A/N: Hi, minna-san! Well, this is actually my first official fic in the Gundam Wing section. I watch the Taiwanese bootleg version, so I don't know if I have all the names of the organizations and stuff correct, but just bear with me, okay? I'm trying my best.
First off, a bit of clarification in regards to Wufei's name. His full name is Chang Wufei (Wu-Fei and Wu Fei will also do fine); Chang is his last name, Wufei his first. Therefore, if you (and Heero in EW) are in the habit of calling him Chang, you're calling him by his last name instead of his first. His name is pronounced something like "zhong oo-fay", and the Western version of his name would be Wufei Chang although since Gundam Wing is Japanese they would naturally do it the correct way.
So now that I've cleared that up…on to the story. Um, I'm not really sure if the scientists died in that last war with the Earth vs. White Fang, when they blew up the ship Libra. I'm assuming in my story that they survived (if they appeared again in EW then sorry, I haven't seen the movie in a long time). I was also pretty free to fool with Master O's personality as I wished, since he only had one real feature moment in the series (when he beat Duo up).
I'm trying to make sure no characters are OOC, but I'd appreciate any comments you may have.
All right, update again ASAP. Enjoy!
Nataku's Tears
COLONY C-137. 1440 HOURS.
6 AUGUST. AC 197.
It was a masterpiece.
Master O had never felt so proud. After welding in the thick metal plate, he straightened, noting the aching pain in his back, and jumped down from the Gundam to survey his work. It did not look much different from when it had first been brought in, but it now had one little addition. Altron was truly complete.
No one would be able to best this Gundam now, not with his new weapon.
Turning from the giant machine, Master O made his way down the dark balcony to a dark corner, where an even darker person was sitting. "Wufei."
The shadow looked up. Master O smiled. "It's finished."
Seventeen-year-old Chang Wufei nodded slowly and got to his feet. "Xie-xie."
"Don't mention it," Master O said. He knew Wufei wouldn't. Together they walked down toward the Gundam.
As he watched the young man seat himself inside Altron's spacious cockpit, Master O couldn't help noticing the pang of—what was it? Grief? Pain? Maybe both—that flickered in his black eyes. Inwardly he shook his head. He was only seventeen years old and already he had endured more than a ninety-year-old war veteran. He wouldn't be surprised if Wufei were to go crazy one day; he could see it coming. In the meantime, though, there was work to do.
With the growing threat of MANTA-6, there was always work to do.
The entire building shook as Altron's engines exploded to life. The giant machine rose and came to life as if embodied with some magical spell, although Master O knew the only magician was science. With a deep, thunderous roar as if bellowing out a challenge to the sky, Altron shot off to meet it.
The scientist stayed where he was for a long moment, watching as it became no more than an unintelligible speck against the blueness of the L5 colony's sky. He knew he would eventually be seeing Altron—and Wufei—again in the near future, but he could never help feeling something akin to sadness whenever he had to watch it go. Wufei was his son, but Altron was his life.
And now both had left him.
Turning away, he closed the huge sliding doors opening up into the sky and headed down a side hallway into what he would consider his own living chambers. With the relative peace followed by the destruction of OZ, he spent more time here in his personal laboratory than he would have liked.
Peace. That was an interesting word, he thought as he stretched out his muscles, sore and cramped from not moving from one position for several hours. It seemed like a wonderful idea: world peace, peaceful times, peace, peace, peace. But peace was only a fantasy. To strive for peace was like trying to touch a star with your feet planted firmly on the ground. It's there, teasing you, tormenting you with its beauty. You think you might have it, but you have attained nothing. It's never there, no matter what you try.
They knew this. Doctor J, Professor G, Doctor S, and Instructor H all knew this. Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, and Quatre Winner all knew this. Chang Wufei knew this.
He knew this. And that was what had compelled him, alone, with no one else save Wufei's knowledge, to install the new weapon secretly on Altron. He was not threatening this false peace by doing it. He was simply insuring that, when the waves inevitably began to break, the ship called Earth would have a hull strong enough to withstand the pounding of the colonies.
The storm was MANTA-6.
Master O slowly shook his head. MANTA-6. One of the greatest threats to Earth and the colonies alike, that both forces chose to ignore. MANTA-6 had been an inconspicuous branch of OZ, specializing in colonial intelligence and especially weapons development. Steadily, over the war-torn years, it had expanded into its own headquarters situated on a space station similar to a miniature colony, located not far from where he himself lived, somewhere just beyond the L5 colony cluster. While the roaring fire that was OZ had died down into ashes, the world in its blindness of peace had chosen to turn from the glowing spark that was MANTA-6 and look the other way. Master O, having probed extensively into MANTA-6's files, was almost certain that this organization could very well light the flame of war once again in the not-so-distant future.
He firmly believed that Altron's new weapon would serve as the means to extinguish this spark.
He turned then, took one step toward the door—and jumped when an alarm suddenly went off, wailing like a siren. He immediately recognized the warning: perimeter breach.
"Who—"
The alarm was cut off, and an ominous silence descended into the vast laboratory. Suddenly a deep, booming voice said over the intercom, "Master O."
Voice changer, Master O thought.
"It is a pity we did not arrive early enough to detain Altron. However, it is not too great of a loss if you agree to cooperate with us."
Just who is "us"? Master O wondered.
"At this moment, there are more than a dozen well-trained snipers posted around the building, as well as three times more soldiers who are under orders to shoot anyone who comes out a door or a window. We have deployed two strike teams into your laboratory who will discover and apprehend you in a few more moments. The building is rigged with explosives that will go off at any exit point. We do not recommend that you attempt anything rash."
Master O kept silent. Very slowly he crept across the room, reached into a drawer, and extracted a hand pistol.
"We respect your wisdom, Master O. We trust that you will not try anything stupid. We only need you to answer a few questions regarding the weapon you recently started building.
"It is a very intriguing project, really. A laser of some sort, from the information we have been able to gather. Most interesting. We would like to know more about this weapon of yours."
There were several special escape hatches installed throughout the building, specifically designed for emergencies such as this. They were all embedded under the metal floorboards, nearly impossible to locate unless you were the one who installed them, and they would lead you to the nearest escape route: namely, an airport, a garage, or a dock. The closest escape hatch, he knew, was two hallways down and one right, located just underneath the third stall in the restroom.
If he could make it that far alive, he would be able to escape.
"Master O, if you do not wish to die a very painful death, please do as we say."
There was a trapdoor in the next room that would run under the first hallway and emerge at the opening of the second. Inwardly, Master O smiled. His entire laboratory had been built with an underground maze through which only he knew how to successfully navigate.
"You will make your way quietly out from wherever you are hiding and present yourself to our soldiers waiting in the main computer room. You will come in with your hands up. No weapons, please."
Master O slowly opened the door, poking his head out only a bit and glancing down both ends of the hallway. No one there. With the stealth of a cat and the speed of a hare, he darted out, ran five steps down the hallway, and literally leaped into the adjoining room, keeping his pistol cocked all the while. Closing the door behind him, he allowed himself a deep, releasing breath. This didn't happen to you every day.
"Master O, you have one minute to do as we say. If you do not show up as requested, we will release our strike teams and have you brought in by force. If you should attempt anything, we will blow up the building." The intercom was now silent.
Master O crossed the room, bent down, and pulled lightly at one of the square floorboards. It gave way easily, coming up as if it had been built to be removed—it had. Underneath it was a yawning black hole. Master O lowered himself into it.
He was now in a hallway dimly lit by tiny lights. Carefully closing the trapdoor behind him, he made his way down the hall and within moments found himself at a dead end. He was not discouraged, however. Looking up, he could see in the dim lighting another trapdoor.
Here was the dangerous part. Gently pushing the trapdoor up just a fraction of an inch, he peeked through and saw nothing but an empty hallway. Quickly he opened the trapdoor the whole way and hoisted himself up. Two more hallways to go. If he ran, he could make it before the minute was up—
"Your time is up, Master O. We are profoundly sorry."
He cursed silently and without hesitating bolted down the hallway, not particularly caring about the sound his footsteps made on the hard metal floor. He could see where the second hallway ended and opened up into the third on the right. If he could just make it seven steps down the third hallway and into the restroom, he would be safe.
Bringing up his hand holding the pistol, he skidded down the end of the second hallway, turned into the third—
Masked soldiers were at the end of the third hallway, his escape hatch right in the middle. Upon seeing him, they immediately opened fire; he did the only thing available: he continued skidding and slid all the way past the opening onto the other side of the third hallway. Gripping his pistol firmly, he took a deep breath to steady himself, watching as the wall before him became riddled with bullets.
He recognized the uniform. They were OZ soldiers.
Or rather, MANTA-6.
He could hear the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching; they would round the corner and see him at any moment. He took another deep breath to try and clear his head: how many soldiers were there? It looked like three, but there could have been more in the shadows. Let's put it at double the number: there were six soldiers, more or less. All had guns, all were intent on killing him if he resisted, which he intended to do. They were running toward him and would come around soon.
He could shoot two, at most three, if he caught them by surprise. He could use one of their corpses as a shield, shooting from behind it until he made his way into the restroom. The door was thick and could probably withstand their bullets for a minute or two, more than enough time for him to get down the escape hatch and out of the laboratory.
So that was the plan.
They were getting closer. Master O took another breath, knowing very well that it could be his last. Then he leaped out from the corner and turned into the hallway, already firing. The little pistol bucked in his hand and threatened to fall but he kept a good grip on it. His first two bullets hit their targets, and the soldiers fell even as Master O got his first good look: five soldiers, not six as predicted. But he hadn't shot down three, as he would have liked.
He continued firing as the soldiers ducked for cover. In their surprise they had not thought to fire yet, but in a split second one of them was bound to. Master O quickly backed to the wall and bent down to seize one of the fallen soldiers—
A bullet slammed into his shoulder. No! He tried to raise his gun but another one entered, then another. The pistol dropped to the floor. Pain erupted everywhere; the agony was too much to bear—it was as if his entire body was on fire. He was suddenly overcome by an overwhelming fatigue, and he told himself he could rest a moment before resuming the fight. Rest a bit, because he was tired from all that running he had done before. He was getting old. He should rest, maybe even take a nap. Maybe…
He looked up, his vision rapidly darkening. One of the MANTA-6 soldiers stood over him, a gun pointed straight at his head. The man pulled the trigger.
Altron.
He thought no more.
