Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

~ adieu ~

A/N: I've bought myself a highly enlightening book, The Little Black Book of Violence: What Every Young Man Needs to Know about Fighting by Lawrence A. Kane, Kris Wilder und Marc MacYoung. Parts of this chapter were strongly inspired by it.

"Okay", Ash said slowly. "Explain to me again, why are we doing this, now?" It was rather late in the evening for a training session. And Ash hadn't exactly volunteered for it either. In fact he had been busy eating his cereal and minding his own business when Guerrero had suddenly come into the kitchen and given him a stern look. "Third floor, ten minutes."

Ash had known better than to argue and had quickly followed Guerrero's orders, but now, with the chilly room temperature slowly causing goose bumps on his skin, his sore limbs protesting against any kind of additional exercise and a general tiredness telling him to go to bed, NOW, he decided he should at least get a better idea of what was going on.

"Because I feel like it", came Guerrero's reply and somehow the innocent words, out of his mouth, sounded a lot more sinister than they would have in connection with any other person Ash knew. "Are you in it or not?"

Tricky question. Training sessions with Guerrero were a treat and refusing one was equivalent to knocking chocolate out of a well-to-do aunt's hands. On the other hand, he was exhausted. Today he had practiced jumping for the first time and of course he had fallen again. Numerous times. Andrew, who had been watching in crutches from the boards, had counted each loudly, definitely having a good time.

Guerrero's gaze rested on him. Not urging him in any direction, just waiting. Ash had seen reptiles in the zoo with a very similar expression. Caimans, for example.

His aching knees told him to walk away. But what if Guerrero never made that offer again?

"I'm in."

Guerrero nodded, not appreciatively, just matter-of-factly, and took a sip from the tea cup he had brought with him.

"Why did you break that boy's leg?

If it hadn't been Guerrero, Ash would have rolled his eyes heavenwards and made some sort of groaning sound. Since it was Guerrero, however, he reduced his display of annoyance to a minimum. "Come on, that was weeks ago and I'm paying for it. Big time. My buddies aren't talking to me, girls don't return my calls and every evening I spend hours on those stupid blades, busting my ass to get those monkey moves right!"

"You haven't answered my question." Guerrero put the tea cup on the table where they usually laid out the guns when target shooting.

"It was an accident." By now Ash was working hard to keep the frustration out of his voice. He was definitely not in the mood for a parental-style lecture.

"You pushed a human being backwards down a flight of stairs. He could have broken things far worse than the tibia, including his neck."

"I wasn't thinking!" Deep shame turned Ash's face red.

"Now we're getting somewhere. You were indeed not thinking." Guerrero took a step towards him. "You were in Condition White."

Ash's expression made it very clear that he had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

"In Condition White, you're pretty much a lemming, dude. Distracted – there was a chick involved, wasn't it? – totally oblivious to your immediate surroundings. Your awareness of the situation was down. You didn't realize there was a flight of stairs although you were standing right on it."

As much as Ash hated it, Guerrero was right.

"Scan your surroundings, see who and what is ahead of you, look at reflecting windows to get an idea of what is behind you. Pay attention to the lay of the terrain, be it a street, a room or an actual landscape. Look for escape routes and opportunities to find cover or concealment. It's called Condition Yellow."

"Sounds pretty paranoid to me."

"It can make the difference between hurting someone and killing someone." Guerrero's message couldn't have been clearer – nothing but dumb luck had kept Ash from becoming responsible for another human being's death.

What he didn't say out loud, however, was that Condition Yellow also provided a certain, if by no means complete level of protection from being kidnapped. That state at least enabled people to defend themselves.

"Condition Orange means you've become aware of some non-specific breach of routine that might or might not pose a problem. In that condition you need to ascertain if and what measures you need to take. Pay attention to whatever caused you to take notice, but don't completely focus on it. Never lose track of your surroundings. Prepare a plan of action."

Ash frowned. This was highly interesting, no doubt, but somehow they had moved quite a bit away from the situation on the stairs of his old school, hadn't they?

"In Condition Red, you know there really is a threat. This is when your plan becomes reality. Be prepared to flee or fight. Fleeing, dude, is always the better option." Guerrero paused a brief moment, then decided it was wiser not to add that you could always come back later and kill your adversary in his sleep. "Only fight when you have to. Never because you want to teach someone a lesson. Move towards your escape route, areas of cover or concealment."

Ash couldn't remember when he had ever heard Guerrero speak so much. Calm, matter-of-factly, but still every sentence sent a shiver down his spine.

"Last color – black. Condition Black means you're under attack. Someone wants to hurt you, kill you or kidnap you."

Kidnap you.

Now Ash understood. This was about Michele. And Winston, downstairs, whom Dr. Grace had had to give some sedating stuff, to keep him from tossing the place. He had been in this state for almost a week now. It was horrible, seeing the big man like that.

"So, what condition should you be in right now, dude?" Guerrero's voice, suddenly sharper, startled the boy from his thoughts.

"Condition…" He didn't get any further. A well-aimed kick to the back of his right knee sent him face first to the floor. Damn, how had Guerrero managed to approach him this suddenly?

Oh yeah, right, he had been in Condition White again.

"Stay down." Guerrero's palm on his back, applying light pressure, just enough to keep him in prone position on the ground. Then, to his utter surprise, he felt a gun being pushed into his hand.

"Fire at the target", Guerrero instructed him.

"From here?"

"So you think an attacker will wait to let you take the traditional offhand position?"

With his neck twisted as it was, Ash couldn't see it, but he was pretty sure Guerrero was arching a mocking eyebrow at him.

And rightfully so.

He spent the next hour practicing shooting from the oddest angles.

When they finally rode up to the office again, Guerrero felt calmer, at least a little.