Broken Angel: Hiya! How's everyone doing? I'm doin' dandy.
Mysterious Person: Are you alright?
Broken Angel: Yeah, why, kid?
Little girl: Because, no one says 'doin' dandy.'
Broken Angel: Kid, I was in a good mood. Now just say the disclaimer.
Little girl: OK. Broken Angel doesn't own Gundam Wing.
BA: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! goes and cries in a corner.
LG: Hehe. -- On with the story, I guess.
"MOMMY!!! DADDY!!! WHERE ARE YOU? MOMMY!!! DADDY!!! MOMMY!! Daddy!! Where are you?" I watch a little girl running through the street. I just saw her "mommy" and her "daddy" murdered a block down by a couple of street thugs. Just for their money. I'm slightly happy at this, for I'm, for once, glad of what I've become. But I remembered, MY mommy and daddy were killed for me. What good are they dead to me. They're the only family I had. I look back to the little girl. She was crying under a street lamp, all curled up into a fetal position on the tip of her feet. How Hollywood. It looked just like a movie. If it were, a couple or a nice old lady would come up any minute, and say: Poor little girl, where are your parent's, no matter we'll take you to a nice warm place
Hm, it really is not a place for a little four or five year old to stay, at least not in the middle of winter. I guess I could help her out for one night; I'll take her to the police in the morning. I get off my perch from a branch in a tree not ten feet from where she was. "Kid." She looks up startled. Whoops. Did I for get to put my cape on? No. Must've not announced my presence loud enough before I called to her. Hehe. I do that sometimes. I reach my hand out to her, signaling for her to come to me. She looks at me a minute. Seeming to put me on trial in her mind. Great, she must be one of the kids from uptown, well, she's gunna' hate my place. She seems to have come to a decision: I'll be good enough to save her. She runs up to me and, uh, well she's hugging my leg and won't let go. Okay. Let go, kid. Come on. "Come on." She let go finally. I picked her up and held her to my chest, her small chubby legs straddling my waist/ribcage. She rested her head onto my shoulder and fell asleep. Well at least she's not crying anymore.
I walk for an hour to the old abandoned warehouse I have called home for the time being. I walk to a room, heading for the cot that I called my bed and laid the little sleeping girl on it. She wriggled for a moment, seeming to have been comfortable in my arms. I leave the little girl sleeping, and go into a larger part of the warehouse to check on my equipment. And to check on my prized possession, my gundam. If only the other gundam pilots knew how close to a war we were coming, back in 195. Then maybe now in 201, I wouldn't have to fight when the time came around. I have to fight if that comes. How else will I know if there are any other doctors creating things like me? If they are I'll just have to put them out of their misery before their born, or see to it that they see that war is not good, all it brings is pain. If they don't see, then they'll have to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I look at my gundam, remembering the hell of a time I had releasing her, during the Eve Wars, from OZ. Hell, I had a better time releasing myself from OZ than I did her. I remember the first time I let myself into her cockpit. When I had retrieved her I had been in a rush, I had no time to hack into her systems to make her mine. So I ended up making the mobile suit mine on earth, after I found a nice abandoned warehouse, not too much unlike this one. What can I say; warehouses just fit me as of late. I inspect my gundam, making sure not one bolt was out of place on her body, and that all her computer systems were alright. I then went to check on the equipment that I had taken from several labs that the gundam boys had left in ruble. It wasn't that they had done a bad job; it's that they left pieces for me to find. I hadn't really fought in the war. When I did people mistook me for Wing Zero, Herro Yuy, Pilot/Gundam 01, take your pick. It probably has to do with the wings on my gundams back. Talking about Herro reminds me. I haven't checked on Preventers as of late. I think I'll go do a little hacking and see what there up to. I go to a different smaller room that I've been using as a living room/kitchen, and go to a stool and crate I use as a chair and table. I take my laptop off the crate and sit down on the stool, my feet resting on the crate as the laptop rests on my lap. I turn the laptop on, and hear a beep sound signaling that I've gotten mail. How the hell did that happen? NO ONE knows my address, Brknwngs, and I always erase every bit of information showing I have been somewhere on the net. I must have done it a few weeks ago when I wasn't getting my sleep requirements.
I opened up the e-mail. Who are you? Who are you? What does that mean? Wait what's the reply address? Wingdsoldr? Who would have an address like that? Wingdsoldr? Wingdsoldr? Ah, I know. Herro Yuy. Well, if he wants to play that game, I'll play with him. I create a new address, Cncrndangl, and then I reply to his message.
How are you, Herro Yuy? I'm Cncrndangl.
I send it to him. Wondering what I might get in return. When I was about to shut down the laptop, I got an instant message. From guess who: Wingdsoldr. I reply. Wingdsoldr: Who are you?
Cncrndangl: Cncrndangl
Wingdsoldr: Answer me.
Cncrndangl: I told you.
Wingdsoldr: Who are you outside of cyberspace?
Cncrndangl: I don't remember.
Wingdsoldr: Stop playing games.
Cncrndangl: What games?
Wingdsoldr: Who are you? Who do you work for?
Someone else logged on. Dethscith. Duo Maxwell.
Dethscith: Hey, why don't ya just answer him? You'll only make him mad and track you down.
Cncrndangl: Alright. If he finds me I'll give Preventers a treat.
I signed off, and cut my connection to the net. I locked my laptop from any connection from any computers, making it a closed circuit. I gave Herro a challenge. And I was going to make it as hard to accomplish as I could. After all, if I were selling my "treats," I would be making millions from any rebels of peace for some of them, for the ones not requiring that much in programming, a few thousand dollars each from any big companies in programming, for the programs. Welcome, to my game, Herro Yuy.
Broken Angel: Wow. That took a bit of time. Well, R&R peoples.
Little Girl: Please review.
Mysterious Person: Are you alright?
Broken Angel: Yeah, why, kid?
Little girl: Because, no one says 'doin' dandy.'
Broken Angel: Kid, I was in a good mood. Now just say the disclaimer.
Little girl: OK. Broken Angel doesn't own Gundam Wing.
BA: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! goes and cries in a corner.
LG: Hehe. -- On with the story, I guess.
"MOMMY!!! DADDY!!! WHERE ARE YOU? MOMMY!!! DADDY!!! MOMMY!! Daddy!! Where are you?" I watch a little girl running through the street. I just saw her "mommy" and her "daddy" murdered a block down by a couple of street thugs. Just for their money. I'm slightly happy at this, for I'm, for once, glad of what I've become. But I remembered, MY mommy and daddy were killed for me. What good are they dead to me. They're the only family I had. I look back to the little girl. She was crying under a street lamp, all curled up into a fetal position on the tip of her feet. How Hollywood. It looked just like a movie. If it were, a couple or a nice old lady would come up any minute, and say: Poor little girl, where are your parent's, no matter we'll take you to a nice warm place
Hm, it really is not a place for a little four or five year old to stay, at least not in the middle of winter. I guess I could help her out for one night; I'll take her to the police in the morning. I get off my perch from a branch in a tree not ten feet from where she was. "Kid." She looks up startled. Whoops. Did I for get to put my cape on? No. Must've not announced my presence loud enough before I called to her. Hehe. I do that sometimes. I reach my hand out to her, signaling for her to come to me. She looks at me a minute. Seeming to put me on trial in her mind. Great, she must be one of the kids from uptown, well, she's gunna' hate my place. She seems to have come to a decision: I'll be good enough to save her. She runs up to me and, uh, well she's hugging my leg and won't let go. Okay. Let go, kid. Come on. "Come on." She let go finally. I picked her up and held her to my chest, her small chubby legs straddling my waist/ribcage. She rested her head onto my shoulder and fell asleep. Well at least she's not crying anymore.
I walk for an hour to the old abandoned warehouse I have called home for the time being. I walk to a room, heading for the cot that I called my bed and laid the little sleeping girl on it. She wriggled for a moment, seeming to have been comfortable in my arms. I leave the little girl sleeping, and go into a larger part of the warehouse to check on my equipment. And to check on my prized possession, my gundam. If only the other gundam pilots knew how close to a war we were coming, back in 195. Then maybe now in 201, I wouldn't have to fight when the time came around. I have to fight if that comes. How else will I know if there are any other doctors creating things like me? If they are I'll just have to put them out of their misery before their born, or see to it that they see that war is not good, all it brings is pain. If they don't see, then they'll have to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I look at my gundam, remembering the hell of a time I had releasing her, during the Eve Wars, from OZ. Hell, I had a better time releasing myself from OZ than I did her. I remember the first time I let myself into her cockpit. When I had retrieved her I had been in a rush, I had no time to hack into her systems to make her mine. So I ended up making the mobile suit mine on earth, after I found a nice abandoned warehouse, not too much unlike this one. What can I say; warehouses just fit me as of late. I inspect my gundam, making sure not one bolt was out of place on her body, and that all her computer systems were alright. I then went to check on the equipment that I had taken from several labs that the gundam boys had left in ruble. It wasn't that they had done a bad job; it's that they left pieces for me to find. I hadn't really fought in the war. When I did people mistook me for Wing Zero, Herro Yuy, Pilot/Gundam 01, take your pick. It probably has to do with the wings on my gundams back. Talking about Herro reminds me. I haven't checked on Preventers as of late. I think I'll go do a little hacking and see what there up to. I go to a different smaller room that I've been using as a living room/kitchen, and go to a stool and crate I use as a chair and table. I take my laptop off the crate and sit down on the stool, my feet resting on the crate as the laptop rests on my lap. I turn the laptop on, and hear a beep sound signaling that I've gotten mail. How the hell did that happen? NO ONE knows my address, Brknwngs, and I always erase every bit of information showing I have been somewhere on the net. I must have done it a few weeks ago when I wasn't getting my sleep requirements.
I opened up the e-mail. Who are you? Who are you? What does that mean? Wait what's the reply address? Wingdsoldr? Who would have an address like that? Wingdsoldr? Wingdsoldr? Ah, I know. Herro Yuy. Well, if he wants to play that game, I'll play with him. I create a new address, Cncrndangl, and then I reply to his message.
How are you, Herro Yuy? I'm Cncrndangl.
I send it to him. Wondering what I might get in return. When I was about to shut down the laptop, I got an instant message. From guess who: Wingdsoldr. I reply. Wingdsoldr: Who are you?
Cncrndangl: Cncrndangl
Wingdsoldr: Answer me.
Cncrndangl: I told you.
Wingdsoldr: Who are you outside of cyberspace?
Cncrndangl: I don't remember.
Wingdsoldr: Stop playing games.
Cncrndangl: What games?
Wingdsoldr: Who are you? Who do you work for?
Someone else logged on. Dethscith. Duo Maxwell.
Dethscith: Hey, why don't ya just answer him? You'll only make him mad and track you down.
Cncrndangl: Alright. If he finds me I'll give Preventers a treat.
I signed off, and cut my connection to the net. I locked my laptop from any connection from any computers, making it a closed circuit. I gave Herro a challenge. And I was going to make it as hard to accomplish as I could. After all, if I were selling my "treats," I would be making millions from any rebels of peace for some of them, for the ones not requiring that much in programming, a few thousand dollars each from any big companies in programming, for the programs. Welcome, to my game, Herro Yuy.
Broken Angel: Wow. That took a bit of time. Well, R&R peoples.
Little Girl: Please review.