Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ War Inevitable ❯ The waiting is the worst part... ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

CHAPTER TWO




From where she was crouched behind a ledge atop a ten story building, the woman who frightened Emissary Caldwell stifled a sigh. The wind, bitterly cold at even this elevation, whistled past her and threatened to tear her black cap from her head. Shifting the heavy black rifle she cradled to one arm, she reached up and secured the hat. She rocked back on her heels, trying to ease the weight off her legs that were cramped from maintaining this position for hours. She cast a glance below her, where she could see everything and not be seen, but there was no sign of her target exiting from the building he had entered quite some time ago. She eased back down into her crouch and studied the building across from her. The lettering, carved into a stone plaque, read * Winner Industries *. It was, she had discovered during her research, the first and largest branch of the Winner Corporation here on Earth. The Winner Corp had expanded beyond the colonies and now provided resources to companies in both Earth and Space. There had been a lot of other things she had learned, but none was of relevance to what she must do.


She cast a quick glance down at her watch. Five hours had passed since she had arrived here, and three had passed since the target had entered the building. This was the hardest part of what she did; the long hours spent patiently in wait. After she was done here, she would head back to the hotel she had rented. She had a flight booked early the next morning to take her to Europe where the next target was. Or where his last known whereabouts had been. When she arrived, she would spend some time searching databanks and, if that proved unfruitful, would contact her employers for more information. The harsh wail of a siren momentarily startled her; she peered over the ledge to see a convoy of police cars surrounding an ambulance as they sped through the streets. The sound made her inexplicably homesick; she didn't like cities, she never had. Cities in America were that much worse, seeming louder and more chaotic than any others she had been to. She took solace in the fact that within twenty four hours she would be away from here, away from America entirely.


Movement caught her eye from the sidewalk below and across from her. Numerous people were emerging from the Winner Industries building, as though some sort of meeting had just let out. She raised herself into a better position, bringing the rifle up and against her shoulder. She brought her eye to the scope and patiently scanned the crowd. Most of the people were older, in their middle years; mostly men but some women too. Not seeing the target outside, she brought the crosshairs to rest directly over the doors to the building. Minutes passed. The people had dispersed, some in cabs, others walking, some on the bus. The wind whipped past her again, making her eyes water and tearing at her hat, but she didn't move. She watched pieces of garbage, carried by the wind, fly past her line of vision. The doors opened again, and she tensed. A large, burly dark skinned man walked out, followed by a small dark haired woman and several other people. She held her breath as they milled about.


There. There he was, standing a little behind and off to the side of the burly man. She had a part of him in the crosshairs, but it wasn't a shot that would kill. She slowly let her breath out, silently willing the dark skinned man to move. He did, and her target turned to walk after him.
Now - a clear shot.....


- Quatre Raberba Winner -


She pulled the trigger. The rifle rocked back against her, the silenced gunshot pulled away by the wind. She watched only long enough to see the blood stain the shirt, to see him crumple to the ground before she was stealthily running, bent low to the ground with the rifle over her shoulder. She made it to the stairwell and retrieved her rifle case that looked to be nothing more than a briefcase from where she had secured it beneath an air duct. Quickly and efficiently she took the rifle apart, putting each piece in its place. As she closed the case, she could hear the distant scream of sirens heading her way. She began running down the stairs, taking them two at a time. With her free hand she tore the cap off and let it fall behind her. The braid her hair had been bound up in was loose, but that was a part of the plan. By the time she had ttt reached the seventh floor her long black trench coat had been discarded. As she reached the lower floors she slowed her pace and worked at slowing her breathing. She walked calmly down the stairs to the first floor and exited the stairwell. She stared a moment out the lobby window of this business building she had chosen at the chaos outside; the flashing lights, the crowds, the horrified faces. People from within this building where crowding around the doors for a closer look and she could hear their fear and concern. She shifted her face into a similar expression and waded through them, towards the back exit. In the polished doors of the elevators she caught sight of herself; impeccable in a professional business jacket and long skirt that had a few wrinkles, her long hair falling in wild stylish disarray over her shoulders. Without a backward glance she exited the building and entered the ground level parkade. Minutes later her rental car, a black one this time, pulled away from the scene of the crime. As she drove to her hotel, she mentally crossed one name off the list she had been given.


Four more to go.