Title: Exercising an Option
Author: Gina Lin Genre: Romance, Action, Adventure Pairings: 13+6, 1+2, 3+4, 5+S Warnings: Yaoi, AU, Language, Violence Rating: R Archived: FF.net, S_E Updates, GWFF
Chapter 19
Sanderson wiped the sweat from the back of his thick neck and adjusted the night vision goggles.
"Looks like lights out at the inn," he said into the two-way radio he was holding.
"Get your ass up here and coordinate," said a rough voice at the other end, and with a faint hiss of static, the connection was closed.
Sanderson grinned. He was finally going to get his revenge. Actually, he could have given a rat's ass about Les Noire's rabid environmental objectives. He'd have gladly wiped his ass with a spotted owl[1] if it got him a piece of Trieze Kushrenada. And they paid him well. Plenty of cash and sadism were his idea of a good time.
He crept back to the outcropping of rocks behind the inn that was a designated lookout point.
A striking, olive-skinned man with a shaved skull and chiseled features greeted him with an indifferent glance. They were all wearing black toned camouflage, blacked out faces, and night vision goggles around their necks.
"We're moving in tonight," he rasped. "Anyone fucks up, I'll shoot you myself." Sanderson nodded. There were three others, local "talent" that Sanderson had picked up. Expendable, in his opinion. No doubt in Marron's opinion too, he thought looking at the hawkish man with the shaved head.
"As long as we get paid," said a lanky specimen with stringy blond hair. He had the telltale prison tattoos of an oft time loser.
"Focus on the gig," said another, a short, muscular Cuban man with a livid scar on the side of his face. "I wanna get this over with, and get the fuck outta here." His dark hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and he put a hand to the knife on his belt.
"Fraid of the dark, Jose?" sneered the third man, who was blessed with a nondescript face and had short dark hair under his cap. At least this one had some experience as a mercenary. Sanderson thought McGuire might actually prove useful tonight.
"Fuck you and your whore of a mother," said the Latino man casually, spitting on the ground.
"Listen up, dickheads," said Marron, his faint French accent sounding at odds with his familiarity with American slang. "Everyone knows what to do. This should be in and out, hit and run. We want Peacecraft and his sister. You know what they look like. What you do with the rest is your business, and long as Reynaud has his prize."
"So, what did this guy do to piss you off so bad?" asked McGuire, in a disinterested voice.
"He saw someone he shouldn't have seen," said Marron. "Reynaud doesn't like loose ends."
"Hm," said McGuire in a bored tone. "Not the forgiving type, eh?"
"Far from it," said Marron. "I should know." He pulled up his arm and displayed a long scar. "And this was just for opening my mouth at the wrong time." He grinned humorlessly. "But, hey, he pays well, so what the hell, n'est-ce pas?" He shrugged.
"Sounds like a fun guy," drawled the blond sarcastically, who was only known to them as "Slim". He spat out a wad of tobacco he'd been nursing in his cheek. Marron grimaced distastefully. "Degoutant," he muttered.
"Let's do this thing," said the Cuban, fingering his knife again. "I'm getting fuckin' bored, man."
"Right," said McGuire.
"Estevez, take out the power, and phones." The Latino nodded and slid off noiselessly, invisibly into the darkness.
"McGuire, back door," said Marron. "Done," whispered McGuire.
"Slim, Sanderson, you're with me," said Marron. "We're going in through the side kitchen door after McGuire. Make one sound and I'll cut your throat, understand?"
"Yes sir," said Sanderson, looking insulted. Slim just nodded.
"Let's go then."
"Aren't you forgetting someone, Marron?" said a husky female voice. Une rose in the darkness, similarly clad as the others.
"Jamais, mon amour," said Marron. "I haven't forgotten you."
"You know what I want," she said simply, rising in the darkness. Her dark blonde hair was concealed with a black nylon watchcap.
"Mais certainment," said Marron in a low voice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quatre rolled over and listened for a moment before he opened one sleep- crusted eye. It was dark, so he realized he should not be awake.
Automatically, he sought the luminous dial on his travel alarm clock. 2 a.m. He began to wonder if a sound had woken him at this strange hour.
Not wanting to awaken his bedmate, he slid slowly out of the blankets. There was a muted sound of bedsprings as he crept to the bathroom lightswitch.
Nothing. He flipped it again.
"Tro!" he whispered loudly. Then he mentally smacked himself for whispering. What was it about being the dark that made one want to whisper?
"Tro!" he said more loudly.
"Heard you the first time," said a sleep rasped voice. "If you're waking me up for another romp, you insatiable slut, forget it."
"The lights are out," said Quatre, feeling his way back over to the bed. His eyes were quickly growing accustomed to the moonlight darkness.
"So, what do you need lights for? We're sleeping," said Trowa drowsily.
"Something's weird," answered Quatre, his eyes going unfocused in the dark as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Maybe Kushrenada forgot to pay the electric bill," said Trowa, pulling the blankets up to his chin.
Quatre reached over and yanked down the blankets. "HEY!" yelped Trowa.
"Get dressed," said Quatre firmly. "We're calling security. I got a bad vibe."
He picked up the phone.
"Trowa, the phone is dead," he said, hanging the receiver up. He stood up and felt around for the clothes he'd left folded on a chair; khaki cargo pants and a pale gold T-shirt.
He felt rather than saw the puzzled frown on Trowa's face.
"Okay, I'll get dressed." Trowa hurriedly pulled on blue jeans and a camouflage green tee.
"Can't find my blasted shoes," said Quatre, feeling around under the side of the bed.
"They're over here by mine," said Trowa. There was a thumping sound in the dark.
"Merde!" said Trowa loudly, rubbing his foot. "Stubbed my goddam toe."
"Oh for hell's sake," said Quatre. "Hand me my shoes."
He felt his moccasin toed loafers pressed into his hand.
"I'd give my left nut for a flashlight," grumbled Quatre.
"So would I," said Trowa, dryly.
"Sure, I have to make all the sacrifices in the relationship," said Quatre sarcastically.
"Let's see if we can find our way downstairs without killing ourselves," said Trowa.
"I'm right behind you," said Quatre.
Trowa laughed softly. "Is that all you can think about at a time like this?"
Quatre reached out in the dark and lightly smacked the back of his head.
"Ow," said Trowa.
"Quit making lame-ass jokes when I've got red-alerts going off in my head," said Quatre in a worried tone.
"Sorry," said Trowa, contritely.
They felt their way down the darkened hallway to Wufei's door, and knocked.
The door opened a few moments later. Quatre could barely make out Wufei's bare-chested form in the darkness.
"This better be good," said Wufei, blinking fiercely at him, arms folded across his chest.
"Power and phones are out," said Quatre in a low voice.
Wufei's eyes went wide. "That's odd."
"Hang on, I have my cell phone," he said, going back into his room.
"I think I packed a small flashlight and some matches too," said Wufei.
"Really?" asked Trowa.
"Hey, when Quatre said 'Montana' I pictured outhouses and sleeping bags in a tent," said Wufei. "Just threw in a few things in case."
There were the sounds of drawers opening and rustling. "Ah, found it," said Wufei.
A narrow beam of light came on in the dark room, making their eyes hurt for a moment.
"Now I can find my phone."
Wufei felt around in another drawer. "Here it is." He hit the speed dial.
"Who you calling?" asked Quatre.
"Sally," said Wufei. "I'm going to find out if it's just here or the whole area that's affected by the power and phone outages."
"Good idea," said Trowa.
"What do we do if it's not?" asked Quatre, sitting down carefully on Wufei's bed with an intensely thoughtful expression.
"We find out what the hell's going on," said Trowa.
"Sally," said Wufei after a few moments. "It's me."
There was a pause. "Power and phones are out here, they're obviously not there, are they?"
He paused again. "Thanks, you do that." Another pause. "I love you too."
Quatre made a faint clucking sound and sighed breathily, smiling at Wufei in spite of the rising tension in his gut.
"Say one word, and I'll circumcise you with my katana," grumped Wufei.
"Too late," said Trowa wryly, not able to resist.
"Sally's going to report the unusual power and phone outage to the police," Wufei said, ignoring the jibes.
"I wonder if anyone else has noticed what's going on?" asked Quatre, now focusing on their problem again.
"You brought your katana?" asked Quatre of Wufei, suddenly.
"Yes," said Wufei. "So I could practice my katas later on. Why?"
"Bring it," said Quatre.
He could sense Wufei's raised brows in the dim light of the torch.
"Humor me, okay?" he cajoled.
"Very well," replied Wufei. He walked over in the dark and went to the closet, pulling out a long case.
He opened it and drew out the long curved blade.
"I feel like an idiot," he grumbled.
"So, feel like an idiot," said Quatre, shrugging. "You'll live."
"Feel better now?" asked Trowa to Quatre.
"Yes," said Quatre shortly. The three men left Wufei's room and silently crept to the top of the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Duo scrabbled for the ringing phone.
"'Lo?" he rasped in sleep thick voice. ""Hoever this is, 'ate you."
"Duo, its Sally."
"Whadda want, crazy woman?"
"Duo, Wufei just called me on his cell phone from the inn, all the phone and power are out there. Quatre and Trowa are with him, and Quatre thinks something weird is going on. I can't leave Matt, so I was wondering if you and Heero could check it out."
Duo blinked grainy eyes and flicked on the bedside lamp. Heero opened one eye and looked at him, sleepiness giving him the deceptive appearance of winking.
"'Ro," Duo said, putting his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, "Sally says the power is out at the inn. Phones too."
Heero sat up, and yawning widely, reached for his pants. "Tell her we're on our way."
Standing up, Heero stretched, bowing his back until the finely etched muscles bunched and a cracking noise made Duo wince slightly.
Heero went over to a small bag, and after rummaging around a moment, brought out his pistol in shoulder holster, a spare ammo clip, and a box of ammunition.
Duo raised his brows. "You really think you're going to need that?"
Heero met his eyes with an intensity that made Duo look away after a few seconds. "I hope not." He quickly shrugged on a black T-shirt, and pulled on his running shoes. The holster was quickly buckled around his torso.
Duo shivered, realizing that he was meeting Heero the soldier.
"You're paranoid," said Duo, shaking his head.
"I'm careful," said Heero. "Do you know how to handle a weapon?"
"Sure, I have a .22 pistol for shooting varmints," said Duo.
"Get it," said Heero. "Gun that small won't stop a man, unless you aim for the head."
Duo gulped. "Shouldn't we just call the police?"
"We can get there much faster," said Heero. He grabbed a long knife in a leg sheath shoved up the leg of his black cargo pants and buckled it around his calf. "If it makes you feel better, I still have my private investigator's license."
Duo threw his legs over the side of the bed, and began to dress.
"Okay, but if squirrels have chewed through the phone lines, we're gonna feel real stupid blasting in there like Starsky and Hutch."
Heero gave him a puzzled look.
"You know, cheesy 70's cop show, two devastatingly handsome guys, sliding over the hood of the muscle car, whipping out guns?"
Heero slowly shook his head.
"Forget it," said Duo. He sighed. "Should I bring a knife too?"
Heero nodded, and Duo opened a locked drawer in a small desk and pulled out a six-inch long butterfly knife, and a pistol in a gunslinger style holster.
Heero raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, I had Billy the Kid delusions when I first moved here," said Duo defensively. "Wild West and all that shit."
He buckled on the low slung holster over his jeans, tying the holster securely around his right leg with the leather thongs.
"Draw, pardner," he drawled, pulling out the gun, checking the barrel and grabbing a box of bullets, stuck them in his pocket.
"Load it and put on the safety," said Heero. "An unloaded gun is worthless."
"An unloaded gun keeps me from shooting off my foot," grumbled Duo, but he complied.
"Are you any good with that thing?" asked Heero.
"I can shoot just fine," said Duo, offended. "Sally took me to the shooting range and showed me how when I bought the damn thing. I've practiced a lot."
"Besides, its probably nothing."
"Burglars would be my guess," said Heero, tossing Duo his car keys. "Let's go."
Duo looked hesitant.
"Come on," said Heero. "We'll go in, scare them off, and you can be Billy the Kid." He smirked.
Duo grinned roguishly. "Aw, you're on to me, ain't ya?"
"From the start," said Heero, as they locked the house behind them.
"Sorry Rusty," said Duo, locking him behind the gate as they left. The dog whined at them through the fence.
"No doggies allowed while Daddy and Heero are playing cowboys and ninjas."
Heero snorted on a laugh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
[1] An endangered species in North America
Author: Gina Lin Genre: Romance, Action, Adventure Pairings: 13+6, 1+2, 3+4, 5+S Warnings: Yaoi, AU, Language, Violence Rating: R Archived: FF.net, S_E Updates, GWFF
Chapter 19
Sanderson wiped the sweat from the back of his thick neck and adjusted the night vision goggles.
"Looks like lights out at the inn," he said into the two-way radio he was holding.
"Get your ass up here and coordinate," said a rough voice at the other end, and with a faint hiss of static, the connection was closed.
Sanderson grinned. He was finally going to get his revenge. Actually, he could have given a rat's ass about Les Noire's rabid environmental objectives. He'd have gladly wiped his ass with a spotted owl[1] if it got him a piece of Trieze Kushrenada. And they paid him well. Plenty of cash and sadism were his idea of a good time.
He crept back to the outcropping of rocks behind the inn that was a designated lookout point.
A striking, olive-skinned man with a shaved skull and chiseled features greeted him with an indifferent glance. They were all wearing black toned camouflage, blacked out faces, and night vision goggles around their necks.
"We're moving in tonight," he rasped. "Anyone fucks up, I'll shoot you myself." Sanderson nodded. There were three others, local "talent" that Sanderson had picked up. Expendable, in his opinion. No doubt in Marron's opinion too, he thought looking at the hawkish man with the shaved head.
"As long as we get paid," said a lanky specimen with stringy blond hair. He had the telltale prison tattoos of an oft time loser.
"Focus on the gig," said another, a short, muscular Cuban man with a livid scar on the side of his face. "I wanna get this over with, and get the fuck outta here." His dark hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and he put a hand to the knife on his belt.
"Fraid of the dark, Jose?" sneered the third man, who was blessed with a nondescript face and had short dark hair under his cap. At least this one had some experience as a mercenary. Sanderson thought McGuire might actually prove useful tonight.
"Fuck you and your whore of a mother," said the Latino man casually, spitting on the ground.
"Listen up, dickheads," said Marron, his faint French accent sounding at odds with his familiarity with American slang. "Everyone knows what to do. This should be in and out, hit and run. We want Peacecraft and his sister. You know what they look like. What you do with the rest is your business, and long as Reynaud has his prize."
"So, what did this guy do to piss you off so bad?" asked McGuire, in a disinterested voice.
"He saw someone he shouldn't have seen," said Marron. "Reynaud doesn't like loose ends."
"Hm," said McGuire in a bored tone. "Not the forgiving type, eh?"
"Far from it," said Marron. "I should know." He pulled up his arm and displayed a long scar. "And this was just for opening my mouth at the wrong time." He grinned humorlessly. "But, hey, he pays well, so what the hell, n'est-ce pas?" He shrugged.
"Sounds like a fun guy," drawled the blond sarcastically, who was only known to them as "Slim". He spat out a wad of tobacco he'd been nursing in his cheek. Marron grimaced distastefully. "Degoutant," he muttered.
"Let's do this thing," said the Cuban, fingering his knife again. "I'm getting fuckin' bored, man."
"Right," said McGuire.
"Estevez, take out the power, and phones." The Latino nodded and slid off noiselessly, invisibly into the darkness.
"McGuire, back door," said Marron. "Done," whispered McGuire.
"Slim, Sanderson, you're with me," said Marron. "We're going in through the side kitchen door after McGuire. Make one sound and I'll cut your throat, understand?"
"Yes sir," said Sanderson, looking insulted. Slim just nodded.
"Let's go then."
"Aren't you forgetting someone, Marron?" said a husky female voice. Une rose in the darkness, similarly clad as the others.
"Jamais, mon amour," said Marron. "I haven't forgotten you."
"You know what I want," she said simply, rising in the darkness. Her dark blonde hair was concealed with a black nylon watchcap.
"Mais certainment," said Marron in a low voice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quatre rolled over and listened for a moment before he opened one sleep- crusted eye. It was dark, so he realized he should not be awake.
Automatically, he sought the luminous dial on his travel alarm clock. 2 a.m. He began to wonder if a sound had woken him at this strange hour.
Not wanting to awaken his bedmate, he slid slowly out of the blankets. There was a muted sound of bedsprings as he crept to the bathroom lightswitch.
Nothing. He flipped it again.
"Tro!" he whispered loudly. Then he mentally smacked himself for whispering. What was it about being the dark that made one want to whisper?
"Tro!" he said more loudly.
"Heard you the first time," said a sleep rasped voice. "If you're waking me up for another romp, you insatiable slut, forget it."
"The lights are out," said Quatre, feeling his way back over to the bed. His eyes were quickly growing accustomed to the moonlight darkness.
"So, what do you need lights for? We're sleeping," said Trowa drowsily.
"Something's weird," answered Quatre, his eyes going unfocused in the dark as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Maybe Kushrenada forgot to pay the electric bill," said Trowa, pulling the blankets up to his chin.
Quatre reached over and yanked down the blankets. "HEY!" yelped Trowa.
"Get dressed," said Quatre firmly. "We're calling security. I got a bad vibe."
He picked up the phone.
"Trowa, the phone is dead," he said, hanging the receiver up. He stood up and felt around for the clothes he'd left folded on a chair; khaki cargo pants and a pale gold T-shirt.
He felt rather than saw the puzzled frown on Trowa's face.
"Okay, I'll get dressed." Trowa hurriedly pulled on blue jeans and a camouflage green tee.
"Can't find my blasted shoes," said Quatre, feeling around under the side of the bed.
"They're over here by mine," said Trowa. There was a thumping sound in the dark.
"Merde!" said Trowa loudly, rubbing his foot. "Stubbed my goddam toe."
"Oh for hell's sake," said Quatre. "Hand me my shoes."
He felt his moccasin toed loafers pressed into his hand.
"I'd give my left nut for a flashlight," grumbled Quatre.
"So would I," said Trowa, dryly.
"Sure, I have to make all the sacrifices in the relationship," said Quatre sarcastically.
"Let's see if we can find our way downstairs without killing ourselves," said Trowa.
"I'm right behind you," said Quatre.
Trowa laughed softly. "Is that all you can think about at a time like this?"
Quatre reached out in the dark and lightly smacked the back of his head.
"Ow," said Trowa.
"Quit making lame-ass jokes when I've got red-alerts going off in my head," said Quatre in a worried tone.
"Sorry," said Trowa, contritely.
They felt their way down the darkened hallway to Wufei's door, and knocked.
The door opened a few moments later. Quatre could barely make out Wufei's bare-chested form in the darkness.
"This better be good," said Wufei, blinking fiercely at him, arms folded across his chest.
"Power and phones are out," said Quatre in a low voice.
Wufei's eyes went wide. "That's odd."
"Hang on, I have my cell phone," he said, going back into his room.
"I think I packed a small flashlight and some matches too," said Wufei.
"Really?" asked Trowa.
"Hey, when Quatre said 'Montana' I pictured outhouses and sleeping bags in a tent," said Wufei. "Just threw in a few things in case."
There were the sounds of drawers opening and rustling. "Ah, found it," said Wufei.
A narrow beam of light came on in the dark room, making their eyes hurt for a moment.
"Now I can find my phone."
Wufei felt around in another drawer. "Here it is." He hit the speed dial.
"Who you calling?" asked Quatre.
"Sally," said Wufei. "I'm going to find out if it's just here or the whole area that's affected by the power and phone outages."
"Good idea," said Trowa.
"What do we do if it's not?" asked Quatre, sitting down carefully on Wufei's bed with an intensely thoughtful expression.
"We find out what the hell's going on," said Trowa.
"Sally," said Wufei after a few moments. "It's me."
There was a pause. "Power and phones are out here, they're obviously not there, are they?"
He paused again. "Thanks, you do that." Another pause. "I love you too."
Quatre made a faint clucking sound and sighed breathily, smiling at Wufei in spite of the rising tension in his gut.
"Say one word, and I'll circumcise you with my katana," grumped Wufei.
"Too late," said Trowa wryly, not able to resist.
"Sally's going to report the unusual power and phone outage to the police," Wufei said, ignoring the jibes.
"I wonder if anyone else has noticed what's going on?" asked Quatre, now focusing on their problem again.
"You brought your katana?" asked Quatre of Wufei, suddenly.
"Yes," said Wufei. "So I could practice my katas later on. Why?"
"Bring it," said Quatre.
He could sense Wufei's raised brows in the dim light of the torch.
"Humor me, okay?" he cajoled.
"Very well," replied Wufei. He walked over in the dark and went to the closet, pulling out a long case.
He opened it and drew out the long curved blade.
"I feel like an idiot," he grumbled.
"So, feel like an idiot," said Quatre, shrugging. "You'll live."
"Feel better now?" asked Trowa to Quatre.
"Yes," said Quatre shortly. The three men left Wufei's room and silently crept to the top of the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Duo scrabbled for the ringing phone.
"'Lo?" he rasped in sleep thick voice. ""Hoever this is, 'ate you."
"Duo, its Sally."
"Whadda want, crazy woman?"
"Duo, Wufei just called me on his cell phone from the inn, all the phone and power are out there. Quatre and Trowa are with him, and Quatre thinks something weird is going on. I can't leave Matt, so I was wondering if you and Heero could check it out."
Duo blinked grainy eyes and flicked on the bedside lamp. Heero opened one eye and looked at him, sleepiness giving him the deceptive appearance of winking.
"'Ro," Duo said, putting his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, "Sally says the power is out at the inn. Phones too."
Heero sat up, and yawning widely, reached for his pants. "Tell her we're on our way."
Standing up, Heero stretched, bowing his back until the finely etched muscles bunched and a cracking noise made Duo wince slightly.
Heero went over to a small bag, and after rummaging around a moment, brought out his pistol in shoulder holster, a spare ammo clip, and a box of ammunition.
Duo raised his brows. "You really think you're going to need that?"
Heero met his eyes with an intensity that made Duo look away after a few seconds. "I hope not." He quickly shrugged on a black T-shirt, and pulled on his running shoes. The holster was quickly buckled around his torso.
Duo shivered, realizing that he was meeting Heero the soldier.
"You're paranoid," said Duo, shaking his head.
"I'm careful," said Heero. "Do you know how to handle a weapon?"
"Sure, I have a .22 pistol for shooting varmints," said Duo.
"Get it," said Heero. "Gun that small won't stop a man, unless you aim for the head."
Duo gulped. "Shouldn't we just call the police?"
"We can get there much faster," said Heero. He grabbed a long knife in a leg sheath shoved up the leg of his black cargo pants and buckled it around his calf. "If it makes you feel better, I still have my private investigator's license."
Duo threw his legs over the side of the bed, and began to dress.
"Okay, but if squirrels have chewed through the phone lines, we're gonna feel real stupid blasting in there like Starsky and Hutch."
Heero gave him a puzzled look.
"You know, cheesy 70's cop show, two devastatingly handsome guys, sliding over the hood of the muscle car, whipping out guns?"
Heero slowly shook his head.
"Forget it," said Duo. He sighed. "Should I bring a knife too?"
Heero nodded, and Duo opened a locked drawer in a small desk and pulled out a six-inch long butterfly knife, and a pistol in a gunslinger style holster.
Heero raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, I had Billy the Kid delusions when I first moved here," said Duo defensively. "Wild West and all that shit."
He buckled on the low slung holster over his jeans, tying the holster securely around his right leg with the leather thongs.
"Draw, pardner," he drawled, pulling out the gun, checking the barrel and grabbing a box of bullets, stuck them in his pocket.
"Load it and put on the safety," said Heero. "An unloaded gun is worthless."
"An unloaded gun keeps me from shooting off my foot," grumbled Duo, but he complied.
"Are you any good with that thing?" asked Heero.
"I can shoot just fine," said Duo, offended. "Sally took me to the shooting range and showed me how when I bought the damn thing. I've practiced a lot."
"Besides, its probably nothing."
"Burglars would be my guess," said Heero, tossing Duo his car keys. "Let's go."
Duo looked hesitant.
"Come on," said Heero. "We'll go in, scare them off, and you can be Billy the Kid." He smirked.
Duo grinned roguishly. "Aw, you're on to me, ain't ya?"
"From the start," said Heero, as they locked the house behind them.
"Sorry Rusty," said Duo, locking him behind the gate as they left. The dog whined at them through the fence.
"No doggies allowed while Daddy and Heero are playing cowboys and ninjas."
Heero snorted on a laugh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
[1] An endangered species in North America