Chapter 3: Ironcross Charles A. Costello Normal Charles A. Costello 2 92 2001-10-23T02:00:00Z 2001-10-23T02:00:00Z 5 1290 7356 61 14 9033 9.2720

Chapter 3: Ironcross

            I woke the next morning staring up at the ceiling about my bed. Geez, what a day yesterday was. And what a day today will be.

            I got up and showered to wake myself up and dressed in some yuppie business attire Quatre had bought for me. I put on my glasses and couldn't help but snicker to myself.

            "Good morning," I pathetically said to my reflection in the mirror, "My name is Angelica Darlian, Vice Foreign Minister of the United World Nation. Please call me Ang for short." God do I know how to make an ass of myself.

            I went outside to the porch where Quatre wished for me to meet him for breakfast.

            "Good morning, Angelica." He said, standing up from the table, "I must say that you look fantastic in that new outfit of yours."

            "Thank you." I said softly.

            He walked over and pulled my chair out for me. I took my seat and he followed suit.

            "Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to be with me." I said.

            "Aw, it's nothing really, the least I could do." He poured me some tea and passed me a basket of rolls.

            "Where do you think the best place to start looking is?" I asked.

            "Good question." Quatre sighed, "Did you check out anything in the L1 system?"

            "Only a few colonies." I replied, "Not enough to get a decent lead."

            "Hmm," Quatre nodded as a messenger came in and handed him an envelope.

            "Thank you." He said as he looked up at the messenger.

            The messenger looked to be maybe 15 at the most; he wore a dark blue uniform and a hat with a rather ornate variation of the Cross of Malta for an insignia. Hair covered one eye as the other deep green one closed with a small head nod as he left.

            Quatre blinked a few times, "Amazing, that boy looks incredibly like Trowa did about 25 years ago." He slowly opened the envelope and pulled the letter out from inside. He read it silently then dropped it on the table.

            "What is it?" I asked, "Problems at work?"

            Quatre shook his head then read aloud, "Tell her highness that the dance begins again. Signed, I.C.O."

            I stood up, "Oh God, somebody is after me."

            Quatre stood up, "I don't think they are after you or your mother for that matter."

            "Then?"

            He shook his head, "My best guess would be…"

            "FREEZE!" In a matter of seconds the porch was surrounded by troops wearing the same uniform the messenger was, guns pointed at both of us.

            I screamed and almost ate a gun barrel because of it.

            "Just do what they say." Quatre said calmly, "And put your hands on your head."

            I obeyed and surveyed the scene. Every single boy looked exactly the same, as if they were clones.

            "Oh my God…" I heard Quatre mutter out, "He really did it, that sick twisted man."

            I stared down the pair of green eyes in front of me, remembering Trowa's from the night before.

            "Trowa?" I whispered.

            Every single boy here was a clone, a copy of the actual Trowa Barton. The build, the eyes, the hair, everything was the same!

            "You are correct." A man came out from the house, "These are all clones of Trowa Barton, as so am I, but I do not go by that name."

            He was older, not as old as the real Trowa, more my age, but older than the others.

            "I am known as TB Squad Leader 1. Most of the men call me T1. We represent the Ironcross Organization. A new military organization striving for colonial freedom."

            "Can't you think of anything new to do?" I asked, and then yelped as I felt the tip of a gun press into my spine.

            The so-called T1 approached me; "I have my orders to escort both you and Mr. Winner to our base, Miss Khushrenada."

            "Khushrenada?" My eyes widened, "I am not Mariemeia Khushrenada, the name I bare is far more prestigious."

            "No…"Quatre hissed at me.

            "Then if you are not Mariemeia Khushrenada, where is she? And who are you?"

            "I…" Shit, who am I?" Darlian, Yuy, Peacecraft…I went with, "Yuy, Fallon Yuy."

            "Yuy is a name I am not familiar with or have been ordered to deal with." T1 stated, "You are expendable."

            Quatre jumped, "Expendable?!"

            They were going to kill me, for no reason at all. What is this? Why are the taking Quatre and why did they want Mariemeia? I can't let this happen to them.

            The gun barrel in my back vibrated with the click from the hammer being pulled back.

            "Damnit! My last name is Darlian!" I cried our almost subconsciously, "I am the daughter of Relena Darlian." I looked up at the clone, "Also known as Relena Peacecraft."

            The gun barrel was removed from my back and my hand were pulled down and cuffed.

            T1 smirked, "Now that name I know."

            "Angelica!" Quatre glared at me with wide turquoise eyes.

            "I'm sorry." I murmured, "I had no choice." I closed my eyes and felt a hot tear streamed down.

* * * * *

            Once again I ended up in jail for saying my name. I really give up.

            Two guards came and escorted Quatre and I into a large office. I wasn't entire sure, but I felt as if we didn't even leave the colony we were on while we were locked in that shuttle for so long.

            A man sat at a huge oak desk in the center of the room. When he saw us, he stood up and walked toward the guards with us.

            "You may leave" The man said to them.

            They obeyed and we were left in the room with the strange man.

            He was dressed in rather un-dictator like clothing, or military at all. Just a gray t-shirt and a pair of faded black pants. He was also very attractive in my taste, and no more than 25 years old. He looked at us both with a pair of cold gray eyes.

            "Well, well. I never thought to score both a Winner and a Peacecraft in one raid." He chucked lightly to himself, "We all should party more often."

            "Stahr," Quatre growled, "You are a sick excuse for a man."

            The man referred to as Stahr paid no attention to Quatre's remark, but rather eyed me closely, somewhat too closely.

            I looked up and glared at him coldly.

            He just replied with a short laugh, then, "I won't touch on the first date, Miss." He walked behind me slowly which made me feel terribly uncomfortable, then he came back to my view and raised his hand slightly.

            "You don't need to be wearing those."

            I felt the cuffs snap off of my wrists suddenly. I pulled my arms forward and rubbed my chaffed wrists, shocked over his abilities.

            "Allow me." He said, gently taking my hands in his and caressing my wrists softly as he kissed my hands.

            I heard Quatre growl and I stepped away from his grasp.

            "Who are you?" I nearly sneered.

            "I'm sorry, I have been rude, haven't I?" He said, "I am Stahr Ironcross, the leader of this organization."

            He turned his back on me and walked back toward his desk, "You're name is Fallon Angelica Darlian, though you prefer to be called Angelica or even more casually Ang. You are 23 years old, your birth date is September 20th, AC297."

            Stahr pivoted when he reached his desk then walked back toward me, "You ran away from home at age 18 because you were mad at your mother, so you began a search for your father."

            He stopped right in front of me, "Leading up to the present anyway. Shall I share more of your life?"

            I was too shocked to even speak. He read my mind, my memories and thoughts were no long a secret.

            "Hmm, I love making women speechless." Stahr smirked.

            I looked away from his eyes.

            Quatre spoke up, "Now that you've scared the poor girl, tell us why we are here."

            "Well," Stahr began as he paced, "As you know, the Ironcross Organization is the head of most genetic research as a whole. We work strictly with unusual abilities that humans have, such as telepathy, telekinesis, exceptional speed and reflexes, etc."   

            Quatre turned to me, "He fed himself strains of DNA to get his powers. He was not born with them."

            "That is correct, Mr. Winner." Stahr walked back over and circled us, "But because some of our research was considered unethical by most within the UWN, we sought to break away."

            "Nothing new in the history books." I mumbled.

            "If I may continue, Miss Darlian." Stahr glared at me with his gray eyes.

            I narrowed my blue ones right back at him.

            "Now, Mr. Winner," Stahr turned to Quatre, "Since you are already familiar with this program, I'm sure you know what I desire from you."

            "Forget it, Stahr." Quatre snapped, "You will never get my blood to create your genetically engineered army."

            "Hmph." Stahr huffed and turned back to me, "And you, Miss Darlian, since I was unable to obtain Miss Khushrenada to be the public speaker for my little institution, I figure that a Peacecraft descendant could do just as well."

            "You want me to promote you?" I jumped, "Promote this disgusting act of breached ethics? This is an incredible crime and has been for hundreds of years! How did you obtain the blood of Trowa Barton for this? How could he…"
            Stahr put his finger over my lips, "I didn't just get his blood." He whispered, "I'd like you to meet someone.

            A door opened out of the corner of my eye.

            "Someone you've been dying to meet…"

            "Oh my God…" I backed away from Stahr and fell eye to eye with the face of my father.