Gundam Wing: The Phoenix Rising

by Titanic X

A tie-in novel to Gundam Wing: Destiny's Call. The American front in the war is unknown and unheard of. But as the world is embroiled in another war, the Resistance sends a mole to take command of a mighty battle group. This is the story of the Phoenix, and of how the Resistance began their fight to liberate America's citizens from their brainwashing. This is... Phoenix Rising!

38. PHASE XXXVII: Seaborne Fury Rising II

Hey, peeps~! Here's the next chapter of The Phoenix Rising. I hope you guys are ready for what's coming here. ;) And trust me, there's a lot more that's going on behind the scenes. ;3

- operation meteor: Heh. Well, the Big U is gonna prove to be a real asset, I hope. :3 As for the Puffers, I wanted to have the Atlantians get hit with gigantomania and have it really upended right in their faces! XD

- CT7567Rules: Simply put, I wanted to throw in an added faction to further show that things are different. The resistance, due to its large size, is a complete aversion to the whole Nazi America thing. In fact, in the second to last chapter of his first story, Copeland admits that not everyone is for the extermination of Coordinators. So I wanted to seize on that and showcase how little power the extremists truly have over everyone as a whole. After all, it would take more than a generation to entirely brainwash a country the size of America. :P

- noobie53: Well, I did take some inspiration from that time period, too. :P But the idea is basically the same, but in reverse for America taking back control from the AF. :)

---

(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 XXXVII: Seaborne Fury Rising II

SS United States

DECEMBER 22nd, CE 0073

Uingu Shima Island

The sleek ocean liner pierced through the waves with ease, her rakish bow cutting through them like a laser through metal.

Already, the onslaught was commencing.

The PMC was not doing so well against the devastating firepower of Missouri, when combined alongside the Dominion and her mobile suits.

And Captain Stimson had to clap a hand over her mouth at seeing the sight of those massive sixteen inchers firing a full-on broadside on the shore, striking the nearest artillery emplacements with their oil-drum-sized shells. Nothing short of the legendary Yamato-class battleships could stand up to those shells, but those two were long since sunk, becoming wreckage in the Pacific Ocean's depths, never to see the sunlight again.

And despite her age, the old battleship was proving she was not an old, handicapped little granny. She was far from it.

A shrieking sound reached her hearing and her gaze shifted to the rear of the ship, from which several lances of smoke and fire arced skyward, sheering across the sky and flying towards the shore, slamming into the more heavily hardened artillery positions, followed by a second broadside as those mighty guns fired once more. A shell smashed into one of the ammo supplies for the closest artillery position and it exploded, causing an artillery piece near it to go up as well from the fire as it licked at the closest shrubs.

The Missouri was giving as good as she was getting.

And that was not counting the Dominion's mobile suits getting into the fray. She could see the red demonic mobile suit known as the Epyon Revenant darting around in a blur of crimson light, its heat whip and beam saber flashing menacingly as it attacked the PMC known as Rogue Coyote. The onslaught was just devastating. And that was not counting the speedy blue and white machine used by the Hawk of Endymion himself. His machine was incredibly fast, even without a nuclear reactor. And it showed in how well the man was using it. Those massive verniers offered a great boost to speed and mobility, but at the cost in energy usage, she mused.

It helped that the resistance had gotten intel on the machines used by Terminal through the EF a few days ago.

Now that was being put to use.

She glanced back to the communications techs manning the third wave of consoles. "Get in contact with the Heavyarms Arsenal and the Sandrock Saladin!" she ordered. "Once they finish up, here, they are to assist Sicario's carriers in taking down two of the heavily defended islands!"

"Yes, ma'am!" one of the techies replied. She clasped her headset as she dialed in. "SS United States to Sandrock Saladin and Heavyarms Arsenal! Do you read?"

Already the techs were working to encrypt the channel that was being broadcasted on. Using an old-time cipher concept developed by the Nazis during the Second World War coupled with the idea of Navajo code talkers, the new Neo Enigma program scrambled the messages so that way it resembled static or gibberish to the Atlantian Reich. It was not perfect, because in some cases the communications could be overheard and intercepted. But it was enough to make it difficult for the enemy to even understand their plans. And the resistance was always refining their communications capabilities.

The receiving machines would get the transmissions, and could even respond on the same channel, making it a closed two-way street, so to speak. And this was perfect for them.

The images of the two pilots in question appeared on the main monitor for the ship's communications and ECM center.

"This is Quatre Raberba Winner in Sandrock Saladin," the pilot replied.

"Trowa Barton in Heavyarms Arsenal reporting in," the other man said.

"Good. The communications are working then," Stimson said as she sat down in the commander's chair.

"It would seem so," Trowa remarked.

"But that's not the reason why you called, is it?" Quatre asked, his eyes narrowed a bit.

Despite his gentle appearance, Stimson could tell he was a shrewd man. "Straight to the point. You'd be right."

"So what's the situation then?" Trowa questioned.

"Sicario," was all Stimson said to begin with. She knew she had the attention of both men with the way they looked at one another.

"So? Can't your mercs handle themselves if what we read is to be believed?" Quatre asked.

"Not that. They're good, but there are some mercs who are going to be gunning for them." Stimson narrowed her eyes. "On Justui Island, there's a group of mercs called the Blood Angels Mercenaries. They're one of the top in this side of the ocean, so to speak. And they've got no qualms about attacking civilians. Plus, with their heavy artillery... there is a good chance they could hit one or two of the settlements on the island. Our goal is to try and keep them contained to the plains there. Quatre, your machine is good for close quarters, plus it's fast. Trowa, you're good for artillery support. So, we're going to be needing you two to assist Sicario in taking down the Blood Angels Mercenaries before they can attack any civilians. Your objectives are to keep them trapped in the plains, either by sheer firepower or quick strikes."

"Sounds like we're insurance then to make sure that those guys don't deviate from the battle plan," Trowa commented.

"That's correct," Stimson said.

"Captain, transmission from the Dominion incoming!" another techie exclaimed.

"Patch it through!" Stimson ordered.

The screen flickered and up came the captain of the black warship. "I wasn't sure if you'd get my transmission signal," Captain Natarle Badgiruel remarked.

"We received it loud and clear," Stimson said. "I assume you're not going to be too happy about me taking two of your top pilots away."

"On the contrary, I was aware through the communications team aboard your ship," the captain said with a wry grin. Stimson turned to look at one of the crew who looked a bit sheepish.

"Well, we are coordinating, aren't we?" he reminded her.

Stimson sighed, recalling her orders. Yes, she had been ordered to coordinate with the other ships. So, she had to do so.

"You're right," she said softly. "I almost forgot about that."

"That is another matter to discuss at a later date," Captain Badgiruel said. "Now, what exactly do you need two of my pilots for?"

"To support Sicario's ship, the Poseidon, in attacking Jutsui Island and to keep the Blood Angels Mercenaries from getting close to the cities if the fighting heads in that direction," Stimson explained.

"I see." The Dominion's captain pursed her lips as she folded her arms, leaning back slightly in her seat. "So you need them to act as a distraction, am I correct?"

"That would be the reason, yes," Stimson replied. "We're hoping that Trowa and Quatre can keep the Blood Angels Mercenaries confined to the plains of the island. If they try to sneak towards the cities, then the two will react to divert their attention towards themselves and lure the mercs back towards the plains where Sicario will be engaging them."

"Sort of like a running battle then," Natarle remarked. "Not what I would prefer, but... if it works for your purposes, then I don't see why not."

"Thank you, ma'am," Captain Stimson said with a grateful salute.

"Don't thank me yet. If your plan works, then I'll be thanking you," the other woman replied with a small smirk.

The captain of the Big U didn't even respond as she turned back to face Trowa and Quatre. "You both get that?"

"We did," Trowa replied with a nod. "We can be there within fifteen minutes."

"Good. Sicario's gonna be needing your help with that." Stimson gave a salute and the two men returned it before their images flicked off. The captain turned to Natarle. "We'll inform you how it went."

"Excellent. I'm expecting good results, given Sicario's reputation," the Dominion's captain responded.

"They will get those results, and then some." Stimson gave a grin at that.

Natarle nodded in response. "I sure hope so."

For her part, Stimson gave a nod and the COMM went dark. She brought up the map once more, this time showing just what ships were attacking where, and she zeroed in on the Camelot, which was the flagship in this part of Sicario's forces. They were targeting Outsui Island while the Hurricane was targeting Jutsui Island and Sadeyori Island was locked onto by the Poseidon. The Big U was shown circling around Uingu Shima Island, and Missouri was plastered right beside the black shape of the Dominion.

'Sakchai knows what he's doing. The Mighty Mo, for all her firepower and speed, is still vulnerable to mobile suit attacks, so he's plastered her right alongside the Dominion for added protection,' she noted with a smirk. 'Rogue Coyote isn't going to get to her that easily.'

With that settled, she turned to face the communications technicians once more.

"Patch me through to all ships on our side!" she ordered. "It's time to lay down the battle plan!"

. . .

Hurricane

The ship known only as the Hurricane of the Pacific was not to be underestimated, especially when it came to prevention of severe collateral damage to cities.

The reason why? Their high-speed fighting style.

The Hurricane was a new ship in of its own design, based on the first Chinese aircraft carrier built in their own backyard during the twenty-first century of the AD era. However, unlike the original, this one was driven by a nuclear reactor, much like the Camelot, giving her unlimited range. She was built a lot like her sister ship, but she was also different in that she was more modern. She had the same flight deck, and island tower with the bridge and other necessary facilities to handle the operation of aircraft and mobile suits alike. Her compliment of aircraft was a solid 44, with three quarters being mobile suits. She was also capable of thirty-plus knots, making her much faster than her ancestor.

The squadron aboard her, Typhoon Squadron, was more than at home on this ship. Having been built in the Republic of East Asia for another mercenary company, the Hurricane was purchased by Sicario after the prior owners went under after failing a major operation and couldn't get their payment. The ship had carried a reputation for being unlucky, but after Sicario's purchase of her and the stationing of a more competent squadron aboard her, the curse of bad luck was broken, and she became one of the top ships for Pacific operations, alongside her sister ships, Poseidon and Camelot. Typhoon Squadron was known around the world for their high-speed fighting style, preferring to go for precision strikes over most other brute force methods. This made them the top when it came to limiting collateral and keeping enemies away from cities and suburban areas.

The commander of the squadron was also a former air racer, so she knew a thing or two about how high speed impacts could deal a lot of damage.

Commander Kalea Kamalani was aptly named, as her surname meant "sky" in English.

Born in the former state of Hawaii, she had been interested in air racing as a little girl. Her parents had both been pilots before she was born, so it made sense she'd want to follow in their footsteps, but going down her own path as well. Her father had not been thrilled about her choosing to go into air racing, but he and her mother had nonetheless supported her dream, even going as far as to moving to the mainland Atlantic Federation to get her closer to more local flight schools. When she was eighteen, she got her pilot's license and started learning to fly professionally as a racer. It took several years at the amateur circuit before she was spotted by a big name sponsor.

She went on to perform exceptionally at a number of smaller rallies before moving into the big leagues and winning three times before the Bloody Valentine War broke out. Kalea was no big fan of the PLANTs, that was one thing she made clear. But what she meant was that she was not a big fan of the design, not the people within them. The people within were decent folks, but when the whole war went down to genocidal intent, she signed up into the space force as a mobile suit pilot. She barely managed to survive the genocidal fight at GENESIS, and as a result, she couldn't forget the sheer horror. She suffered for weeks with nightmares before deciding to retire from the air racing circuit and going merc after her discharge from the military a few months after the war ended.

She became something of a freelancer before being spotted by Sicario's commander and being offered a contract that was far more lucrative than just going solo.

As a result, she was now in command of an entire air wing aboard an aircraft carrier, and she was more than willing to bring the fight to the Nazis who had led the world almost to extinction.

Kalea was a Natural who was in her fifties, but she was far from being an old lady. She was fit for her age, with very firm muscles and excellent joint mobility for her age. That alone ensured she had top end reflexes, enough to keep flying even at fifty-seven years of age. Constant yoga and gymnastics in the hangar ensured that she never got arthritic at this age, and her eyesight was exceptionally keen for a woman in her late fifties. She only wore glasses when reading reports up close; her far distance sight was truly something most men would be envious of. She had thick black hair that was tied back in a bun, but at the base of her neck, not at the back of her head. Her eyes were a startling bronze color, a rare trait that came from her father who was a Coordinator, and her tan skin was a nice accent to her blue and red pilot suit.

Beside her stood the captain of the Hurricane, a man who had once sailed the seas aboard a small fishing vessel on a dare in his late teens.

Captain Sanjay Joshi was a close friend of hers, having met when she was out of high school. He was in his early sixties, with a small paunch, but his muscles were still firm across his chest and arms otherwise. He had thinning blonde hair and gray eyes, and he wore a simple blue jacket with white pants and a captain's hat atop his head. But what really stood out was the thick mane of blonde covering his mouth and chin. It went all the way down to his stomach and all out to the sides, making him seem like a lean Santa Claus. His demeanor was also like the big red guy himself, with a full belly laugh that never ceased to make the crew laugh along with him. He was jovial, but when on missions, he was dead serious.

A former astronomer, Sanjay was born in Nepal before his parents moved to the Atlantic Federation, only to move once more when Blue Cosmos took power, only this time to the PLANTs to protect his new wife and two children, both of whom had been made Coordinators to ensure they had a better chance at life than he had had. When the First Bloody Valentine War came to its ultimate conclusion, he and his wife had been distraught when they learned their children had died in that bloodbath at GENESIS, leading to him retiring from his job at teaching astronomy within the PLANT capital and moving back to Earth, drifting from job to job until he met Sicario's founder and was offered a new position.

While skeptical at first, after he was told what was happening, he accepted his new job as captain of the Hurricane, and put his talents in astronomy to good use, making him a natural asset when it came to nighttime navigation in the event of power failure aboard the ship.

"We're coming to the islands, Kalea," he said.

"I can see that," Kalea replied, her eyes narrowed as she studied the distant horizon. "Jutsui Island. The Blood Angels Mercenaries are there."

Sanjay scowled at the mention of the mercs in question. "Personally I don't understand why some of us mercs feel that civilians are not worth protecting," he mused. "The very idea of them just attacking innocents is enough to give me a bad taste in my mouth."

"Same here, sir," Kalea responded. She slowly raised her binoculars to look at the island. "We've got a vague idea as to where they're hiding, but until we get airborne, we can't be sure as to where they are."

"All the more reason you should get airborne as soon as possible," Sanjay told her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll handle things from here."

The woman turned to face him and she nodded as she handed him her binoculars. "Is the squadron ready?"

He gave a small smirk. "They're just waiting for their commander to join them," he said.

Kalea grinned. "Good."

With that said, she turned and ran off, grabbing her helmet from the deck beside her. She slid it on as she ran towards her Murasame, clicking it into place before she slid the visor down to protect her face.

As she ran, her mind drifted back to the very first day she had heard of this op, and she was more than willing to admit that this one was riskier than all the others Sicario had undertaken thus far. But then again, given the circumstances, it made sense, seeing as how even with their capabilities and resources, they were only still a merc company and not a full-on military force.

She shook her head and forced her musings aside for the moment. Right now, they had some mercs to take down.

. . .

Jutsui Island

Honkai City Outskirts

To say it was a boring day was an understatement.

Pilot Drake Marshall fiddled with the keychain of his company's logo around his neck before blowing a lock of blood-red hair out of his face.

He was bored out of his mind here.

With only lookout duty to keep himself occupied, he wished he had brought a book with to read as he had set the radar to alert him if there were any civilian intruders or adversaries from ZAFT. However, the boss was not too keen on his pilots letting their guard down, saying that to endure boredom was the ultimate test of human will. He was not wrong, but at the same time, he needed his breaks.

Drake scoffed as he tossed his keychain back down his flight suit and stretched his body within the cramped confines of his Windam's cockpit. The door was open, which was a huge relief as it was close to a hundred within the enclosed space. The fresh air felt good on his exposed face. He wished he could take off his helmet, but it was forbidden to remove them even in the cockpit of his machine if an attack was to happen.

He sighed heavily as he adjusted his positioning and pulled his legs in from the outside. He dearly needed to take off his restraints and move about outside.

Perhaps he could do so without alerting his superior?

He felt a slight aching in his back and decided to take the risk anyway. After all, it wasn't like he'd be leaving the range of his machine, anyway, right? He reached up and undid his restraints almost eagerly.

Drake slid out of his seat and grabbed the cable before he descended down to the ground below. As soon as his feet touched the grass, he immediately let go and started to flex his sore muscles. He reached up and pulled off his helmet, letting his hair flow freely as he sighed in relief. "Man! Sometimes being a merc is harder than a mere soldier!" he muttered as he proceeded to do some jogging around his Windam's station. At times like this, he wished he had not been let go from the Atlantic Federation's armed forces. At least then he had more freedom to move around and enjoy getting out and about.

He hadn't even been jogging that long when his alert rang and he stopped, just about faceplanting in the dirt before he got his act together and scrambled back up the cable and into the cockpit. He made sure to put his helmet on and lower the visor before he buckled back up and closed the cockpit hatch just as the face of his commander appeared.

"Angel-4, this is Angel-1. We've got incoming fighter craft," the other man said.

"I saw that on the radar, sir," Drake remarked as he glanced at the screen. Sure enough, he could see a number of red dots indicating enemy forces coming in from the sea.

"I want you to intercept them with Angel-3. Angel-2 will be moving out with me to see where they came from," Angel-1 ordered.

Drake nodded. "Yes, sir!"

The image went dark, leaving Angel-4 to prepare to intercept the incoming bogies.

. . .

Quatre narrowed his eyes as he studied the incoming island.

He could easily see why the mercenaries were intent on limiting the damage to the plains.

With four cities and six smaller towns scattered across the island, the Blood Angels Mercenaries could easily cause collateral damage. Especially as he could pick out several clusters of red-winged Windams lurking close by.

'Clearly they must be trying to prevent anyone from getting too close or else they'll devastate those communities,' he thought with a tinge of anger.

He gripped his controls as he adjusted his flight path, coming in just beyond their radar range and landing not too far off, relying on his machine's desert cloak to somewhat blend in with the ground. He lowered his Gundam until it was kneeling on the grassy plains, and he started to scan around the island using his radar.

Already he could see the IFFs of the incoming Murasames of Sicario's Typhoon Squadron. He had to admit they were named well.

With the sleek gray and black paint job, they were definitely hard to spot at night, and with the coming of the dawn, their attack was going to be right on and he could tell that they were going to aim hard for the Blood Angels. The first of the units incoming had on its right wing a single hurricane cloud, and in the center was a targeting reticle, a mark of their precision strikes and the damage they could cause.

The others didn't have that exact image, but they did have hurricane images painted on their machines, mostly on the chests or arms and legs.

He had to refrain from smirking as he watched the Murasames transform into their flight forms as they sped on ahead, leaving him to hold the rear as Trowa's machine came down hard and slammed into the ground beside him. He glanced to the Heavyarms Arsenal and gave a nod using his machine's head.

This was it. The first battle to reclaim Orb from the Atlantian Reich and the first to restore the world's sanity at last.

The two Gundam pilots settled back and prepared for the coming offensive.

From their perspective, they could see the Murasames flying towards the large cluster of Windams that were stationed not too far off, and the first of them took note of the incoming machines. Then...

Within the cockpit of the lead Murasame, Kalea gripped the controls and gave a jerk to the right as the Windams opened fire on Sicario's forces. She could already see that the group was beginning to aim at her squad mates. She gritted her teeth and gave the throttle more juice. She could feel herself pressed back into her seat by the acceleration, but she could care less about that.

The first Windam was in the air a few seconds later, its pilot arming the beam rifle held in its hand. The Windam fired a moment later, forcing her to barrel roll to the right and unleashing a salvo of bullets from the machine's wing-mounted M2M5D 12.5mm automatic CIWS for the Windam's head. The pilot moved their shield in front to take the projectiles, but that was just what Kalea was counting on. Using that as a distraction, she transformed her machine into mobile suit mode before she drew the Type 70J Kai beam saber from the left side skirt armor. The beam blade ignited and Kalea gave a grunt as she charged at the Windam.

The pilot lowered their shield and drew their own beam saber, bringing it up just barely in time to block her slash. The two mobile suit pilots pressed their machines to the limit, their hydraulics and systems groaning as they tried to push the other back through brute strength alone. But while the Jet Windam may have had the thrust, it was the Murasame that possessed the edge here with its flight-capable frame. Kalea twisted her machine a bit to the left, giving herself a bit more leverage and she shifted her mobile suit's servo to the same direction, turning the hand itself and shoving the other violet blade away from her machine. That gave her a chance to lash out in a kick, nailing the Windam in the chest and pushing it away from her machine.

Kalea boosted back and grabbed the Type 72 Kai "Ikazuchi" beam rifle from the right side skirt armor and pulled it free. She aimed it at the Windam's left arm as it brought the shield back up, but instead of going for the shield, she shifted her aim just a bit before firing. The shot streaked out and hit the right side of the Windam, scorching the armor on the side of the machine. The pilot proceeded to move back before aiming their own beam rifle and firing, sending a shot right for her. Kalea didn't even hesitate as she shifted her machine to the side, snapping both wings and the tail stabilizer open.

She took a quick glance around the battlefield, spotting two more of her teammates gunning for three Jet Windams with their blood-red wings and one trio of Windams moving to sneak up on the rest of her squad. The last, and largest, group of Windams was making preparations for attacking them. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the city just beyond them, and she grimaced as she recalled the last time the Blood Angels had attacked a group of ZAFT mobile suit pilots. The collateral damage had been immense, and it really threw ZAFT's policies into question when they did offer help, but not as much as people had hoped. In fact, that was when the Equatorial Union had stepped up and sent more aid than ZAFT did.

Their efforts earned them a lot of recognition, and as such, much of the former African Community were now in their sphere of influence, along with some of the Middle East, which was still in much turmoil even after all these years. This also threw the Atlantian Reich's plans out of whack, as it meant that they could not gain leverage in those countries. And from what she understood, the resistance was trying to earn back some sway there. But it was a lot easier said than done, given how much slaughter the Reich had committed during its conquest of the larger continent. The human casualties were immense, and the rest of the world had been horrified at some of the atrocities that had been committed there in the name of Natural supremacy.

The only thing that the rest of the world could take solace in at this point was the fact that the resistance was actually making efforts to try and help clean up the damage as well as trying to protect the survivors and condemning the very actions of their overlords. While some in the former African Community did recognize it as being sincere and honest, especially given recent events, the rest of the continent was firmly against the former American superpower, which was not too surprising. As it stood, only Egypt was firmly in the resistance's camp, even going as far as to offer the use of the Suez Canal for their 'navy', such as it was. The rest were either wary or firmly against them.

Kalea's musings were interrupted when she heard the shriek of missiles from one of the Windams and her gaze snapped to the right, just in time to see a few projectiles flying towards five of her teammates as they flew close to Honkai City. Her eyes went wide as her hands clenched on the throttles of her Murasame, her arms shoving them forward all the way to their stops.

But she needn't have worried.

Heavyarms Arsenal was already in their path.

. . .

"You see them incoming?" Quatre asked.

Trowa merely nodded. "Yes. I'll handle this one. You go for the Windams if they come closer."

"Got it," the Desert Prince replied. He closed down the COMM as Trowa gripped the controls of his machine and braced it for the coming salvo.

His eyes hardened as he scanned the horizon and the incoming missiles. He moved as smoothly as ever, his fingers moving with practiced motions to trigger his mobile suit's arsenal. He saw the target screen come up and the reticle danced across it before splitting into multiple, allowing for multiple target acquisitions. He scanned over each one before he released the firing controls, letting fly with a vast array of beam weaponry and some solid projectiles as well for the smaller warheads. The combined salvo struck all missiles and they exploded, leaving fireballs that blinded the enemy, but not Trowa or Quatre, as they had adjusted their optical sensors to deal with the blinding light.

That was all Quatre needed to move in. He flared the thrusters on his machine's back and he was moving in like a snake to pounce upon its prey. The Sandrock Saladin's tan cloak whipped about its frame as the twin heat shotels were brought out, the silver blades flashing menacingly in the morning light. He swept in, moving fast and precisely, using his thrusters to stay airborne as he cut and cleaved with incredible precision. Some Windams tried to block, but the Winner heir was too fast, acting like a surgeon as he either cleaved off arms or cut into the cockpits with brutal efficiency. Trowa had to admit he was right to let this one belong to Quatre. His role was to act as fire support and to prevent any collateral damage.

And it was just as well, as a number of Windams came charging in, trying to get close to his position.

He was about to lay out another attack, only for his radar to blare and he snapped his gaze to the screen to see the IFF signatures of Sicario's Typhoon Squadron showing up. Their numbers were converging from all sides, acting like a barricade as they formed up and linked together - figuratively speaking, of course. The Gundam pilot shot a glance up to his main monitors and he was surprised to see the thirty-three Murasames hovering in a line, weapons drawn and beam rifles aimed. They were sort of curved around, and Trowa could see the reasoning behind the decision to form a sort of semi-circle inward. It would allow for a convergence of beams, which would prove to be very lethal in this case.

The Windams, however, were not about to let that happen.

They opened fire with their remaining missiles, and that was Trowa's cue.

He let loose with his second salvo, arcing the missiles and beams expertly over the Murasame line, striking the projectiles and causing them to explode. The Murasame pilots were forced to block the light with their shields so as to avoid being blinded by the brightness, and that was when the Windams pounced.

"Shit!" Trowa swore.

Only for some of the Murasames to attack with their missiles.

The projectiles struck some of the Windams and forced them to back off, allowing the rest of the squadron to regain their senses and then they went on the offense, and a brutal battle broke out in midair.

Trowa could only wonder how the others were faring.

. . .

Outsui Island

At around the same time, Shemei Bristow and Mu la Flaga had been assigned by Captain Badgiruel to help the Poseidon in the attack on Outsui Island.

For what it was worth, the two fast mobile suits were perfect to deal with the mercenaries that were hiding in the forests.

Or rather, they would be when the mercs were forced out of hiding.

The Poseidon's Trident Squadron were gearing up for launch, and from the looks of things, Mu noted, they were somewhat religious, if the crosses painted on their machines were any indication. He wondered why that was, although he decided it would be better to ask after the fight.

Shemei's voice reached his hearing over the COMM and he turned his attention to the Valkyrie.

"We're coming up on the island now," she said.

"Yeah. Sounds to me like we're going to be in for a hard fight if what Sicario said about these guys is true," the Hawk of Endymion muttered seriously. "Let's just hope that Sicario does their bit to get them out here."

The fierce woman nodded. "I don't doubt they will," she remarked. "They've fought them before, so they know what to do to lure them out."

Mu just pursed his lips before he turned his gaze towards the forested island. The only good thing was the lack of human habitation, which meant no civilian casualties. That was something that had never set right with him, even after the battles in Eurasia. The whole concept of just conquest and utter destruction was something that reminded him all too much of Nazi Germany's policies, and it disgusted him how low his country's overlords had fallen. Hell, it was low. It was so low it was downright barbaric. It was almost like a spell of some sort had been cast over a number of the populace, and now that he thought about it, maybe it explained the crosses on some of Trident Squadron's machines.

'Actually, it does make sense now that I think about it. After all, the darkness they spread affected the Moscow attack force to the point their dark desires overwhelmed all common sense. So perhaps they turned to Lord to dispel such urges through the imagery of the cross,' he thought. 'Or something along those lines, I don't know. After this fight I'll be sure to ask about that.'

He watched as the Murasames of Trident Squadron, denoted by the trident painted on their machines' arms and chests, launched from the Poseidon and flew over to the island, touching down and drawing either beam sabers or beam rifles and holding their shields at the ready. He held his machine above the island, as did Shemei, awaiting their turn to strike.

He could see that one of the Murasames, the lead one, it seemed, was approaching a copse of trees that looked over the island's eastern coastline. The machine reached one hand in, moving the beam rifle it held around to try and see if there was anyone within.

They got their answer later when a Windam pounced out from behind it, and the machine's pilot spun around, bringing up the shield and blocking a beam saber slash that almost cleaved through its defensive equipment. The Murasame's optics flashed before the pilot drew back their machine's head and actually headbutted the Windam, disorienting the pilot long enough to allow them to fall back from the trees and landing further away. The shield was discarded and Mu could now see on his radar a number of Windams emerging from the trees, rifles raised and ready to fire at the lone Murasame.

That was their cue.

He turned his machine's helm to face Shemei's, and both nodded their mobile suits' heads as one before diving into the fray. Mu drew his beam saber as Shemei ignited Epyon Revenant's Beam Sword. The red mobile suit became just a crimson blur as the "Wings of Light" ignited, granting her machine incredible speed beyond even that of the Tallgeese Kai's. The blue and white mobile suit, though, was no slouch in that department. Mu didn't even hesitate to gun the thrusters, pushed back into his seat by the acceleration, as he closed in on five of the Windams.

He gave his machine a jerk to the right as he brought up his beam saber and cleaved through a Windam's torso, letting the two halves fall to the ground and explode.

Mu didn't even hesitate as he glanced down to see Shemei's green Beam Sword cut down a Windam before she lashed out with the Heat Whip, cutting another Windam in half before blasting to the left as some artillery shells impacted the ground below where she had been mere minutes ago. The flash of blood red light became a comet as she flashed past the guns, using the Beam Sword or Heat Whip to cut the barrels and render them useless. The artillery gunners turned and ran as she drove her sword into the ground and cut a trench that made the very soil bubble like oil.

'A good tactic to get them away from their artillery,' he mused as he opened fire with the Tallgeese's rifle, sending a number of beam shots right at the Windams he was facing as they moved to encircle him. The attack forced them back and then he gunned it, driving two of them back with a number of slashes from his beam saber and deflecting beam shots with his Planet Defensors. His eyes narrowed as he glanced to the right, moving his machine in the same direction to avoid a slew of missiles from Sicario's Murasames as they dashed in, wings and tail stabilizers spread open to allow for aerial combat.

Meanwhile Shemei was proving to be a brutal enemy, cleaving and cutting through any artillery she picked up on her radar. A few shots had hit her machine, but the Epyon Revenant's Gundanium frame was too tough to breach with conventional firepower. She took advantage of that and dove down towards a slew of artillery guns that had been sighted to fire on any incoming Terminal mobile suits. She drew back her Beam Sword and put more power into the blade from the reactor of her machine. She let out a battle cry as she thrust the sword forward, the red demonic mobile suit becoming like a literal comet as she swung the huge beam blade around, cutting through the barrels of the artillery pieces and causing some to explode from the sheer heat of the beam. Her silvery eyes flashed as she sensed the Zero System within the machine pulsing eagerly for battle.

'I getcha, big guy,' she thought, almost as though she could feel the machine's bloodlust and excitement. 'I know exactly how you feel. Close up... we're not just a threat. We are their worst nightmare!'

The Epyon seemed to respond to her agreement and then she was on the move, both machine and pilot as close to synchronized as possible. She could feel Epyon's excitement and anger towards putting innocents in danger, and she felt the exact same way. Here, there was nothing to hold her or Epyon back, and the two were in their element. All that mattered was keeping the enemy at bay long enough for others to do their job.

And both were going to succeed, no matter what it took.

. . .

Sadeyori Island

Off the coast of the final island, the Camelot was geared for battle.

The large carrier was already prepped, and for what it was worth, the electronic warfare division of Master Goose Militia was to be beaten as soon as possible to prevent them from being recalled to defend Yalafath.

For Alekos, this was just the beginning of the drive to restore sanity to the world.

He sat in his commander's chair, his eyes fixed on the island before them. He could see that half the island was mild forest before shifting to jungle at the middle, and on the forested side were at least three resort communities and one major port town for importing luxury goods such as fine wines and top electronics. The northern segment was just a small section of plains, where local livestock grazed.

The jungle on the other hand, was bare of any human settlements, save for small clusters of cabins in the trees that guests could stay at.

He shifted his gaze towards the mobile suits of Cariburn Squadron as they assembled on the deck. Half the deck was loaded with Su-63Ks and the other half was filled with Murasames. The fighters would be the first to launch, backed up by the mobile suits. Bombs were equipped to the fighter craft for bombing the jungle while the mobile suits were to be prepared for Master Goose Militia's launch.

He glanced to the leading Murasame as the pilot turned and gave the thumbs up before sliding the cockpit canopy shut. After that, the mobile suit moved to the side, allowing the leader of the fighter contingent to take off, followed by the others in the unit. The aircraft were soon airborne, and then the mobile suits assembled for takeoff. The first of the Murasames was airborne not even five minutes later, followed by two more, and so on.

Alekos watched with trepidation as the two squadrons approached the island. He just didn't know where Master Goose Militia was supposed to be, but all evidence from prior experiences pointed to them being in the jungle. That was why he had ordered the Su-63Ks to be armed with bombs. The aircraft peeled to the right, and then he spotted the jungle below them from a forward facing camera he had hooked up to using the carrier's wireless connections. He could already see through the trees somewhat, and there was nothing so far.

But persistence and his gut were telling him to look closer. He narrowed his eyes as he leaned in, and it was then he saw it.

Faint, and very well hidden by camouflage, but it was there.

A Windam.

And this one was armed with an EMP generator.

He was quick to get Flight Control on the line. "Control, tell them that there are Windams in the jungle armed with EMP generators!" he barked.

The flight controller immediately responded. "All units, this is Control! We have sightings of Windams in the jungle armed with EMP generators!" she relayed. "Master Goose has been confirmed in this area!"

. . .

"I repeat! Master Goose has been confirmed in this area!"

That was all Cariburn Squadron Commander Mansoor Tawfiq needed to hear.

The Arabic soldier grinned as he toggled the COMM in his Murasame.

"Ya hear that?" he asked. "We got the Goosies in sight!"

Cheers broke out over the airwaves as the rest of Cariburn Squadron heard the news.

"All right! Fighters, you're up first! Drop those bombs on those bastards and flush them out!" he ordered. "Mobile suits, wait until they get airborne and prepare to release their pulses. That's when we'll go in and get 'em. Our machines have been hardened against such things, but they don't know it yet. So, let's give 'em a big surprise!"

"OORAH!" came the battle cry.

The Su-63Ks were the first to launch the attack. The eleven aircraft broke off from their F-7D companions, which were not armed with bombs but missiles, and began their runs. The pilots dropped all their bombs one after another, falling from the hardpoints directly into the thick jungle. Explosions soon rocked the air, throwing bursts of dirt and trees into the morning dawn, and along with those explosions, the sounds of thrusters could barely be heard. Thrusters from the Windams as they soared out of the jungle, their optics visors glowing a sinister green color.

The Su-63Ks peeled off, allowing the F-7Ds to unleash their missiles, firing all of them at once.

The sheer numbers would normally be enough to overwhelm a squad of only five Windams. But these were Windams of Master Goose Militia, which meant that they were customized to allow for their fighting style as well as their ability to disable enemy fighter craft and mobile suits, as well as anything else electronically controlled. The five machines split off as the missiles proceeded to follow them, using infrared to lock onto the blue fire of their thrusters. A few went off course as they locked onto several heat signatures buried deep within the jungle, mostly generators for the cabins in the trees, but the rest stayed on the Windams of Master Goose.

However, one of the machines spun around, and Mansoor felt the blood drain from his face as he saw the EMP generator powering up. A burst of electrical energy surged out from it, and he felt his machine rattled by it. All around him the cockpit lights and screens and readouts flickered and sputtered, but they didn't go down. He took a quick glance to the right and left to see if his wingmen and the fighter jocks were still flying.

Much to his relief, the fighters were still flying and fighting, as were his Murasame pilots. He let out a sigh of relief at that.

The COMMs sputtered a few times before a garbled voice came over the speakers.

"So... hard...machines...ainst...MP bursts," the voice said. "Ver...ever. But...not good...ough."

"Says the ones who serve a genocidal regime from close to two centuries ago!" Mansoor hissed. His eyes narrowed as he gripped his control sticks. "You know very well which regime I mean, too!"

"...do know. It was... Third Reich," the voice responded. "That was... mankind was at...best. Survival...the fittest. Law...jungle. Too bad... Allies destroyed...proper world order."

"That was not the proper world order!" the Arab growled.

A shrill chime came from his visual monitors and off to the right a small image of one of the men fighting them came up. It was the leader, Heinrich Rommel. Mansoor was no fan of the guy, and in fact, he downright despised the man for the fact he had raped his nine year old daughter during the First Bloody Valentine War, forcing her to give birth to a baby boy that he had immediately put up for adoption soon after. It had been during the conquest of Africa where he had been on station as a part of the African Community's military at the time. Shortly after the war ended, he had left and gone merc, joining Sicario after a quick vacation in Spain.

Mansoor was a pureblooded Arabic man, with thick brown hair and dark tan skin. But it was his eyes that set him apart from the rest of his people. He had the most brilliant cyan eyes ever, a mark of his European ancestry from his mother's side. He had a thick mustache and beard combo that he kept neatly trimmed, shaving it only once every two months to allow it to grow back cleaner after several missions. He was also powerfully built, having been an infantry officer before shifting to aerial combat after he lost half his unit to ZAFT's units during the first weeks of the war.

While he was a calm, quiet kind of guy, when he ever encountered Master Goose Militia, he became downright savage, preferring to let his actions speak louder than any words he could muster. He was not one to mess around when it came to them.

And it showed as he transformed his machine into its mobile suit form before drawing the beam saber and charging right for Heinrich.

A loud battle cry escaped his throat as he swung with a viciousness that left many surprised by how swift and brutal it was. Heinrich though was calm as he brought up his own beam saber to block the swing. His eyes merely narrowed as his image flickered a number of times. "...too much anger... befitting a savage such...yourself."

"No. I'm not a savage," Mansoor muttered darkly. "I'm just someone who's seeking justice against a barbarian such as yourself!"

As he said those last words, his eyes widened as a cyan seed-like jewel fell through a void and shattered against a water-like surface, a red ring around the flash of light. His eyes dilated and his pupils shrunk, signifying he had entered SEED Mode. He was no real master of it, but he was good enough to hold his own in this state against the mercenary squadron commander. He gave a shove of the throttles forward while at the same time pushing his machine's arm to the left and angling the beam saber away from Heinrich's Windam's chest and then he punched the other arm forward, the clenched servo slamming full force into the gut of his opponent's machine.

The Windam seemed to jerk its head as if gagging, and that allowed Mansoor to pull back a bit before whipping his mobile suit's leg out in a devastating roundhouse kick that smashed into the side of the Windam. The Master Goose Militia mercenary tumbled down through the air before flaring his Jet Striker and glaring at Mansoor as he hovered, his machine's wings and tail stabilizer deployed for aeral combat.

"You... will pay for what you did to my daughter!" he hissed.

"Oh... what this is about then, hm?" Heinrich chortled. "I will admit...fun with her. Too bad it didn't last."

"And it won't happen again!" the Arab snarled lowly.

"Hah! I'd like to see you try and stop me!" Heinrich cackled as he drew back his machine's beam saber and rushed at Mansoor.

The mercenary gripped his controls and pulled them back, bringing up his Murasame's beam saber to block the incoming thrust. He parried before he ducked his mobile suit's helm and fired the CIWS in the head at the fragile optical sensors of the Windam. The bullets peppered the glass covering, shattering it and damaging the optics, but the enemy mobile suit clearly still could see if the way he was aiming his EMP generator at him was any indication. Mansoor pulled away from the building energy and he whipped his machine's free servo out, snatching onto the EMP emitter before starting to pull.

The maneuver distracted Heinrich, and that was all he needed to do.

"Everyone! Get in there and do your job!" he barked over the radio to the rest of Cariburn Squadron.

"Yes, sir!" they replied as one.

Outside, he could see that the mobile suits were now moving to take on the rest of Master Goose Militia's electronic warfare division, beam rifles firing and beam sabers clashing as they went at it. Missiles flew every which way, allowing them to get in some hits, only for a few Windams to take out the projectiles using their EMP generators. The fight was going to be intense, he knew.

And this time, they were going to win!

. . .

Jutsui Island

"HAH!" Quatre was forced to block one of the Blood Angels as the man made a move to try and get past him towards the city beyond in pursuit of one of Sicario's Murasames.

He gritted his teeth as he braced Sandrock for the shove, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "You really don't care much about the lives lost!" he muttered.

The pilot didn't answer, but then again, why would he? From what he was getting from these guys, it seemed like they were a lot like Desperado had been, or even this Galm Team Heero had fought back in the First Bloody Valentine War.

They were the complete opposite of Sicario in every way. And it made him sick to his stomach as he brought one of his Heat Shotels up to cut through the machine's left arm and moved to the right to avoid a swing of the pilot's beam saber. He glanced back to see Trowa's Gundam unleashing its devastating arsenal, sending a salvo of missiles and beams right for an incoming trio of Blood Jet Windams. The Windams had to break off from the attack, but that was all that was needed for Sicario's mercs to move in.

A group of twelve Murasames jumped them, splitting off into three groups of four. To Quatre, it seemed like overkill, but then as he saw how the mercs fought, it became clear.

Sicario's pilots were all about limiting collateral, and that meant precision strikes at times. And with four machines to each Blood Jet Windam, that meant they could attack these guys with ruthless precision like surgeons. The teams went in for the attack, one team cleaving a Blood Jet Windam into four while one lost all four limbs and plummeted to the ground below. The last machine, however, had a more interesting fate. While it did lose its limbs like the second one, one of the Murasames of Typhoon Squadron flew in and snatched it before tearing off the Jet Striker, giving a nod afterwards.

'A prisoner!' the Gundam pilot realized. 'That will help immensely, given how they are supposed to be coordinating with Unato's forces!'

The Murasame flew back in the direction of the Hurricane, and Quatre moved in front of another Windam attempting to go and rescue their comrade. "I don't think so!" he hissed.

He lashed out with both Heat Shotels and carved into the enemy pilot, leaving only two halves of a burning mobile suit behind him as he landed on the other side, Sandrock's cloak falling about its shoulders. He glanced back as the Windam exploded, leaving nothing behind but battered and burning remains.

He shot a glance back at the rest of the Squadron as they finished mopping up the remnants of the Blood Angels Mercenaries.

It hadn't been an easy fight, but it had been easy to keep them contained to the plains of the island, he had to admit. But at the same time, there had been a few close calls, what with how close one of the Windams had gotten to a smaller town on the outskirts of Honkai City. Even now he still shuddered at the implications of what could have happened had he and Trowa not intervened when they did.

"All forces, report in!" came a familiar female voice over the COMMs.

Quatre pressed the button for the COMMs and the image of Captain Stimson appeared.

"This is Quatre. Our forces have finished off the last of the Blood Angels," he reported.

. . .

Outsui Island

Shemei and Mu were going to town.

The two mobile suits were cutting into the mercs of the Goofy Gophers with brutal efficiency.

That allowed Trident Squadron to go in and finish up any stragglers that they missed.

As the Hawk of Endymion slashed through another Jet Windam, he glanced to the left as he saw Shemei's green Beam Sword cut through two more. "This is not as difficult as it seems," he remarked.

"Don't dis the Goofy Gophers just because of their name," Shemei cautioned. "And speaking of, you got incoming!"

Mu's radar rang in his cockpit at that point and he glanced to the monitors to see incoming artillery shells. He was forced to dart to the right, just as they sailed past his location. "Good call!" he exclaimed.

"Told you," Shemei said with a light giggle.

The former AF pilot rolled his eyes before he shifted his gaze back to the current fight at hand.

He glanced to the group of Windams coming close and he peeled to the right, his beam rifle firing repeatedly in their direction, forcing them to split up as Trident Squadron sped in, their machines weaving and dodging the artillery fire. He watched as the unit split up into six wing pairs, circling around for the kill as the Windams weaved and ducked from his rifle fire and Shemei's attacks. The Murasames flexed their wings wide open and tail stabilizers snapped out as they drew their beam sabers and flew in, each wing pair targeting a specific Windam.

Mu watched in amazement as the wing pairs swiftly closed in on their foes, delivering powerful swings with their sabers and cleaving each machine either in half or forcing them to back off before going in for the kill.

It was a ruthless fight, and for what it was worth, he didn't feel any qualms about attacking these men who served his former country's true parasitic masters. It was akin to a cleansing, he realized as one of the Murasames flashed by, the cross on its wings glistening in the light of the morning sun.

A cleansing of the soul of humanity.

The war that LOGOs had wrought, the dark desires they drew out, the hatred they enflamed, the primal urges that lay within... It all made sense now. It was World War II all over again, and the demonic soul of the Nazi Reich had taken hold of America's body, possessing it and driving a minority of the people to committ war crimes on a scale that the Nazis would have utterly drooled at.

The more he stared at the Murasames and Windams clashing, the more he could see one of them recoil as if being burned by the cross embedded on the shield as the Murasame pilot rammed it into the gut of the Windam it was facing. Like a burning sensation had taken hold of the pilot and forced them to back off. And the more he watched, the more he could... sense... an aura of... darkness... around the Windams.

It was strange, but then it was gone and he shook his head. 'The hell was that?' he thought in confusion.

He was startled back to reality when he heard the lock-on alert blaring in his cockpit and he turned his mobile suit around just in time to see a Windam coming up from behind. Reacting with the instinct of a veteran, he brought up his Planet Defensors just in the nick of time as the Windam's beam rifle fired. The shot was deflected, but also with it went some of the Tallgeese Kai's battery reserves. He gritted his teeth as he pulled back and fired his own beam rifle.

The Windam dodged and he dove down, trying to use the Tallgeese's superior speed to outrun the enemy pilot. He glanced back to see the Windam flying after, its thrusters roaring and a huge plume of blue-white fire emitting from its back. The pilot drew back the beam saber and hurled it like a javelin, forcing Mu to bring up his sword to block it, but barely. As the beam saber flew away from its owner, he put his own sword away and braced himself for the inevitable acceleration as he gunned the throttle, his free servo clenched and drawn back.

He was forced back into his seat, and he gritted his teeth as he shoved the arm controls forward and the Tallgeese's clenched servo lashed out, slamming into the head of the Windam and knocking it clean off its shoulders. Mu then grabbed the decapitated helm and whipped his machine around in a quick curve, throwing the Windam's head right for another and slamming the head into the thrusters of another Jet Windam. The Jet Striker exploded and the machine fell right towards the ocean where a number of RHIBs were deploying from the Poseidon.

He could see that a number of pilots had ejected from their machines and were being picked up by the RHIBs for prisoners, he noted. A smart move on their part. And since the SS United States had been given a full brig, according to the reports he had received, it made sense as she could hold PoWs then.

And this was the first step in the reclamation of Orb.

The fighting had finally died down, and he sighed as he watched the Murasames of Trident Squadron reenter into formation for the flight back to the boat.

"All forces, report in!" came a familiar female voice over the COMMs.

"SS United States, this is Shemei Bristow. Our forces have just captured Outsui Island, and we have prisoners being rounded up even as we speak," Shemei radioed in.

. . .

Sadeyori Island

The fighting was getting even more intense. The rivalry between Master Goose and Sicario was never more present than in the brutal matches between the pilots of Cariburn Squadron and the team under Rommel.

For all their skill, Rommel Team was not able to down any of the fighters or Murasames of Sicario's elite high-speed strike squadron. It was a testament to their experience, and their planning, that they were able to hold their own.

Sicario's forces were not just holding their own, they were also doing damage to the Windams, but it was a lot easier said than done. Seeing as how brutal Master Goose was, they had to put their all into this fight. Mansoor was one of those fighting hard, and it was only because he had put his all into mastering his machine that he was able to fight so effectively against Heinrich Rommel.

With a loud roar, he jetted forward, his machine's beam saber seeming to glow with the fire of the divine as he slashed. The Windam's beam saber moved up to block, but it was just barely. Heinrich's eyes narrowed as he gritted his teeth, trying to push back against this inferior's weapon.

'How is it that they're so skilled?!' he thought. 'I am one of the Master Race, and these fools are not only holding their own, they are actually trying to drive us off this island!'

He shifted his hands on the controls and pressed down on the foot pedals, twisting his body as he did so. The maneuver broke the attack of his opponent and allowed him to draw back before putting his beam saber away and drawing his EMP burst gun. He aimed it and pulled the trigger, the charge rattling his machine and making the electronics flicker briefly before the screens stabilized. He grinned as he saw the burst heading towards the Murasame, only to stare in shock as the pilot did a maneuver that would have left many other machines torn to shreds.

Gunning the thrusters, the Sicario pilot flipped his machine around in a tight loop, a move that only a fighter jet could pull. While the Murasame's frame was strained from the maneuver, it held together, a stark contrast to what he had been expecting. Clearly Sicario had modded their machines somewhat to be able to handle tighter G forces than most other machines.

Heinrich's eyes hardened as he drew his beam saber once more and charged in, a roar escaping his throat as he did so.

"RAAAAAAAAAH!"

As he charged in, he could vaguely sense his opponent ahead of him, but it was blurry, almost like he was seeing things through a fog. A sense of cloudiness was in his head, and he hated it. His squadron was holding their own, he could sense, but that could change at any given time. And he needed all his men to live if they were to hold the line against the rebels, Terminal, the EF, the Kingdom of Scandinavia, and Orb alike.

And he was not about to let them die until they had accomplished their task of destroying the inferior races of man!

A strange sensation filled his brain and then he... 'heard'... a snapping sound inside his mind, so to speak. And then a shattering broke through the haze that had clouded his mind and thoughts.

A sensation of overwhelming energy flooded his thoughts and he was overcome briefly by the sudden surge in thoughts as they smashed through his mental barricades. He could sense them... their thoughts, intentions, everything. It was a power he knew he could use, and it was one he reveled in. All this power... and it was his. His and his alone!

A cackle escaped him as he blocked the Murasame's attempted slash with its beam saber, and then retaliated when the pilot tried to kick. He had already moved his shield in front of his cockpit to block it. He grinned as he eyed the mercenary pilot with a sinister grin. "You fool...!" he chuckled. "You are nothing to me. You never were. And it shows. Your moves are far too easy to see. And that... is what will be your downfall!"

"Hardly!" the man hissed back over the COMMs. "You're the one who will die! Not me!"

Heinrich merely shook his head as he closed down the COMMs. "Such an insect."

A loud explosion suddenly caught his hearing, and then the next thing he knew, there was a sudden surge of thoughts that rushed into his mind, and he cried out as his entire brain began to ache, almost like an ice pick was being stabbed into the sensitive flesh beneath his skull. He brought his machine to a halt, and with shaking hands, tore off his helmet and grabbed at his head, as if trying to tear off his own skull cap to rip his brain out.

"AAAAAAAGH!" he cried. "What...the...hell is this!?"

. . .

Mansoor took note of the way the Windam was seemingly clutching at its helm with both servos and he blinked his SEED-dilated eyes in confusion, only for realization to dawn soon after.

This was their chance to finish off the Rommel Team!

He glanced to his left and saw the remains of one of the Jet Windams plummeting to the ground of Sadeyori Island, and he nodded once as he saw the Murasame responsible for the suit's destruction. The pilot lowered her beam rifle and gave a salute with the free servo of her machine.

He nodded back before he keyed the COMMs to all his machines. "All units, go for it!" he roared.

"OOORAH!" the cry came.

The remaining Windams were eagerly pounced on by the rest of Sicario's unit, leaving nothing but burning hulks remaining, save for one which fled in the aftermath of the battle.

Mansoor panted heavily as he gripped his beam saber in one servo, oil dripping down the armor of his machine's chest and helm. His eyes were wide as he felt the last surges of adrenaline and SEED Mode wearing off. The exhaustion of the fight was starting to creep up on him, but he ignored it in favor of checking in with his squadron. "Cariburn Squadron, report in..." he rasped.

"A-Cariburn here," a thickly accented Indian voice replied. "We are all okay."

"Cariburn-M here," a female voice with a silky alto remarked. "We're still kicking."

That was followed by a number of other voices responding in the affirmative.

"Good." Mansoor nodded. "Did anyone shoot down the leader?"

A chorus of negatives came oevr the airwaves and Mansoor sighed, running a hand along his helmet. "Dammit... I was hoping we'd get him."

"He's just too cunning, sir," another pilot responded. "And not to mention I sensed him... awakening."

"Damn. A Newtype then," the Arab growled. He lowered his hand and closed his eyes before opening them again, his SEED going dormant. "We'll have to report that one to the boss."

"I'll handle it," the woman said. "You have to respond to the captain of the Big U, I think."

He blinked before he heard another voice.

"All forces, report in!" came a familiar female voice over the COMMs.

The commander of Cariburn Squadron nodded and dialed it in, bringing up the image of Captain Stimson on his main screen. "This is Cariburn One. We just about finished off the Rommel Team of Master Goose. Their leader escaped, but he's in no shape to continue fighting as it is," he replied.

"All the more reason for us to regroup now," the captain ordered. "We've got a new target to strike."

. . .

Kotsu Island

To Konrad Curze, the island was just a foolish paradise.

After all, as a Coordinator, he was one of the superior breed.

But he was not like all the other Coordinators. No, he was a Combat Coordinator, enhanced and tuned from birth to surpass even other Coordinators. It was just as well, too, that he was not like even the other Combat Coordinators. He was one of only a minority who had broken the mental conditioning of their former masters. And as a result, he had to constantly wear glasses to hide his retina ID code. In fact, it was to hide his eyes in general, mostly because the sclera was close to dark gray and his irises and pupils were pure black due to the imperfect enhancement process. The effect, when combined with his dark hair and pale skin, made him seem almost demonic.

And it was his attitude that only added to his reputation as the Night Haunter.

He currently sat in the old home he had rented, dressed in his black and purple pilot suit, his helmet resting beside his legs as he rested one hand on one knee. His sunglasses kept his eyes hidden from the public, and even his own men were terrified by his eyes.

His eyes narrowed as he heard the door open behind him. "What?" he asked curtly.

"Sir, it's..." the man gulped nervously. "It's... from our employer. The rebels and Sicario have made their move towards Yalafath."

"I see." Konrad closed his eyes. "All the more reason for us to anticipate their movements."

"Ah... That's the thing, sir. We... can't exactly strike during the day..." the man muttered.

"Sometimes one must make decisions that they do not enjoy," Konrad lectured as he stood up, grabbing his helmet and turning to walk towards the window. He looked out, his eyes fixed on the ocean beyond the house's deck. "And sometimes operations in the day are what we excel at, too. Depending on the circumstances, of course."

He then turned his dark gaze on the man behind him, looking over his shoulder as he did so.

"Now then, tell me. What of the other companies on the outer islands? What has become of them?"

His subordinate shivered. "Well, sir... they were all taken down... by Sicario and Terminal..." he admitted. He gulped.

"...I see." Konrad turned back around. "How was it done, then, my son?"

When he mentioned that familial term, it always brought terror to the men. Unlike others, Konrad saw his mercenaries as his literal flesh and blood, seeing as how they were all Combat Coordinators like he was. It was rumored he even related to them by blood and genes, as some Combat Coordinators were cloned from the DNA of an original. But there was no way to definitively prove this rumor, seeing as how Night Lords Security Consultants was never willing to undergo genetic screening for entry into certain parts of military bases, only letting their actions and reputation be their identification.

"Also Rogue Coyote was taken out... by the White Legend and her allies... including an old battleship..." the man muttered.

That was enough to throw Konrad for a loop. His eyes widened beneath his sunglasses. "What... did you just say?"

"Rogue Coyote was taken down... by Terminal, the EF, and the resistance, which somehow fielded an old battleship from the Second World War AD," the man whispered.

Konrad was gobsmacked. Never in his entire life had he even considered the possibility of using an old WWII battleship, which by this point was unable to even move or have parts reinstalled. So to do such a thing was tantamount to literally bringing out an old museum piece for a futile effort. But if it was actually operational... then how could they have managed to fire up the old boilers and refurbish some of the outdated components for refit?!

He had no knowledge of how in depth the resistance's study of the old ships had been, and when combined with technology such as 3D printing, 3D modeling, and simulations, it was in theory possible to refurbish them and learn how to work their boilers and guns. It was a reminder of why no one was to underestimate those who knew logistics better than anyone else across the world.

He gritted his teeth as he clenched his fists. "I see... so then, we must be prepared for if such a ship comes our way."

The man nodded quickly before he bowed and backed up, closing the door as he left.

Once his son was gone, Konrad turned back to the window and looked out at the sea, watching the few seagulls circling overhead.

He had no idea just what was going to come his way.

Or that he was going to head right into a trap.

. . .

Camelot

Aboard the Pacific Fleet flagship for Sicario, things were starting to look up.

Alekos was sitting at the table and his eyes were fixed on the island before the assembled members of Sicario's fleet command and the four pilots from the Dominion.

He cast his gaze towards Captain Petri Sokolovosky, captain of the Poseidon, who sat off to the right, flanked by Quatre and Trowa, two of the Gundam pilots.

Captain Sanjay Joshi of the Hurricane was seated to his left while beside him sat Mu and Shemei. Facing the group was the main monitor, showing Captain Rebekah Stimson of the Big U, and Captain Sakchai Bunnag of the USS Missouri.

"So, we're all here then?" he noted.

Everyone gave a nod.

"All right. Good." Alekos narrowed his eyes briefly. "Now, I'm not going to mince words here. We did take down three islands. But there is still one left, and you know who it's being held by."

"Yeah. I remember about that," Stimson said seriously. "The Night Lords are not ones to underestimate given their reputation for even fighting against other mercenaries."

"All the more reason to strike at the island before they can do anything," Sakchai remarked.

"Not exactly," Captain Sokolovsky said darkly. "If you recall where they are, that would put the civilians and tourists in danger. And we are not about to risk our reputation in causing collateral damage to their homes or even taking their lives."

"I know. I'm just saying is all," the battleship captain stated, raising his hands.

Mu sighed. "Well, we do need an idea on how to take them out. And we can't just go in and take them down willy-nilly."

"And I have one," Alekos said seriously.

"Then tell us," Quatre suggested gently.

The Greek mercenary nodded. "Very well." He looked down at the map and enlarged the island in question. "Kotsu Island as you know is a resort island for the wealthy of Orb and a huge tourist hotspot as well. So that makes it difficult for us to fight them on or above the island itself. That means we have to lure them out and away from the island so as to not cause damage or loss of life to the civilians."

"And how will we do that?" Shemei wondered, folding her arms.

"Simple." Alekos pressed the image and he moved it, panning the island down to a large stretch of ocean. "This is where we will lure them to. We know that they have been gunning to try and take us out for some time now. So... we're going to use that to our advantage. Our carriers are going to provide the bait, and then we'll be waiting with all forces ready to deploy and you four will be the vanguard, striking them down hard and fast with your machines and skill. We will keep any stragglers from getting away from you."

"So you want us to be the ones to finish them off?" Trowa questioned. "I thought you would be the ones to finish them."

"While we could, I want to be prepared for possible reinforcements," the captain of the Camelot explained. "Remember, the Atlantian Reich's Pacific Fleet is still out and about. And although you do have a fast command ship and a pair of battleships, the United States, Canada, and Mexico still lack a real navy. And that's not counting Great Britain and Ireland in the Atlantic, as well."

"I see where you're going then," Sanjay rearked. "It's more to keep the Atlantians from reinforcing the islands!"

"Exactly," Alekos said with a grin. Then his grin faded as he became serious. "This entire operation, Operation: Dawnbringer, will be the one thing that illuminates Orb's freedom once more."

"Dawnbringer..." Shemei crossed her arms thoughtfully. "I kinda like it."

Quatre pursed his lips. "I'm not normally one for mercenaries coming up with military operations, but in this case, I think it fits."

Sakchai sighed heavily. "You're right in that we don't have a real navy yet, especially since most of our ships were scrapped after the Reconstruction War and those... things... they call ships were built."

Alekos was silent as he nodded. "That's why we're going to be keeping stragglers from escaping. If the Atlantian Reich sends their Pacific Fleet remnants your way, we'll be the ones to hold them off and bring them down."

"Just the three of you against an entire fleet won't cut it," Mu protested. "No matter how skilled you guys are, you're only three ships to an entire fleet!"

"And that hasn't stopped us before," Petri countered. "We've dealt with pirates before and some of them even worked in fleets before. Probably not as many as the Reich's Pac Fleet, but it still gives us some experience in that particular area of combat. And with our ships having nuclear reactors, we can hold out much longer than they can."

Mu could see where the Russian mercenary was going with this, but the very idea still made him uneasy.

"Plus, Mu, don't you remember that we trashed their Pacific Fleet?" Shemei suddenly interjected. "Me and Heero and the others took out Pearl and San Diego."

Mu did remember that, but for all he knew the puppets in D.C. had replaced those men with even more radical diehards. "True, but for all we know-"

He was cut off by a laugh from Captain Stimson. He blinked as he looked to her in confusion. "Sorry. It's just you really think that we would let some racist bastards into power at a military base?" she asked, shaking her head. "People who are nothing but diehard Nazis like them do not deserve to be in power at any military facilities, period." Her grin faded as she became serious. "The reasoning is simple: if they have such power, they can use that power to destroy or enslave Coordinators or even those who lack blonde hair and blue eyes, which as you know were the racial traits Nazis wanted people to have."

"Hold on." Alekos narrowed his eyes. "You mean to tell us that that same belief is coming back?"

Stimson nodded once. "Yeah. A lot of men in the civilian industries, particularly of blonde hair and blue eyes, have been recruited against their wills, forcing the rest to go underground. Our forces are a mixed bag, as you know, and that includes minorities that are starting to become enslaved, like African Americans. The south in particular is riled against slavery, especially after the Civil Rebellions of 0044 CE."

Mu knew what she meant by that. He had just been a kid when he learned about them, and it had been a real shocker for the Atlantic Federation leadership - back when it had been run by sane people and not a cabal of old men who threw temper tantrums over change - so much that they stamped down on racial discrimination and passed the Anti-Racial Act of 0045, making it thereby illegal to discriminate based on skin tone alone. The landmark law had included a hefty fine for businesses that gave those with darker skin tones less money and work in comparison to those with lighter skin tones. The fines were then used to rebuild and revitalize housing where African Americans had been left to barely make ends meet, and thus included a complete redoing of infrastructure in those areas. Old buildings had been torn down and newer ones built, complete with up-to-date indoor plumbing and active AC and heating utilities.

Schools where kids were barely learning were also bulldozed and updated to modern standards. Grocery stores had been built, roads repaved and redone, and most of all, the gangster hideouts were found out and completely removed. Parks were put into place to encourage kids to play and have fun instead of running around on dirty streets and getting into drugs. Libraries were built to encourage reading.

It had been a complete 180 after those rebellions. As a result, education and prosperity had climbed, and by the 60s, many of those families who had been subjected to generational poverty were starting to build generational wealth instead.

But now that very idea was being threatened. So far, LOGOs had not touched it, but it was only a matter of time before that generational wealth was stripped from the African American community.

"I remember reading about the Rebellions in high school," Mu remarked. "But to think that everything is being threatened..."

"That is true, but that's beside the point," Stimson countered. "The point is, Nazi racial beliefs are resurfacing and many people don't want that to become the norm for our country, especially given how our diversity was a key asset in ensuring we continued to thrive."

"A sort of reversal of what America represented," Trowa muttered. His eyes narrowed as he looked to the captain of the Big U. "What can you tell us about who's in charge of Pearl Harbor and San Diego then, if they are not believers in Blue Cosmos or LOGOs' racial beliefs?"

Stimson was silent for a moment as she chewed on her bottom lip. Then she looked up. "I can't exactly say a lot due to the possibility of someone overhearing, but what I can tell you is that they are former captains who have demonstrated much experience in managing fleets and have had no contact with Blue Cosmos or LOGOs at all during their careers." She gave a wink at that, and Quatre hummed thoughtfully.

"It seems to me then that Blue Cosmos tends to recruit and promote those who show martial skill and ambition, and then LOGOs visits them and then they become blindly devoted to their cause," he mused.

"We're not sure as to what happens during those meetings, but I have a very bad feeling that it has something to do with drugs and brainwashing," Stimson muttered darkly. "My uncle... he was one of those who met with Djibril prior to the First Bloody Valentine War, and a few months later, he wasn't the same man I knew. He... He had completely changed. No longer did he want me to spend time with Coordinators, and nor did he want me to serve in the Navy, which had been my dream from when I was a little girl. He..." Here she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. "Had I not taken action to save myself or my father... he'd be dead and I'd be in jail for having aborted a baby."

Quatre's eyes widened as Mu's face paled. Shemei clenched her fists on her arms at that. "Go on," Trowa said calmly, though his eyes were narrowed dangerously.

Stimson merely nodded. "After the incident, we had his body examined to try and figure out what changed him. Within his system we found a number of drugs that had to do with mood alterations and behavioral changes. They were analyzed by the medical personnel at our base, and it was concluded that he had been drugged with them." Her eyes were somber at that. "He... he used to be a good man, one who would never hurt a Coordinator or a woman. But ever since that day, he wasn't the same."

"I'm so sorry..." Alekos whispered. "I had no idea..."

"None of us did," said Petri. "But that's why we're here. To end this mockery of a nation once and for all."

The Big U's captain nodded. "Right." She looked up. "So I can verify that the two commandants in charge of Pearl and San Diego are legit. They are of the same mindset as us."

"That's about as good as we can get for the moment," Sanjay sighed. "Though I wish we could've learned more about them."

"I'll tell you more once the revolution gets under way," Stimson remarked. "For now, back to the matter at hand."

Shemei took the chance to look at the three ships placed on the map near Kotsu Island. "So, which carrier is going to be the bait?" she asked.

Alekos looked to her. "Which one?"

She nodded.

The Greek mercenary pursed his lips as he studied the three ships. Then, slowly reaching out, he selected the middle one. "Poseidon will act as the bait."

"Hold on. Why my ship?" Petri asked.

"Simple. Yours is the smallest of the carriers Sicario has at their disposal," Alekos remarked. "Plus, with your additional propellers on the front, you can make it seem like you're having engine trouble. That way, you can act as though your ship is prone to breaking down. And that will lure in the Night Lords from the island. They can't resist attacking a struggling mercenary ship."

Petri narrowed his eyes as he considered his superior's words. While it did make sense, it was something he didn't want to risk his pilots for. After all, the Poseidon did carry less Murasames than the rest of the fleet.

"I don't really like it," he muttered. "But... considering the circumstances... I don't see any other choice."

"I'm sorry we have to do it, too," Sanjay remarked. "But this way, you'll have backup. Our ships will be just over the horizon, so we'll be able to launch a surprise attack on them." He then eyed Stimson's image. "Provided that we're cloaked, of course."

"We'll use the Big U's ECM suite to render your ships invisible on radar and sensors alike," Stimson replied.

"The Mighty Mo will be hanging back to launch a salvo if needed," Sakchai added.

Mu, Quatre, Shemei, and Trowa all nodded.

Petri had to admit. The idea was a bad one, but with the support of Terminal, the resistance, the EF, the Kingdom of Scandinavia, Orb's own rebels, and his fellow mercs... well... there was no other force in the world like them.

This was the first melding of nations under a united cause.

The United Nations was starting to reform...

And the Reich didn't even know it.

. . .

Kotsu Island

The entire island was starting to settle in for an evening of fun activities or relaxing under the setting sun with a loved one.

A few people out on the beaches did notice some ships in the distance coming and going, one of which was an aircraft carrier.

No one on the island was fully aware of the type of aircraft carrier though. They only knew it as a warship from the Republic of East Asia by its base design.

And that was just what Sicario was counting on.

Further out to sea, away from the Poseidon, the Camelot and Hurricane were lurking just beyond visual range for the enemy's artillery and mobile suits. The four Dominion mobile suit pilots were prepared to do battle, and for what it was worth, Alekos noted, they were as calm as cucumbers. Their machines were to be the ones to deal with the Jet Windams of the Night Lords, and their machines were to be the ones to mop up any survivors.

His eyes were narrowed as he studied the battlefield at sea through his binoculars.

The only reason they were able to keep an eye on the Poseidon was due to the resistance's satellite hijacking. He had to admit their abilities were something else. Hacking into enemy satellites and using them against them was just downright brilliant. And it helped that a lot of their tech people actually worked with said satellites to begin with.

The captain of the Camelot lowered his binoculars, looking to his radar officer. "Any sign of the Night Lords?" he asked.

"Negative, sir," she said, scanning the screen before her. "I'm kind of scared that the trap may fail."

"Me too," he admitted, startling her. "For all our skill and experience, for all that we can do... we just can't predict what other people are going to do."

"Still doesn't mean we should count on its failure," someone else remarked further back. "We're counting on their desire to take us out. After all, we just gave them a tempting target."

That was true, Alekos noted. But there was still a possibility it wouldn't work.

All they could do was hope for the best this time around.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, praying to God for a victory in this fight.

The last thing he expected was to hear the alarms blaring and his eyes snapped open as he turned, running towards the radar station. "What's happening?" he demanded.

"It's the Night Lords! They're moving out now!" the radar operator exclaimed. "The sun is setting now, so it's perfect for them."

"All the more reason to prepare for battle then!" Alekos stated. "I want flares launched from the Poseidon as soon as they are within range."

The woman nodded.

"And speaking of, have we been detected by the Night Lords yet?" the captain asked.

"No, sir," the radar officer reported. "The Big U's ECM suite is working as intended. They have no clue we're out here."

That was just what Alekos wanted to hear. A smirk crossed his face. "Good. As soon as they're within range... launch all Murasames and fighters. The Night Lords won't know what hit them this time."

He shifted his gaze back towards the Poseidon, which was by now faking having significant engine trouble. The front-facing props were going every now and then at various speeds, and with the addition of some smoke from dry ice, it was like they really were having a malfunctioning engine. He glanced to the bridge windows and made his way over, looking out at where the fight was going to take place.

"God... Please watch over us..." he muttered softly to himself.

. . .

Konrad had to suppress a sneer as he watched the damaged Sicario ship limping along helplessly. It was just perfect...

A little fish waiting to be eaten by a larger predator.

His fingers twitched on the controls of his Windam, and he closed his eyes before opening them again.

Already the sun was setting. The new moon was upon them, and the Night Lords would stalk the land once more, hunting down any mercenaries and/or Coordinators in their wake. He steeled himself and gripped the controls tighter.

"My sons, the time is upon us. Our goal is to go in and take that vessel, not just for our own use, but also to showcase how Sicario is not the best mercenary company on this planet we call home," he began, speaking over the frequency shared by all the Night Lords. "The Night Lords have long since sought to showcase the superiority of the Naturals, and we shall continue to do just that, proving once and for all that Coordinators are just space-born abominations. Our superiors want us to finish those beasts, and we shall show them no mercy! For we are the Lords of the Night! We are the Night Lords! And we shall take control from the shadows!"

"HURRAH!" came the cry.

As the COMM went dormant, Konrad grasped his helmet and donned it, locking it into place before he rested his hands on the controls of his Windam and triggered the startup for his machine. The dark colored machine's optical visor flashed brilliant red and he flared the wings, igniting the Jet Striker and taking flight alongside his 'sons'.

He scanned over the radar, noting how only the Poseidon was out there. A smirk crossed his face as he gunned the engines, flying on ahead of his 'sons' to start the hunt.

Totally unaware he was flying right into a trap.

He watched as the first of his 'sons' launched his missiles, the projectiles screaming right for the crippled carrier...

. . .

"NOW!" Stimson screamed over the COMM line.

. . .

Only for a brilliant red comet to blast across his line of sight, a flash of green cutting through the missile and causing it to explode.

His eyes widened as he scanned for any sign of the intruder, and his gaze landed on the single red blur as it came to a stop, reddish waved of energy streaming off its wings in the "Wings of Light" system. The red mobile suit known to many mercs as the Crimson Demon flashed its green optics menacingly and its Beam Sword hummed with power as the pilot raised it, and he felt a slight tingle of fear at this intimidating mobile suit.

Konrad shook his head to dispel the fear as he gripped the controls. "So... The Crimson Valkyrie makes her appearance," he noted. While he was not thrilled with her being a Coordinator, he could at least respect her skills.

"And you are?" the voice of the Valkyrie asked.

The mercenary triggered the COMMs and dialed into her frequency. "I am Konrad Curze, the leader of the Night Lords," he said. "And I am the one you shall be facing, Crimson Valkyrie."

"I'm not one to accept nicknames from mercs like you, but I will admit it has an intimidating note to it," Shemei remarked. "But that's beside the point. The reason I'm here is simple. To take you down!"

"Ah." Konrad closed his eyes briefly. "So it seems Sicario has gotten your attention then."

"I can't really say, but I will admit this: their plans are good enough to be labeled as military ops." Shemei then raised her Beam Sword a bit higher until it was chest level. "And we will bring the dawn to Orb once more!"

"I'd like to see you try," Konrad countered. "Our employer has made sure we are well compensated for this."

"Spoken like a true merc," Shemei grunted.

Konrad merely nodded before he cut the line, indicating he was done talking.

Shemei seemed to accept it as she charged at him, relying on her mobile suit's overwhelming speed to try and outmaneuver him. He had to admit, she did have an advantage in speed, but such speed also made it hard to control such a machine. Even with experience and skill, the faster a mobile suit went, the harder it was to maneuver it.

And he took advantage of her supposed weakness by pvioting to the right as she tried to thrust her Beam Sword into his Windam's chest. The blade barely missed his chest armor, boiling the paint away and forcing him to bring up his shield in case she came back around. But he was anticipating her next strike and he ignited his own beam saber, bringing up his blade and blocking the Beam Sword's edge.

"Nice try," he muttered to himself. "But the faster a mobile suit moves, the harder it is to maneuver it."

But while that may have been the case for most mobile suits, it was not the case for the next machine to spring into the fray: the Tallgeese Kai.

The blue and white machine was built to maneuver at high speed. And Mu was taking full advantage of that fact as he slashed with his beam saber, cutting into the Jet Windam's left leg, only to be forced to draw back as Konrad kicked out with said leg to try and dislodge the beam blade. He did lose a segment of the left foot, but it was nothing in overall comparison to the damage he would have sustained. He fired his head-mounted CIWS at the red mobile suit's helm, forcing Shemei to back off quickly, and giving himself much needed breathing room.

'I guess I was wrong...' he thought, panting a bit. 'That blue and white mobile suit... it's clearly built to maneuver at those speeds. I'll have to be careful from here on out it seems...'

And how right he was.

The mercenary captain was forced onto the defensive as the blue and white machine charged in, beam saber flashing once more as he brought his own sword up to deflect it. He aimed the beam rifle and fired at the Tallgeese Kai, putting the pilot onto the defensive as those orbs flew out from behind it and deflected the shots. His eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses as he shifted tactics, reaching for a "Stiletto" armor penetrator and pulling it out of his machine's side skirt armor. He waited for a moment before he threw the penetrator right for the Tallgeese Kai's left arm.

The pilot saw this incoming and was able to dodge it, but the penetrator gouged out a small sliver of armor as it passed by.

That was all that was needed to cause the weapon to explode. The Tallgeese Kai was rocked by the blast, but it still held together.

Konrad grimaced. 'That machine is also tough. That is troubling for us,' he thought.

. . .

"All forces, launch!" Alekos screamed into his headset.

The battle was now getting underway as the Murasames of all three Sicario ships got airborne, followed by the fighter jets.

Start YOU SAY RUN - My Hero Academia OST - 林 ゆうき

The Battle of Kotsu Island was now under way.

Alekos watched as the Murasames of Cariburn Squadron rocketed towards the Poseidon and their own units. His eyes narrowed as he lifted his binoculars and studied the fight.

For their part, Quatre and Trowa were holding the line, acting as deterrents to keep the Night Lords from escaping their battlespace. Trowa's eyes were narrowed as he glanced at the radar, spotting one of the Jet Windams trying to sneak past him. The infrared and night vision cameras of Heavyarms Arsenal were proving to be very useful as he gunned down the enemy mobile suit with ease. For what it was worth, the fact that very few were getting past them was saying something, as Shemei and Mu were proving to be very hard to take down, but so were the enemy mercs.

The Night Lords were definitely living up to their reputation as one of the top merc companies, that was for sure.

He was forced to bring up his guns and fire a small burst that riddled a Jet Windam with bullet holes as it plummeted into the ocean beneath, leaving only debris. He shifted his gaze to the screen of his radar and he pursed his lips. Already things were shifting.

He could see that the Night Lords were holding their own, but there was just something about the way Sicario fought that made him wonder just how long they could hold out against the largest merc company in the world.

The Murasames of Sicario weaved and ducked as they started to engage those that tried to escape the combined onslaught of Mu ad Shemei, the infamous Crimson Valkyrie nothing more than a blur of red and the Tallgeese Kai moving in a flash of blue and white, using the massively powerful Verniers on its back. Quatre's machine remained a still rock in the air, twin Heat Shotels unleashing devastating close quarters attacks. Flashes of silver cut through the air, cleaving any stragglers through the torsos with deadly efficiency.

He turned his gaze back towards the single ship further out to sea, noticing how she kept her distance, but still within range of the fight. He wondered what Captain Stimson was even thinking, lurking this close to the combat zone. But he didn't need to worry, as the Big U was the fastest ship the resistance had at their disposal, from what little he knew of her. A quick read into her history had shown her intended purposes, and now here she was, acting in a capacity that was not in her design specs. As a command ship, she was a critical target to take out, but with her speed, it was close to even catch her.

At least, from what he had seen.

His musings were interrupted when he heard a call from Shemei over the radio.

"Trowa, you there? We got a large group heading your way!" she relayed.

"I see them," Trowa replied calmly as he studied his readouts. Sure enough, he could see the Windams coming his way. He brought up his mobile suit's Gatling guns and fired them, sending rounds right for the incoming machines.

. . .

Captain Stimson narrowed her eyes as she observed the battle through her binoculars.

Already she could see that things were working in their favor.

But only if they could keep the Night Lords from heading to intercept the attacking force from Terminal and Eurasia. And so far they were doing just that.

The only question was how long they could keep it up.

So far things were in their favor, but the Night Lords were giving as good as they got. And that was worrisome.

How could they turn the tide of the battle in their favor...?

"We got incoming!" one of the radar operators blurted. "It's him! Konrad Curze!"

The captain dropped her binoculars and ran for the bridge windows, looking out as her eyes widened in shock at seeing the signature Windam of the leader of the Night Lords.

Clad in the purest midnight black with dark blue accents, the Midnight Windam was one of the heavily modified variants that mercenaries often purchased to show off their skills or potential influence. The machine's wings were supposedly modified to resemble those of a raven, but in her eyes they looked more like a bat's wings instead. The Midnight Windam also had in place of its beam rifle an electrical pulse rifle, designed to incapacitate a mobile suit or anything that was not hardened against EMPs. Konrad had also added a pair of beam sabers that could combine into one, along with a pair of hand scythes for close quarters combat. It was clear that the Midnight Windam was designed to attack primarily at night or on incredibly foggy days.

Her eyes hardened. "So... he found out about us," she muttered.

"Sir... how can we expect to fight that?!" a crewmember blurted.

Captain Stimson's eyes narrowed. 'The Midnight Windam is a close quarters nightmare, and that's not counting its beam rifle,' she thought. 'It's only a few swipes with those beam sabers or hand scythes and we go down. Our best bet is to rely on the ECM and jamming suite to mess with his machine's radar... Or using our guns for self-defense...'

She had no idea that the ability to fight back would come into play this time around.

She glanced over to her crew. "All hands, prepare for combat!" she barked. "We're going to fight!"

All across the Big U, alarms blared and the ship started to pivot, bringing its guns around to face the Midnight Windam.

. . .

Konrad had to admit that this was an unexpected turn of events.

It hadn't taken him long to figure out the plan of Sicario after seeing the Murasames launching from beyond visual range. BVR combat was normally out of the question due to the N-Jammers buried deep within the surface of the earth, but it was still possible if one removed BVR missiles from the equation. And with carriers lurking out of sight, then it was clear to him that the company had planned this in advance with Terminal and the resistance he had been hearing so much about from other mercs.

He grinned. "So the commanders have shown themselves," he mused.

He reached out to toggle communications...

. . .

Within the Big U's ECM room, one of the sailors manning the jamming suite grinned. "Oh, no you don't!" he purred. His fingers darted over the keyboard before him and already on either side of him, others were working as well to jam the frequencies used by the Reich and the Night Lords.

'Good thing Sicario informed us about this,' he mused.

. . .

Only for the signal to suddenly cut out.

Konrad's eyes widened as he stared at the words on his screens.

"COMMUNICATIONS JAMMED"

"Those bastards!" he howled, slamming his hands down on the controls.

He slowly looked up, his eyes seeming to become darker beneath his glasses as he gritted his teeth. "No matter... I'll take this thing down myself!"

. . .

"Konrad is on the move!" someone blurted.

"Helm, come about at four-five degrees to the port! Aim starboard side gun just two degrees down!" Stimson commanded. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned over the specs of the Big U once more. "If he gets in close, let loose with everything in sonic!"

A few pairs of eyes widened at that before a sneer crossed the face of one of those in charge of the newest defensive measure. "Oh, he won't know what hit him!" the woman cackled. "Non-lethal and very annoying at best, downright deadly at worst!"

The captain nodded, her eyes hard. Then she grabbed the mike and contacted the engine rooms. "All engines ahead full!" she barked. "No holding back! Give her all she's got and then some!"

. . .

Konrad was caught off guard when he saw one of the four guns mounted to the old ship swing around to lock onto his position.

But he quickly regained himself and calmly drew one of the hand scythes for combat. A single swipe would be all it took to take down the old ocean liner. And then he could rest knowing that the rebels would be without a commanding vessel.

He sped in, his machine's visor flaring as it drew back the scythe...

And the gun roared, forcing him to pivot up and right into the path of another secret weapon.

. . .

"LRADs are online and fully operational!" someone shouted.

The captain gave a grin as she held up a set of noise-cancelling headphones jacked into the ship-wide intercom system. She triggered the system before she donned the headset. "All crew don noise-cancelling headsets!" she ordered.

She watched as everyone put their headsets on and then she looked to the operator of the LRADs and nodded.

The woman gave a nod back before she pressed the button.

. . .

Konrad's ears were suddenly hit by this loud, incessant chirping as it radiated out over the battle zone, catching him by surprise. His eyes widened and he jerked his hands off the controls, gripping the sides of his helmet and ripping it off, tossing it to the floor and then clutching at his ears.

Being a Combat Coordinator, his senses were highly tuned, engineered to the utmost limit of human genetics. And that meant that his hearing was truly top notch, making the sound he was constantly bombarded with a downright annoyance at best, and downright painful at worst. The sonic assault was enough to make him grit his teeth as he closed his eyes, trying to block it out as best he could.

But to no avail. The sound assaulting his finely-tuned sense of hearing was enough to make him cry out in agony as his eardrums throbbed in time with the ascent and descent of the tempo. He didn't know what was happening as his hearing was being constantly assaulted, and he was unable to even get a grasp on what was happening. His entire sense of balance was thrown off, and he found he couldn't even grasp at his controls, he was too focused on trying to keep a sense of awareness around himself.

This sonic blaster...

What was it?!

His mind raced as he tried to figure this out, but there was no way he could even think properly with the constant rise and fall of the sound. It was a lot like a wave rising and falling, or like the tempo of his heartbeat, but audible and very, very high-pitched. He doubled over as his machine hovered there, vulnerable and left open.

. . .

"Ma'am, the Midnight Windam is just sitting there!" the woman in charge of the LRAD radioed over their headsets.

"Then get those guns aimed at that thing and take it out!" Stimson barked. "We have one chance, and I'm not about to let us waste it!"

The helmsman reacted, as if sensing her thoughts, and put the Big U into as tight a turn as he could get her. The large liner had a surprisingly tight turning radius for something so massive, and with four propellers being driven to their limits, she was able to put her bulk to a good use as she generated enough spray to blind any possible incoming enemy machines. The old ship's structure groaned, but she held together firmly despite the intense strain she was going through.

Older liners held together with rivets had a greater chance of tearing some of their plating, but with the advent of welding, it became more common to hold ship together through fusing steel and metal plates together through high heat, which offered a greater chance of structural stability and ensured the framework was longer lasting in the long term. The Big U, being heavily welded and made in prefabricated components, was the truly epitomic vision of what an ocean liner was, and she was enduring well.

As the old ship came about, their guns, both fore and aft, on the port side swung around and fired, sending two shells right for the Midnight Windam. The first rounds struck the machine dead on, blowing off two limbs and shredding a third. In the cockpit, she could only guess as to what Konrad Curze was thinking as he tried to regain control of his suddenly crippled machine. He was now on the attack, coming in hard and fast, his remaining hand scythe held in his intact arm as he no doubt roared, only to not be heard because of their noise-cancelling headsets.

The Windam drew back its arm and swung, gashing a nasty scar across the forward funnel, and letting thick smoke billow out from her wound. A wound that could easily be repaired at Orb once the battle for the country was over, Captain Stimson noted. The Windam sped past, coming back around, and that was what she had been waiting for.

The Big U's starboard guns, fore and aft, came about and barked harshly, sending the shrieking shells right for the Windam. But the Windam dodged them both, and Stimson snarled as she felt the ship shudder through her seat. The guns had fired a second time, but their operators had learned from the opponent. The first shell was off by a mere margin, but that was all that was needed to lure Konrad right into the final one.

The last gun's shell struck his machine right in the chest, and penetrated through, leaving a gaping hole where the cockpit had once been.

A fireball engulfed the Midnight Windam, and its remains plummeted to the ocean below, leaving no trace of the formidable Konrad Curze or his machine behind.

. . .

Camelot

Alekos watched as the Night Lords continued to fight.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to pick out the Midnight Windam, but there was no sign of it.

He was about to call over the COMMs to see if anyone had spotted the machine of Konrad Curze, only for a call to suddenly reach the entire battlefield.

It was Captain Stimson.

"Attention Night Lords!" she barked. "Konrad Curze is now dead! I repeat, Curze is dead!"

"LIAR!" a man screamed. "You cannot kill our genesire!"

"Oh, we did!" the captain retorted. "So now you have a choice. You can either surrender, or continue to fight for a hopeless cause that will, eventually, lead to humanity's demise!"

The entire battle seemed to come to a halt at those words, and that gave Alekos his chance.

"Attention all Sicario assets! FINISH THEM!" he screamed into the COMMs.

"YES, SIR!" the pilots all shouted.

The Murasames and fighters of the mercenary unit charged in, allowing Shemei, Mu, Quatre, and Trowa to fall back. The four had borne the brunt of the fighting, and they needed to rest and resupply their machines, he knew. The foursome had performed beyond all expectations, and he truly felt proud to call them his allies.