Author's Note: First off, I would like to say it is much longer than usual, and also that I'm proud of posting this so soon. *dances happily* So forgive me if the quality is rather rubbish...
Second, I hope you enjoy it. I hope that my characterization was accurate, as I haven't really done much with Nice and Jacuzzi before...
Third, I am not an expert on bombs. So I'm very sorry if I'm horribly inaccurate with whatever I wrote...
And fourth! There is a pattern to all my chapter titles (as well as the story title). It would make me all kinds of happy if anyone knew what it was... After this chapter title, though, I would assume it'd be a bit obvious, but then again, I'm me.
But enough of my rambling. Please read and review~!

Building the Barricade

Nice had all but forgotten the Pussyfoot incident the day that her most confusing order came. She was in the basement of an abandoned warehouse testing her most recent explosives when Nick came running up to her, a worried expression on his face.

Worried expressions were the bane of Nice's existence. Perhaps because she saw them all the time on Jacuzzi, she'd grown used to them. But on anyone else's face, they felt out of place. As if they definitely shouldn't be there. As if the person was stealing something from Jacuzzi.

Shaking the thoughts out of her head, Nice addressed Nick, not taking her eyes from the bomb in her hand. "What's up?"

"Hey, Boss. Um, there's this weird guy at the door. Said he has an order for you."

Nice looked up in mild surprise. "Did he?" She mulled over the information in her head before saying, "I'll come check him out. I didn't order anything."

"Boss-"

Nice didn't give Nick a chance to finish his thought. She threw the cherry bomb over her shoulder, forcing him to catch it or risk it exploding. It didn't occur to her to mention that it wasn't rigged.

She skipped up the steps rather cheerfully, almost laughing as she felt Nick's glare on her back. He'd complain later about the bomb, Nice knew.

As she emerged onto the first floor of the warehouse, she saw the "weird guy" Nick had mentioned in the entrance, formerly used as a loading dock. Nice narrowed her eyes. The guy's appearance didn't help on top of the fact he'd already lied about who he was. He had red hair, a sketchy looking trench coat, and was lazily looking around the warehouse as if he owned the place. Which, Nice supposed, he might have, if it'd been in any state of use.

"Hey," Nice called out to the guy. In hindsight, she supposed that that wasn't really the smartest idea in the world, but if worst came to worst, she did have a modified M26A2 in her back pocket.

As she approached him, she took in his features. He wasn't altogether handsome, but she had a nagging suspicion she'd seen his face somewhere before... Nice couldn't place it exactly, but something about his eyes...

"Hi, nice to meet you," he said, holding out a hand.

Nice shook it absently, still trying to place where she could've run into him.

"Well, I'm Vino."

"Nice," she stated simply.

Vino nodded, almost as if he knew her already. Which reminded her- why was this lying bastard here?

"So. You said you had an order?" Nice asked, rather coldly. She folded her arms across her chest, deciding that looking ominous was probably a good thing.

The man smiled at her. And there was something about his smile... It reminded Nice of something. It seemed familiar...

"Yeah. More accurately, I wish to order from you."

Nice blinked in surprise. "You... want to buy bombs?" His statement in itself was strange. In the business of producing and selling illegal merchandise, you didn't often come across people who blatantly told you their name. No, this was a careful business. Everything was handled on tiptoes. No one wanted their name too closely associated with contraband. And certainly no one ever showed up to claim it in person.

"Yes, to put it blatantly." Vino's smile was starting to unsettle her.

Nice's one good eye narrowed. Warily, she asked, "What is it that you want?"

"Oh, I was just hoping to look around and see what you have 'in stock'. I need them by tonight, you see." His aloof manner, and the way in which he spoke put her on guard. No one talked this casually about bombs; not even she did.

To Nice, bombs were something special. She cherished everything about them. And she especially loved the results. There was nothing better than watching a bomb explode, and seeing the powerful flames consuming everything in their path. It was merciless, but it was also beautiful. And it came in second only to Jacuzzi.

Thinking of Jacuzzi, Nice wondered if she should call him down from the second floor to talk over this so called "order." Usually Nice was the one who manufactured the bombs, and Jacuzzi took care of the selling. But this Vino was a different story, and Nice wanted to keep an eye on him.

"So what do you have?" Vino was starting to annoy her. He talked as if he owned the world, as if everything revolved around him. Nice did not appreciate it.

"Take a look," she said, in a colder voice than she'd intended to.

Vino began walking around the warehouse, observing her lovely bombs. He picked up her custom hand grenade and tossed it up and down with his right hand, still with that unsettling grin on his face.

"What's its kill radius?" he asked casually, assessing its weight.

"5.4 metres," Nice replied quietly, wishing that he'd stop handling her precious bomb.

"Not bad," Vino said, before putting it down and moving on to an MK3. He fiddled around with it, causing Nice great discomfort. After a few seconds, he finally voiced his thoughts. "I'm not really looking for big damage. Just enough firepower to make things interesting." Vino's eyes glistened with something comparable to maniac glee, and Nice almost flinched away.

"Well, if you're not interested in big damage, I have a modified smoke grenade that might be just the thing." Nice led him over to the opposite corner of the warehouse, pulling out a spherical bomb with a diameter of about three inches.

Vino took it in his hand, flipping it lightly, and examining it from all angles. "It's just the right size, and not too heavy..."

Nice smiled, taking pride in the bomb. "It releases a cloud of thick grey smoke upon heavy impact with something solid. It also doubles as an incendiary grenade, as it causes a small explosion. The flames consume the grey smoke, and die out once it's all gone."

Grinning, Vino threw it up in the air, and caught it. "Perfect. I'll take as many as you have."

Nice blinked in surprise, having been caught off guard by his remark. "All of them?"

He nodded, his smile surpassing concerning and rising straight up to creepy. Nice, holding back a shiver, turned slowly to the boxes and began packing them up, wondering what he might have in store.

A sudden movement behind her caused Nice to turn around, one hand already reaching for the bomb in her back pocket. Vino smiled at her, an action that was supposed to relax her, she guessed. It didn't. He held up his hands in mock surrender, a wallet in his right.

Nice relaxed a bit, some of the tension leaving her body, her hand moving away from the bomb for the time being.

"I owe you money for these, don't I?" Vino said nicely, rifling through his wallet. "Exactly how much?"

Nice tilted her head, pondering the question. How much? Usually Jacuzzi handled these things.

She mentally calculated the number of bombs, and estimated their price based on how much time she put into their production, and the parts needed. Since there were about 20 smoke grenades per box, Nice guessed the price to be around 4,000 dollars. She winced.

"Roughly four thousand dollars," she told him, and moved to keep packing up the boxes, though she doubted he had that much cash. To her utter astonishment, however, he forked over a great wad of bills, not even flinching as he relinquished them.

"One more thing," Vino said, as if only remembering. "Could you ship these to Grand Central Terminal, and mark them for the 7 o'clock morning train to Sacramento?"

Nice stared at him, trying hard to mask her shock. Was he really asking her to ship five crates of explosives to a widely known train station? But to her surprise, she found herself agreeing.

"Wonderful, thank you." He handed her another, much smaller wad. "That's for your troubles."

Nice nodded, putting the money in her front pocket. She watched him cross the warehouse to exit the way he came in, taking the air of superiority with him. After he disappeared through the doorway, Nice turned back to finish taping the boxes and marking them for their destination.

...

Vino smirked to himself as he walked along the street. Hands in his pockets, he slowly ambled down the sidewalk to his new destination. His plans were so close to succeeding... Why wouldn't they? The world was his, after all. Of course it should do things his way.

He waltzed through the door of the apartment building, spirits soaring. Vino made his way up the stairs to the correct apartment, and gave a light knock on the door.

"Ehh, Isaac!" he heard from inside.

"Nandai, Miria?" came another shout, this one more distant.

"There's some guy at the door!"

"Woah, really? Well, open it!"

The door swung open to reveal a grinning blonde girl. Vino smiled, and said, "Hi, there! Are you Miria Harvent?"

"Isaac! He knows my name!" Miria yelled, a hint of fear in her voice. She backed away from the door uncertainly. A brown-haired man came up behind her. He looked Vino up and down, a slight crease forming on his forehead as he concentrated, trying to place the face that looked so familiar.

"You must be Isaac. Hello," Vino greeted smoothly, a smile on his face. He extended a hand, which Isaac shook rather hesitantly.

"No need to worry. I'm only here to deliver a package." Vino produced the rectangular shaped parcel from behind his back, and handed it to the couple. On the brown wrapping paper was printed their names and address.

"Eh! Package?" Miria cried eagerly. She began to open it before Isaac interrupted her.

"Neh, Miria. Don't be rude. We should properly thank the man!" he admonished her, the usual grin back on his lips.

The two turned back to Vino, and chorused "Thank you!" in unison.

Vino smiled, replying, "No problem at all. Enjoy the gift." He turned to go back down the stairs, and the couple closed the door behind him.

Descending the stairs, a smirk formed on his face. Only one more thing to do...

...

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Trouble is back!" Ladd burst through the double doors into what used to be his uncle's study. He sat down in the elaborate leather chair, and propped his feet up on the desk leisurely, scanning over the paper in his hand once again. He was still grinning madly when he finished.

"Hey, boys, get in here!" he yelled.

A bunch of thugs filed into the study, waiting for further instruction.

Laughing, Ladd announced, "Boys, we're going on a train!"

He jumped out of his seat and almost did a dance around the room, finally exiting in search of his machine guns. His 'boys' hadn't seen him in such good spirit for months; practically skipping down the hallway, Ladd yelled, "I'm gonna kill, I'm gonna kill, I'm gonna kill 'im!"

...

It was late in the night, and Nice was peacefully lying in bed with Jacuzzi at her side. Though it was nearly midnight, and she'd had a long day, Nice still couldn't fall completely asleep. There was just one thing nagging at her thoughts...

She was finally beginning to drift into the clutches of sleep when she at last remembered what her mind had been so desperately trying to recover. Sitting straight up in bed, with an expression almost relatable to a look of horror, she remembered why Vino looked so familiar to her.

Nice swore. She'd just sold and shipped off bombs for the Rail Tracer.

"Jacuzzi," she whispered, shaking him awake.

"Mm? W-what's the matter, Nice?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

Face pale, Nice replied, "Jacuzzi, I messed up. We have to go on a train tomorrow."

Now wide awake, he sat up. Nice didn't often admit to making mistakes. "W-why? What d-did you do?" Jacuzzi said, tears starting to form already. Nice knew that he remembered the Pussyfoot better than she did.

"I kind of sold bombs to the Rail Tracer," she admitted.

"T-the Rail Tracer!" Jacuzzi wailed. "Nice! W-what're we gonna do? H-he's gonna k-kill us all!"

Nice's mouth was set in a grim line. "Jacuzzi, we have to go on that train tomorrow and get my bombs back. He could cause a lot of damage with those."

Tears continued streaming down Jacuzzi's cheeks, but he managed to stammer out, "A-alright, Nice. W-we'll stop him."