Author's Note: Calling out to all readers, I need some more OCs! Because I like looking towards the future, I have foreseen a time with my almighty author powers that I will need more cattle for the slaught—er, I mean more OCs that I can exploit and unfortunately, I am drawing one too many blanks. So please, pretty please, care to help an unfortunate soul out?

Any way, I would like to pause and mention that I am using ShadowMajin's OC that he made for me a while ago, an OC by the name of Mudball and I hope I got this guy right. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or ShadowMajin's Mudball.

Warning: language

Verbal Sparring

The early morning sun made the world seem more paler than usual, at least to Jason it did. Everything looked so new and the fresh crisp air that rammed into him the moment he emerged from the van was a welcomed feeling as he took in a lungful of it.

"So which direction did they last head in?" he heard Wufei suddenly speak, shattering the picturesque feelings the Wind Master was experiencing.

Looking over to the white clad form, he answered, "Give me a moment." While he and the others were dressed in the customary black, Wufei had refused all uniforms offered him, preferring to stick his own Chinese silks instead.

However, there was a reason why Jason had requested some breathing room; he needed to get his bearings. Being underground always had the effect of throwing his sense of direction off since there is little to no air belowground, the base itself the exception to the rule.

As he let himself become reacquainted with the surface, he let himself observe the other two teammates that Wufei had requested. One was the behemoth known as Sigmund and even that word, behemoth, was stretching it. The guy was enormous, larger than Solo, Jason was sure of, and his body was one hundred percent muscle. Yeah, he had superstrength but that wasn't his primary ability. He had the enviable ability of regeneration. You could tear half of his body into pieces but he could just regrow the rest of himself and then kick your ass. If Solo and Sigmund were on the same spectrum, they would be complete opposites; both of them were incredibly strong and both were invincible in their own ways but whereas Solo still had his brain, Sigmund…didn't.

The other one was a short, fat, brown haired, brown eyed boy that repulsed Jason in a more hygienic way than anything. "Mudball" was what he called himself and he had the power to control the earth. He loved rocks and dirt and all that stuff so much that he had he had managed to avoid taking a shower for years, which showed up in the coats of grime all over him (and his uniform as well) and his greasy hair that somebody could probably fry French fries in.

Currently, Mudball had taken the opportunity to fall down into the dirt and roll around while Sigmund was standing there in a too-tight uniform. They had been guessing on Sigmund's size but apparently everything was just too small for the guy.

Closing his eyes and focusing, he felt all the air around and beyond him and through it began to extend his senses. He could feel all four of them, five if you took into account Sigmund's entire body since he was almost like two people, but he pushed that aside as his awareness continued to grow and grow in an ever increasing circular area. He could sense the various centers of civilization but none of them had those telltale giveaways that caused their two targets to stick out.

…And there they were.

"That way," he spoke suddenly, his eyes flashing open and he pointed in the correct direction.

"Are you sure?" Wufei questioned.

"Positive," Jason answered, his arm lowering.

Wufei eyed him speculatively but then turned in the direction Jason had pointed in. Looks like he was going to trust him on this one. Well, it wasn't like Jason was affronted by any doubt. He knew what he was doing and if Wufei didn't trust his judgment, then it would be his fault since he was the new leader of their ragtag group.

Sigmund was shifting uncomfortably in his suit and Mudball was too busy rubbing dirt all over himself when Wufei uttered out a sharp order. Sigmund continued to shift in place while Mudball got to his feet begrudgingly but looked down longingly at the ground.

Of course, those hard feelings were soon replaced as Mudball spoke in a snotty way. "So we're goin' in some random direction all because that fairy over there stuck his finger in the air and said they were thataway?"

"Silence," Wufei ordered sternly. "I am in charge and you will do as I tell you and I am ordering you to go in the direction that Jason has pointed in."

"Yeah, yeah," Mudball grumbled as Sigmund unzipped his uniform in an attempt to make it less constricting.

At least that was what Jason thought he was doing until an additional head popped out of his suit, a certain black headed boy that he recognized immediately.

"Hey!" he bellowed. "What do you think you're doing?"

Yuuan's head snapped around to look at him in fear while Wufei and Mudball looked over at them to see what was going on. Sigmund was already prepared to go to his small friend's defense but Jason wasn't about to take that step just yet. Neither of these two were Mobias and thus he had no beef with them. At least not yet.

"What's he doing here?" Jason demanded sternly as he crossed his arms over his chest, not intimidated by the overwhelming size of Sigmund as the other towered over him. "I thought that there were only suppose to be four of us, not five!"

"Stand down," Wufei ordered Jason, forcing Sigmund and Yuuan's attentions towards him, one in fear and the other uncertain. Turning towards the two, Wufei picked up where Jason had left off. "He raises a good point; I requested only you and not the one you're hiding. What's your excuse?"

Sigmund grunted and groaned unintelligibly for a minute and Wufei's frown increased with each and every passing second that he didn't understand a word from the giant. Mudball, however, was taking the chance to laugh his ass off at the Chinese youth's frustrations until said Chinese glared him into silence.

Turning his glare back to Sigmund and Yuuan, he demanded, "Well? And make sense with your words this time."

"He can't…speak correctly," Yuuan mumbled from his place in Sigmund's suit, his face blushing as all attention focused on him.

"What do you mean he can't 'speak correctly?'" Wufei questioned, his eyes narrowing.

"Exactly that," Yuuan answered in a small whisper, shrinking further down Sigmund's back.

"He's right about that," Mudball agreed grudgingly. "The guy can't say a word right to save his life. He's like a caveman or somethin'."

Raising an eyebrow at this, Wufei looked back at Jason to see whether or not his leg was being pulled. Unfortunately, Jason could only agree with them by means of a nod. Wufei then swore to himself in a language none of them could understand but knew that it had to be some sort of swear word.

When he did begin speaking English, a language all of them could understand, again, he asked of Yuuan, "Can you explain what you're doing here? Please, if only to put me at ease."

"Sig only wanted to protect me," Yuuan whispered. "He just wanted to protect me…"

"From what?" Wufei exclaimed exasperatedly.

"The other guys," Yuuan answered in a quiet voice. "They always pick on me and use me."

"Guilty!" Mudball said aloud, admitting that he had been one those who had taken part in such things and not in the least repentant about it. At least, he wasn't until Sigmund leveled a glare down at him and the filthy boy took a couple steps away nervously.

Wufei sighed in exasperation, as if wondering why this kind of stuff always happened to him. "Well, we're on our own now," he said aloud, "and we're not going to just wait for a transport to return and take you back. You'll stay with us for the meantime until the mission has been brought to a close but you will stay out of our way, understand?"

"Yes," Yuuan gulped.

"Alright, now get out of there and walk like the rest of us," Wufei ordered. "Jason, lead us towards the targets and use the shortest routes possible. I want to subdue them no later than tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, yeah," Jason grumbled as the wind picked up around him and informed him that their targets had not moved in the last few minutes. Informing the rest, he took the lead in leading them towards their destination.

---

"Don't you have other people you can annoy?" Xavien sighed irritably as he threw a subtle glare at the large form of Brigadier General Katsaris. "I have a lot of work that needs to be done and not all of it involves Project Maxwell. I have a company to keep up and running and you sitting there, watching my every waking moment, is not productive in any way."

Katsaris snorted and crossed his legs. "General Septum ordered me to keep an eye on you."

"I don't think he meant it this literally," Xavien grumbled, scowling down at some paperwork. "I'm a very busy man, General, so why don't you go on and do whatever it is you do when you're not here bugging me?"

"No can do," Katsaris replied smugly. "Watching you is the only thing that I do around here. I have no life outside of my work so I'm going to be right at your side, watching your every move everyday until Septum sends word for me to leave and not until then."

"You could at least make yourself useful," Xavien retorted.

"I am not your employee," Katsaris retorted. "I work for the American military and Septum is the only person that can order me around. I have no contract with XAI so you're shit out of luck, aren't you?"

Xavien narrowed his eyes but refused to go on with the verbal sparring between him and the General. It was a waste of time that could better be put to use elsewhere. However, he still had the urge to throttle the other, larger man, something that he wouldn't be able to do under normal circumstances such as this. Katsaris was just too big and strong for him. He'd be crushed and besides, that wasn't his style.

But that wasn't where his frustration ended, oh no. There was Septum himself who seemed to enjoy throwing wrenches in his plans lately and calling him at least once a day for some kind of progress on Project Maxwell. Then there were the escaped weapons #11085 and #12093 who were running about and refusing to cooperate. Last but not least, he had to deal with the everyday cat-and-mouse games that he played with his two competitive business rivals: Romafeller and WEI. At least some things were going his way with that last one; neither of those two were aware of Project Maxwell and that's how he wanted to keep things for the time being. Keeping a lid on any piece of information that might get out about the project was difficult but it was worth it, so he felt.

But something was going to have to be done about the two other items that were on the top of his list of things that needed to be taken care of. Noventa had always been a thorn in not only Septum's side but his own as well and the fact that the Admiral had knowledge of the project was more than unnerving. Not for the first time did he entertain ideas for ridding himself of the annoyance only to make a promise to himself that an opportunity to take care of the man, permanently, would come up eventually and when it did, he would take advantage of it. As for 11085 and 12093, that dilemma was taking up one too many resources at it was. The longer those two remained beyond his grasp, the larger the chance of them blowing Project Maxwell's cover grew. He had spent too much time and invested too much of himself into this just for it all to be undone because of those two things.

He had to keep his cool, though. If he acted rashly then a fatal error might occur that would tear everything apart and there was no way in Hell he was going to let that happen, not on his watch.

The door to his office opened and in stepped his hulk of a second-in-command, Malkov. As usual, the man was expressionless so Xavien was never quite sure when the man would bring him good or bad news. This time, though, it was the latter.

"Mr. Xavien," Malkov spoke respectively. "We are having trouble locating the whereabouts of 12101."

Hearing that number caused Xavien's mind to drop everything and focus solely on this one thing. "What?" he growled, his different colored eyes flashing in displeasure.

"Who?" Katsaris spoke up from his seat, not following.

"He didn't show up to the morning meal," Malkov explained, seemingly unfazed by his employer's ire. "When we check his cell, there was no sign or trace of him. We are still searching the complex but thus far we have not been able to find it."

Xavien found that he was nearing the end of his tether. First 11085 and 12093 go AWOL and now 12101 is MIA. He was losing it, he could feel it. None of those three he could lose, well at least two of them he couldn't afford to lose. These lapses in security and the fact he couldn't seem to hold on to his weapons was beginning to become more than he could handle. He hadn't felt this way since 10001…no! He couldn't think about that embarrassment, not at a time like this!

He was getting overstressed, he knew it. He needed to find his center and start taking everything at a slower pace. None of this could be rushed else a mistake would be made and…

Nevertheless, he still felt like wanting to slaughter something!

He pressed the palms of his hands against his eye sockets, his eyelids covering his eyeballs protectively, as he let out near-snarl of anger and slid his palms downward over his face, leaving the skin it passed over red. He glared up at Malkov, fighting against a tic in his left eye that threatened to expose his irritability.

"I want it found," he growled out, his voice cold and promising death to anyone stupid enough to provoke him. "I don't care if we have to tear the whole desert apart to do so, I want it found and returned as quickly as possible. I will not allow anyone else to get their hands on that little weapon and use it. Kill anybody that comes into contact with it, no exceptions."

"Now wait just one Goddamn minute—" Katsaris stood up to interject only to be cut off.

"This is none of your concern, General," Xavien snapped, glaring at the man. "We'll handle this so go back to being watchdog, alright?"

"I could care less what this 'weapon' means to you but I won't allow you to put the lives of this country's citizens in danger!" Katsaris bellowed, pulling out his sidearm and pointed it threateningly at the businessman, ignoring Malkov as the other man pulled out his own sidearm.

"You're a bit late for that," Xavien retorted sadistically. "There have already been casualties, thank you very much, and your superior doesn't care about any of that other than the amount of destruction that has been caused, which by the way he supports, so don't give me that 'holier than thou' crap."

"Septum might not care but I do," Katsaris growled.

"And what you care about is inconsequential," Xavien spat, falling back into his element. "However, if you are so against how we do things around here, why don't you go and retrieve #12101?"

Katsaris hesitated, biting his lip in indecision as he tried to choose whether or not to do as Xavien had suggested or continue to follow the orders given to him by Septum. In the end, though, he lowered his gun and sat down, glaring balefully at the businessman.

Smirking in triumph, Xavien turned back to Malkov and said, "My previous orders stand."

"Yes Mr. Xavien," Malkov said and left.

Making himself comfortable in his chair, Xavien shot one last smug glance at Katsaris, infinitely ballooned by the latest spar that he began to whistle as he got back to work.

---

Sunlight streamed through the large windows that provided a majestic sight of the city beyond it. All of that was ignored by the current occupant of the office to which those windows belonged to.

The man was not the largest person you could meet but quite small with combed pure white hair that was just beginning to enter the balding process and framed a wrinkle-free and smooth complected face that was as hard and cold as the man's personality. Normally cold, hard, blue eyes were thoughtful as this speck of a man looked as if he was pondering the mysteries of life itself.

In reality, he had just finished up with a call that contained some very…intriguing information.

"Project Maxwell…" Mr. Romafellor, the founder, owner, and C.E.O. of the Romafellor Corporation, one of the three largest firms in the world, said with thoughtfulness.