Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

And I know this may be shocking, but I'm gonna say it: the helicopter landed.

Une got in touch with meas soon as the tracking device showed a stop. We both knew it was only a matter of time before Heero – Heero's cyborg wannabe – found the thing, so we had to move, and we had to do it quickly.

Ever wonder why there were cyborgs like Greaves, then one like Heero? The thought had been trying very hard to poke me for a while now, but I'd never taken it into account. But according to Une, who was speaking according to the testimonies of the cyborgs who'd returned to HQ for testing and whatever, the ones that had shot at us on site were the ones who's minds had been tampered with. And the one who'd been trying to weep uncontrollably during our damn investigation had been the same, but the scientists had fucked up the amygdala and his emotions had been crazy. It was odd, because she spoke of 'putting him down' like one would a sick animal.

You know what, I suddenly realized, parking my car and getting my ass into Headquarters – front door this time – this was quite possibly the makings of the worst science fiction story ever. Yep; and the only thing that made it not-bullshit was the fact that the man I love – loved, loved – was in the thick of it.

My mind didn't even take in Une's words all that much – I caught the term “Las Vegas” and understood there'd be an interesting little flight ahead of us before we reached where we needed to go, along with a small problem of enormous population in relatively tiny city. I understood that we were getting a new batch of Preventors and weapons and Auto Assault-12 shotguns that shot frags and shit. Frags? Oh yeah. Sweeeet.

But beyond that was the ever-churning, ever-heavier thought that I was still on a mission to kill... to destroy the body of the man I love... d.

Could anyone possibly understand that? The idea that my Heero, the one thing that had saved me from my pathetic little self when I'd been sure I would stay in Space's arms until death, was gone. Because of me.

And not just gone. Used. Lost, but still there. And what was left had to be destroyed, and I couldn't leave his rest in anyone's hands but my own. It was the least I owed to him. The fact that my martyr side had kicked in to the point where I wanted to kill myself immediately afterward was supposed to be ignored, but really? It showed pretty much everything there was to know about me that I'd wanted to learn.

So when we were all climbing aboard our Preventors' jet, minus Blondie and the two Hulks and one extremely pissed off Wufei, all I could think was that this situation would be ridiculously hilarious if it weren't worse than my worst nightmares.

Without wanting or meaning to, my mind flashed back to those days during the war when just a word from Heero had been a treasure, and I found that I just couldn't begrudge Quatre and Relena their work on him, getting him to smile and laugh and... love... again. I couldn't begrudge them for it simply because it had been such a short amount of time.

I mean, think about it... he and I were around nineteen years old. Twenty? Not even legal to drink, and he was dead.

Jesus. We hadn't even lifted off and here I was fighting tears.

All around me on the plane were men laughing and joking with one another, pumped for the fight, adrenaline-rushed. It didn't chug through me like it did then; I would feel it later, when the jet was landing, when I could no longer ignore where I was going and why. I let my eyes study the jet and its occupants. Oddly I was happy that Wufei wasn't around. He would probably be stuck thinking the same things I was, trapped here in this plane. But that wasn't quite fair, because he was probably just thinking about them alone in his house, rolling around in a wheelchair and cursing his weakness. I knew the feeling.

At least I would have death looking me in the face. It was as good a distraction as any.

<*>

Okay. I'd been a street rat only my whole life, so I'd never needed to know what the hell Las Vegas was or why, even though it was fucking nighttime, the sky was lit like it was noon. No wonder the men had been so damn excited; there were so many damn lights I felt blinded. I stared out my window in pure shock. Where the fuck were we?

“Did you know,” a man beside me said excitedly, “that Las Vegas was once the brightest area when seen from space?”

“Not Tokyo?” another, deeper voice responded, “or NNY?”

The man snorted. “New New York is just a historical city now, dude. No reason for the light show, you know?”

I tuned them out. Brightest city? They were hiding in the brightest – excuse me – ex-brightest city in the world? Who the fuck did they think they were hiding from, the bogeyman? They had to know that major cities were the first places searched. Heero would know. Maybe they had shit they had to do?

Well, in any case, they were screwed now. I tensed, feeling the plane dip. Ever wondered about that? Unlike rockets and spaceships, jets and planes always seemed to drop like they were going down stairs. Plunk. Plunk. If only the air could make noises when it was hit. But wouldn't that get annoying?

It was time to get ready to do what I'd failed to do up to this point. Everyone else was doing the same as me, checking their shit and generally making sure they were ready in case Giraffe-Neck – what was his name? Holden... Landsing? Something like that – had somehow found out we were on his tail. Une informed the crew at large that the device was still blinking and was in the same place, but if Heero found it, then that hardly mattered at all. He'd just plop it to the ground and have Ass Face back up in the air and long gone. Though I have to admit that it broke several air laws to do so. Guess Peanut Anatomy didn't care about that.

Wufei wasn't here to kill that man-whore, so it was up to me to get vengeance for the both of us.

And I would.

“All right, everyone, listen up,” Une said, standing before the plane came to a complete and total stop. Guess we weren't exactly following all the rules of the air, either. “There is a hotel called the Rising Stars on the far East edge of the city.”

“Casino?” the Vegas-ologist behind me asked. Une just quirked her eyebrow sardonically. I took that to mean that Casino Hotels were the norm here.

Well, that would make this interesting. I remembered vaguely a movie I'd seen with a cop in street clothes darting around in a casino with armed thugs chasing after him. Hopefully we would not have any of that.

“We'll be going in in two groups,” she informed us, and continued to lay out a more detailed plan than she'd given us back at HQ. It involved a small sniper team set up in two hotel rooms in the building beside the Rising Stars and two teams, one manned by Lady... uh, I mean Commander... Une herself, and the other led by me again. A lot of the names she listed off as my crew sounded familiar and I recognized them from the bust on Caribol headquarters. Then she said we were going in the same way, one team the front line and the second the cavalry, as it were, and I remembered also a scene with a cop running through a kitchen area.

And why was I thinking of nuns in a casino?

And when Une informed us that my team would be first and that we were going through the back door to infiltrate, I almost busted out laughing.

“Everyone, get ready. We'll be taking civilian cars, no more than three in each car. Only the first two will be within the first block of the building. Each of you will get your assigned seat in a minute. Strike.” Duo cocked an eyebrow at her and waited. “You will be in the fifth car, and the four before you will head in without you, so give them good directions before they go in.”

I scowled, but it made sense. Heero sometimes seemed to have this sort of radar, and besides, any suspicious people would only be watched and not attacked simply because there was no obvious leader. Without a leader, who's to say they aren't just lost or strange little tourists? There was always someone in the front leading, but a group of people with no real leader could blend.

I nodded and just scowled there in my seat. It made sense. But I still hated it.

It took two bloody freaking hours for everyone to get into position, and by then it was full-blown dark – though you couldn't really bloody well tell because of all the damn lights. The four teams slipped in one after another – a group of two, a group of four, and two groups of three – and separated through the back, some immediately heading up. Our little hacker, who was actually not me this time, was following their progress through the place.

I gave them another minute before Heero sensed something was wrong. Unless he already had.

Then it was my turn to go in, and I did, with two others – a scrawny, freckled dude with hard gray eyes and a guy with surfer hair and a tan that matched the look. I hadn't bothered to learn their names – Freckles and Surfer were good enough.

“Up the stairs,” I murmured lowly, and pointed to a set no one had used yet. Of course there had to be three off the dead hallway.

Going up, the entire place shifted from plain and boring to absolutely extravagant. But even up on the second level, the chimes and rings and alarms and shouts and curses could still be heard loud and clear. Giraffe Neck needed to invest in better walls.

Everything was red and gold and covered with tapestries. My two little buddies checked the right hallway for danger while I checked the left. I gently touched my communication link – a brand new one to replace my old piece of shit – and said, “clear.” Surfer and Freckles both said the same for their end. Others in the building were calling out similarly.

“Group six,” Une said over our link, and I let their reports wash over me until a trigger word shot through.

“Direction?” I queried, and was told to go left. I slipped over to my two cohorts and led them through the hallway. Three doors on each side were supposed to be passed before a four-way intersection would come up. When we got there, my little minions checked left again and I right. “Clear.”

“Clear,” they told me.

This was just too fucking easy. Where were they? Had we gotten the wrong damn place? But even if we had, surely there would be some security somewhere.

“Une, what the fuck?” I demanded softly, and held up a hand for Surfer and Freckles to wait.

“I don't know. Just continue; we'll deal with it when we-”

Then she stopped talking altogether. I waited tensely, straining my ears. Had somethinng happened over on her end.

“Strike.”

I jumped a bit at the voice; it wasn't Une's. “Rasid?” I asked, even though I was fairly certain.

“That's right. I'm glad you remember me.”

“How couldn't I? You and Quatre were practically attached at the hip.”

“Yes. I have been sent here to assist you by Master Quatre.”

“Explain,” I snapped.

“Master Quatre came here for some rest after recovering from his last ordeal. When he heard of the situation here, he understood that he would be in danger and sent us to help take care of the situation.”

I couldn't imagine Quatre actually gambling. I understood it immediately for the cover-up it was. “How far have your men cleaned?” I asked, even as my head tried to wrap around the fact that Quatre was still doing everything he could to help me despite the fact that Trowa was bound and determined to hate my guts.

“We are currently about...” Duo imagined the big man looking over Une's charts. “Ten paces to the right of you. We saw Yuy in-”

“Heero?! Where?” Duo hissed, just barely remembering to keep his voice down.

“In the room just off the right of the turn,” the man said, sounding confused. “We believed him to have successfully taken care of Landsing-”

“That's not Heero,” Duo snapped. “Freckles, go assist the Maguanacs and inform them of the situation. Surfer, you're coming with me. We'll meet up with Yuy.”

“Sir,” both murmured.

Rasid cursed. “He is the enemy?”

“Yes.”

“Sir, he may very well know of our positions,” Surfer said.

“Then we'd better hurry,” Duo said lowly, snarling slightly. Hell. Having the Maguanacs was all well and good, but they'd totally blown their cover. But if Heero was this close and the opulent hallways this silent – going off the assumption that they would be this silent no matter what – their cover may well have gotten blown, anyway. Especially with all the gunfire there would have been. I wondered how the Maguanacs had gotten through.

“Let's move. Freckles, get going.”

Freckles went out just before we did, keeping low as he ran. We did the same, but we stopped on each side of the door in question while Freckles ran to meet up with the other Maguanacs.

With a nod to each other, we both busted down the door at the exact same instant.

There was another secret elevator, but it looked like we'd just caught Heero and Giraffe-Neck – Landsing – just before they got in and slid away. Heero immediately stepped off and pulled his gun on us.

“Sir, please leave,” Heero said, and bashed the wall – the button – and closed the elevator doors before Landsing could offer up agreement or contention. Surfer and I managed to hide behind the wall just in time to avoid becoming swiss cheese.

“Sir,” Surfer called to me, “I just thought you should know – it's Shurver, not Surfer.”

I wanted to laugh. The guy had actually thought I'd mistaken his last name. But I knew the laughter would morph into something a little bit interesting and swallowed it back. “Understood,” I gave him, and he smiled.

“And the other is Xeckler.”

What the fuck, man?

“Stay back,” I ordered, and threw a grenade, unwilling to try to whole frag launcher when Heero could blow me to pieces before I got it properly launched.

The room blew up predictably.

“Quick, go after that damn elevator,” I hissed. “Climb the cables if you have to. Maguanacs,” I called through the link, watching... Shurver... slide into the room while the dust hid him. “I need some back-up here; and make sure you secure that damn roof.” No more fucking flying off when the shit hits the fan.

I squinted into the room as the dust began to settle. Well, at least one room didn't look like the Taj Mahal anymore. I wasn't surprised to find the room empty, but it did make me fear for Mr. Not-Surfer. “Shurver, status,” I hissed, walking into the room.

“Clear,” I heard called back, and the man's voice wasn't quite low enough to mean he was only in clear for a little while longer. That meant Heero had found another way out.

I looked at all the broken windows and took an educated guess as to how.

“Goddammit,” I muttered, then, “good, Shurver. Stay on course. I'm going after Yuy.”

“Roger that.”

Shurver. The more I thought about it, the more the name sounded more like sherbet than anything else.

I stepped carefully through the mess, climbing over a couple loose boards and around a few tapestries that looked like they'd seen better days. If they'd been tapestries of war, I would have laughed at the irony.

Then I was to the windows, two hulking masses of now-open space that led to the roof right above this floor. The roof, I remembered, was red, while Heero had been dressed in a new outfit like a black-and-red suit. Almost military, and one that excellently showed off his muscular form. But that, I told myself firmly, was not Heero anymore. And that made my earlier thought just want to whine.

I carefully stretched a broken piece of wood out of the window and just barely let it flick, testing to see if Heero was waiting for pursuit. He wasn't.

Which meant he had an agenda.

And which meant he had all intentions of getting to said agenda before any of us managed to catch up with him.

I scrambled onto the ledge and carefully wiggled out a hand, ready to pull it back in an instant. Still there was no gunshot, or even any noise. Heero, then, was not on the roof immediately above me.

I climbed out and looked around. There were a few bystanders on the ground looking up and pointing at me – apparently the lights of Las Vegas made it easy as hell to see me. Well, if I'd been going for stealth, the jig was up.

“Sir,” I heard over the link, and recognized Shurver's voice. He was keeping it down – bad sign. “We're underground. Landsing is here, along with two others. Should we attack?”

“Guards?” I hissed.

“None, sir.”

I thought about it for a second, then called for Une.

“Yes, I know.” Her voice was low, too, seeming to react to the urgency she and I must have both been feeling. “There's someone else.”

“Someone higher than Landsing,” I confirmed. “Why else wouldn't Heero be protecting Landsing himself? There's someone else he needs to get to.”

“Understood. Shurvey, did you copy this?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good. Then I want you to take those three men. I'll send Maguanacs down to assist you.”

A woman from below suddenly screamed so loudly I almost fell off the roof in surprise. Son of a bitch; I'd almost forgotten about the casino below me.

“Keep them there. Strike, get Yuy. No matter what, dead or alive. Understand?”

As if she had to tell me. “No shit?” I sent back to her, and sent a glare in the vague direction of the ground below me. I hoped someone out there saw it; it looked stupid to glare at nothing.

“Strike,” she warned.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going.”

And I proceeded to do just that.