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RaistlinofMetallica
Author of 33 Stories

Rated: T - English - Drama/Supernatural - Reviews: 1 - Updated: 07-17-09 - Published: 05-28-09 - id:5094655

Interlunium

By RaistlinofMetallica



Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or settings of Gundam Wing, Sailor Moon or any others I may use in this story. This is for fun and not for profit.

Warnings: Crossovers



Prologue:

The apartment was a water-stained hole-in-the-wall in the seediest part of London, where people kept their eyes down and had no memory. It was cluttered with all sorts of knickknacks and old furniture that appeared to have seen better days. Precariously perched on a shelf, the old TV set clamored to be heard over the constant flow of traffic on the street below and the occasional rumble of the Underground. A laptop hummed quietly on a small table next to empty, ignored take-out boxes and chipped plates. An iron hissed, steam curling off the metal, while the owner of the apartment, a tall man with preternaturally white hair, quietly folded his shirt and moved to the next.

The TV let out a sudden discordant noise as the program that had been playing was replaced by a standby message and suddenly switched to a news desk, banners indicating a special notice scrolling rapidly across the screen. “This is a breaking news bulletin. The terrorist faction ‘Epyon de Telos’ has taken control of the Sanc Kingdom castle and issued the following demands...”

The man stared at the screen silently, his eyes narrowing as the broadcast continued. It wasn’t much – just a who, what, wants, and these are the hostages – and shortly returned to the news desk with stock footage of the more politically and financially significant hostages.

His cell-phone then began to ring shrilly.

“Are you watching the television?” a cultured male voice asked him in Arabic.

“Yeah.”

“My employer has a job for you,” the voice continued. “There will be a private charter plane waiting for you at London Heathrow in exactly one hour. Further details are being emailed to you now.”

The man moved to his laptop, bringing up the email with his free hand. “I trust he remembers my fee.”

“Of course,” the voice replied. “The appropriate funds are being transferred as we speak.”

The man took a moment to confirm that it had gone through before he answered: “Tell your employer that what he asks will be taken care of.”

"My employer is most grateful you understand the urgency of the matter and eagerly awaits your arrival."

Hanging up, the man moved to a battered trunk lying on the floor and opened it slowly. He removed a gun with almost reverent grace, slid a clip in, and smiled as the slide slammed into place with an audible click.



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