Author's Note: Believe it or not, I still have a bit of an urge to do some more destruction. Since I've been giving the guys some challenges, I thought that maybe they should get a break and face something easier, like a heavily armed force of XAI's private army. Senseless death and destruction, here we come again! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Is It Paranoia?

Teams of "cleaners" combed over the battlefield with the purpose of recovering whatever they could. In a wasteland that had become even more wasted after many fights of a large magnitude, finding anything was a near miracle but find things they did.

Malkov watched dispassionately as the twitching and bleeding body of #14376, a.k.a. Sigmund, was loaded into a van, said vehicle setting off to return to base with the injured weapon. 14376, though, wasn't the top priority but 12101 was. Xavien wanted him found at all costs and it didn't matter who it was that got in the way. Not only that, but searching for 11085 was a secondary priority that had a lot emphasis in being completed.

He recorded everything mentally that he would later put into a report that his employer would read and make heads or tails out of it. He took in the sight of torn of earth but frowned slightly at the unusual presence of plantlife that shouldn't even be here. Maybe Mr. Xavien could figure out what it meant since he couldn't.

With that taken care of, he walked back to the caravan to get any new orders that might come from the base. Just as he reached his van, he was approached by two eager boys with teal and purple colored spectacles on their faces, their names being Alex and Mueller if the man recalled correctly. They were freshmen in the XAI organization, just two individuals who were apart of Xavien's private army that was used to keep Project Maxwell's products under control. That being said, the two normal young men were looking like two excited puppies and with as much energy as said animals.

"Sir!" the one named Alex cried out over-enthusiastically, making Malkov nearly wince from the sheer volume. "We just received coordinates from the implant locater in 12101 and it's not far from here."

Malkov nodded as the appropriate measures that needed to be taken ran through his mind.

"Um, sir?" the one named Mueller spoke up, his voice much lower than his partner's. "Alex and I were wondering if we could be in charge of the retrieval unit that would be sent out, sir…"

Malkov just stared the two down with a dispassionate gaze but he considered their words. He'd have to speak with Xavien first about the suggestion before proceeding with anything. This was a delicate matter and it needed to be handled delicately, unless Xavien himself said otherwise.

"Excuse me for a moment," he told the two young men as he climbed into his truck, closing the door behind him as he got onto the radio and contacted base. A few minutes later, he got out, facing the two youngsters as he gave them their orders. "Authorization has been confirmed," he told the two. "You are to head in a southwest direction towards the coordinates and if the weapon has come into contact with anyone, you are to eliminate all contacts. No exceptions. You are in charge of this operation while I accompany the other contained weapon back to base. Take what you need with you because there will be no reinforcements, understand?"

"Yes sir!" both young men saluted, malicious gleams in their eyes. It seemed that Alex and Mueller had been ready beforehand. The one named Mueller waved his hand and a large armored vehicle that looked like a tank except it sat upon four rubber tires, like a van would, rolled by. Quite a few of these vehicles were heading towards the coordinates along with some accompanying vans and Alex and Mueller themselves.

Since this was no matter of his anymore, Malkov turned his attention elsewhere.

---

As the XAI vehicles plowed through the terrain, one of the armored, four-wheeled tanks ran over an insignificant rock that began to flash an unnoticeable red light, sending a small signal ahead of the enemy caravan.

---

Unlike the rest of the church and orphanage, James' room was a room apart as it held some of the most sophisticated pieces of technology, some of which had been smuggled from certain business corporations and governments through black market contacts that the man himself still kept healthy. While the furniture in the surprisingly large room was shabby and cheap, it was sturdy to hold all the electrical equipment in James' possession.

Said man burst into his own room after hastily unlocking, heading straight towards an open laptop where a pop-up window shown, the window confirming the man's fear. Sitting down in front of it, James' fingers flew over the keys in a dance only they knew as more pop-ups appeared on his screen. His frown deepening, he let out an exhausted sounding sigh just as a certain blond hesitantly step into the room, followed by a certain priest and his new acolyte.

"What is it James?" Father Maxwell asked, not in the least shocked by all the equipment in the room.

"They're coming," James sighed, catching the attentions of Solo and Yuuan. "They tripped one of my security devices, you know, the ones that made you think I was paranoid? They're northeast of us and closing in. It'll be less than ten minutes at the rate their going, and speeding up, before they arrive."

"What'll they do?" Solo asked.

"Probably destroy the church," James answered almost airily. "Take the kids and bring them back to Xavien's facility where they'll just become more of his experiments. Still, how do they know to come here…?"

His eyes snapping up, James got out of his chair and headed over to a table where he pick out a small device. Turning on, small beeps were emitted from it, each beep timed a certain amount from one another. As he moved, heading to the door, the beeping began to increase until it was practically one loud sound.

Looking to his side in surprise, James found himself next to Yuuan who was staring at him somewhat fearfully as he eyed the beeping device. "A homing device," James breathed.

Solo suddenly stiffened. "Ya don't think they could've…?"

"Not in you," James answered the incomplete question. "But they did in him. There's not enough time to get the children out of here and out of harm's way. Christ…"

Eyes narrowing, Solo demanded, "Ya think ya can get rid of that thing?"

"Perhaps," James answered.

"Then me and Trowa will hold them off," Solo stated, heading to the door. "Do whatever it is you gotta do."

"Make sure you don't let any of them know about the church!" James cried out as the last of Solo's hair wisped around the doorway.

"We'll handle it," Solo called back and everyone could feel the smirk on Solo's face from that statement alone.

---

Solo nearly tore the door off its hinges as he came for Trowa, the said youth looking at him in surprise.

"We got incoming," Solo told him. "A bunch of guys from XAI are headin' this way. Think ya can help me do somethin' 'bout it?" The blond had continued to talk even as Wufei exclaimed "XAI!" from where he sat.

Nodding his head, Trowa replied, "Can't let them get past the welcoming committee, can we?"

As the two started to head out, they were halted by Wufei. "Take me with you!" he called out.

"Why should we do that?" Solo asked skeptically.

"Let me prove myself to you," Wufei scrambled to say. "You don't trust what I say so let me prove myself to you."

"We don't have time for this," Solo muttered to himself. "Look," he said out loud. "Can ya stay here an' make sure the kids here aren't hurt if anybody gets past us?"

Wufei nodded solemnly.

"Me an' my bleedin' heart," Solo muttered to himself as he grabbed Wufei's bindings and rip them off.

---

"That was really mature of you," Trowa commented a few minutes later when both he and Solo were a distance away from the church and orphanage and increasing the distance. When setting out, they needed to move quickly and since Solo could do that, he had to carry Trowa on his back which had irked him. Trowa would have offered to burrow them but they needed to see their enemies heading towards them and not away from them. Plus it took time and energy doing that and Solo seemed not to be the type to tire easily.

Hell, the blond had taken on Wufei and Sigmund back to back without taking any time for rest.

The journey itself, though, was bumpy, very bumpy. And this was the way Duo had traveled when both he and Solo had first escaped? Trowa couldn't imagine anybody falling asleep during that, not even closing their eyes for a second.

So when Solo finally came to a stop, Trowa quickly got off his broad back, thankful for feeling solid ground against his feet despite his legs wobbling for a few seconds. Solo was enjoying his misery; he could feel it in his gut. Still, if you were on the go go go, traveling by Solo was the way to go.

"So what's da word?" Solo called to him cheerfully.

Shooting the blond a look of annoyance, he tuned him out as he listened to the plants, taking in their constant buzz, and confirming them with what little info the earth would give him. Coming back to himself, he answered, "They'll be here in less than a minute."

"Good," Solo replied as he cracked his knuckles. "I could use some exercise."

"Bloodthirsty as always, I see," Trowa said, his eyes picking up the clouds of dust rising over the horizon, pinpointing the enemy caravan's location.

"Wanna wait or see what happens if they hit something?" Solo asked.

Without answering, Trowa summoned his plants and directed them a ways ahead of them. While too late to intercept the vehicle at the head, the plants attacked one of the armored tanks that tore throw the pathetic attempt with ease. Frowning, Trowa tried again, this time catching a van that ended up losing traction and served wildly before being rammed and crushed by a tank behind it.

"Cold blooded," Solo whistled. "My turn." Ramming his hand into the earth, he pulled a large chunk of the landscape up and threw the large projectile. As it flew in the air towards the vehicles, one of the tanks raised its turret and fired a shot at the rock, blowing it into pieces that were run over by both tanks and vans.

"Huh," Trowa commented as he summoned his root-sword, making sure that it was twice as sharp than times previous.

"Looks like we gotta take 'um face ta face," Solo said. "Fine with me."

The eager blond launched himself at the caravan that began to fire shots from multiple turrets simultaneously. Unfazed as explosions occurred on either side of him, Solo ignored the shots as he took on the first tank headfirst, tearing through the vehicle and coming out the back, the tank detonating behind him in a cloud of flames.

Whistling at the sight, Trowa stood his ground, waiting for any vehicles that got past Solo. Indeed, as some tanks remained to fight the blond off, others continued on their path, Trowa standing directly in their path. One of the tanks fired a shot at him, the unibanged young man sighing. Listening to the plant's screams, he held his bladed root up like a baseball bat and, at the right second, swung it, connecting with the explosion shell and sending it back at its point of origin where it traveled back up the tank turret, the armored vehicle exploding soon after.

For his next act, he summoned a bramble of sharp-tipped roots which were impaled into the front of a moving van, stopping it in its tracks, blood splattering on the cracked windshield. Taking the time to use a new technique, one inspired by the late Mudball, a pillar rock held visibly together by vines and roots erupted from the ground right under another moving tank, sending it flipping to a side to land on the only other van to have gotten past Solo, the van exploding into flames as it was crushed.

Meanwhile, Solo was on his own path of destruction. As soon as he had rammed through that first tank, he had rammed into the tank following that one but stopped while still in it. Taking only a second to take in the shocked faces that greeted him, particularly that of a dark-skinned guy with some interesting spectacles, before he got down to business, punching a fist straight through the closest guy and hitting another's head off. Swinging a punch back, he threw his next blow into the dark skinned guy, sending him straight through the armored hull and straight into a passing van, said vehicle toppling onto its side and sliding a ways on the gritty soil. Bending his legs, the blond shot straight up out of the tank, taking the turret with him and throwing it like a missile at another tank that promptly exploded.

As he fell back down to earth, he watched as quite a few of the tanks stopped and turned towards him, the turrets aiming upwards and firing at him. Cursing, Solo crossed him arms in front of his face as exploding shell after exploding shell hit him. When the barrage was over, Solo landed on the ground with his bare feet, his pants managing to come out fine with only a couple of large, burned holes while his shirt was in tatters, his muscular upper body bare for all to see.

Rolling his eyes, Solo caught a fired explosive in midair with a hand, twisted his waist and altered the shell's flight to an escaping van, the dance of flames encircling it. Not paying any attention to it, though, Solo rushed a nearby tank and picked it up, hefting it above his head and throwing it at another tank; metal slammed against metal harshly, the airborne tank bouncing off and over the grounded tank, leaving a large dent in its hull as it continued flipping until it landing on its top, its wheels still spinning as the tank leaned to a side.

Spinning on his heels, the blond charged again, his elbow jutted in front on him with his fist being held tightly by his other hand in front of his chest, he rammed his elbow down into a tank turret just as it was about to fire again. Solo felt the shell ricochet off his elbow and back down the turret, the tank exploding into flames. Pulling his elbow out, he jumped off the flaming heap of metal without giving a second thought.

Back to Trowa, the young man dodged an incoming tank that tried to ram him. Tightening his grip on his sword, he slashed the top of the tank off, taking some heads with it as the sliced off metal slid off its perch.

Shrieks warned him of an incoming and Trowa gracefully leapt up high just as an explosive shell struck the side of the sliced tank. He flipped and landed on his feet with the grace of a cat, sprinting close to the ground as he headed straight for his next victim, his sword held parallel with his body behind him. Shifting to his left, he sliced his bladed root-sword as he passed another tank, cutting off the tank's right front tire, causing it to loose its equilibrium and run into the ground, leaning into the ground. The turret was turning, though, looking for him and just as it found him, he threw his sword straight down the turret, effectively stopping the tank from firing at him and most likely impaling the turret operator.

While weaponless for the moment, Trowa snapped his head towards his last tank and grew a tree under it, the tree's branches and trunk wrapping around the metal monster. A large root broke through the tank's hull, the root in question stained a particular shade of red as the rest of the tank was crushed slightly from the pressure exerted on it by the tree trunk.

Turning towards the previously incapacitated tank, Trowa grew another root-sword as he walked unhurriedly to it. Slashing downwards, he cut the front of the tank off and summoned another bramble of sharp-tipped roots to ram into the opening and out through the back.

Solo was dealing with the last of his by this time: one single tank that was driving about the desert ground frantically while one last van was turning around to try and make an escape. Solo chose to deal with the tank first as he leapt high up into the air and landed with a ton of force onto the front of the tank, taking out the engines right then and there. Jumping off, he walked calmly to the tank's side and cut his hand through the thick metal, ripping open the side and climbing in to deal with the last of the men still there. He took out the first two by slamming their heads together harshly and then turned to a screaming, young, light skinned man with a particular shade of glasses on his face just like that dark skinned guy from before. The blond winced at the sound of the screaming; this guy sounded just like a girl. Taking matters into his own hands, he curled his fingers into the guy's mouth and ripped the top of his head up, leaving only the lower jaw and tongue attached to the neck.

The blond ignored the gurgling sounds as he left the tank with an explosive shell in hand, stepping on the guy's set of teal colored spectacles and crushing them on the way out.

Looking towards the horizon where the last van was making a getaway, he weighted the shell in his hand before throwing it like a quarterback with a football. The blond smirked as the van exploded, signaling that he had made a direct hit.

"Done yet?" a cool Trowa asked, appraising the blown up van in the distance.

"Yeah, I think so," Solo answered, not looking at his comrade.

Eyeing Solo's apparel, the unibanged man commented, "Really let yourself go, eh?"

"They were askin' for it," Solo shrugged as he turned to head back to the church.

---

Admiral Noventa was not a very strict man which was one of the reasons why he was so well liked among his peers, from the lowest of privates to the commander-in-chief himself. He was a voice of reason, a cool head who could use logic to retard even the most hotheaded of people.

There was only one matter in which he became strict, though. That matter, of course, was when he headed to visit his granddaughter, Sylvia, out west in California at the family's ancestral homestead. It was more than a matter of necessity to have preparations for such a visit since his workplace was out in Washington D.C., on the East Coast. For months at a time, he would have to leave his granddaughter out there since she refused to leave and Noventa himself couldn't bear to have him upset with him. So leaving the house staff with explicit instructions to keep an eye on her and to make sure she didn't get into any trouble, he would leave to come to the place where the corruption in this great country was at its worst.

As you can see, he was very eager to pack up and leave for a couple weeks, the same amount of time to set aside every three months no matter what. Only a matter of great national security could prevent from going, it was that important to him.

As he was closing up his office, a knock on the door provided a slight delay in his travel plans. He resigned himself to wasting a few seconds sending this latecomer away as he walked to the door and opened it.

"Why Colonel, it's an unexpected pleasure to see you," he greeted to the young, aristocratic man just outside his door.

"As always, the pleasure's all mine," the young man, in Noventa's eyes, replied with a deep voice that could charm the clothes off any woman who heard it.

This young man was a rising star in the military, despite being in the Air Force, and was quite popular among the ground troops and pilots, though not at the level as Noventa himself. He was tall, almost as tall as the large Admiral himself with ginger colored hair and forked eye brows that exemplified the nobility of his facial features that seemed to have been carved from marble itself. He stood at attention and his posture remained straight even as Noventa gave him a silent "at ease" as he welcomed the man into his office.

"So Colonel Khushrenada, what can I do for you?" Noventa inquired as he sat in his chair behind the desk, gesturing for the colonel to do likewise.

Colonel Trieze Khushrenada, the pride of the American Air Force, answered, "I see that you are in the process of leaving. Going to visit Sylvia?"

"You know me well," Noventa said as he leaned back. "It's that time again and I refuse to miss a visit. Family is a thing that I value too much to let me forsaken by the politics of petty bureaucrats. So, what is it that you have to tell me, Trieze?"

"Project Maxwell," Trieze stated, immediately bringing in a somber presence into the conversation. "I've done the checking up you wanted me to do but I have come into an impasse. I was able to get information that it is a government contract under General Septum's name and that it was made out to X Associates, Inc. Other than that, I can't get much specifics other than it is a weapons development project."

Frowning, Noventa looked contemplative as he looked up towards his office's ceiling. "A weapons project you say? If that's all there is to it, why has Septum stalled on giving me the specifics on it? Do you think he's hiding something?"

"No doubt about it," Trieze confirmed. "He was the one that blocked any further access I obtained during my inquires. Is there any thing you would like me to do while you are visiting your granddaughter?"

Noventa chewed on his lip as he thought. What was Septum trying to hide? What about it was so important that Septum would risk his job security trying to protect and shroud it in a dark cloak of secrecy? This wasn't the first time he thought it fishy but his patience was beginning to reach its limit as he waited for his answers.

Coming to a course of action, he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled a form that he began to fill out. "Take this," he instructed to the colonel. "This will get you an all-clearance pass that not even Septum can override. Now I'm trusting you with this, Colonel. I only want you to look at anything involved with Project Maxwell and nothing else. Do you understand me?"

"Absolutely," Trieze replied. "I'll handle this while you're gone. Just enjoy the time with Sylvia and I'll have everything ready for by the time you get back."

"Thank you Trieze," Noventa said, relief flooding his features. "I don't know what I did to deserve you but God bless you. Be careful while you're looking into this, though. I don't want you to tip Septum off to anything."

"Of course, Admiral," Trieze said as he stood up, saluting the elder. "I'll get on this first thing in the morning."

"Get the pass first before you leave tonight," Noventa stated. "First thing in the morning, I want you finding me my answers."

"Understood," Trieze said. "Have a good time, Admiral. Get some rest while you're at it."

"I intend to," Noventa laughed as the door closed behind the colonel.

---

"He doesn't know anything about it," Trieze spoke into a cell phone as he briskly walked down the hallways of the Pentagon. "However, he has given me the means to find out everything about it. The moment I find out something, I'll be sure to alert you to it."

Pausing, though not stopping his walk, he listened to the reply over the phone before speaking again.

"Understood. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to before I retire for the rest of the day."

Hanging up, the young colonel shook his head sorrowfully, his thoughts going out to Admiral Noventa, his mentor, father figure, and the only person brave enough to stand up in the mire of conspiracies that fogged down the citadel where freedom was sown.