Author Note: I am not for certain what genre this story should merge with, so suggestions are greatly welcomed.


Chapter 1

He was passing through the small neighboring town of Marion; Jade, the city where his mission was located, was the next one over. As OZ's site for its main headquarters and proud pride and joy, Jade was the huge thriving metropolis of the nation. There was certainly a raison d'être for the unique name -- the jade itself is a distinctive precious gem, not only just prized for its obvious beauty, but also for its inimitable symbolic energy. OZ needed a strong emblem, and the jade seemed to combine both beauty and strength in a remarkably harmonious way. The large metropolitan area was surrounded by countless tiny, almost insignificant towns that thrived upon the benefits of the city. It was to the point where the nearby towns depended on the city so much so, that if Jade ever closed its doors off to outsiders, the helpless neighboring towns would economically collapse within less than a month.

Heero paused and sighed as he spotted a dilapidated civilian house, one of countless others in the smaller towns. These were typical living conditions for the bourgeois of OZ. 'They obviously have their people right where they want them,' he thought sadly, feeling a flare of anger rising up inside of him as he passed by the rotting building. Simply thinking about all the wrongs OZ was causing its suppressed citizens just made his will to crush them stronger.

It was getting quite dark and the weather looked somewhat threatening, but it was all the better for Heero. The civilians would all be in their homes, no one would be watching him, and he loved walking alone in the rain. It was sad and melancholy - just like him.

All he simply was was a soldier ('or terrorist, depending on the person you're speaking to,' he contemplated darkly). Trained since he was a young child to become one of the Rebel Alliance, Heero knew nothing of kindness or joy. He was told that 'friends' were but a weakness and merely an obstacle in the path of victory. He was taught to kill or be killed for the success of the mission. His own happiness, he knew painfully well, was to be sacrificed for the happiness of others.

A bitter smile hinted at his lips. 'Whatever 'happiness' is.'

Some light first drizzles sprinkled onto his unruly brown hair. He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and gazed up into the heavens. It looked like someone took black and pallid speckled paint, mixed it together, and hurled it across the sky. The whole sight was rather striking, in a dismal way.

As Heero strolled through the ramshackled, ghost-like town, it began to rain harder. 'Not a problem,' he thought as he leisurely made his way down the sidewalk; he was in no hurry to get to his destination. A look at his watch told him it was 11:12 – plenty of time to get there by morning.

Heero was starting to visibly relax as he passed the local bar (boisterous laughter could be heard inside). He wasn't able to have time to himself in so long. This was nice – walking in the rain.

True, any ordinary teenager would be at least somewhat frightened ambling down a dark, quiet street past a bar at eleven o'clock, but not Heero. He faced many things in his life that required much more strength and focus than this.

'This?' Heero impulsively threw back his head and laughed. It was a laugh filled with heartache and dejection.

This was just plain relaxation to him.

That was what he thought at first, anyway.

"'Ey, you!"

The sudden sound of a voice caused Heero to freeze. He stopped beneath a streetlight. The cheerless glow from the yellow light bulb illuminated off his face as he paused, then turned. "Me?"

"Well, you're da only person out here," the man replied sarcastically. His words were spoken in a bit of a drunken slur as he staggered out of the bar. He was a large man with short spiked brown hair, and his rugged face looked anything but kind. He was holding a beer in one hand, and his free hand was pointing a fat finger at Heero's face.

Now Heero dealt with many drunks in his lifetime, and at first, this man seemed no different. But when the man stepped closer into the dim light to make his finger-pointing more fear-provoking, Heero's senses were on full alert. It wasn't that the man was two times larger than himself or that he was utterly "under the influence." What alarmed Heero was the man's clothing.

He was wearing an OZ uniform.

It needs to be mentioned that there was a war going on at this point – rebels verses OZ – and whoever won this war decided the outcome of billions of people, both on earth and in the colonies.

OZ was a military organization from earth, although their power was slowly spreading to the colonies one at a time. That was what they wanted in the first place – ultimate power – and it didn't matter one way or the other how they would obtain it, as long as it was somehow quickly obtainable. Then, in a wild attempt for even more control, OZ shocked the world and crushed their very founders, the mighty Romefeller Foundation. It was an amazing and incredible feat. Yet still they craved for even more power. Now with the combined might of themselves and the defeated Romefeller Foundation (currently a reluctant financial pawn of OZ), they knew nothing could stop them from world domination. Turning towards the earth, they are currently taking hold of it with an iron fist. And once OZ sees for a fact that earthling resistance will be futile, everyone and their grandmother will know they will ultimately turn toward the worried, yet peaceful colonies.

Unsatisfied with the way the earth's government kept leeching on to the colonies to get what they wanted, and knowing full well that the only reason the colonies originally existed was because those very people wanted to escape frustrating wars and confusing politics in the first place, a group of colonists formed what was known as the Rebel Alliance. It existed solely to battle and defeat OZ, no matter even if their own homeland were to renounce them…which it eventually did. The unfortunate colonies were absolutely terrified of OZ's growing and unsurpassed strength, and didn't want to give the organization any reason whatsoever to declare an all-out war on them (though, in a way, they were still being "attacked"; there just were not any literal casualties yet). Some colonies decided opposition was useless and chose to even join with OZ.

OZ knew full well the rebels probably stemmed from the space colonies, although the colonies never claimed their ideals represented the rebel's ideals. The colonies also tried as quickly as possible to let the earth know they were not responsible for these "troublemakers." Every action of the rebels, they declared, was of their own doing.

"What do you want?" Heero asked coldly, trying not to reveal his astonishment at seeing an OZ soldier so soon, and in such a place. After all, this was a small town; what was an OZ soldier doing out here? Except for getting a possible discount on his booze, there was nothing else. 'Unless,' Heero thought sharply, 'he's traveling through, like me, to get to the city and OZ's main HQ. That's gotta be it!'

And what was worse, Heero knew, usually OZ soldiers, like wild dogs, traveled in packs. They were regularly seen together drinking ("What kind of an OZ soldier are you if you drink alone?" was the typical, jocular slogan). It was without a doubt that this soldier's companions were nearby. This was not the time to be found out.

"'Ey, watch yer attitude!" The guy sneered, revealing daunting yellowed teeth. He took another threatening step forward. "We OZ soldiers, we're da new monitors while we're stayin' here; dere's no 'cops' to cry to when we're around. We're da law wherever we go. Now, 'ow old 're ya?" He drunkenly threw his arm into the air to check his watch in the faint lighting. It was the hand that was holding his beer, and he consequently spilt some of it onto his uniform. Glaring at Heero as if it was his fault for the little spatter, he continued. "Kids under eighteen aren't allowed out after ten, ya know. It's da curfew rule in Jade, an' it's da curfew rule here. What are ya up to, ya li'l punk?!"

"I don't even live here—Captain Walker," Heero calmly replied, reading the soldier's ornate uniform badge. "I'm just passing through."

"Like I care!" The captain stepped closer to Heero to look yet more intimidating. "You're probably lyin' to me, anyway! Now, how old 're ya?!"

"I'm twenty-one," Heero answered, turning to walk away. In actuality, he was fifteen years old, just a teenager. But maybe in that drunken state, the guy would buy it.

He didn't. Heero felt a strong arm on his shoulder. He was spun around and two jaundiced eyes stared into his own blue ones. "'Den let's see some ID."

Heero knew that any more arguing would get him into deeper trouble; the soldier's obvious incentive behind this little breach of rules was that he just felt like being mean tonight. So why not give this boy a hard time?

He felt his heart starting to beat faster as he reached into his back pocket. The ID he had was the ID of a student, and rightfully so. That was his concealment, his protection from being found out within. He didn't plan on needing an ID for protection from without. He had no obscurity for this situation.

His mind raced for some kind of strategy to get out of this position without revealing his true motivations, but only one plan came to mind. And that would utterly blow what cover he had.


Author Note: I hope that it was clear enough to understand that this is currently in a flashback. Comments are welcomed!