LOG FILE LOGIN:
LOG NAME: 195WinnerQuatreRaberba04
PASSWORD: ** *** ******** **** * ***** *** ***** ****
[to the innocent ones I loved and still love]
--PASSWORD ACCEPTED--
AUTHORIZATION COMPLETE.
Five pilots. 195 ac. It had been a time of great destruction, great sorrow, great misery. The word 'great' is used only to illuminate the words, though the words are not ones [of the world] of light at all. Words of hate, blood, and injustice. Words of a killer.
What is a killer? Assassin. Murderer. Not the same. Our language contradicts itself in many places. It is inevitable, and we cannot avoid misinterpretations of wronging, an assassination for an act of murder, or suicide for escape of reality. And yet it was inconceivable during this time to wonder at this, and as we look upon the future it looks dark and bleak.
As I think back, I cannot remember a time when the world was not crashing down in one place or another. It seemed everything had always been wrong, wrong from the very beginning. A most uncanny feeling for anyone to have, and all of us knew it. And that was most likely the source of our destruction, as I now realize far too late to save my only brothers.
Yet as brothers we fought, as all brothers fought, sometimes side by side against a common cause, and sometimes amongst ourselves in an internal conflict. This latter was felt to be a hardship, as one may well foresee, but my story is a long and sad one to recall.
Our first and what we seemed to accept as a leader pilot was a young teenager, more likely called boy than man in appearance but an old, battle-hardened soldier for those that knew him somewhat better. Now that I explain the beginnings of this long tale, I realize that in actuality none of us knew this warrior well at all. He was given the name Heero Yuy, after the first Heero Yuy. The boy was raised to be a soldier-warrior, fearless and intelligent. Born on the L1 colony, he lived through strife and hardship from the very beginning, as the rest of us have as well. Perhaps I do not dwell on detail on his background, but I suppose it is rather impossible to do so not knowing him as well as some of the others might have.
One of these others would be our second pilot, born on the L2 colony and an orphan. Heero was closer to Duo Maxwell than he would like to admit, and though both are as stubborn as mules and a somewhat strong-headed, they pulled through difficult times together, for the most part. Their stubborn actions would conclude many arguments, though not always peacefully nor without bloodshed. Duo Maxwell grew up nameless and alone with other orphaned children, stealing food to survive. Although I have not heard the correct story from the Duo himself, supposedly he had had a good friend whom he hadn't been able to save from a deadly disease. He had stolen only enough antidote for some of them, and his friend, named Solo, had given up his share for the others to survive. Duo was devastated, and took on the name Duo, proclaiming as long as Solo was with him, they'd always be Duo.
Not long after, Duo and some other children were caught and brought to the Maxwell Church. Here Duo earned his trademark braid, done by a nun when he refused to let them cut his long hair. He always returned to the church, whether he had gotten into trouble repeatedly or came back on his own accord I cannot be certain. When the church was burned and levelled to the ground, all the inhabitants killed, Duo again swore vengeance and thus named himself Maxwell, Duo Maxwell. Upon his shoulders rests a heavy burden of hate and revenge to fulfill, yet throughout the years he kept his happy countenance and over-confident self to help us through.
Perhaps I dwell too little on Heero and too lavishly on Duo, but as I further reveal the true strings of this story you may see the reasons and logic behind my moves. And I prefer to think of this as a strategy, for though it is many years past I tend to...refuse, I suppose...that the events ever happened. I never like to think of it, and I felt I needed to record this bit of information lest I forget someday from blocking it out far too long for my own good. It is a sad tale, as I said before, and I must get it all down before it is too late.
And then my dearest friend. Born on the L3 colony, this young man is quiet, but extremely devoted to both his sister and his work. Efficient and trustworthy, Triton Bloom, named Trowa Barton, is a close friend of mine. He does not speak much about our work we had done, and sometimes I wonder if he were here if he would, every now and again mention the mobile suit Gundams and our missions. He had a case of amnesia, an after-effect of one of my greatest follies. I repent my ever trying to reason logic into finding space and the colonies the target, even though they keep telling me the systems clouded my mind. And though Trowa may be another close friend of mine, he too, did not tell me much of his past. As far as I know, he worked with a great company and while accidentally being a witness to a great conversation, he accepted the name and title of the late Trowa Barton, the original. After that I do not know of his doings, though later on he joined a circus, unknowing that the girl he associated with, Cathrine Bloom, was actually his own sister. And then...the events following I dare not reveal until the end.
As for myself, Quatre Raberba Winner, youngest and only male heir to the Winner family, I am a great disaster of failure. All my commitments are entwined folly, my problems someone else's put into my own hands to undo. And yet those tangled strings are my doing, my own fault, and brought back to me for punishment. All the mistaks I have made, brought back in a single sharp, stinging blow.
Arabian and born on the L4 colony, I do not have much to say of myself. Although I have always been told to be merciful and innocent, once the hands of a killer are bloodied, their soul is forever stained with the blood of torn hearts of the friends and family of those you had slain. Once, then forevermore, are the hands of a killer. A murderer.
Our fifth pilot. I know even less of Chang Wufei, pilot of Shenlong, which he called Nataku. Born on the L5 colony, Wufei supposedly had a wife named Nataku. Somehow or another she died, either by suicide or a murder, I am not sure of which. I apologize for the great gaps in my story, but with no one left to ask and no where to turn I must rely on memory and what little I had been told in the past. I doubt the marriage had been of love, being at so young an age, but Wufei felt a remorse for something, and thus named his Gundam Nataku as a remembrance, or perhaps a reminder. Of Wufei I have more information about his most recent moves, for he is within the area and extremely observant.
Wufei now wears a serpent writhing upon a broken cross as his insignia, or perhaps as an emblem, I am not sure of which. It is emblazened upon his jacket, which is black, brown, gold, and hunter green, the colors of himself and his followers. Around his neck is a thick gold chain with the emblem dangling from the front, rather like a medallion. I have heard stories about the words engraved upon that particular medallion, but for now I'd rather not repeat it.
Now that I have accomplished the task of remembering my fellow pilots, I must continue with this story. But it is very late at the moment and as my health is now deteriorating, my sisters urge me to rest. I shall continue this story as soon as I can manage without endangering this mission of utmost importance, my first mission in decades. And now I shall let the loops loose for my story to unfurl.
--LOGIN SESSION CLOSED--
OP:/195WinnerQuatreRaberba04/
||\Logged Off/|| ?exit/end:
QRW Sucessfully Logged Off.
LOG NAME: 195WinnerQuatreRaberba04
PASSWORD: ** *** ******** **** * ***** *** ***** ****
[to the innocent ones I loved and still love]
--PASSWORD ACCEPTED--
AUTHORIZATION COMPLETE.
Five pilots. 195 ac. It had been a time of great destruction, great sorrow, great misery. The word 'great' is used only to illuminate the words, though the words are not ones [of the world] of light at all. Words of hate, blood, and injustice. Words of a killer.
What is a killer? Assassin. Murderer. Not the same. Our language contradicts itself in many places. It is inevitable, and we cannot avoid misinterpretations of wronging, an assassination for an act of murder, or suicide for escape of reality. And yet it was inconceivable during this time to wonder at this, and as we look upon the future it looks dark and bleak.
As I think back, I cannot remember a time when the world was not crashing down in one place or another. It seemed everything had always been wrong, wrong from the very beginning. A most uncanny feeling for anyone to have, and all of us knew it. And that was most likely the source of our destruction, as I now realize far too late to save my only brothers.
Yet as brothers we fought, as all brothers fought, sometimes side by side against a common cause, and sometimes amongst ourselves in an internal conflict. This latter was felt to be a hardship, as one may well foresee, but my story is a long and sad one to recall.
Our first and what we seemed to accept as a leader pilot was a young teenager, more likely called boy than man in appearance but an old, battle-hardened soldier for those that knew him somewhat better. Now that I explain the beginnings of this long tale, I realize that in actuality none of us knew this warrior well at all. He was given the name Heero Yuy, after the first Heero Yuy. The boy was raised to be a soldier-warrior, fearless and intelligent. Born on the L1 colony, he lived through strife and hardship from the very beginning, as the rest of us have as well. Perhaps I do not dwell on detail on his background, but I suppose it is rather impossible to do so not knowing him as well as some of the others might have.
One of these others would be our second pilot, born on the L2 colony and an orphan. Heero was closer to Duo Maxwell than he would like to admit, and though both are as stubborn as mules and a somewhat strong-headed, they pulled through difficult times together, for the most part. Their stubborn actions would conclude many arguments, though not always peacefully nor without bloodshed. Duo Maxwell grew up nameless and alone with other orphaned children, stealing food to survive. Although I have not heard the correct story from the Duo himself, supposedly he had had a good friend whom he hadn't been able to save from a deadly disease. He had stolen only enough antidote for some of them, and his friend, named Solo, had given up his share for the others to survive. Duo was devastated, and took on the name Duo, proclaiming as long as Solo was with him, they'd always be Duo.
Not long after, Duo and some other children were caught and brought to the Maxwell Church. Here Duo earned his trademark braid, done by a nun when he refused to let them cut his long hair. He always returned to the church, whether he had gotten into trouble repeatedly or came back on his own accord I cannot be certain. When the church was burned and levelled to the ground, all the inhabitants killed, Duo again swore vengeance and thus named himself Maxwell, Duo Maxwell. Upon his shoulders rests a heavy burden of hate and revenge to fulfill, yet throughout the years he kept his happy countenance and over-confident self to help us through.
Perhaps I dwell too little on Heero and too lavishly on Duo, but as I further reveal the true strings of this story you may see the reasons and logic behind my moves. And I prefer to think of this as a strategy, for though it is many years past I tend to...refuse, I suppose...that the events ever happened. I never like to think of it, and I felt I needed to record this bit of information lest I forget someday from blocking it out far too long for my own good. It is a sad tale, as I said before, and I must get it all down before it is too late.
And then my dearest friend. Born on the L3 colony, this young man is quiet, but extremely devoted to both his sister and his work. Efficient and trustworthy, Triton Bloom, named Trowa Barton, is a close friend of mine. He does not speak much about our work we had done, and sometimes I wonder if he were here if he would, every now and again mention the mobile suit Gundams and our missions. He had a case of amnesia, an after-effect of one of my greatest follies. I repent my ever trying to reason logic into finding space and the colonies the target, even though they keep telling me the systems clouded my mind. And though Trowa may be another close friend of mine, he too, did not tell me much of his past. As far as I know, he worked with a great company and while accidentally being a witness to a great conversation, he accepted the name and title of the late Trowa Barton, the original. After that I do not know of his doings, though later on he joined a circus, unknowing that the girl he associated with, Cathrine Bloom, was actually his own sister. And then...the events following I dare not reveal until the end.
As for myself, Quatre Raberba Winner, youngest and only male heir to the Winner family, I am a great disaster of failure. All my commitments are entwined folly, my problems someone else's put into my own hands to undo. And yet those tangled strings are my doing, my own fault, and brought back to me for punishment. All the mistaks I have made, brought back in a single sharp, stinging blow.
Arabian and born on the L4 colony, I do not have much to say of myself. Although I have always been told to be merciful and innocent, once the hands of a killer are bloodied, their soul is forever stained with the blood of torn hearts of the friends and family of those you had slain. Once, then forevermore, are the hands of a killer. A murderer.
Our fifth pilot. I know even less of Chang Wufei, pilot of Shenlong, which he called Nataku. Born on the L5 colony, Wufei supposedly had a wife named Nataku. Somehow or another she died, either by suicide or a murder, I am not sure of which. I apologize for the great gaps in my story, but with no one left to ask and no where to turn I must rely on memory and what little I had been told in the past. I doubt the marriage had been of love, being at so young an age, but Wufei felt a remorse for something, and thus named his Gundam Nataku as a remembrance, or perhaps a reminder. Of Wufei I have more information about his most recent moves, for he is within the area and extremely observant.
Wufei now wears a serpent writhing upon a broken cross as his insignia, or perhaps as an emblem, I am not sure of which. It is emblazened upon his jacket, which is black, brown, gold, and hunter green, the colors of himself and his followers. Around his neck is a thick gold chain with the emblem dangling from the front, rather like a medallion. I have heard stories about the words engraved upon that particular medallion, but for now I'd rather not repeat it.
Now that I have accomplished the task of remembering my fellow pilots, I must continue with this story. But it is very late at the moment and as my health is now deteriorating, my sisters urge me to rest. I shall continue this story as soon as I can manage without endangering this mission of utmost importance, my first mission in decades. And now I shall let the loops loose for my story to unfurl.
--LOGIN SESSION CLOSED--
OP:/195WinnerQuatreRaberba04/
||\Logged Off/|| ?exit/end:
QRW Sucessfully Logged Off.