I don't own anything except Kevin Walker and Invictus
Days after the battle with Andrew Waltfeld in the desert, Kevin lay half-buried in the guts of the Punisher, uttering the occasional grunt or curse as tools slipped and hit him. He was the only soul in the Archangel's hanger.
He'd been there for some hours when Cagalli wandered in. "Is that you, Kevin?" She could see only a pair of black-clad legs.
From within came a thump. "Ouch!" A few muffled curses later, Kevin emerged from the access panel, rubbing his head. "Hey, Cagalli. I was just making a few repairs; I'm the only one aboard sufficiently familiar with this bastardized monstrosity."
Curious, she looked up at the enormous weapon. This was the first chance she'd had to examine it up close. "What's wrong with it?"
He looked disgusted. "Everything." Kevin waved the huge wrench he was holding (presumably, that was what had hit him) at the open panel. "Sand in the joints, a stray missile cracked the optics, the scale system short-circuited itself and several other systems, and, to top it all off, they scratched the paint."
"Ouch." Cagalli raised an eyebrow. "You always do this alone? None of your friends help out?"
"I don't see much of them these days," he admitted, setting aside the wrench and wiping his hands on a rag. "Tolle and Mir spend most of their time as a couple, Kuzzey hasn't really trusted me since he learned of some of my shady past -not to mention since I threw him halfway across the ship- Sai's been spending his time going quietly out of his mind -I should know- and Kira, well..." He shrugged slowly. "He's been spending his time with Flay of late." Kevin scowled. "I don't like the smell of it; especially since Flay seems to have moved into Kira's quarters." He shrugged again. "So, anyway, if I want intelligent conversation I pretty much have to talk to myself or the Punisher's computers, and let me tell you: mobile suit computers are not the brightest AIs out there."
"I see. Must get pretty lonely," she observed.
Kevin sighed. "I kinda got used to that over the years; it comes with the territory when you can't trust anybody. I'm only just starting to learn to trust people again. Those years left me with very little faith in the human race, Natural or Coordinator."
Cagalli nodded, still staring at the mobile suit. Suddenly, a light dawned. "This was what you meant by 'reinforcements', wasn't it? You knew it was coming."
He nodded. "Yeah; I've got a radio built into my skull, which operates on a frequency that seems to ignore N-jammers. The Punisher here has limited remote-operating capabilities, enough for me to summon it via radio; I expected trouble in that battle." He looked away. "I only wish it had arrived in time to save Ahmed. I didn't get the chance to know him very well, and I'm afraid the few words I spoke to him were a death threat, but he was obviously a good friend of yours. I'm sorry."
She swallowed hard. "It wasn't your fault, Kevin. You did... what you could..." The pain was too much, too fresh; Cagalli buried her face in Kevin's shoulder, sobbing.
He held her as she grieved; it had been a long time since he'd grieved for anything, but he still remembered how it felt. And when his parents died, he had had no one to share his pain with, no one to turn to. He would not leave his oldest, best friend in that position.
After a few minutes, she finally pulled back and looked up at him. "Sorry about that, Kevin. It's just..."
Kevin shook his head with a smile. "Nothing to apologize for. He was a friend of yours; it's natural. I was happy to be of service." He reached back into a pocket, withdrew a black silk cloth, and gently wiped her face. "That's what friends are for."
"Thanks." Cagalli looked at the cloth and managed a smile. "I see you haven't quite lost your taste for the finer things."
"That's true; I'll admit that I sometimes miss some of the luxuries of home." He shrugged. "But I don't miss the treatment I escaped when my parents died." Kevin glanced away. "That's another reason I'm glad to have been here for you; I didn't have anyone when my parents were killed. They say there's nothing worse than dying alone, but I've done that, and I say it's worse to survive alone, to not have anyone to turn to in time of grief."
"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. "By the way, where were you that day? You told me you were already in the PLANTs..."
"As it happens..." He paused, uncertain of how she'd react. "I was staying with the Clyne family, in Aprilius."
Cagalli blinked. "You don't mean..."
Kevin nodded. "Yeah. I've known Lacus Clyne for a number of years, and since it was a diplomatic mission, Siegel Clyne hosted me for a few days, until I was kidnapped. That was about a month before he was elected Chairman of the Supreme Council."
"Is there anyone you don't know, Kevin?" she said, shaking her head. "The Desert Tiger, the leader of the PLANTs and his daughter..."
"Also the head of ZAFT, Patrick Zala," he said, voice a tad grim. "That's a tale for another time. I also met Rear Admiral Gerard Garcia, just before Artemis' destruction."
Cagalli frowned. "Garcia? I've heard of him, but I don't think anybody knows exactly how he died. There were no witnesses..."
"There was one," Kevin said softly, and she looked closely at his face. "The one who actually killed him still survives."
She saw it in his eyes. "You killed him? Why?"
He hissed softly, apparently at himself. "Like I told you, tovarisch, I have a great capacity for vengeance. Garcia had taken the ship at gunpoint, hauled the officers away, and apparently had something planned for Kira. Then ZAFT attacked, and I used the distraction to make my way to Artemis' control room, where I killed his men in cold blood, and interrogated Garcia himself."
Garcia's eyes widened in recognition. "You're one of-"
"Yes." In a flash, Blade's gun was out again, and he put a bullet right into Garcia's heart. In the four seconds of life left to the treacherous Eurasian, the soldier spoke quite unflinchingly. "You know too much, Admiral. See you in the next life."
"I promised him," Kevin went on, almost inaudibly, "that I'd let him live if he answered my questions. Then I told him he knew too much, and blew his heart out anyway. Didn't feel even a twinge of guilt; just shot him like an animal."
Cagalli laid a hand on his shoulder. "From what you've told me, Kevin, you weren't exactly in your right mind at the time. And after all you've been through, I don't think anybody would blame you." She cocked her head. "Does anyone else know you did it?"
He cracked a slight smile. "Commander La Flaga is virtually certain of it, Captain Ramius strongly suspects it, and Lieutenant Badgiruel appears to think I made the threat as a bluff, questioned him, and stood back while explosive decompression did the job. She doesn't know me well enough yet -though she should- to know that I'm not that subtle. I've always preferred the immediate, permanent solution."
"Yeah, I remember you didn't waste time in your fencing matches," Cagalli recalled. "You weren't the type to toy with them; that's one thing that made you so famous."
"And that fame has made me very cautious." Kevin glanced around, as if worried about eavesdroppers. "I'm pretty sure La Flaga, at least, saw some of my matches; that's one reason I uncovered the scar. My face has changed just enough since then to conceal my identity from everyone except those like you, who've known me under more than one name." He returned his gaze to her. "That reminds me; did you have something specific in mind when you came in here?"
She nodded. "Yeah; Kira and I are going to Banadiya for some supplies, while a couple of your people and some of ours go meet with a black market weapons dealer." Cagalli glanced away briefly, ashamed. "Kira was right, out in the desert." She shrugged it off. "Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to go with us."
His eyes cooled. "Banadiya, eh?" Kevin pulled on his leather jacket over a flak vest, picked up one of his Colt .45s, and checked the chamber. "I'm in." He slid the weapon into a holster at the small of his back; there was already a bulge under his arm.
Hours later, Ensign Arnold Neumann, the Archangel's chief pilot, brought the jeep to a stop in the middle of Banadiya, looking somewhat uncomfortable out of uniform.
Badgiruel appeared even more so, as Kira, Kevin, and Cagalli got out. "Meet us back here in four hours, Ensign- I mean, Kira," she said. "Good luck. I'm... uh... counting on you..."
"Right."
"Sailors," Kevin snorted. "At least ground-pounders are used to the occasional covert op; I'd wager the Lieutenant would feel more comfortable in a prison camp than out here."
His companions ignored him; Kira was looking about, seemingly out of place himself. "Are you sure this is where the Desert Tiger's headquarters are?" he said. "It looks so... peaceful."
Cagalli sighed. "Come with me."
She led them to a place where there apparently used to be a building, but now had only a burned-out foundation. Beyond it was visible a large mansion... and several TMF/S-3 GINN OCHERs, the desert model.
"See?" she said. "It looks peaceful, but any resistance is dealt with harshly; one group tried to fight them, out in the Talbadiya factory district. Now it's burned-out ruins." She nodded at the building. "That's where the true power here is. It may look peaceful, but there is no doubt the Desert Tiger is in charge."
Kira nodded slowly, while Kevin stroked the rubber grips under his jacket; the place made him very nervous, and he had the uncomfortable feeling they were being watched. "My word..." he murmured. "Andy Waltfeld never did mess around, did he?"
"Come on," Cagalli said. "We're not here for sightseeing."
A couple of hours later, the three sat at a table in an outdoor restaurant; Cagalli was going over the list they'd been given.
"We've gotten everything on here," she said, "except the things that Flay girl asked for. This is ridiculous..."
Kevin paid little attention to his friends' discussion; he happened to agree with Cagalli on the subject of Flay, but he wasn't keeping silent out of long-standing friendship with Kira. He was, rather, exceedingly nervous, surreptitiously glancing in all directions, using his bionic eye to get a closer look at anyone suspicious. He had every reason to be wary: the last time Kevin had been in an outdoor restaurant, a sniper had shot him dead.
He was the first to notice the approach of a stranger with a straw hat, yellow-and-red shirt, and sunglasses. "Excuse me, sir...?"
"I just happened to notice what you ordered," the stranger began, indicating their food, "and it happens that that goes best with..."
Kevin hardly heard what the man was saying, because his empathic sense had suddenly informed him of who he was. Andy! What are you doing here?
He carefully kept all signs of recognition from his face; it was entirely possible that Waltfeld didn't recognize him, and it was better if it stayed that way. He'd make the connection far, far too quickly.
So Kevin kept all his attention on his surroundings while his old mentor rambled on about food, hoping he wouldn't be recognized, until he felt a most peculiar sensation. As if his senses had suddenly been limited, and his strength greatly reduced.
That was when the diagnostics began scrolling behind his eye. Warning. Malfunctions. Electromagnetic sensors: offline.
Sensory boosters: offline.
Nano-repair systems: offline.
Electromagnetic field: offline.
Pharmacopoeia: offline.
Strength enhancements: reduced 50 percent.
ECCM attempting to compensate. Probability of success: 5 percent.
Jammer pack, his mind whispered. But only twelve of them were ever made, and all of them were destroyed in the explosion. Wrong; one went missing a month before that, and Oracle ordered us to forget about it. There were rumors then of his having made deals with Blue Cosmos, because they both wanted war. Solkin syn!
Kevin glanced up at the nearby rooftops, and his mouth tightened in anger and worry, for his friends. "Andy," he said quietly, abandoning the pretense, "if you have people here, I suggest you tell them we're about to be under attack."
All three of his companions looked at him in surprise; Waltfeld because of the warning, and Kira and Cagalli because of that and the revelation of who their chatty tablemate was. "Are you sure, Racher?" the Tiger demanded.
"There's no time to chat, Andy," Blade said tensely, "so let's just get them!"
Kira reached out a restraining hand. "Blade, even if they're out there, they haven't attacked yet. You can't just-"
"I don't care if they haven't attacked yet!" Kevin snarled back. "They're Blue Cosmos, and Blue Cosmos must die!" With more than human strength, he shoved Kira away, and without further ado leapt several meters to the center of the street.
His actions apparently set off the Blue Cosmos attack, as the first rocket quickly lanced out from a rooftop toward him; but he was still in motion, twisting aside and making another, shorter leap forward.
That was when the assault element got into the attack, firing automatic rifles.
Andrew Waltfeld had originally intended to call in his people for support, but now he held back, satisfying himself with knocking over the table... inadvertently dumping various types of sauce on Cagalli, who had just been tackled by Kira. What are you up to, Racher? he wondered. Can you really take them all?
Apparently, he could. Kevin was effortlessly dodging around bullets (in reality, he was reading his assailants muscles, thus determining where the guns would be pointed when they were fired), and he'd drawn his own revolver; his automatic had fallen from his waistband when he jumped, and had been retrieved by Cagalli.
Now he opened fire, dropping six terrorists before running out of ammo; bullets expended, he holstered the gun and continued the engagement hand-to-hand. He began by ducking a rocket, rushing forward, and snapping the man's neck with a leaping kick.
Another raised his assault rifle, only to have a knife appear in his throat; one more suddenly found himself face-to-face with the dark demon Kevin Walker was now doing a very good imitation of, and had his trachea crushed by a powerful punch.
Kevin followed up by leaping sideways, crushing a terrorist's skull with his boot, and rebounding to sandwich another between himself and a wall.
Very quickly, there was only one terrorist left, across the street; he carried a bulky object, and was clearly Kevin's next target. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of the man, raising his hand for a final, killing blow.
That was when a bullet took him in the side, spinning him around. "Think you're tough, huh, Crimson Tiger?" a voice mocked.
Another Blue Cosmos man, heretofore hidden by the shadows, strode up to him, a gloating look on his face. "You'll pay for that," Kevin got out, gritting his teeth in pain.
"Oh, I don't think so... Hydra." The man laughed. "Your kind never were any good without their enhancements, were they? Pathetic, really."
"Good enough to slaughter your entire team, bastard." The fallen super-soldier glared up at him. "For the preservation of our blue and pure world, right?"
"Exactly. Say hello to your teammates, will you? You'll be seeing them soon." The terrorist raised his weapon...
...And his head disappeared into bloody mist as Waltfeld finally opened fire; at the same moment, one of his men killed the other man and destroyed the jammer pack. "The world will only be pure when people like you stop killing people to do it," the Tiger commented. So that's how Racher got his moves, eh? he thought, recalling where he'd heard the name Hydra. Not that I have any intention of telling anyone. If somebody got away from Oracle, good for them.
That was when one other overlooked attacker stepped from around a corner, aiming his weapon at an unsuspecting Waltfeld's back.
Kira spotted him, and made his move: he threw himself forward, snatched up a fallen pistol, and flung it at the man, catching his gun. Before the terrorist could recover, Kira leapt again, kicking him in the chin; his neck snapped with an audible crack.
Kevin hauled himself to his feet, glancing approvingly at the dead body, and the two Coordinators gazed wearily at each other across the carnage which had only two minutes before been a terrorist attack squad.
It quickly became apparent that they had relaxed too soon, as a rocket suddenly arced out and struck Blade in the chest, blowing him backwards and into a wall.
Cagalli instantly raised the gun she'd taken from Kevin and blasted the shooter in half -she made a mental note to ask him just what kind of ammunition he was using- and ran over to his prone body. "Kevin! Kevin, answer me!"
His eyes opened. "Note to self," he said, quite distinctly. "Flak jacket ineffective against rocket-propelled grenade." His eyes rolled back in his head.
"He's alive," Waltfeld observed, kneeling. "I think he'll be fine. Tough customer."
Martin DaCosta ran up and saluted. "Commander Waltfeld! Are you alright, sir?"
Andrew Waltfeld pulled off his sunglasses. "Yep, I'm just fine. These guys saved my life."
Cagalli's eyes widened. "You mean... we really were talking to the Desert Tiger?"
"Come with me," Waltfeld said. "You can get cleaned up at my place. It's the least I can do, after you saved my life."
"But-" Kira protested.
"I won't take no for an answer. Besides, she's got salsa and yogurt sauce all over her, and he's just gotten blown halfway to next week." The Tiger smiled. "I couldn't let you go home like that."
Kevin stirred. "It's okay, Kira," he said thickly, sitting up. "We'll be fine."
"And hello to you, too, Racher," Waltfeld said pleasantly, helping the younger man to his feet. "It's been awhile."
"Yes, it has," he replied, swaying slightly. "You still make coffee?"
Minutes later, with Kevin having convinced his companions, they arrived at Waltfeld's headquarters. "Follow me," he said, leading them in. "Racher, I believe you remember your way around; I suggest you change into something a little less scorched."
Kevin nodded, still dazed. "Yeah... I think I'll do that..." He staggered off.
"Well, well, Andy." A black-haired woman walked over. "So this is the guy you've been talking about?" she asked, looking at Kira.
"That's him." Waltfeld nodded at Cagalli. "How about you get her cleaned up and meet us in a few minutes, Aisha?"
"Sure." Aisha led her into another room.
Kira paused uncertainly. "In here," Waltfeld said from the door to his left.
He entered, looking about in bemusement. Everything that had happened in the last half hour was strange; especially Kevin's incredible speed, and the fact that he and Waltfeld were clearly well-acquainted.
Kira was drawn toward an item displayed an on a side table, something that looked like a fossil. "Evidence Zero One," Waltfeld said. He nodded; he remembered the artifact that had been brought back by George Glenn from one of the moons of Jupiter. "You ever see the real thing?"
"No, sir." He'd heard of it, but...
"I have no idea why they call this thing a Whalestone," the Tiger said, handing Kira cup of coffee. "Does it look like a whale to you?"
"Not really," he said, taking a sip. "So, you and Blade know each other?" he said, giving voice to one of his questions.
"Is that what he's going by these days? When I last saw him, he called himself Racher, the Revenger."
"Yes, I know him," Kevin said, walking in. His blast-scorched street clothes had been replaced by a black suit of military styling, and he seemed to be very comfortable in the formal uniform, as if he'd worn it all his life... "By the way, Andy," he added, "you might as well know it's not Racher. My name is Kevin Walker, these days, but like Kira said, I settle for Blade."
"I see." Waltfeld smiled. "It seems my instruction did you some good. Or so I judge, since you're still alive."
"Yes, it did, for which I am grateful." Kevin settled easily into a chair, himself holding a coffee cup. "It was... two years ago, was it not, when last we saw each other?"
Kira frowned; he'd never heard Blade talk like that before. It was as if donning a formal, high-class outfit had also altered his personality, to something almost... aristocratic. "So how do you know him, Blade?"
Kevin turned his head. "You will recall that about two years ago, I came through this region. I was still new to war, so I sought instruction, and Andrew here obliged me."
"You were, what, fifteen? He stayed about two weeks," Waltfeld said to Kira. "A most attentive student."
"One tries," Kevin said dryly. "Especially when one has Blue Cosmos trying to kill you; I was already a decent fighter, but without your teaching, I likely would not have survived this long."
Kira was getting more confused by the moment; he had known that his friend was a very good actor, and had seen him slip into and out of several other personas, but he was getting the odd impression that even the Blade was a facade, that this aristocrat was the true Kevin Walker. And that made no sense to him. As far as Kira knew, Kevin's parents had been nothing more than government officials. Important ones, perhaps, but not that important.
"Maybe," the Tiger was saying. "But I saw some of your matches; you had the speed and technique to survive on the battlefield."
Matches? Kira thought.
Kevin froze for a moment. "Somehow, Andy, it does not surprise me that you made the connection," he said, sipping his coffee as if nothing had happened. "I would, however, be grateful if you did not mention that to anyone; there are enough people out there who desire my death."
"That's true," Waltfeld acknowledged. "You have more enemies than you know, Blade." He picked up a computer disc and tossed it to him. "Here. It has information I think you'll find useful. Don't thank me; it's possible that I just saved your life, but I've also made it far more complicated."
"That, Andy, does not surprise me in the slightest." He was grimly amused. "Everyone makes my life more complicated, so why not you, too?"
"Back to the point I was making when you entered, Blade," Waltfeld said, nodding at the fossil. "It's interesting how much trouble that thing has caused over the years. After all, it started this whole mess."
Kira blinked. "How so, sir?"
"You don't agree? When you think about it, that's what started this war, if you go back far enough." The Tiger shrugged. "George Glenn's revelations and his creation of the PLANTs to study that rock started the Coordinator boom, and that's what this war is all about, when you get down to it."
"Our genes," Kevin said, nodding. "Perhaps historians will call this the Genetic War, when all is said and done." He chuckled. "Perhaps I will be one of those historians; it would give me an occupation other than war."
Behind them, the door opened, and Aisha led a self-conscious Cagalli in. "Here you are."
Kevin and Kira stood and turned; the Blade nodded approvingly, noting the green dress she now wore. It had been some years since he'd seen his friend in an outfit more appropriate to her rank.
He was amused to note that Kira, on the other hand, was struck dumb, staring at her. His mouth worked a few times, silently, before he managed to speak. "You're... a girl..." he said intelligently.
Embarrassment dissolved into fury. "What did you think I was, huh?" She raised a fist at him.
Kira blushed and raised his hands. "No... I mean..."
Waltfeld, Aisha, and Kevin burst out laughing; the two both stopped, looking embarrassed. "Relax, Cagalli," Kevin said with a smile. "He just hasn't seen you like that before; Kira doesn't know you as well as I do, remember."
As Aisha withdrew, and Kira and Cagalli sat side-by-side on the couch, Waltfeld smiled. "You wear that dress well," he commented. "You look accustomed to such finery."
If you only knew, Andy, Kevin thought.
Cagalli reacted with anger. "Is it your custom to dress people up before you kill them, Waltfeld?" she snarled. "Just another of your affectations?"
"Cagalli..." Kevin cautioned; he liked and respected Andrew Waltfeld, but he did not fully trust him. And his friend was coming all too close to revealing her identity as a member of the Desert Dawn.
"You've got lovely eyes," the Tiger said with a smile. "Something sincere about them. Very lovely eyes..." His expression suddenly hardened. "And too sincere for your own good."
She stood. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Waltfeld also stood. "Are you another one of those who rather perish?" he said softly.
"Nobody... make any... rash moves..." Kevin cautioned. His own hand was straying toward the jacket of his uniform, while Kira and Cagalli retreated toward a wall; her hands on his shoulders as he stood protectively in front of her.
Waltfeld walked over to a small table in the corner. "There are no clear rules for ending a war like this," he said, opening a drawer. "So how do you determine the winners and the losers? At what point do we put an end to it?" He swung a pistol up to point at them. "When every single one of your enemies has been destroyed?"
At the sight of the weapon, Kevin flung himself across the room, landing in a roll and coming up beside Kira, revolver in hand. "I would not do that, Andy," he said softly. "If I shoot you with this, it will detonate, cleanly splitting your spine in two."
"I wouldn't, either," Waltfeld replied, turning his attention to Kira. "I wouldn't try anything rash; we're all Coordinators here, like you. Even if you do have berserker capabilities, there's no way you'll get past all of us."
Cagalli's eyes widened, and she stared at Kira. "What? You're a...?"
"Some may believe it's a Natural piloting that mobile suit, but I'm not so credulous," the Tiger said. "I have no idea what your reasons are for deciding to fight against your own people, and it doesn't really matter." His aim was unwavering. "The fact is that we are enemies, to the bitter end. It can be no other way." Abruptly, he raised the gun and set it aside. "It almost makes you wonder if there's any other way but for one of us to die," he said with a smile.
Cagalli frowned, suspicious. "You're letting us go?"
"We're not on the battlefield," Waltfeld said. "Today, we have met as fellow warriors; I wouldn't kill you here. Besides, I suspect your friend there would make good on his threat, and while I don't believe he could get all of us, that wouldn't much matter to me, now would it?"
Aisha reentered, showing them out. "It is with great regret," Kevin said on his way out, "that I will face you again, Andy. I have no wish to fight you. But it seems we have no choice. It is our Fate."
"See you on the battlefield," Waltfeld called after them.
Some hours later, after returning to the Archangel, Kevin wandered into the hanger and stopped dead in his tracks. "What the blazes happened in here?" The Strike was collapsed on the deck, with the walkway normally leading to its hatch twisted and broken.
"That Sai kid went and lost his mind, as near as we can tell," Murdoch said. "Snuck in here and climbed into the Strike. He couldn't do much with it, though; just kinda flailed around until he collapsed, and starting ranting about it not being fair, whatever that means." He shrugged. "Nobody was hurt, but he's gonna be in the brig for the next week."
Kevin let out a breath, staring at the twisted metal. "I'll say he lost his mind; I even saw it coming, but I never expected this." He shook his head. "I knew that he was a little unstable ever since learning that Flay had dumped him for Kira, but it never occurred to me that he might pull a stunt like this."
"Yeah, well, none of us did." Murdoch cocked his head. "So how'd your trip to Banadiya go?"
"Confusing, but informative." He stroked the grips of his pistol. "I'm gonna have to make a return trip soon. I have... unfinished business to take care of."
Indeed he did; the disc Waltfeld had tossed him told Kevin the exact whereabouts of CARDINAL, and that was an account he intended to balance very soon.
The other piece of information had shocked and angered him; he did indeed have more enemies than he'd thought, and this one was the most surprising yet. Kevin wasn't sure what he was going to do about it yet, but he knew he had to be more cautious than ever.
Author's note: Kevin Walker has had a run-in with Blue Cosmos, and virtually annihilated the cell, despite being shot and nearly blown up, along with having his augmentation disabled; and now there are even darker hints of who and what Oracle was dealing with before the end.
He has also met his mentor once again, and nearly had to kill him; and what does the Desert Tiger's data portend?
Shinji Ikari, while you may have a point, I should also point out that Kira was generalizing some; after all, Kevin Walker is only one out of dozens of people he currently has contact with. Also, Kira's emotional state has only started going downhill since Yzak's attack on the shuttle in orbit, and he's hardly had a chance to speak with Kevin since then. And, yes, Kevin was put a tad off-balance by the revelation regarding Flay; combined, I would think it would preclude his feeling too bad about it.
As to your other point, I believe what I said was that Chapter 11 was the last chapter that to be completely rewritten; I have quite a few others that merely need tweaking, based on the changes to the first eleven chapters and, of course, reader feedback. You can expect updates to be just as fast as usual.
Arekuruu-inabikari-no-She, I will say this about the source material for Kevin's Gundam: the word "wing" is used rather frequently.
As regards your other question: yes, the next story will be centered around another OC (I don't think I've ever written a story that doesn't). As to a summary…
It will focus on a young ZAFT ace pilot known as the Grimaldi Falcon, who led a team nicknamed the "Gray Demons", until being virtually wiped out at Endymion Crater. Now, having deserted for reasons unknown, he is residing safely away from the war in Heliopolis, when his old comrade Rau Le Creuset and perennial rival Mu La Flaga arrive during the attack; before long, the Grimaldi Falcon is drawn back into the war, this time fighting against ZAFT, yet still professing loyalty to the PLANTs; something which is complicated by the fact that his sister is an officer aboard the Archangel.
That's pretty much it in a nutshell; the actual story will, of course, be far more complicated; and, as seems to have become a habit with me, the Falcon's past is ambiguous. Anyway, look for it within a few days of Brothers in Arms being finished; I should have a chapter or two ready by then. The tentative -but probably final- title is "Birds of a Feather", a title which will make a certain amount of sense after certain things are revealed about Falcon, early in the story (as you may have figured, I already have the story well thought-out). So, let me know what you think of the idea.
I think that's everything that needs to be said. Read and let me know what you think. -Solid Shark