Disclaimer: No tengo nada...

A/N: To aduck8myshoes: viva el canario! Yeah, I was tempted to name a character "El Canario", but I had a feeling that no one else would get it.

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"Can't run, can't hide/ there's no way out" -Boomkat, "The Wreckoning"

El Aeropuerto Central

Mexico City, Mexico

The American airlines line that Jordan and Woody were standing in was moving very slowly. Good, thought Jordan. Maybe I'll have enough time to convince Woody to stay.

"Could this line move any slower?" Woody grumbled.

"You know, Woody," Jordan began, but he cut her off.

"No way, Jordan. There's no way you're going to convince me to stay. I'm going home, where it's safe."

"Safe?" Jordan snorted derisevly. "My dad and Garrett were killed by these same people back home, where it's 'safe.'"

"I'll go into witness protection."

"Yeah, the FBI will love that," she said sarcastically. "'These Mexican gangsters are after us because we murdered several of their associates, so you have to protect us instead of charging us.' C'mon Woody; whatever happened to 'in it until the end?'"

Woody bit his lip. "Things have changed. Besides, we have no idea who we're looking for in the first place."

Jordan shook her head. "We can't just give up."

"That's exactly what we're doing."

"Fine. Go ahead. Give up. I don't need you." She picked up her suitcase and stalked off towards the gift shop, a couple hundred yards away.

Woody jogged after her. "I'm not leaving without you, Jordan," he insisted.

"Then I guess you're not leaving."

They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Jordan finally looked away and instead focused on the front page of a Mexican newspaper. "Hey," she said. "Check it out. It's Avarro and Guitan's law firm."

"'Attack on law firm leaves four dead and 12 injured. Two partners, Javier Avarro and Carlos Guitan, are among the dead,'" Woody read. "'One of their clients, hotel executive Elvira Mendoza, will speak at their funeral' yada-yada-yada. 'No suspects have been named yet.' At least we're not suspects."

"Elvira Mendoza," Jordan said. "Who knows, maybe she's the Black Dragons link."

"Uh-uh. No way! Jordan, give it up."

She ignored him and tapped a man in a business suit on the shoulder. "Do you speak English?" she asked. He nodded. "Good. Do you know anything about Elvira Mendoza?"

"Yes I do. She's some business executive that works for a resort chain."

"Does she ever do anything illegal?" She ignored the 'you-did-not-just-ask-that' look Woody was giving her.

The businessman looked around. "Well, she's known as 'La Dragon Negra', if that's any sort of clue. Why? Are you investigating her for something?"

"Thank you very much, senor," Woody cut in. He grabbed Jordan by the arm. "Come on, Jordan. Let's go."

"I'd be careful if I were you," the man said. "There's a man in dark sunglasses who's been staring at you the entire time you've been here."

Woody half- dragged her into a small airport cafe next door. "What were you thinking?" he demanded.

"I found the Black Dragons link," she said.

He smacked himself on the forehead. "You're lucky that guy wasn't a Black Dragon himself! If he was, you could've gotten killed!"

"What, were you worried about me?"

"Yes I was, actually," he said gently. "You know I care about you."

Jordan felt her face turn hot. "Well, stop caring so much." She regreted saying those words as soon as they left her mouth.

There was a tense silence. "Fine," Woody finally said. "Just forget what I said."

"I'm sor-"

"Do you see a man in dark sunglasses nearby?" he interrupted.

Jordan looked around, grateful for the distraction. She spotted him entering the gift shop where they just were. "In there."

"Let's go," sighed Woody. "I'm sure there's another hotel nearby that we could check in at."

"Thanks." She half-smiled.

"For what? You would have stayed no matter what I did."

"True, but thanks for staying with me anyways."

"No problem." Actually, it was a problem, but he wasn't about to admit it.

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The man in dark sunglasses handed the man in the business suit an envelope full of cash. "El jefe gives his regards," he said.

The businessman nodded slowly. Poor Americanos, he thought. They should know better than to trust anyone, especially when such powerful people want them dead. He shivered, knowing exactly what would happen to the two Americans once they caught up with Elvira Mendoza, or if their enemies caught up with them first.

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As the day progressed, the airport steadily became more and more crowded. Jordan and Woody made their way through a swarm of people on their way to the exit. Someone crashed into Woody, causing him to drop his suitcase. A short, skinny man grabbed the bag and ran off. "Hey!" Woody shouted. "Get back here, you son of a bitch! That's mine!" The thief kept running.

Two miutes later, a large, muscular man in cargo pants made his way over to the Americans, Woody's suitcase in hand. "Here you go, senor," he said. "I hope the rest of your trip turns out to be better."

"Gracias," Woody said gratefully. He picked up his bag, and he and Jordan hurried away.

The man watched them go, a crooked smile on his face. He began to count seconds. They should be outside of the building by now, he thought, ten minutes later. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. '5-5-1-1-pound', he pressed, then hit 'send'. Two seconds later, he heard a satisfying explosion. People screamed, glass shattered, and car alarms went off. In the distance, he could hear the high pitched wail of sirens. A job well done. He pulled a pair of binoculars out of his other pocket and pushed pass the stunned people to the exit, in order to see the carnage he'd created. Through the smoke he could see a dark spot where the suitcase had exploded. Suprisingly, he could see no blood or any other evidence that two people exploded along with their luggage. He peered through the binoculars. A dark haired man and woman- barely visible due to their distance, even with binoculars- were running as fast as they could away from the blast site.

"No," the man whispered as he was hit with a wave of shock and horror. How could they not be dead? What will El Primero do to me, once he realizes that I failed?

The cell phone rang. With shaking hands, he answered it. "Hola," he whispered, mouth dry.

"Are they dead yet?" the deep voice of one of El Primero's lietenants asked.

"No, sir." There's no use lying; they'd find out anyways. "I don't know what happened. I guess these Americans are smarter than we think."

"We?" The deep voice was cold. "Turn around, maggot."

He did so and, to his horror, saw the dark outline of a Black Dragon sniper lying prone on the roof of the airport. He dropped the phone and took a step backwards. "No," he gasped.

He joined the phone on the ground shortly after.

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A/N: Yes, it's all a setup. Will Jordan and Woody be next? Oh wait, I'm writing this story, so I should know, shouldn't I?