I never forgot the day I met the finest spy the Earth Alliance ever
utilized. Neither did I forget the premises as to which our first
rendezvous began. That fateful day, I learned of the dark side of Treize
Khushrenada, a friend and an ally. She revolutionized the way I saw
Treize. Midii Une was fifteen years old. We learned that day she had
killed over five hundred armed forces throughout her career.
She was strong. Stronger than any other little girl, and I've seen many. She exposed me before the rest of the Dukes- she was to be neutralized. She had to- it was compensation. I let her live, and I am still paying for it. She compromised my credibility before some of the most influential men on the earth and beyond. She was an obstacle, nothing more, nothing less.
~*~
Seventh May, After Colony 195
Checking the uniform's authenticity for the fifth time, she glided past the front desk. The secretary was on the phone, completely oblivious of the potential 'incident' that could happen in moments. The girl smiled as she checked her appearance in the mirror as she passed by. She was young, but with her hair up and the heavy makeup, she could pass for legal age.
She noticed a walnut side table set up against the wall. On it laid the marks of a Duke- a General, more specifically: the pistol, the sash, the pin. Apparently he was not ready yet. She palmed the pistol and tucked it in the breast pocket of her jacket. She could feel the Beretta special on her hip, uncomfortably hitting her leg at every stride. As she veered off to the left she saw him. Treize Khushrenada stopped at the drop leaf, confused, but took up the remaining pieces, sign of his rank. The spy was suddenly aware of her heavy breathing. She reached for the gun when he looked up briefly, but regained composure when he opened the door to the conference room and entered with his rehearsed grandeur. Her shoulders dropped with relief. Suddenly her attention was turned to the bug. They were talking in German, and she kicked herself for being so bad at it. Then she heard chairs being scraped across the floor and Treize sending them off. A stream of middle- aged men trickled out of the double doors as Treize began to leave. This was her chance. Taking out her guns, she slid across the carpet, then shot. He never saw her coming.
He didn't know if the bullet hit him, but he grabbed his face in recoil. Finding no wound, he looked down on his attacker. He was never more surprised in his life. A girl lay on the floor, holding his gun and a cop- issued Beretta. She was pale in coloring, blue eyes, blonde hair. She appeared just as shocked as he. The politicians started coming back, but she kicked the door closed and then stood before him. He dwarfed her, as she appeared about 5'2". But still, as she took on the professional, rigid pose before him, threatening him with his own gun, she seemed much bigger. Then she spoke in a startlingly clear tone. "Khushrenada, you bastard, I will shoot you now, with your own gun." "Easy, doll. Who are you?" "Don't call me that." "What did I do?" he asked. "You know what you did. How is it you- people like you- can slaughter hundreds without blinking an eye? I don't understand. So help me understand- show me your face and I will remedy all of your troubles." "I believe you are mistaken, miss," he pleaded. She flipped her head to get the hair out of her face, with the look of death in her eyes. "Oh no, Duke Khushrenada, I have come way too far to be mistaken." "What do you want?" he asked. She threw the Beretta behind her and raised the pistol to his brow, then looked him straight in the eye, blue-grey meeting amber. "I want settlement. I want restitution. But I can make a deal- your blood will pay for the rivers of it you have spilled," she said without faltering. She cocked the gun, and as the trigger pulled- "Drop it." Zechs Marquees stood behind her, digging the Beretta's barrel into the small of her back. She arched, consequently taking the gun up to Treize's hairline. No one breathed. She felt fear for the very first time.
He saw his opportunity. Taking the girl's wrist, he twisted, snapping it. She screamed as Zechs stowed the rifle and caught her. "Treize!" he heard. A smile crossed his face as he looked at the whimpering girl, holding her injured hand and looking for the gun. "Take her to interrogation," he told the baron.
Zechs was glad Treize couldn't see his face.
~*~
He had watched from the window. Treize was his superior, but the Lightning Count wanted to do something- impossibility. The girl sat, freezing and wet, handcuffed. This would have been enough. But Treize paced around her. Zechs had seen him and others like him do this- but not to fifteen- year-old girls. It broke them- the torment of hours-long interrogation, the degradation of self. He knew the eloquent lines Treize would use, and he knew the things he would hit.
She sat on the table, swinging her legs.
"Miss Une..." a man's voice said, "Are you going to tell the truth now?"
"I already gave you everything." She replied dryly in a French brough.
"Who gave you orders to destroy the mercenaries?" Treize Khushrenada stepped into the camera's view. Puffing on a cigar, he looked down on the girl. She was young – maybe fourteen. He was noticeably losing patience.
"And the mobile suits? What about them?" he asked. She stared up at the camera. He continued.
"Midii...you need to tell me now who you are working for." "I don't have to tell you anything. I didn't commit any crime," she said, her accent thickening. He took her arm and stabbed the cigar into the flesh of her wrist. She let out a small yelp but was quieted almost immediately. "We take away your weapons. We take away your strength. We take away your friends, and what do you have left?" he toyed. She looked him straight in the eye. "Me." She got up and faced Khushrenada, who swiftly buried the barrel of a gun into her stomach. Intrepid, she took it in her hands. Caught off guard, Treize could only watch as she forced the pistol up and slapped it across his face. Before she could spin it around to face him Zechs had her on the floor. "What the hell are you trying to pull here?" he half-yelled. She struggled to free herself but was overpowered by the Lightning Count. "Get off of me!" "First you answer my questions, Midii" "You have questions, I have lies," she hissed. She watched as Treize headed for the door. "In the morning, perhaps you'll talk," the duke said over his shoulder. Zechs relaxed.
~*~
Midii curled into a ball in one of the chamois conference chairs in Khushrenada's office. The hallway bustled with the sounds of bureaucracy at its best. The handcuffs, which had been tightened at Treize's bidding, bit into the spy's wrists. This could be difficult. There was no way that she could get out of this- she was going against the Alliance and she would be incarcerated as a double agent. Her thoughts were averted to Treize as he entered the room. He stole a glance at Midii and sat at his desk, taking his infamous pose, palms pressed together and leaning toward his victim. Midii was only half ready for this. "Miss Une..." he began.
He looked her over thoroughly. The girl's hair fell now in loose curls, set from being led through the rain. Someone had taken the stolen OZ jacket, leaving her in the straight-legged gray pants and the omnipresent black tank that all Alliance soldiers wore. "I'm up here," she said, realizing he was staring intently at her chest. He cleared his throat. "Miss Une-" "Colonel Une," she corrected. "Are you aware of the present circumstances?" he asked, his eyes slitting. "If you're referring to the Specials Corp splitting from the Alliance, yes," she answered in the same clear voice. He nodded in agreement. "The time has come, Colonel Une, for you to choose sides. I was surprised to find you not in the Specials database- you have shown remarkable skills- " "I'm not a pilot," she said forcefully. "Be that as it may, you are accomplished in...other areas. I speak for everyone at OZ when I say that we would be proud to-" "I'd rather be court-martialed," she interrupted coolly. "You do realize you are compromising your career, Midii," he said, intrigued by her willpower. "Absolutely," she said. "I will not stand here and let you take this any further." "Twice you've made an attempt on my life," he said, "And twice you have failed." "Only because of your little boyfriend," she spat venomously. He stood and strode over to her. "You're truly tempting me- to kill you," he whispered. "Go ahead- it should be habitualistic by now," she returned. "You really do hate me?"
"Damn straight," Midii said, standing. "I'm going to propose something that you may brush off, but I want you to at least consider it."
"That's one way to get some," she said. Fearless, she walked to the
security camera in one corner. "Do you realize, Khushrenada, that
everything you do in this room is recorded?" she asked smartly.
"It helps to have friends in the security room," Treize returned.
"We can either debate over this for hours in a calm and reflexive
manner, or we could...do something more constructive," she drawled. "I
stay with the true Alliance. You become the leader of OZ. We go our
separate ways, and you can do what you like."
"Why trust me that much, Midii?"
"Colonel Une, Duke Khushrenada. And believe me, I do not. In
becoming the leader of such an organization, you leave behind you the...protection you were gifted by this one. Everything you do at OZ will be seen by someone, and I believe these people will be less blind than of the Alliance," Midii finished. Satisfied, she sat back on Treize desk, facing him. Treize paced for a moment, then looked at the colonel. "Alright then," he growled, "You stay with the crumbling Alliance, and we step out of the ashes. Good day, Colonel Une," he said, reluctantly removing the cuffs. She let a smile cross her face before making a beeline for the door. As she reached the sterile hallway, he picked up his pistol and raised it. The sound of the gun cocking made her turn around; she actually saw him shoot her in the chest.
Twenty-first January, AC 196
Someone had finished the job. Her vendetta had been justified, her cause completed. Midii Une was in St. Mercy General when she watched Heero Yuy and Zechs Merquise battle to the death, when she saw Treize's Gundam sliced in two; it gave her neither pleasure nor any guilt. Midii Une, age sixteen, survived a shattered rib, collapsed lung, and a cracked sternum. Treize Khushrenada had lost his touch in attempting to kill Une, he thought he had succeeded. One small package was sent out, to a Mr. Trowa Barton. Upon opening it, Barton found a surprise. It was a golden crucifix and a spent bullet. Two notes were attached, one explaining the forensics and the other the surgeon that worked on Midii. Apparently, the .9 had been the only thing holding the two haves together; a bullet found in Midii's chest cavity had supposedly knocked the first out of the pendant. The surgeon's findings were that the crucifix absorbs critical momentum, slowing the bullet and saving her life.
"Take this, and God will protect you...."
She was strong. Stronger than any other little girl, and I've seen many. She exposed me before the rest of the Dukes- she was to be neutralized. She had to- it was compensation. I let her live, and I am still paying for it. She compromised my credibility before some of the most influential men on the earth and beyond. She was an obstacle, nothing more, nothing less.
~*~
Seventh May, After Colony 195
Checking the uniform's authenticity for the fifth time, she glided past the front desk. The secretary was on the phone, completely oblivious of the potential 'incident' that could happen in moments. The girl smiled as she checked her appearance in the mirror as she passed by. She was young, but with her hair up and the heavy makeup, she could pass for legal age.
She noticed a walnut side table set up against the wall. On it laid the marks of a Duke- a General, more specifically: the pistol, the sash, the pin. Apparently he was not ready yet. She palmed the pistol and tucked it in the breast pocket of her jacket. She could feel the Beretta special on her hip, uncomfortably hitting her leg at every stride. As she veered off to the left she saw him. Treize Khushrenada stopped at the drop leaf, confused, but took up the remaining pieces, sign of his rank. The spy was suddenly aware of her heavy breathing. She reached for the gun when he looked up briefly, but regained composure when he opened the door to the conference room and entered with his rehearsed grandeur. Her shoulders dropped with relief. Suddenly her attention was turned to the bug. They were talking in German, and she kicked herself for being so bad at it. Then she heard chairs being scraped across the floor and Treize sending them off. A stream of middle- aged men trickled out of the double doors as Treize began to leave. This was her chance. Taking out her guns, she slid across the carpet, then shot. He never saw her coming.
He didn't know if the bullet hit him, but he grabbed his face in recoil. Finding no wound, he looked down on his attacker. He was never more surprised in his life. A girl lay on the floor, holding his gun and a cop- issued Beretta. She was pale in coloring, blue eyes, blonde hair. She appeared just as shocked as he. The politicians started coming back, but she kicked the door closed and then stood before him. He dwarfed her, as she appeared about 5'2". But still, as she took on the professional, rigid pose before him, threatening him with his own gun, she seemed much bigger. Then she spoke in a startlingly clear tone. "Khushrenada, you bastard, I will shoot you now, with your own gun." "Easy, doll. Who are you?" "Don't call me that." "What did I do?" he asked. "You know what you did. How is it you- people like you- can slaughter hundreds without blinking an eye? I don't understand. So help me understand- show me your face and I will remedy all of your troubles." "I believe you are mistaken, miss," he pleaded. She flipped her head to get the hair out of her face, with the look of death in her eyes. "Oh no, Duke Khushrenada, I have come way too far to be mistaken." "What do you want?" he asked. She threw the Beretta behind her and raised the pistol to his brow, then looked him straight in the eye, blue-grey meeting amber. "I want settlement. I want restitution. But I can make a deal- your blood will pay for the rivers of it you have spilled," she said without faltering. She cocked the gun, and as the trigger pulled- "Drop it." Zechs Marquees stood behind her, digging the Beretta's barrel into the small of her back. She arched, consequently taking the gun up to Treize's hairline. No one breathed. She felt fear for the very first time.
He saw his opportunity. Taking the girl's wrist, he twisted, snapping it. She screamed as Zechs stowed the rifle and caught her. "Treize!" he heard. A smile crossed his face as he looked at the whimpering girl, holding her injured hand and looking for the gun. "Take her to interrogation," he told the baron.
Zechs was glad Treize couldn't see his face.
~*~
He had watched from the window. Treize was his superior, but the Lightning Count wanted to do something- impossibility. The girl sat, freezing and wet, handcuffed. This would have been enough. But Treize paced around her. Zechs had seen him and others like him do this- but not to fifteen- year-old girls. It broke them- the torment of hours-long interrogation, the degradation of self. He knew the eloquent lines Treize would use, and he knew the things he would hit.
She sat on the table, swinging her legs.
"Miss Une..." a man's voice said, "Are you going to tell the truth now?"
"I already gave you everything." She replied dryly in a French brough.
"Who gave you orders to destroy the mercenaries?" Treize Khushrenada stepped into the camera's view. Puffing on a cigar, he looked down on the girl. She was young – maybe fourteen. He was noticeably losing patience.
"And the mobile suits? What about them?" he asked. She stared up at the camera. He continued.
"Midii...you need to tell me now who you are working for." "I don't have to tell you anything. I didn't commit any crime," she said, her accent thickening. He took her arm and stabbed the cigar into the flesh of her wrist. She let out a small yelp but was quieted almost immediately. "We take away your weapons. We take away your strength. We take away your friends, and what do you have left?" he toyed. She looked him straight in the eye. "Me." She got up and faced Khushrenada, who swiftly buried the barrel of a gun into her stomach. Intrepid, she took it in her hands. Caught off guard, Treize could only watch as she forced the pistol up and slapped it across his face. Before she could spin it around to face him Zechs had her on the floor. "What the hell are you trying to pull here?" he half-yelled. She struggled to free herself but was overpowered by the Lightning Count. "Get off of me!" "First you answer my questions, Midii" "You have questions, I have lies," she hissed. She watched as Treize headed for the door. "In the morning, perhaps you'll talk," the duke said over his shoulder. Zechs relaxed.
~*~
Midii curled into a ball in one of the chamois conference chairs in Khushrenada's office. The hallway bustled with the sounds of bureaucracy at its best. The handcuffs, which had been tightened at Treize's bidding, bit into the spy's wrists. This could be difficult. There was no way that she could get out of this- she was going against the Alliance and she would be incarcerated as a double agent. Her thoughts were averted to Treize as he entered the room. He stole a glance at Midii and sat at his desk, taking his infamous pose, palms pressed together and leaning toward his victim. Midii was only half ready for this. "Miss Une..." he began.
He looked her over thoroughly. The girl's hair fell now in loose curls, set from being led through the rain. Someone had taken the stolen OZ jacket, leaving her in the straight-legged gray pants and the omnipresent black tank that all Alliance soldiers wore. "I'm up here," she said, realizing he was staring intently at her chest. He cleared his throat. "Miss Une-" "Colonel Une," she corrected. "Are you aware of the present circumstances?" he asked, his eyes slitting. "If you're referring to the Specials Corp splitting from the Alliance, yes," she answered in the same clear voice. He nodded in agreement. "The time has come, Colonel Une, for you to choose sides. I was surprised to find you not in the Specials database- you have shown remarkable skills- " "I'm not a pilot," she said forcefully. "Be that as it may, you are accomplished in...other areas. I speak for everyone at OZ when I say that we would be proud to-" "I'd rather be court-martialed," she interrupted coolly. "You do realize you are compromising your career, Midii," he said, intrigued by her willpower. "Absolutely," she said. "I will not stand here and let you take this any further." "Twice you've made an attempt on my life," he said, "And twice you have failed." "Only because of your little boyfriend," she spat venomously. He stood and strode over to her. "You're truly tempting me- to kill you," he whispered. "Go ahead- it should be habitualistic by now," she returned. "You really do hate me?"
"Damn straight," Midii said, standing. "I'm going to propose something that you may brush off, but I want you to at least consider it."
"That's one way to get some," she said. Fearless, she walked to the
security camera in one corner. "Do you realize, Khushrenada, that
everything you do in this room is recorded?" she asked smartly.
"It helps to have friends in the security room," Treize returned.
"We can either debate over this for hours in a calm and reflexive
manner, or we could...do something more constructive," she drawled. "I
stay with the true Alliance. You become the leader of OZ. We go our
separate ways, and you can do what you like."
"Why trust me that much, Midii?"
"Colonel Une, Duke Khushrenada. And believe me, I do not. In
becoming the leader of such an organization, you leave behind you the...protection you were gifted by this one. Everything you do at OZ will be seen by someone, and I believe these people will be less blind than of the Alliance," Midii finished. Satisfied, she sat back on Treize desk, facing him. Treize paced for a moment, then looked at the colonel. "Alright then," he growled, "You stay with the crumbling Alliance, and we step out of the ashes. Good day, Colonel Une," he said, reluctantly removing the cuffs. She let a smile cross her face before making a beeline for the door. As she reached the sterile hallway, he picked up his pistol and raised it. The sound of the gun cocking made her turn around; she actually saw him shoot her in the chest.
Twenty-first January, AC 196
Someone had finished the job. Her vendetta had been justified, her cause completed. Midii Une was in St. Mercy General when she watched Heero Yuy and Zechs Merquise battle to the death, when she saw Treize's Gundam sliced in two; it gave her neither pleasure nor any guilt. Midii Une, age sixteen, survived a shattered rib, collapsed lung, and a cracked sternum. Treize Khushrenada had lost his touch in attempting to kill Une, he thought he had succeeded. One small package was sent out, to a Mr. Trowa Barton. Upon opening it, Barton found a surprise. It was a golden crucifix and a spent bullet. Two notes were attached, one explaining the forensics and the other the surgeon that worked on Midii. Apparently, the .9 had been the only thing holding the two haves together; a bullet found in Midii's chest cavity had supposedly knocked the first out of the pendant. The surgeon's findings were that the crucifix absorbs critical momentum, slowing the bullet and saving her life.
"Take this, and God will protect you...."