Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
The warehouse.
They had debated whether to meet the Crane or not and finally decided, since he had gone to great lengths to get in contact with them, they should at least listen to what he had to say. But not in Boston. On their own turf. And without Ilsa or Ames present.
Ilsa wasn't exactly keen on meeting the Crane anyway, she'd never be able to look at tools without a cold shiver down her spine again, thank you very much. Ames, however, was a different story. She still wasn't a hundred percent and they didn't want her in the same room with one of the world's most dangerous assassins. But how to keep her away from the meeting without hurting her feelings? She hated any implication that she wasn't alright.
To everyone's surprise Ilsa volunteered to take care of the matter. When inquired how, she smiled like an Egyptian cat – "It's a women's thing. You wouldn't understand."
Guerrero wagered fifty bucks with Winston that she'd take her to an expensive haircutter. "Chicks always cut their hair when they want to start all over again."
Winston said she'd only dye her hair, she was too proud of her long mane. Chance didn't want to take part. He was in a strangely somber mood ever since the Ames/heart ordeal.
Anyway, Ilsa and Ames were not present when the men met up with the Crane roughly 24 hours after they had left Boston.
"Never pictured you as the flower type", the Crane told Chance, taking in the office's appearance.
Ever since Alejandro had found out that Ames wasn't living at their house anymore, he had started sending her flowers to the office, pretty much turning it into a florist's. The daily deliveries had become so regular to all of them by now, Guerrero had started incorporating them into his security measurements, one day greeting them with the following instructions: "There's a machete hidden in the floor vase next to the elevator. The vase next to Winston's desk contains liquid acid, so be careful with it. And the red rose in the middle of the bouquet by the window is no rose, the stem is made of barbed wire."
"So the whole ordeal in Boston, fake client, fake threat and all was set up by you to test our abilities?", Chance asked, offering him a cup of coffee which he, naturally, declined.
Before the Crane could answer his question, however, Chance's attention was drawn to Guerrero who had just fished a white plastic bowl out of the fridge. "That's Ames' home made face pack", Chance warned him.
"The cucumber one?" Guerrero lifted the bowl's lid, sniffed at its content, took a fork from a drawer and started eating it. At the shocked faces of the others, he looked up. "What? Mashed cucumber and yoghurt, no artificial additives. Perfect snack. Got to watch my cholesterol." He gave Winston a pointed look.
"Ames, that's the girl you've got running with you, right? The thief? Is she living here? Are you two an item?" The Crane suddenly looked rather stern. Office affairs were very unprofessional.
"She's just…" Chance hesitated, unsure about the word choice. Staying here? Living here? No one had really addressed this issue yet. After they had held her captive to make sure she didn't kill herself, she simply hadn't gone home. Ilsa had collected some of her clothes and other items from her house, but she hadn't set a foot back in there. Instead she had pretty much moved into the office's guestroom.
Chance wasn't sure yet what to make of this. He had lived with Guerrero for longer periods of time when on a complicated job, but aside from that he was not used to having a flat mate. And surely not to one who left her dark red bra and panties in the washing machine where they dyed his complete white underwear pink because he had thrown in his stuff without looking. But aside from that… Ames needed time to get over the things she had been through lately and if that meant he had to wear pink underwear, so be it.
"We aren't an item", he told the Crane. "So what is all this about?"
The Crane placed three items on the kitchen table. The first one was a badly damaged circuit board, the second the photograph of a completely trashed room and the third a bottling jar with a hacked off finger floating in some sort of chemical fluid.
"A friend of mine is about to take over his family's business – a huge pharmaceutical company. He wants to start with a splash – the announcement that his scientists developed an anti-flu remedy. Apparently it's fantastic stuff, better than everything that's momentarily on the market."
"But someone doesn't like the idea…" Chance pointed at the items one by one. "Part of a bomb that blew up some lab or research center? Destroyed lab? Finger of the murdered head of the research department or some other important scientist?"
"All we could find of one the project's most capable researchers", the Crane nodded. "I've gone through everything, but I can't find the perpetrator and I'm running out of time. The date for the new research center's inauguration party with all the scientists and company bigwigs is set…"
"Perfect moment to strike…", Guerrero mused.
"My friend, the remedy, his whole company needs protection. Can't do that alone", the Crane said. "I need your help."
Winston snorted, along with Guerrero. They both broke off in mid-snort and stared at each other. Jinx?
"Why should we help you, of all people? Last time we met you were trying to kill Chance", Winston pointed out.
"This remedy", the Crane replied thoughtfully, "might make the world a better place. And that's kind of your line of business, isn't it?"
A/N: I won't be around for the next three days, so no new updates till Thursday, sorry...