John Rowe – Chapter 1
"The Beginning"
SHIT! The sword cut through the air he has been in scant mille-seconds before,
Damn this guy is incredible Azrael Celest smiled to himself whilst slamming down on the thrusters but I can be better. His GINN soared skywards with the increased speed, pushing Azrael into his seat and allowing him precious seconds to maneuver without enemy interference. He spun the Mobile suit mid air, throwing the thruster output to zero, letting the unit hover mid air as gravity tried to send it plummeting back to the ground.
The enemy unit was an exact copy of his, a Standard "ZGMF-1017 GINN", roughly humanoid in shape the GINN is the perfect assault unit, standing 21.43 meters in height and armed with both Sword and Heavy Machine Gun it was the mainstay of the ZAFT forces. And the weapon that was to win them the war.
His opponent was rapidly approaching, spraying the air around Azrael with machine gun fire. A lock warning filled the GINN's cockpit and Azrael responded by rolling his unit to the right, slamming the stick forward and letting the suit freefall out of harms way. The enemy unit replicated his maneuver and went for another lock. Firing upwards as he fell, Azrael kicked in his burners and missed the ground by meters; he slowed his speed and touched down. The ZAFT pilot aimed and gave the Enemy a burst from his machine gun, instead of backing away Azrael drew his heavy sword and charged forward into the Enemy unit as it hit the ground, Slicing wildly he found his blow blocked by his opponent, steel met steel amid a flurry of sparks and he found himself overbalanced. His opponent seized on this and delivered a crushing punch to the side of his suit, the armor buckled and Azrael's GINN staggered backwards, its monitor filled the image of a large heavy sword swinging towards his cockpit. The expected shriek of metal never came however as the lights in the cockpit shut down, his monitor going to black and a hissing of decompression filled the air.
A circle of light opened above him and Azrael clumsily undid his straps and climbed out of the Simulator. Removing his helmet and wiping sweat from his face he leaned against the wall I LOST! Dread filled him and disappointment coursed through his body like poison, some pilot I am, maybe I'm just not cut out for the military. He glanced intently at the simulator across the room; his opponent had just stepped out of it and removed his helmet, revealing shoulder length blond hair and startling red eyes, he had the look of a veteran even though Azrael knew he had never flown in a combat situation. The mans eyes swept the room and came to rest upon Azrael, a smile touched his lips and he strode confidently over, extending his hand towards his recent opponent "That was a good fight, you're a pilot with great skill.. The commander informed me of one who passed with marks as good as my own. Next time though, come at me as if you mean to kill your opponent. .." He glanced around "I apologize for my rudeness, my name is Vega. It is an honor to meet you, Azrael Celest." a sly grin appeared on the face of the man ahead of him... his eyes were sinister, almost inhuman "I hope we fly together again sometime…"
Hours Later…
Azrael and the other pilots stared in awe at the ship before them. The ship before them gleamed in the hanger lights. it was a remarkable design, with a large jutting out nose which held the ships main cannons, intruding into the ship was the hanger bays, which opened to allow a linear catapult to jut forward and release it's deadly completment of mobile suits. Matching mishaped wings protected the launcher and provided living quarters for the crew. The bridge was situated over the top of the hanger, providing a unobstructed view. They had, after six months of hard training qualified as ZAFT mobile suit pilots and the sleek cruiser before him was to carry all the Green pilots to the frontline, to take the fight back to those natural bastards. "She's a fine looking bitch ain't she lads!" A large aging man strode forth, his bright green service uniform was dulled by age and stained with grease and oil... Anyone with half a mind could tell he was part of the ships maintenance crew. The man glanced down at the curious pilots and shrugged "I'm Cristo Rovar, Head of Maintenance and the one that's gonna keep you flyboys fit and able to fly, that there is the Reprisal, A Nazca class cruiser and she's gonna take you right into the action"