I don't own anything except Ken DiFalco, his team, and Sophia DiFalco

Earth Orbit, Atmospheric Reentry
It was getting just a little warm in the Raptor's cockpit.

"Is it just me," Sophia muttered, glaring at her display, "or is it getting just a little too warm in here?"

"It's not just you," Falcon replied absently, twitching the machine's course. "As a matter of fact, if the temperature continues to rise at this rate, it will be too hot for a Natural to survive in under two minutes."

She winced. "That's comforting. You do realize that I'm a Natural, don't you? Which means, unless we figure something out, I'll, uh..."

"The thought had crossed my mind," he said calmly. "You designed this thing; got any bright ideas on how to keep us from being burnt to a crisp?"

"I'm working on it," Sophia snapped back. "Well, first of all, it has better cooling systems than the Strike; and if we can augment them from spare energy not being used elsewhere..."

"Dump all weapon power into cooling," Falcon suggested. "Same for enemy detection and fire control; we won't be needing them just now." He thought for a moment. "Cut off cockpit pressurization; oxygen, in the time involved, will only become a problem if it ignites."

"You know, you're just a fount of optimism, you know that?" Nonetheless, she did as her brother suggested. "You've done this kind of thing before?"

He shook his head. "No; but Sparky mentioned he did something similar at Endymion, when the Cyclops went off." His eye roved over the displays, his hands making occasional, minute changes to their descent angle. "You do your job, and I'll get us down in one piece, Kestrel."

"Right..."

One of the Raptor's radio monitors suddenly lit with Miriallia's face. "Falcon!" she called. "Are you two all right?"

"For now," Falcon responded; his sister was too busy. "If we can keep the cooling systems working, we'll make it; I've never flown a mobile suit from orbit to ground before, but I think I can handle it." He tilted his head. "Where's the Strike?"

Her face became drawn. "Close by; but we can't get any response from him, and his descent angle differs from the Archangel's. Since the Strike's thrusters weren't meant for reentry orbit corrections, they don't have the power to reach us... Wait a second."

Mir turned away, apparently listening to something on the Bridge, and Falcon turned his attention back to keeping himself and his sister alive.

Archangel, Bridge
"The Strike's descent angle differs from the ship," Natarle reported, echoing what Mir had just told Falcon. "We're still heading for Alaska, but he isn't."

"Tell him to move closer," Murrue ordered.

The combat commander shook her head. "We can't get a response from him, Ma'am; and even if we could, the Strike's thrusters aren't powerful enough to overcome his inertia."

The Captain cursed. Without Kira and the Strike, we've no chance at all, even with Falcon and Sophia... and their survival is less than certain right now. She thought furiously. Either we make it to Alaska, and lose the Strike... or change course to rendezvous with Kira, and miss Alaska...

There wasn't any real choice, of course. "Change course," she ordered. "Get us closer to the Strike!"

"But Captain," Neumann protested, "then the Archangel will also miss her descent point!"

"We don't have a choice; if we lose the Strike, every sacrifice made to get us here will have been for nothing."

"Concur," Falcon said over the radio. "More importantly, Lesson Seven: Leave no one behind. Never abandon your own." His eye was very intense. "And with Kira's help, we have at least twice as great a chance of reaching Alaska once we ground." On the monitor, his gaze went to Neumann. "Any other objections, Chief?"

Faced with two irritated superior officers, Neumann did not hesitate any longer. Instead, he obediently guided Archangel toward Strike's course, neatly slipping beneath the wayward mobile suit.

Clearly, Kira was at least partially conscious; the Strike, seeing the ship come beneath it, flipped end for end, first using its shield to fend off some of the atmospheric friction, then flipping again to land on its feet in a kneeling position on the Archangel's rear deck.

"The Strike has landed on the ship," Chandra reported, relief evident in his voice.

Murrue slumped in her chair. "Good." She looked up at Falcon's image. "Falcon, what about you? Can Raptor make the necessary course changes?"

He glanced over his shoulder at the furiously-typing Victorian Kestrel. "According to Sophia, we can; apparently, the Death Blossoms' thrusters can give us an added boost, just enough to get us on course. Better be ready to pick us afterwards, though, because after that we'll have just one more good boost left; just enough to slow us down to a -relatively- safe landing... I hope."

He's just a fount of optimism today, Murrue thought, unconsciously echoing her friend's earlier words. "All right; we'll try to land as close to you as possible, for immediate pickup... wherever it is that we're going."

"Gracias," Falcon replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be a little busy for the next few minutes..."

Sky Above Libyan Desert, African Community
"Must go slower," Falcon muttered to himself, wrestling with his flight controls. "Must go slower."

Sophia glanced up from her own efforts. "What was that, Falcon?"

"Nothing." It would take too long to explain; and besides, he wasn't sure how she'd react to the notion of him paraphrasing the words of a mathematician being chased by a Tyrannosaurus Rex. She knows I'm an old movie buff -or was, at least- but another crack like that and I might break my cover...

Falcon shook himself. There was no time for such thoughts, not when he had the ground rushing up at him at far too many meters per seconds for comfort. Get out of this alive, then laugh yourself silly.

"Coming up on retro burn, Falcon," Sophia warned. "You're only gonna have one burst of thrust before we lose power, so make it count."

"Roger." Had this been a space maneuver of some kind, he might have been annoyed by her warning; in atmosphere, however, he was well aware that she had the edge in knowledge and experience. "Begin countdown to retro burn."

"Copy that. Thirty seconds to braking maneuver." The Kestrel began counting under her breath, keeping a close eye on the timer display on his gunnery console. "Fifteen... ten... five... four... three... two... one... Now!"

Falcon reacted instantly, diverting energy from the now-unnecessary cooling systems to the main thrusters, while shunting the rest into the Death Blossoms and simultaneously shoving the vernier control peddle to the cockpit deck. "Full reverse thrust," he grunted, G forces forcing him into the seat of his chair. "Ten seconds to touchdown."

Sophia grunted an acknowledgment. She wasn't quite as uncomfortable as her brother -he experienced G forces during tight maneuvers in space, but it wasn't as bad as what she'd routinely endured in the cockpit of a fighter. On the other hand, neither of them had ever experienced what happened next.

Though slowed sufficiently to avoid hitting at lethal velocities, Raptor still impacted upon the desert sand at high velocity, knocking the wind out of them and nearly knocking them unconscious.

"Oh, my aching... argh..." Sophia shook her head, trying to clear it. "Falcon," she said, slowly, painfully, "I never, ever wanna try that again..."

"Agreed..." Falcon had been through some tough scrapes before, but the only one he could think of that surpassed this was the conclusion of the Battle of Endymion, and he hadn't even been conscious for that. "I wholeheartedly concur..."

He hadn't even realized that Archangel had also touched down until Mir's face appeared on his screen. "Falcon?" she called. "You there?"

The pilot wearily raised his head. "Yeah, Miriallia, I'm here; and I think we're even both alive, though I'm not entirely sure about that yet..."

She blinked, unsure if he was actually cracking a joke. "Uh... right... Anyway, Falcon, your signal's strong, but for some reason we don't have a visual on you. Can you tell why?"

Falcon raised his eyebrows, puzzled, but Sophia had the answer. "That, Crewman," she replied, "would be because our 'soft' landing took us right into a sand dune. Better tell Murdoch he'll need to dig us out."

"Already on the way, Ma'am." Mir hesitated. "Uh, it might be a good idea if you hurried, Falcon; we still haven't gotten a response from Kira, and since you're in the best position to know about Coordinator medical care..."

"Understood," Falcon replied. "As soon as they did us out, I'll be there. Infirmary, or is he still in the cockpit?"

"He's still in the cockpit, but he'll probably be in the Infirmary by the time you get aboard."

"Roger that."

Archangel, Hangar
Newly-promoted Chief Petty Officer Kojiro Murdoch shook his head, staring at the sand-covered mobile suit his people had just brought back aboard. "Man," he muttered. "It's gettin' sand all over the deck, and it'll take hours to clean the joints out... what I wouldn't give for that thing to have a scale system..."

The hatch popped open, and Falcon and Sophia swiftly descended to the deck, looking weary; something the mechanic had never seen before in the one-eyed pilot.

What surprised Murdoch even more, given their well-known enmity of late, was when Falcon turned to his sister and actually stuck out his hand. "You did good up there, sis," he said quietly. "I think I can honestly say it was good to fly with you."

Sophia blinked in surprise fully as great as that of the onlookers, then smiled. "So you'd pick me for you team, if you were rebuilding it?"

"No," he said instantly; but the faintest trace of amusement appeared on his face. "But that's because you're a mobile armor pilot, and the Gray Demons flew mobile suits."

She took the hand. "Thanks, Falcon."

"Don't thank me; it was your skills." Falcon pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his brown hair. "I'd better get going; if Kira's in bad shape, so are we."

The two went their separate ways, while Murdoch exchanged an incredulous glance with his people. "Did we just see that?" he asked of no one in particular.

"Apparently, you did," Mu said, coming up behind him. "Don't ask me; I don't understand it either. Maybe it's because she turned out to be a pilot -an ace, even- and Falcon respects that. Who knows." He scratched his head. "But speaking of who knows what, I need to go see Falcon; something we need to talk about."

He left, and the mechanics glanced at each other, just as puzzled as ever.

"Alright," Murdoch said finally, "back to work, you grease monkeys; at least machines are predictable, huh?"

There was a general murmur of agreement with the sentiment... and the sentiment that all pilots were completely and totally out of their minds.

Archangel, Infirmary
They'd gotten Kira out of his flightsuit, and he lay unconscious on one of the Infirmary beds when Falcon entered; the only other person was present was the ship's doctor, who had refused entrance to anyone else until it was determined exactly what was wrong with the pilot.

"Ah, Commander," Doctor Calvin Hibson greeted. "I'm glad you came so quickly."

"He's a pilot in need, and a friend," Falcon said simply. "I'll do what I can, Doc."

Hibson handed him a clipboard holding the requisite medical information. "Here's what we have so far," he said. "Elevated temperature, high fever, a few other problems that I think are minor, but with a Coordinator I'm not sure..."

Falcon quickly flipped through the data, occasionally nodding to himself. "You're aware that Coordinators don't get fatal infections, correct?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes; though I wasn't entirely sure, since I've never before examined a Coordinator."

"It's true," the pilot confirmed absently. "Fortunately; I caught the Plague a few years back, while on a visit to Earth."

Hibson winced. "Bubonic?"

"Worse. Pneumonic."

He flinched at that; pneumonic plague had a higher fatality rate than even its cousin Bubonic, more commonly known as the Black Death. "Frankly, Commander, I'm glad I was not your physician at the time."

"Yeah, well, my doctor wasn't happy, either. Could be worse; one of my old teammates once got rabies, and didn't realize it in time for the vaccine." Falcon glanced up briefly. "As you're no doubt aware, unless you get the vaccine in time, rabies is guaranteed fatal for Naturals. No exceptions. As it was, Alicia was out of action for awhile." He set aside the clipboard. "I don't think you need to worry about Kira; he's got a high fever simply from reentry heat -which would have killed you, by the way; it was well beyond tolerances for a Natural- and the battle stress also seems to have contributed somewhat. All you can really do is give him plenty of liquids and try to bring his body temperature down."

Hibson nodded. "Thank you, Commander." He tilted his head. "Are you all right? I gather you went through reentry in a mobile suit, as well..."

"I'm fine, Doc; Sophia's brainchild has somewhat better cooling systems than the Strike." The pilot rubbed his eyepatch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go change out of this flightsuit."

Archangel, Corridor
Falcon had barely changed back into uniform -standard Earth Forces white now, instead of the volunteer blue- and trench coat when Mu caught up with him in the corridor outside his quarters. "Hey, Falcon, you got a minute?"

The one-eyed pilot looked at his older brother. "Sure, Mu. Something on your mind?"

"You could say that." Mu scratched his head. "You seem to be pretty experienced with unusual things happening in combat, so maybe you can explain something for me." He hesitated. "You, uh, remember when the Gamow made her suicide run against the Menelaos? And I went after her, thinking maybe I could somehow stop an escort ship all by myself?"

"Yeah," Falcon said, nodding. "I didn't think you could actually succeed, but I understood what you were trying to do. Why?"

"Because something happened to me out there." Mu paused, looking for the right words to describe it. "It was like... like my mind suddenly went really clear; and everything seemed almost... sluggish, like the world had gone into slow motion. I... I don't know what happened out there, but... I thought maybe...?"

His brother nodded again. "I know exactly what you're talking about, Mu." Falcon leaned against the bulkhead. "In ZAFT, they call it the Berserker state; the few pilots who possess it are among the most feared on the battlefield."

"Berserker state?" Mu frowned. "So, they don't actually know anything about how it works?"

"No, they don't." A twitch that might be called a smile. "But, as it happens, I do." He closed his eye, thinking. "It's called the SEED Factor," he said slowly. "Superior Evolutionary Element Destined-Factor. It's a controversial theory, that suggests this theoretical SEED Factor is something possessed by a small number of individuals, which dictates the next phase of evolution. It's supposedly not affected by whether one is a Natural or a Coordinator; theoretically, either could possess the SEED. Some say the SEED is what produces the Berserker state."

The Hawk's eyes narrowed. "You said it's a controversial theory; which means that, as far as most scientists are concerned, it's unproven?" He received a nod, and his gaze narrowed even farther. "But you know more than they do, don't you?"

"It's not unproven, Mu," Falcon said simply. "Oh, perhaps not in the scientific sense where there is absolutely no way to deny the conclusion; but it's been proven to my satisfaction, and frankly, I think I'm in a better position to know than the egghead professor types who never set foot outside the lab or university. I've seen it before; and so have you, amigo."

Mu slowly nodded. "You mean Kira, don't you? That time, just before we reached the rendezvous with the Eighth Fleet."

"Yes."

He glanced at the Grimaldi Falcon sidelong. "You'd seen it even before that, though, hadn't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't know so much about it."

Falcon nodded calmly. "View the battle tapes of the Bloody Valentine sometime, Mu; maybe you'll spot what I'm talking about."

Before Mu could question him any further, Falcon began to leave, clearly indicating he wasn't inclined to discuss it any further. "Wait, Falcon," he called after him. "The Captain wants to see you."

The one-eyed pilot nodded wearily. "A soldier's job is never done, I suppose. I'm on my way."

Archangel, Captain's Office
"Sorry to call you in so soon, Falcon," Murrue apologized when Falcon entered with Mu. "I know you must be tired; but we need to get a handle on the situation we find ourselves in."

He nodded. "I understand; don't worry, I was worse off after the battles at L4, around Yggdrasil." He glanced at the wall map. "So, do we at least know where we are?"

Mu walked over to the map. "We do," he replied. "Unfortunately, it's just about the worst possible place right now. Alaska is over here, whereas we-" he tapped another spot "-are here, in the Libyan desert. Right in the middle of ZAFT-controlled territory."

"And that location is why we need you," Murrue continued. "I understand that last year, after Jachin, you came through this region on a good-will tour?"

Falcon nodded. "Yeah; if memory serves, we're not too far from a town called Tassil; from what I heard later, there are a number of resistance groups operating out of there." He raised an eyebrow. "So, what does that have to do with me?"

"According to Alliance Intelligence," Mu said, "you did some cross-training in recon operations; is that right?"

"Yeah," the pilot admitted. "So?"

"We'd like you to take a look around the neighboring areas," Murrue answered. "Tassil in particular; possibly Banadiya, as well."

"Tassil, certainly. Banadiya, on the other hand, might not be a good idea."

It was Mu's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

Falcon glanced at him. "It may have slipped your notice, but Andrew Waltfeld's headquarters are in Banadiya; and not only are my features distinctive, but the Desert Tiger and I have met before. Do you really want me to risk revealing Archangel's presence like that?"

The Hawk grimaced. "Good point."

"Still," Murrue persisted, "just gathering intelligence from Tassil could be invaluable. Can you do it?"

Falcon shrugged. Why not? I can always sleep through the next battle; not like there are many pilots who are a match for me anyway... or Kira, for that matter. "Yeah, I think I can probably manage it. I'll leave as soon as I get some gear together."

She frowned. "Don't you want to get some rest first?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Murrue, this is war. I'm used to dealing with sleep deprivation. I'll sleep when there's peace again."

Archangel, Corridor
Newly-minted Crewman 2nd Class Flay Allster was heading down the ship's corridors toward the Infirmary, to visit Kira, when she caught sight of the one-eyed pilot.

He appeared to be going about his own business, whatever it might have been, while taking no notice of her; but Flay tensed slightly anyway. It's him... she thought. That ZAFT pilot; the one who trained my father's murderer. Disgust and hatred filled her at the sight of him... as well as a trace of apprehension. I can use Kira for my revenge; but that bastard might ruin everything. He has too much influence over Kira; I'll have to be careful. If he notices anything, and tries to do something about it...

She wondered if she might be able to... deal with the problem somehow. She hated the very sight of him -whatever he might claim, she didn't believe he'd truly left ZAFT, not after he stood by and let her father die- but she wasn't crazy enough to try attacking him directly. From the rumors she'd heard, the sword hidden under his trench coat was anything but for show, and she knew as well as anyone what Coordinators were capable of.

Still, the opportunity might someday arise; and if it did, Flay wouldn't hesitate to act on it.

Archangel, Hangar
When Falcon stepped into the hangar -near the ship's jeeps- he was not, for the first time since coming aboard, wearing his eyepatch. Instead, he had on a pair of mirrored sunglasses, the better to disguise his identity, should he run into anyway familiar.

Murdoch was there to meet him. "Okay, Commander, we got one of the jeeps outfitted for you," he said, indicating the vehicle in question. "Got a full tank, and some equipment Commander La Flaga thought you might need for... whatever it is you're up to."

Falcon nodded, examining the cargo. It wasn't much; mostly various portable detection equipment. "No guns," he commented.

The chief smirked. "Yeah, well, the Commander said you'd be liable to shoot your own foot off, so..."

"Hah," the pilot said tonelessly. "I said I didn't like guns; didn't say I didn't know how to use 'em. Still, I wouldn't want them anyway. Too noisy for a mission like this."

Murdoch tilted his head. "You, uh, do know what a silencer is, don't you?"

"Suppressor," Falcon corrected. "It suppresses sound, it doesn't silence it, and no suppressor is perfect. Besides, this run isn't supposed to involve any rough stuff at all."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say no plan survives contact with the enemy."

"I know, Chief," he said, almost grimly. "I know. If they did, I wouldn't be here; I'd still be in the PLANTs, and you'd probably be trying to find a way to kill me."

Murdoch snorted. "Then here's to plans that don't survive contact with the enemy."

Archangel, Infirmary
"So how is he, Doctor?" Sai asked. He, along with Mir, Tolle, and Kuzzey, were clustered by the Infirmary's hatch, while Flay kept watch over Kira.

"He's gonna make it, right?" Mir said anxiously.

Hibson waved a hand. "Oh, don't worry so much. According to Commander DiFalco, he should recover quite nicely, and quickly. The heat from reentry dehydrated him, certainly, and gave him a high fever -not to mention knocking him unconscious- but to a Coordinator, it's not that big a deal. Not minor, certainly, but also not terribly life-threatening."

Tolle sighed in relief. "That's good to hear; I was really worried."

"So how hot did it get in the Strike's cockpit?" Kuzzey wanted to know. "If it was hot enough to knock Kira out..."

"I don't know exactly how warm it got," Hibson admitted, "since it had cooled significantly by the time anyone could get inside, but I can assure you no Natural could have survived it. Were it not for Commander DiFalco's piloting, and Lieutenant Commander DiFalco's ingenuity, I daresay we'd have been down an officer or two from Raptor's reentry." He smiled. "So no, you needn't worry too much about Ensign Yamato. For now, all we can really do is give him plenty of liquids, and try to lower his body temperature."

"Okay..." Tolle scratched his head. "But how did Kira manage to survive? I mean, I know Coordinators have faster reflexes and all, but he doesn't look that different from us..."

The doctor shook his head. "I know he looks just like the rest of us, but looks can be deceiving. His internal capabilities are completely different from ours. Being a Coordinator is more than merely thinking and learning faster; for example, he won't catch deadly diseases -Commander DiFalco informed me that he once had a case of pneumonic plague- so, while he may occasionally get sick, it would be more of a danger to us than to him. Oh, a bullet might do it, but certainly not this."

The Archangel's copilot looked satisfied -mostly- by that response, as did his fellows... except for Mir, who turned to watch Flay with narrowed eyes. Something isn't right here, she thought. When he gets back, I'd better warn Falcon that I think Flay is up to something again...

Tassil, African Community
Falcon had left his transportation beyond the small town's edge, and now he ghosted along, making use of half-remembered recon training. His gray trench coat helped; the notion that black was the best camouflage at night was a common misconception. It created essentially a moving part of the shadows, while gray blended with the darkness. If he was careful, he was practically invisible.

He had little interest in the town itself; he knew resistance fighters lived there, but he doubted they were stupid enough to leave evidence of their presence in Tassil proper. No, Falcon was more interested in the cave system he remembered, just outside. It would make a perfect weapons cache for a canny guerrilla fighter.

Acting on these suspicions, the pilot slipped through the darkness to the mouth of one of the caves, and cautiously entered. If I'm discovered at all, it will be once I'm inside, he thought. It can't be helped, though; the resistance fighters may prove an asset to us... but there's little point in working with them unless they have the equipment to at least make a dent in the enemy.

Harsh, perhaps, but Falcon was a very pragmatic man; and he had long ago subordinated everything to his cause... including his life. Of course, he thought to himself, if I do die in the pursuit of the plan, at least I will not have died in vain... and I think Kira could take my place, if he needed to.

The pilot shook his head, banishing such thoughts, and returned his full attention to his mission.

Even as the commando-pilot went about his recon mission, three people were approaching the cave; they all belonged to the resistance group known as the Desert Dawn. Foremost among them was Cagalli Yula, the girl Falcon had met years before, on the global networks; with her was Kisaka, her huge bodyguard, and a young man named Ahmed.

None of them had any idea anyone was in the weapons cache until Ahmed noticed a faint flash of light within; though he could not know it, it was light from one of their own flashlights reflected off of Falcon's sunglasses. "Somebody's in there," he whispered.

Kisaka tensed. "You're sure?"

"Unless somebody left the lights on in there or something." Ahmed shook his head. "No, I think we've got an intruder." Typically, for a kid his age, he sounded excited by the prospect.

Cagalli frowned. "Let's check it out... carefully."

Kisaka considered telling her to stay back, but decided there was no point. He could try to protect her, but trying to keep her out of harm's way entirely was a futile endeavor. "Be careful, Cagalli," he warned.

"I know, Kisaka."

The three, following the footprints left in the sand, crept inside, expecting to see the intruder attack them at any moment. Probably ZAFT, Cagalli thought. Nobody else would be sneaking around like this... which means we can't let him leave.

Ahmed was the first to catch sight of the silhouette, and the assault rifle he carried snapped up to cover it. "Freeze!" he hissed.

The figure in the gray trench coat did exactly that, though his right hand seemed to be inside his coat. "Are you going to shoot me?" he asked softly.

Kisaka inhaled sharply. "You!"

The intruder didn't bother to turn. "Ledonir Kisaka, isn't it? It's been awhile."

Now Cagalli, too, recognized the voice. "You're Falcon," she whispered. "The one who got me that information... What are you doing here?" She took a step forward.

"Careful, Cagalli," Kisaka warned once again. "He's not who you think he is. He's not just a hacker..."

"No," Falcon agreed. "Though you may be interested to know that I'm no longer ZAFT, either."

Cagalli turned to Kisaka. "ZAFT? What's going on here?"

"I'm surprised you didn't recognize me, Miss Yula," the pilot went on. "My face is well-known by now. Who hasn't heard of the Grimaldi Falcon?"

That did it. She angrily stalked toward him, ignoring Kisaka's wince. "You bastard!" she hissed, grabbing his shoulder. "You helped me get the information, but you were really just helping them destroy Heliopolis-"

Falcon turned. "Hardly," he said calmly. "As a matter of fact, within six hours of our meeting, I killed two GINN pilots, old comrades of mine. The ZAFT attack was not something I'd expected; and it did not fit with my plans at all. As I told you when you contacted me, I was merely helping out an old acquaintance." He reached out and lightly gripped her chin. "And remember: you owe me."

"He's probably telling the truth, Cagalli," Kisaka said unwillingly. "It's been known for months that the Grimaldi Falcon was MIA..."

Cagalli snorted, and angrily brushed Falcon's hand away. "If you betrayed your own comrades, then you're even worse than I thought." She stepped away... which just happened to clear Ahmed's field of fire.

The youth opened up with his rifle, expecting to thoroughly perforate the intruder, whoever he might be and whatever his actual intentions were. Falcon, however, had been expecting something of the sort, and his right hand swept out of his coat, katana gripped in his fingers.

The blade spun around, catching the bullets and sending them ricocheting throughout the cave; then, before Ahmed could recover from the shock, Falcon took several steps toward him, sliced off the barrel of his assault rifle, and pinned him to the wall with a hand on his neck.

"That wasn't very smart," he whispered, holding the blade's tip very close to Ahmed's throat. "I don't like guns; and I don't recall doing anything to provoke you shooting at me."

"Now you have," Cagalli snarled, raising her own sidearm. "Let him go, or I'll shoot!"

The one-eyed pilot shook his head. "Come now, Miss Yula; you don't actually expect that to work, do you? I can read the tiniest changes to your muscles' positions, and through that, I can tell where you're going to fire, and when." He abruptly released Ahmed, and sheathed his blade. "You know, don't you, that I only made a hostile move after he tried to fill me full of holes."

Kisaka placed a hand on his charge's shoulder. "Put it away, Cagalli. Let's at least hear what he has to say first." He half-smiled. "And if we don't like it, we can always kill him afterward; I doubt he can handle more than one or two sources of fire at once."

Falcon raised an eyebrow. "You know a good deal more than I'd expect, Mr. Kisaka," he murmured. Or should I say... "Colonel"? I don't what an Orb Army Airborne colonel is doing here, but don't think I've forgotten our last meeting...

"So," the bodyguard began, "you were saying that you're no longer with ZAFT?"

A calm nod. "That's right. I deserted last September, following a... difference of opinion with Patrick, regarding the prosecution of the war against Earth. Suffice it to say that, following the Bloody Valentine, we had differing goals in this war. His is the destruction of all Naturals."

"And yours?" Cagalli challenged. The casual way the man called Zala by his first name made her even more suspicious. "You're going to tell me that wasn't your goal, too? They say you're a patriot, and you expect us to believe you betrayed the PLANTs?"

He looked at her coldly. "I don't recall saying I'd betrayed the PLANTs, Miss Yula. I betrayed ZAFT, yes; a regrettable necessity, which may yet get me killed. But even now, my goal is the protection of the PLANTs, same as Patrick. Where we differ is how to accomplish that; he believes the only way we'll ever be safe is if we commit genocide, whereas I hold that simply smashing the Earth Forces every time they attack until they realize it's futile is a better option."

Kisaka tilted his head. "So you're not just sitting around hoping that cooler heads will prevail?"

"Kisaka, I gave up 'hoping that cooler heads would prevail' the day I first flew in combat, during the blockade." Falcon rubbed the portion of his scar that could be seen beyond the sunglasses. "I'm afraid that I have little faith in the human race in general; so no, I'm not just going to sit by and content myself with wishful thinking. I have to act... and I may be the only one who can."

Cagalli snorted. "That's what I call ego. You really think you can end this war by yourself?"

"Not quite," he conceded. "But I have a better shot than anyone else... and I don't see anyone else trying to end it without genocide against one side or the other."

Kisaka gave him a speculative look. "They say that Secretary-General Olbani is working on a compromise plan..."

"Which will never be accepted by the Supreme Council." Falcon shook his head. "I've been out of touch a few months, Kisaka, but I stood in the shadows during too many Council meetings to believe otherwise. The current Council almost certainly wouldn't ratify it; and come April, I know they won't." His fist clenched. "Patrick is almost certain to supplant Chairman Clyne in the next election, which will be an utter disaster."

Another snort from Cagalli. "This is all very interesting; but what I'd like to know is what you're doing in one of our weapons' caches to begin with."

"I'm on a mission," he said simply. "Directly related to you, as a matter of fact, but the scope of my intentions are slightly broader than I think Murrue had in mind."

"'Murrue'?" Ahmed questioned.

"Captain Murrue Ramius, Earth Forces Eighth Fleet, commanding a certain mobile assault ship that you might be familiar with." Falcon looked straight at Cagalli. "Or have you forgotten about the Archangel?"

She inhaled sharply. "You've joined the Earth Forces? And that ship... is here?"

"Yes and yes," he replied. "Though I'm with the Earth Forces solely out of convenience; my plans will have a measurably greater chance of success under the current circumstances." He shrugged. "Now, as I was saying, my mission was to investigate Tassil, to evaluate the situation. However, being a full commander, I have a certain amount of initiative to exercise, so I decided to also look into whether or not any of the resistance groups I knew to be in the area could be of any assistance to us."

Ahmed's eyes narrowed, as did Cagalli's. "And just what makes you think we'd be inclined to help the Earth Forces in the first place?" she asked.

"Mutual gain," the pilot replied. "I wouldn't expect you to aid the Earth Forces at large, anyway; the Archangel, on the other hand, is a very different story. They're not like the rest of EAF. My point, however, is that you're no happier with ZAFT's presence than we are; and any blow we struck against them would be a blow in your favor, as well." He twitched his shoulders. "As I said, mutual gain. I doubt I'd trust anything other than enlightened self-interest at this point, anyway."

Kisaka gave the ace a shrewd look. "You make a convincing argument, I'll grant. Enough of one that I think this should be discussed with the rest of the group." He looked at the girl. "Cagalli?"

Cagalli reluctantly nodded. "I agree." In her case, though, it was less what Falcon said now than what she remembered of their long-ago discussions over the global networks. What he said now was consistent with what he'd said then, which lent him at least some credibility. "So, Mr. Grimaldi Falcon, do you have a name?"

"Commander Ken DiFalco," he replied. "But people call me Falcon." He looked over at Kisaka. "You do realize I'm not empowered to make any offers at this point."

The bodyguard smiled slightly. "If you'd said you were, I wouldn't have trusted you even this far. I am curious, however, that you would so openly admit that your ship is here."

Falcon shrugged. "One: it's fairly I obvious that it's somewhere, see I'm here; and Miss Yula here probably wouldn't find it very difficult to figure out what ship, given the... circumstances surrounding our last meeting. Two: I didn't tell you where it is."

Kisaka slowly shook his head. "You haven't changed one bit, Commander."

Archangel, Infirmary
Kira was not quite awake, yet no longer quite asleep. Images and voices went through his mind; he someone recalled that most of them were from a recent battle, including biting words between a pair of swordsmen whom he vaguely recalled had been trying to kill each other for over a year.

Other sounds seemed to be more recent, and more concerned about him; something about a fever having finally gone down, he thought. "He should be waking up soon," he heard.

At last, Kira's eyes opened. "I'm awake," he managed. "What... happened...?"

The first thing he saw was Flay's concerned face above him. "Kira! I'm so glad you're awake. We were so worried..."

He tried to sit up. "Where am I, Flay?"

She quickly, gently, pushed him back down. "Don't try to sit up so soon," she warned. "You're still in the Infirmary; and you were unconscious for several hours. But you're going to be just fine, now; the doctor says you're recovering well."

Kira managed a weary nod. "I see." It was about then that he noticed the presence of gravity. "So we must have landed safely..."

Flay nodded. "We're on Earth, in the middle of the Sahara; we landed sometime last night. How do you feel?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Been better," he admitted. He remembered something else then; one of the two arguing swordsmen. "Hey, how's Falcon? I know he was coming down in his machine, too; is he...?"

Something flickered in her eyes, too fast for Kira to notice, at the mention of that hated name. "He's fine," she answered, managing to keep her voice even and soothing. "He and his sister made a more controlled landing, next to the Archangel. Commander DiFalco isn't aboard right now, though; I hear he's on some kind of mission." Hopefully, it'll be dangerous enough to end his interference... permanently.

"I'm glad to hear it." Kira didn't know what he'd do without Falcon in the background, backing him up in battle and providing helpful advice whenever his determination wavered. He's the reason we made it this far, not me; I may have done more fighting, but without him, I never would have had the nerve...

"Right now, though," Flay said brusquely, "you're the one we're worrying about. But you're going to be just fine, Kira," she went on with a smile.

Behind it, though, her thoughts were very different. Once you get better, Kira, you can get back to avenging my father... and if I have my way, you'll finish the job by fighting Falcon. With luck, you'll kill each other... and my father will truly be avenged...

Tassil, House
"So you're the one they call the Grimaldi Falcon," greeted a stocky man with a full beard and mustache. "I must say, this isn't an encounter I ever expected to have."

"The feeling is mutual," Falcon said, "Mr...?"

"I go by the name Sahib Ashman." Sahib inclined his head. "Kisaka tells me you're no longer with ZAFT; is that true?"

"It is," the pilot acknowledged. "And if you want proof, just remember that I killed two of my old comrades at Heliopolis... and the Le Creuset team seems intent on doing me in now."

The leader of the Desert Dawn narrowed his eyes. "That last could be explained by the well-known enmity between you and Le Creuset."

"No," Falcon countered, "it can't. One: we're both too professional to kill each other, were we on the same side. Two: one of the pilots on his team happens to be a friend of mine, and he wouldn't be fighting me without direct orders from ZAFT Command."

Sahib grunted. It made sense; his question had merely been a test. "Is that sword the only weapon you're carrying?"

The pilot regarded him coolly, then twitched his right wrist; a sliver of metal dropped into his palm, and a press of a button flicked open the high-quality switchblade. He flipped it into the air, caught it, and slipped it back up his sleeve. "Sometimes a sword is a little too blatant," he said calmly. "Are you going to ask me to disarm?"

The resistance leader had the distinct feeling that the switchblade wasn't the only surprise the man carried; but he'd passed the test. "You're well known for keeping your word, Commander," Sahib said at last. "For now, that's good enough; though I'd strongly recommend you not make any... hasty moves."

"I don't have a death wish, Mr. Ashman; I'm well aware you have sufficient people close by to turn me into Swiss cheese. Besides, despite my interest in the martial arts, I am not a ground soldier." Falcon narrowed his eye. "Now, Mr. Ashman- shall we talk?"

Archangel, Hangar
"I looked over the manual last night, and they look like they could be a lot of fun," Mu said to his companions, standing on the ladder leading to the cockpit of a Skygrasper; the Eighth Fleet had delivered to of the machines to the Archangel. "What do you think, Commander?"

"You can call me Sophia, Commander, or Kestrel," Sophia replied. "Believe it or not, I really don't like to stand on ceremony that much." Sophia smiled slightly. "You're thinking of Lieutenant Badgiruel."

"Guess you're right. Make it Mu, then; we're equal in rank, anyway." The Hawk glanced at her sidelong. "You know, when I first came aboard, I'll confess I didn't like you very much, Sophia. Partly because of the way you talked about your -our- brother, and partly because... well, there was just something about your attitude."

"I was a little off-balance at the time," she said, waving a hand. "First Heliopolis is attacked, then my little brother turns up in a mobile suit I designed, and then it turns out that he's one of ZAFT's top pilots... and he nearly killed me last year. But, we seem to be getting along a little better now; maybe because he knows I'm a pilot, too."

"I'll admit I was surprised." Mu raised an eyebrow. "By the way, do you know if the Captain intends to discipline Falcon any for his actions in orbit? I know he countermanded her orders..."

"Nah," Sophia said, dismissing the notion. "First of all, he technically did have the authority to do it, as wing commander; second, it turned out to be the right thing to do. And third, I think Murrue is starting to realize that Falcon really does have a clearer idea of how to make use of mobile weapons on the battlefield. As to your original question," she went on, "I think you're right about the Skygraspers. They're a newer model than the fighters I flew last year, with more firepower and maneuverability. That beam turret they've got, for example, would make taking on mobile suits a lot easier."

"Not to mention the ability to use the Striker packs, eh?" Murdoch put in. "Put an Agni on one of those birds, and you've really got something."

"Yeah," Mu agreed, "but if you'll notice, the primary -intended- purpose of that capability is to deliver them to the Strike. So what does that make us, delivery boys?"

Sophia grinned. "Hey, Mu, since when do the pilots actually use things the way the design engineers intend? We're the ones on the sharp end, the ones who know how something actually performs in the field. If those Striker packs really do work, combined with the Skygrasper's mobility, then it'll be worth it to use 'em that way. Besides, we've got spares of the Striker weaponry; mostly for the Raptor's benefit, to be sure, but you'll notice Falcon doesn't use much more than his machine's standard armament anyway." She fondly patted the second Skygrasper. "I, for one, can't wait to take it for a spin; which reminds me: Chief, can you repaint this thing?"

Murdoch scratched his head. "Can I? Sure; but it's not exactly regulation."

She snorted. "Point one: it's going to be weeks before we get anywhere near anyone who'll complain. Point two: I always give my birds custom paint jobs, and the brass know it."

The mechanic smiled slowly. "And so does ZAFT... which means they might be a little more cautious, when they see your colors flying off the Archangel. Okay, Commander, you got it. What do you?"

"Turquoise fuselage, with gold wings, vertical stabilizers, and turret," Sophia answered. "Oh, and a raptor beak on the nose; that's what I always flew with, before getting transferred to the G-weapon project."

"You got it," Murdoch said again. He grinned broadly. "Besides, ain't every day my boys and I get to break regs!"

Mu shook his head. "You know, Sophia," his said to his fellow pilot, sotto voce, "I'm beginning to think that mechanics aren't entirely sane."

Sophia smirked. "Mu, every plane captain I've ever dealt with has said the same thing about pilots. Takes no to know one, I guess; we're all odd in our own ways."

"Yeah, I guess." His brow furrowed. "Speaking of pilot oddities, do either of you have any idea why Kira and Falcon call those things 'Gundams'? First Kira did it, then our emotionless ace picked it up; what on earth does it mean?"

Murdoch and Sophia started to speak simultaneously; the mechanic waved for the more knowledgeable mobile suit designer to continue. "It comes from the machines' startup screens," she explained. "The G-weapons use a system called 'General Unilateral Neuro-link Dispersive Autonomic Maneuver System'; when that comes up on the activation screen, reading the first letters of each word top-to-bottom gives you 'Gundam'. I guess Kira thought it sounded better than G-weapon."

Mu shook his head. "Makes sense; he is -or was- a civilian. What I can't figure out it why Falcon would use it. I mean, the way he acts..."

Sophia shrugged. "Hey, he cracks jokes, remember? I still don't think he's capable of strong positive emotion, but he's obviously got a sense of humor; and..." She hesitated. "There's a picture, in Raptor's cockpit," she said slowly. "I don't know who it is, but she -yes, I said she- appears to be a female ZAFT pilot. She's wearing a ZAFT top gun flightsuit, in blue and gold; it looks like she's standing in front of a slate gray GINN, which is another indication she was -or is- an acquaintance of Falcon. But I don't know what the photo means to him."

The other pilot scratched his chin. "Old flame, you think?"

"How should I know? Before Heliopolis, Falcon and I had barely spoken in years. I'm sure she's a friend of his, but beyond that, your guess is as good as mine." Sophia gave him a helpless look. "I can't imagine who you might talk to in order to find out, either; I doubt Falcon's told anybody about it, knowing him; not even Kira."

"Huh." Mu shrugged, telling himself that pursing the subject, especially with someone who clearly had no more idea than he as to the answer, was futile. "Speaking of Kira, how is the kid, anyway?"

"His fever's gone down," Murdoch replied. "I hear he woke up earlier today, a few hours after Commander DiFalco left for Tassil; a couple hours ago, the doc sent him back to his quarters." He chuckled. "Hard to believe the kid's an ensign already, y'know?"

"Yeah..." The pilot frowned. "You know, I wonder where Falcon is now. He's been gone for several hours now... In fact, almost a day."

Sophia waved a hand. "I wouldn't worry about him, Mu; he probably found something interesting he figured he should check out. Or maybe he decided to take a nap in his jeep before heading back. I wouldn't blame him; hasn't had any sleep since the Eighth Fleet went up."

"I guess." He shot her a curious glance. "Or maybe he's pursuing whatever crazy plan that's gotten him this far; I wouldn't put it past him to make use of any resources he could find for whatever scheme he's up to."

"Like making contact with the resistance fighters he's supposed to be looking into?" She frowned. "It's possible, I guess; Falcon still doesn't want to fight ZAFT, but it's clear by now he'll do it without hesitation. So yeah, it's possible he made contact with them. I wouldn't worry about that either, though; I think Falcon's a little... off base right now, maybe even slightly unhinged, but that's more a matter of an obsession. He'll do whatever it takes to accomplish whatever goal it is that he's set himself, but he won't sell out the Archangel. It wouldn't surprise me if he's mentioned her... but on the other hand, our entrance was probably a little hard to miss."

"Nothing like looking like a shooting star," Murdoch agreed. "I hope he knows what he's doing, though."

"That makes a shipload of us, I think, Chief," Mu told him. "But what the hey; the guy's supposed to be some kind of brilliant strategist, isn't he?"

"That, Mu," Sophia told him, "is about the one thing I am worried about. He's brilliant... but there's a fine line between genius and insanity, and we know he can get overconfident."

Murdoch looked at her strangely. "We do?"

She met his gaze. "Well, something he did -or helped with- made him leave ZAFT, didn't it?"

Neither of her companions had anything to say to that.

Archangel, Cafeteria
Four of the newly-minted Crewmen 2nd Class happened to be off-duty at the same time, and they took the opportunity to get a relaxing meal in the cafeteria. The last couple of days had been extremely hectic.

"You know," Kuzzey remarked, "if I'd known we were gonna be going straight into a battle like that last one, I might have thought twice about enlisting."

Tolle grinned. "Yeah, but you'd have done it anyway, right? Especially if you'd known what was going to happen to the shuttle?"

Remembering that incident dampened all their spirits momentarily. "Kira must have taken it pretty hard," Sai mused. "After protecting those people all the way to Earth, only to have them shot down right before his eyes... It must have been tough."

"For Falcon, too," Mir opined. "Though probably not as badly," she conceded. "He doesn't seem the type to beat himself up over something he had no control over."

"What about the Bloody Valentine?" Tolle questioned. "From what you said, he didn't take that very well."

"That was different; I hear at Junius Seven, he was actually in a position to stop the nuclear strike, but he failed." She shook her head. "Yesterday was completely different. First he was busy trying to shoot down his old student, then he had to try and avoid getting burned to a crisp on the way down to Earth." Mir sighed. "I hope he gets back soon; he's just about the only one who might be able to talk some sense into Kira about it." Besides Flay, she thought. And I still don't like what's going on with that.

As though summoned by the flight ops volunteer's thoughts, the hatch opened, admitting Flay Allster herself. "Hello," she greeted the group at large. She was carrying a tray; Kira's most recent meal.

"Hi, Flay," Mir said, pushing her suspicions to the back of her mind. "How's Kira?"

"Recovering nicely," the redhead replied. "In fact, the Doctor sent him back to his quarters a couple hours ago; now all he needs is some rest." She raised the tray. "I just finished eating with him, and I think he's doing just fine."

"I'm glad to hear it," Sai said. "We were all pretty worried about him."

Flay nodded absently. "So where's Falcon?"

Tolle blinked at the non sequitur. "Uh, he's still out on his assignment. Why?"

She shrugged. "Just curious." Good; the longer he's out of the way, the longer I have to mold Kira into the weapon I need...

"You look pretty tired," Sai said, after a long silence. "You were watching over Kira all night, weren't you? You should get some rest."

Flay shook her head. "I'm feeling just fine, thanks; in fact, I think we'll go and check on Kira again. It was a rough time for him, so I'm still a little worried." She turned away, muttering to herself, "Kira needs to get better as soon as possible."

Mir looked at her, gauging her mood. Something didn't seem quite right...

"Anyway," the girl went on, "I'll see you all later." She turned to leave.

Sai, a feeling of indefinable dread in the pit of his stomach, caught up with her at the hatch. "Uh, Flay...?"

Flay shot him a look of disgust. "What do you want, Sai?"

He blinked, dread growing stronger. "Um, well... It's nothing, really, but I..."

Oh, that, she thought, even more disgusted than she appeared. "Sai," she said in a tightly controlled voice, "our engagement was arranged by my father, without asking for my approval; it wasn't exactly my idea. And, as you can see, he's no longer around." She shot him another less-than-pleased look. "I don't see any reason to think about an obsolete arrangement anymore, do you?"

Sai's eyes were very wide as his -ex- fiancé left the cafeteria. Huh...? No... it can't...

Tolle and Mir exchanged glances. "Something doesn't seem right here," he said softly.

"I know," she murmured. "Falcon and I have been keeping an eye on the situation for days now; but I think it's gone farther than we thought." Come on, Falcon, she thought. Hurry back.

Tassil, House
Falcon and Sahib had been engrossed in discussion for less than an hour when the messenger came; not even enough time to get past the verbal sparing and into the true meat of the conversation.

"What is it?" the resistance leader asked, when the man entered.

"It's the Desert Tiger," the messenger reported breathlessly. "He's left the Lesseps, with several BuCUEs; somewhere between five and ten, we're not exactly sure. We think he's on his way to that ship."

Falcon stood so fast his chair fell over. "In that case, Mr. Ashman, I'm afraid we must cut this conversation short."

Cagalli grabbed his arm when he moved toward the door. "And just where do you think you're going?"

He shook her off. "Back to my ship. I don't know if you understand the concept of duty, but I do; I'm needed there, and that's where I'm going." He looked back at Sahib. "I don't know if I've convinced you we could help each other in this situation, and right now I don't particularly care. I know you don't like the Earth Forces... so you can help us fight off Andy Waltfeld or not. Your choice." The Grimaldi Falcon quickly replaced his sunglasses with his customary eyepatch. "I, however, must be going."

He swept out of the building, leaving the resistance fighters to look at each other, silently weighing their options. "Well, Kisaka?" Ashman said at last. "What do you think?"

The bodyguard shrugged. "All I can tell you is based on my own previous encounter with Commander DiFalco, last year; but what I remember makes me inclined to trust him to a certain degree. He keeps his word. And if anyone is capable of bringing an end to the war, as he proposes, I'd put my money on him."

"Which would be advantageous to us as well," Ashman mused. "Very well," he said, hearing the distant sound of Falcon's jeep getting into motion. "Gather the men, and prepare to move out." He grinned. "After all, we can hardly have a proper talk with them if we let the Tiger blow them sky high, now can we?"

Author's note: Archangel has landed on Earth, and contact with the resistance fighters has been made. Now the Desert Tiger is on his way to cause trouble… and on top of that, it appears Flay wants Falcon dead…

ZGMF X-19A Infinite Justice, you are quite correct that there will be many more surprises in this story; not, of course, that I'm going to spoil any of them quite yet…

Infinite Freedom, all I will say about the destruction of GENESIS is that Falcon will not be self-destructing inside the weapon. Kevin Walker already pulled that stunt, remember?

As regards the pairing, guess all you want; I'm too cagey to say one way or the other, as you know.

One problem with the notion of Tempest flying a Forbidden Blue: that's an Earth Forces machine, whereas Tempest is a ZAFT pilot. I will say that I've decided on what his final machine will be, though.

As you can see, you were correct in thinking that Sophia's going to wind up piloting a Skygrasper; as to the possibility of her flying a mobile suit… I admit I haven't decided yet. That will take some thinking.

Ninofchaos, glad you liked it; I'll be keeping an eye on your story, as well (would have left a longer review last time, but I was a little tired at the time).

Ominae, I see I achieved the desired effect with those twists; I seem to be having more success in that regard than I did in Brothers in Arms. As mentioned earlier in the notes, there will be a number of surprises yet.

I will say, by the way, that Falcon and Sophia will reconcile fully… and a little sooner than I'd originally intended, judging from the last couple chapters.

As for Falcon's past… suffice it to say that it will all be revealed at the proper time. Sequence and order, time and stress…

Red Eyed Divine Dragoon77415, I think you'll like the finale; I'm planning something very big…

Centurious, you should expect updates every week or so. You see, I'm trying to get to at least the Battle of Alaska by the time I begin Brothers in Arms: A Call to Arms; that means that, going by my progress so far, I need to write approximately two hundred thousand words in the next three or four months. That, in turn, means that I need to write two to three times faster than usual. Needless to say, I'm going to be busy.

Those will hardly be the last major twists, of course; just as examples, I'm planning… interesting… changes to Phases 25, 30, and 35. Naturally, those won't be the only ones…

Warp Ligia Obscura, it simply wasn't Huckebein's time to die (again); I have very specific plans for the manner and timing of his demise, as you'll see. He will, of course, be a perennial nuisance throughout. (And no, that saying wouldn't quite apply to Falcon; as will be seen, there's a reason he doesn't exactly consider himself a hero.)

I was actually a little surprised the Mu didn't have the SEED in the series; he seemed the type for it. In any case, I decided I might as well add it for my purposes.

I'm sure I will enjoy messing with Destiny's plot; I already have numerous detailed plans for it. Now, as for this story… I will say that Flay's going to survive, though I won't say how; beyond that, I'll just let you speculate for now…

Now, when it comes to Kevin, I don't think I said that his tale was done, exactly; the general details of his past have been revealed, but in A Call to Arms, I'll be going far more into specifics. ABADDON will not remain in his buried past forever…

I might have a mention of Kevin in here, as you suggest; something that bears thinking on, certainly. I'm just not sure how well it would work. On the other hand, there are ways…

Another forty-five minutes taken up by author's notes; figures. I'm not even sure why I bother to complain about it anymore. Habit, I suppose. Anyway, let me know what you think of this chapter. -Solid Shark