Hey, peeps~! Here's the next chapter of The Phoenix Rising. I hope you guys are ready for what's coming here. ;) Next up is the final stage of the siege of Satellite City. And trust me, this one is gonna be a doozy! ;3
- operation meteor: Thanks! Glad ya liked it! I wanted this one to be the final battle here, as it will also shatter the reputation of Ghost Squadrons as invincible soldiers. And glad ya liked Turbine's stunt with the aerial drop! XD I wanted to show his creative - and I will admit desperate - side. ;3
- 1800009trumbullps . net: Thanks! :) Glad ya liked the references. :3
- CT7567Rules: Hey, you just gave me an idea, but no spoilers~! ;3
(The screen shows only blackness before a small light is shown in the center, growing larger until a fire ignites, panning around to show the Strike Dagger S equipped with the Phoenix Striker flying through space, a tattered American flag shown flapping on a flagpole in a huge colony)
START MIKAKUNIN HIKOUSEN BY TAKAYOSHI TANIMOTO
(The camera pans in towards the colony where it shows several members of the resistance gathered: President Eisenhower, Steven Krane, Mackenzie Samantha Allen, Turbine Martinez, Keith Martinez, Marcus Wolcott and his squadron, Warren Thompson, Robert "Rob" Jackson, Kyle Eisen, and Turbine's squad mates)
Oh yeah! Be strong, jump on, and become the wind (The group is standing before the Redemption in the background, a shadowing mobile suit above them and below the ship)
Pass the orbit beyond the sky (The camera pivots away from them and out to show a map of the Atlantian Reich split into two colors: blue showing the resistance and purple showing the Reich)
I can't hold back this rushing speed (The camera zooms in on Denver as Eisenhower is shown standing atop a tank, waving her hand as she barks an order into a headset she's wearing)
A familiar town becomes a diorama (The screen is flooded with dust as a tank speeds by, showing a single pinprick of light as a shuttle is launched into orbit from Orb)
Burst through the unclear skies (The camera pivots away to show another explosion as a Murasame blasts past, bearing the emblem of Sicario)
Blow away your worries and discontent (The camera zooms in on the wolf head emblem before it starts to flutter as a flag, panning down to show the leader of Sicario, Arnold Franken, on the screen)
Who needs a journey that's by the book? (The commander of the mercenaries waves his hand and three mobile suits blast overhead, their pilots shown with their emblems behind them)
Even if you're lost or trembling, raise the altitude (The mobile suits fly overhead, panning down to show Sicario's Pacific Fleet, each heading towards Orb, the shadow of Djibril over it, his hands cupping around the island)
Oh yeah! Show off, mess up, and stand back up (The image is suddenly shattered as a huge gun shell slams into it before the camera pans to the left to show two ships in shadow, both bearing the flag of the United States Navy)
I'll watch the unknown horizon with you (The camera pans away to show the captain of the Archangel and Heero standing beside one another, their hands entwining)
Now be strong, jump on, and become the wind (The two look at one another before a mobile suit flies past, panning up to show the Strike Dagger clashing with a shadowy mobile suit)
Use the sun that lights tomorrow as a guide (A sinister dark aura surges out from the mobile suit, twin eyes glaring at the assembled warriors, the image of Durandal shown off to the side)
Fly off to the glorious world of freedom! (The image shows the resistance ship and their allies facing down the dark shadow, Djibril's face behind it as he looms over them)
GUNDAM WING: THE PHOENIX RISING
Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall
- Steven Jackson 'Spray' Krane
CHAPTER XLIII: Operation: Ghostbusters
DECEMBER 19th, CE 0073
Start YOU SAY RUN - My Hero Academia OST - by 林 ゆうき
His eyes darkened as he gripped his beam sabers and crouched his machine. "You...will not spew any more of that vile hatred around here!" he growled.
As he said those words, he could feel the dark side of him surging out and he wanted nothing more than to kill these men like they had done his father and mother.
No mercy was to be spared.
Robert didn't even hesitate as he lunged forward, his beam sabers flashing as he swung them at the closest Windam. The Windam brought its beam sabers up to block the frenzied assault, but the Coordinator was not about to give up. His eyes narrowed as he proceeded to break the block and bring one saber down to cut into the knees of the Windam. The pilot broke away at the last second and aimed his rifle before firing.
However, Rob was not about to let that get to him.
He brought up one beam saber... and slashed as hard as he could, the blade actually deflecting the beam away from him and out into the middle of the fighting, killing a number of Atlantian soldiers as they tried to swarm the rest of the attacking resistance fighters from behind. The pilot staggered back, his machine's optical visor seeming to widen in shock. He shakily raised a beam saber, pointing it right at Rob.
"W-W-What are you!?" he squealed.
Rob just glared at him with pure hatred in his eyes. "Your worst nightmare." That was all he said as he lunged for the Windam with a speed that surprised even himself. He brought up both beam sabers and cleaved the arms right off before drawing both blades back and slamming both right into the cockpit. The Windam seemed to shudder and then the sizzling of blood reached his hearing before the COMMs went dark. He pulled back and the Windam exploded. The Coordinator then spun and charged at another Windam.
This one aimed its beam rifle and fired frantically at him, but Rob's faster reflexes allowed him to move between the beams and deflect those that he couldn't dodge with a swipe of his beam sabers. With the darkness fueling him, he was a nightmare to these men, these cowards who did not see the next generation or respect Americans. They were monsters, and as such, needed to be purged from the very earth itself. He placed both beam sabers back on his machine's side skirt armor and reached towards the scaled-up DC-17 replicas from Star Wars. The signature weapons used by one of the clone troopers, these things were like beam guns in their own right. And Rob was adept at using them, as simulation runs had shown.
He pulled both free and aimed them before firing a slew of red beam shots right for the Windam pilot. The man brought his shield up in the nick of time, but barely. A few shots grazed his armor, but didn't penetrate the shield otherwise. The pilot waited for a few seconds more before he pulled his shield aside and fired his beam rifle a few more times. But Rob was on the move, dodging the shots and getting in close for a point-blank range attack. He jammed both his pistols on the chest of the Windam and squeezed the triggers, firing directly into the cockpit and blowing it up. He pulled back just before the Windam exploded, just as something struck the back of the Defender Gundam and sent him staggering forward. He cried out as he collapsed to one knee, glancing back over his shoulder as his eyes hardened into nothing but bronze shards.
Pure hatred filled his heart as he spun around, pointing both guns at the Windam that had attacked him and fired, a loud scream escaping his throat. "Blue Cosmos... you WILL DIE HERE!" he roared.
The pilot behind him leapt back and drew his beam saber before moving in and swinging for the Coordinator's left flank. Rob spotted this and jerked his controls back, jamming both his Gundam's feet into the ground before hitting the thrusters and getting airborne. The two remaining Jet Windams followed, and he glanced down before he punched the throttle, and then as soon as he had some distance, he triggered the transformation for his machine.
The legs folded up into the rear of its secondary form while the chest folded up, becoming the cockpit of the aircraft. The arms folded inward and the wings snapped out into their correct configuration. The beam pistols were attached to the sides of the nose as the head descended into the newly created fighter jet. But this was no ordinary fighter jet.
This was the F-14 Tomcat, reformed and modernized into an aerial combat mobile suit.
Rob gripped the controls and gunned it, speeding around as the Windams followed. He angled the wings back as the mobile suits opened fire, and he put himself into a spiraling motion, curving tighter and tighter before he punched it to full supersonic speed. The sonic boom was enough to throw the Windams off target and he banked around, the targeting reticle for his beam pistols dancing across the HUD in front of him. His eyes narrowed as he gripped the controls before pushing the button to fire the guns.
Blue beam bullets rocketed out, stitching a path through the air for the Windams. Both machines broke left and right, but Rob was not deterred. Instead, he put his plane into a steep climb, punching out flares to deter any possible missile strikes to his rear. And it was just as well, for they both let loose a pair of missiles. The Coordinator's eyes darkened as he suddenly cut his engines, falling from the air as the Windams came in with beam sabers going. They tried to cut him in half, but they barely missed as his plane plummeted from the air.
Then, he kicked on the engines once more. The thrust from the turbines was enough to push him forward, and the wings snapped out to full width as he began to climb back up towards his adversaries. Only this time, he had a plan.
He waited a few moments before he pressed the transformation sequence again, only this time the legs and arms unfolded only, surprising the Windam pilots as they tried to grab the plane. Rob drew both beam sabers before gunning the engines and charging in, a surge of dark feelings overcoming him. He screamed out as he brought both blades back, and the cyan beams became pure shockwaves of energy as he swiped with them, cleaving both Windams in half at the waist and up through the chest before exiting the right and left shoulders respectively. The two mobile suits hovered like that for a moment as Rob sped past before they exploded.
Rob was by now panting, sweat starting to drip down his face as he finally shifted from the mobile walker mode into full mobile suit mode. He glanced down, that dark energy reflected in his eyes as he landed his machine near the terrified commandant. He started to walk closer, the footsteps of his machine sounding like death knells to him. "No more... of this...!" he hissed, panting from his battle.
"You... will... die... Nazi!" he growled.
He prepared to draw back a beam saber to incinerate the commandant, only for a voice that he knew all too well to reach out.
"ROB!"
His eyes widened as he realized what was going on. The hatred bubbling within him began to dissipate and he stared as on the cockpit monitor, an image of his sister appeared. Her eyes were wide as she placed her hands on the console she had commandeered; the unfortunate launch controller was pushed to the side, one of his eyes squinted shut, trying to reach the mike.
"A-Aly...?" he rasped.
"Rob, stop it! We've already got the commandant in custody!" Alyssa pleaded, her eyes wide in horror. "Please... What would mom and dad want?!"
The Coordinator slowly slumped back in his seat as he lowered the beam saber, shutting it down and replacing it on the side skirt armor, along with the first one. He closed his eyes, and within his mind, he swore he saw the disappointed looks of his ancestors, and he silently prayed for their forgiveness.
It was not in his nature to mindlessly kill. But the sheer hatred he felt for those so-called purists was enough to almost always overwhelm him.
In some way, it was a good combat booster, but at the same time it was not. He silently thanked his ancestors that his sister was there to call him back from the brink when he was going too far.
With this in mind, he slowly pressed the communications button for the encrypted radio. "Spider, this is Owl-1. Mission... complete."
The radio crackled with static before he heard her voice.
"Understood, Owl-1. Stand by for further orders," Spider replied.
The young man nodded before he closed his eyes and sighed, exhaustion taking its toll on him. He needed a good long rest after this...
End YOU SAY RUN - My Hero Academia OST - by 林 ゆうき
DECEMBER 28th, 0073 CE
SATELLITE CITY, CHIHUAHUAN DESERT, MEXICO
"Who you gonna call?" Keith Martinez growled out.
His opponent studied him critically for a brief moment before he threw back his machine's head and cackled. "You honestly think a mere rat such as yourself can defeat me in a mobile suit?!" Bruno chortled.
Keith didn't answer with words. Instead, he discarded the used launcher and set down the bag containing the other launchers. He reached in and pulled out another launcher tube with missile equipped and rested it on his shoulder. He narrowed one SEED-dilated eye and pulled the trigger a moment later. The sleek white missile sped through the air, arcing skyward like its namesake weapon before descending, heading right for one of the joints. Bruno brought up his machine's right arm, but in doing so he exposed the damaged shoulder joint of the left arm.
The Javelin missile struck it and exploded, the dual charges shredding all the wires and the weakened supports, causing the arm to fall off to the ground below. It landed and Keith took the chance to toss aside the second launcher and pull out a third. He aimed and fired again, then discarded the third launcher and pulled out a fourth. He shifted his aim this time right for the right knee, only to lose his aim as a Loto was slammed into the cliff face below him. He just about staggered, only to regain his balance and shift his aim once more. This time, taking into account his new position, he fired the missile. The Javelin arced through the air like a divine arrow, striking the side skirt armor and melting the armor to the hip joint partially.
While not what he wanted, it would have to do, he mused as he dumped the fourth launcher and whipped out a fifth. He had only two left, so he had to make them count. He aimed this one at the optical sensor, but the Windam Reaper was moving too fast to get a lock on it. He growled as his eyes then landed on the downed form of Turbine. His teeth gritted even harder as he spotted the Windam that had lopped off his left wing. The cut looked clean, so it would be easy to reattach, he mused as he saw one of the last three members of Strider Squadron and the last member of Retribution Squadron both jump the unit.
With that machine being taken care of, he could focus on his own adversary.
Bruno howled in laughter as he charged at Keith's location, but the man wasn't letting up. He aimed the Javelin at the incoming Windam and fired again, this time straight down the mountain's cliff. The missile struck the faceplate, shattering the optical sensor's glass, but leaving the cameras intact. Keith tossed aside the fifth launcher and pulled out his last one. He wasn't about to let this man get him now, nor was he going to let his son die to this beast!
Keith tensed, and slowly, his finger squeezed the trigger of the launcher.
The missile fired.
Time seemed to slow down as his last missile flew right at the Windam Reaper. Bruno jerked his machine's controls and slowly began to arc to the right. Keith felt his heartrate soar double time as he felt sweat running down his face. There was no way he was going to hit him... The missile was off... He just knew it...
But the missile didn't go off course. The weapon struck the rocky facade below...
And exploded, sending stone shrapnel upwards and into the face of the Windam!
The entire head was shredded by the blast. Bruno cried out as he broke off, switching to the lower resolution backup cameras. He peeled to the left, his Windam now missing its head and only relying on its backup cameras and with one arm entirely missing.
By all means, he should have been forced to fall back. But there was no way it was going to be that easy, he knew.
Bruno was now a total berserker, and even a damaged machine was not about to stop him.
He resumed his fight, charging in with an animalistic roar that made people wince and flinch. To his credit, Keith didn't even flinch from the sound. Instead he stood there, holding his last launcher in his hands, panting as he saw the way that Bruno was now cleaving his way through the other resistance units with apparent ease. His eyes were wide as he stared in pure shock.
Start BREAK TOGETHER - Black Clover: Sword of the Wizard King OST - by Kankaku Piero
Was there any way to stop this madman?
He just didn't know.
He could only watch as Marcus's Blast dashed in and clashed beam sabers with beam scythe. In the cockpit of his Blast, Marcus's eyes were narrowed beneath his helmet, teeth gritted as he tried to keep the blade back from the chest of his machine. "Dammit...!" he grunted. "This guy is just an animal at this point!"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Bruno cackled. "This is what you insects deserve! Soon, I shall feast on your flesh and become stronger than you can imagine!"
"You're insane!" Marcus spat. "No one does that in this day and age! And no one should do that in this day and age! We are not savages, nor are we cavemen! We are civilized beings!"
"Oh? Is that so?" Bruno mused. "Then explain the sheer barbarities that were carried out during the last war, hmmm?"
"That was due to Rau le Creuset's crazy manipulations of the leadership of both ZAFT and LOGOs!" Marcus hissed. "That was manufactured hatred that went to extremes! His nihilism infected them and drove them to do barbaric things, and in return LOGOs and ZAFT both seized on it and called the other barbarians based on the actions of only a few! You'd be surprised as to how many people actually fought back against it!"
"And how did they, fool?" Bruno asked as he pushed his beam scythe closer to Marcus's chest. He braced his legs and shifted his grip before breaking the lock and jerking to the left with his maneuvering thrusters. "Because there was no way anyone fought back during Panama, or Alaska."
"Maybe not at first glance, but a fair number of our forces were there! And their efforts to stop the slaughter by their commanding officers just about landed them a court martial if they didn't participate! But they refused and tried to shield as many ZAFT soldiers as they could, usually by escorting them in groups of ten to fifteen to shelter in the woods or caves or wherever they wouldn't be found!" Marcus explained. "That was enough to lead a number of them to defect and turn to those soldiers and their families for help! It wasn't easy, but they were taken underground and they offered their help in trying to bring down LOGOs!" He brought one beam saber back as he holstered the other one and drew his signature rifle.
"Then those fools are race traitors," Bruno tittered.
"No." Marcus narrowed his eyes dangerously. "They were human. And they were doing the right thing in giving them shelter when they needed it most." He then shook his head sadly. "It's clear to me that LOGOs forgot that to be human is to try and help your fellow humans when they are in trouble." His eyes then hardened as he gripped his weapons and brandished them. "As a result... they will pay for their actions!"
Bruno couldn't help but cackle like a mad hyena. "You truly think that many will just welcome your country back into the civilized world with open arms!? Look around you! Your reputation as a democracy has been shattered! You will forever be seen as barbarians and facist racist countrymen who will kill any and all Coordinators, murder innocents, and torture children, all in the name of Natural supremacy and genetic purity! Your country is defeated in every sense of the word, rebel scum!"
Marcus hung his head, his eyes in shadow as he gritted his teeth. "You're wrong..." he growled.
Bruno didn't answer as he lunged, screaming out in pure ecstasy as he swung his scythe towards his Blast.
"You're wrong on everything..." Marcus murmured.
In his mind, he could see the faces of those who had died. All of them, ranging from Alicia to Kevin, whose GM was lying trashed on the mountain, Gwen crying over her lover's death. He could see the dead shown on the news. He could see everyone. And he could hear them, too.
Not in the sense of voices in his head. He was not insane. He could hear their feelings crying out for justice. All of them, urging him on.
Within the chest of his Blast, the NWCOMM device that had been installed during the resupply and repair began to glow softly. His feelings resonated with the device, sending extra power directly to the hydraulics and systems of his machine. But it didn't stop there.
Bruno's eyes widened in shock as a surge of power seemed to erupt off the Blast, and then a strange, shimmering aura began to coat the unit, starting from the feet up and working its way up the legs. The covering spread to the chest, the torso, the arms, and then the head. The Blast lifted up its head and then its golden faceplate flashed bright sunlight gold.
"You are wrong on all counts, bastard!" the voice of the pilot screamed. "You have no idea how hard we've been fighting to right that! Unlike what you think, we've done the impossible and shattered that perception across the globe! You think we have no plans in place for that?! Then you're wrong! And it all stems back to one thing!"
"What?" Bruno asked, worry starting to color his features.
"Technical communications, kid!" the pilot shouted, a sneer in his voice. "Your masters were exploiting them, so we did them one better! They're now going to be given livable wages and proper recognition for their skills!"
Bruno was floored.
"And that's not all!" the pilot of the unit he was facing continued. "The Atlas Firewall has fallen! The world can now see what's really been going on here, and of how we are now at war with you! And despite what you think..."
He crouched his machine and lunged, his machine's thrusters flaring and propelling him forward.
"AMERICA..."
He drew back his beam saber and slashed as hard as he could, cleaving off the right wing of his Jet Striker Pack. Bruno grunted from the sudden strike and turned to try and retaliate.
"IS..."
But the pilot was too fast and ducked under his scythe's swing before he lashed in another slash, cutting off the left wing. It landed on the ground and he was forced to recalibrate his machine's systems to compensate for the loss of the Jet Striker.
"BACK!"
The pilot broke away and aimed his linear rifle at the Windam Reaper. Bruno's eyes went wide as he saw the projectiles fire, the last three in the weapon. They exited the rifle, the aura covering them and trailing away from the unknown unit as it boosted backwards out of the range of the explosion.
An explosion rocked the battlefield, and everyone watched in shock and horror as the fireball engulfed the area where they were fighting, and the downed Turbine. The rest of Ghoul Squadron had been eliminated as well, leaving those that had done the job to hover or stand there in shock. Thick smoke curled skyward, and everyone was filled with dread and hope in equal mixture, one thought filling all of their minds.
Was Bruno dead?
The smoke rose from the ground, concealing the remains of the explosion. There were remnants of metal parts scattered all over, including mobile suit limbs. One was even recognize able as a black and white limb... one that came from...
"No..." Keith murmured, hoping against all hope that it was just a terrible dream, a nightmare he could wake from.
But a dream it was not. The limp black and white arm was laying there, lifeless. There was no sign of him... of Turbine... save for the arm that remained.
All that they had worked for...
All that they had accomplished...
All that they had hoped for...
Was...
Gone...
The commander of Satellite City didn't want to believe it, but it was true.
The AI he had practically raised, that had become like a son to him... was gone...
The leader of Ghoul Squadron was laughing like a maniac at what he had just done. "Fool! Taking that blast head on! And for what? To save someone? Hah! Those who need to be saved are weak, don't deserve to live!"
Keith wanted to rush out there, to put an end to the madman's crazy ranting using a weapon of his own, but it would only cost him his life in a reckless manner. And Turbine... trying to avenge him wasn't worth it, not if it cost the resistance one of their commanders.
"Sir! There's movement!" someone blurted out over his headset. "It's hard to see in the smoke, but it's there!"
Keith looked up, and sure enough, he could see movement in the smoke. A form was seen, but what it was, Keith couldn't make it out the smoke was too thick.
Keith's eyes narrowed a bit, only for him to see the form was obscured by the smoke again. Then, he saw the form in a new location, almost as if it was a ghost, or some sort of phantom that had been summoned to the battlefield.
Smoke obscured the form once more, but when Keith saw it again, he caught on to the path of the form and its direction. His eyes went wide as he realized where the form was headed. 'What the heck?! It's approaching Ghoul Squadron's leader?!'
"You fools will suffer for the rest of your days! No one will save anyone else! Those times are long gone, the era of the strong begins anew!" The crazy madman continued to cackle. "The era of LOGOs is about to begin anew, and all who defy them shall be put on the rack before the new lords of this world of weaklings, with the strong men in control! The true lords will always prevai-GHACK!"
The sudden squelching and cough caught Keith's attention as his gaze snapped up to the monitor, showing the machine of Ghoul Squadron's leader. There, sticking out from the chest of the Windam Reaper, was an ignited cyan beam saber!
Keith looked behind the machine, only to see something he didn't believe was possible. There, standing in an attack stance, was a battered and scorched Gundam type machine that was black and white in coloring. The white parts were covered in a few burn marks and melted armor, and one of the lower arms of the machine was missing, but the machine seemed to be intact otherwise. Twin blue optics flared as Keith heard a familiar voice over the open COMM line.
"Your lords will only pay the price for their crimes against all of humanity, sicko..." the deep voice of Turbine rumbled.
Everyone was shocked.
Not only had the explosion failed to kill Ghoul Squadron's commander, but it had failed to exterminate Turbine. The AI's only real injuries were a missing wing and lower arm. Sure he was in rough shape, but he was at least alive...
He was alive...?
He was alive...!
HE WAS ALIVE!
End BREAK TOGETHER - Black Clover: Sword of the Wizard King OST - by Kankaku Piero
Start SACRIFICE AND PEACE - FRIENDSHIP - My Hero Academia: World Heroes' Mission OST - by Yuki Hayashi
Only silence reigned on the battlefield before the AI's legs buckled and he collapsed, followed shortly by the Windam Reaper.
Both machines landed side by side as the sun began to poke over the horizon.
The last of the reinforcements Ghoul Squadron had mustered slowly began to power down their machines, kneeling them and shutting off all systems. The cockpits opened and the pilots emerged, holding their hands up in the air as soldiers formerly loyal to the Atlantian Reich began to throw down their weapons and hold their hands up as well.
The resistance forces still present were quick to take advantage of this and started to engage in active prisoner roundup. The men were ushered into the city, past all the carnage and slaughter they had been an active part of. Some of them looked deeply mournful and a few were just stone silent as they were led into the city itself. Already hundreds of civilians that had remained within the complex were coming out to see these former supermen who now looked like they had been beaten soundly. Like they had had common sense and reason beaten into them by this sound and crushing defeat.
But that was nothing compared to the sudden rushing of footsteps as people began to swarm out of the city, racing to meet their defenders and the Hero of Satellite City. Keith was the first one to reach the downed Gundam-type, his eyes no longer in SEED Mode. He was exhausted, but he was terrified more for the safety and well-being of the AI he saw as his son. He still held in his hand the used Javelin launcher, but he could care less as he ran. "TURBINE!"
He came to a stop near the downed machine, his eyes roving over the battered chassis and frame, taking in the missing wing and severed forearm. There was no way they'd be able to get the repairs needed done in time for the launch. So he had to prioritize either the wing or the arm.
But he could worry about that later. He finally started to walk towards the machine's helm, those cyan optics dark.
"Turbine...?"
Slowly, the helm began to turn as those optics brightened to their usual cyan hue. "F...Father...?" Turbine rasped.
"You... You idiot!" Keith yelled, running over and grasping the AI's left shoulder guard. "You had us worried!"
"I'm sorry if I worried you, Father," Turbine said. "But... I had to do something to convince him I was destroyed."
"Still... I'm glad you're alive, Turbine," the AI expert whispered. "I'm just glad you're alive."
Turbine couldn't help but chuckle at that. He then turned his gaze onto the horizon, noticing the sun as its rays began to poke over the mountains. "Strange..." he murmured. "I've never really considered how beautiful the sunrise is until now..."
To the wounded AI, the sun was unlike anything he had ever seen. The red slowly inching up along the horizon, mixed with the red-orange and yellowish hues that could only be countered by the deep blues above, slowly turning into black as it vanished into the abyss overhead. The sky was starting to turn a gorgeous shade of blue, and all he could think about was how beautiful it looked. It almost resembled a painting, he noted with slight awe.
Marcus's footsteps reached their hearing and both AI and human turned their gazes to him as he approached, panting heavily. His Blast was positioned close by, having knelt just after the surrender began. He glanced to the AI with concern in his eyes. "You okay, Turbine?" he called.
The AI managed a weak thumbs up with his undamaged right servo.
The rebel ace collapsed on his butt, sighing in relief. "Thank God..." he whispered.
Keith then turned his gaze towards the Windam Reaper. His eyes narrowed as he stood up and walked over to it, kicking the broken left shoulder socket for good measure. "Good riddance to him!" he spat.
"For what it's worth, he wasn't worthy of being defeated by a resistance ace," Turbine hissed. "But then again, what did he know about us?"
"Right. They know nothing," Keith admitted as he looked back at the group. "And this time, well... we gave them a real beatdown. LOGOs' special operations squadrons? Feh!" He spat in the sand. "They don't deserve to be called men."
"Then... what are they called?" Marcus asked.
A few others by now had gathered, and everyone looked at one another in confusion.
Keith responded with a smirk. "Toddlers. That's what they're acting like, right?"
Turbine was silent for a moment, before he suddenly began to chuckle. "Toddlers? More like terrible twos, if that's what the term is, right?"
Keith broke out into pure laughter, followed by Turbine, then Marcus and the rest of the gathered soldiers and pilots.
To Turbine, he hated to admit it, but this was perhaps the best moment of his life so far. Having just won a major battle and shattered the reputation of the Ghost Squadrons as invincible supermen was one thing. But to just merely laugh with his friends and family? Well, that first rush of victory couldn't even compare to that. And for once, he didn't feel so... lifeless... anymore. It was like something had filled his chest, completely filling in the void he had once felt so much. And it felt... good. Better than he had thought possible.
He felt like he was truly alive now.
No.
He shook his helm. He didn't feel like he was alive.
He knew it.
He was alive.
He was alive in the same sense as his human kin.
He was truly sentient now, and he understood what Bruno had meant.
He could create art. He had just done so by comparing the sunset to a painting. And he wanted to remember that sunset forever. So he glanced back to it and took a quick picture using his recording equipment. Then, he saved it into his memory banks as a special picture, one he could look at and remember he was truly alive now in every sense of the word.
Turbine Martinez did exist after all, he thought happily.
End SACRIFICE AND PEACE - FRIENDSHIP - My Hero Academia: World Heroes' Mission OST - by Yuki Hayashi
. . .
DECEMBER 28th, CE 0073
ANCHORAGE, ALASKA
The entire city was abuzz with activity, and for a very good reason.
Anchorage, Alaska was now known as Fortress Anchorage.
The newly created fortress was one of the last holdouts in Alaska for Blue Cosmos and LOGOs, with over two hundred thousand personnel stationed there to act as defenders for the newly constructed mass driver known as the Azrael Mass Driver, named for their former leader and now their so-called God. And with the latest defenses for the base, there was no way that any rebel could get close to the outer perimeter.
However, what Djibril did not know was that the resistance had long since mapped out the entire state, and set up a number of bases there that were connected via well-maintained roads and even some railway tracks. Although these were cleverly hidden, they were still operational, and a few... surprising discoveries... had been made pertaining to the mysteries of the Alaskan wilderness. Things such as deceased bodies from centuries' past to old military bunkers left to rot littered the area, and some of them were even repurposed into active bases for the rebels. Such hideaways were perfect for their use, and as such, it made them even harder to spot and find in this wilderness.
And it was just as well, because many of LOGOs' personnel were out and actively hunting for them, but were unable to find the rebels.
But that also worked in the resistance's favor because they were then able to ambush and interrogate a number of said personnel. And yet, even with that, while they did get knowledge of the base's defenses, there was no way for them to actively breach them with their numbers. They only had at most one hundred and fifty thousand active pilots and fighters, with the majority being civilians. That was a bad thing as they could not rely on half-trained civilians for their replacements.
But at the same time, this was perhaps a good thing, as their allies in the Equatorial Union were able to provide some support. The only downside was that it was going to take time to muster up the support required, and although the Republic of East Asia was closer, their President was not willing to risk it all and and was only working to keep his nation out of the fighting. So it fell to the Union to take their place in the fighting, and perhaps to showcase that they too were not about to stand by and let LOGOs continue their senseless crusade even further.
Colonel General Louis Huntington stood before the assembled troops, studying the base's skyline and narrowing his eyes behind his binoculars.
Beside him stood his second-in-command, Corporal Heidi Patton, her eyes fixed on the mass driver beyond. "You sure about this, sir?" she asked.
"For what it's worth, in all honesty, no," he admitted. "But we have our orders. We have to at least try to take that thing."
"It's crazy to try and take it with limited forces," Heidi pointed out. "If we wait until we get reinforcements, we should have a greater shot at taking it."
"But we can't wait," he told her. "If we take it now, we should be able to stall that Colonel Nazara or whatever his name is from heading into Earth orbit."
"Somehow I doubt it will be that easy," Heidi cautioned. "I would advise at least pulling a probing attack before we actually strike. Get a better idea of their defenses so to speak."
Louis could see her point, and actually, it made tactical and strategic sense to probe the defenses a bit more before pulling off the main attack. And it would also allow for him to gauge just what defenses they actually had. True interrogation could get them intel, but it wasn't foolproof. Oftentimes people just spilled stuff to avoid torture. And while his people did sometimes rough up captives, it wasn't actually torture in the sense of literal physical harm. Just a few punches and kicks, sometimes some pepper gas, but that was it. No mutilation, no psychological harm, no nothing.
Not like LOGOs, anyway.
He did admit that some of his troops were a bit too eager in their interrogations, but as long as they didn't outright kill their prisoner, he could look the other way for a while.
"All right. I'll send forward our reconnaissance squadron," he told her. "That should suffice for us at this time."
Heidi nodded, turning her gaze back towards the many defense lines and the steel wall that surrounded the city. It was a lot like a prison now, and she had to keep from scowling. The people trapped inside were sure to suffer if any of the rebels were caught, or even if they were seen trying to reach out to them. This was the last holdout for LOGOs, she knew, aside from Heaven's Base.
The information she had just received from one of their agents in Eurasia of the united front against LOGOs heading towards Heaven's Base was something that she knew was big. With the layout of the fleet, it made sense that they would have an advantage, at least on paper. But given the new machines that LOGOs was fielding, it wasn't that clear cut a victory. And then there was the mysterious Project: Reaper. Whatever it was, it was worrying to everyone, especially the President herself. And if she was worried, then it stood to assume that LOGOs' secret weapon was far more dangerous than they expected.
But right now, they had a new mission to carry out.
And she could only hope for the best.
. . .
Alfred Schwenke stood atop one of the watch towers scattered around the perimeter of the base, his blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon through his binoculars.
Already the mass driver was finishing construction, and with the rest of his unit, he was not about to let any pathetic rebels interfere in its completion. It also didn't help matters much that more people had turned away from the Glorious Crusade ever since the release of all the dissidents and political prisoners a few short days ago. The news was still covering the surprising revelation of more camps scattered across the country, and worst of all, the release of those half-daemon spawn hybrid humans, the Half-Coordinators.
And they had already murdered over half their captors and who knew what else? Many had actively even busted into their own homes and murdered the new owners in cold blood outside the city hall of the cities they had been evicted from, and some had even outright stolen back their businesses from the rightful Natural owners, demanding compensation from them and sometimes even just leaving them left naked in the streets. One such incident in Fairbanks had left a huge pile of naked bodies to block all streets to the city hall where the mayor had been tortured by those hybrid daemon spawn.
But it wasn't as bad as in Juno where the populace had actively risen up in arms to assist those daemon spawn and left the governor to starve to death in a cave with nothing but a loincloth and a spear made from his son's own pelvic bone. It was an utter travesty and embarrassment for the leadership of the country. And his own family had been tossed out from their manor in the sunny streets of Florida and cast adrift in the freezing Atlantic waters. So to him, this was personal.
And he was not about to let any rebels get to this base.
No matter what!
He turned to look at the entire left side of the base's perimeter, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted something moving in the trees. 'Vhat...?' he thought.
He adjusted the view of his binoculars, zooming in on that particular spot. But much to his annoyance, nothing was there. 'Feh. Perhaps it vas just a bird.'
However, he did not know how wrong he was. He turned his gaze towards the front of the gates, unaware of what was lurking out of sight.
. . .
Lieutenant Colonel Zachary Everdeen narrowed his eyes as he studied the barricades around the perimeter of the former city.
"Damn... they're not holding back here," he muttered.
He glanced to one of his soldiers, who was observing the situation through high-powered binoculars. She lowered them and turned to look at her superior. "Yeah. I've been counting a lot of mobile suits, mostly those Multi-Launcher Windams. I'm betting half my paycheck they're armed with anti-personnel missiles."
"Anti-personnel missiles... just another weapon to their slew of anti-human weaponry," the lieutenant colonel growled.
Anti-human weapons were classified as those mobile suit-used weapons that were designed to wipe out large numbers of civilians in cities, as the Grognard so aptly demonstrated with their Heavy Claymore weapons and the Jet Magnum close combat weapon. And as such, those, according to the resistance leadership, would be banned under international law once the resistance reclaimed America and the world's nations reinstated the United Nations.
His subordinate raised her binoculars again and scowled. "Not to mention they've got Jet Windams for possible aerial attacks," she noted.
Lieutenant Colonel Everdeen knew what she was referring to. "Yeah. But those can be taken out easily. It's those Multi-Launcher Windams we gotta watch out for."
He watched as one of said Windams adjusted its position before resuming its patrol route, and both soldiers ducked down low as one of the guards glanced their way. Thankfully their Jeep was very well concealed, so they could evade detection if they stayed low. Otherwise they'd be spotted and then everything was out the window and down the shitter.
"Anything else you saw?" he asked.
The soldier shook her head. "Not at first glance," she muttered. "We'll have to wait until dark to get in closer."
"All right." Everdeen nodded before he turned to the rest of his unit. "You all get that?"
"Yes, sir!" someone replied. Everyone else saluted before he turned back to the base.
"Good. Let's settle in for now. We'll see what else there is this evening," he told them.
. . .
DECEMBER 28th, CE 0073
SATELLITE CITY, CHIHUAHUAN DESERT, MEXICO
That afternoon it was a madhouse.
Repairs were being conducted on the mobile suits and already news feeds were broadcasting globally about the demise of the Ghoul Squadron, as well as the shattered reputation of Ghost Squadrons in general.
Keith sat in his office, eyes narrowed and hands tented in front of his mouth, as he listened.
"...with the demise of another Ghost Squadron at the hands of the resistance during the siege of the resistance stronghold in Mexico," an Atlantian news reporter was relaying. "Our reporter arrived on the scene earlier today to a scene of utter carnage."
The screen flickered as the cameraman panned around to show the destruction of both resistance and Atlantian machines and personnel alike. "It's an utter slaughterhouse down here, Ellen," the reporter remarked, his eyes showing nothing but horror. "I'm currently standing in the middle of the battlefield, and as you can see, all around me lie both rebel and Atlantian soldiers, although with how brutal the fighting apparently was, it is difficult to tell who is from what side. And on top of that, the remains of the Destroy that had been salvaged for this mission are missing, which leads me to conclude the resistance got their hands on it."
"How about any survivors?" Ellen Duprey asked.
"From the looks of things, there are no living survivors from the battle," the reporter stated. "Although-"
"HEY!" the voice of someone came over the TV's speakers. "What are you doing here?!"
Keith could only frown as he watched the head of Satellite City security come up to the reporter.
"No Atlantians are allowed here!" the security chief growled. "Now get that thing out of here!"
"Wait!" the reporter blurted. "I'm just here to get some facts!"
"Facts? Like what? How we're supposedly under the control of some daemon spawn?" the security chief rumbled sarcastically.
"No! Just about what happened here!" the man cried. He held up his hands in surrender.
The security chief narrowed his eyes as he studied the reporter before sighing and rubbing his face with his hands. "Okay... Look. If I give you an interview, will you leave then?"
The man nodded.
"Fine. Ask away," he muttered.
The reporter nodded and held out his mike. "Sorry for this, again. My name is Andrew Lemmington. But I'm very curious as to what exactly happened here. From what I've seen, there are no survivors directly visible. Have there been any?" he asked.
The security chief nodded. "First off, my name is Hoshikawa Naguya. And for the record, yes, there are. But none of Ghoul Squadron survived, thankfully. Those guys were bastards and needed to be killed." He scowled visibly. "Especially their commander. Do you even know what he did? He ate a woman's uterus, ovaries, and heart to supposedly cure his illness! On live TV, to boot!"
Andrew's face literally paled at that. "You're kidding!"
The security chief shook his head. "'Fraid not, kid. He did do that. And as such, he needed to be killed. No one that insane should be in the military, period."
The other man gulped before he continued. "So, what survivors were there?"
Hoshikawa glanced to the city itself, and Keith had to admit it cut a very imposing image on TV with the way the skyscrapers poked out from between the mountains around them. "The survivors we captured were more or less only those forces that Ghoul Squadron were able to muster to assist them in this siege. Thankfully, after they were beaten, most of them saw reason and came to their senses."
"I'm sorry, but what do you mean by 'came to their senses'?" Andrew asked.
"I mean just what I said, kid!" Hoshikawa snapped. "They came to their senses as soon as Ghoul Squadron was defeated. Many of them said it felt like a fog had been lifted from their thoughts and some even confessed to feeling a dark energy vanish from their very souls. Almost like they had been exorcised of some dark force possessing them."
The reporter was stunned. "Then... you think that this... sudden resurgence of primal beliefs and superstitions is the effect of some dark force?"
"I can't say for sure, but it feels like a dark will is trying to possess us and use us for its own gain," the security chief replied. "Most of us in the resistance agree that something is happening, but we're not sure as to what it is. It does feel like there is a dark force trying to take control, but it's hard to actually describe it in words. One has to have sensed and/or experienced it for themselves to truly understand what I mean."
Keith frowned as he heard that. 'So, it's like Eisenhower said...' he thought. 'Something is going on... but what?'
He would have to ponder that later, he figured. Right now, there was a lot more to worry about, such as Turbine's repairs.
. . .
"What exactly will you be doing with those survivors?" Andrew inquired.
"They'll be treated humanely, just as they should be, and eventually released back to their families once this war is over," Hoshikawa explained. "We're not barbarians like the Atlantians are. And you should know how they treat their own wounded. They don't risk it all to save them. They just put them down like animals."
"Man... That's just sick!" Theo muttered as he observed the news feed on the hangar bay's TV screen.
Off to his side, lying on his chest, Turbine grunted as his left wing was reattached. The only good news on that front was that the joint attaching it to his thruster pack had been cleanly severed, so it was a simple matter of replacing the joint halves and then reattaching the wing itself. It wasn't as hard as it seemed, but it still would take a day or two at most. His forearm, however, would have to be reattached once he got to space.
"Trust me, Theo," he muttered, "it wasn't pretty what they did."
"But who in their right mind would put down wounded soldiers like animals?!" Theo blurted as he faced the AI.
Turbine turned his helm away, a haunted look in his cyan optics. "That's something we may never truly know," he muttered softly. "But..." His gaze drifted to where Alicia's Blast had once stood. "If Alicia were here, she would no doubt say something along the lines of that the Atlantians feel that survival of the fittest extends to those wounded. If their soldiers were wounded, then they were weak, and had to be culled to keep the Master Race pure and strong. Or something like that..."
Jen placed a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, tears pricking at them. "You're right..." she whispered. "She would have said something like that."
The AI nodded somberly as he turned his gaze back to his family.
"That reminds me," Emily admitted as she approached. "What was your answer when you were asked about what you thought of the human race as a whole?"
Turbine was silent for a moment. "My answer?"
She nodded.
"Well... it was this." Turbine paused for a few seconds, then spoke. "Humanity is capable of both good and bad. Yesterday was one good example of that. So... honestly, while there is bad in the human race, it's the good that outweighs the bad. Even little things can counteract one big bad action. So... humanity, in my view... does not deserve to be exterminated. Because as stated, the good logically outweighs the bad. It's all in how someone acts, right?"
Emily smiled broadly at that. Jen couldn't keep back a sob at those words. She nodded as Theo gave a grin. Hank grinned from where he stood on the catwalk. "You're a lot smarter than a normal AI, after all," he remarked. "And you sure proved Bruno wrong." He jerked a thumb to the large photograph of the sunrise plastered to the right wall of Turbine's 'room', so to speak. "That is one hell of a piece of art right there."
The AI couldn't help but chuckle at his remark.
He knew it was true, too.
"Hey! Quiet!" someone else hissed. "There's more coming on!"
The hangar bay fell silent shortly after as the news broadcast continued.
"...saying that Ghost Squadrons are not invincible," Hoshikawa was explaining. "Today's defeat proved that to be the case. Nowhere in human history has there ever been any indication that units of that very nature were invincible. After all, even people like Heero Yuy are only human."
"So then, what you're saying is that every human is fallible," Andrew replied.
Hoshikawa nodded. "Yes. And it's high time that we all accept that fact. Both Natural and Coordinator are fallible. Half-Coordinators are fallible. And even an AI is fallible. We all are fallible deep down inside. We all make mistakes. But it's how we learn from them that determines who we are. And LOGOs does not learn from their mistakes. They only take, take, and take. They never give back. And taking everything from us has doomed them to Doomsday."
"By that, you mean the utter destruction of their ideology, correct?" Andrew asked.
The security chief nodded as he turned to face the city. "In every sense of the word, Andrew," he replied. "In every sense of the word."
The news feed then blinked out as the chief engineer shut it down. She peered out the windows of her office. "Okay, people! Back to work! We got a deadline to meet!"
. . .
DECEMBER 29th, 0073 CE
PARIS, FRANCE
EURASIAN FEDERATION
The city was still holding strong.
It was a big surprise to Henri Burkhard that they were actually keeping the Atlantians back from the city perimeter. With limited supplies, they were unable to break out, but that was of little consequence in the long run. They were holding on in the face of overwhelming odds!
And yet... there was a little voice telling him this was what the Atlantians wanted.
He wasn't sure if it was true or not, but something was telling him to heed the voice's words.
He narrowed his eyes as he watched a Strike Dagger cleave a Windam in half before the other Windams broke off from the attack and retreated. Off to his side stood Kyle Eisen, his own eyes hard as he glanced back to his hastily repaird Demolition Dagger. While not ideal, it was at least able to fight to a much better standard than it had been. And his own troops were now using Eurasian Strike Daggers in place of the Atlantian suits they had been issued at the start of the war. And to say the new Task Force 141 had been idle was an understatement.
They had been essential in driving the Atlantians back with severe losses to their units.
"Still can't believe the audacity of some men," he snorted, recalling the broadcasts that led to this point. "Why do some men even feel they need to act like gods when they are merely flesh and blood?"
"Honestly, monsieur," Henri replied, "that's something we cannot answer. Only they know, and I'm sure they won't tell."
"Speaking of, I'm not liking the fact that we've been unable to break out of this trap," Kyle admitted.
"Oui. I am in agreement," Henri remarked. He folded his arms as he leaned against the wall of the half-destroyed office building they were in. "By now we should have broken through their lines."
"What do you think they're planning?" another soldier asked from one room over.
Kyle's eyes darkened. "They've got us trapped like rats," he stated. "They don't want us to escape for some reason. I'm not sure as to what it is, but I feel like... there's a reason they wanted us trapped here. And there's no way out from what we can see."
"Maybe not from where you see, but there is a way out," someone else remarked from further back.
Both Kyle and Henri turned to face the woman as she adjusted the headlamp around her forehead. "Uh... what's with the headlamp?" Kyle asked.
"Sorry. I was busy checking things out through the catacombs," she admitted, running her hand through her hair.
The catacombs? Kyle arched an eyebrow. "Why the catacombs?" he wondered.
"Oh! Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself!" the woman said, slapping her forehead. "I'm such an idiot!"
She then straightened up and gave a crisp salute. "Captain Amable Perrault of the 1st Cataphile Reconnaissance Team at your service!"
"First Cataphile Reconnaissance Team?" Kyle questioned. "Never heard of it."
"It's a recent formation created by the brigadier general down south of Paris," the captain replied. "It's meant to use the underground catacombs of Paris to slip behind enemy lines and to gather intelligence from there." Then she grinned. "It also helps that we cataphiles mapped out the catacombs in their entirety during the Cosmic Era and even before then."
Cataphiles... Now Kyle recognized the term. It denoted a person who explored the entire network of underground quarries that made up the catacomb network of Paris, even to the point they knew where exits outside of the city were located. As such, those people were seen as assets as it meant they could sneak around and escape the city undetected. But it wasn't just them that were taking advantage of the vast underground web of tunnels and quarries.
The medical personnel had also taken the initiative and launched what could only be considered an evacuation of all personnel, equipment, and wounded down to the largest of the catacomb chambers to use as makeshift hospitals. Generators and fuel had been brought down well before the siege had begun, and makeshift vents had been set up to vent the fumes out into the air above. Some of the flooded chambers had been also pumped free of water, allowing them to be used for makeshift bunkers and barracks for the French regional troops. The operation they had called Operation: Armadillo for the fact that armadillos often curled up and possessed bony plates of armor to protect their vulnerable undersides.
But that was only one part of the tunnels that had been commandeered.
The rest were clear.
And for what it was worth, an idea was already starting to bloom in Henri's mind.
"Actually... Amable, I have to ask. How many tunnels are clear of people and debris?" he asked.
"Most of the tunnels are fairly free of debris and rubble," she replied. "They were reinforced after the Reconstruction War to be able to hold up better than before, but it doesn't always work. Still, it's better than it was, so there's much less chance of a collapse. As for the people, the majority are secreted in another section just to the south of our current position. So the ways out are clear."
"How many do you think we can evacuate if we start now?" Henri pressed.
Amable pursed her lips as she thought. "Depends on who you think we should evacuate. Getting everyone out is not going to be possible," she remarked.
"What about governmental officials?" the commander of the French Army demanded.
The cataphile's eyes went wide as she realized what he was asking. She looked down and bit her lower lip in thought for a moment. Then she looked up, her green eyes hard. "There is a tunnel entrance located not too far from the Palais Bourbon, so we could evacuate as many as we possibly can," she explained. "The only downside is that we have to start the evacuation as soon as possible to allow for most of them to survive."
"Then get to it!" Henri ordered her. "I do not want our government to fall unless it is on our terms, not theirs!"
He then turned to Kyle. "Also, my friend, I would advise you to get out as well. Leave your machines behind. Your role here is to ensure that France does not fall. After all, it is you who will keep this country's will alive."
Kyle was stunned. He was being ordered to leave his machine behind? He pursed his lips as he then shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving that machine behind," he said. "At least... not entirely. I'm going to be salvaging a few components from it before I leave."
Henri gave a nod. "Then get on it. The sooner we start this plan, the better."
Amable nodded before she turned and disappeared out the door. Kyle, for his part, made to hold out his hand, only to pause. "What about you?" he asked.
Henri just gave a grim smile. "If they want to keep someone trapped, then they will keep me trapped. I aim to show them that we will die on our terms. And what better way than to make our greatest landmark my final stand?"
The former Atlantian's eyes widened as he realized what Henri was getting at.
He intended to make a stand atop the Eiffel Tower. "You... You're joking!" Kyle rasped, stunned at his words.
"No. I am not, monsieur," Henri admitted. "I want them to see how foolish whatever they're planning is. And this will also be a reminder that we as Frenchmen go down on our terms."
Henri was dead serious on this, he realized in horror. He staggered back before collapsing to his butt. "But why?"
"To show those Nazis we will never bow to them," Henri said softly. "For the sake of the world... and for the sake of humanity's future." His eyes were hard as he grasped Kyle's shoulders and lifted him to his feet. "You have your job, Kyle! And I have mine! Make sure the government escapes! Guard them, and get them out! Keep them alive! That is my final order to you! And for the love of God, give those bastards hell!"
Kyle was silent for a moment before he looked up and shook his head. "It's stupid, really," he admitted. Despite his words, there was a small smile on his face. "Fine. I'll do it, but only if you give them hell in return."
"I plan on it," Henri said with a grim tone of finality in his voice. He merely held out a hand, and Kyle extended his own. Both men clasped hands and shook, a final sign of respect between the two. "I plan on it."
The two stood like that for a few moments more before Kyle removed his hand and turned, running back to his Demolition Dagger to salvage what components he could from the cockpit. As he left, Henri turned back to the city's besiegers and raised his middle finger.
It was useless, but it was a symbolic one to him. It was a symbol of their defiance, and he was going to ensure that the government got out alive.
No matter what.