Merc

AN: So…since I didn’t really get any feedback on the perspective and how the last chapter was written, this one is in the some “tone.” I really don’t know what else to do unless I switched to nonPOV. I won’t do that, there are times when I’m practically itching to do so, but I really wanted this to be my version of Trowa’s world. Switching POV’s or even to a narrator would completely eliminate what I’m trying to do.

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I was only with Winner for a day and a half, but the civilian news reports alerted me to quite a bit of activity in the past few hours. Knowing I couldn’t get an accurate picture with the propaganda the Alliance and Oz fed to the media, I decided I would stop in and check the activity reports myself.

There was a base not too far off my intended course to meet up with the circus, so I hid the truck and Heavyarms in the deep forest I was passing through, covering both with camouflage netting, and made my way to the outskirts of the base to await nightfall.

I made note of the perimeter cameras and the paths the guards from my position hidden in the trees, and as the dead of night fell, I slipped easily passed their perimeter defenses. I traveled as a shadow across the open ground, disappeared between the metal and concrete buildings, and scaled the walls of the tallest building I could find. The rooftops gave me more of an advantage, inexperienced guards very rarely look up.

The mobile suit hanger was my target, it made for the private and most protected place to hack into the communication logs. There were two guards posted in front chatting, without a care in the world. Fools. The security on the roof was minimal, just a few laser sensors placed on the windows.

Well placed mirrors allowed my entrance without alerting anyone. As I dropped to the rafters, I noted there was another soldier walking among the suits for additional security. He was standing in the middle of the room, casually looking up at the suits, which could mean trouble if he caught the shadow of movement as I let myself fall silently to the suit nearest me.

As I debated what to do with him, I got lucky. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes. The scratch and hiss of the match against the matchbook hid the slight hiss of the cockpit door opening slightly. As the flaring light of the match dimmed, I slid into the suit.

The security of most Alliance bases is based on the same premise. It’s a closed system, any computer or software program running from that base has access to certain “public” information to all the soldiers. That information was served to inspire and inflame the troops to fight harder for their cause. I wasn’t aiming for any confidential or top security information.

The smallest computer in one of the many mobile suits would work just fine for what I wanted. I only used the small side screen, it was all I needed. I flipped on the suit cameras to keep an eye on the interior guard, and got to work.

I found the communication logs within the Alliance military bases and found which locations were hit and what specifically was the intended target. It seems a shuttle of highly trained “Specials” was taken out in route, a mobile suit factory, and a marine based suit transport ship were all targeted in or shortly after my mission to take out Corsica base.

While I was reviewing the intended target material, I also found some interesting data. It seems we pilots had been given aliases to help the military keep track of us. And, how sweet of them, they included pictures.

Alias 01: The pictures of 01 were aerial shots, as if a shuttle was tracking it. This gundam apparently had the ability to transform from a jet-like flyer to a gundam very similar to my own. Paint scheme: mainly blue, weapons listed: thermal powered beam saber, thermal buster rifle.

Alias 02: The pictures were at night, from distance, not a clear picture among them. Paint scheme: black and grey, weapons listed: thermal powered scythe, otherwise unknown.

Alias 03: Was me. I was more than irritated. My mission was to keep my gundam a secret and kill any who had seen it.

Alias 04: Was Winner’s gundam. Weapons listed: paired “cross crushers.” My eyebrow raised at that. Who wrote up this description? His main weapons looked like the sickle-like swords preferred by ancient terrans along the Nile region, but, then again, I couldn’t remember what they were called either. (1)

Alias 05: Paint scheme: blue and red, weapons listed: thermal powered glaive, flame thrower.

My efforts proving fruitful, I checked the external cameras of the suit to ensure the guard wasn’t paying attention, he had taken a seat on one of the metal feet several suits down; and I slid out of the cockpit unnoticed.

This was a minor base, having only about twenty Leos stationed here. It was mostly a ground based security, tanks, turrets, and surface to air missiles. It wasn’t a mission I had been given specifically, but I had been instructed to destroy Oz and any affiliations.

I left a few presents in the suit hanger, enough to take the heavy roof down, crushing the suits below, and a few more in the munitions quarters, the combined firepower would be enough to take out any potentially pesky turrets. All were set to detonate at dawn, five hours and counting until chaos; Heavyarms and I would be safely out of reach by then.

I made it safely back to the circus, hid the gundam, and changed into my costume just in time to make it to the first performance at this location. The past few days they were en route, so I didn’t miss a performance despite my mission. Manager didn’t like my disappearance, and told me so.

It was my first performance, and Catherine sought to reassure me, trying to comfort me before she used me as target practice. I needed no comforting; I had stared through the eyes of death before on multiple occasions. Watching while she threw knives at my head was no different.

But what if it was?

What if her knife found home? Would that be such a terrible loss? Life, death, what’s the difference? I had been fighting since I birth, practically, fighting to survive, fighting for position, fighting to earn every possession, every breath. And it seemed that no matter where I went or who I knew, I would always be fighting.

But what if it stopped? Would it take my death for my fight to end? Was I tired of fighting? It was really the only thing I was good at. If I stopped fighting, what was there left for me but death?

And suddenly, I felt the overwhelming urge to lean my head into the path of the oncoming knife. End it now, fast forward through the endless battles that held my life hostage.

But I didn’t; the steel will, the absolute control that I have needed to survive, kicked in and my head remained motionless. I felt the silver edge of her knife slide along my temple, slicing shallow, but deep enough to bleed. A red line ran the length of my face as we bowed to the cheering crowd.

Catherine found me sitting in front of the lion cages afterwards.

“Trowa! Why didn’t you dodge the knife?!” She sounded distraught, no doubt emotions were running rampant across her face, but I kept my eyes closed.

“I’m not paid to dodge.” My voice was calm, face giving nothing, but I was irrationally irritated.

“Boy, you look just like a wild beast. Your eyes are just like that lion’s.”

With that comment my eyes opened, head rising some, but my gaze was directly in front of me, not looking at the girl to my left. The male lion behind me raised his head as well, growling as if he understood her comment and didn’t agree.

“Oops. I guess that was an insult.” She voice lifted, joking.

Irritation still hounded me, and it was only increasing. But I didn’t know why. Was it because of my instant of irrational thought, my questioning my purpose? Was it because, for a moment, I desperately wanted to die? Was it because she bled me, or because she missed the kill shot?

Maybe the soldier in me refused to be in such a vulnerable position, the victim of a girl. I don’t know.

But she kept talking. “You would look better out there if you smiled a bit. You’re good looking, and I’m not just saying that. Oh my god! I haven’t even apologized to you, yet! Trowa, I’m really sorry I hit you.” She bowed to me as she apologized; I caught the movement in my peripheral vision.

I stood, too irritated to stay put. I needed to move. “I told you, Catherine. This is my job.”

“Trowa! How about that smile?” Her voice called after me and only further increased my ire.

I took to the trees, there was a thick grove that hid Heavyarms. Sitting among the branches, I let go of everything, breathing deeply and letting all the irritation seep out of me like rain water through cupped hands.

It didn’t matter where it came from, as long as it went away and didn’t interfere with my ability to keep fighting.

In the early morning hours, a quiet beep alerted me to a new mission. It would seem all of the leaders of Oz would be assembled in one location for a meeting. It looked too good to be true, but I expected extremely heavy resistance. I would need my wits about me, no more room for doubt.

I located the New Edwards base, estimated the distance from my current position and the date and time of the conference. Transport ship would be the most inconspicuous method. Hijacking a shuttle would be the fastest transportation, but shuttles don’t just go missing. It could alert the enemy. Plus, I wasn’t too far from the base initially, I had plenty of time to take the slower, less obvious route, and still arrive at the base in time to set up for launching the attack. I wouldn’t want to arrive too early and risk being spotted, if the Oz leaders decided not to show due to enemy movement in the area, the odds are, another such opportunity would never come again.

As I was on my way to the transport ship, I had a brief moment of satisfaction knowing how pissed Manager would be when he found me gone again. Then all thoughts left me in blissful solitude as I focused on the sound of the wind whistling through the half-open windows.

But my solitude wasn’t to last.

As I stepped out of the truck that held Heavyarms, safely loaded onto the transport ship. I turned to see Quatre standing in front of me, smiling.

“Hi. So we meet again.” I felt my eyes narrow, lips pressed together, tense; his enthusiasm was simultaneously grating and comforting. It was nice to know he still retained the spirit he had when last we met, just a few days ago, but I would rather be alone, both personally and on the mission.

“Funny we ended up at the same destination.” He took a few steps toward me.

My hands settled on my hips. “I’m doing this alone.” And there is nothing you can say to change my mind.

He mimicked me. “So am I. But what if we helped each other?”

I caught myself before scoffing. His suggestion was the exact opposite of working alone. I turned my back on him, walking away. “Don’t think so.”

“Two’s always better than one.” He called after me, and I thought, fleetingly, that this might be the end of it, but then I heard footsteps jogging up behind me. “Hey, I reserved a room at the Starley hotel until the ship departs. You’re welcome to stay with me there.”

“No.” I kept walking, using the difference in our heights to my advantage, taking longer steps, forcing him to jog to keep up. I had hoped he would just give up, but Winner is the definition of persistence.

“Why not? It would be much more comfortable than anything else around here.”

Comfortable to whom? Luxury does not suit me. “I would be more comfortable with my suit.”

He stopped then. “Oh. Well, I’ll see you again soon, Trowa.”

I didn’t bother to reply.

The next two days were spent weaving in and out of the ship, staying near Heavyarms so there was no chance of sabotage, and learning the layout of the ship, just in case. Otherwise, I did my best to avoid Quatre. I meant what I said about being alone.

It was how I had spent my entire life; that would not change just because I met a potential ally.

My intention to complete this mission alone was not to be, and I knew that the moment I realized 04 was on the same ship as me. We would be arriving at the same time, headed for the same destination, meant to attack a conference on a set schedule. We would be traveling the same path at the same time with the same intention.

But that didn’t mean I would sit down and discuss battle tactics with him. Let him do want he wants; I was set on my attack, he could support me or get out of my way. His choice.

His choice was to stay right beside me as we peaked the hills that framed the New Edwards base. As we arrived, we realized, someone had gotten there first. Two suits like ours were giving the defensive lines hell. 01 and 02 were the first to arrive with 03 and 04 coming in later, irony. Irritating, but ironic.

In all honesty, those two reeking havoc on the lines could play well into my hands. They were a hell of a distraction; however, they were in between me and my target.

I knew the suits were enemies of the Alliance and Oz, but were they other potential allies? Or were they set on the original Operation Meteor? Were they going to destroy Oz only to turn their wrath on the earth itself?

It didn’t matter; Oz was my primary target.

Locked on target, I let loose a round of missiles. The formation of 01 and 02 with the enemy suits surrounding them was sloppy. There was no way I could target one group or the other. If their armor was anything like mine, the suits would be fine. If not, they need to learn better discipline in keeping formation during enemy onslaught.

Both gundams moved before the missiles hit, but 01 was knocked to the ground with the blast. The suits surrounding 01 and 02 were decimated with the exception of seven that had taken cover behind the remains of a concrete bunker. My guns cleaned up all but three which Quatre took care of.

Then the stare down commenced. I had to refrain from sighing. The other suits squared off against Quatre and I, trying to decide whether we were ally or enemy.

“Trowa! Those mobile suits are just like ours!” Winner’s voice echoed through the cabin. “Could they also be…?” His hopes of finding others like us made his voice rise.

“Whatever they are, they’re right in my way!” This was a chance to take out the war before it fully got started.

A shuttle took off with the Oz lionhead symbol emblazoned across the side. A red light flashed through the back of my head, screaming ‘too easy,’ but I paid no head. The fights that had governed my life since birth were endless, and another was coming to its boiling point.

But this time I had a chance to stop it before it got started. And I would.

As I reached for the controls to the beam gatling, I saw 01 transform into its jet form and take off after the shuttle. I felt an eyebrow rise, impressed at how smooth and quick such a transition came to such a huge weapon. And seconds later, the shuttle was nothing more than a fireball.

Mission completed, but not by me.

Movement caught my eye and base reflex was the only thing that let me flip out the knife blade and stop 02’s attack in time to prevent damage to Heavyarms by his scythe. The suit was strong, but I pushed it back and sent a round of bullets at its head, but 02’s shield came up in time to block most of them.

He tried the same swinging attack at Heavyarms’ head, this time with the scythe instead of the staff. The sling blade looks small, but it would hold longer against the pressure better than the long, thinner staff he wielded. Pure physics, 02 could press me all day, he would break first.

“Cut it out you guys!” Quatre’s voice rang, loud through my cockpit.

Another blip on my radar told me of an approaching suit, but I couldn’t falter against the suit I was facing. I’d have to trust Winner to take care of it; I was deadlocked, hands on the controls preventing 02 from slicing pieces off my gundam.

A wall of fire flared in front of my screens, and both 02 and I jumped back. The new suit was 05. Apparently I was wrong to think Winner would watch my back against someone he hoped to befriend.

Noted

“Haven’t you guys gotten tired of these meaningless battles, yet?” His voice broadcast loud enough for Heavyarms’ external audio to pick it up. Behind 02 and me, 01 descended from his flight.

I was now outflanked, and Quatre just stood there watching.

The hatch of the new arrival opened and a young male stepped out. He was dark, head held high, and his voice carried the distance easily. “Don’t you guys realize? You’ve all been lured into Oz’s devious, little trap.”

“We what?” Quatre’s audio switched to broadcast rather than just transmitting to me.

05 pressed on. “Check out the Alliance’s report. You guys just wiped out the Alliance’s pacifists.”

No. It couldn’t be. I input the commands and brought up the latest media reports. He was right. The red, flashing light from earlier was a sad, little voice that said, ‘I told you so.’ And I felt like an utter failure.

The bearer of bad news kept speaking. “This was all completely planned out by Oz. We became their puppets. Controlled by Treize Khushrenada.”

There was a seething, feeling inside me, not anger. Loathing and disgust, with something more potent worming its way inward. I had underestimated the complexity and intelligence of my enemy.

I had been manipulated once again. I failed, and I would have to fight so much harder now because I had been directly responsible for the escalation of the war I had been trying to prevent. No, no, no! My head began to hurt, and I realized my teeth were clenched tightly, tension in my neck bringing on a headache.

05 turned away from his audience. “But I’m gonna fight you, Oz. Even if I’ve got to do it on my own.”

Khushrenada would pay dearly for this.

I left Quatre, 01, and 02 standing where they were. They could do as they wished, but shuttle was the fastest way to catch up to him. There were still some backup troops stationed sporadically around the base trying to defeat the gundams now that they had surfaced, and there were several standing in between me and the shuttles. A few well placed shots and the suits were no longer a problem.

The extendable arm of 05 slammed into the shuttle hold doors. It looks like he’s going after Treize, too.

He pried the doors open wide, grabbing one side and pushing the hunk of metal one way. I grabbed the other side, and we made enough room for several shuttles to pass through the ruined hanger doors. We both froze for a few seconds, recognizing the security around the shuttles.

“Explosive devices with infrared sensors.” I commented, mentally processing what needed to be done. The best way would be to dismount Heavyarms and defuse them by hand, but there wasn’t time for that.

“That won’t stop me. I’m going after Treize!” 05 took off at a run, setting off the explosives set in the ceiling.

Crazy, son of a bitch, he was lucky he didn’t bring the roof down on top of the shuttles we were trying to steal. Pieces of the roof damaged several of the shuttles, but there were enough to accomplish what was needed.

I took one shuttle, loading Heavyarms into the cargo hold; the other guy did the same. Soon enough we were both in route to the fleet Treize had retreated to. Since the carriers we hijacked were Oz make, the fleet let us get entirely too close.

05 crashed his shuttle into one of the mid formation battleships. Oz caught on then and began firing on me. I was headed for the mother ship, but the shuttle was running out of fuel. The explosion on impact wouldn’t be big enough. I locked in autopilot on a collision course and made for my gundam.

The ships elevators brought up several Leos in defense. Mindful that I would run out of ammo quickly, I brought down two Leos then aimed for the ship’s guns the rest were taking cover behind. Using the ships own fire power against its mobile suits would use less ammo. Big explosion, no more Leos on deck.

The other gundam hadn’t left the carrier yet. He was waiting for Treize to make his presence known. Very well. I’ll play back up. Normally this wouldn’t have set well with me at all; however, I was still very unsettled with my hand in the deaths of the pacifists.

I wanted blood. Every enemy that moved would regret it. Let the other pilot cut off the head of the beast, I wanted to tear out its claws one by one.

Blips on the radar made me turn and shoot down the two helicopter escorts, but that turn cost me. Movement behind me, a Leo flying at me, but I couldn’t react in time. I was on the ship’s catapult line. The Leo hit me and we went flying off the ship and into the water.

My knife sliced the suit in half as I sank, but my radar lit up with enemy suits. A whole squad of enemy Cancers was waiting for me in the water. I was surrounded, and my guns are all but useless in the water. The increased density throws off the aim, and the rapid heating and cooling of the bullets shatter them too quickly to be of any use. The short bursts of energy from the beam gatling can’t stand in the water.

I put the gatling gun on Heavyarms’ back, ready for battle with only my switchblade. Outnumbered and in a setting that’s not suited for my gundam, but I wanted it. I needed the adrenaline of battle, wanted to burn away my mistake, wanted to forget I had become someone’s puppet once again.

Torpedoes came at me from several directions; I used my thrusters to rise high enough in the water for them to miss, then closed on the suits nearest me. I bypassed the aim of the first, sliced the cockpit in two then slammed that suit into the one next to it. One should never be so close to his ally, or his ally becomes a hindrance and a danger as he explodes.

A quick glance at the screen let me know how the suits were set. My thrusters forced me into to the face of the next foe, arms locking with the Cancer’s claw-like arms. The new model couldn’t withstand the strength of my gundam, and Heavyarms ripped the suit in to like paper. Before the suit could explode, I was charging at another suit, but this Cancer had an ally lined up directly with it. I waited until my system told me there was a missile lock on me, fish approaching fast, then thrusters forced me into a 90 degree turn, body straining under the stress, leaving the Cancer as its new target as I went for another suit. (2)

My knife sliced off the arm of the next. It wasn’t my intention; I was aiming at the cockpit, but the Cancer is more mobile in the water than Heavyarms. It worked well enough, compromising the integrity of the suit, rushing water frying the circuitry and rendering the suit useless.

The enemies had caught on to the fact that I was limited to short range attacks by now, and were trying to keep me at distance. But it was too late; their formation had me between them and the open ocean. If they retreated any further from me, they would be right underneath the fleet they were trying to protect. An explosion from their suits would blow a hole in the hull of their leaders’ ships.

I caught a Cancer by the arm and swung him into the path of an approaching torpedo. Two more missiles came at me, hidden from sight and system by the explosion of the last suit. I dodged the first which put me in the path of the second. My shield took the brunt of the impact, and the detonation rocked my suit.

Come on, Nanashi, you’re better than this.

I used the missile happy pilot to take out my next target for me with another sharp turn, then threw his wingman through his cockpit. Two crabs with one throw.

The last suit sent everything in his arsenal as I closed, but with so much warning, I dodged easily. I sliced his suit in two with the switchblade and kicked the remains away from me to avoid damage by the subsequent explosion. But as I did this, 05 dropped into the water behind me.

“Did that guy accomplish his mission? Hey, you! Can you hear me?” I knew he could, he had responded to me outside the carrier hangar.

But he said nothing. He just let his suit sink deeper into the water.

“I understand. Let’s just drop it.”

I still had plenty of ammo, and between the two of us, we had wiped out most of the fleet’s resistance. Treize would be an easy target, and I could end this now. But this guy had walked away with his defeat. I could practically feel the turmoil boiling over into my suit from his.

I understood that feeling; I had experienced it not long ago myself, and I would again if I kept concentrating on it. It was time to move.

“I’m heading back to my cover ID. If you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come with me.” I’m not sure why I made the offer, and I winced at how similar it sounded to the one Quatre made to me recently. I began making my way to the shore before surfacing; as I stood there waiting for the water to drain some to take some effort away from my abused thrusters, he came out of the water behind me.

I hadn’t expected him to take me up on the offer. Sighing, I led the way back to a forested grove where we could get transport trucks and travel back to the circus. I didn’t really know what to expect, and I wasn’t looking forward to entertaining the other pilot.

One thing I was certain of, though, was Treize. He had tricked us all, manipulated us and caused us to be the enemy of peace with one maneuver. He was clever as a fox, and he was not to be underestimated again.

I decided then that his deceit should be repaid in kind. After all, it would be a kindness; with the coup d’etat that Oz had staged while we destroyed the pacifists, its only fitting that they would need new recruits.
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(1) The swords to which I refer are called khopesh, a common sword used by the ancient Egyptians, sometimes paired, but not always. Really what happened is I was reading what the “extras” on the DVDs called the pilots’ weapons. “Cross crushers?” Seriously? I tried to ignore it, really I did, but I couldn’t. If you want a visual, you can goggle khopesh…or just watch the second mummy movie, there are a lot of them, or you can take my word for it, that’s the best RL reference I could find for what Quatre uses. -_-

(2) “Fish” is a slang term for torpedo with submarine and naval crews.

AN: So...right now I'm following the series with as much accuracy as I can without compromising my view of Trowa's POV. There's a huge internal debate right now about pairings. Should I or not? If so, who? In all honesty, I don't think 03 would allow something to happen during the war, but I did start up the beginning an emotional crisis which could lead to more with someone. I don't know. If you have any thoughts, I'd be open to them. They have to be realistic, though. Please don't tell me to pair him with your favorite pairing "just cause." Remember, I'm following the series as close as possible.

Thanks to all my readers, hope I didn't disappoint.