Merc

AN: If you haven't yet, I recommend going back and re-reading the last chapter. I made several changes; I'm not in the habit of doing that, but it had to be done. I rushed the last post and made quite a few "mistakes" that upset my planned plotlines. Here's the newest addition...twice as long as my usual chapters, hopefully that will make up for my recent absence. Enjoy.

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Everything was coming to a head. Production speeds increased, deadlines were shorter; a frenetic pace settled throughout the entire compound. It was almost time, even though none of those not directly involved were informed of the launch date, everyone knew it was very soon, within the coming weeks.

Then, late one night, my life changed again. There was a faulty wire in the left arm; the electronic scans were inconsistent. Sometimes the cockpit’s command went through, and sometimes it didn’t. The main weapon of the suit was fickle. Not an option in war.

It took too long; there were too many wires in an arm over five times my height. I stayed late testing wires, trying to find which one was faulty, where the glitch was, to solder in a patch.

As I was there, I heard others enter the restricted access hold where I was working. It was Trowa, he was yelling at the lead scientist in charge of the Heavyarms design, Doktor S. Apparently there was a disagreement about who the intended opponents were in their upcoming war. Barton and his cohorts wanted to completely annihilate the earth to bring about a “new mankind.” It was what they had been preaching about since I joined, but the scientists were trying to pull a fast one on the foundation.

Their target was Oz, not the earth sphere, and were using the Barton Foundation’s money and resources to fuel their own war with the military hand gripping earth and the colonies.

Trowa was going to report the deception, but the assistant engineer pulled a gun and shot him down.

I very easily could have stayed right where I was. No one knew of my presence, but I made a decision then to change my role in life once again. Without hesitation, I dropped the tool I was using, letting it ring out against the metal catwalk, announcing myself.

“Who’s there?”

Dropping, effortlessly, to the main floor, I felt a confidence I had never experienced before. I knew the path that lay before me; I had no doubt I would achieve my goal.

“I have no name. If you must call me something, call me ‘No-name.’”

“Where you watching us?!”

The gun the assistant held swung towards me as I came into view. I held my hands up as if to surrender, but despite my being outgunned I knew I had the advantage. The gun shook in his hands. He had fired at Barton before he had time to digest what he was doing. Now face to face with me, he didn’t have the courage to pull the trigger.

“I’ll understand if you want to kill me, but I must tell you. I might retaliate.”

“No, stop.” S put his hand over the top of the gun, and encouraged his assistant to point it to the floor. “Sooner or later they’ll find out about this anyway. There’s no use trying to hide the facts now.”

“Hn. You’re giving up too easily.” The confidence flowed into my voice, I would be successful.

“What?” Surprise colored their expressions; they expected me to be the fanatical soldier that Barton and the others were, but I had other intentions.

“I was feeling insecure without a name. I wouldn’t mind taking on his name.” I put my hands down, cards dealt. It was up to them to play their hand or fold.

“What on earth are you talking about?” The assistant was slow, shock had dulled his senses.

“It seems clear to me that I would be best suited for the battlefields.” I remembered the rush of battle, pitting your skills against another’s and to the victor, the chance to live and fight again.

“Are you saying you’ll pilot this gundam suit Heavyarms?” They were catching on; they seemed almost reluctant to believe they weren’t going to be turned in. Like they were still waiting for a traitor’s sentence.

“Yes, I’ve become fond of this suit. But I have absolutely no interest in conquering earth.”

The scientist smirked. “Why not? As of this moment, your name is Trowa Barton. You are now in charge of operation meteor.”

“I understand.” My mouth watered with the prospect of being my own army, to be a soldier again.

All my life I have just drifted from one role to the next, assuming the mask that was handed to me. This time, I took control, assumed the job that I wanted. I was my own man for the first time of my life, despite having been alone for the majority of it.

I liked the feeling.

Heavyarms and I made it to the earth without a problem, and I had a mission within seconds of atmospheric entry. There was an Oz space port that I was meant to demolish, but my intel wasn’t complete. Dover base was within visual of the space port and began an attack. I was only instructed to take out the space port, but I was instructed to keep the mission a secret for as long as possible.

Dover was quickly turned into a crater. “This is battle 001, pilot’s name: Trowa. For the record.”

After wrapping up my mission and getting Heavyarms stowed away on a transport truck. I hacked some Alliance communications. It seemed there were others. Four other suits dropped from space the very same moment of my arrival. I was unsure of their intentions.

Are they like me, or are they meant to carry out the original Operation Meteor? The only way to know would be to monitor the attacks carried out; the sites attacked were all Alliance, possible Oz. But it was too soon to tell.

It would only be a matter of time before Oz threw off its camouflage and took control of the Alliance. That would be when I knew for sure.

I had a rendezvous with an underground contact to replenish my armament. I arrived at the designated place for exchange an hour in advance to scout the area; I took to the trees looking for trip wires, fall traps, and ambushes, but the area was clear.

As I waited for the contact to arrive, I heard music passing. It was a circus. The longer I sat among the branches, the more the idea worked in my head. Its constantly moving, so tracking would be difficult. Big trucks are common due to moving huge equipment, animals, rigging, and structures. Strangers in town are explained due to the influx of performers. Make-up and circus masks would prevent my face from being seen and recognized.

By the end of the meeting, I had determined to join the circus. I transported the weaponry away from prying eyes, replenished the ammo for Heavyarms, then typed up a fake history and background for Trowa Barton.

It helped that the real Trowa Barton, being part of a secret terrorist organization, didn’t have a public record, or any information available outside of the Barton Foundation databases, which had restricted access and were hidden from the general population.

The next evening, I walked onto the circus grounds, and requested a meeting with the man in charge. I was taken to the lion tent and introduced to Manager. He asked if I had any experience.

I handed him the faked id. It was nothing but a bogus background check, no prior job experience mentioned. He called me on it.

Looking at the sheet, he said, “this doesn’t tell me a bloody thing.”

The lion was snarling in the cage behind him. Staring into those golden eyes, I was struck with the resemblance to the jaguar what seemed like ages ago, and I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. I walked passed Manager and held my hand out to the male lion.

The circus members in the tent gasped as they realized my hand was inside the cage, but the lion calmed. As they looked on, he nudged my hand with that huge head, and I was able to stroke his coarse mane as he purred like a kitten.

“Beasts only bare their fangs at enemies. They’re true to their feelings.”

I was hired.

My next mission was to take out Corsica base. They were expecting me. There were Leos, Aries, tanks, air support, and thermal turrets all aiming at me. It was invigorating, testing the limits of my new suit against a full barrage of Alliance and Oz alike.

The rifle took out the Leos and the ground based turrets before I re-directed fire to the air support. My bullets ripped through the enemy armor like paper.

They tried to flank me, and I let them. “Strategically speaking, when annihilating a small number of enemies, the best plan is to cut off their retreat path and shower them with bullets. In this case, the commander’s plan to surround and destroy the enemy was, in fact, technically, correct.” I opened the chest panels and unleashed another hailstorm of bullets at the armored tank units. “However, he should not have taken action without fully understanding his enemy’s potential.”

The balloon containing the high ranking officers was trying to escape. I had damaged it, but it was still capable of flight. It had a few seconds of data recorded from the battle before I was able to take out the cameras. I needed to take it down.

However, ten Aries surrounded me, buying time for the craft to escape. Two rushed me, too close for my rifle; I released the switchblade on the right arm and bisected them before they could react. The others stayed in formation, better trained, these soldiers…but they weren’t as good as me. Their formation was flawed.

I pulled the trigger on the rifle, only to be informed that it was out of bullets. Damn. I released the weight of the gun and opened the chest panels. They were out as well.

“That was pretty fast. Surprise, surprise.” I still had some missiles in the legs, but missiles were useless in such close quarter fighting. It was just my switchblade and my knowledge of the battlefield left as weapons.

One of the troops rushed me, knowing I was out of ammo. I saw it all in my mind, the horizontal cut that would kill him, followed by a quick dodge, thrusters forward, to let some of the enemy Aries destroy themselves.

Their formation was a complete circle around me, which meant the suits to my left and right would kill each other as soon as I was no longer there. And I knew my thrusters were faster than they would expect. It would become a free for all then, five on one, but my suit armor was stronger than theirs. If I had to, I would rip them apart by metal hand.

But I didn’t have to.

As the Aries broke rank to rush me, thermal energy pierced its cockpit, frying the pilot. Someone had robbed me of my kill.

Then the sky lit up with energy, and all my opponents were destroyed. What the hell? I prepared for a much larger and more difficult situation than I had previously been in.

My initial enemies were all gone, but now I faced others. There were about twenty suits, modified Leos, in desert camouflage, but no Alliance insignias. And there was a suit, another gundam that looked very similar to mine; only the weapons differed. The other suits stood behind him, weapons lowered. And the gundam just stood there facing me.

A few commands punched into the cockpit, and I hacked the communications frequency they were using. I wanted to know what to expect. I would need the advantage, out of ammo and outnumbered.

“I don’t need any help.” This from the gundam. Arrogant, foolish.

“It seems he’s already used up all of his bullets.” From one of the leos. Bullets are my main weapons, but I am not defenseless. My mind started running strategies against numerous opponents. I may be at a disadvantage, but this battle is not won yet.

“That pilot isn’t relying on any sort of firearms.” The gundam pilot may not be so foolish after all. My hands tightened on the controls in preparation, my eyes scanning for any semblance of movement signaling the beginning of battle.

An Oz aircraft took off nearby, and I used the distraction to charge the gundam. My thrusters closed the distance faster than he expected, and my blade settled in the armpit of the black and gold gundam, connecting and causing sparks to fly as the knife severed some of the arm’s circuitry. His arm closed down on mine, preventing further damage. He took the move further by bending the joint backwards, essentially hyperextending Heavyarms’ elbow, sparks flying from my stressed circuitry answered.

The pilot has combat training; lets see the extent.

My knee came up, connecting with his chest and knocking him backward, but he didn’t release my arm. He threw a punch at my head, but I was expecting it. I caught his fist, in Heavyarms’ hand. The strength of our gundams was equal, both suits shaking under the strain of combat.

“This isn’t right.” His voice was soft, but it wouldn’t deter me. “It’s not.”

Then, the strangest thing happened. His hatch opened. The slightest jerk of the suits and he would fall to his death. “You and I shouldn’t be fighting each other!” He yelled, his emotions had overcome his common sense. There was no way I could have heard his shouts through the vacuum sealed cockpit hatch.

But I did hear him. Because I had hacked his comm frequency, I heard him through his own microphone in his own cockpit transmitting to my speakers. I had a faint stray thought, wondering if he had known I was listening, but there was no way to know.

He was blonde, with goggles of some sort pushed high on his head. He looked so small framed by the huge machine. He was brave, a weak, human body facing down a gundam in the heat of combat. I decided then that we should meet. He may be my enemy, but the best way to know that for sure is espionage.

Keep your enemies closer.

I released the hatch, held my hands up in surrender, and walked out onto the open platform.

The blonde looked puzzled, but he smiled despite that. “Put your hands down. I was the first one to surrender and come out, remember?”

But I didn’t. I wanted him to think me defenseless.

He looked confused and somewhat uncomfortable, not knowing what to say next. I had that effect on people. Finally, he spoke again. “We have a base not too far from here. You’re welcome to come back with us to make any repairs or replenish any supplies for your suit.”

I gave no indication that I heard, and he fidgeted as the silence held for a moment.

“Or you can go your own way, but reinforcements are most likely already on their way.”

He let the thought hang between us. I was out of my main weapon with more troops on the way. I had already resolved to go with him seconds after the offer was presented; I wanted to learn his objectives during the upcoming war, that didn’t mean I was going to break into song to announce my acceptance of his offer.

I simply returned to my cockpit, closed the hatch and waited for him to return to his. After our gundams had released their hold on each other, I signaled for him to lead the way.

“He’s coming with us.” I could feel his excitement through the speakers as he made the announcement to the other mobile suits.

I was still plugged into his communications; if there was any betrayal headed my way, I wanted to know ahead of time.

“Do you think that wise, Master Quatre? He could be an enemy.” The voice was deep, rattling the audio in my suit.

“I don’t think he is, Rashid, but regardless, he is to be given the utmost courtesy and respect. Anything he needs, Rashid.”

“Of course, Master Quatre. He is your guest.”

The conversation changed then. I no longer heard the voice of ‘master Quatre’ but Rashid’s voice continued, alerting the men to their duties upon arriving at the base, which hanger my suit would use for repairs.

I turned the speakers in the cockpit down and was left to my thoughts. My suit needed repair; my life depended on my suit responding to my commands. Should I leave the repairs in the hands of these strangers? Absolutely not…

However, the whole purpose of my going with this other gundam pilot was to get close enough to him to decipher his objectives in the upcoming war.

From the conversation of who was doing what when we arrived at the base, it was apparent that this pilot wouldn’t be doing his own repairs, his unit would. I couldn’t feel him out and repair my own suit, so what do I do?

Taking a deep breath, I center myself, knowing what I had to do. The repairs to be done were minor; I could check the mechanics’ work when I returned to the circus. But I had to know whether this pilot would be an ally in any upcoming fight, or if I couldn’t turn my back to him.

My choice made, I guided Heavyarms into the underground mobile suit hanger hidden beneath a city in the sand and left him with strangers for repair.

It turns out that the blonde was the “young master” of a big estate home within the city, and it seemed that half of the city’s population was employed in or around that estate. Despite him being their employer, the pilot treated them like family.

When he wasn’t talking constantly of how grateful he was to meet another pilot, he was stopping to question them of their health and that of their families’ well being.

Was he really like this? Or was it for show?

I never said a word, never gave anything, but I was politely lead to a room, shown where any amenities I would need where, and left alone to clean up for dinner at seven. And all of this was done by the ‘master of the house.’

Strange

Not trusting my surroundings, I checked the room for bugs both electronically and manually. Nothing.

I took advantage of the shower, changed, and started finding my way around the house. I needed to get the schematics in my head, potential escape routes, places with ambush potential, and how the environment would work to my advantage.

The house was very well organized, despite its size, everything ran on a schedule, everything was spotlessly clean and polished.

Dinner was another round of the blonde pilot talking incessantly, and, oddly enough, I didn’t mind it. His political views and predictions of tension escalation between the Earth Sphere and the colonies were accurate as far as I was concerned. His face was very expressive, and I read him easily enough.

He was either the best actor I had ever met, or entirely too kind to be an effective soldier. But he was determined, I would give him that. He was set on fighting the war single-handedly if he could prevent the “senseless deaths” of the innocent.

That night, though I was offered the most comfortable bed I’ve ever had the opportunity to use, I couldn’t sleep. I left the lush furniture to itself and slept on the floor. It was more than I deserved. The child that housed me in this magnificent place was too good to be exposed to one such as me.

In my mind, he was one of the innocent he fought to protect. His ideals were elementary and untarnished with the reality of war. He would learn soon enough, but, oddly, I found myself hoping he would retain as much of that innocence as possible.

I doubted he would live through the upcoming war, but maybe, just maybe, he would die just as optimistic as now, before becoming a jaded soldier like me.

Deciding I had seen enough, I left his company to check on the repair progress of Heavyarms. I needed to leave as soon as possible. From the time we had already spent together, I could tell he wanted to continue the fight together, but I couldn’t.

I couldn’t bear the thought of some of my reality seeping into his perspective.

For the first time in my life, I cared.

It was a frightening moment when I realized it, but it was easily mended. I had been a presence within his home, but I really hadn’t said anything to him. He knew nothing of me but my silent acceptance to his suggestions. Hopefully that would not impact his spirit significantly.

I had Heavyarms loaded onto a transport truck and wrapped with a tarp for protection against discovery. As I made my way back to the room that housed my few belongings, I heard music. It was much different than the music I had been exposed to by war-ravaged soldiers and misguided fanatic youths. The notes were light and airy, lifting its listeners into the treetops like a bird on the wind.

I had never known such music existed.

I stood in the hallway listening, knowing I should leave and never look back, but I couldn’t. I wanted to stay there and listen, not as a spy, but as an admirer. Such a strange compulsion, but I had to.

Opening the double doors, I silently slid into the room. I wasn’t surprised to find that the blonde was the creator of the music; the song seemed to suit him. His back was to the door, and even though I was now in the room, it still felt like spying.

The room was big and open with multiple floor to ceiling windows to the courtyard that let enough light in to erase every hint of shadow. I walked to the window he was facing, looking out into the gardens, expecting and dreading a pause or stutter in the music as he realized he wasn’t the only one in the room, but there was none.

Turning to face him, I saw that his eyes were closed, completely absorbed in his music. Completely vulnerable to any wishing him harm. My thoughts tried to turn black, knowing he wouldn’t make it, but the music was still sunny, flooding the room with light. He looked angelic, framed by beautiful things, sunlight cradling his body as his hands caressed the violin he held, coaxing glorious sounds into the space surrounding him.

I would remember him that way.

I closed my eyes, trying to blend into the music, but it wasn’t to be. The soldier in me was screaming at how vulnerable he was, completely oblivious, standing in front of a window with nothing between him and a sniper but glass and a violin. But I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt the music. There was an ornate cabinet next to me that contained other instruments, and I recognized one.

One of the mercs in my unit, Boulder, had a flute. Very few of the men enjoyed such “girly” music, so he would leave the campfire and find a secluded spot and play low, whispy music. I never let him know he was being watched.

As I decided what to do, images of Boulder flashed in my mind, him laying across the forest floor, his fingers splaying across the keys, his lip pressed to the mouthpiece. Though I had never touched a flute before, I knew I could play it, so I did.

I felt the boy behind me turn to watch me as the door of the cabinet clicked open. The music paused momentarily as surprise filled his face. Soon enough notes were flowing beneath my fingers and his violin joined in. Though I was in no way educated in music, there was harmony hidden within our instruments.

As the music died, I returned to myself. My intentions were to grab my things and go, to get away before I showed him too much of myself, before I smeared my reality across his ideals.

Silently, I turned away from his smile and walked back to the cabinet to return the flute.

“Keep it.” His voice made me pause. I didn’t realize it was possible to hear a smile in someone’s voice until just then.

I hesitated, but continued. The instrument wasn’t mine, and I didn’t want to be in debt to this person.

But he wasn’t having it. “No, really. I don’t know how to play it; it would just sit there collecting dust. If it went with you, it would have more of a chance to be played than if it stayed here. Please, I’d like you to have it.”

I could see my reflection in the silver surface, could see the indecision in my face, but finally I dropped my arm, flute still in hand, and nodded. His reasoning was foolish. He acted as if the flute would be lonely with no one to play it; he considered the feelings of an inanimate object. Or maybe he used it as an excuse to give me some form of voice…that music was really the only audible communication he had received from me. I felt somewhat guilty at that.

I heard a rush of air leave his lungs and excitement in his voice. “Good.”

“Thank you.” My voice sounded so foreign in this place, but it just reaffirmed my intent to leave. As I headed for the double doors to leave the room, his voice stopped me.

“Dinner will be served in about an hour, if you need anything before then, just let me know.” There was something in his voice. He didn’t want me to leave the room, didn’t want to be alone again, but he also knew I wanted my solitude. His words were simultaneously an invitation and request.

I had to refuse both; it was for his own good.

As I walked away from the estate, I heard a window open behind me. I knew it was him; I was hoping to avoid another meeting.

“Do you really have to leave?” There were many emotions surfacing in his voice, but my stride didn’t pause. I had to leave; I needed to get my gundam and go.

“I won’t stop you, but at least tell me what your name is before you go. My name is Quatre Raberba Winner.”

That made me pause. It was a show of trust. He trusted me with his name as he had trusted me with his home, his base, his kindness.

I turned back, looking up at him over my shoulder. “I have no name. But if you must call me something, it’s Trowa. Call me Trowa Barton.” It was the truth as it was known to me. I have no name, but Trowa Barton was the stolen name of the gundam pilot who should be where I was standing now.

I began my journey again, making my way towards the truck that held Heavyarms for transport. His voice drifted to me as I left. “Bye friend, Trowa. We’ll meet again.”

I knew he was right, but I really didn’t want to expose myself to him again. He was too pure for what he was trying to do. He needed to stay home and let the soldiers do the fighting.
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If you have the time, I'd really like to "hear" some feedback about this style. I've gotten into the Endless Waltz/series scenes now. The dialog throughout most of this chapter is quoted, though I extended the conversations between 03/04. The tenses get jumbled in my head and I stress about trying to make it sound current and how I began the story as a reflection...I just don't know which to continue as. Did this chapter sound odd, or did the balance between current action with some residual nostalgia work? And if it didn't, suggestions would be appreciated. Until next time, it won't be nearly as long...RL backed off a bit. ^^