Written by: Talon Harvilicz
Chapter 2: The Man I've Been Looking For
Trowa Barton watched as Quatre Raberba Winner's profile appeared in front of his computer screen. He was once property of Mr. Winner, the supplier and creator of a type of Third, then was disposed of when he turned "vicious". He was taken to a Third Holding House for a new owner. And the new owner was Captain Steven Bernard of the Criminal Justice Bureau. But why? He searched on, and the only explanation of why he was taken as a paid agent remained a mystery to him.
"Damn," he muttered. He wanted to know more about this Third.
He shook his head and stood up from his chair. His time in the office was almost over, so he walked out early in search of the strange blonde Third. He walked to the parking lot, to his car, and drove off. While on the road, he dialed the number of the Criminal Justice Bureau.
"Criminal Justice Bureau," a woman answered the line. "How can I help you?"
"May I speak to Mr. Steven Bernard?" he asked.
"Yes sir," she replied. "He's free. I can connect you to him right now, hold please."
After a few moments of waiting, the transfer to Mr. Bernard's office was complete. "Yes?" The man asked. On the image on the phone, Trowa briefly saw a burly looking man with reddish-brown hair and mustache.
"Mr. Bernard, are you the owner of Third Quatre?"
"Owner," he stammered a bit. "Well, yes in a way. What is it?"
"My name is Trowa Barton," Trowa said. "Detective Trowa Barton."
"Detective," he began. "I apologize for Quatre's behavior. He knew what he was doing---"
"What is a Third doing agent work?"
"Excuse me? Oh! Well, it's obvious. It's like when we used Thirds as police. The risk of loosing humans is high, so we got Quatre to do the work." He could tell he was lying, he just knew it. "Plus he smart and reliable." Now that wasn't a lie. "I wanted to give him another chance."
"He was labeled as vicious."
"At first, yes," the man said. "But we worked it out. Detective, what is this about? Why are you questioning Quatre? He's done his job."
"Where is Quare?"
"He's on another job."
"What job is it?"
"It's classified."
At his chance, Trowa glared down at the image on the phone. His eyes read: Tell me now! "I'm a detective."
The man looked like he was sitting on thorns. "He's investigating the assassin Kyle Murdock."
Kyle Murdock, Trowa said to himself. That name was familiar.
"Thank you," Trowa said, and hung up. Trowa thought for a second, then it clicked. Of course, Murdock was the assassin of the last President. It was once in his files. Now, Quatre was after the bastard. He wanted to see that man go down, since he was responsible for the murder of the President that helped free the Thirds. There was a bit of him that owned that man respect.
Maybe he could help out his files by going after the man himself as well.
Damn this is high, Trowa said to himself as he landed himself at the top of a skyscraper. He wasn't very keen on heights. He had a bad experience with falling before.
His quick thinking led him to this building as Murdock's last whereabouts, and Quatre's. Soon, he thought, he was going to met up with one of them. He stalked around the building, and sneeked around to the back of the door-ramp.
He quickly ducked down as the door opened, and a man with the height of 5'6 with dirty blonde hair entered onto the roof. He peek over to see that he matched the description of Kyle Murdock. This was too good to be true. Trowa ol' boy, he said to himself. You've done it!
He leapt out, gun drawn.
"Mr. Murdock?"
"Ah fuck," the man murmured and turned his head to him. "What now?"
"Detective Trowa Barton." He flashed him his badge.
"Yeah? So what?"
"Mr. Murdock, I'm afraid I'll have to place you under arrest for suspicion of the murder of President Darlin."
The man eyed him as if he didn't care. He noticed then, the man held a rifle. Trowa put a more steadier balance on his gun.
"Drop your weapon."
"What, this?" He looked at his rifle.
"Yes, drop it."
"No thanks partner. I need this thing." He aimed at him and fired.
Trowa's reflexes didn't fail him, throwing himself behind the door-ramp. The corner of it shattered. "Hold your fire!" Trowa called.
"Hell no!" He fired again.
Trowa ducked. You've got no choice, he told himself. Shoot the son of a bitch. He leaned out and fired back. The shot hit Murdock on the side. He snarled at the pain and stumbled back. Then, Trowa rushed out. He aimed his gun at him. "You're under arrest."
"The fuck I am," the man snarled and grabbed a hold of Trowa's shirt. He threw him. Trowa landed on his back, dropping his gun, as it slid across the concrete. The man limped over to him with his fresh wound and lifted him up. "Alright you punk."
Just then, his head jerked to the side, followed by a crack of a gun. He dropped Trowa to the ground, holding his face. From the looks of it, he had been shot. The both of them looked around, then noticed a slender figure, a familiar silhouette of a male with a trench coat.
Quatre?
"The hell? Who the hell is that?"
And a reply from the figure: "A fucking Third." It was Quatre. He was standing on an opposite side of another building, at the edge. The wind was tugged at the side of the tail of his coat as he stood motionlessly. Then he suddenly moved. He took off to the left of the building he was on, and just as if he was going to fall, he leapt over to the building they were on.
"No! No!" the man yelled. "Get away from me!" He aimed at the approaching Third, and fired his gun multible times. Quatre guarded himself, but not the best way, immediately when his feet hit the edge. He kicked off his position, and ran across the top of the building, passing Kyle's path while being shot at. He paid no mind to the bullets that were hittng him, looking like he had no feeling of pain. Trowa watched from the ground as Quatre ran and kicked off of lighting pole. He flipped and landed on Kyke, grappling him, while bleeding with bullet holes on his body and clothes. He panted while glaring wildly at him.
"Get off!" The man punched Quatre across the face, knocking him aside. They both return to their feet. Kyle was the first to make the attack. Quatre caught him arm, and flipped him. He approached him, but Kyle made the counter attack. He fired his rifle at him, making his scream and recoil.
He laughed. "Fucking Third is right."
Quatre's hand had been shot, grazed by the blast that stripped most of the skin off, revealing the metallic skeleton and wires inside. A small amount of red fluid dripped off of the wound.
Quatre swung around and kicked Kyle across the face. The man stumbled backwards.
"You'll pay," Quatre said. "You'll pay you bastard! You'll pay for killing the man that helped my kind to freedom. It's never easy being a Third. Everyone hates Thirds. It's because of you that it's going to hell."
The man raised his rifle at him for another shot. But Quatre raised and fired his gun faster, firing six times into the man. Kyle Murdock stumbled to the ground, and went ridged.
Trowa stared. Kyle Murdock's body sparked from the wounds in his stomach, and the spot where Quatre had shot him in the face revealed a bloody metal plate. Kyle Murdock was a Third.
He turned his head once he heard Quatre fall to his knees in a clatter. He stood up and walked slowly towards him. Quatre's knees and shoulders were sparking where Kyle had shot him. He was bleeding and shaking.
"Don't come near me," Quatre warned. His head was turned away.
"Quatre." He stopped.
He continued to shake his with his head down. "This is what makes me so different from you!" He showed him his mangled hand. "I'm metal and wires. This is the thing that makes me so different from you humans!" He stood up. "If I were human, I would be dead. I want to die! I want to be human!" He bolted to the edge of the skyscraper and leapt off the side.
Trowa watched in horror, and even tried to catch him, but it was hopeless. "Quatre!"
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