Wing Gundam was lying on its back, with Heero sitting on the chest hatch. He didn’t want others touching his mobile suit and had taken on the repairs himself. He didn’t care how rude he sounded when he denied help, offered by Howard and his fellow mechanics, the Sweepers. He shivered, even though he wore a warm, black jacket. He hated owing Howard so much; after their initial contact, the old man dredged up the Gundam before the Marina could stumble upon it. It had been a risky operation, as search troops had been roaming the area where the Gundam had sunk.
He looked at his laptop, busy scrolling huge files of data on the screen.
“Circuit conductors at 100%... panel filters at 100%... pressure pads...”
“Heero! Dinner’s served!”
He acknowledged Howard’s presence and raised his left hand. He doubted if the elder man saw his gesture. He wore those ridiculous sunglasses again, as if he had to protect his eyes from the bright lights in the huge barrack. Heero looked again at the laptop, the scrolling data showing that all effected repairs were completed.
“So, what’s your next mission then?”
Heero had heard him coming, and wasn’t startled nor surprised by the question.
“I can’t discuss mission details.”
“Right.” Howard adjusted his glasses. His bright Hawaiian-style t-shirt hurt Heero’s eyes. The man had welcomed him as if he were a lost son, and had gone to great lengths to harbour the Gundam. Heero didn’t like the feeling of owing someone. For some strange reason, he felt guilty when Howard was near. After dredging up the Gundam, Howard had offered him harbouring space on his ship. This building was large enough to store a 16 meter long Gundam, arms spread, lying on its back. Heero hated it. It felt so vulnerable. He pulled himself up and with a few commands, he closed the running software program.
Howard and his Sweepers group were all trustworthy men, all dedicated to the cause. Heero didn’t doubt Dr. J’s ability to estimate people’s loyalty, but he didn’t trust anyone but himself. It did help, however, that Howard’s knowledge of Gundam designs and mechanics almost surpassed his. Almost.
“Dinner’s served,” Howard repeated. “Better get yourself some food and some rest, kid.”
“Thank you,” Heero replied. He didn’t give the man more attention and he heard him go away, muttering something under his breath. He merely shrugged. He closed the laptop and tucked it under his arm. Dinner was the necessary intake of food to sustain his body; everything tasted the same to him anyway. He secured the chest hatch, slid off the metal torso and started walking to the door.
“Hey, turn out the lights, will ya?”
Heero’s hand automatically went to the large light switches. There was a corner in this building were the lights didn’t reach. As usual, his eyes flicked to the right; as he did every time after he’d realized what was standing, or rather, kneeling in this particular corner. Howard had worn a strange, sad, no, almost grief stricken, look on his face when he had opened the large doors for natural daylight to shine in, revealing another Gundam. It took a flabbergasted Heero a few seconds to realize that he was standing face to face with 02.
The large, black Gundam was situated in kneeling position, but nothing submissive was coming out of the machine. Its head was in an upright position and almost touched the ceiling, as well as the large hyper jammer packs on its back. The intensity of the design didn’t escape Heero. He saw the large buster shield, capable of deflecting a hit from Wing’s beam rifle, and he noticed the main weapon. At first sight, he thought it was some sort of beam glaive, but Howard had told him that it was a scythe, when activated.
“Heero, meet Deathscythe,” Howard had introduced him. “Deathscythe, meet Heero.”
Heero had to slap himself mentally when he realized he was waiting for an answer from this reverent Gundam in black and gold.
“How come it’s on Earth?” He had asked, rather clipped and irritated with himself.
“It descended at the same time with the rest of you guys.” For a contact person, Howard knew very much, maybe a little too much. Heero had to remind himself that he shouldn’t see Howard as just a mere contact person.
“You let one of your men pilot a Gundam?”
“Of course not,” Howard snorted. “I selected my best pilot for the carrier. Deathscythe is only for the one and original 02 pilot. We knew that no one of my men was destined nor qualified to pilot the Gundam.”
“We?”
“Prof G and me.” Howard had taken a sip of his beer.
Doctor J and Professor G. The name wasn’t unfamiliar to Heero. So G had failed in finding a pilot, or had screwed up his pilot.
“It’s such a waste to see it just standing here.” Shaking his head, Howard sounded as impressed as Heero was feeling.
“I’ll use it as my back-up supply,” Heero had answered. He was immediately taken aback by Howard’s outburst.
“What? No! Never! You won’t do such a thing, young man!”
For a short moment, Heero thought the man was drunk and prepared himself for an attack. Howard was swinging with his beer bottle and approached Heero with anger written all over his face.
“Deathscythe is not for you, boy. He waits here for his pilot, and no one touches it or tries to come near it! Deathscythe is not for you!”
“You said yourself it was a waste to see it standing there. It’s of no use, wasting a good Gundam like this! What’s gotten into you?” Heero didn’t want to give into his sudden fear; in the short time he’d known him, Howard was nothing but reasonable and easy going. He didn’t like the angry side of the elder man.
Howard pointed with the beer bottle at him. “No one touches Deathscythe. He wouldn’t let you enter anyway. Forget it, Heero. He’s not destined for you. The one who will pilot Deathscythe will know.”
It was the end of the conversation, as Howard took another sip of his beer and walked away, muttering something audible enough for Heero to distinguish “fool wants to use him as a back-up supply” followed by a short, hard laugh.
He had looked at the Gundam every time he left the building. After Howard’s rage, Heero had tried nonetheless to hack the entrance code, confident he would crack it within the hour. He failed miserably. He was angered and annoyed about it, but he hadn’t tried it again. Ridiculous, Heero was sure, and he convinced himself firmly that he only lacked proper time to try it again.
He killed the lights and followed the sounds and laughter of the men, already at the table for their dinner. He hardly noticed the food only that it was hot, and he ate dutifully everything on his plate.
He’d kill for a good, rich Japanese meal - he couldn’t deny his roots. A TV was set up in the corner, loudly blaring music. After a few minutes, one of the men changed the channel to the daily news.
“... informed about the gathering of OZ officials at the New Edwards Base,” the reporter announced. Heero picked up his cup of tea.
“... for further discussion of collaboration between the colonies and Earth. Treize Khushrenada, who has been asked to shed more light on his current rank in the OZ organisation, has announced which officials are going to attend. However, rumours of attacks on Alliance related plants and bases have been denied. The following...”
Heero used the napkin to wipe off his mouth. He didn’t need any more information; if there really were such a gathering, Dr. J would contact him soon and fast enough to give new orders. Still, there was the matter of that girl. Relena.
One of the men was distributing second helpings, but Heero passed. He wasn’t really hungry anyway. He needed to go to his bunk, to get some rest. He walked outside the mess hall and to his surprise he saw Howard sitting in a deck chair, comfortably lounging.
He tried to walk away softly, but Howard had ears like a fox.
“Did you take a look at the moon, Heero?”
“What?” He had no choice but to answer the elder man. Howard pointed skywards.
“Did you ever take a look at the moon?”
Dutifully, Heero looked up. “It certainly looks nice.”
Howard snorted. “You have no eye for the simplest things. It’s the mission that counts, isn’t it?”
“What else would count?” Heero asked, deadpan. Even in the darkness of the late evening he could see Howard shake his head.
“I’m sorry for you, kid. You’re missing out on so many things.”
“I’m not here for looking at the moon,” Heero bit back. Howard turned around in his chair.
Even at nightfall, he still wore those sunglasses. The man really had some problem with his eyes.
“I know why you are here.” He was dead serious. Heero sometimes didn’t know how to deal with Howard. He could go from grim in one minute to exuberant happy in the next. Heero didn’t know how he should respond and really disliked the fact that Howard could go from one mood to another in such short time – but J had vouched for his credibility, so he had to put up with it.
“You’re here to end the reign of the Alliance. You’re here to kill and to destroy. You’re here to defend the colonies, to free them, and to stop at nothing. That’s what you’re here for, Heero.”
“I know.” He didn’t know what else to say.
Howard slipped his sunglasses back on his nose. “Did you hear that Darlian died today?”
“Huh?” Heero was dumbfounded. He had been so emerged in the repairs of Wing and hassling the mechanics until they finally left them alone, that he hadn’t paid attention to the news.
“He was killed by a terrorist attack. Lady Une announced the news, and she’s going to investigate his death. Needless to say that the colony he visited, is now being brandished.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“I’ll verify my contacts, but it’s too dangerous at the moment. It only happened a few hours ago. Darlian had a daughter – the poor kid.”
Relena. Heero gritted his teeth. Why did everything fall together with this girl, who was the first to see him at the beach, and why had she attached herself to him? Why did she give him an invitation to her birthday party, why was she constantly near him at the institute? She was like a blanket slowly wrapping around him, and he didn’t know if that felt warm or suffocating. It had to come to an end with her. Either she died, or...
“Are you listening?”
“I heard you. Vice Foreign Minister Darlian was killed in a terrorist attack.”
Howard grimaced. “You’re certainly not an easy fellow. Don’t make it so hard for me, young man.” He had risen from his chair and showed Heero his empty glass.
“I’m going for a refill. Have a seat, Heero, and take a look at the stars.”
He complied, even when he knew Howard wasn’t coming back. Looking at the stars was soothing somehow, but the silence on the ship’s deck also led him to think. He thought about the other Gundam, kneeled down in a corner of the barrack, about how ‘the 02 pilot would know’, if there was a 02 pilot to begin with, about Relena and about his upcoming mission.
He was not aware that he fell asleep and Howard putting a blanket around him, looking at him pitifully.
“J never told you how proud he is of you, did he, the bastard?” He asked, but didn’t receive an answer.
-----------------
Heero had forty minutes to correctly hide his Gundam in its camouflage nets. It was early in the morning; he had just returned from a search and destroy mission. A carrier transporting mobile suits had to be shot down before it reached its destination. He worked on autopilot, covering up his Gundam in nets, mulling over his mission. Mission accomplished. He’d shot down a carrier with soldiers. Alliance soldiers. They saw the debris scatter around in the sky and he realized not long after that he was laughing hysterically. It had taken him quite a while to calm down. A shiver ran down his spine. There will always be casualties in a war. Heero quickly finished his work. The first class at St. Gabriel wouldn’t start for another hour, so he had time to pack his stuff and finish hacking into the school system to clear his files.
Back in his dorm room, Heero changed into the standard uniform and packed everything in his efficient manner in one duffel bag. The St. Gabriel Institute was fairly buzzing with excitement about an upcoming school dance. He didn’t give it a second thought and waited for Relena to show up, but the girl didn’t attend the classes he normally shared with her. He tried to figure out if it still would be necessary to kill her. She had seen him - but had she seen the Gundam? Could she have been on that civilian shuttle he encountered on his descent, before he noticed the OZ carrier? To his astonishment, Heero was reprimand in class for not paying attention and he gritted his teeth. Stupid! Sloppy! It was only a warning, but he made sure he wouldn’t get another one. Somehow, the grammar class wasn’t very appealing to him.
After class was over, he quickly ate dinner and took a nap in the hours before the dance would start. When his alarm clock rang, Heero got up, stuck his gun in his waistband and covered it with his jacket. If Relena attended the dance tonight, he could take care of her. She’s just a loose end. A loose end that needs to be tied up. He briefly wondered why he had so much trouble tying this ‘loose end’ up. Could it be…
A knock on the door startled him.
“Yes?”
Relena Darlian came in, still dressed in her school uniform, face neutral.
“Off to fight again, Heero?” What tone was her voice? He couldn’t figure it out. She didn’t sound accusatory, nor surprised or sad.
She’s onto me. Within a second, he whipped out his gun and pointed it at her. Strangely enough, she didn’t even blink. There was a... fatigue clouding her eyes. She ignored the gun, reached behind her and closed the door.
“It is no use killing me now,” she said softly, but not as soft as a whisper. “People have seen me go upstairs. They’ll wonder what happened when I don’t return.”
He didn’t move an inch. “Relena, you...”
“I don’t care what happens to me,” she interrupted him. “But I wanted to let you know that I’m on your side. I met Dr. J., I know your secret, Heero, though I’m sure there’s much more to be told.”
“You’re on my side?” The gun didn’t sway. “You met... Dr. J?”
“You do know that my father was killed, don’t you?” Now he picked up the bitterness in her voice. Raw, edgy bitterness.
“He was assassinated by OZ,” she continued. “I escaped with help from the rebels, and that’s how I met Dr. J. I don’t think that he should’ve enforced this enormous task on you, Heero. You can’t do this alone. Let me help you.”
“If you really talked with Dr. J, you’d know that I’ve had extensive training and that I know what to do. I’m perfectly fine on my own, thank you.”
A little smile graced her lips. He cocked his head. She looked like she was about to say more, but she waited a full minute before she continued.
“I know that you’re strong, Heero. I just wanted to help you and let you know I’m here for you.” She looked at him expectantly, but Heero didn’t react. Another little smile, it was a small quirk of her lips. Blue, ocean-like eyes that reflected a deep sorrow.
“I have my own battles to fight.” Heero wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that.
“Your father. Are you going to take revenge?” He still kept the gun pointed at her.
“I don’t know. Heero, my father…” she gulped audibly, “my father told me something else. Something I have to learn to accept. I can’t tell you yet what it is. I need to get my head around it myself.”
“What makes you so sure we’ll meet again?”
“You’re welcome to kill me,” Relena answered, “when I’m ready for it. Until then, I ask this dance of you, Heero Yuy.”
She took a step back, not because she was afraid. She made a perfect curtsey. Her wheat blond hair, pulled back into a braid, slipped over her shoulders. She didn’t look fragile, even though she trembled a little – Heero couldn’t distinct whether it was from fear or anxiety.
“The last dance,” he answered.
“The last dance,” she confirmed. He saw her smile, a joyous, genuine smile. He tucked away the gun and offered her his arm. Blue eyes as deep as the ocean.
-----------------
Duo returned from his dinner with Treize, savouring his meal. He never had turkey before and he had eaten enough to last him for two days. His thoughts were running around the orders he had received. Operation Daybreak. A coup d’état to overthrow the Alliance. A chance to get his revenge, something he’d been waiting for all his life. Revenge for his own pain, a sweet, cold revenge for all his suffering. It wouldn’t give him back the people he had lost; it wouldn’t give him back the church he once lived in; it wouldn’t give him back his life; but it would give him at least the opportunity to strike back.
He automatically walked to the mobile suits hangar. At this time of hour, only a few mechanics from the night shift were at work. Duo knew them all; he’d worked with many of them to make alterations to his suit. He waved at them and they hollered greetings, echoing bizarrely in the humongous hangar. Duo increased his step until he stood in front of his own suit. It was an Aries, painted black. He detested the custom blue colour they were manufactured with, and the paint job was the least of the modifications. Duo was respected for his knowledge of mobile suits- knowledge he had acquired from his past, where he was in training by the professor. Strange that Treize was so interested in him. He’d never asked me about him before.
Many of his fellow soldiers had nicknames for their aircraft; he hadn’t come up with one since the day he had reeled out the Aries himself. He didn’t have a bond with this suit as the others have; he had piloted many suits. There was only one name that really felt right, if such a thing could ever feel right. Shinigami. It was the professor who had spoken of the name and it had clung onto Duo’s mind. This Aries wasn’t worth of such a name, even though he didn’t know the exact meaning.
With the click of a few buttons on the remote control panel, the chest hatch opened and Duo climbed into the cockpit. His fingers closed themselves on the familiar controls. It wouldn’t take long now. OZ would take center stage and as soon as Treize gave the command, Operation Daybreak would end the Alliance’s reign. The colonies would be free and true peace would be established, with OZ as the new leader of the world. No more military oppression, no more battles and fights. Duo sighed. Sometimes this feeling crept up on him, a mixed feeling of relief and anxiety. What would happen to him, after peace was established? After he had his revenge, would there be total disarmament? He didn’t want to keep fighting.
“When the Alliance is gone, I’ll quit fighting and go back to L2.” He didn’t realize he said it out loud. Will there really be a change? Will OZ be different from the Alliance and stop fighting, killing, murdering? Duo climbed out of the cockpit, sealed it again and started to walk away.
At the last minute, he turned around. The shiny polish of the mobile suit reflected his image.
He scowled at himself, seeing his distorted mirror image.
“I only believe in myself,” he said. “I only believe in the God of Death.”
--------------------
New Edwards Base was a pandemonium of alarms, explosions, huge smoke clouds and gunfire. Different types of mobile suits, armed with beam rifles and cannons, formed a fortified defence line. The number of defensive suits was severely increased - something Heero had accounted for in his mission plan, but this was too much, even for him. The orders to attack New Edwards had arrived early this morning. Dr. J had confirmed the rumours about the top OZ officers meeting, and ordered Heero to wipe them out. He cursed aloud. His beam rifle took too much time to heat up after every blast, time he didn’t have. The weapon was too difficult to wield in this type of fight, but with only his beam sabre it would take him too long to cut through the defence line and carry out his mission.
If it went on any longer like this, he couldn’t even reach the main buildings and by then, the Alliance officials would’ve been evacuated. They can’t get away! If I kill all the officials, the Alliance is done for! Suddenly his proximity alarm went off. Heero had only a second to register the red alarm signals flickering on the cockpit screen and he pushed the joysticks forward.
Wing Gundam jumped like it was bitten by a giant flea and stumbled over its own feet, until the next moment the heat and pressure of a missile impact hit him fully in the back and propelled the mobile suit forward, crashing onto the ground.
Heero was smacked onto the cockpit screen and groaned. The safety belt cut his flesh and he felt dizzy from the impact. He hit a few buttons to quiet down the alarms and activated the leg movement of the mobile suit to made sure that Wing got up. His outer cameras had already picked up images and he couldn’t suppress a gasp when he saw two mobile suits in front of him; exactly the same model as his, only with different specifications. The left one, a bright red and orange suit with a huge battling gun mounted on its left arm, closed its hatches on the missile storage units on its shoulders. The right one, in black and white, supported gigantic curved cutting weapons - shotels, Heero’s mind, excessively trained on weaponry, supplied him - and somehow looking very sophisticated, even with the deadly weapons.
Heero quickly processed the incoming data on a side screen. The two suits were confirmed as models of Gundanium Alloy. They were certainly not Alliance mobile suits and from the readings he received, the bunch of missiles fired from the red and orange suit wiped out a quarter of the defence line alone.
“What the...” Heero opened his communication line.
“Attention, pilot of unknown suit. Please acknowledge. Attention, pilot of...” a monotonous voice blasted through the communication device. Grumbling, Heero toned the volume down.
“Attention, pilot of unknown suit. Please acknowledge. Attention, pilot of...”
“Acknowledged,” Heero, answered curt. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Are you 01?”
“Affirmative.”
“I’m 03, Heavyarms,” the monotonous voice answered and deepened a few pitches before continuing: “Here to attack the meeting of the OZ officers.”
“I’m here for the same reason,” a chipper voice chimed in, “my name’s Quatre Raberba Winner of the Gundam Sandrock.” The pilot who introduced himself even had the guts to raise the left hand of the machine. Heero was baffled when the hand of the Gundam with the giant shotel rose. What does he think this is, a tea party?
“04, I presume?” Heero didn’t bother to state his name. When he heard the affirmative answer, he only gave them his number, 01, and the name of his Gundam: Wing. He didn’t want to spill information like 04 did.
“Shouldn’t there be a 05?” he asked, rather grumpily.
“I haven’t met him,” 03’s voice came back. “What about a 02?”
“Negative,” Heero answered. “There’s no 02.”
“We haven’t got time to chitchat,” Quatre cut in, followed by the rumbling sounds of more arriving mobile suits.
Heero’s attention focused on his left screen. His sensors had picked up a shuttle that was slowly taxiing out of the hangar on the east side of the base.
“The OZ shuttle is about to take off. Clear the area around here, I’ll take it out in the air.”
“Roger,” replied the other two pilots. Heero moved his control panel and engaged the bird mode of his suit. Wing took off without a hitch. Leaving the sounds of battle behind him, Heero piloted his Gundam towards the shuttle. It was this moment when he felt truly free, even with the duty that awaited him. In these spare moments, when he ripped through the clouds and there were no... boundaries in the sky, he felt free. He approached the shuttle, transformed Wing into its usual mode, and pulled out his beam sabre. He didn’t have to think twice about it.
“For the colonies!” He yelled when he moved the right hand of Wing upwards and, with a swift movement, downwards. He cut through the shuttle in one motion; it exploded at impact with the concentrated, solidified plasma energy of his beam sabre. Wing didn’t suffer any damage from the explosion. He leaned back into his chair, contently watching the debris scatter. He didn’t feel remorse for them- OZ would certainly be crippled with the death of their main officers. The Alliance wouldn’t pose much of a problem now that these people were dead. It felt like a huge weight sliding off his shoulders. Heero didn’t transform Wing back into bird mode and made his descent. It’s over. Mission accomplished.
His external cameras picked up the presence of another, fourth Gundam standing next to the other two, when he touched down.
It bore blue, red and green colours and was equipped with a beam glaive on the back and a shield on the left arm. The right arm of the Gundam was considerably different from the others- Heero suspected it was a built-in flamethrower. The chest hatch was open and a young Chinese boy, around the same age as he, was standing on it, mouthing frantically. He looked calm and composed, but from the way his mouth was working, Heero deducted that he was quite upset about something.
He opened his communication line.
“What’s this all about?” he barked. The fourth pilot didn’t bother to introduce himself, but yelled an answer.
“You’ve been set up by OZ, you fool! You just wiped out the Alliance’s pacifists!”
The first thing that came to Heero’s mind was to laugh at the young boy. “Impossible!”
“No 01, check your newscasts,” came the higher pitched voice of 04. Quatre Winner, Heero’s mind provided. The boy sounded a lot more subdued- there was no reaction from 03 whatsoever. Heero pulled up the news feed on his control panel and the right side of his cockpit functioned as the screen. Immediately an Alliance official with a severe expression on his face appeared. Heero recognized him as General Septem.
“This is a declaration of war from the colonies,” the general spoke with his raspy voice, “while we were busy negotiating peace proposals, we were attacked by Gundams! Marshall Noventa was killed today, killed by the colonies! This is something we can’t let go, and we will retaliate to anyone! The colonies have...”
Heero went deaf. Heero went blind. It was as if someone had punched him in the gut, kicked his back and pounded on his head at the same time. His right eye registered the images of Wing on the screen, in the centre of the blast, waiting for the explosion to settle. He had been set up.
He had been set up! It dawned later to him that he was profoundly swearing in his native language, and it sounded hollow and pitiful in the cockpit.
“What have I done? What have I done!!?”
--------------------
“Sir, a flight of OZ carriers is nearing us.” The young private turned around in his chair, hands on his communication set. Duo sat quietly on the left side of the big radar station and noticed the green blips. The commanding officer leaned forward and tapped with his pencil at the screen.
“Contact them and ask what they’re doing here. We’ve recently received a new batch of supplies, so there’s no need for them to come again this soon.” The man threw a look at Duo, but he ignored it.
“What’s OZ doing around here?” The officer asked.
“I don’t know,” Duo, answered. “Like you said, there’s no need for another supply flight.”
The officer snorted. “Wise guy.”
“Sir, it’s Lieutenant Zechs Marquise. He claims that they’re conducting a tactical flight manoeuvre at the Mombassa area.” The private flipped a switch.
“Permission granted,” the officer returned, sounding petulant. “Tell them to adjust their course, though. It doesn’t look like they’re going over to the Mombassa if they keep this direction.”
The private communicated with the approaching airplane and signed off. “They’ll change their course accordingly.”
“It certainly doesn’t look like it.” The officer peered at the screen. “They’re coming right at us! What the h...” He couldn’t finish his sentence. Alarms were going off, an explosion rocked the building and commotion took over the premises.
“What’s going on here? What the – Lieutenant Maxwell?”
Duo pointed calmly his gun at both men. They weren’t his friends, so he didn’t feel sorry for them. Even though he got along with almost everybody, he didn’t have real friends, and most of them belonged to the Specials. They’re Alliance soldiers. I want my revenge.
“Go to the main hall,” he snarled. “Move it!”
Both men stuck their hands in the air and slowly progressed to the door.
“Don’t try to do something stupid, or it’ll cost you your life. Hurry!” Duo motioned them to increase their speed. When they were outside the control room, more Alliance soldiers and officers were driven to the main hall. Fellow OZ and Specials soldiers were behind them, armed, and wearing grim expressions. From the outside, explosions tore through the air.
“Take them with you,” Duo pointed at the two he was guarding, “I’m going outside.”
“Yes sir!” Two Specials’ members saluted and Duo ran through the corridors, to the mobile suit hangar. People were in shock, outright afraid or furious, and not to mention surprised. Nairobi had proven to be a critical base in this carefully planned coup d’état.
Undermining from the inside, Duo had to give Treize credit for that. All these years, Treize had meticulously built up his Specials forces, keeping the identity of this elite group masked for his plans to destroy the Alliance’s military. As soon as the extent of Operation Daybreak had fully dawned on Duo, his original skepticism took a 180-degree turn.
This is payback, you Alliance bastards! Your reign has come to an end, right now!
Duo flung himself into the cockpit of his Aries. The suit was blaring into life and roaring its engines within seconds. With all seatbelts fastened, and the appropriate in and output displaying on screens, Duo moved his Aries outwards.
The battle wasn’t very fierce, but uncontrolled and unorganized. In the flurry of the commotion and with the lack of commanding officers, soldiers fired randomly at the oncoming OZ suits. Duo saw the green painted Aries suit that belonged to Lucrezia Noin- one of the top students at the Academy and commander at the Lake Victoria base. What was she doing here? He knew from gossip that she only came second to Zechs because she wanted him to look better, and she was probably more dedicated to Zechs than to anything else.
Duo fired at the Leo suits, but not to kill. He crippled them by shooting off an arm or a leg, so the suits went limp and the pilot had every chance of escaping alive. He was just turning his Aries around when he saw the green suit shooting at a Leo, literally pumping it full of holes. It was such fanaticism that an unknown soldier fairly screamed: “Don’t overdo it, Lieutenant Noin!”
Duo gritted his teeth. This was a revolution; the foundations would be bloody. But would they be worth it?
There was no need to blow up all the suits – didn’t they need all the soldiers they could get? This is my revenge. Or had Treize lied to him? This is my... revenge. A fearful moment struck him and he gasped, but then his rational mind took over and he went to work, crippling the remaining suits of his opponents. This is... my revenge. The Alliance wouldn’t be of any more importance after tonight. Sweat drops trailed his face. The heat was turning up in his cockpit. There would be peace. This… is my revenge. Guns silenced. OZ would bring peace between Earth and the colonies, and then he would go back to outer space: back to L2, to rebuild the destroyed remains and maybe... maybe he would even find himself there.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 |