AN: This might be the last chapter for a few days or so, as I have a really crazy couple of days coming up. There are more perspective shifts than I'm normally comfortable with in this chapter, but I hope that they serve their purpose well. I tried to write this chapter originally with my usual three perspective changes, but it didn't work right. That being said, I like this chapter. I finally got to play with Gallagher's head, and it makes me happy (which is kind of depressing, but still). After getting some comments back from the last chapter and hearing some critiquing, I went back through it and admit that it could have been handled much better. I struggled with the decision to edit it a lot and repost, but thought against it. I added four words at the end that will hopefully sum up what I hope to gain from the chapter in the future as it really has significance in the emergence of Lyle/Anew. I think it'll become clearer when I can get back inside Lyle's head again. Let's just say it'll affect him much more than Rev. Rev's life gets infinitely harder from this point out. If she isn't a masochist by now, she'd better start considering the mindset, because there will be pain. Completely random, but the first line of this chapter makes me think of a Gallagher Maybelline commercial for some reason. "Maybe he's born with it, Maybe it's mind control!" *cue shiny mask closeup and evil smile*.

Thanks to those who messaged their input, and to Stormy, whose critique was much-needed and actually ended up clearing up something in my head for future chapters! I agree that the last line does seem to rush their resolution. I should be clear that they definitely don't return to normal, and I didn't convey that over the course of the chapter unfortunately. I'm always open to critique though, so don't worry about it! To Anne: It makes me crazy happy to hear that she's well-developed. I think I've been delving into her perspective a little too much in the last few chapters though, so I'll be pulling back and getting at some other areas. As for Lyle...I love him to pieces so I can't express enough how happy I am that you like his portrayal. I've found that the more I write Lyle the less I like Neil, which makes me feel guilty, but hopefully I'll get over that in the future.

I listened to "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails for Gallagher's part, and a random mix of stuff for the rest.

**When Marie and Rev are talking, if Marie's lines are in italics it's because she's speaking through glass.

Shock Value

"It's discouraging to think of how many people are shocked by honesty and not deceit"

"So perfect…so perfectly me."

Ailin Gallagher ran his hand along the center control panel of his new mobile suit. Katagiri had really outdone himself, it was perfect. It was more than perfect. It was a Gundam.

"GNW-2500 Gundam Proculeza."

He tested it out, rolling the words on his tongue. Even the name was perfect. Proculeza. Proculo. The demon of dreams. It suited him incredibly well. It was a combination of the Gadessa and the re-examined Throne Eins, boasting speed, flexibility, and long-range firing capabilities that god himself couldn't out-shoot. Not that god existed; man had killed him centuries ago. Now there was only Gallagher.

There was another man with a machine like his, a Gundam Throne hybrid. He'd met him twice, in passing. War was his reason for living, he'd said. Somehow, for reasons unknown, just hearing the man's voice as he uttered those words had made his stomach turn violently. It was then that he decided that war wasn't the explosive, untamed thing that the middle-eastern mercenary had suggested. It was something delicate and intricate, like chess, but with no resolution or clearly defined winner. Even Gallagher himself wouldn't win. That was why he loved the battles. Every dodged shot and every blocked saber slash was one step closer to the intricately woven plan of his death. It was beautiful.

He watched the screen in the center of the cockpit with absolute, malicious glee. He could see the resource satellite that they were patiently waiting to destroy. Lagrange Three, one of Celestial Being's many hidden bases. He leaned back in his seat and propped his feet up, unable to stop his grin as he thought of what was to come. The barrage would begin anytime now. Missiles shooting all around them, landing here and there, blasting chunks of the organization's refuge into nothingness and reintroducing them to the sheer chaos of fear. Would they panic? Would they pray? No, they were a colony of scientists. Would they throw themselves in the way of their precious creations, hoping to spare the inevitable? He didn't know, but he wanted to.

Next the Ptolemaios II would emerge in all of its glory, vibrant GN field radiating, Gundams shooting from it and tearing through the blackness of space. He knew them intimately, as though they were close friends. How? He didn't know. He just knew that he did. The big one would be blasting, keeping everyone away with its sheer strength, calculating the massive blasts as though it were run by a computer. The orange one would shoot through the battlefield with speed that betrayed the pilot's less-than-human ability to withstand the lethal force of gravity that he'd be experiencing. Who was he? Gallagher didn't know. A super-soldier, he knew that much. He didn't know how he knew, but he was certain of it. The blue one would steal the show, slashing and stabbing, getting right up in the other pilot's uptight little faces. 'Here I am, watch me destroy you' it would taunt. Gallagher liked that suit, it was fast and brutal, not bothering with mercy. It was clear that the pilot didn't enjoy killing, though. He was far too efficient to take any pleasure in his opponent's death. Finally, the green suit, the wild-card. Gallagher didn't know much about the gun-intensive suit. He couldn't find any indication in his head of who would be sitting in the cockpit…all he had were videos of it to go by. A sniper. It was equipped as a long-range suit, but the pilot showed impressive close-combat shooting. He wondered what the pilot's long-range skills were like. He wanted to test him, to force him into a corner and watch him shoot his way out. That suit would be his opponent, he decided. It was only fitting that the two snipers should play, wasn't it? It would be fun.

Amid all of the chaos that would be on the battlefield, Gallagher had one last treat to look forward to.

Reverie Traum.

She would be on-board Ptolemy.

That idea was incredibly interesting. He could have taken her out so easily at the banquet, but he had no interest in games like that. Not like the blue Gundam. He wanted to take his time…she needed to know that he was her opponent and that he was waiting for her, toying with her. He didn't want to destroy her yet. He wanted to wait until she began to toy with him, too. A match between telepaths and a match between snipers. If he had any interest in Christmas, he would have said it was today. He didn't though, and instead he sighed to himself, pulling off his mask and letting it hang in the weightless atmosphere. He examined it as it floated. Deep green ballistic fiber made up the majority of it, with impact-resistant green glass making up the space over his eyes.

Why did he wear it?

He'd thought of the question numerous times. He didn't wear it for any specific reason…he just always had. Always was a strange word though. It implied time, and he knew that the timeline of his life had been skewed. He knew that he had memories, but they were distant, unimportant images that floated here and there. They were nothing like the ones he saw from comrades, vivid details, smells, sounds, emotions.

He ran a gloved hand over his face. The skin of the right side of it ached with the pressure of his fingertips.

He'd been in an accident, they'd said. A battle that went horribly wrong. He'd been a dedicated AEU soldier then, and he'd acted with extreme courage and speed, or so the news article said. His mobile suit troop was under attack from a Gundam and he'd been shot down. Instead of laying back though, he'd climbed out of the damned mobile suit and stood on the ground, dragging the firing system with him and using his remaining energy to aim at the attacking suit, blasting it to pieces. Gundam Dynames. The one that had spearheaded his receiving of a license. Apparently he'd saved thirty-six lives.

He chuckled.

It sounded too good to be him.

He knew who he was, and he had no interest in heroics or saving lives. He knew that the memories and the story were fake, how could he not? There was no video evidence of the fight. No records, no pieces of the destroyed Gundam hidden away on a base somewhere.

He hadn't destroyed Dynames, but he knew it very well.

The same way that he knew the Gundam pilots very well. A gut reaction, almost like instinct but more certain. He knew them.

"Mission will commence in 00:33"

Colonel Mannequin's voice filled the cockpit and he slid back to a proper seated position, pulling his mask back on and pulling his distance targeting system down.

He loved the feel of the system against his shoulder. Originally it had been like those of the other suits, held securely in place by support arms. He didn't want that. He wanted to feel like he was holding his beloved rifle, and he did. The cool metal pressed to his cheek filled him with a sense of nostalgia that he couldn't place. He tested his scope and sat back, not needing to stand on high alert like the others. He'd sit here, patiently waiting for his opponent to launch. He wouldn't aim for him right away, no. He'd shoot past him, telling him that he was there and waiting. A taunt. The idea made him smile. He'd tease the sniper just as he'd tease Reverie Traum.

The missiles shot overhead and he felt his body flush with adrenaline. It was starting.

"Pseudo drives! I don't know how many!" Reverie yelled through clenched teeth, her nails digging viciously into the arms of her seat. There had to be a lot of them, her head felt like it was tearing down the middle.

"What's their location?" Marie's voice asked, coming through the speaker that linked both sides of the glass-separated room. They'd been getting used to the system when the pain had suddenly set in.

She didn't want to look at the screen. Her mind was fracturing and she didn't want to have to let the piercing lights of the room into her vision. She forced herself to open her eyes, slowly. The screen in front of her mapped out the area surrounding Ptolemy's position inside Lagrange Three. She snarled and tried to focus on the numbers indicated in the map but she couldn't see them. Her eyes were blurring over with tears and she couldn't focus on anything but making that damned pain stop!

She couldn't do that though.

"R…Right upper quadrant! Third satellite down!" she half-snapped, her teeth clamping together involuntarily after her relayed message. She slouched over, pressing her temples into her knees and gripped her head as though it would explode. She could hear herself crying, she could feel her lungs heaving, but tears couldn't express the overwhelming pain that the droning noise was creating. It hadn't been this bad since the Katharon incident when she'd been writhing and screaming on the ground.

"Ms. Sumeragi says there aren't any heat signatures there." Marie relayed, her voice somehow reaching through the droning.

-What should I do? She looks so horrible…-

"They're there!" Reverie snapped. If it wasn't for the seat-belt buckle that was too complex to open with clenched fists she would have been writhing on the ground. It was too much. There had to be at least a dozen suits. "Make it stop! It's too much! It's too much! Please make it stop! Make it stop!" she screamed, her throat hoarse. It had never been this bad. Ever.

"You want me to administer the morphine?" Marie asked. Reverie cursed herself for asking her to double-check before administering it. –God does she ever need it…-

"YES!" She yelled, then folded forward again, her body racking with sobs. She needed it to stop. She needed it to stop so bad that she'd do anything. "Please…"

Small, incredibly strong hands pulled her up, pulling a strap tightly around her chest and securing her arms to the seat. The forced sitting position made Reverie want to throw up but she couldn't draw a deep enough breath to make the effort. She felt Marie search for the vein in her arm, then heard her yelp as the ship shook with another missile hit. She didn't even feel the needle. Thank-God.

-Do the drives really hurt you that much, Reverie?-

Cold shock. She stopped snarling and looked up, staring at the screen.

That voice, Lyle's voice.

It was that man. Her eyes were so wide that she could feel the air hitting them, her lungs had forgotten how to breathe.

-Breathe, Reverie. I'd hate for you to pass out on me.-

She could hear him smirk. Confident, cruel, playful. She could almost see it under his mask. –Say my name, Reverie. I know you know it…- she heard him almost purr. She was too shocked and in too much pain to argue.

"Ailin…Gallagher?"

-Good girl. Now we're going to have a little fun.-

"Where are you, Cherudim Gundam?" Gallagher asked, watching the machines shoot out of the resource satellite. He'd picked the name out of one of the crew's minds, needing to put a label on his adversary. It was appropriate that he was waiting for Cherudim, he thought. It was the successor of Dynames, made to replace the sniper model that he'd supposedly destroyed four years prior. It made him wonder…

Was the pilot a replacement too?

He knew it wasn't the same one. The fighting style was too different from the style that the Dynames pilot had in the videos. Dynames' pilot had been calculated, calm, and the identified leader of the Gundams. This pilot was different. He was spontaneous, fast, and confrontational. He much preferred close-range shots that required an impressive amount of maneuvering to execute. The randomness of his attacks made Gallagher smile. He'd be hard to predict.

"There you are." He said, watching the green and white Gundam appear and take out a set of missiles that were headed for the personnel transports. He adjusted his head so he could see through the targeting system, watching the Gundam weave this-way and that. The pilot's sporadic motion would make it difficult to not hit him. It was interesting. He settled his cross-hairs for his teasing shot.

-What do you want with Cherudim?-

Reverie.

She was starting to pick through his mind. Apparently the morphine had worked and she could focus enough to spy on his thoughts. He wanted to play, that was all. Just a friendly game of 'kill me if you can'. The same think he wanted from her. Can't talk now, have a shot to make, sweetheart.

-Better make it a damn good one.- he heard her smirk. She placed a large amount of faith in the pilot, it seemed. –Of course I do. We just gave him your position.-

She'd done what?

-Are you having fun yet, Gallagher?-

As if on an invisible string, Cherudim turned to face him, pulling its distance rifle from its shoulder and aiming. His system yelled at him, telling him that he was set distinctly in the targets of the mobile suit. He couldn't move yet though, they still had ten seconds until he could reveal his heat signature. He laughed. So much fun. He raised the Gundam's rifle, watching with glee as Cherudim saw the motion and pulled the trigger.

He fired.

Cherudim spun out of the way milliseconds before the shot would have hit, Gallagher did the same, the searing heat of Cherudim's shot tearing through his heat-cloak.

Their struggle had begun.

"I'm fine!" Reverie insisted. She'd found Gallagher. He knew a surprising amount about the A-Laws tactical plan and she'd be damned if she let that information get away. "Really Marie, I'll be alright. I'm not in pain anymore. Besides, they could probably use your help with Hangar Three. You don't need to monitor me if I'm not in pain!" If she was being honest, she would have told Marie that she was one morphine drop away from passing out from sheer exhaustion, but that wouldn't help her cause.

"Alright." She released the straps that had been pressing Reverie to the seat, darting out of the room seconds later, pulling her protective helmet on. Reverie sealed the door shut, suddenly acutely aware that she wasn't wearing a space suit and that she'd be obliterated if the small room was hit.

She shook her head and took over at Marie's station. She pulled the spare ear-piece out of the air and slipped it into her ear, being linked to the bridge and Meisters. The touch-screen map of the battle area was in front of her and her fingers flew over the surface of it. "Ms. Sumeragi, I'm sending vital information. Marie has gone to hangar three."

"Send!" was the only response. Apparently Sumeragi needed an edge, badly.

She pulled at the screen here and there, quickly outlining what she was pulling out of Gallagher's mind. Six machines cloaked at this point, another hidden there. Two new models, pilots unknown. She updated the map with frightening speed, adding arrows here and there to indicate the hidden suits.

Finally, she added Gallagher's. Suit 14, as far as the plan was concerned.

"Ms. Sumeragi, please avoid destroying Suit 14, that's the one I'm pulling the information from." She couldn't believe she was making a request like that. Keeping Gallagher alive? She needed him, though. Not a single one of the other pilots had as much information as him, and if others did they were too far away or she couldn't hear them. His abilities matched with hers meant that they could connect over a much larger distance, it seemed.

"I can't guarantee that."

"I understand. If it has to be immobilized we should try to capture the pilot."

-I make a horrible pet, Reverie.-

God how she wished she could block him out. His mind was full of too many secrets though, and she wanted to get as many of them out of his head as possible. That meant she had to keep him talking.

-You don't have to 'keep' me talking, Reverie. I'm always willing to speak with you…-

"Why is that, Ailin?" She could see images here and there of the cockpit of his mobile suit, forecasting information spilling over one of the screens. She'd give one of her limbs to be able to access her Trans-Am abilities right then.

-First-name now? Isn't that a little fast, Karen? What are these Trans-Am abilities that you're thinking about?-

"Something you don't have." She quipped. She watched with nervous tension as Cherudim and Gallagher's arrows started to move towards one another. She knew that Lyle could hold his own, but she also knew that Gallagher could read his mind.

Lyle was thrown violently into his seat again by the sheer force of Cherudim's movements as he dodged another impeccably placed shot from the dark green and black suit that was hurtling towards him.

Who the hell was this guy?

How did he manage to get such an advanced suit?

"Lyle, be careful, he can hear your thoughts!"

Reverie? He didn't have time to ask how or why she was on the comms system. He had to trust that she was fine, because if he was distracted for a second he wouldn't be.

"Got it!"

He fired another round of shots from the GN rifle but the other pilot was fast, anticipating his moves and waiting until the last second to dodge. If he could hear his thoughts, that explained his uncanny ability to dodge at the last possible moment. "Just one shot to the thrusters, that's it. Just one." He muttered. He pushed his targeting system out of the way. It was useless with an opponent that moved this fast, and the other suit had just crossed the distance boundary of his long-ranged weaponry. He whipped the pistols from Cherudim's back just barely in time to catch the full force of the other suit's impact.

He whipped his other pistol around, barely missing the other suit's cameras and cursing when he realized that the suit had moved again.

"What's the matter, sniper dear? Am I moving a little fast?"

That voice.

Playful and masculine, full of amusement. His voice. The only reason he recognized it so clearly was because he'd listened to it for his whole life. There was one other person in the world who had the same voice as his. One other person who had died four years earlier.

"It's time to join your predecessor, Cherudim!"

What?

"Danger! Danger!" Haro yelped.

Lyle's eyes went wide with shock. Everything moved in slow-motion. He was surrounded. A suit to his left and one to his right, and the Pseudo-Gundam being held back only with his pistol. He'd become so preoccupied with the voice that he hadn't paid attention to the other suits.

He was outmatched.

A lightning-fast analysis of his predicament told him that there was no way he could take out all three suits. Especially when the one in front of him appeared to be a Gundam.

Barrels raised.

Then they exploded.

He whipped his other pistol around and fired into the cameras of the other suit. The resulting explosion told him he'd hit. The suit shot away.

Thank-god.

"Is that it, Lyle Dylandy? Is that really all you can do!?" The suit shot back around towards him, this time its cockpit was open, he could only assume the cameras were useless as he raised a pistol to take the suit out. It was faster.

Within seconds Lyle found himself staring down the barrel of the massive sniper rifle. He dodged and spun, twisting this-way and that to try and either lose the suit or shoot it, but neither was happening. The pilot was like a rabid dog, refusing to let go.

"Move! Move!" Haro yelled in protest as the sniper rifle's blast charged with them still in the cross-hairs.

He couldn't get away, the man was inside his head and inside his headset, laughing and taunting him with his own voice.

Then he was gone.

Lyle spun Cherudim around the second he realized that he wasn't being tailed by the maniac.

"Hahaha! Reverie Traum, is this a trick I didn't know about!?" His voice tore through the comms, the laugh gleefully sickening.

Lyle saw the cockpit close again and he realized that the suit had lost almost all of its power, the pseudo GN Drive barely spitting out any orange particles. It mustered up what seemed to be the last of its strength and shot away, presumably back to its mothership.

What had just happened?

"Enemy is withdrawing, Gundams are to uphold defensive positions."

Sumeragi's voice rang through Cherudim's comms. Was it really over just like that?

He had the sneaking suspicion that somehow, something big had just barely begun.

Bruns Muller stood awkwardly in the Asian market, bag in hand and a cap covering the majority of the large scar that ran along his scalp. He didn't know what the man looked like that he was meeting, but he knew that he'd be able to identify him somehow. For one, he wouldn't be a scruffy rebel.

Ever since the attack of Katharon's middle-eastern base he'd had the sense that he'd somehow chosen the wrong side. His first indication had been the fact that they were working with Celestial Being. He didn't particularly have anything against the organization per se, but he held quite the grudge against one of their members, his ever indignant, ever dangerous stepdaughter. It wasn't even a grudge really, he hated that girl. He didn't mind dealing with her younger brother, but dealing with her was like teasing a tiger. It would strike, you just never knew when or how.

His second indication had been that Katharon was losing. It wasn't hard to notice that they were underfunded, under-equipped, and they were working with increasingly out-dated weaponry. Without Celestial Being's help there was no way that the organization had a hope of changing anything. Bruns didn't enjoy fighting for hopeless causes.

The third indication was what had lead him here today. The A-Laws somehow knew who he was, and they'd threatened Andra, his ex-wife. That had marked the end of his loyalty to Katharon. While he may not have liked her daughter, he loved Andra. He didn't always show it, and he knew that he didn't deserve her, but he loved her fiercely. The A-Laws knew who she was and they'd threatened her. That was all that mattered to Bruns.

"Bruns Muller, I take it?"

"Gottverdammt!" He almost dropped his drink, he was so startled. The man was his height but lanky, almost rail-thin really. "Yes, I am." He said, not really sure how to offer his hands, which were full. The man shook his head and took the bag from his left hand, replacing it with the one that he'd been holding in his own hand.

"Everything you need is in that bag. The microphone just has to be in the same room, it doesn't have to be close to anyone. The box of pellets needs to be dropped on the ground. The pellets are nano-bots that will take in all necessary information. The money is yours, rolled and separated. They're non-sequential bills, not that it matters. No one will come looking for it."

Alright, maybe he wasn't only doing it for Andra.

Bruns nodded and the man turned and stalked away without another word, towering over the rest of the crowd and disappearing amidst the various vendors.

He looked at the bag in his hand.

This was it. He was going to betray Katharon.

Somehow he wasn't very bothered.

Tieria had never been so livid in his entire life. Well, almost never. He was very good at being livid, after-all. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose slowly, trying to contain his frustration.

"She did what?"

Reverie was sitting once again in the infirmary, this time dazed and confused and with hands bandaged and burned. At the rate that she spent time in the medical facility he would be better off reassigning her room to one of the new staff members that Ptolemy had picked up.

"It appears that Ms. Traum created a circuit with the wiring in the control panel of the new system that we've added to Ptolemy." Anew replied calmly. Apparently his anger didn't phase her. "The damage to her hands is easily repairable, and the effects on her mind should wear off within the next hour. Luckily the ship runs on GN Particle Energy and not standard electricity or she would have died."

Great. She'd basically electrocuted herself with GN particles. What new ways would the woman think of to possibly get herself killed? VEDA must have been wrong to recommend her. She was clearly intent on dying, whether on Earth or not. "Thank-you Anew Returner. I'll be back for a progress update shortly." He said, leaving the room and storming into the hall.

The woman needed constant supervision.

Constant.

Marie Parfacy couldn't be relied upon to make appropriate decisions concerning the woman, it seemed. She'd left for fifteen minutes to run Ian Vashti to sick bay and in that time Reverie had managed to get out of her restraints, short out the trial system, and electrocute herself.

A genius in the making, that one.

What had possessed her to do it? She hadn't been in pain, she'd already identified the enemies, and for all intents and purposes she'd completed her job. Why go to such an extent? What if she hadn't been able to recover? What if they'd lost her?

You're worried about her, Tieria.

"What!?" He was starting to be annoyed by the way Lockon's voice offered its own opinions. If he was human , he would have said that the one-eyed sniper had somehow become his conscience. There was no way he was worried about the apparently suicidal telepath. If she wanted to get herself killed, that was her business. It would just interfere with his data and he didn't appreciate that. That's what was going on. Not some kind of misplaced worry.

If you really are worried about your data, why haven't you looked at it yet?

He stopped.

He hadn't examined the data at all.

How had he missed that? He'd been in such a rush to see what kind of stupidity Reverie had involved herself in that he hadn't even opened the files from the battle. He whipped his data-drive from his pocket, activating it and watching the projected screen. The alterations to the plan were all there, as well as the damage reports for Ptolemy and the statuses of the Meisters.

He scrolled through the file, then stopped, then scrolled back up.

There it was.

Right before the enemy suits had withdrawn two of them experienced complete loss of power, and a third, one of the new models, had just barely enough power to leave the battle. He checked the timestamp of both the power shortage in Reverie's system and the death of the suits. Suddenly her stupidity didn't seem so stupid. She'd shocked herself to kill the suits.

And she'd had the data from the incident forwarded to him automatically.

A genius in the making.

He meant it this time. Not only had she shorted out three mobile suits, but she'd also saved them two weeks of testing the as-yet un-named system. That meant they could have it up and running in a matter of days. This meant they could test it within hours.

Maybe she wasn't suicidal after-all.

Bonus Mini Story!

Gallagher doesn't like Ali

After a hard-days' work, there was nothing Ailin Gallagher liked more than a glass of wine. Despite his sadistic, spontaneous, and maniacal general attitude, he liked to put his feet up on his Colonel's desk, pour a glass of wine, and watch the evening happenings of the base through the massive picture window of - not his - office. Right now, that was exactly what he was doing. The Colonel wouldn't be back until later, at which point she'd sigh and walk out if Gallagher was still there. Most people didn't question his actions or taunt him, regardless of rank. If the A-Laws operated above the law, then he operated above the A-Laws. Regene Regetta had seen to that.

He turned the bottle he was holding idly in his hand. It was one of the ones that Reverie had recommended to Homer Katagiri, and since that day Gallagher had been intrigued. What made this wine so worthy of recommendation from his adversary? He poured his glass and swirled the golden liquid, watching as thin tendrils of it stuck to the glass. He lifted it to his lips to breathe it in, tipped it back and-

"Colonel Mannequin, I presume?"

He lowered the glass, annoyance flaring after not being able to taste it. He slipped his feet off the desk and resumed what he imagined was a professional stance. If he couldn't sip his wine, he would at least toy with this newcomer. "And you are...?"

"Second-Lieutenant Gary Biaggi." he said, leisurely taking a seat across from him.

Gallagher held back a smile when he realized that the man was lying. Not to conceal anything, but to test the amount of information power that his supposed new Colonel had. "By all means, take a seat, Mr. Al-Saachez."

The name made him sick and he didn't know why. His stomach was clenched and his mood was shifting to silently burning fury for reasons he couldn't understand. He must have known this man before his memories were replaced, and he must have hated him. It was amusing. "Information is one of your strong points, then." the man mused. He looked every bit the middle-eastern mercenary that he mentally identified himself as. He was in a suit and marginally well-groomed, but his eyes burned with a mischievous intensity that Gallagher imagined his own had, if they were seen.

"You could say that." he replied. He lifted his glass to his lips idly and sniffed the wine again, this time intending to taste it.

"Are we going to drink wine or speak business?" the man asked, voice laced with a threat that hadn't been made. He was annoyed.

So was Gallagher. This was the second time that the man had interrupted his wine-tasting. "If I said we were going to drink wine first and talk business second, what would you respond with?" The golden liquid taunted him as it swirled in his glass.

The man grinned. "I'd ask for red, if you have it."

"Very well answered." Gallagher nodded. "Red it is, then."

He rose and pulled open the empty cabinet that he'd been stashing his wine in. He knew that Colonel Mannequin knew about it, she'd added her own items here and there. A bottle of expensive water, vanilla extract, and a tall bottle of balsamic vinaigrette. He reached for one of the bottles of red that he'd opened not too long ago, then stopped. Instead, he picked up the vinaigrette. This would be interesting. He poured the glass out of the man's view before replacing the bottle and closing it, handing the man the glass. If he had to have a pretend meeting with a man who was here to see the colonel, he'd at least get some entertainment from it. It was clear that he instinctively didn't like the man. Somehow that made him more eager to see the man drink the acidic liquid.

"Thank-you, Colonel." the man said. "Or should I say Captain?"

Gallagher stopped, then sat slowly at the desk again. "How did you come to that conclusion?" he asked, picking up his glass and watching the man.

"I too have access to information." he smirked. "Colonel Mannequin is female, you are not...unless you're hiding a surprise that I don't know about. No one but the Colonels have access to their offices, and I haven't heard of any masked colonels in the A-Laws. You could be a major, but you don't carry yourself like one. You carry yourself like someone who has unlimited power, which you most likely do. That leaves one option. You're a captain with a license to do whatever he pleases...like, say, drinking wine in his Colonel's office?" The man said, swirling his 'wine'.

The man was good, Gallagher had to admit. Being called out on his charade made him annoyed and angry, but it also intrigued him. "Well done." he replied. "In that case, you may as well leave and come back tomorrow. If the Colonel isn't here by now she most likely isn't coming."

The man nodded. "I assumed as much."

Gallagher didn't really hear him though, he was watching the man. Waiting was more accurate. Drink the wine... he silently commanded. As though on cue, the man brought the glass to his lips and tipped it back. He sipped, stopped, then finished the glass. He stood and set the empty glass on the table, tendrils of vinegar running down its edge. "Pleasure drinking with you, Captain." he said, mockingly tapping a finger to his brow in a casual salute. He left, leaving the door open.

Gallagher stared at the empty glass. He was infuriated. The man had played him, had robbed him of his satisfaction. He'd known what was in the glass and finished it anyways, presumably just for the fun of confounding the man who'd poured it. If he didn't have such an indescribable, innate hate for the man he'd just met he would have thought of him as an intriguing new friend. But he didn't.

The empty glass made him hate him more.

That was, until Gallagher heard the unmistakable sound of gagging and stomach contents hitting the ground outside. Seconds later he saw the redhead walk away, crossing the path of the floor-to-ceiling window.

Gallagher smiled, kicked up his feet, and finally sipped his glass of wine.

No wine had ever tasted so perfect in his life.

I hope you liked the bonus story! Let me know what you think!

Also, I'll be replying to inbox messages in a bit, ff isn't letting me see them :(

- Naishu