Authors note: the reason for the story being so slow is that its still being set up for the intricate plot that I have devised. This is the last chapter of setup, and the following chapters after this one will be more... "compelling" Thank You for understanding.
Akira
He was overjoyed to see the fuel canisters lined up against the wall of the underground hangar. He moved as quickly as he could while being quiet. He pulled the suit over to the canisters and had it kneel. This operation usually took two to three men, but he would have to pull it off himself. He attached the nozzle to the side of the mecha, making sure that the pieces were aligned. Then the fuel pumping began. Reading the gauge on the container, he was dismayed to find that it was not enough to top off the tank, but rather about half. That wasn't good enough, he wouldn't be able to hold them off for very long. He would have to take them out.
After finishing the fuel up, he removed the nozzle. It slipped from his hands and fell onto his knee. Yelling out in pain, the noise echoed through the large chamber. If they didn't know that he was here, then they would definitely know now. He limped back into the modified GM, turning it on fully. Though he had multiple short range weapons, he had nothing in the ways of a rifle. He would have to force a close combat assault...
Kneeling, he twisted his upper body around the corner, peering around, he made out four mobile suits. Three GM's and one gundam. The GM's would pose no challenge but the gundam could be deadly... Twisting back, he came to a full stance and started walking towards the suits. One of them turned to face him, raising a gun. Akira didn't flinch, he kept walking towards the enemy. The suit lowered its weapon. Opening the hatch, the man from inside called out to him.
"Hey! We've been waiting for you for a while! We thought that you might have been hurt!" The man became confused at his companions silence.
His mouth gaped in horror when Akira deployed the two blades attached to his arms. The huge scythe like blades gleamed in the sunlight, menacing, beautifully deadly. The young soldier tried desperately to get back into his suit, trying to close the hatch when Akira reached him. Time slowed down as the sharp blades carved through the suit, tearing through the right shoulder and ending at the groin. The generator exploded in the older model GM.
The other two GM's reacted quickly, bringing their arms to bear. Turning the Modified GM's head, he fired the vulcans. The six barrels churned out projectiles at an alarming rate, spraying the GM's and making them take cover. One lucky shot managed to take out the main camera on the furthest GM, making his job even easier. Rushing towards the closer of the two, he quickly butchered the suit in two, separating the legs and head. The halves crumpled, and then exploded, exposing Akira's GM to extreme heat and some major damage to one of the arms. The arm sparked, wires and parts hanging out of the gash in the armor plating. But he had not time to waste.
The other GM was shooting wildly, Trying to hit something. It was amazing that Akira had been able to take out the two cameras with the single quick spray of bullets. He shoved the suit down, crushing its arm with his foot. Taking a beam saber out, he penetrated the cockpit, ending the pilot's life.
Suddenly he was hit in the back with an rpg, destroying the jet pack, and totally disintegrating most of the upper back armor plating. But, he was lucky once again. The tank rounds had not been made for such deep penetration, and the backpack had created a layer just thick enough to provide sufficient protection. The round didn't reach the cockpit.
Staggering, he turned around. Running towards his enemy, he raised a shielded arm. It was the same arm that had just been damaged not 30 seconds ago. Dropping the rpg, it grabbed its machine gun and fired. Protecting the cockpit, the arm disintegrated under the extreme force of the rounds slamming into it. Slamming the suit to the side, he hid around the building. He moved silently but quickly, trying to get behind his foe. His only armaments were the vulcans and the one blade. This guy was smart, keeping his back to a corner. Akira went to the other side, waiting to pounce at the perfect moment, looking at the infra red view screen in front of him.
The gundam shifted its weight for a split second, looking towards the sky and leaning on the wall. Akira thrust his arm through the wall, tearing through cement and various metal. The arm's blade shoved itself deep into his foes back, tearing through layers of armor. But the gundam pilot's reaction speed was amazing. He quickly whipped around, spraying the GM with multiple rounds through the big hole in the building, the Gundam's targeting systems were highly advanced technology allowing the Gundam's pilot to nearly completely neglect his camera views. The dust from the building was not a problem for the pilot. Covering the cockpit again, his arm's shield was torn to pieces. Luckily the blade and hand were not damaged. Jumping back, he activated the vulcans. The six barrels vibrated in all their glory as they spat out numerous rounds. He sprayed the gundam, ripping holes in its armor, ripping apart its hand. The barrels, from the extreme friction, burned out under the huge heat generation. He was left with the single blade.
But the gundam pilot remained steady, and unleashed a three round burst. Ripping through the right knee of the mecha, it tore apart various crucial mechanisms, spewing oils from the essential lubrication lines that ran through the leg. It blew out, a small explosion erupting from the joint, disintegrating parts of the leg as well. He was in trouble if he didn't think of something fast.
Sergeant Johnson
The man began to speak, "My name is Xavier Pullman. I'm sorry that we have to churn you out so soon, but to tell you the truth, this isn't just any basement. I am the mayor of this small town, and this is the bomb shelter. Since we did not have anything to do with this fighting, we thought it best to not accept anyone that we didn't know. Your a liability to us, you being non neutral. If the Zeons were to take over this town, then we would be killed for keeping you here. We did have our reasons. But since your friend has finished being treated, we have to have you leave here immediately". Johnson was speechless. It was only a few hours ago that they came to this place. He had hoped that they would be able to stay for at least a couple days.
Xavier knew very well that Kasumi wouldn't have a very high chance of survival. Johnson argued, yelling at the man, begging him. After sitting there and watching Johnson rant for a while, he grew tired. He became angry. Lifting himself out of his chair, he punched Johnson. He stumbled and fell to the floor, his face stinging with a throbbing pain. Xavier said one final word, a sign of his departure. "OUT!" Xavier grabbed some medical supplies and shoved them into a bag, not caring what they were. He threw the bag at Johnson, motioning at the door. Grabbing Kasumi by her arm, he carried her over to the door. Throwing her outside, he shoved Johnson through the door.
He sat there for an hour, wondering what to do. He became hysterical at times, wondering why he had to go through this hell again. Looking down at Kasumi, he cursed her for being so fragile, for being hurt. He threw punches at the rubble, making his knuckles bleed. He had nowhere to go, nowhere where he could take Kasumi. He dropped to his knees, exhausted. He sat there for a while longer, thinking, day dreaming.
It was a wasteland, the black sand glinting in the bright sunlight. Private Johnson was dehydrated, demoralized. He couldn't think straight. He carried an empty canteen in one hand, A gun in the other. The metal burned an impression in his hand, the skin turning a dark pink. It was empty, a clip missing from the bottom of the handle. And yet he pushed on. His mind was empty of rational thought, nothing of use flowing through his head. Looking down at his arm he realized that he was hungry. His eyes glinted in the sun, a sinister look on his face. Biting into it, he dug his teeth deep. But before he could rip a bite out, he passed out on the smoldering sand... saving his arm from being eaten.
Johnson shuddered, looking down at his arm. His hand was scarred, the imprint of a gun there forever. His forearm was scarred deeply with bite marks, the scar tissue reaching the bone. He didn't want to go crazy again, he didn't want to die. Getting up off the ground, he grabbed the bag and Kasumi. He would have to find somewhere to spend the ever approaching night. The sun started to set as he walked, putting a time constraint on his life. If he didn't make it to shelter, then they were finished... They needed somewhere warm.