Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.

Gundam Wing: The Little Princess

Chapter 5: Dance of Death

"Hey No Name! What are you doing picking up strays!"

"She is just a civilian so I figured there was no reason to waste bullets. Unless you want me to kill her?"

"Whoah! There's no need for that. I was just wondering; it's out of character for you. You finally get an interest in the fairer sex?"

"No."

"Argh! You're no fun to tease! Lighten up a bit! It's depressing to an old man like me to see a kid like you being so serious. Already hurts me enough to admit that you're the best damn soldier and mobile suit pilot I've ever seen. If I could spare your skills to allow you a normal life I would, but I can't. I'm sorry."

"There is no reason to apologize. This is my job."

"Hey No Name!" The mechanic looked up to see a large, cheerful man approaching him on the walk way. "Gloomy as ever I see."

It wasn't a question, so No Name didn't bother responding. He didn't understand why people liked talking to him so much, he never replied unless they were a superior officer. This man, Trowa Barton, could probably be considered one, due to the influence and importance he held as the son of the man funding the project No Name was currently working on, as well as being the pilot for the mobile suit that they were currently working on. Trowa didn't need him to reply to feel like talking though, so he just continued.

"It's a great day! The Gundam is almost ready, and with it, Operation Meteor will soon be initiated. The Earth won't know what hit it! And, once the stupid Earth Sphere Alliance falls, it's MY niece who will take over running things." He pulled out a picture and showed No Name a picture of a smiling young girl who bore no resemblance to Trowa. "Mariemaia will rule and I'll be the hero who brought it about!"

"What is she going to rule?" asked another mechanic No Name didn't know the name of. He seemed to be stressed, and had a hand in his toolkit. "You're dropping a colony down on Earth and killing everyone there!"

"The Earth deserves it, they've had it too good for too long!" declared Trowa proudly.

It was the wrong thing to say though as the mechanic pulled out a gun and before anyone could stop him, he had shot Trowa, dropping the large man to the ground. Blood pooled from his body and No Name took a step back, avoiding stepping in it.

"I have family on Earth," explained the mechanic, his voice full of emotion.

"Its fine," said a voice. No Name saw the scientist in charge of designing the Gundam, Doktor S, walk onto the walkway. He looked sadly at Trowa's body. "I myself had just failed to convince this fool that going through with the Colony drop was a bad idea. Instead I feel we should just go after only OZ bases, they're the enemy. Would that work for you?"

"Yes," replied the mechanic.

"Good, then let's finish this thing," replied Doktor S. "Before the Barton foundation finds out that their heir is dead. Sadly, we also need a skilled pilot for this machine, and on short notice too."

"I can pilot it," said No Name, speaking up finally.

"You?" asked Doktor S, sizing him up. "What's your name anyways?"

"I don't have one, everyone just calls me No Name."

"And you have experience piloting mobile suits?"

"Quite a bit actually," replied No Name. "I worked for a rebel faction down on Earth, before they were all killed by a spy in our midst."

"Hmmm," said Doktor S, thinking. "You'll do."

"So you want to work at the circus, do you kid?" asked the Circus Manager, staring down the newcomer who had just approached him from out of the blue. Catherine watched, impressed as the young man just stared impassively back, unintimidated.

"Yes, I do," replied the newcomer.

"And why should I hire you?" asked the Manager. "I'm plenty up on employees so unless you have some actual experience or any reason to convince me, then get out."

Instead of replying this time, the newcomer just walked over to the nearby lion cage. The lion started growling at him, but he paid it no heed. Then, before Catherine or the manager could stop him, he had stuck his hand into the cage, directly in front of the lion's mouth.

"What are you doing you damn fool!" yelled the manager, rushing over. He made to pull the newcomer away from the cage but before he could, the lion made its move. But instead of biting off his hand the lion rubbed up against it, a contented rumbling coming from its throat. The Manager just gaped. "How?"

"Animals can sense fear," replied the newcomer, a slight smiling appearing on his face. "You just need to show none."

The manager looked once more between the lion and the newcomer. He stroked his beard in thought and seemed to come to a decision.

"Fine, you're hired. How do you feel about accepting the role of a fearless, masked clown?" asked the Manager.

"That would be perfect," said the newcomer.

"And what's your name?"

"You can know me by…Trowa Barton," responded Trowa, only a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Amazing," marveled Catherine.

"You ready Trowa?" asked Catherine, quite pointlessly. He was ready. He was a soldier, and had been all his life, he was always ready. He didn't even bother to respond, just staring impassively at the brown haired woman through his mask, the right side a clown face while the left was missing, revealing his own impassive features. Catherine just gave a tired sigh, something she did often, and then she smirked. "Now don't flinch."

Catherine threw several knives into the air and deftly caught all of them, eliciting cheers from the crowd surrounding them. The circus tent was packed, and had been for the several days they had been in town. Either the crowd didn't realize that in the outside world a war was being waged, or they did and needed the distraction, it wasn't something he cared about either way though, only fighting the war mattered. Trowa was currently strapped to a wooden board, entertainment for the crowd. It wasn't a bad job though, it paid well enough; not that he needed money. His supporters were very well off and had supplied him with a small fortune before he had set off to Earth on his mission. But the job did supply food and a place to stay, always moving as it was. The moving around was the best part though, following the path of the circus meant that the attacks he was making on OZ bases seemed to be at random to any actual military strategist.

Catherine stared at him, part in concentration, and as part of the theater of things. She stared right into his eyes, and he just stared back. She threw the first knife, and it found its way right below his right armpit. The crowd roared its approval. With a larger smirk, Catherine threw two knives at once next, one flying right above his head, and the other by his left knee. She muttered under her breath, but Trowa was able to read what she said.

"Come on, it's no fun if you don't act a little scared."

She seemed amused. He wasn't paid to act scared, and he couldn't if he wanted to. She'd have to find her amusement somewhere else. He'd been with the circus for a month so far, and this was his first performance. Before it had just been practice and travelling. He didn't need to practice much, his job as it currently was was extremely easy; stand still, and don't freak out. Catherine had been almost omnipresent in that whole time. She couldn't be much older than him, maybe 18 or 19, but she acted like a mother to all the performers and workers who helped make the circus move. Trowa found her bearable though. He didn't need her help, but she'd make a good character witness if Alliance Military came snooping around. Although he doubted they'd actually listen, her presence and activity wouldn't be detrimental.

Now as she looked into his eyes, she seemed like she was starting to become unnerved. Maybe she saw something she didn't like? Trowa didn't really know and didn't care. He closed his eyes, bored with the theater of things. He reopened them as he heard the whistle of the knives headed towards him. He could tell from Catherine's frightened expression that she had messed up when throwing them. Three knives, one headed towards his left hip, one towards his right hand, and the last towards his left cheek. The first two were fine, but the last one was flying too close. It was going to cut his cheek if he didn't dodge. But it wasn't going to be that deep, so it was fine. With three solid thwaks, the knives embedded themselves into the wooden board. Trowa felt the slight trickle of blood down his left cheek. The crowd cheered, crazy about the whole spectacle. An aide can over and loosened his bonds, freeing him from the board. Moving away from it, he bowed theatrically to the crowd, eliciting more cheers.

Once they had their fill, he moved off the circus floor, Catherine and several aides with the wooden board following right behind. He didn't stop until he made it to the lion's cage, sitting down on a box right in front of it. The lion looked up at him, saw who he was and then went back to resting. Trowa looked up as Catherine walked in.

"Why didn't you dodge!" said Catherine, glaring at him.

"I don't get paid to dodge," replied Trowa simply.

"Do you no care about your life or anything?" asked Catherine, concern in her voice. It wasn't something Trowa had heard for a while, it felt…weird.

"I saw that your knife wasn't going to hit me. There wasn't any danger. If you're so worried for me, why didn't you aim better?"

"I was distracted," admitted Catherine. "Looking into your eyes, there was no fear. And beyond that, no care for anything. It was…saddening. I don't like to see anyone looking like that, especially people I know."

Trowa just stayed silent, not sure how to respond. People like Catherine who talked a lot, would eventually respond to themselves anyways. And she did.

"You should take care of yourself more," she said. And then she flashed him a smile, winking at him. "And smile a bit more. You're a handsome young man. If you smile I bet you'll be fighting off the ladies with a stick!"

She turned and started to walk away, but then something occurred to her and she turned around to face him, embarrassment on her face.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I forgot to apologize! I was just chastising you this whole time instead! I apologize for hitting you and cutting your face!"

"It is fine," replied Trowa. Then he decided to add something else. Working muscles he hadn't for a long, long time, he flashed her a faint smile. "Don't worry about it."

"See! I knew you'd look better with a smile!"

Trowa sighed as he surveyed the battleground in front of him. His target was the Corsuca base of the Alliance. It contained an OZ factory that was creating mobile unit for the elite special Unit, known as the Specials, to use. The Specials were run directly by the leader of OZ, Colonel Trieze Kushrenada. His mission on Earth would be much easier if he took out the base, weakening the support to OZ.

His attack on the base had been going well so far. Despite no doubt having had Intel that he was headed to the base, and plenty of time to mobilize all of the bases' mobile suits, they still weren't putting up a tough fight. His Gundam's capabilities were varied and unknown to the enemy, putting them at a disadvantage, while he on the other hand knew all of what the Leo ground mobile suits (the bulk of the force he was against) and the Aires air mobile suits (top of the line suits no doubt piloted by the most elite of the Specials) could do.

Before worrying about the mobile suits, he focused his significant fire power on much softer targets. First were all of the stationary turrets. Before any forces could be mobilized, he had already destroyed the turrets with his load of micro missiles. The first responders were several groups of pilots in their Leo's. Trowa pulled up on the control stick and his Gundam, Heavy Arms, complied. Its left arm was equipped with a heavy Beam Gatling that could tear through even other Gundams if necessary. Heavy Arms swung the weapon in an arc, the spray of projectiles taking out an entire unit of Leo's in a single pass. He quickly followed up by using the two machine canons mounted on his shoulders.

"The enemy is so disorganized," commented Trowa, scanning the field quickly for his next target. He had been raised as a soldier on the battlefield, those not fit to fight, shouldn't even bother. "I wonder if the enemy commander is even trying to relay orders to their troops."

In his peripheral vision he saw tanks moving into position on both his left and right flank, trying to surround him.

"Strategically, when annihilating a small group of enemies, the best course of action is to cut of the retreat path and shower it with bullets. In this case, the commander's decision to surround and destroy the enemy was technically correct, however…"

Trowa didn't bother trying to use his left arm against the tanks. Instead he quickly turned and opened up his chest plating to reveal two Gatling guns hidden inside. They quickly showered the left rank of tanks with bullets, destroying them in a flash. Then, pivoting quickly on a single foot, he took out the other grouping of tanks, freeing him up from being out maneuvered.

"He should never have taken action before understanding his enemy's potential."

Trowa looked up and saw a blimp fleeing the battle. No doubt the commander trying to flee. Raising his beam Gatling he leveled it to take out the blimp but was assaulted by several Aires suits, swooping in to protect the commander. As they surrounded him, one charged in, no doubt realizing from his fighting style that Heavy Arm's was a long range combat suit. Or at least, that would be the case if Trowa hadn't made a little addition, just in case.

"Underestimating your enemy again," sighed Trowa.

A large combat knife, as long as his Gundam's forearm, popped out from its hiding place on his right arm. With a quick slash he tore the unsuspecting Aires in half, the pieces exploding harmlessly around him.

The rest of the Aires, five in total, had him surrounded though. He took aim at one with his beam Gatling, but a clicking noise signaled that he was out of ammo. He disengaged the heavy beam Gatling from his arm, freeing him from its weight so that he could fight with more mobility. He tried the chest Gatlings, but those also clicked empty.

"A minor oversight, he noted. "I'll need to install an ammo counter for all of my weapons in the future."

The group of Aires just hovered in position, studying him. One suddenly broke formation though, no doubt trying to capitalize on him being out of ammo.

"That was pretty fast," commented Trowa to himself. As he prepared to destroy the charging Aires with his combat knife, a bullet suddenly flew through the chest of the Aires, destroying it. Heavy Arms moved to shield itself from the explosion while Trowa looked for the source of the sniper. A shower of bullets started to rain from the edge of the base, more than even his Heavy Arms could supply. The Aires were torn apart, not even having a chance to fight back. Four of them exploded, while the fifth, the most competent it seemed, flew up and away from the battlefield. They were intercepted though as a mobile suit, a Gundam like his Heavy Arms, but clearly of a different design, charged onto the battlefield. The new Gundam ignored the shots fired at it by the Aires as if they were nothing, and using a pincer claw on its left arm, snipped the Aires in two with little resistance.

With the last of the enemies defeated, the newcomers focused their fire onto the Corsuca base, leveling it in seconds. They were mobile suits of a design Trowa didn't recognize, but not Gundams. They were all painted in colors appropriate for desert combat, and numbered, a whole mobile suit battalion. And the other Gundam, the one with the pincer, seemed to be their leader. The other suits made a perimeter around the two Gundams, which faced off. Trowa hadn't been informed of any allies for his mission, the exact opposite in fact. Everyone he met he was to treat as an enemy.

Trowa studied his opposite, looking for an opening. He found one when an OZ aircraft took off from a still intact hanger bay. As the other Gundam turned to look at the aircraft, Heavy Arms charged forward, firing his back thrusters for extra speed. He swung with his right arm, hoping to pierce through its chest and into the pilot with his knife. The other pilot was quick though and stepped to the side, dodging his attack. Quickly correcting, Heavy Arms pivoted on its front foot, letting the back one slide behind it. His foe noticed the maneuver, but wasn't able to react quick enough to dodge fully. Instead, Heavy Arms knife lodged in the enemy unit's armpit.

Before he could try to cut through though, the other Gundam closed its arm, trapping his knife. With its arm, the other Gundam grabbed onto Trowa's knife arm, locking it in place. Trowa directed Heavy Arms forward, kneeing the other Gundam in the stomach to try to separate them. But the other Gundam refused to let go and responded with a punch. Heavy Arms caught the punch and the two Gundams fought to see who was stronger, both apparently equal. Neither could move an inch, a true stalemate.

"The other pilot is good," commented Trowa. "And his suit is just as strong as mine. But he still has allies, this will end in my defeat."

But to Trowa's surprise, instead of a bullet to the back, something else happened. The other Gundam stopped moving. It just rooted itself in place, holding him with it. The chest armor of the other Gundam slid away and a ramp opened up. Out came a young man, no older than Trowa himself, wearing a pair of aviation goggles.

"We need to stop this!" yelled the other pilot, his voice reaching through Trowa's external microphones. "We shouldn't be fighting each other!"

Trowa was shocked at the other pilot's words. He gave himself a self-depreciating smirk. He beat me to the punch, I guess that makes him the true victor here," thought Trowa to himself. Pushing a button he also deactivated his Gundam, opening the outside hatch. He emerged, hands up in surrender. The other pilot just smiled sadly at him.

"Put your hands down," he said. "I was the first one to surrender and come out, remember?"

"And that's why I'm surrendering to you," replied Trowa, keeping his hands up.

"I just want to talk to you, is that ok?" asked the other pilot, smiling cheerfully at him. "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner, and this is my Gundam, Sandrock."

"My name is of no consequence," replied Trowa. He saw Quatre's smile deflate and decided to change his answer. "But if you must know, my name is Trowa Barton, and this is Heavy Arms."

"It's nice to meet you Trowa," said Quatre, smiling again. "I never expected to see another Gundam piloting fighting against OZ like I am."

Further talk was interrupted as a speaker clicked on from one of the mobile suits following Quatre.

"Master Quatre," said a deep, worried voice. "Can we continue this conversation in safer circumstances?"

"Yes Rashid," replied Quatre, deferring to the pilot called Rashid. "That would probably be for the best. Everyone, prepare to move out and retreat!"

Quatre turned back to Trowa, who was still keeping his hands up. Couldn't be too careful with an unknown who kept so many subordinates around, even one as friendly as Quatre.

"Would you like to accompany us back to our base?" offered Quatre. "You'll be able to rest and resupply there. Plus, I would like to talk to you more if you're up for it."

"I accept your offer," replied Trowa quickly. If Quatre or his troops meant him harm, they had already passed up innumerable chances to do so. He was probably safe with this Gundam pilot. He'd make sure to stay on guard though, just in case…