon's last round left the barrel at 2910 feet per second trailing a yellow tail as it went downrange. Releasing his breath, Devon watched as his round struck the visible part of the watermelon with explosive force. It hit the fruit with devastating results before the supersonic crack of the bullet passing through the sound barrier was heard by the crowd. The melon exploded in an awe-inspiring and sobering spectacle of watermelon pulp and juice. One minute the melon was there and the net it was gone. Many of the expert shooters in the crowd made an effort to swallow their gasps. Those shooters realized that the accuracy of the man now lifting his head from the scope was not to be matched. Some of the female shooters in the crowd who knew that the exhibition shooter was a Preventers Agent- including Mrs. Hazel Romaine-hoped that no one they knew would ever find themselves on the receiving end of such a shot.
For Sylvia Noventa, she was trying to control her breathing. Except in her case it wasn't about the destruction that had been wreaked on the watermelon by a single trigger pull (well not completely) but by the sight of the slow caress of the trigger that the man had used to fire his shot. Her libido was gleefully inundating her mind with the images of what a caress from Devon could do to her naked skin. Hearing Devon's voice over the loudspeaker, Sylvia hurriedly brought her attention back to the present and tried her damnedest to wipe the slightly idiotic grin off of her face.
Devon safed his rifle and ejected his empty magazine as he activated the Lavaliere microphone securely attached to the collar of his shirt. Ignoring the noise, Devon finished up his routine and made sure that the chamber was empty, the safety switch was engaged, and there was no magazine in the magazine well. Just to be on the extra safe side, Devon inserted a bullet-shaped metal plug in the breech.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, you have just seen what a single round of .50 caliber ammunition can do. If you have any questions, I will be around the official tent in approximately twenty minutes. This concludes my exhibition.", stated Devon in a voice as still as glacier cold ice.
Finished with his short speech, Devon turned off the microphone and turned back to the rifle. Reaching down to the side of the stand, he picked up his rifle case and proceeded to place the weapon inside. Once it was inside and snugged down and secured, he closed and locked the case before reaching down again and picking up his gear bag. With his gear bag up on the shooting bench and open, Devon gathered up his spent casings and placed them in a plastic bag brought especially for the purpose of carrying his expended brass for his study later. Once all the brass was policed up, Devon moved on to grabbing his empty magazines and placing them in the bottom of the case. With that done, he reached into the bag and pulled out a tube of the substance he used to sooth his aching shoulder muscle. Once the tub was out and in one of his pockets, Devon closed the bag and slung it over his off hand shoulder then reached down and grabbed the handle of his case and headed off of the firing line in the direction of the officials lounge.
As he walked towards his destination, Devon did not talk except to answer direct questions. When he did, the questioners quickly left him alone; intimidated by the emotionless and toneless answers they received. Devon saw this but wasn't offended. He was used to it. Each time he slipped into his shooter's trance, his voice became almost mechanical but with a dark overtone hinted at. Devon had learned that his voice would only return to its usual tone after he brought himself completely out of his trance.
After a fifteen minute walk, Devon entered the officials lounge and headed for his temporary locker. Once there, he opened it and placed his bag inside after retrieving the supplies he used to clean the big weapon. Once the supplies and the weapon were on the table installed for that purpose, Devon broke the weapon down to its component pieces and went to work. First thing he did was remove the metal plug he had placed in the breech before putting the weapon in its case. After that, Devon proceeded with cleaning the rifle of the accumulated gunpowder residue and anything else that would hinder the accuracy and safety of his weapon.
Devon took his time with each piece, going over it several times. This was routine for Devon as well but it served another purpose. The repetitious motions helped bring Devon completely out of his shooter's trance and back to the present time. Thirty five minutes later, Devon was reassembling the weapon and replacing it in its case. Once the rifle was back in its case and the case closed and locked, only then did he allow himself to relax. As he did so, Devon felt the throbbing pain in his shoulder from the recoil of the rifle.
Rising up from the chair, Devon carried the rifle over to his lockers and carefully deposited the case on top of the lockers with the handle situated where he could grab it with ease on his way out to his jeep. Letting his shoulders drop, Devon reached into his pocket and pulled out the tube he had grabbed before closing the bag on the range. Dropping the tube on the table, Devon took off his shirt.
With his shirt off, one could see that on the left side of Devon's chest was a primitive tattoo that was almost tribal in its appearance. To some it looked like a collection of marks. To others-usually those with excellent imaginations- it looked like one of the big cats of lore.
Devon ran his hand over the tattoo before reaching down and uncapping the tube on the table. Squeezing a small bit into his hand, Devon proceeded to rub the lotion over his shoulder where the butt of the weapon had recoiled. Within minutes after starting, Devon felt the muscle pain slowly vanish as the crème did its job. Once the pain was gone and the lotion completely rubbed in, Devon replaced his shirt, capped the lotion, and returned it to his pocket. Then with a small look of contentment, he left the lounge to mingle and answer more questions.
Back outside of the official lounge, Sylvia conversed with a few of the other competitors as she nibbled on some of the finger foods that were left over from the awards ceremony. Every so often she reached up and rubbed her shoulder where the big rifle had recoiled and bruised her shoulder. At the moment she was talking with another politician who had competed but in a different division.
During the conversation, Sylvia's eyes had been unconsciously drifting around the room as her libido took control and searched for the object of its attention. After a few moments,. Sylvia's subconscious spotted her target and she excused herself from the politician with a promise of a meeting during the week to discuss the agenda.
Dropping her empty plate in the nearest garbage receptacle, Sylvia watched as Devon entered the area with a mini legion of followers who were questioning him about the specifications of his rifle and bullets he used. Some were asking him where they could get such a rifle, while several of the single female shooters (and a couple of the married ones) were trying to find out if he had a significant other. Sylvia could see that the repetitiveness of the questions was beginning to wear on the man's nerves. Stepping out where he could see her, Sylvia waited.
Devon was tired and slightly sore. His stomach was subtly informing him that it was empty and that he needed to refuel it soon if he didn't want to be embarrassed. He had been answering questions and turning down dinner invitations from the moment he had left the lounge. Now as the umpteenth woman tried to surreptitiously slip her phone number and address into his pocket, Devon spotted Sylvia Noventa and grinned. Quickly breaking free of the crowd and heading in her direction, he figured that he could talk with her for a bit and make his escape.
Closing in on Sylvia with a posse of hangers on behind him Devon saw her reach up and rub her shoulder. Reaching into his pocket and pulling the lotion out, Devon waited for her to catch his eye and then held the tube up. Seeing her weary nod, he stepped over and shook her hand again.
"Congratulations on your victory and new ranking Ms. Noventa. I am happy to see that your work has paid off. Now that you are the top ranked female shooter in the entire Earth Sphere United Nation, what do you plan on doing?", asked Devon as he accepted a glass of juice from a passing waiter.
"Thank you Agent Tanisius and thank you again for letting me use your rifle in the shoot off. As the new number one, I plan on defending that ranking for as long as I can. But right now, I just want to go home, take care of my shoulder, then go to bed and get some sleep. My grandmother and I are expected at church tomorrow. What about you Agent Tanisius?"
"First I am going to get something to eat, then I am going home and getting some sleep myself. Tomorrow morning I plan on working out for a bit before a meeting at Preventer Headquarters. I may be able to help you with that shoulder. I bet it is still sore from the shoot-off."
Sylvia nodded but her nod turned into a grimace as another muscle spasm hit. She opened her mouth but Devon shook her words off and offered her a tube of lotion.
"Try this, I use it all the time after I shoot that cannon. As many times as I have shot the fifty, the recoil still hurts. This lotion relaxes the muscle and then goes deep to get rid of the pain. It also soothes other aches and pains you have. And the good thing about it is that it is unscented so that no one knows you're wearing it. I just finished using it on my shoulder."
Sylvia tried to decline the lotion but was rebuffed as he explained that he had more at home. Then with a quick nod of his head, he left her with the tube in her hands and words of thanks that died on her lips. Shaking the temporary breathlessness off, Sylvia stuck the lotion in her pants pocket for later transfer to her gear bag. Then she violently squelched the traitorous thought that popped up in her mind along with the erotic image that accompanied it. Turning from the spot she was in, Sylvia promised herself a cold shower to cool down her sensually sizzling libido when she got home.
After a few more hours of listening to inane small talk and gossip from her fellow shooters, Sylvia decided to cal it a night and headed for the competitors lounge retrieve her rifles and her gear bag. As she grabbed her stuff and headed out to her car, her stomach grumbled and she tried to suppress a yawn. Glancing at her watch as she covered her mouth, she noted the time.
"Almost 9 o'clock pm. At home dinner is over and the food will probably already be put up by the time I got home. I'll stop off at a one of the places on the main street and grab something. Grandmother won't approve but she won't chastise me for it either. Now Janelle might be another matter. She does fret so when I don't get a balanced meal. Oh well, I'll deal with that when it comes up.", Sylvia muttered.
Disarming the alarm for her car, Sylvia opened the trunk and placed her rifle case inside before closing it and heading for the driver's side door. As she climbed in to the low slung bucket seat, Sylvia cast one eye up at the sky and saw the gathered clouds. Figuring that it might start to rain before she got home, Sylvia started the engine then activated the motor for the convertible top and waited as the top rose from its place from underneath the tonneau cover behind the driver's seat and silently motored forward into position. Once the convertible top was in its raised position, Sylvia locked it down with the necessary levers and sighed in relief. Rolling her window half way down, she disengaged the parking brake and moved the gearshift from neutral to first gear before letting off the clutch and pulling off.
With the window partially down, Sylvia used her left hand to steer through the parking lot while fiddling with the radio controls with her right. She found an easy-listening channel on the tuner and let it stay there as she navigated through the gravelly lot. As she neared the entrance to the street, Sylvia saw a man carrying a rifle case head towards a beat up jeep. Watching, the man placed his battle-scarred case in the back of the jeep before dropping a gear back on the passenger side and grabbing the roll bar and swinging himself up and into the vehicle with ease. Once in the driver's seat, Sylvia watched as the man reached up under the dash of the jeep and pull out two identically sized objects and place them within his reach before reaching into his pocket, pulling out an average sized keychain and placing a single key in the ignition before starting the old truck.
Curious at the identity of the man, Sylvia switched her parking lights from that setting to the normal lights setting. Quickly adjusting to the sudden brightness, she looked back at the truck and was surprised to see that the man in question was Agent Tanisius. Even more surprising was that in the split second it had taken her to go from parking lights to normal low beams, he had vaulted himself out of the jeep after scooping up whatever it was he had placed on the seat, knelt beside the vehicle as if he was hiding from hidden gunfire and had both hands pointed in her direction.
Devon was calling himself every such fool he could think of as he knelt beside his jeep. He had managed to ditch his followers and made his way out to his jeep with his gear bag and case. Wearily climbing into his jeep and pulling his two pistols from their spot, he had placed them on the seat beside him. Cranking the engine on the jeep and thinking about what he was going to do when he got home. Devon was in the process of reaching for the gearshift when the lights from the passing car had switched from the low orange glow from parking lights to the normal high intensity crisp white lights of normal headlights and caught him by surprise. Reacting as he had been trained, Devon had grabbed the two .40 caliber pistols on the seat and thrown himself out of the car with the pistols in his hands seeking target acquisition even before he realized it.
Now with his handguns pointed at a position above the headlights where the driver's head would approximately be, Devon let his pulse slow before rising to his feet and, with weapons still extended, walking to the sports car that had stopped. When he got close enough to the partially lowered window to recognize the silhouette gaping at him backlit by the soft glow of the low lights from the console, Devon cursed and lowered his pistols.
In her car, Sylva tried to regain control of her racing heartbeat as the agent slowly stalked in her direction with a deadly scowl on his face. As he got closer, the thoughts in her head became jumbled. She had been very surprised when she had recognized the pistols and found herself on the wrong end of them.
With her gaze still on the approaching agent, Sylvia's right hand reached for the ignition only to halt when Devon's voice reached out to her.
"Madam Vice Foreign Minister, please put your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them. That way I can be sure you aren't reaching for anything threatening. Better yet, why don't you step out of the car and we can get this situation under control.", sighed Devon as he stopped a few feet away from the VFM's vehicle with his weapons still pointed towards the ground but ready to snap up into target acquisition if need be.
Sylvia didn't want to but the politician in her mind let her know that it would be safer if she did. Taking her car out of gear and pulling the parking break, she climbed out of the car and willed her breathing to steady out. Closing the door behind her, she took a step away from it and extended her hands to show that she wasn't armed. Devon saw the empty hands and sighed. Sylvia heard the click as the safeties of both weapons were engaged.
"What happened, Agent Tanisius?", asked Sylvia as she leaned back against her car.
"You surprised me when you turned your lights fully on and my body just reacted like I was trained.", answered Devon.
"I surprised you just by turning on my lights? That's not possible."
"It is possible. I reacted as I was trained during the First Gundam War."
Sylvia was stunned. The man in front of her couldn't be much older than she was and here he was talking as if he was a soldier during the first war. She didn't' believe him and let him know it.
"Yes I was a soldier during the first war. I was a fifteen year old mercenary sniper.", stated Devon as he bent the truth a bit.
"Really?"
"Yes, and when you turned on your lights my body reacted just like I was trained."
"I see. Well, I apologize for surprising you like that although I am surprised that as an agent of Preventer you are allowed to carry your weapons with you. I thought that once you left headquarters, you were only allowed to carry one personal weapon."
"I carry two because I've always carried a pair of concealed handguns wherever I went. It just carried over from my mercenary training. Now if you'll excuse me madam Vice Foreign Minister I must be going. Next time please do not surprise me. We were lucky this time that I recognized your headlights for what they were."
Sylvia nodded then watched as Devon turned and headed back to his vehicle. Once she saw that he was in his jeep, Sylvia turned and reentered her own car and restarted it. With one last look at Devon, she shifted into gear and pulled out of the lot. In her review mirror, Sylvia could see Devon doing the same. When she was far enough away from the parking lot, Sylvia sighed and headed for the first fast food joint she saw. Twenty-seven minutes and two hamburgers and a large soda later, Sylvia was pulling her car into the driveway of Noventa Manor and heading for the garage where the families' private vehicles were.
Pulling her car into its spot, Sylvia shut off her engine and relaxed for a minute before undoing her seat belt and climbing out of the silent vehicle. Activating the trunk release, Sylvia went to the trunk and retrieved her weapons case. Yawning loudly, she closed the trunk and returned back to the open driver's side door. Reaching in, she grabbed her gear bag and pulled it out of the car. Placing it on her shoulder, Sylvia closed the car door and headed for the door to the house. Once inside the house proper, Sylvia made her way to the armory and keyed in her code to pen the door. Deciding against just leaving the two rifles on the table, Sylvia opened the shutters on her wall of the armory and replaced the two weapons in their spots. Closing the shutters, Sylvia replaced the case underneath the table and left the armory. Waiting for the thick door to close, she yawned again. Once the door, was closed and locked, Sylvia headed into the kitchen to see if there was anything left from dinner. Spotting the large hoagie sandwich and chips on the plate, Sylvia looked in the direction of the baroness's office and offered up a thankful smile.
Grabbing the plate and then diving into the refrigerator for a soda, Sylvia took the meal upstairs to her suite of rooms. Entering the plush room, she saw that her overly efficient maid, Jan had thoughtfully set out a pair of pajamas. Placing the plate of food on her desk, Sylvia strode over to her bed and sat down. Untying her boots and loosening the laces, she kicked off the footwear and proceeded to strip down to her underwear. She had planned to take a bath but nixed that plan as another yawn burst forth from her mouth.
Once she was attired in the sleepwear, Sylvia grabbed her plate of food and moved it to her bed.
"Ahh, the hell with it, if Jan complains I'll just play it off.", thought Sylvia as she used the remote to turn on her stereo system and let the music flow throughout the room.
Ten minutes after the radio came on, Vice Foreign Minister Sylvia Rene' Noelle Noventa, Thirteenth Baroness of the Noventa Barony, and now the top ranked female shooter in the E.S.U.N., was fast asleep with her sandwich and chips half-eaten. The pains of her shoulder forgotten as she dreamed of a dark-skinned bespectacled young man.
And with that, I bring the first chapter of "Sylvia's Solitary Soldier to a close. As always, I thank you for the time you took in reading this story. The next chapter will continue the story of Devon Tanisius and Sylvia Noventa. Plus some familiar characters will slowly start to make their appearances.
The author wishes to thank his friends and pre-readers C.Queen, Nova, and Lady Ash for their continued pressing him to get this and other stories worked on and out to share with you. I also want to thank my Technical Advisor for the help he has given me and I dedicate this first chapter to him; Eagle-1, this one's for you, compadre.
As always, any mistakes that you notice are mine and I apologize for those. To all of my readers who are competitive shooters, if I made any mistakes in regards to the correct way a shooting match is run and in any weapon calibers or preparation, I apologize profusely and will aim to correct that as the story goes along.
I hope that you have enjoyed this chapter and are awaiting the next one. Review if you want, I accept them all and as usual, flames will find their way into my 'File 13' to be promptly forgotten. Again, I thank you for taking your time in reading this.
Knightewolfe's Lair. 3-28-04
