OZ: The Untold Story
By: Flame Angel Lee
The rain pounded mercilessly on her head. The black Mercedes convertible, with the roof that was stuck in the "down" position, had seemed like a blessing during the hot summer day, but that quickly turned to a curse when the day turned to night and she entered the mountainous terrain.
The cold wind whipped brutally through the car, waving her hair in the wind. Spotting an almost abandoned gas station at the very end of civilization, she turned into it, deciding to change and fill up before she attempted to enter the area.
Pulling up next to the self-service sign, she put the car in park and turned off the engine. Her almond shaped eyes flicked over the people who were there. An older man, around 65, middle aged woman, around 40-45, a younger boy of age 3, fast asleep on a hard plastic chair, and a young adult male, possibly 18-23. Nothing to worry about… she thought, reassuring herself.
None of them looked up from what they were doing to examine this new attractive looking, yet out of place, girl. She opened the door and stepped out, her white Nike's stirring up the dust on the ground. Her long, wavy, brown hair whipped in the wind. She nervously smoothed the white tube top and black pleather mini she had on. Her turquoise studded glasses slipped down her nose. Reaching into the backseat, she pulled out a small, black, leather overnight bag.
Sauntering over to the side of the building, she opened the bathroom door to the women's room. Closing and carefully locking the door, she headed over to the sinks and tossed the bag down.
As quickly as she could, she ripped of her shirt, skirt, shoes and wig. Putting on a black D-cup bra, and panties, she shook out her blonde streaked hair, and brushed it. Next, she dug through her bag and selected a black top that exposed her midrift, and a pair of denim flares. Kicking off the Nike's, she hurriedly pulled on a pair of thin black socks and black cowboy boots with studs. Lastly, she removed her glasses and curled two strands of her hair around her face.
Stuffing the clothes, cosmetics, wigs, curler and shoes into the bag, She dusted herself off and smoothed the makeup that made her look at least 3 years older than she really was. The downside to this disguise was that the old man and younger dude would most likely hit on her.
That was dangerous for her, especially if she was forced to expose herself in any way.
Narrowing her eyes, she pondered what could be missing. Then it hit her. Everyone she had seen had a cigarette, excluding the sleeping boy. She didn't care to smoke the specialty ones she normally did, at least not in this case, unless it was absolutely necessary to ensure her survival. So, she extracted a Virginia Slims from her bag and took a cigarette out. Placing it between her lips, she struck a match, holding it to the end, watching as the tobacco burned to life. Exhaling her relief, she left the bathroom.
As she passed the young man, he glanced at her and smiled. It was one of those smiles that was really more like a smirk, but it was friendly, not hostile or suggestive, as she feared. So, she smiled back, without dropping the cigarette.
When she reached her car, she tossed the bag into the backseat, and went to fill the gas tank. After that task was done, she flipped her hair behind her shoulder and walked up to the cashier to pay. The woman and little boy were gone. In their place was a young couple, they looked like they were freshmen in college, that were asking the older man who the mechanic was. He was trying to tell him that he was the mechanic.
Chuckling, she strode over to the counter and pretended to be interested in the various amounts of tobacco that were within ten feet of the cash register.
"May I help you?" a slightly swaggering voice said, startling her.
"Oh! Yes please. I'd like to pay for my gas. And can I get a pack of Malboro's?" she replied, smiling at the young man who she had seen outside.
"Sure thing." He said, grabbing a pack of smokes, and ringing up her gas. "So, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"
"Well, I'm going to visit some family. My eccentric old grandmother and crazy cousin love the private life. Me? I prefer the cities and-"
"Space." They said at the same time.
"Sorry, I haven't even told you my name yet. I'm Han. My dad, Jay, owns this place. What's your name?"
"My name is Mia. Nice to meet you Han. I'm glad that I saw this place. In the rain I almost missed it. Say, my cousin told me about an OZ base around here. Is that true?" she batted her eyelashes flirtatiously, leaning forward enough to grant him view of her clevage.
He took the bait, staring approvingly down her front, "Yeah. They say they've built the base as a test site for all kinds of things. That's where the first mobile suits were tested. One of the missiles from the suits was slightly off target, and wiped out the entire city."
"There was a city here?"
"Oh yes. Denver. Now all we have are the forests, mountains, and the ocean almost right in our laps. Damn shame it is. The erosion ate away all of the former West Coast in… 2025 AD. Well, that's how we got to being such a small town."
"Really? That is a shame. How high was the mortality?"
"80% of the city died instantly or within a week. 4% died of radiation poisoning after 10 years. It was all hushed up. We weren't given any money or anything. Hell, they didn't even acknowledge that they had killed people or even cared that they blew up our city. That was a decade ago, but my family was one of the lucky few of the town who were on vacation on the East Coast. My grandmother was killed instantly because she stayed behind."
"Oh my goodness. You poor thing!"
"Son, you should tell this lovely young lady how much her stuff is." A jolly voice boomed out, causing both our gal and Han to jump.
"Sweet Jesus, Dad! Don't do that! If you're still around when I'm 60, & you do that, you'll give me cardiac arrest!"
"That'll be 12.56 please ma'am. And if you don't stop smoking, you'll have more to worry about than me giving you cardiac arrest." The old man chuckled.
She paid him and shook both their hands good bye. On her way out, she heard them arguing about smoking and bombs. Smiling as she dropped her smokes in her bag, she hopped in the car and put it in neutral. Pressing the petal to the floor, she peeled out of there, the moon showing, and the rain gone.
Laughing at her cleverness, she peeled out down the highway, towards the ocean. Her turquoise eyes softened in pity for Han and his father, before they hardened over again. Mentally shaking herself, she told herself that she mustn't let her emotions get out of check. Not when she's so close to her goal.
The full moon gave the surrounding mountains and forests and unnatural ghostly glow. Damn, I'd hate to have to live here. The view is beautiful and all, but it must get lonely after awhile. She thought, turning sharply to avoid hitting a puma crossing the road. It's the second full moon we've had this month. A blue moon is a sign of luck, but not for my mission. Too bad it isn't a new moon. I need as much darkness as I can possibly get for my mission to be a success. Sighing, she pulled off onto a dense forest road.
Switching onto automatic mode, she allowed herself to think of her past, a topic she normally avoided if at all possible.
***
On November 21, at 11:40 PM, Flame Angel Lee, entered the world. She was told that she was a twin, but she wasn't completely sure she believed it, because she never remembered seeing her sister for most of her childhood. Granted, she suffered a serious concussion, but nonetheless…
She was a unique baby. She learned everything at an alarmingly fast pace. The doctors were baffled at her developmental state. They said if this kept up, she'd have her doctorate by the time she was twelve or so.
Her parents were proud, as all parents are, and the family lived happily in their home on the L2 colony.
Michael Evan Lee, Flame's father, was a very successful OZ officer. He was second in command of OZ, next only to Trieze. He was Trieze's right hand man, and boyhood friend. Michael's wife, Jennie Angela Khushrenada Lee, was Trieze's little sister. Jennie worked at OZ as Michael and Trieze's secretary, until Flame (and her twin, Pele) were born. After their birth, Mrs. Lee worked at home and helped Ah Kuhm, older sister, with her homework and boy problems. Ah Kuhm was 10 at Flame's birth and was a natural beauty.
The whole family lived happily until the day that Flame turned three. That day, Flame and her supposed twin sister, Pele Angel Lee, were out in the backyard, playing with their new dolls and miniature mobile suits at twelve in the afternoon.
This is the part were her memory gets fuzzy.
She remembers a man, no, two men, entering the grounds from the back gate, one man picking her up and the other picking Pele up. Then, for some reason or other, the man holding her got angry and threw her to the ground, where she hit her head. Right before she blacked out, she heard Pele screaming and saw the men racing to a gray vehicle.
She awoke, three weeks later in the hospital.
The doctors told her parents that she had a concussion and would most likely die due to the force at which she hit her head. Her parents had been tortured by ransoms, phone calls, e-mails and death threats from Pele's abductors. Their burden seemed to be shared by all at OZ and the local law enforcement officers.
After the ransom was paid, Pele's kidnappers informed the family that they enjoyed the extra pocket money and that Pele was safe, but it would be best for them all if Pele stayed with them. After that, they were never heard from again.
Three years later, OZ abducted Flame. She was taken on exactly the same day (and 12 hours) after Pele had been taken. Only this time, she was taken by the one man who she trusted more than her family, Trieze.
His croonies took her to an office sized holding room. After a few hours of sobbing, Trieze himself came into the room to check on her. Throwing herself at him, she lashed out in a violent rage, hitting, kicking, slapping and biting him. Screaming obscenities, she continued to sob and demanded that he tell her why he took her and what will happen to her. Telling her to calm down, he explained that he had a gift for her.
Her parents where lead in looking pale, terrified, and relieved that Trieze had "found" their second kidnapped daughter. She remembered screaming happily and running to hug her parents, the metallic click of a gun being cocked, her mother's shuddering breaths, her father asking Trieze what he was doing.
Then, she turned to her beloved uncle Trieze, at just the second he pulled the trigger of his .44 pistol. Her mother screamed with her as her father slumped against the door. Trieze aimed and fired again. Her mother fell back against her father, and their blood combined. She threw herself on her parents screaming and crying, and wondered if Uncie Trieze was going to shoot her next.
She was drenched in blood and through her tears, she looked at Trieze.
He smiled kindly at her and told her that he would be back to explain to her why this was done in the morning. He left the room, taking all the guards with him and left her alone, with her parent's bodies.
***
Gasping at how powerful her thoughts were, she swerved over to the edge of the road and slammed on the brakes.
After a few minutes, she had calmed down enough to think rationally. She decided that if she had already stopped, she might as well change into her other outfit. Pulling on a strait black mid back length wig, white tank midrift, and brown leather boots, she then proceeded to drive toward the base.
When she was within a quarter of a mile to the fence, she stopped the car, hid it in some bushes, and got all the guns, ammo, and started out on foot for the base. Now was the time where all of her senses were in top shape. Even her sixth sense for danger was working more than ever. She kept in the security of the bushes and trees, to stay out of detection of the dogs that would inevitably be patrolling the grounds. After a few silent minutes, she reached the fence. Deciding it would be best to wait for a patrol to come around so she could know that she wouldn't be discovered for very long, she sat back on her heels and waited.
After nearly a half-hour of waiting, she tensed, and strained to hear any sounds. Sure enough, a large patrol complete with guard dogs, machine guns, and various capture creations. Good Lord! They even had a slightly miniaturized version of a Libra mobile suit!
Jeez! How will I ever get past this? If they have a battalion this large, then they must come once every hour or so. she thought, her eyes darting around surveying the woods.
She gave the patrol fifteen minutes to get over two or three miles away from her. Making sure her weapons, ammo, and detonators were where they should be, she stood and dashed for the fence. When she reached the fence, she abruptly stopped.
Stooping down, she picked up a stick and chucked it into the fence. When it hit without causing an electric buzz, or bursting into flames, she nodded and pulled on her brown leather biker gloves. Quietly and quickly, she shimmied over the fence and landed cat-like on the other side. Glancing around, furtively, she crouched low to the ground and sprinted across the compound to a nearby facility.
Pressing her back flat up against the wall, she looked around her. Satisfied that no one was near her to interrupt what she was going to do next. Sidling over to the door, she pulled out a restricted area personnel badge and typed in the code. The door opened and she slipped in unnoticed. Closing the door a way that she knew well as to a way to signify a lowly guard was entering or exiting, and not known to attract attention, she crept forwards. Pulling a gun out, she held it in front of her in the way that the FBI agents used to hold their guns, before the colonies were created and OZ disbanded the Earth government. She crept to the control room.
She knew where everything was. She had been here numerous times before in her youth.
***
After Uncie Trieze explained to her that he killed her parents because they had tried to harm him, he told her that he would need her to work and stay here at the OZ base on L2 so that she could be trained and taught all about being a pilot. She agreed, very reluctantly, because she had no other option. Because she was joining the recruits of OZ, she needed to undergo all the same hazing traditions that the others went through. The youngest person aside from her was 16 years old.
The hazing started with a tattoo. She, at six years old, went through with it, and got her first name tattooed on her neckline/right chest area. The next activity was a binge drinking competition. It was the first time she had ever drunken any form of alcohol, and she was induced by drinking whiskey and tequila combined. She eventually collapsed, after drinking 14 shots.
She was the fastest learner that her instructors had ever seen. Trieze decided that she would be a good tester for new mobile suits. He also developed a new idea for OZ's secret weapon. She would be trained as a gundam pilot. They were nearly undetectable, only she would be impossible to detect, even by the best gundam pilot foolish enough to cross OZ's path.
Trieze brought or sent her to Earth to test the new models and hone her concentration and reaction skills. That one base was shown to her on her first visit. She was taken all over the base and got to spend time working in the control room, ordering the peons in the mobile suits on their new tactics and formations of attack. She also taught strategies that she developed to the head honchos of the military.
Many of those strategies would later be used to attack the colonies and take over Earth.
On one of her visits, almost ten years ago, she went to the base on basis for test flying a brand new mobile suit, the Pisces. The take off and defense weaponry worked perfectly. However, when she went to test fire the beam cannon, something went awry.
It wasn't bolted or pieced together properly, and flew off. She crashed into the open field and a faulty wiring in the cockpit turned on a self-detonation device. The pieces that flew off crashed into a nearby wood and a misguided missile hit a city called Denver. 80% of the city's population died instantly and 4% were diagnosed with radiation poisoning.
OZ kept it under wraps. Their, more correctly, Trieze's, biggest concern was her. She crawled out of the wreckage moments before it blew up. She was incapacitated with a broken leg, broken arm, cracked rib and numerous cuts and bruises, as well as a mild concussion. She kept up on her physical therapy and was able to go back to flying and working on her gundam, DeathAngel, named by Trieze, after a few months.
***
She remembered exactly where the control room was, where and what all the controls were. Hurrying down the hallway, she stopped at each doorway to check for people coming towards her. She narrowly avoided being caught by a new, wandering control room operator.
She disposed of him with a quick, mean right hook to the jaw. Stealing his lab coat, she put it on. Under the disguise she had put on earlier, nobody would recognize her, much less know that she had previously, and presently, worked there.
After she typed in the code, and the door opened, she walked nonchalantly into the room. There were only about 6 control room workers in the main and sub control rooms. They must finally be less strict and more laid-back about security after 20 years. she thought.
Removing the lab coat and pulling two Uzi's from her pocket, she prepared to open silenced fire on the workers. When she was about to begin, her ears heard footsteps approaching. She swung her head over her left shoulder. Teeth bared and eyes narrowed in hate, she glared at the intruder. The young man stopped walking mid step. He smiled nervously and sweat dropped.
"Who the hell are you?" she hissed, quietly, so as not to be overheard.
"I… I… might inquire the same of you." He answered, eyes darting around for a weapon.
"Why are you here?" glared the girl.
"Same as you. To overthrow OZ."
"That's not why I'm here."
"To kill Trieze?"
"That's next."
"Weird chick."
"Shut up and leave."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"I don't have time for toddler games!" she exhaled quietly, and swung her gun up to the young man's forehead.
"Don't shoot." He said, closing his eyes.
"Why not?"
"I'll help you."
"There's a proposal I…"
"Can't refuse. I knew you'd come around." He said, pulling an uzi out of her hand. "By the way, name's Maxwell. Duo Maxwell. I always wanted to do that."
She looked at him and made a face. "Don't get out much, do you?"
He shook his head. "Not really. I basically try to save the colonies from OZ."
"You're a Gundam pilot, aren't you?"
"Whoops. Heero'd have my head for lettin' it slip. Oh well, tough shit. So, are we gonna kick ass or what?"
"I'm gonna 'kick ass' while you go to sleep."
"Go to sleep? Whaddaya mean by…" he started to ask, but hit the ground, asleep from the tranquilizer dart she shot into his leg.
"Sleep my friend, sleep. Mommy's got a lot of work to do."
*~*~*
Ha! I edited my fic!
*does the booty shaking happy dance of George Lowe*
Well, I'm off to upload this chapter, redo the second and so forth until I'm up to the twelfth chapter of editing, so I can be caught up.
My writing style changed drastically since I first wrote it, so it suddenly branched into this less Mary-Sue approach into this sort of Gothic and angst-y style. Hope you enjoy.
33333333333 Flame