Bounty Hunter Diaries Chapter 8: Guns are a girl's best friend. Rated PG-13 for language
Rated PG-13 for Pirate-like cursing.
Disclaimer: As much as I would love to be able to lay claim to Duo Maxwell (heh heh) I can't, because the only thing I currently own is my Kenshin plushie, and even he's licensed! Long story short, Gundam Wing in owned by other people. A/N: Thanks thanks for all the positive feedback I've gotten so far! You guys rock! (Leave me more! It makes me happy!)
I'm about to tell you something that could get me killed.
Heero Yuy snores. Like a foghorn.
After fifteen minutes of listening to his bleating, I decided to get the hell out of my apartment before he gave me a migraine. No wonder Relena broke up with him.
A quick check in the mirror stopped me from heading right out the door. I looked very, very scary. Hair sticking up everywhere, bleary, crusty eyes and I was fairly certain that my breath smelled like the devil. Not to mention I was still in my pajamas.
So, I tiptoed into my room and past Duo, who apparently could sleep through a nuclear attack, and ran a shower. When the water was hot enough for me, I stripped, stepped in and scrubbed myself pink. I briefly contemplated shaving my legs but decided against it. Hairy legs were my only defense against Duo Maxwell and his charms. I seriously doubted a bullet wound would slow him down.
Once I stepped out of the shower and dried off, I realized I had two problems. One, my pajamas were lying in a puddle of water on the floor (whoops) and two, my robe was hanging on my closet door, in my bedroom. Where Duo Maxwell currently slept in my bed. All I had to cover myself was a towel.
I sighed. There was no way I could avoid going into my room with nothing but a towel. All my clothes were in there. I peeked around the door and saw to my relief that Duo was still sleeping soundly. With my fingers crossed, I tiptoed into my room and rifled around my underwear drawer for a clean pair of panties and a bra.
I finally found my emergency pair, but was forced to admit that I really needed to do some laundry and soon. I slipped into them and my bra, slapped on some deodorant and gave myself a few squirts of body spray before turning to my closet to find something to wear.
I was examining a pair of jeans, trying to decide if the hole in the crotch really meant I couldn't wear them, when I felt a pair of eyes boring into my backside. My scantily clad backside. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap! He should be asleep, he had slept through everything else! Please don't let Duo Maxwell be awake.
"Let me guess, it's laundry day." His husky voice murmured from my bed.
I gave a little squeak and turned around, my holey jeans clutched to my chest.
"You're supposed to be asleep!" I nearly shrieked.
He grinned. "What can I say, I have naked girl radar." He said.
My face was bright red, I could feel the heat radiating from it.
He tried to sit up, wincing when he remembered the bullet hole in his chest.
"I hope that hurt!" I hissed, shooting him the dirtiest look I could muster. I then blindly reached into the closet and grabbed a random shirt, and, holding both the jeans and my shirt to my chest, ran like a woman chased by sharks into the bathroom.
Okay, so, if I was being chased by sharks, I would be swimming, but bear with me here, I was flustered.
Once in the harsh light of my bathroom, I looked down at my shirt and breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't grabbed something ugly. (My Aunt Tammie once gave me this horrid paisley shirt with puffy sleeves that hung in my closet, waiting for a disco revival) Luckily, I had grabbed one of my nicer shirts, a purple number with a low cut neckline that was casual enough to wear with jeans, even ones with a holey crotch. It was a small hole, anyway.
I dressed quickly, and, since I was still completely flustered, decided to armor myself with plenty of make-up and hairspray. Ten minutes later, I took one last long look in the mirror and gave myself the thumbs up. I was looking right sexy, and I had the perfect revenge in mind for the pervert. It had come to me while I was spraying my hair with ultra hold hairspray. Many of my best ideas come to me while I'm doing my hair, I think maybe it has something to do with all the chemicals in the air.
Duo had managed to prop himself up in bed when I emerged from my cocoon. "Hey, Hilde, I didn't mean to embarrass you." He said, his eyes roving up and down my body with blatant appreciation.
I grinned wickedly at him. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty, braided little head, Duo Maxwell." I fairly sang to him. "I have a perfect punishment in mind for you."
He raised his eyebrows. "If you need handcuffs, babe, I have a pair in my car."
I cackled and opened the bedroom door. "Hey, Heero, he's awake!" I said cheerfully, and, with one last look at his stricken face, waltzed out of my bedroom and out the front door, grabbing a long black cardigan and my purse as I left. I had plans for today.
My first plan was to visit Relena in the hospital, since I was both relieved that she was alive and worried about her safety, since someone had tried to kill her to frame Duo and she might just know who.
There are three hospitals that serve the colony. St. Patrick's, where Sally works, Community Memorial, which serves a mostly indigent population, and Health Alliance, which only accepts patients with Gold cards and silver spoons stuck up their asses. Relena wasn't indigent, but I was also fairly certain that the R&C Café wasn't a huge profit center, so I hopped in the Wreck and chugged to St. Patrick's.
The nurse stationed at the front desk wore a nametag that identified her as "Helen", but I seriously think it should have said: "Attila". She would have given Heero a run for his money in the scary faces department.
I asked to see Relena Darlian, and she informed me that Relena was on a secured floor and was not currently accepting unannounced visitors. I explained that I was a friend. She was unmoved. I asked if she could call and see if Relena would see me. She threatened to have security throw me out. I left then, vowing to ask Sally about Helen and see if there was any way I could have her maimed.
My next stop was Wufei's, where I hoped to pump Dannie for information about Trieze. With her artificial red hair, obsession with spandex, cheese flavored snacks and clown-like make-up, Wufei's secretary did not seem like a woman who could file alphabetically, let alone work the computer that sat on her desk. However, I knew that Dannie's appearance was deceiving. She was hell on a keyboard. Give her a name and in fifteen minutes, she would have their address, phone number, license plate, car registration, credit card numbers, medical history, banking information and criminal history displayed on her screen. Give her twenty minutes and you would know far more about a person than you ever wanted to.
I gave her Trieze's name and asked her to give me everything on him. If she recognized the name, she did not say.
I left her and went to the gun shop. The man who ran the place, whose nickname was Trigger, was a personal friend of Duo's. He remembered me from my rather large purchase a few days earlier and was quick to produce my gun.
When Duo had dragged me into the shop, I had initially been attracted to the Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum with the eight inch barrel. I had pointed the gun at my reflection in the mirror and said, "Do you feel lucky punk? Do you?", feeling very cool and not a little bit like some femme fatale in a James Bond movie or something. Duo had gently pried the gun from my fingers and told me that, while sometimes bigger is better, in this case, it wasn't.
"This gun will lift you off your feet and slam you into a wall, babe." He said, putting the gun back on the counter. He had a heated discussion with Trigger which resulted in the gun that I eventually bought. A double action Smith and Wesson 9 mm automatic pistol with a four inch barrel and 10 round capacity, in lovely stainless steel and black polymer. It weighed in at a light 24.7 ounces and fit nicely into my purse or the shoulder holster Trigger had thrown in after I'd spent over $100.00.
Trigger laid the gun down on the counter reverently. "Duo asked me to expedite the licensing process. You must be psychic, 'cause I was just about to call you to come get it." he said with a gap toothed grin.
Now, I might have mentioned this before, but I'd like to reiterate that I really, really REALLY hate guns. I'm the kind of person who's libel to kill myself in some sort of cookie-baking related disaster. With a gun, lord only knows what I'll do. But I was pissed. First, Trieze Khushrenada's attempt to frame Duo had backfired and injured a person I was beginning to consider a good friend. Second, Duo Maxwell had seen me in my most decrepit pair of panties and third, Heero Yuy's snoring had driven me out of my apartment. I was not having a good day, and I figured that pumping several rounds of ammunition into targets that I would pretend were Duo, Trieze and Heero, would be beneficial not only to my aim, but also to my overall well- being.
I took the gun from Trigger and plopped down twenty dollars, which was the standard fee to use the range. "I'd like to practice with this." I told Trigger. He nodded and handed me a box of ammo and ear plugs.
"Every station is open, just pick one and hit the switch to get the target movin'." He said.
I thanked him and went into the back, where the man-shaped targets waited in silence for me to shoot the shit out of them.
Now, I'm not one to advocate the use of guns as a therapeutic measure, but let me tell you, after an hour at the range, I felt great. My gun didn't seem so scary to me anymore. Trigger had suggested that I name it to make it seem less intimidating. I rolled my eyes, thinking that this was a typical man thing to suggest, but I did decide to name it.
I named it Leroy, I guess because Leroy sounds tough. Don't ask me why, but I once named a goldfish Russell because I thought it sounded 'fishy'.
I returned the empty ammo box to Trigger. He handed me the gun permit, which also gave me the right to carry concealed.
"Is this legal?" I asked him suspiciously.
He grinned. "Legal, illegal, it's all about perspective." He said cheerfully.
I sighed. Better pretend I never asked. I bought more ammo and tucked my unloaded gun away in my purse. I thanked Trigger for his help and went back to Wufei's to see what Dannie had produced.
She handed me a file folder full of paper. "There's things about this guy that even his own mama doesn't know." She said gleefully. "Hell, there's shit in there that I don't even think he knows."
I flipped through it, giving everything a cursory once-over. I saw his photograph from the police academy, where he was a clean-cut, good looking young recruit. Following his personnel files from the police were newspaper articles about the scandal that had brought Duo down, Trieze's eventual dismissal from the force, and small snippets from when he was arrested and from when he escaped. Dannie had also included things like his last known address, his driving record and vehicle information, medical and dental records, credit card history and, incredibly, a copy of his birth certificate.
"I don't think I want to know how you got all this." I told her seriously. She smiled beatifically.
"You just have to know what to type." She said cheerfully.
I thanked her and scooted out of the office, not really wanting to see Wufei.
I sat in the Wreck and looked more closely at his file. Trieze Khushrenada was a man who had lived a life of privilege. Everything had been handed to him, but he had squandered his opportunities and eventually, his dishonesty had caught up with him.
I was looking at one of the photographs of him that had appeared in the paper when he was on trial for his part in the bribery and brutality scandal, when I caught a familiar face hovering in the background of the picture. I pulled out more press photos and found her, always in the back, in three more. At first, I couldn't quite place her, but after a few long moments, it occurred to me where I had seen her.
She worked for Relena. She was the bored looking waitress who had been at the R&C the day I had gone to drown my sorrows in hot fudge and whipped cream. I felt my stomach drop and somehow, I knew.I knew that she was involved.
Relena had called her Une. Une what? I needed to find out. I hopped out of the car and ran back into Wufei's office, hoping Dannie could help me out.
Catherine, Relena's business partner, lived with her brother in one of the nicer sections of the colony. Dannie had given me her address and phone number.
I thought about just calling, but my request was strange enough to warrant a personal visit. I chugged up in front of her house, the Wreck looking decidedly out of place among the carefully maintained lawns and houses, the newer model cars with luxuries like mufflers and matching doors.
There were lights on in her house and I hesitated only briefly before ringing the doorbell.
The door opened and I was looking into the familiar face of detective Quatre Winner. I looked down at the address scrawled on the front of Trieze's folder and back up at Quatre. I was very confused.
He smiled at me, slightly quizzical. "Oh my, don't tell me Cathy or Trowa has skipped bail, Miss Schbeiker."
I shook my head. "No.I was hoping to speak to Catherine. Are you here on police business?" I asked, curious as to why he was here.
He shook his head and I realized that a cop wouldn't have taken off his shoes, unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt and un-holstered his gun if he was on police business. "Oh, then you must be Catherine's boyfriend?" Damn it, I was sooo nosy, but I really couldn't help myself. I blame my mother and bad genetics.
"No, not Cathy's." He said, leaving the rest up to interpretation. When it finally occurred to me what he probably meant, my eyebrows met my hairline and my face tinted pink. He smiled.
"Come in." He said, stepping aside and waving me into the house. "I'll go tell her you're here, I think I last saw her heading to the bathroom, muttering about a shower."
He shooed me into the living room with instructions to make myself comfortable. I sat awkwardly on the couch and pondered what he had sort of told me. If he wasn't Catherine's boyfriend, then that left...
That left the handsome young man with the dark brown hair and serious eyes who walked into the living room and gave me an odd look.
I can't really blame him, I suppose. After all, if I walked into my living room and saw some wierd girl sitting on my couch, I would have probably given her a strange look, too.
"I'm here to see Catherine." I offered. He nodded, but said nothing. Was he mute?
I stood and offered my hand. "Hilde Schbeiker." He took it and smiled, if ever so very slightly. He had a strong grip and he looked me straight in the eyes.
"Trowa Barton. I've heard a lot about you, Miss Schbeiker."
I decided not to dwell on that and took my place on the couch. He offered me a drink that I politely refused and ended up perching on the oversized, plush arm of the couch.
"Catherine just got back from visiting Relena in the hospital." He said, stretching his arms over his head. "She's in the shower."
I nodded and stared at my feet. What on earth could I say to him? 'So, I hear you're gay?' Nope, that wouldn't work, and knowing me, that's probably what would pop out of my mouth the moment it opened. I decided to keep my lips clamped shut. The minutes seemed to creep by and I busied myself by studying the pattern on the couch upholstery. Plaid, very nice.
Trowa cleared his throat. "So, you're a bounty hunter, right?" He asked me, his voice pleasantly rich and masculine. "How does one get into that particular field?"
I smiled and unclamped my lips. "By accident, I think."
He chuckled. "Some of the best careers are had by accident." He observed.
I nodded. "What do you do?" This was safe territory, unless he was a male stripper or something.
"Entertain." He replied mysteriously. Oh shit, he was a stripper.
He looked at my stricken expression and hastened to explain.
"I'm a trapeze artist and sometimes I work with the lions, as well." He said. "I work for Circus Circus downtown."
I was dumbfounded. I had never, ever met a circus performer before. "Do you get dental with that?" I managed to ask.
He laughed and shook his head. "The lions have better health care than I do."
"Well, it's probably a good idea to keep them happy, right?" I asked, wide- eyed.
He nodded. "True. I'd rather not lose an arm. It would hinder my abilities as an acrobat."
My next question came tumbling out of my mouth before I had an opportunity to phrase it correctly.
"So, you must be very flexible then?"
He smiled.
"I think he is." Quatre answered as he and Catherine came through the door. I looked from him to Trowa, who was smiling his mysterious smile, and back to Quatre again, my face tomato red.
"We'll leave you two to talk." Trowa said politely, rising off the couch arm in a single graceful movement. He grabbed Quatre's hand and the two disappeared down the hallway, Quatre's laughter trailing away behind them.
Catherine, whose auburn tinted hair was swept up in a sloppy, wet ponytail, giggled. She was still giggling when she came up to me and shook my hand. "Pleased to meet you, Hilde. Relena's told me a lot about you."
She gestured to the couch and we both sat. I, of course, immediately asked her how Relena was doing.
"She's fine." Catherine replied easily. "She lost some blood and has a bullet embedded in her arm and some cracked ribs from the impact of the bullets to her Kevlar vest, but other than that.she's mostly just pissed off, and worried about Duo."
I nodded. "Next time you see her, will you please tell her that Duo is fine?"
Catherine raised an eyebrow but nodded.
"Listen, Catherine, I didn't just come here to ask about Relena." I said, taking Trieze's folder from the floor, where I had left it. "I need to ask you about one of your employees, Une."
Catherine was, at first puzzled, then concerned and, finally, angry as I showed her the photos from the file and explained my theory about Une and Trieze.
"That little whore!" She spat, clenching the couch cushions in anger.
"Well...I could be wrong, Catherine." I said, a little worried about her reaction.
Catherine shook her head. "It sounds dead on to me. So, what can I do for you?"
"I need her address." I said.
She frowned. "Do the police know about this?"
I shook my head. "Not yet, I just found out myself."
"But you will tell them, right?" She released the couch cushions from her death grip and gnawed on her bottom lip.
"Of course. I just want to be sure." I replied. "I'd be really embarrassed if I sent them on a wild goose chase."
She nodded and rose from the couch. "Hold on, I think I've got Une's address on my computer." Muttering to herself, she left the room.
I shut Trieze's folder and looked around the room, studying the posters and pictures that decorated it.
Catherine came back in a few minutes later, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. "Her address was on her pay stubs." She said, handing me the paper.
I took it and looked at the address; I was vaguely familiar with the neighborhood.
I stood up and slipped the paper into Trieze's file. "Thanks for your help, Catherine. I really appreciate it."
She nodded and, surprisingly, gave me a quick hug. "Be careful, Hilde. It's dangerous out there."
I thanked her again and left, wondering what I had gotten myself into.
The drive to Une's blue collar neighborhood took me about ten minutes. It took me another five to find her house. It looked dark and empty, but I spied a small light burning through one of the side windows.
I turned off my car and sat, wondering what the hell I should do next. On an impulse, I fished around in my purse until I came up with Heero's card and my cell phone.
The first number rang without answer, so I disconnected and dialed the second, where Heero directed me to leave a message in his usually terse manner. I told him what was going on and my suspicions, because quite frankly, I was scared. If I suddenly disappeared, I wanted there to be a record somewhere of my theory.
When I was done, I called my own number, hoping Duo would pick up. He didn't, so I left a similar message on my own machine. Feeling slightly better, I switched off the phone and tossed it back in my purse, deciding to resume my impromptu stake-out.
It was about five minutes later when my door was yanked open and a hand reached in to pull me roughly out. Before I could say anything, something clapped over my mouth and my assailant hit me over the head. For the second time in nearly as many days, I was knocked unconscious.
Disclaimer: As much as I would love to be able to lay claim to Duo Maxwell (heh heh) I can't, because the only thing I currently own is my Kenshin plushie, and even he's licensed! Long story short, Gundam Wing in owned by other people. A/N: Thanks thanks for all the positive feedback I've gotten so far! You guys rock! (Leave me more! It makes me happy!)
I'm about to tell you something that could get me killed.
Heero Yuy snores. Like a foghorn.
After fifteen minutes of listening to his bleating, I decided to get the hell out of my apartment before he gave me a migraine. No wonder Relena broke up with him.
A quick check in the mirror stopped me from heading right out the door. I looked very, very scary. Hair sticking up everywhere, bleary, crusty eyes and I was fairly certain that my breath smelled like the devil. Not to mention I was still in my pajamas.
So, I tiptoed into my room and past Duo, who apparently could sleep through a nuclear attack, and ran a shower. When the water was hot enough for me, I stripped, stepped in and scrubbed myself pink. I briefly contemplated shaving my legs but decided against it. Hairy legs were my only defense against Duo Maxwell and his charms. I seriously doubted a bullet wound would slow him down.
Once I stepped out of the shower and dried off, I realized I had two problems. One, my pajamas were lying in a puddle of water on the floor (whoops) and two, my robe was hanging on my closet door, in my bedroom. Where Duo Maxwell currently slept in my bed. All I had to cover myself was a towel.
I sighed. There was no way I could avoid going into my room with nothing but a towel. All my clothes were in there. I peeked around the door and saw to my relief that Duo was still sleeping soundly. With my fingers crossed, I tiptoed into my room and rifled around my underwear drawer for a clean pair of panties and a bra.
I finally found my emergency pair, but was forced to admit that I really needed to do some laundry and soon. I slipped into them and my bra, slapped on some deodorant and gave myself a few squirts of body spray before turning to my closet to find something to wear.
I was examining a pair of jeans, trying to decide if the hole in the crotch really meant I couldn't wear them, when I felt a pair of eyes boring into my backside. My scantily clad backside. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap! He should be asleep, he had slept through everything else! Please don't let Duo Maxwell be awake.
"Let me guess, it's laundry day." His husky voice murmured from my bed.
I gave a little squeak and turned around, my holey jeans clutched to my chest.
"You're supposed to be asleep!" I nearly shrieked.
He grinned. "What can I say, I have naked girl radar." He said.
My face was bright red, I could feel the heat radiating from it.
He tried to sit up, wincing when he remembered the bullet hole in his chest.
"I hope that hurt!" I hissed, shooting him the dirtiest look I could muster. I then blindly reached into the closet and grabbed a random shirt, and, holding both the jeans and my shirt to my chest, ran like a woman chased by sharks into the bathroom.
Okay, so, if I was being chased by sharks, I would be swimming, but bear with me here, I was flustered.
Once in the harsh light of my bathroom, I looked down at my shirt and breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't grabbed something ugly. (My Aunt Tammie once gave me this horrid paisley shirt with puffy sleeves that hung in my closet, waiting for a disco revival) Luckily, I had grabbed one of my nicer shirts, a purple number with a low cut neckline that was casual enough to wear with jeans, even ones with a holey crotch. It was a small hole, anyway.
I dressed quickly, and, since I was still completely flustered, decided to armor myself with plenty of make-up and hairspray. Ten minutes later, I took one last long look in the mirror and gave myself the thumbs up. I was looking right sexy, and I had the perfect revenge in mind for the pervert. It had come to me while I was spraying my hair with ultra hold hairspray. Many of my best ideas come to me while I'm doing my hair, I think maybe it has something to do with all the chemicals in the air.
Duo had managed to prop himself up in bed when I emerged from my cocoon. "Hey, Hilde, I didn't mean to embarrass you." He said, his eyes roving up and down my body with blatant appreciation.
I grinned wickedly at him. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty, braided little head, Duo Maxwell." I fairly sang to him. "I have a perfect punishment in mind for you."
He raised his eyebrows. "If you need handcuffs, babe, I have a pair in my car."
I cackled and opened the bedroom door. "Hey, Heero, he's awake!" I said cheerfully, and, with one last look at his stricken face, waltzed out of my bedroom and out the front door, grabbing a long black cardigan and my purse as I left. I had plans for today.
My first plan was to visit Relena in the hospital, since I was both relieved that she was alive and worried about her safety, since someone had tried to kill her to frame Duo and she might just know who.
There are three hospitals that serve the colony. St. Patrick's, where Sally works, Community Memorial, which serves a mostly indigent population, and Health Alliance, which only accepts patients with Gold cards and silver spoons stuck up their asses. Relena wasn't indigent, but I was also fairly certain that the R&C Café wasn't a huge profit center, so I hopped in the Wreck and chugged to St. Patrick's.
The nurse stationed at the front desk wore a nametag that identified her as "Helen", but I seriously think it should have said: "Attila". She would have given Heero a run for his money in the scary faces department.
I asked to see Relena Darlian, and she informed me that Relena was on a secured floor and was not currently accepting unannounced visitors. I explained that I was a friend. She was unmoved. I asked if she could call and see if Relena would see me. She threatened to have security throw me out. I left then, vowing to ask Sally about Helen and see if there was any way I could have her maimed.
My next stop was Wufei's, where I hoped to pump Dannie for information about Trieze. With her artificial red hair, obsession with spandex, cheese flavored snacks and clown-like make-up, Wufei's secretary did not seem like a woman who could file alphabetically, let alone work the computer that sat on her desk. However, I knew that Dannie's appearance was deceiving. She was hell on a keyboard. Give her a name and in fifteen minutes, she would have their address, phone number, license plate, car registration, credit card numbers, medical history, banking information and criminal history displayed on her screen. Give her twenty minutes and you would know far more about a person than you ever wanted to.
I gave her Trieze's name and asked her to give me everything on him. If she recognized the name, she did not say.
I left her and went to the gun shop. The man who ran the place, whose nickname was Trigger, was a personal friend of Duo's. He remembered me from my rather large purchase a few days earlier and was quick to produce my gun.
When Duo had dragged me into the shop, I had initially been attracted to the Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum with the eight inch barrel. I had pointed the gun at my reflection in the mirror and said, "Do you feel lucky punk? Do you?", feeling very cool and not a little bit like some femme fatale in a James Bond movie or something. Duo had gently pried the gun from my fingers and told me that, while sometimes bigger is better, in this case, it wasn't.
"This gun will lift you off your feet and slam you into a wall, babe." He said, putting the gun back on the counter. He had a heated discussion with Trigger which resulted in the gun that I eventually bought. A double action Smith and Wesson 9 mm automatic pistol with a four inch barrel and 10 round capacity, in lovely stainless steel and black polymer. It weighed in at a light 24.7 ounces and fit nicely into my purse or the shoulder holster Trigger had thrown in after I'd spent over $100.00.
Trigger laid the gun down on the counter reverently. "Duo asked me to expedite the licensing process. You must be psychic, 'cause I was just about to call you to come get it." he said with a gap toothed grin.
Now, I might have mentioned this before, but I'd like to reiterate that I really, really REALLY hate guns. I'm the kind of person who's libel to kill myself in some sort of cookie-baking related disaster. With a gun, lord only knows what I'll do. But I was pissed. First, Trieze Khushrenada's attempt to frame Duo had backfired and injured a person I was beginning to consider a good friend. Second, Duo Maxwell had seen me in my most decrepit pair of panties and third, Heero Yuy's snoring had driven me out of my apartment. I was not having a good day, and I figured that pumping several rounds of ammunition into targets that I would pretend were Duo, Trieze and Heero, would be beneficial not only to my aim, but also to my overall well- being.
I took the gun from Trigger and plopped down twenty dollars, which was the standard fee to use the range. "I'd like to practice with this." I told Trigger. He nodded and handed me a box of ammo and ear plugs.
"Every station is open, just pick one and hit the switch to get the target movin'." He said.
I thanked him and went into the back, where the man-shaped targets waited in silence for me to shoot the shit out of them.
Now, I'm not one to advocate the use of guns as a therapeutic measure, but let me tell you, after an hour at the range, I felt great. My gun didn't seem so scary to me anymore. Trigger had suggested that I name it to make it seem less intimidating. I rolled my eyes, thinking that this was a typical man thing to suggest, but I did decide to name it.
I named it Leroy, I guess because Leroy sounds tough. Don't ask me why, but I once named a goldfish Russell because I thought it sounded 'fishy'.
I returned the empty ammo box to Trigger. He handed me the gun permit, which also gave me the right to carry concealed.
"Is this legal?" I asked him suspiciously.
He grinned. "Legal, illegal, it's all about perspective." He said cheerfully.
I sighed. Better pretend I never asked. I bought more ammo and tucked my unloaded gun away in my purse. I thanked Trigger for his help and went back to Wufei's to see what Dannie had produced.
She handed me a file folder full of paper. "There's things about this guy that even his own mama doesn't know." She said gleefully. "Hell, there's shit in there that I don't even think he knows."
I flipped through it, giving everything a cursory once-over. I saw his photograph from the police academy, where he was a clean-cut, good looking young recruit. Following his personnel files from the police were newspaper articles about the scandal that had brought Duo down, Trieze's eventual dismissal from the force, and small snippets from when he was arrested and from when he escaped. Dannie had also included things like his last known address, his driving record and vehicle information, medical and dental records, credit card history and, incredibly, a copy of his birth certificate.
"I don't think I want to know how you got all this." I told her seriously. She smiled beatifically.
"You just have to know what to type." She said cheerfully.
I thanked her and scooted out of the office, not really wanting to see Wufei.
I sat in the Wreck and looked more closely at his file. Trieze Khushrenada was a man who had lived a life of privilege. Everything had been handed to him, but he had squandered his opportunities and eventually, his dishonesty had caught up with him.
I was looking at one of the photographs of him that had appeared in the paper when he was on trial for his part in the bribery and brutality scandal, when I caught a familiar face hovering in the background of the picture. I pulled out more press photos and found her, always in the back, in three more. At first, I couldn't quite place her, but after a few long moments, it occurred to me where I had seen her.
She worked for Relena. She was the bored looking waitress who had been at the R&C the day I had gone to drown my sorrows in hot fudge and whipped cream. I felt my stomach drop and somehow, I knew.I knew that she was involved.
Relena had called her Une. Une what? I needed to find out. I hopped out of the car and ran back into Wufei's office, hoping Dannie could help me out.
Catherine, Relena's business partner, lived with her brother in one of the nicer sections of the colony. Dannie had given me her address and phone number.
I thought about just calling, but my request was strange enough to warrant a personal visit. I chugged up in front of her house, the Wreck looking decidedly out of place among the carefully maintained lawns and houses, the newer model cars with luxuries like mufflers and matching doors.
There were lights on in her house and I hesitated only briefly before ringing the doorbell.
The door opened and I was looking into the familiar face of detective Quatre Winner. I looked down at the address scrawled on the front of Trieze's folder and back up at Quatre. I was very confused.
He smiled at me, slightly quizzical. "Oh my, don't tell me Cathy or Trowa has skipped bail, Miss Schbeiker."
I shook my head. "No.I was hoping to speak to Catherine. Are you here on police business?" I asked, curious as to why he was here.
He shook his head and I realized that a cop wouldn't have taken off his shoes, unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt and un-holstered his gun if he was on police business. "Oh, then you must be Catherine's boyfriend?" Damn it, I was sooo nosy, but I really couldn't help myself. I blame my mother and bad genetics.
"No, not Cathy's." He said, leaving the rest up to interpretation. When it finally occurred to me what he probably meant, my eyebrows met my hairline and my face tinted pink. He smiled.
"Come in." He said, stepping aside and waving me into the house. "I'll go tell her you're here, I think I last saw her heading to the bathroom, muttering about a shower."
He shooed me into the living room with instructions to make myself comfortable. I sat awkwardly on the couch and pondered what he had sort of told me. If he wasn't Catherine's boyfriend, then that left...
That left the handsome young man with the dark brown hair and serious eyes who walked into the living room and gave me an odd look.
I can't really blame him, I suppose. After all, if I walked into my living room and saw some wierd girl sitting on my couch, I would have probably given her a strange look, too.
"I'm here to see Catherine." I offered. He nodded, but said nothing. Was he mute?
I stood and offered my hand. "Hilde Schbeiker." He took it and smiled, if ever so very slightly. He had a strong grip and he looked me straight in the eyes.
"Trowa Barton. I've heard a lot about you, Miss Schbeiker."
I decided not to dwell on that and took my place on the couch. He offered me a drink that I politely refused and ended up perching on the oversized, plush arm of the couch.
"Catherine just got back from visiting Relena in the hospital." He said, stretching his arms over his head. "She's in the shower."
I nodded and stared at my feet. What on earth could I say to him? 'So, I hear you're gay?' Nope, that wouldn't work, and knowing me, that's probably what would pop out of my mouth the moment it opened. I decided to keep my lips clamped shut. The minutes seemed to creep by and I busied myself by studying the pattern on the couch upholstery. Plaid, very nice.
Trowa cleared his throat. "So, you're a bounty hunter, right?" He asked me, his voice pleasantly rich and masculine. "How does one get into that particular field?"
I smiled and unclamped my lips. "By accident, I think."
He chuckled. "Some of the best careers are had by accident." He observed.
I nodded. "What do you do?" This was safe territory, unless he was a male stripper or something.
"Entertain." He replied mysteriously. Oh shit, he was a stripper.
He looked at my stricken expression and hastened to explain.
"I'm a trapeze artist and sometimes I work with the lions, as well." He said. "I work for Circus Circus downtown."
I was dumbfounded. I had never, ever met a circus performer before. "Do you get dental with that?" I managed to ask.
He laughed and shook his head. "The lions have better health care than I do."
"Well, it's probably a good idea to keep them happy, right?" I asked, wide- eyed.
He nodded. "True. I'd rather not lose an arm. It would hinder my abilities as an acrobat."
My next question came tumbling out of my mouth before I had an opportunity to phrase it correctly.
"So, you must be very flexible then?"
He smiled.
"I think he is." Quatre answered as he and Catherine came through the door. I looked from him to Trowa, who was smiling his mysterious smile, and back to Quatre again, my face tomato red.
"We'll leave you two to talk." Trowa said politely, rising off the couch arm in a single graceful movement. He grabbed Quatre's hand and the two disappeared down the hallway, Quatre's laughter trailing away behind them.
Catherine, whose auburn tinted hair was swept up in a sloppy, wet ponytail, giggled. She was still giggling when she came up to me and shook my hand. "Pleased to meet you, Hilde. Relena's told me a lot about you."
She gestured to the couch and we both sat. I, of course, immediately asked her how Relena was doing.
"She's fine." Catherine replied easily. "She lost some blood and has a bullet embedded in her arm and some cracked ribs from the impact of the bullets to her Kevlar vest, but other than that.she's mostly just pissed off, and worried about Duo."
I nodded. "Next time you see her, will you please tell her that Duo is fine?"
Catherine raised an eyebrow but nodded.
"Listen, Catherine, I didn't just come here to ask about Relena." I said, taking Trieze's folder from the floor, where I had left it. "I need to ask you about one of your employees, Une."
Catherine was, at first puzzled, then concerned and, finally, angry as I showed her the photos from the file and explained my theory about Une and Trieze.
"That little whore!" She spat, clenching the couch cushions in anger.
"Well...I could be wrong, Catherine." I said, a little worried about her reaction.
Catherine shook her head. "It sounds dead on to me. So, what can I do for you?"
"I need her address." I said.
She frowned. "Do the police know about this?"
I shook my head. "Not yet, I just found out myself."
"But you will tell them, right?" She released the couch cushions from her death grip and gnawed on her bottom lip.
"Of course. I just want to be sure." I replied. "I'd be really embarrassed if I sent them on a wild goose chase."
She nodded and rose from the couch. "Hold on, I think I've got Une's address on my computer." Muttering to herself, she left the room.
I shut Trieze's folder and looked around the room, studying the posters and pictures that decorated it.
Catherine came back in a few minutes later, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. "Her address was on her pay stubs." She said, handing me the paper.
I took it and looked at the address; I was vaguely familiar with the neighborhood.
I stood up and slipped the paper into Trieze's file. "Thanks for your help, Catherine. I really appreciate it."
She nodded and, surprisingly, gave me a quick hug. "Be careful, Hilde. It's dangerous out there."
I thanked her again and left, wondering what I had gotten myself into.
The drive to Une's blue collar neighborhood took me about ten minutes. It took me another five to find her house. It looked dark and empty, but I spied a small light burning through one of the side windows.
I turned off my car and sat, wondering what the hell I should do next. On an impulse, I fished around in my purse until I came up with Heero's card and my cell phone.
The first number rang without answer, so I disconnected and dialed the second, where Heero directed me to leave a message in his usually terse manner. I told him what was going on and my suspicions, because quite frankly, I was scared. If I suddenly disappeared, I wanted there to be a record somewhere of my theory.
When I was done, I called my own number, hoping Duo would pick up. He didn't, so I left a similar message on my own machine. Feeling slightly better, I switched off the phone and tossed it back in my purse, deciding to resume my impromptu stake-out.
It was about five minutes later when my door was yanked open and a hand reached in to pull me roughly out. Before I could say anything, something clapped over my mouth and my assailant hit me over the head. For the second time in nearly as many days, I was knocked unconscious.