Staying Alive

Summary: Rachel the red ranger lives to protect the helpless. Rachel the assassin kills to stay alive. Two different worlds, same person. When the hero gone missing, the killer was summoned to her world by accident. What will she do? Why was she here? What joke was fate playing on her this time?

Chapter 1 – Hundredth and counting

The wrinkly old man paused, putting down his fork while smiling absently at his wife across the table and swallowed a few mouthfuls of red wine, unknowingly drinking to his death.

A waitress took orders from a near by table and walked back to the counter, flinching slightly at her reflection on the glass panels. She gave orders to another waiter there and frowned at the panels, picking at the mole on her right temple.

Any minute now.

"A glass of iced water please," Another waitress, a brunette, placed an empty tray on the counter and smiled sympathetically. "You must hate it. The ah, mole, I mean."

During her two days here, she'd concluded the other girl was, overall, a nice person, but that didn't mean she wasn't trying to hard. She made a face at her. "Tell me about it."

The brunette – Jennifer? Jessica? - chuckled and patted her shoulder.

The glass of iced water came. She took her fingers off her mole and turned to the other girl. "Hey, J?" she called, hoping the other girl wouldn't mind her new nickname. She didn't. "Can you take the drinks to table eighteen for me? I need to-" she cocked her head to the general direction of the restroom, "-ya know?"

"Sure thing, Sam."

"Thanks. I owe you one!" she said, turning. She glanced at her watch. Almost time. She grabbed her bag and paused outside the restroom, which was conveniently located across the back door. She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and waited.

Barely a few seconds later, the wife screamed.

"Someone call 911!"

"Peter! Oh god..."

"Ma'am, you have to let me-"

"Peter! Peter!"

'Sam' shut the door behind her and threw the fake mole into the dark alley.


A black Mercedes-Benz slid into view. Rachel Steed brought up her watch, squinting against the scorching sun. 2.00pm. She smiled. Right on time, as always. She stretched luxuriously on the bench, taking her time. With renewed energy, she hopped up and walked towards the car.

"The blond look didn't work out for you?" Keith asked as she climbed in, a teasing smile on his fatherly face.

Rachel rolled her eyes and shut the door, taking a moment to enjoy the heavenly air-conditioned atmosphere. She sighed in satisfaction and leaned back, prepared to dive straight into dreamland.

"Tired?"

"Hmm."

"Your seatbelt."

She snorted and put on her seatbelt as told. "Mission went without a hitch, by the way."

He nodded, changing gear as they turned onto the highway. "Never doubted that it wouldn't."

She smiled slightly at that. Keith would have made a great dad if he wasn't in this line of business, she was sure. "Where're we going, again?"

"Home. I'm giving you a break. A couple of months, maybe. You've been working hard enough lately."

"Thank you," she said sincerely and stretched her arms again, suddenly excited. "I could use a couple of months pigging out..."

"Make sure you stay in shape, though. Wouldn't want you to slip on your one hundred and first assignment."

She pouted, rather distractedly. So that was why he was giving her a break. That grandpa was her one hundredth assignment. She thought she wouldn't remember. That she would have been numb by now. But she wasn't. Somehow, subconsciously, she had been counting. Always counting.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"Oh my god..."

"No!"

"Peter! Peter!"

"Kinda anti-climatic, though, don't you think?" she said after a few moments of silence, playing with the tiny teddy bear hanging from the rear view mirror, "You'd think the one hundredth'd be special. Who knew I only need to wear an apron and waltz in and slip the poison-"

"Steed-"

"Why did they want to kill him anyway?" she asked, suddenly not able to stop herself. "He seemed like a normal kind of bloke. He's not even filthy rich-"

"You're getting soft, Steed."

A beat. "I'm not."

"You're asking questions, Steed. And it's making you soft."

Another pause. "I'm not." she hissed, and both of them knew there would be no further discussion on the way home.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Anyway, just a short... warning or sort - this fic is mostly Rachel-the-assassin centric, so... try to give her a chance. :P

Btw, school's gonna start (they make us go back to school on the third day of New Year, inhuman, isn't it? pouts), so... you know. But I'll try to update as frequent as possible.

And Happy New Year everybody!