Author's Note: Lots of juxtaposition, lots of action, yadda yadda yadda, you know the drill by now.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.
Warning: language, violence, death
The Battle for Washington
As the first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Septum stood before the clear windows of the Oval Office, doing nothing but stare out onto the city that he could truly claim as his.
However, his mind was not a blank slate as dozens of scenarios ran through his head and he had the urge to make sure that everything was set up as planned. It could nearly be called a compulsion as he picked up the nearby black phone and rang up the weapon known to him as Copy Chris.
"Is everything ready?" he demanded immediately once someone picked up, cutting out any chance of chitchat.
"It is," Copy Chris answered, slightly annoyed. "It was ready the last time you called and it was ready the time before that. I know what I'm doing already so let me handle it!"
"Don't give me any lip," Septum snapped back.
"Yes sir," Copy Chris said and the General could feel the weapon rolling his eyes in exasperation.
Without having anything else he needed to say or ask, Septum hung up rudely and refocused his attention back to the windows of the office, his office now.
"You know you're just being paranoid," Rex spoke up carelessly. "Everything is ready and everything going to go without a hitch. At the rate you're going, you're going to get a cornea or something."
"It's an ulcer," Septum replied listlessly, not turning around to face the weapon.
"Whatever," Rex shrugged. "I still say you're paranoid."
"And I don't care about what you have to say," Septum retorted. "Today is the day we end all threats to my rule and I am going to be damn sure that this will be the last day."
---
The light brightening of the sky that was the telltale sign that the sun was arriving was the signal that sent Zechs and his team streaking out from their position under the Arlington Bridge and into the War Veterans' Memorials. To be precise, it was the black, reflective surface of the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial that their presence darted in front of, the armed men keeping low to the ground and on high alert.
It had turned out that Trieze's information was correct and the small window of time when a break in Septum's security lines was present occurred. Without wasting another breath, they removed their wetsuits and hid their equipment under the dark waters of the Potomac before stealing out on their dark mission.
Constitution was nearby and their plan was to stay along it until the intersection that led the way to Pennsylvania arrived. That would be a tricky part, especially since the hours of darkness were slowly changing into daylight.
Whatever cover they still had would soon be gone. They would just have to trust in Keppel and the distraction he would be providing.
---
"Our team is on their way," Keppel spoke to himself, looking down at the pocket watch that he held. Glancing up to his officers, he called out, "Move out!"
---
"Morons," Brett muttered to himself as he spied the armed team sneaking their way closer to the White House, watching their every move through his borrowed binoculars.
He had been waiting for sign of them for quite some time; he'd rather have been out on the front lines, massacring those annoying rednecks with the shotguns but Septum had insisted and since he was suppose to keep a close eye on the General, he had to submit and obey.
For now…
Taking out his radio, he reported, "Our friends have arrived and are heading for the party."
---
Time was moving much too fast for Zechs' liking.
The sun was making its debut on the horizon, the dim lighting from the street lights were being flashed off, and Septum's men were becoming more and more awake with each passing minute. Already they had had two close calls, one of which almost blew their cover, and they had barely left the Memorial grounds. The White House was still a vague specter at this point, something that could only be seen from white flashes in the green shrubbery.
Suffice to say, if he had been a lesser man, he would be disheartened.
"Lieutentant! Boogies at ten o'clock and closing!" one of his teammates hissed, causing all the others to tense up. The patrols were appearing closer and closer to one another; it was as if Septum was trying to catch intruders sneaking around the conquered city.
This new group that showed up wasn't a sentry but a long line of troops most likely heading for the front. Glancing at the sun, Zechs mentally noted that now was about the time of day the rednecks would begin shooting. This influx of troops showed that Septum meant business this time and was hoping to eradicate the pest problem he was experiencing.
Well, that problem was about to get worse, Zechs thought to himself.
However, it wasn't just been troops that were marching down Constitution.
Tanks and heavy artillery cannons were being transported directly behind the troops, the tanks breaking up the pavement behind them and the tractor trailers transporting the cannons following at a slower pace due to the wrecked street.
"He's gone mad," Zech muttered to himself.
Septum was really going all out this time; they didn't have much time left to assassinate the man and his insanity. Stealth was starting to become the least of their worries now; they were going to have to reveal themselves now and make their way overtly if they wanted to end this before anymore unnecessary blood was spilt.
"Enough with sneaking around, we're making a run for it," Zechs ordered, surprising the men behind him.
"But sir—" one of the men began to speak only to get cut off.
"There's no time," Zechs interrupted. "Move as fast as you can to the White House and kill anyone who happens to spot us."
"I don't think so."
The new voice brought the Lieutenant's gaze up to the sight of a few armed men blocking their way. Behind them, the thunderous sound of approaching men closed in on them and Zechs knew they would soon be surrounded. Not only that, a tank had pulled up behind the first group of men, its barrel aimed straight at them.
"General Septum has been expecting you," the leader of the armed men spoke, an ominous sneer on his face.
---
"Scouts report troop movement in the Capital," the soldier the stated. "They're heading towards the protesters and will arrive there any minute."
"Is everyone in position?" Keppel demanded. The General didn't like the sound of this but it did reveal that Septum had no real knowledge of their plans. It was a blessing as it was a curse at the same time.
Listening via the radio, Noin reported, "All except for MacKinley's group; they need a few more minutes to get into position."
"No time," Keppel said. "Give them orders to strike as soon as possible and tell the others to attack now. Those protesters will be massacred if we wait too long."
---
Instead of being taken to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Zechs and his team were taken towards the Capital Building, the marble structure towering over them not looking the worse for wear despite the massacres that had taken place inside it weeks before. Zechs could only frown at this; why were they being taken here? Shouldn't Septum be back at the White House lording over all of them?
Their weapons had been taken from them upon capture and their bodies searched for any hidden ones. They were helpless and at the mercy of their captors, to be sure, and whenever one wasn't walking fast enough for their escort, an armed man would rudely shove them to get them moving faster.
He could see why these men allied with Septum; they were all as cruel and despotic as the General himself.
The marble structure was a foreboding sight, the shadow of the building falling over them and filling them all with a sense of menace. There was no air of freedom or democracy here anymore; instead, Septum's autocracy replaced it and Zechs could feel his spirit dampen as he entered through the large doors.
Septum was waiting for them in the large domed room, a pale, dim light illuminating it barely, and the man looked incredibly smug for such a gruff person. However, it was the person standing beside him that captured Zechs' attention.
"You!" Zechs nearly bellowed. "Why—"
Before he could say anymore or do anything, he was jarred by the butt of an assault rifle into his neck and he almost lost consciousness from the pain that throbbed.
Beside Septum was none other than Trieze.
"Glad to see you made it here in one piece," Trieze commented, not looking as if he was concerned for Zechs' welfare.
As Zechs' men came to his aid and surrounded him, the blond could only stare back with a look that was a mix of betrayal, anger, and misery. Keppel hadn't been blowing smoke at all and it looked like Zechs was going to have to pay the price for his loyalty.
But…why? Why would Trieze forsake them like this? Why would he do this especially since he had been fighting against the very people who threatened their way of life? It didn't make any sense…unless he hadn't known who Trieze really was in the first place…
"Worked like a charm," Septum gloated. "At last we can have some real intel on the Resistance and actually do something about them now. Before this day is through, all who oppose me will be crushed and broken and the country will truly be mine at last."
"What makes you think we'll talk?!" one of Zechs' men, Otto if he remembered correctly, shouted.
"Oh, you'll talk," Septum sneered down at them. "In fact, you'll be wanting to tell us everything from Keppel's whereabouts to the way your mother and father met. Brett!"
From the shadows emerged a tall, dark haired boy and after one look at him, Zechs knew there wasn't something right about this boy. It may have been the confident manner in which he walked, the skintight black uniform he wore, or the bright gleam in his eye but Zechs could only watch this man-child close in on them, stalk to them like a true predator and feel dread.
He knew a killer when he saw one and all the signs screamed at the Lieutenant that the boy had spilled blood…and enjoyed it.
Snapping his arm out, a long dagger shot out of the cuff of his sleeve, the dim light of the room reflecting off the sharpened edge. Now closer in proximity, the gleam in Brett's eye made him look crazed and caused quite a few of the men, not just his but Septum's as well, to take a step back.
"We need a volunteer," Septum announced, seemingly not affected by the dark clad boy. "Anybody willing?"
When none were forthcoming, each and every one eyeing Septum and Brett warily, Septum gestured with a hand and one of the covert operatives was grabbed and forced in front of Brett.
With a near lightning quick strike, he cut his blade into the man's arm, leaving only a shallow gash that, when healed, wouldn't leave a scar. Sure, blood trickled from it but the pain involved was so miniscule that it wasn't even noticed.
But…why did Septum look like the best part was about to come?
Defying the laws of physics and any kind of scientific fact that Zechs Merquise knew, the blood in the wounded man's body began rushing out from that small cut, the crimson liquid hovering in the air as a spherical orb and leaving the man looking like a shriveled up husk. Without warning, the blood surrounded its owner's body and squeezed down on it, crushing it until it was little more than a small mass of bones, organs, and tissue.
The incredibly small piece of matter fell to the marble floor with a sickening splat.
Horror. It was horror that was engraved on all the men's faces, both sides in fact. The brutal and horrifying killing was too much, even for these hardened warriors. Only Trieze and Septum seemed unaffected as Trieze held a look of disinterest and Septum was grinning like a madman.
"So," the General began. "Is there anything you would like to talk about now?"
That was the catalyst that triggered Zechs' response. "What the hell was that?! What happened?! What the fuck is going on?!"
Clearly not anticipating this line of conversation, Septum merely laughed in amusement before answering, "This is just the fruits of Project Maxwell, Merquise. And he's not the only one; there was more. Imagine, with these weapons I will not only be able to unite the American people but the entire world will have to submit. Just one of them can demolish an entire city, just like an nuclear weapon but without the harmful side effects.
"We're in a new world, Lieutenant, a world filled with a new kind of enemy and if we want to triumph, we must begin using different tactics. Project Maxwell not only guarantees this, it opens up not just into a new kind of weaponry but how wars will be fought from now on. And for the first time in history, the entire world will be united under one government, one that will not only put an end to all conflict but ensure everlasting peace."
"It'll be your government and the peace that will be…will be that of a prison," Zechs snarled, glaring balefully at the General. Snapping his glare to Trieze, he demanded, "How can you go along with this, Trieze? I thought this was the very thing you were fighting against!"
"Personally, I could really careless about what's happening," Trieze drawled uncharacteristically, raising his hands in an unfamiliar gesture that Zechs had never seen the man perform before. "The whole world can burn for all I care; it's not anything that concerns me."
"How can you say that?" Zechs gasped, the betrayal in his voice palpable.
"Easy," Trieze shrugged. "I just stand here and do nothing." Seeing Zechs' look of disgust and dismay, he added, "Don't look so glum. Trieze was just as surprised right before I killed him."
That got Zechs' attention. "What?"
The chiseled, aristocratic looks of Trieze Khushrenada melted away, the tall, lean body shrinking slightly and forming a completely different person. In place of the Colonel, there not stood a tall, long haired blond with green eyes and a wicked smirk.
Septum chuckled. "Copy Chris here managed to sniff out Khushrenada a while ago. The opportunity to use Trieze's position was too good not to use and now you've fallen into an obvious trap set by moi. Congratulations."
The duo emotions of relief and fury warred within the Lieutenant; relief for his trust in his friend had been true but fury that such trust was being used against both him and Keppel. His anger must have been obvious because Septum spoke up almost immediately.
"Looks like we have another volunteer. Brett, you know what to do."
"Of course," Brett said, stalking towards Zechs with an unholy glee in his eyes despite his stoic movements.
Instead of being shoved forward by Septum's men, they instead herded the rest of his team away despite their vocal complaints and violent struggle as they tried to get around to pull Zechs back. Zechs, however, glared up at the boy, defiant to the end. If he was to die, he would do looking death straight in the face.
Suddenly, the doors to the building burst open and a lone soldier came stumbling in, interrupting the suspenseful confrontation.
Frowning, Septum bellowed, "What are you doing?!"
"We're under attack!" the man cried out. "The Rebels! They came and they're attacking!"
---
While it was true Septum had been expecting some sort of strike from the Resistance, the fact that it came along with the hit squad was something that he hadn't counted on. The obvious signs of this were how Keppel's army was able to sneak up on Septum's forces from behind without being spotted.
Caught in the middle of fighting untrained protesters, Septum's forces fell into confusion and anarchy as the rebel army fired at them from behind and mowed them down. Sure they had tanks on their side but thanks to the unexpected attack, Keppel's men were able to reach them first and plant C4 explosives on them, their detonation being the signal for the rest of the rebels to attack.
However, what they hadn't counted on was Rex.
With a swipe of his hand, dozens of soldiers burst into flames all the while the boy glaring at their unexpected intrusion heatedly. This wasn't part of their plan, not the bossman's or the General's, and so Rex took his frustration out on anyone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Unfortunately, that also included Septum's rapidly disorganized soldiers.
A swath of fire and death expanded with Rex at its epicenter. His eyes were positively radiant as they glow with a fiery red-orange; wherever the bright irises landed, more soldiers lost their lives as they were consumed in fire. Out of all the destruction, he left a small oasis of life; this was intentional as a plan had formed in his mind and without a second thought he decided to act on it.
It was just a simple soldier who had half of his face burned but was nonetheless more traumatized by his comrades-in-arms falling to some sinister force that the physical damage that was done to him.
Stomping a foot onto this fallen soldier's chest, he stared down at him malevolently. "How much do you want to live?"
The man's eyes stared back at him in fear and he drank it all up greedily. This sensation of power was addictive and he didn't think a little more would hurt.
"You don't want to die, right?" he pressed. "Then you'll need to make yourself useful, eh? Tell me where your leader is and I'll let you live. Talk!"
But the soldier did not talk, only stare at him as if he was speaking in another language. Without further use, Rex fried him and began searching for another survivor. He would find where the rebel leader was and put an end to this.
A gunshot was heard and pain spiked from his shoulder right where the bullet bit into him. A yelp escape his throat, revealing him to be one who was unused to pain and he clutched at the wound, his murderous gaze searching for whoever shot him.
And he found the perp.
Standing in the midst of the battle was a stern looking lady with cracked glasses and mussed up hair. He stared the woman down who seemed oblivious to the battle raging about them; then again, many people were trying to get as far away from this spot so there wasn't much of a chance that a bullet would be shot at either of them.
"Who the hell are you?" he snarled, his eyes glowing, literally, with malice.
The lady didn't reply with words per say and it was only luck that he was using his powers at the moment that saved him as said lady began shooting at him again. Because he was using his powers, he changed his target at the last second to the gun and used the hammer of the bullet within its chamber as a catalyst to combust the weapon and severely wound the lady's hand.
With a cry of pain, she clenched her wounded hand and stumbled back, falling onto her ass as tears of pain threatened to leak out from her eyes.
Smirking, Rex stalked over to her, taking his time as he had the sadistic urge to lengthen her suffering. She had shot him and now would pay the price for forcing him to feel pain…
"Normally, I'd kill you quickly and get on with my life," he spoke conversationally. "However, I'm gonna make an exception in your case."
The lady growled back at him, her uninjured hand out of sight while her injured hand bled profusely.
Something about her struck him funny and it frowned down at her, trying to recall exactly what it was. "Hey, aren't you that one guy's bitch? The one that Chris killed?"
"His name was Trieze, you son of a bitch," the lady hissed, a gunshot following immediately. Raising her uninjured hand which now held a gun, she fired shot after shot into Rex, not hesitating and until she had fired all the bullets in her gun's clip.
As the bullets ripped through his body, Rex could only stare back at his assailant in shock before he stumbled back and fell, his body laying still on the pavement.
Still pulling the trigger on her empty gun, the lady known as Une could only stare hatefully at the boy's corpse, her tears finally escaping her eyes and trailing down her cheeks.
---
"What?!" Septum bellowed. The General looked as if he was about to blow a gasket but Zechs couldn't help but smirk smugly at the man. Catching the Lieutenant's gaze, Septum glowered. "You knew about this?"
"Let's just say General Keppel is a very proactive rebel," Zechs replied.
A high pitched whistling sound captured their attention next and one by one, the eyes of every man in the room widened. The explosive projectile that had been hurtling through the air detonated right in front of the large entrances and sent small pieces of debris everywhere, ripping into Septum's messenger and killing him.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Zechs threw himself forward and into Brett, grabbing the boy but his bladed arm and ramming into him. The two males fell onto one another and proceeded to wrestle, Brett trying to get just one little cut on the blond while Zechs tried to dispatch the blade.
Meanwhile, the rest of Zechs' men were pulled out of their stupors and reacting as well. Struggling against their captors, they broke free, snatching Septum's men's rifles and firearms while they were at it, and began shooting up a storm. With bullets flying all over the place, as well as how disorganized Septum and his men were, they were mowed down with ease.
Septum, however, remained belly down on the ground and could only watch in increasing rage as his men were being taken down. He had been in control of the situation only a few minutes ago and now he had lost it. There was never anything he hated more than to lose control…
Meanwhile, Zechs had found himself on his back as he continued to struggle with Brett. The boy was much stronger, physically, than he seemed but was nonetheless exerting himself in trying to press his deadly blade against the larger man's skin. With the bullets flying haphazardly as they were, Zechs thought that it wasn't asking too much for just one of the flying projectiles to meet with the killer above him.
But luck wasn't going to be that gracious so the blond knew that he was going to have to triumph on his own. Gritting his teeth as he fought to keep Brett's blade from getting closer to him, he moved his leg between Brett's and then kick his knee up into Brett's groin.
That stopped Brett altogether and Zechs used the boy's sudden immobility by pushing the blade away from him and to a side and delivering a head butt to the face. Shoving the boy off him, he rolled onto his stomach and began to drag himself towards the nearest dead soldier. The corpse had to have some kind of firearm on it and he would feel safer with some sort of weapon in his hand.
Reaching the body, even as the sounds of gunfire begin to decrease, he roams his hands all over the body, becoming so single-minded in this task that he is practically unaware of his surroundings. Finding a handgun, he doesn't check to see if it's loaded as he rolls onto his back, pointing the gun where he last left Brett and clicking the safety off.
Immediately, he rolled to the side as a gelatinous tentacle slams into the floor in which he laid on.
Maybe he had been too involved in his struggle for survival; he had, after all, forgotten that Brett wasn't an ordinary boy but one that held control over liquids. Add to that the fact that there were a lot of dead men, all of whom who were bleeding, and you have the makings of a massacre waiting to happen.
Continuing to roll, Zechs evade each and every liquidy slap that tried to get him and somehow he managed to get back onto his feet. Discharging a few shots, he watched in dismay as the blob of liquid blood caught the bullets and then fire them right back at him. It was a miracle that he didn't get hit when he started running, dodging the bullets as best as he could.
Meanwhile, Brett was really getting focused into the fight, trying to squish the puissant that dared hit him in the family jewels but not really trying hard. He was far from worried about bullets and whatnot, especially since he caught them all with his barrier of blood and repelled each shot back at the shooter, occasionally adding more liquid into his arsenal.
It would be a bit of an understatement that he was just playing around; it wasn't as if he was facing off with somebody else who underwent the bossman's program. These were just some normies, nothing too difficult that he couldn't handle.
"Brett!" The shouting voice managed to pierce through his concentration but he only turned his head enough so that eyed Copy Chris from the corner of his eye. There stood the shapeshifter with the mussed up General beside him and Chris didn't look happy. "We're getting out of here!" the shapeshifter yelled. "Stop playing around and get your ass over here already!"
Brett was half tempted to ignore that and continue playing around but a small voice in his told him that it would be best if he listened. Many of the others who had been chasing Solo and his shadow around the desert hadn't and look what happened to them.
He didn't have much time to think on the matter anyway; a high pitched whistle caused all movement in the room to suddenly stop, the sound getting louder and louder until it was almost upon them.
High above, an explosion punched through the domed roof, caving in a large section of it and breaking it into falling pieces of marble that was heading directly for the group of fighters below.
Seeing death almost upon them, Zechs said to hell with it and ran for his life, seeking cover from the falling rocks that were more than heavy enough to crush all of them. Ducking into a small enclave, he covered his head as large chunks of marble slammed into the smooth, blood drenched floor, the harsh sound of the multiple collisions echoing throughout the large room.
---
Dark streams of smoke rose from the battle weary city as General Keppel made his grand entrance into it. The battle had ended an hour ago, after Septum's forces had surrendered one by one throughout the city and contact with Septum himself had cut off abruptly.
The General could only hope and pray that Zechs' team had succeeded but for now he would have to push it aside.
Surrounded by the destruction and war-induced color jobs of some of the most famous monuments in the nation, Keppel couldn't help but take in a deep breath of air. It was the air of chaos but also that of freedom, freedom fought for, died for, and earned.
It was a memory that he would hold onto for the rest of his days.