DISCLAIMER:...for the fiftieth time, I don't own Zoids.

I'm still not sure why I did it. Even though it was hardly as far gone as these other snippets of my past I've shown you. This is a very recent one compared to my old Molga-renting days. Couldn't have been more than a few months ago, but it's still hazy.

I remember spending the day working on blueprints, probably of our planned base that I was going to rebuild. I probably went to bed easily enough. But for some reason I must have woke up, maybe from a dream or from the heat radiating from the window. Maybe it was instinct. The next thing I remember is hopping into Psy's cockpit fully dressed not ten minutes after waking up, it was still night out.

The trips itself is a blur. I just remember watching the sky change color as it neared four in the morning, the sky shifted colors frequently on Zi due to the multiple moons. I remember piloting without talking, so Psy was either staying quiet or asleep while I rode him like a normal zoid.

This is where I can remember things in depth. I slowed Psy down to a normal pace as I spotted my destination on the dark horizon. A clump of squared structures that marked the limits between this country and the next. I heeled my zoid into a parked crouch, opening the cockpit and hopping out straight into the packed dirt. I adjusted the collar of my Reckless-Emblazoned jacket as I walked up closer to the town, seeing it looked abandoned. As I walked past the remains of a barbed wire fence I noticed some dim lights coming from the more sturdy looking buildings. The dirt streets between the 'houses' were littered with trash and other debris.

Good old home town with no name. I swore I'd never go back there. What was I doing there then? I recall walking through the roads I knew every inch of. Past closed, makeshift stores and larger buildings divided into apartments. I can't call it a real town, most of the residents are just squatting here because the law can't reach them. It was here or jail. Personally, jail was cleaner. Max only came out here because he built a modern house near the limits, it was the most isolated place he could afford. No fans would stop by asking about how his daughter became a terrorist.

I walked under a street lamp that at once time provided light, but now just served as a decoration. I was going through the main streets to the North side of town. I knew exactly where I was going. Home. Well, where I had to live for seventeen years. Where they lived.

I saw it pop up from behind an abandoned mill, a house that was once very nice for this area. Three stories, full lawn, must have been built before the boundaries were set and the criminals moved in. Like my parents.

Speaking of which, there they were. Every window was lit up with harsh light, despite the fact it was four in the morning. I stood there in my old front lawn, watching two shadows stagger around from window to window. Each shadow was holding a bottle. They drank every night, and every other day.

For some reason, probably the same reason I came here, I walked up to the door and pushed the lock in. I heard some bottles break as the door opened, they never did pick up after themselves in this town. I looked around at the unpainted walls before taking a shallow breath and walking through the halls toward the slurred talking. Soon enough my mother falls in front of me, laughing and tossing her glass away, where it shatters against the wall. She's wearing an expensive dress that's been in tatters for years.

She lays there, laughing for a bit before looking up at me with her gray eyes and staring vacantly. Her brows tighten, she stands up while her eye begins twitching.

"…Boy…the boy crawled back for food…"

She was drunk. I could smell it from here. She starts ranting the usual speech. I'm a bastard, I ruined their life, I deserve to die and should worship her for letting me live as a child. I just stand there. Wearing a new uniform that makes this place look more dirty by the minute. She's filthy, smeared with old booze and dirt that used to be make up.

I hear my father snoring in the next room. He was the better parent, he just passed out all the time. My mother was getting angrier by the second. She was telling me to slump down like a good slave. I kept standing up straight, much taller than her now. She still thought I was a kid. She's not even here, she's in a drunken flashback. She always was.

Now she slips off one broken high heel. She raises I above her head, screeching for me to back down. I don't. Not anymore. The sight of the show makes my scars burn. She screams I deserve this and swings the sharpened shoe at my throat. It never makes contact, it flies out of her hand and clatters on the floor. She stares at her hand, seeing a dislocated finger hanging off it. She looks back at me with drunken eyes and goes to slap me. There's a snap as my wrist breaks her other hand.

She grunts, but alcohol wins over pain. She pulls a sharp piece of metal from the hemline of her dress and jabs it at my chest. I grab her wrist before it cuts my jacket. This is it? This woman made my life a living hell for years, and now she can barely hit me? She could never control me on the outside. She controlled my mind. Well, now the mind is free. And so is the body.

I toss away he old knife. I've dreamed of hitting her for years. Now she's just an old drunk. I'm not going to hit a homeless person. I shove her into the corner, turning to walk out. I still don't know why I came there. As I go to walk out I hear her clear, unslurred voice.

"…how...could you…Trey Coran…"

I slowly turn to see her looking at me like a monster. She's out of her mind. She always was.

"…you killed Trey Coran. You tortured, mutilated and killed your own son."

She just stares, still out of it.

"…oh…"

And she keels over onto the floor, out cold from the alcohol. I walk back out down the street to my Saix. I swing myself into the cockpit and start it up. Spinning him around, back to the town, and full speed ahead. We go near max speed into the horizon as I think back to what'd I'd done. I'd gone home. I'd reduced my parents to the drunken morons they really are. As I pondered why I did this, I saw the sun rise over the horizon. What? The sky hadn't turned light. It just rose up as I pulled the Psycho Saix into high gear back to Vigilia.

"…still in a daze, huh?"

I realized he was in on it. I shrugged, not making a noise.

"The sunset isn't supposed to come for an hour. This early one is a gift from Eve. She sends her regards to the late Trey Coran."

I slowly nod. It all clicked right there. Trey Coran, a little boy who was battered and scarred, nothing to look forward to but a bunch of metal animals that didn't exist. He's dead. His own parents killed him. I looked into a darkened screen and saw the hat-shaded face looking back at me. Trey's face. Trey Maxwell Brand. My father was Max Brand. My mother, I'm not sure. My sister is named Sarah. My nephew, Vega. My family? Team Reckless. What about friends. Not a single other kid in that old town. Now I made friends with dozens of people a day. Trey Coran is no more. I'm Trey Brand. But just call me Chase.

Well, Zoid Eve has good taste in gifts.

Just a Few Hours Later

Good news, Sam's girlfriend came into the picture. He won't be staying with us, she'll take care of him at her apartment. Actually, they just started dating as of this morning. Let's just say one of his nurses in the hospital had Florence Nightingale Syndrome.

But he did come by the Killer Whale to thank us, and see the zoid. After the initial greetings I led him into the Hanger, holding him up with one shoulder. He was still pretty weak. As the elevator door opened I warned him.

"…she looks a bit diff…"

He saw it from the doorway before I could say it.

"…it's…gorgous…"

I led him out to its place. He just stared at the ivory and blue Geno Saurer, trying to figure out how it could be his.

"…well, if you can make it into the cockpit and start it up we can wake up the zoid core."

I checked a graph on a console to make sure. Yeah, the core could wake up without any major pain. It needs to chill in this body for a few weeks, but after that it'll be smooth sailing.

I went to lower the cockpit, searching my shirt for the remote. By the time I found it, Sam was already prying open the hatch and stumbling in. Wow, either he recovers fast, or he really loves that zoid. I watched the red eyes flare to life, it reared back and roared, filling its new armor and body with energy. I just stood there, nodding to myself. The Geno soon shook its head as if waking up, and looked down at its own feet. I turned and walked into the elevator. These two needed some time alone.

Actually, I had to lock myself in my room and cry for an hour. I just saved two lives in one repair job.

The Next Day

I woke up in my futon, wrapped in a cool sheet and with a pillow under my feet. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, remembering waking up back when my last name was Coran. And when I lived in the Molga, and I still winced whenever some one touched me. Then the Whale King where we now resided, before and after the upgrade to a new type of transport. And now I was staring up through a skylight from the comfort of my own bed. Not a cot or a couch, a bed. Okay, futon. But you get the point.

I slid out of bed, pulling on a shirt and looking at the plaque on the wall. A montage of Max's old Saix. Then some new pictures of the Psycho Saix. And in the center, a picture from the first day of my life, standing with Riz next to the paw of a bare metal Saix in the public Hanger that we were now parked on top of. I smiled, reading the brass plate. 'Evolution or Dedication?' I continued dressing and then checked my messages at my desk. Another letter from Max. An update on the law case about my new zoid designs.

Two hundred and seventy letters of thanks from buyers of the Liger. I moved them to a folder to read later, I'm up to five hundred this week. Every day it's another saved farm. Another retired pilot who can relive his old glory days. Dozens upon dozens of new pilots who start out piloting my zoids.

And even people who have never been interested in zoids until they found a Liger parked on their property with a ribbon around its neck, and a note saying 'You're welcome.' Where did these things come from? Some think it's just a charity coincidence. Some children tell stories of a talking cat zoid that brings them to good people. Others think some guy is searching out poor souls and sending them free zoids that can make their lives easier. That's just insane. They're not free, I pay for them out of my own pocket. And do you have any idea how much it costs to ship a zoid? Heck, sometimes I have to ride it down myself and have Psy follow me so I can ride him back without being seen.

I finish readiny me message from the President and walk out to the kitchen. My Team is eating breakfast at the counter. I admire the scene before walking past them to the elevator door. Sue swallows her ceral and asks.

"Chase, you're not working on a zoid are you?"

I shake my head, waiting for the elevator to come. Rax asks.

"You doing some new training thing?"

I shake my head again. Clara asks.

"…where are you going?"

I shrug, the door opens. I step in but answer them before the door closes.

"I think I'll just take a zoid out and go run. Some kids spend all their lives dreaming of doing that."

My Team chuckles as he door begins to close. Clara calls out before it shuts.

"Chase, you're one weird guy."

I chuckle as the lift goes down. I stand there silently as the floors go by. The emergency speaker clicks.

"…you crying, or did a fly kamikaze into your cornea?"

"…Psy, I am going to personally rip out these cameras with my bare hands."

Author's Note

Fifty chapters...wow. And Trey's only been around for six months. Sorry if this chapter was too emotional and gritty. Thanks for the reviews, and thank you for reading. And no, this isn't the end. I'm just getting started. Dear God, I just quoted my own character...