This is set first season just prior to the second showing of the Red Series Soldiers.
I have always been bugged by the fact that I put this all up as one chapter (It was before I knew that the story could be chaptered). Anywhooo…This is a revamped and beefed up version of the story. You will note slight changes to the story line as I progress, being that this was my first such Fanfic, it was very short and again I was unhappy with it's length and some of the descriptive that I left in the story.
Again as I said with After the Fire, if you are new, Welcome, if you are returning, Welcome Back. Please read and review! That is how I learn!
A shadowy figure stood in the dim light of a vandalized phone booth, its broken panes keeping neither the damp winter fog nor the breath of the cutting wind from embracing his form. The wind found its way into his dark overcoat tugging incessantly at the sash pulled tightly about his waist, cutting through the lighter clothing underneath to chill his skin. The drops of moisture clung to him as the fog flowed over him in wispy clumps, making his countenance shine with reflected radiance from the somehow still functioning light in the booth. The light barely illuminated his features, only significant by his stark red hair and matching beard and mustache. To a passerby he would have seemed ordinary. If any had bothered to look closer, however, there was a set to his body and a look in his brilliant blue eyes that pegged him as a predator, a soldier.
He seemed to feel neither the wind, nor the damp as he hurriedly dialed a number into the sticky keypad and put the receiver to his ear covered with a handkerchief that he had produced from one inner pocket. Who knew what the people on the street might do to them? He froze in place as he listened to the line ring on the other end. He might have been a statue but for the frosty breath that escaped from his nose regularly, and the darting of his slightly bug eyes that showed his impatience.
His voice was cool and steady as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line, ice cold and another giveaway of his nature, "The lead I spoke of last has panned out. We were able to retrieve two phone numbers from the prototype's pager."
A voice on the other end must have spoken then for he paused for long moments listening, "Yes we've tracked the numbers and both of them are here in the city. The team is set up on each address now," Another pause, "No, even divided they should be able to handle her if she shows. They will move in within the hour."
The other end of the conversation had been satisfied, and the man nodded once though the party on the other end couldn't see it. He slowly hung up the phone without another word, stepped out of the booth.
He glanced back as a towering figure joined him by the booth. The man was slightly balding with blue eyes that reflected the same predator agenda. His face was littered with scars covering his stern chin and high cheekbones. That marred face did not reflect any emotion at all, but exuded confidence and patience. He was wearing a black leather jacket, seeming to ignore the several holes already marring the material. The jacket was halfway unzipped and there were straps that were a dead giveaway to several gun holsters hidden beneath that heavy jacket. The outfit did nothing to hide the man's prominent shoulder width or the arm muscles straining against the leather.
"Orders?" The man's deep voice uttered, though only his eyes were turned toward the much shorter man.
"We go in," The smaller man said, sounding excited at the prospect, "One or both know her, and we're going to find out just who and how well."
The balding man nodded minutely and they looked in unison up toward the towering high rise shrouded in the fog, the smaller man smiling wickedly.