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Ann and Rachel
Part 1
DISCLAIMER:
All characters are copyrighted by Sunrise and Bandai, are not mine to use, and
belong the above
entities. This work is for entertainment purposes only.
========================================================================================================
Contains: YURI, Shoujo-ai, death, violence and angst. Centered on two OC, the G-boys play supporting roles. Enjoy!
========================================================================================================
Perhaps it is a sever
lacking in emotional outlets, maybe it is the absolute hatred of all things
weak, or maybe I am crazy. I usually don't think this way, I don't
question my sanity or think of what a 'normal' life is like. I, instead,
take great pride in my work, great joy too. I enjoy the smell of burning
plastic, the almost sickingly sweet smell of burning human flesh and the smell
that generally accompanies the detonation of explosives. The outcries as
people realize that is occurring around them, the sound of bullets piercing
flesh and ricochet off of objects fills me with a sense of accomplishment.
Perhaps it is the nasty childhood I had, or the fact that at the age of 6 I was
made to shoot both of my parents while they cried and pleaded for mercy.
I'm sure all of these things made me into the magnificent killing machine I am
now, but I think it would be the 12 years of training, beatings, rapes and
generally horrible treatment that shaped me into the ego-manic I am today.
I know that most people would take one look at me and
think 'what a sweet and innocence creature' I must be, such a sweet face and
lovely hair. And I suppose for most people that remains the truth, they
never know that I was the one who blow the building their son or daughter, the
OZ officer or cadet, was in sky high. But, to the few who get to see me
work, I hope I strike such fear and hatred into them that their last moments are
spent hating me. Goodness knows I've spent all of my twenty-one years
hating them. OZ, they come in to space and take it like they have some
right to it. They've killed so many more people that I'll ever get the
chance, but I am only one person.
Of course, there are those bumbling boys out there,
making a muck of things with their toys, gundams indeed. They have no
finesse, they come in making unnecessary noise and 'showing off' those piloting
skill of their and all the world knows the site of the gundam. But, the
public doesn't know of me, I'm silent like a shadow. Of course, we work
towards the same goals, or so my advisor believes. I'll get my chance and
then we will see what peace is really made of. But, enough thoughts of
world domination, no one likes a bedtime story where their prince in white armor
gets killed in the first paragraph.
Tomorrow I blow several small installations in the
Middle East, easy enough work. The boys are to be in northern Europe
somewhere, far enough for me not to worry about them interfering. Quick
and easy, I plant the explosives, get what data is needed from the computers and
make my escape under the cover of confusion and explosives detonating.
Should prove to be a lovely show. Then off to a small little country that
just started itself up again after being shut down by the Federation, the Sank
Kingdom. There is a school there now, teaching pacifism. I am to be
a student (at the age of twenty-one, I would like to think I am no longer in
need of *those* sorts of lessons), and learn how to be a complete weakling from
Princess Relena Peacecraft. Those Feddies, never finish the job they start
do they, leaving a living heir to the throne (really!).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Middle Eastern OZ base on the island of Bahrain was
rendered completely useless at 0'200 hours. An unseen invader had laid
plastic explosives in strategic locations (the MS hanger, the barracks, the fuel
storage units, the data processing unit and the communications tower). The
men and women in the barracks were killed, the mobile suits melted past use, the
data in the computers lost and no way to call for reinforcements.
A young woman leaned back in her chair, pleased to read
this report, it meant that her beloved was doing a good job and was safe.
Satisfied, she retired to her rather cramped room behind the research lab where
she worked for Dr. J. She stepped out of her work coveralls, dark with
machine grease; reveling her slight frame and toned muscles. Striping off
the tank top that had been the only thing still covering her chest she was now
only clothed in her underwear and socks. She put her hands on her hips and
looked around the room 'where did I put my nightshirt? I had it this
morning, or did I? Come to think of it, I think I wore that tank top.
Well, now what am I going to do?' She picked the tank top and put in back
on. She then lied on the short bed and stared up to the ceiling.
There, hanging from the ceiling was an enlarged picture of her beloved and
herself having fun on one of their very rare days out. She looked at the
image, the long silky, red hair that seemed to disappear when there was a job,
those warm hazel eyes that could go so cold, the smile that she had seen twist
into a evil sneer, and that lovely little nose that had nuzzled her neck
sometimes. A completely gorgeous face with a tall, strong, lithe body
capable of amazing things. She looked at the picture and remembered what
it was like to put her head underneath that chin and pull herself into that
chest; she always felt completely safe and warm there. The scent from her
beloved was an odd mixture of soap and explosives, but she thought it was an
intoxicating fragrance. She signed at the thought of it. Of course,
that had been a little over one year ago, who knows what this operation had done
to her beloved.
She had to go to sleep; laying there thinking about
this wasn't going to help her solve any of the design problems she was facing
with that damned machine. Dr. J had built a gundam before; surely they
could take the best aspects of that machine and incorporate them into Shadow
(her pet name for it and her beloved). But, the good doctor had decided
that an entirely new machine had to be designed. When Rachel had asked why
a gundam hadn't been designed already, Dr. J just looked at her and said 'young
lady, who is in charge of this operations?' She promptly shut up, but
still wondered; younger one been trained and given a gundam, why not the older
one?
Of course, her beloved didn't want the 'blasted thing'.
Thought they made too much noise and encouraged too much bravado from those who
piloted them. That was why she *had* to make this machine quiet, graceful
and unseen like a shadow. She wanted so badly for her beloved to be
impressed with her. So, she had to go to sleep and find answers to the
design problems. Making adjustments in the fighting, weapons, speed,
power, and armor abilities of the suit. She dearly wanted to pack so much
armor onto it that there would be no possibility a missile or beam saber could
ever pierce it, but she also knew that she needed to make it fast. The two
characteristics were in direct opposition to each other. The less armor it
had the faster it was, but less safe. 'Of course' she thought, 'I could
make it so fast nothing could hit it.' She just lay there on her back,
getting no sleep and wrestling with the problems of keeping her loved one safe,
but able to do the tasks they were presented with. Finally she gave up,
ordered the lights to turn themselves off and rolled to her side, pulling the
covers with her. "Oh Ann, can I ever make a gundam you would like to
pilot?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well, I am now in this wretched school, listening to
this pathetic little girl lecture me on peace. She doesn't even remember
how it happened or the feeling of loose when her parents were taken from her,
how could she possibly think she understands the loose that these people have
felt? Pampered little beast, perhaps I'll find something she really cares
about and then she'll understand. Absolute pacifism, really! How
absurd can you get? I got a message from my advisor; they plan on *making*
me take a gundam. They feel it will give me more opinions in the way I do
things. Sure, I'll just go about it board daylight shooting things, like
those idiots. I feel ridiculous in this skirt; I tried my best to get
pants, explaining that I felt more comfortable in pants. The woman looked
at me and said that nice girls wore skirts. I was about to say that I
wasn't what one would normally call a nice girl, but just took the uniform I was
given and marched way to my room. I only have to wear the thing during
classes, on my time off I can wear whatever I like; but it seems like the rest
of these silly little girls like to wear them and go about in the damned things
all the time. Of course, Miss Relena (as she has asked us to call her,
instead of your highness) wears hers constantly and the girls here idolize here
so completely that they might just be emulating her. I, of course, change
once classes are over into my black coveralls that I use to wear when I was on
the colony and get looks of completely disgust from the other girls. I
can't say that I am fitting in too well at the school. But, I am seven
years their senior and even though I am trying my best to act like a silly
little school girl, I never was a silly little school girl.
I've been here for three months and nothing interesting
has happened, nor have I been required to perform any duties. I get
regular messages from Rachel on the progress of Shadow. She has tried so
hard to make the machine perfect, and she worries so that I will reject it off
hand. If she had perfected the rather infamous Zero System and made it as
quite and fast as she says she has, I should be quite pleased with her.
She asks if I miss her. I'm not sure what to say. She asks if I can
remember her face. I can remember complete strangers' faces, why should
hers be anymore difficult. I understand that she is looking for emotional
support from me, but I lack the ability to give it. So, I ramble off her
facial features to her is letters. Her short brown hair that has a slight
kink to it, her pretty little face with high check bones and a dainty nose,
those unusually blue eyes she has. Her body, toned but no scars and how
she is the perfect height to tuck her head underneath my chin when we embrace.
It is usually after I write this that I feel an over whelming need to shoot
something, blow something to pieces or destroy something completely. I
would like to think that it is my preferred way of expressing my feeling,
through violence. I usually just punch the walls of the titled shower with
my left hand until it is bloody and bruised. Of course; the wall doesn't
scream in pain, but neither do I.
A very interesting event occurred yesterday, two boys
came into the school. I didn't know that males were being admitted, hmmm.
I did notice that dark-haired boy reminded me of someone I've seen before, but I
can't seem to place him. The other is quite clearly from the Winner
family; he could be quite useful as a hostage. Might be able to get a nice
little ransom for him indeed. Of course, that isn't why I am here; in fact
I'm not sure why I am here. I do believe the plans landed by Dr. J where
mucked with when that Une woman threatened the colonies with barge. Quite
a brilliant strategy, I think if I ever met her I would like her. She
doesn't seem to play fair, quite respectable.
You
want to get a hold of the LostGundam? Try emailing
her, she might even respond
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