Disclaimer:: I don't own anything except this story of mine. Gundam SEED and Gundam SEED Destiny rightfully belongs to Sunrise and to Mitsuo Fukuda.
Note:: Hello, everyone! This is my first time writing in this fandom, and I'm very sorry if my characterisations aren't right. ^ ^' This is also my first OC story paired up with a character in the series.
Many, many thanks to superiortechnology for beta-reading! I hope you guys will enjoy reading this!
-Prologue-
«All hands prepare for battle! Condition Red issued. Condition Red issued,» comes the announcement over the intercom.
I look up from the book I'm reading in shock. The Earth Alliance's Military Force have arrived? So soon? I'm not even ready yet!
«All pilots please proceed to the launching area. I repeat: All pilots please proceed to the launching area,» says the person over the intercom.
I groan, not really feeling enthusiastic about working. Nevertheless, I rise from my seat, straighten my uniform, and lay the book down on the desk beside me. With a sigh, I rush out of my quarters and head for the launch area.
I may be a Coordinator, but I'm somewhat poor in battles. I've never once liked the idea of fighting, yet here I am now, sprinting like there's no tomorrow— which I fear could be true.
I don't want to shoot anyone, but if that's the case, why am I in the military in the first place? My reason is to protect, just like everybody else. But, to protect what exactly? Our kind? Our beloved ones? Our future . . .? I'm not sure anymore.
. . . Why?
Do we fight because we're different from one another? Because we're Coordinators and they're Naturals? But, I think that being told that we're Coordinators is only an excuse for us to look down upon the Naturals. We may have manipulated our genes, and we may be more advanced than the Naturals. We might be talented one way or another, but we're all still humans. Nothing can change that fact.
I hate doing this, I think to myself, panting hard. Blinking and bowing my head a little, I continue to run. Maybe this will make me run faster— nah.
As I approach my destination, I bump onto someone and collapse onto my bottom. «Ow! Hey, watch it, pal!» I growl, glaring at the person who's also on the ground.
«I should be the one saying that!» snaps a silver-haired boy with aquamarine eyes. He stands up quickly, brushing some of the dust off of his clothes.
I remain on the floor, sitting there like an idiot.
That bastard begins to walk away, leaving me alone. «Ahem! I need help here!» Although I know that it's childish and stupid of me, I can't help but blurt it out. Bad habit.
«It's not my problem,» he harrumphs, ticking me off. «And besides, I have no time for this.» With that, he runs away.
«Come back here, you bastard!» I scream with the entire capacity of my lungs. As my knuckles whiten, my fists clench, and a crease appears on my forehead, I come to the conclusion that I want nothing to do with that guy.
Maybe shooting Mr. Silver the next time I see him isn't such an unappealing idea.
After all, he's an exemption. With his unnerving attitude, I will not hesitate in acting it out . . .