Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or its charactors. Those are copyright of Sunrise, Bandai and Sotsu Agency and their respective creators Yoshiyuki Tomino and Hajime Yatate. I DO, however, own the charactors and world of Executioner Nightheart (which is where I got my author name from). Hear that? They're mine! Mine I say! Copyright to ME! You can't have them!
This story is written in answer to the following challenge issued by Silent Pegasus.
"I challenge you to write a fanfic with a mysterious girl to come in and help them out but she can't have a gundam she can't be anyone's long lost sibling and she can't become anyone's girlfriend. She is just gonna be an awesome ally."
I know what you're all thinking…
'Why hello Mary Sue!' She's not a Mary Sue, I promise! In fact, she was already a well-defined character before I'd ever even heard of or started watching Gundam Wing. So any similarities between Nightheart and some of the characters are genuinely coincidental. But, that doesn't mean I can't have fun with it all the same.
In answer to the challenge I decided I'd do a crossover with a series I'd worked on and fleshed out before I ever started watching Gundam Wing. In fact, I liked my main character's name so much I stole it for my own use as an authors name, so if any of you were ever curious about why I picked the name Nightheart…there it is. She's just going to pop into their world, do what she came to do, and go home, but in the interim she should hopefully be "An awesome ally."
So without much more fanfare or further ado, I invite you to relax, maybe pull out some candy, popcorn and a soda, and enjoy this segueing of talents as I momentarily merge my own work with the vision of another creators'.
* * * * *
The sky slowly metamorphed from the pitch dark of full night to the twilight heralding the dawn. In the alley way a small rodent scampered back to the protection offered by the trash bin. There were the soggy remains of old cardboard boxes and newspapers. Puddles of grime danced with the reflected lights of a cheap holo-sign, it was much like any other back alley that Hunter had ever seen in his life, and he'd seen a lot of them.
He looked around once more, all of his senses sharp. He may have grown up traversing dangerous back-alleys like these, but that didn't mean he still couldn't get knifed in the dark for being careless. Then Nightheart would never let him hear the end of it.
Hunter Kylaran suppressed a yawn at the sight of twilight lightening the sky from darkness to daylight. She would be back very soon now.
Sure enough, from the shadows, silent as a shadow herself, emerged Nightheart, the Executioner of Nightsiders.
"Good morning," said Hunter cheerfully. "I take it that you were successful?"
"I completed the assignment. Nightsider 8477 has been terminated."
The same familiar darkness haunted her eyes, the residue of death and pain leftover from the nights work. Those who said that eyes were the windows to the soul had never seen Executioner Nightheart's eyes. Hers were two chips of obsidian, two dark voids where secrets fell into and never came out again. But still, there was pain there. Old pain. New pain. Perhaps by now it was all the same to her.
"You should get some rest," he told her.
"But I can tell by that tone in your voice that I won't be," she said flatly. "I take it that President Takahashi has a new assignment for me."
"Yes, but this one's going to be…a little bit out of the way," Hunter said, scratching the back of his neck and turning to fall in step beside her as she walked back to their ship. She glanced sharply at him.
"How far out?" she asked suspiciously.
"I can't explain it to you here," Hunter said, gesturing around him and giving her a look that said top secret stuff. "The night has eyes and ears you know."
"Yes. We should be on our way then."
Nightheart didn't let any of her resignation slip into her voice. Hunter clicked the remote beacon to summon the skimmer he had waiting and the two of them climbed in for the short ride to the port. Hunter was in the drivers seat, he always was; the Executioner might be hot stuff when it came to hunting down and killing Assassins, but she was lousy at anything having to do with machines. A quick flash of their badges at the front gate let them enter the secured area where their shuttle for planetfall waited. They clipped themselves into the shuttle harnesses in either seat of the small cockpit and Hunter ran through the launch poceedures for exiting planetary gravity with practiced ease. They were shortly in the air and exiting the starosphere on course for the nearby Habbie Plat. A few minutes after that Hunter docked their shuttle with its parent with the ship the Artemis that was docked in the bay of the orbiting Habitations Platform.
Their ship was a standard Guardian issue vessel, a Salamander-class fighter. Salamanders were amphibious, and so was this ship, after a fashion. It was primarily a space going vessel, equipped for speed and maneuverability in the zero gravity of the vacuum. But the cockpit could be sealed off and detached from the rest of the ship and deployed as a shuttle for planetfall.
"This is the Alliance Fighter Artemis serial number 03796124 checking in with base," Hunter said as the cruiser departed for Terra-Dome and the Alliance Headquarters stationed in New Geneva.
"This is Base, we read you. What is the status of the mission?" an anonymous voice over the com-channel requested in the bored tones of someone who had been through that spleel too many times to count.
"Subject terminated," said Nightheart bluntly.
"That's one less Nightsider to steal the lives of innocents," Hunter added in from his place in the cockpit. "We're returning into base for debriefing. This one gave us both a run for our money, I thought she'd never get him!"
"But we know you better than that Executioner, you always get 'em," said the voice on the other end wryly.
Nightheart switched off the comm, and hit the lights, frowning in remembered pain.
"Yeah," she agreed morosely into the silence. "I do."
"Hey, you okay?" asked Hunter. His Austrailio-British accent breaking softly into the silence.
"I'm fine," she growled. Then firmly shut her eyes.
Hunter said nothing more. Nightheart was always moody after an assignment. Well, scratch that, she was moody all of the time. She had been for much of the time he'd known her. Hunter merely piloted in silence, letting her brood to her hearts content. Lord knew she would anyway.
He'd been partnered with Nightheart by President Takahashi back when she'd first been commissioned as the Executioner. He was a Guardian, an elite fighting force, politically neutral, that patrolled the wilder parts of space watching and listening for trouble. The Guardians were part police force, part circuit judge, part mediator, part spy, part communications channel and part…whatever else the moment required. Normally such a system would be ripe for the corrupting for the group answered only to the President and to each other, but it had been around for five hundred years and was still as idealistic as the day it was founded. Hunter himself believed completely in the cause he fought for, ready and willing to give his life to see that the Alliance upheld its ideals and oaths.
And it was for this reason that he was the one assigned to "keep and eye on Nightheart" make sure she didn't do anything the Alliance might object to, make sure she didn't go berserk or suddenly switch sides.
Sometimes, it was a pain…Nightheart was proud, taciturn, moody and convinced that having a Normal tagging along with her on her missions was a liability. She constantly told him he'd be better off sticking at HQ, that he'd only get in her way, that he'd distract her and give her targets a hostage to use against her. Hunter cheerfully ignored her.
They'd been traveling together, on and off, for several years now. Even Nightheart would have to admit that it was more than duty that kept the two of them traveling together. One, he had been assigned to monitor her activities, and two…she was his friend. As much as a person like Nightheart could be said to have friends that was. He'd known her for a few years before he'd ever joined the Guardians and he knew that he was one of the only, if the only person she'd trust enough to let near her. Whatever else her faults, it could not be said that she wasn't loyal. Nightheart was feircely loyal and feircely protective of anyone she considered her own. And she would walk through fire, death, Hell and torture without blinking if any of them were in any danger. And Nightheart vengeances were a real bitch! He'd seen that for himself. He'd almost felt sorry for the last life-sucking parasite that had pissed her off.
"What do you think the President's new assignment is going to be?" she surprised him by asking suddenly into the silence that had engulfed the cockpit. "I mean, aside of sending me out to kill people, that is." Hunter caught the caustic edge in her voice.
"I haven't the faintest," he said mildly. "Is…is there something you wanted to talk to me about?"
There was silence for a few minutes, and Hunter thought she'd simply closed herself off again (like usual) when she again surprised him by answering.
"I've got a funny feeling about this new assignment Hunter. It's not like the President to order us back to base for a debriefing. He almost always simply forwards the assignments to us out in the field and lets us go to it. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I've been issued an Execution Mandate from the HQ. I think something strange is going to happen, but," she said with a shrug. "If it is, there's not much we can do about it now. We'll just have to wait and see how events play out."
"Ah yes. My partner, the warrior stoic," he said with a wry grin.
"Given my position, it would not be beneficial to be anything else. I certainly can't bring myself to be eternally cheerful…unlike some people I could mention."
"Admit it, you adore me anyway," he teased. He loved teasing her, Nightheart was always so serious, she needed someone to lighten her up and get her to see that not everything was a matter of life and death. Even when she was off-assignment, on one of the short medical vacations that the Doc insisted she take regularly, there was an air of solemnity about her. Hunter guessed it was probably the past she refused to talk about. Oh, every once in a while she'd let slip a few details, and once or twice Hunter had gotten her to speak with him openly, but for the most part Nightheart didn't like to talk about her life before the two of them had met up.
"You go right on thinking that," she said crossing her arms to get some sleep. "Wake me when we get there."
"Yes my liege. Is a pleasuh workin' foh ya massah Nightheart suh!" he replied to her abrupt manner. "How else might I serve you Queen Pharuke!"
"Pilot silently. And barbecue me a heifer."
Hunter chuckled as Nightheart grinned slightly to show it was a joke. Sometimes by her tone it was hard to tell if she was serious or joking in her dry manner.
"Sleep well, you get little enough of it as it is."
Yes, he knew very well that Nightsiders required much less sleep than the average Human, a fact which Nightheart liked to remind him of frequently. But still, she had been four days moving non-stop trying to track down her target; even she had to be feeling the strain. Not that she would ever show it, Nightheart was too proud.
"I'll be in a light Healing Trance," she informed him. "I grew overconfident on this mission, my side has been slit at the rib cage. It's only a flesh wound, I'll be able to have my body fully healed by the time we reach orbit. My Symbiont has taken care of the worst of it already."
"Right. Well, I'll see you in four hours then."
Nightheart said nothing further and sat back in her chair to Trance herself. There were times that Hunter wished he'd been bonded with a Symbiont, the non-corporeal energy form that turned one from a mere Human into a Nightsider. For one thing, the self-healing abilities granted by a Symbiont were second to none, then there was the added unnatural strength, speed, stamina and agility as well as the enhanced perceptive capabilities. But then he remembered the price Nightheart paid for her bonding and was heartily glad he was a Mundane.
…
"Nightheart, we're there," he said shaking her gently awake. The bulk of the cruiser had been left up at space dock and the detachable shuttle had made planetfall. They had arrived swiftly to Headquarters.
Nightheart came into full alertness from a dead sleep. It still unnerved Hunter that she was able to do that, even after all of this time.
She nodded silently and unclipped herself from the harness with practiced ease. She no longer fumbled with the straps as something alien and unfamiliar to her. Whatever place she had come form that she still refused to talk about, Hunter could tell they didn't have things like shuttle harnesses. That argued for it being one of the low-tech colony-worlds, the ones who had wanted to get away from the high-tech insanity of Earth and lead simple lives off the land. Hunter didn't really see the appeal himself, of course, he was a real techie-buff. If it could be flown, hacked or accessed, Hunter knew something about it. He'd spent his youth as a rebel-terrorist and jack-of-all-trades for the Telepath Resistence under the tutelage of his mother, Zulina. She had died in a raid on the Committee, the government force that controlled the activities of Telepaths a few years back. That in turn had been the catalyst that had lead Hunter to go from wandering space pirate to selfless do-gooder (a choice Nightheart still didn't fully understand) and join up with the Guardians, a collection of warriors dedicated to watching the watchmen and protecting the peace, and the Alliance of Terra-Dome, Mars and Space Nation. Nightheart herself wasn't precisely part of the Gaurdians, although by the nature of her job she worked closely with them.
"I hope that I'll be allowed to freshen up a little bit before this debriefing," she grumbled.
Now that Hunter looked at her she was indeed a mess. Her black working-uniform was covered in blood-splatter, she had what looked like a piece of entrail hanging from her left shoulder tab, as well as some other liquid probably best left unidentified squelching from her boots.
"Ah! There you are Miss Nightheart!" called one of the HQ servants, a message runner and an attendee to the Quarters followed a half step behind. Hunter did a double take. Despite her young age, Nightheart was no more a "miss" than he was. Titles of "miss" belonged to innocent young women, like heiress Delia Elderdourne. Completely aside of that, no one ever called the Executioner by her first name without a qualification. Hunter was the single exception to that rule. Hunter was the single exception to a lot of her rules.
"That's Executioner to you," she grumbled at the man in irritation. "What is it?"
"You need to clean yourself up; the President needs to see you in his office quickly. I have taken the liberty of laying out your dress uniform."
"Oh have you now," she growled, and edge of menace in her voice. Nightheart disliked anyone (and that meant anyone) invading her personal space. Even Hunter, who had known her the longest, was only allowed in so far. "And what, precisely, made you think you could simply waltz into my private quarters and lay hands on my clothes?"
Here she let a tiny hint of her Nightsider Assassin's powers leak out to the perceptible level, making the air seem to crackle with her displeasure. As an intimidation tactic, it was a good one. The plump little man was cowering in fright, even though Nightheart was shorter and slighter than he. She had a certain reputation, not completely unwarranted, as a merciless warrior-killer. On occasion she was not above using it to put the fear of HER back into the general populace.
The little man squealed and ran back down the hall, yelling an apology over his shoulder.
"Nightheart," he chided. "That wasn't very nice. You shouldn't go around intimidating people for just doing their job."
"Who me? Intimidate? Nahhh," she said with a rare mischievous grin. Then with a wink and a chuck of her tongue in Hunters direction, she turned to Quartermaster and said "Now. Where's my shower?"
The Quatermaster, long accustomed to Nightheart's peculiarities, gestured her down the hall to the quarters that she'd had assigned to her when she first took up her position as Nightsider Executioner. A room she had not seen in over four months. Hunter found his own bunk and lock-box for a fresh change of uniform, and a shower in the stalls.
Twenty minutes later, Nightheart, showered, hair braided and coiled up out of her way, and in a neat, pristine white dress-uniform met Hunter on his own way to the Presidents office. After so long a time of association, they had each others habits and routines timed down to a nicety.
"I still don't see why your people make me wear this ridiculous thing to formal meetings," she said, scowling and reaching under her dress jacket the tug down her shirt. She did that frequently when she wore the dress uniform designed for her.
Nightheart's Dress Uniform was a stark pristine white, and she detested it. The wardrobe specialists had felt that using white for the formal uniform would send a subconscious impression of purity and good-intent. Nightheart just thought that the thing washed out her complexion and made her stand out. She also felt that the cut constricted her movement. The jacket was modeled after a military dress jacket complete with the shoulder tabs and the sleeve cuts that didn't allow her to raise her arms above perpendicular to her body without ripping open the back seam. Not only that, she'd once muttered, but the shirt that went under it was forever bunching up around her breast area and wrinkling where people could see it forcing her to keep tugging it down to get it straight. Then there was the tie… A thing, she claimed, that had a life and intentions of it's own as it continually seemed to keep tightening itself around her throat. The shoes were shiny white pumps, which she also disliked as being impractical and preventing her from a getting a good speed to her run. About the only thing she did like about the entire uniform were the pants, which, she had to admit, fit perfectly.
"I detest this uncomfortable thing. It never fits right."
"Then maybe you should quit grumping about it and stand through another sitting," Hunter teased, and had the satisfaction of seeing Nightheart pale a little and say quickly
"No! Ancestors Blood no! I only have to wear it once in a while, I think I can mange."
Hunter chuckled. His own dress uniform wasn't too bad; a dark charcoal grey cloak pinned to the epaulettes and layered to fall in folds. A matching dark long-sleeved shirt with silver cuffs and a silver trimmed high-necked collar went under a dark grey over-tunic that had a central front panel of lighter grey trimmed in silver braiding. The panel closed at the side by a hidden zipper with a frog-and-toggle clasp near the left shoulder for show. His pin adorned the right corner of the front panel and an ornately buckled belt held his single sidearm that went with the dress uniform. It was far more comfortable than Nighthearts uniform and allowed much more freedom of movement for him. Hunter thought he looked quite striking in it.
One of the guards outside the president's office walked in to announce them.
"Come in," said the President of the Alliance softly. He was a young-looking Asian man who's sparkling dark eyes and ageless face hid many a necessary secret. Even so, Nightheart unbent enough to incline her head in his direction out of respect for him and the position he held. Even as she noted him, his wife and his bodyguard, Nightheart's keen senses had picked up two other forms filling the space beyond the desk. A cursory examination showed the form of tall, princely-looking platinum blonde haired man with tragedy and bitterness written in his eyes and a serious frown on his lips. The other was a stately looking raven haired woman with pale skin and honest compassionate blue eyes. Both of them had the military bearing that shouted "soldier!" and from the way they were standing close together Nightheart would have guessed that they were more than merely fellow soldiers.
"Colonel Zechs, Lieutenant Noin, these are them," said the President without preamble, to their guests. "The one on the right is Hunter Kylaran, one of our best agents. The one on the left is the one you're after. The Executioner."
Nightheart, for her part, crossed her arms stiffly in her constrictive uniform (after tugging on the bottom of her shirt again) and waited for an explanation. Hunter winced at his partner's rudeness and made the prerequisite introductions.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Sorry if my partner seems a little…cranky," Nightheart transferred her glare over to her erstwhile companion, who grinned to show he'd done it on purpose. "She just got in from a long stint of Executions out in Space Nation. She's a Ground Pounder so she doesn't really like being cooped up in a shuttle or on Habbie Plats, it makes her grouchy."
That last was for her, she knew it. She ignored her partner in favor of examining her guests in minute detail. That was odd…when she probed them with her power she got a strange sense of Otherness. There was the oddest feeling that, they didn't belong here somehow.
"That's alright," said the dark-haired one with her hair covering one eye. "I'm used to dealing with difficult personalities." She nodded to the man beside her.
"And just what precisely does that mean?" asked the long-haired blonde, speaking for the first time. His voice was not unpleasant to listen to, sort of raspy, and deep. Noin's voice was far more pleasant to listen to, being sort of wry and laced with good feelings. This was a woman who would put up with a lot from those she cared about.
"You ever see Colonel Une on an off-day?" she asked grinning. The blonde pretended to shudder.
Nightheart cleared her throat and said bluntly
"Who are you and what do you want?"
"Nightheart!" Hunter hissed, nudging her and glaring.
"Very well," she said, a small ghost of a smile hovering at her lips. "Who are you and what do you want sir?"
"Good enough," said the blonde. "I never was one for standing on ceremony. To get straight to the matter at hand, crazy as it sounds we are from a dimension parallel to your own and have traveled to your world using technology developed in secret on Mars. Unfortunately for us, we were not the first to develop this technology-"
"Project Alternity!" Hunter gasped. "That's what they were trying to make, a gateway to another reality! It makes sense now. Why stay in a place where the Executioner can Hunt them down when they could travel to another dimension and be free to feast as they like without fear of reprisal!"
"That does make rather a bit too much sense," agreed Nightheart, for the moment ignoring their guests in favor of talking with Hunter. "And it falls in line with the information from that Committee database of Black Ops you hacked into."
"Damn them. As if Project Dracula wasn't bad enough, now they feel the need to go messing about with the fabric of time and space as well," she muttered darkly. "I wish I could prove it! For once I would like one tiny concrete shred of proof!"
"Tough luck, they're just too good."
"Ahem. If I could just interrupt your little tete a tete, for one moment here…" said the blonde. "As I was saying. These Nightsider Assassins as you call them contacted certain parties within our own Government, some of them even on the ESUN council with an offer they couldn't refuse. They get rid of certain key political figures, in exchange for being allowed free reign the feast on the…what is it you call it?"
"Life-energies," supplied Nightheart. "That was the original purpose of Project Dracula. To create untraceable assassins for a political coup. Nightsiders drain a person of their vital essence, their life energies in order to feed their own Symbionts. The death of the Symbiont means the death of the host. The killings look like a natural death and are untraceable, except to another Nightsider."
"Which, from what the President has told me so far, I take it you are?"
"Correct."
"Good. Then you can stop these creatures? All the kings horses and all the kings men have tried and failed. It was a minor miracle in and of itself that we managed to get Relena out of there alive. The person who commissioned your little friends for their dirty work really really wants her dead. The Nightsiders have this strength…it can't be Human!"
"It's not," Hunter assured him. "Nightsider strength is unrivaled in the natural world. I personally think it's some kind of telekinesis. The Committee has never had any luck with breeding a true telekinetic…"
"Anywho, I saw the guy pick up a marble park bench with one hand as if it were nothing. He took out seventeen of our best Preventors with a single swing," said Noin. "He wasn't even afraid of a mobile suit!"
"I don't suppose he knew what the hell it was," said Hunter. "It takes a lot to scare a Nightsider."
"How about a fifty-foot high suit of walking metal?" said Zechs, piqued at their non-chalance.
"And this thing was run by conventional electronics right?" inquired Hunter. At Noin's nod he said
"Well, that's why. Some have the ability to influence electrical currents. Short-circuit things and so on."
"That must be what went wrong," said Zechs, recalling his frustration with the highly tuned suit when it had inexplicably died on them.
"And this is all simply fascinating. Truly," said Nightheart. "But what does any of this have to do with me?"
"I'd think the answer would be obvious," said Noin. "We want you to come to our Alternity and take care of our little infestation before too many people get killed."
Nightheart cocked her head to one side and studied them dispassionately.
"I am correct in stating that you wish for me to leave my duties here and travel to your Alternity in order to dispose of the Nightsiders who have traveled over, is that correct?"
"Quite," the one called Zechs confirmed.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. I swore my service to the people of this Alliance, to the protection of the innocent and the punishment of the guilty. There is a large majority of standing Mandates here in this Alternity. I would be abandoning my post if I left this dimension."
"But your duty is to hunt down Nightsiders," Noin argued. "There are Nightsiders over in our Alternity so it wouldn't be abandoning your responsibilities at all; more like expanding your sphere of control."
"There are more powerful assassins here that require my presence to keep their activities somewhat in line," Nighteart returned. "If the Alliance were to lose that deterrent provided by my presence then matters would be even more dangerous than they are already."
"You will be paid twice your normal fee for taking on this assignment," President Takahashi said abruptly.
"I have no interest in the money your Excellency. I believe that twelve Nightsiders is a situation that takes little precedence when compared to the recent activities of the First Court and the emergence of those new Sect Masters," she said dismissively.
"Some of those Nightsiders have plans to drain as many lives as possible while they are completely unhindered in our Alternity, and then they wish to come back here and take you and the leaders of that First Circle on," Noin said quickly. "I heard one of them say so himself."
"This puts and entirely different spin on things then," Nightheart said, reconsidering. "In that case they likely will pose a threat sooner or later and I would far rather take care of it before many people have been hurt. It is the most effective strategy. Very well, I accept your commission."
"I have the Execution Mandates all drawn up and signed," President Takahashi said smoothly.
"What about Hunter?" Nightheart added quickly, before she was dismissed. "It might be dangerous in this new Alternity. He should stay here to monitor these matters for me."
"What?! No way!" he objected vehemently. "Nightheart, you don't have any people skills, you need me."
"I do not require people skills to fulfil my duties. I am not here to be a diplomat; I am here to destroy the Assassins before they do significant damage to the general populace."
The President looked a little hesitant about that statement. Nightheart often had an attitude of extreme self-confidence that bordered on arrogance when faced with representatives of another power, whether it be local law enforcement or Alliance Agents. It wasn't deliberate or intentional, it was just that she was that good, she was accustomed to always being right, her skills as a warrior granted her almost unparalleled fighting prowess, and her Nightsider-granted abilities made her far more perceptive in most cases than the average human. All of these reasons and more gave her a semblance of "the manner born" the seeming of having absolute control over the situation, and the right to that absolute control.
"Nevertheless, there will be no small amount of diplomacy required in this matter," the President said. "Part of the mission profile will be in dealing with high place politicians."
"See? Told ya," sang Hunter cheerfully.
"You stay here," she told him.
"Nah, who's gonna keep you out of trouble then?"
Nightheart rolled her eyes skyward, as if asking for patience and sighed. It was going to be a long trip.
"Glad to have you on the payroll," said Noin. "If you like you can call me Noin, most everyone else does, although my official code name is Preventor Fire. Zechs over here goes by a wide variety of names-"
"Not all of them complimentary I'm sure," said Hunter with a quirk of his lips. Noin had to bite back a laugh. Zechs glanced sharply at Hunter who schooled his face into a bland expression.
"No comment," said Noin. "You can either call him Zechs or His code name, Preventor Wind."
"And people think I have and odd name," Nightheart muttered. "Very well then, let's get started. The sooner I complete this assignment, the better."
"So what's it like?" asked Noin, before Nightheart could turn to leave.
"What?"
"The President was telling me the outline of your occupation and a little of how you got here…"
"Pray that you never find out."
And with that, Nightheart turned on her heel to pack for another assignment. All the working uniforms from the assignment she'd just gotten off were either in ribbons, stained with blood (either hers or the other guy's) burned or otherwise damaged beyond repair. Hunter shrugged and followed her out, he had every intention of grabbing a decent meal while he was planetside, there was only so long one could live off nutripaste and protegel after all without going a little nuts. Nourishing it might be, tasty it was not.
"Hey Nightheart, wait up…"
END PART ONE.
Disclaimer: I think I have it at the top, go check there. If not, well… I don't own Gundam Wing, Nightheart and everything in her Alternity is mine however.