Chapter 57 - Escape from Plant Quetta

Sophie and Norea

"Where the fuck is Marty?" Sophie shouted, her voice echoing through the hangar. She stood alongside Norea, both in front of their Gundams. The members of the Nexus 65th, some of whom Sophie recognized from hanging out or playing sports, stood nearby with weapons at the ready, tension thick in the air.

Travis, with his infuriating, smug grin stretching from ear to ear, stood towering over them, hands clasped behind his back. He spoke with the condescension of someone talking to children.

"Ensign Marty Moreno has come down with a highly contagious illness, as ruled by the chief doctor," Travis explained, his voice oozing arrogance. "As the new acting commander of the Nexus 65th, it's my job to ensure everyone stays in fighting shape."

Norea sneered. "Who the hell put you in charge?"

"There was no clear order of command," Travis replied, still grinning, "so I made one."

Sophie's glare was so intense, it seemed to pierce right through him. A vein throbbed visibly on her forehead as her fury bubbled over, so fierce that Norea half-expected Travis to wither under her gaze.

"Listen, pencil dick," Sophie spat, her voice low and venomous, "if even a single hair is missing from Marty's head, I'll circle back here with Norea and blow this ship sky-high, along with everyone in it."

Sophie heard the soldiers tighten their grips on their weapons, but she also heard the satisfying sound of Norea's Gundam raising its Beam Diffuse Gun, the massive weapon humming to life. Sophie relished the way Travis gulped, his brief flash of panic before he composed himself, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Remember your mission, Sophie," Travis warned, though his voice had lost some of its earlier confidence. "This is a military operation. How do you think Dawn of Fold would feel, knowing you and Norea were fraternizing with an officer—"

Travis didn't get the chance to finish before Sophie's fist collided with his nose, the impact resonating through the hangar. Blood streamed from his face as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his nose in disbelief.

"You... you bitch!" Travis sputtered through the blood, his voice cracking as he shouted, "Arrest her!"

But Sophie was already strapping on her piloting helmet, retreating toward her Gundam. Norea kept her weapon trained—not directly on the soldiers, but on the side of the vessel. Sophie knew the stakes: if they tried anything, she'd be flung into space, but her suit had a tracker and enough air to survive. The others wouldn't be so lucky. If push came to shove, she and Norea would come back and obliterate the entire ship without a second thought.

The hangar was packed with people, trucks shepherding soldiers to their mechs. From the old Zaku 1s to the newly arrived Gelgoogs, even to the ancient Titans, each pilot took their place. This was war.

"We're still heading out first," Sophie radioed to Norea.

Norea, closing the book in her hand, let her Gundam's arm slacken, returning it to her side. "Shockingly, they still trust us with that."

Sophie chuckled. "More like they're just waiting to shoot us in the back the moment we turn."

Norea sighed. "Most definitely. Keep your eyes open... I doubt they'll do anything near Plant Quetta, but once we're distracted, in the thick of battle..." Norea snapped her fingers through the radio. "That's when they'll strike."

Sophie laughed loudly. "Boys are always so predictable." Her voice softened. "I hope Marty's okay. You think they hurt him bad?"

Norea considered for a moment, then remembered the bond she shared with Sophie. "He's fine," she said, though her tone was less than certain. "He's their commander, and they know we're allies. They probably roughed him up, but he's their only lifeline to stop us from sending the Gundams after them once the mission's done."

Sophie laughed again, but Norea could tell it was strained. "You've got that right… no point in worrying." But Norea knew Sophie was saying it more for herself than for her. She didn't see how Sophie's anxious eyes kept darting to the hangar doors, hoping—almost desperately—that Marty would walk through. But he never did.

"Gundam Thorn. Gundam Ur. You are clear to sortie. Let the runes of Old Harmony give you consolation. Death to the Group!" the announcer's voice boomed.

"Death to the Group!" the shout echoed in unison, fists raised high.

Their mechs shot out from the hangar, with a squadron of Legion mechs following behind in all colors and types. The fleet kept growing, ship after ship coming into view.

"So... after this, we're free," Sophie said, her voice low.

Norea nodded slowly.

Sophie chuckled darkly, gripping her controls tighter. "Excellent. I could really use something to blow off some steam. Killing a bunch of rich spaciens sounds like a good way to waste time."

Ensign Marty

The ship was in flames. Fire spewed around Marty as the fleet closed in, surrounding the plant on its lone right flank. They had been the first to engage, and now their battle scars were mounting.

Marty sprinted toward the hangar, the dying cries of his crew echoing in his ears. He wanted to help them, but he knew if he gave in to that urge, his life would be forfeit too. The only thing that mattered now was killing Travis. That was the only way he could avenge them—and restore his honor.

Rounding a corner, the ship's gravity suddenly cut out, and Marty slammed hard into a wall. He managed to catch himself on a fissure in the surface, gasping for breath. His eyes widened as he peered down the hallway. The hangar bay doors were wide open, and beyond them, the stars stretched endlessly in the twilight of space.

He pushed off, hovering weightlessly, but as a violent tremor rattled the ship, Marty clutched his head to steady himself. When he finally floated into the empty hangar, there wasn't a soul in sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught glimpses of great tin cans ejecting from the ship—escape pods.

"So, they've issued the order to abandon ship," he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the scene. His gaze followed the pods as they hurtled toward Earth, reinforced with metals and parachutes. They were going to break through the atmosphere. But why?

Shaking his head, Marty glanced around. The racks where the mobile suits were usually stored had been emptied, the chains that once held them now bare. "What the—?" he muttered. He had raced down here only minutes ago, but the Gelgoog was already gone.

Before despair could take hold, something caught his eye. There, in the corner, still intact—was the Full Armor Gundam. Marty's breath caught in disbelief. His mouth hung open. "Did... did they fear the curse that much?" he whispered.

Marty was never a true member of the Legion, not of Harmony stock, but the nails had accepted him. Maybe that was why he'd never bought into all that mumbo jumbo about curses. But to abandon hardware like this?

He floated toward the Gundam, the cockpit already open, and he slid into the seat. "Chassis repaired… fully fueled… all magazines, beam sabers, and rockets refilled and recharged," he murmured, a grin creeping across his face. The curse gnawed at the back of his mind, but the power of the Gundam overwhelmed it. "Full Metal Jacket."

As the words left his lips, another deafening explosion rocked the ship. Marty's eyes widened, his hand slamming down on the red power button. The Gundam's eyes flared to life, glowing crimson. He gripped the controls as more explosions rumbled through the vessel. His vision flickered as the cockpit systems came online, and the screen before him faded into view.

"Fuck this!" Marty shouted, slamming the throttle down. The force tore the rack holding the Gundam in place, and the hangar began to collapse, explosions ripping through the walls. Marty guided the Gundam through the rapidly shrinking opening, barely making it out before the hangar imploded behind him. The blazing blue thrusters of the Gundam trailed along the ship's hull in a half-circle before it shot off into the vastness of space.

Marty was breathless, sweat beading on his forehead as he loosened his collar. He quickly clicked on the radio. "This is Commander Marty Moreno, Nexus 65th. Do you recognize my orders as acting commander, or are you aligning with the mutineers?"

He dared the question, rolling up his sleeves as he stared at the chaotic battle below. His eyes followed the mass-produced, customized Demi Trainers of Plant Quetta being systematically torn apart.

One Ronin-class Titan caught his attention, its powerful engines propelling it across the battlefield. With a swift swing of its massive blade, it cleaved through a Demi Trainer and a Dilenza in one fluid motion, before drifting back into the void of space.

Dilenza... Marty's gaze locked on the distinctive purple units mixed among the gray of the Plant Quetta forces. His eyes widened, then narrowed. These weren't ordinary suits—they were custom, elite models used by the Jeturk family.

His mind flickered to Norea. Guel Jeturk, he thought darkly. The battlefield blurred into the endless blackness of space. Are you here?

The radio crackled, snapping Marty back to the present. He quickly flicked it on. "Report."

"This is Ensign Jamal of Squad 3, reporting for squads 2, 5, and 9. The rest… they've aligned with Travis, sir."

Marty let out a bitter laugh. "So we'll have to deal with the other companies, then?"

There was a hesitant pause. "The Nexus 65th has taken a lot of damage, sir. I'm afraid the flagship is—"

"I know," Marty cut in, his voice cold. "Just say it. We need to move; the mission still stands. What about the Gundam pilots?"

There was a longer pause, as if Jamal was choosing his words carefully. "Unknown," he finally replied.

"Unknown?" Marty's voice sharpened, a trace of anger breaking through.

"Commander… Ensign Travis," Jamal corrected, "He had his own plans for them. Last I heard, they were on the eastern side of the plant, securing the hangars to prevent any escapes."

"Oh, is he now?" Marty sneered. "Tell all squads loyal to me to form up. We're going to kill the traitors—and that prick Travis. He's going to die like the dog he is."

Guel

When Guel saw the ships, panic set in. He and the others had started to run, the Plant's underground section a labyrinth of corridors, the heart of the entire complex. Miles of tunnels stretched out, but the moment Guel heard the gunfire, he ducked behind a stack of crates. Moments later, the staccato rhythm of assault rifles filled the air, cutting down the workers he had known, had worked beside. They were all slaughtered.

He lay on his stomach, tears welling in the corners of his eyes, heart lodged painfully in his throat. Both hands pressed firmly over his mouth, stifling any sound. The shadows from the boxes and the sudden power outage were his only saving grace.

Through the edge of his vision, he saw them—moving in slow, deliberate strides. Guel's breath hitched. They stepped over the bodies as though they were nothing. One of them, his eyes half-lidded with disinterest, casually kicked a severed head out of his path.

"Fucking traitor," Guel heard one of them mutter.

He shut his eyes, willing himself to disappear. He had to stay quiet. They'd leave soon. He just had to wait them out, stay hidden, stay smart.

"What floor do we go to next?" one of the soldiers asked, his voice eerily casual. Another voice answered, different from the rest, making Guel's stomach churn.

"We fan out, secure this area. Kill any stragglers."

Guel swallowed hard, his pulse thundering in his ears.

"Aye aye," one of them cackled. It was all a joke to them—the death, the slaughter. Guel didn't know what to do. His mind raced, heart pounding. They'd find him soon. He was going to die. Why was he even here? He should've just taken his punishment, should've listened to his father. This was his fault.

He knew Shaddiq was dirty. He'd seen what happened with that Earth House girl, heard the whispers of blackmail. It made his skin crawl. What kind of mess was Shaddiq trying to pull him into? If Aiden hadn't pitied them, if Aiden hadn't saved them, they'd already be dead.

Guel squeezed his eyes shut tighter, guilt gnawing at him. Why couldn't he ever win? Aiden's smiling face flashed in his mind—always smiling, always hurting them. Why?

Yet, Guel's mind drifted to the white of his Gundam. Aiden Winters might be the better pilot, but Guel had something Aiden didn't—the ability to push himself to the utmost limit with that Gundam. Guel had tasted battle. He had faced death. He had become a true warrior in mobile suit combat.

He flew off his feet, sprinting around the corner with desperate speed. Behind him, curses echoed, the sound of his pursuers tripping over themselves as they struggled to raise their guns. But Guel was already beelining for the dock. Bullets from an assault rifle screamed after him, and pain suddenly exploded in his left shoulder. His eyes went wide—one bullet had grazed a chunk of skin.

He gasped, but adrenaline kept him focused, pushing through the pain. He reached the open dock door and saw the tools, abandoned mid-task, used to dismantle his Gundam. He floated in the zero-G, kicking off the railing to propel himself toward the hull. He smirked—until another bullet pinged off the Gundam's hull, inches from his head. Guel winced but kept moving.

Throwing himself into the cockpit, he slammed the power button. The display flooded the space with light, and he chuckled darkly as the Legion members began to back away in shock.

"Let's see how you like it when your victims shoot back," Guel muttered.

He seized the controls and triggered the head Vulcans. The Vulcans chewed through the death squad of three, rending their limbs from their bodies. Guel smirked, then took a deep breath, leaning heavily into the seat. For a moment, he looked at the mangled bodies, feeling a twisted sense of disgust—not for the violence, but for the fact that people like them existed in the universe.

"This is Guel Jetturk, pilot of Gundam Schwarzette. Preparing to move out!" He slammed the controls, and the Gundam broke through its restraints, shooting forth from the hangar and into the black expanse of space. Guel watched as the false atmosphere and artificial sky of the plant fell away, leaving only the columns of fire lighting the void.

Guel breathed heavily, feeling the familiar pressure of the permit digging into his skin. "This is Guel Jetturk, pilot of Gundam Schwarzette!" he shouted into his comms. On the other end, the voices either fell silent or erupted in triumphant cheers at the prodigal son's return.

"Who needs help?" he roared, throwing himself into the fray of beams, rockets, and cartridges.

Aiden

It didn't take long for them to find the old space shuttle. The lights were dim, likely due to the power outages, casting a faint glow across the hangar. The door was sealed with specialized technology, allowing ships to pass through undetected. As Aiden scanned the area, he couldn't help but think that it might have been the very point where the Legion slipped in.

Oscar paced anxiously beside Deacon and Aiden, both of whom leaned against the railings on opposite sides. "I never trusted her," Oscar muttered, his voice low but seething with anger. "We're a bunch of fucking idiots… She finds us out in the middle of nowhere, right after Dan's death. She knew. She had to know. She weaponized his death—that fucking bitch!" His fists clenched tight, his knuckles white.

Deacon let out an audible sigh. "Oscar, please… no yelling right now," he said, raising his only hand to his face, the other arm strapped in a medical sling. He winced as he tried to flex his fingers. "We didn't know."

"We should've been smarter!" Oscar yelled, kicking the railing in frustration. The others—Earth House and Cecilia—looked up from below, startled by the outburst. They had sought some privacy, but Oscar had reached his limit.

Aiden rubbed his temple. "Oscar, we don't know how deep this goes," he said, meeting his friend's gaze. "Who knows how long this has been in motion?"

Oscar and Deacon paused, exchanging a look. "What are you getting at?" Deacon asked.

Aiden's expression tightened. "Prospera… Suletta… The Aerial… The Vanadis Institute, and now the Legion?" He paused, glancing down at the crowd below, their confused faces trying to make sense of it all. "I fear this war has been years in the making."

Oscar's eyes narrowed as he pointed accusingly at Aiden. "Stop being vague. Spit it out!" he snapped.

"I'm thinking!" Aiden shouted back, hands pulling at his hair in frustration. "All I'm saying is, while we were focused on Marko's long war, we didn't see the other one coming."

Both Deacon and Oscar's eyes widened in sudden understanding, but before they could respond, the door to their enclave creaked open, revealing Nika. Her piercing blue eyes burned with intensity, a fresh bandage tied around her forehead, still streaked with blood.

"It's true," she said, stepping forward. "Think about it. You told me about Suletta's years of training on Mercury. Prospera's been preparing for this for a long time."

Aiden nodded along, but his eyes widened in recognition as he snapped his fingers. "She was Ex-Vanadis Institute, wasn't she?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" Nika replied, her brow furrowing.

Oscar chimed in, nodding. "And Suletta's father… I can guess now how he probably died."

The plant shook violently, causing them all to grab for the railings. Deacon instinctively curled his arm protectively around Nika as the others scrambled for stability. Just as quickly as it had started, the tremor ended, leaving them all breathing hard and sweating from the shock.

Aiden gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles white as he gritted his teeth. He pulled himself to his feet. "We don't have time to be talking right now!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the heavy air. "Suletta and Miorine are still out there!" His words echoed in the hangar, and even those outside the room seemed to pause.

"Miorine…" Lilique murmured, her voice heavy with guilt.

Aaliyah frowned. "W-we hardly thought about her since…"

Till placed a comforting hand on Aaliyah's shoulder, wincing through his bandaged wound. He was still pushing through the pain, his body stiff but determined. "It's been a crazy day," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "We've just been busy trying to stay alive."

His gaze drifted toward the far corner of the hangar, where Ojelo sat, curled into a ball, his back to the group. Even from a distance, they could hear his quiet sobs.

"What do you intend to do?" Deacon snapped, his voice rising in frustration. That was when Cecilia bolted up the stairs, her steps frantic. "Just run out there after we've barely found you? Do you even know where they are?"

"Suletta is with her mother, and Miorine had business at Gund-ARM," Aiden replied, his voice tense.

Deacon's eyes widened in disbelief. "Sometimes I wonder just how much of a fucking idiot you are," he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Aiden, this plant is on its last legs. The Legion is sending out death squads—death squads, do you understand? These aren't just regular soldiers. The last of the Pilots are out there, killing everything in sight. It's a damn miracle we made it back to the hangar alive. With all the variables, the death, the injuries… we're lucky to be here."

Aiden nodded, understanding the weight of the situation. It was foolish—heading back into a genuine battlefield to find Suletta and Miorine and somehow get them both back to the hangar.

"Aiden," Oscar spoke slowly, his voice tinged with a sigh of exhaustion. "Brother, it's not just about the danger... We got here in the morning, and now it's late afternoon. Are you really confident that, with the Plant falling apart around us, you'll be able to grab both Miorine and Suletta? Maybe one, but not both."

"What are you trying to say?" Cecilia asked, rounding the corner, her voice edged with disbelief.

Oscar's humor had long since evaporated, beaten out of him by the brutal day. "I'm saying Suletta is with her mother, and we have many reasons to suspect Prospera as one of the masterminds behind all this. She's a nut, but she loves her daughter. I highly doubt anything bad will happen to Suletta. But Miorine... Aiden, you've got to make a choice—Miorine or Suletta. You can't save both."

The weight of his words fell hard on Aiden and the others. Their eyes widened in stunned silence. Oscar continued, momentarily glancing at Deacon before speaking again. "I ain't like Deke, Aiden. We've known each other since that IMC prison camp," he paused, offering a brief, weary smile before steeling himself. "I know your will's stronger than most, and I know Deacon won't be able to stop you from walking out that door. But... Deacon told us how much you love Suletta. I just—" His voice cracked, a sob welling up in his throat, his words faltering. "I-I just thought p-people around us were done dying." Tears spilled from his eyes, his hands covering his face as he tried to stifle the sobs that wouldn't stop.

Cecilia stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, patting his back gently. "I-I haven't been in a shootout in years," Oscar murmured through his tears. "I hate this. Fighting in a mobile suit is different... I don't know if it's because I'm behind a cockpit, but it feels slower, somehow less terrifying than this."

He faced Aiden, his voice soft. "I don't want you to die."

Aiden moved toward him, resting both hands on Oscar's shoulders. "Oscar, I'll be fine... But Suletta and Miorine are in danger. If we leave them behind, who knows what might happen to them." He paused, his eyes scanning the room.

"And where would you even start?" Nika asked, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "I don't want to think about it, but... there are so many factors. They could be lost, or they could've left in an escape pod."

"No," Aiden replied firmly. "They're here."

Silence filled the room for a moment.

"You sound awfully confident about that," Oscar remarked, eyeing Aiden skeptically.

Aiden's expression tightened as his gaze swept over the people around him and the destruction surrounding them. There was no time to waste, and his only regret was not acting sooner.

"I know they're still here... I can... I can feel it," he said, his voice steady but strained.

All eyes turned toward him.

"Prospera... she sent me something a few days ago," Aiden continued, his face tense, and the others exchanged puzzled looks as they waited for him to elaborate. "She showed me some old Vanadis Institute documents. Suletta... she isn't Ericht. She actually has a sister."

Nika's eyes widened. "W-what?" she stammered, looking around at the others. "What's this about Suletta's sister? How does this even—?"

"So, Prospera had another daughter before Suletta," Deacon muttered, the words hanging in the air.

Aiden nodded slowly. "I checked the dates. Ericht and this other girl had a two-to-three-year age difference. The timeline in the video and the rest of the evidence... it's definitely not the same person."

"Fucking liar," Oscar growled under his breath.

"But that wasn't all," Aiden pressed on. "Prospera showed me an old video—something I'm still trying to make sense of." He paused, placing a hand on his chest, locking eyes with Deacon. "The Druids... we're not exactly what we claim to be. The Vanadis Institute was deep in space, and Prospera—Elnora, that's her real name—along with the Institute's director, discovered something about her daughter's brainwaves. They were different from other humans'."

"What does that mean?" Cecilia asked, trying to summon her usual million-dollar smile, though the exhaustion and shock in the room made it fall flat.

"It means that Ericht..." Nika's voice faltered, her blue eyes meeting Aiden's. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that makes Ericht... different. Is she...?"

"Humanity has undergone a silent evolution in space," Aiden explained, and the weight of his words settled over the room. "Ericht was the first to be categorized, but she exhibited highly telekinetic and empathic abilities." He pointed to his temple. "The Druids and Newtypes... we're the same."

Oscar's eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. "And you told no one about this?" he demanded, his tone biting.

Aiden looked uneasy for a moment. "I told Miorine."

"You told Miorine this before me?" Deacon shouted, his voice filled with disbelief.

Aiden pointed at him, frustration evident in his tone. "You're always the one pushing me to find common ground with her!" he shot back.

"That's not the point, Aiden! This was important information that you—" Deacon began, but Aiden cut him off.

"You're being told now. I've had to live with it!" Aiden countered, jabbing his finger toward his own chest. "I've known for years that the Nails set me apart from everyone else, that I was given abilities I could barely comprehend. We called ourselves Druids for comfort, to tie it to folktales. But now there's a name for it… NewTypes."

"What does it mean?" Nika asked, her voice trailing off, unsure of what to make of this revelation.

Aiden shrugged. "Like I said, I don't fully understand it. But from what the Director said, humanity's exodus into space triggered a silent evolution. We're becoming a race that's learning to understand each other on a deeper level."

"To understand each other?" Deacon repeated, scratching his head in confusion. "I-I just don't get what you mean by that."

Aiden sighed heavily. "NewType ability isn't magic. It's linked to brainwaves—frequencies tuned in a way that creates strength, almost like spells. But somewhere along the line, we diverged. We became stronger, more sensitive in some areas, while weaker in others…" He trailed off, flexing his fingers absently. "Maybe we're just a few years behind in understanding ourselves," he concluded, his gaze shifting to the group around him. "Hundreds of young men were put on surgical gurneys, and out of a hundred thousand, only a handful—like me—came out different. It was violence that awakened us."

"So… it's all linked to violence?" Chu Chu's voice rang out, cutting through the tension.

"Chu Chu," Nika said softly, but Chu Chu brushed her off, stepping closer to the group.

"I just wanted to see what had everyone freaking out," she said, crossing her arms.

Aiden shot her a brief look but continued with a sigh. "The Director had a kind of prophecy."

"A prophecy?" Chu Chu scoffed, barely suppressing her laughter, ignoring the irritated stares aimed in her direction.

"Yes, a prophecy," Aiden repeated, gritting his teeth. "She believed that one day humanity would experience a NewType Revolution. A time when there will be more NewTypes than regular humans…"

"So, when your space-master race comes back to Earth and conquers us again, are we all just going to be slaves?" Chu Chu asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nika's eyes widened in shock. "Chu Chu, what the hell is wrong with you!" she shouted.

Chu Chu rolled her eyes, glaring at the wall, clearly done with the conversation.

Aiden, unphased, continued. "Chu Chu has a point, in a way. NewTypes, we are stronger than the average human," he paused, tapping his temple. "Our reaction times are faster, we feel emotions more deeply, and we're naturally empathetic, always seeking connection. That's the part that's confusing me after all this time."

"…What part?" Deacon asked.

Aiden sighed. "The Director said NewTypes have an instinctive desire to connect, to truly understand each other. She believed this resonance between two minds could lead to… absolute human understanding."

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

"Absolute human understanding," Cecilia echoed, still puzzled. "I-I just don't…"

"A universe without war," Nika whispered, cutting into Cecilia's sentence. Her gaze was locked on Aiden. She pressed forward. "That's what you've been talking about. Human understanding." She glanced around the room, at the others. "If humans learn to understand each other, then maybe we can…"

"It's a possibility," Aiden admitted. His words seemed to freeze the room. Everyone was left grappling with the weight of what he was saying. The idea that NewTypes could hold the key to a universe without war—an everlasting peace built on understanding, not destruction—was something entirely new, something hopeful.

Later, Deacon walked Aiden toward the front door. "I don't get why you're like this," Deacon said, his frustration evident.

Aiden kept moving, a few steps ahead, smiling lightly. "You know how I am," he said. "If Nika was in the same position, would you just sit by?"

Deacon's breath caught for a moment, but he shook his head. "It doesn't change how stupid this whole thing is," Deacon muttered, gesturing with both hands. "So what if you're a NewType or whatever… finding Suletta or Miorine is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack."

Aiden took a deep breath. "Deke, you're the smartest out of all of us, but are you really that blind?" He stopped mid-stride, turning to face Deacon. "The universe is changing. War is on the horizon, and now, a new race of human beings is emerging. There's something at play here, Deacon. I don't know if it's God, fate, or some kind of universal force, but there's a reason we're all here."

Deacon's eyes widened. "The vision…," he whispered.

Aiden nodded. "Yeah, Deacon. I think we may have stumbled onto it." He hesitated, then faced Deacon fully. "The vision—what I saw…" His voice trailed off as he averted his gaze. Deacon reached out, but Aiden was already too far to touch.

Their eyes locked again. "There's going to come a moment when my life will be on the line. A moment when Suletta's fate and mine will collide. I saw it…a dark future. One I hoped we'd avoided. But with Plant Quetta, Ericht, and the Legion here… I can't shake the feeling that it's all coming full circle."

Deacon said nothing, just nodding silently. Aiden let out an unsteady breath. "Deke, I've said it before, but you were right."

"Aiden, I—" Deacon started, but Aiden cut him off.

"This whole mess, it's probably our fault. We attracted Marko to Prospera Mercury. Who knows how many people have died because of that... And still, we answered Marko's call to war months ago."

Deacon sighed. "Aiden, you can't beat yourself up over it." He placed a hand on his chest, steadying himself. "This was the final battle against the IMC, on their own turf. You're the one who took down that old bastard who killed my sisters." His voice wavered with sorrow. "My sisters, my family... I think about all those who died, and yeah, I feel guilty. I feel guilty for surviving, for even being happy sometimes. But deep down, I know it wasn't my fault. I've come to terms with that."

He placed a hand on Aiden's shoulder. "Listen, Aidy," he said with a small smile, and Aiden smirked at the nickname—Deke was still here. "Don't get caught up in prophecies or whatever's messing with your head. If you really believe you can find Suletta and Miorine, then go."

Aiden nodded, though his smile faded into a more neutral expression. "…But I don't want you guys waiting for me. For us," he said, his voice sharp this time.

Deacon gave a firm nod. "Aiden, you know better than anyone how I handle tough decisions."

Aiden nodded at Deacon. "I know, but this is different. Listen, if everything goes to hell, I'll find my own way out. I've survived this long; something like this won't kill me—prophecy or vision or whatever."

Deacon gave a slow nod, patting Aiden's shoulder. Aiden broke into a sprint, but just before he reached the entrance, Deacon called out to him.

"Come back to us!" Deacon shouted.

Aiden stopped in his tracks, flashing his million-dollar smirk. "You know it!" he yelled back before vanishing through the door. Now alone, Deacon stood there, his remaining hand still raised in the air, watching Aiden charge headfirst into another warzone.

But it was Nika's hand that pulled him from his thoughts.

"Nika?" he asked.

She gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Oscar was poking around the plane we boarded. He found something… he thinks you should see."

Deacon hesitated, then nodded.

As they re-entered the passenger plane, an eerie emptiness hung in the air. It felt strange, being aboard something so large, yet so deserted. He glanced at the Earth House members, all donning space gear.

"How much longer until we're refueled?" Deacon asked.

Nika sighed. "Maybe an hour or two."

She led him to the lower sections of the plane, where cargo was typically stored. The sheer size of the lower deck took Deacon by surprise, but what truly caught his attention was the glow of light ahead, where Oscar stood, mesmerized.

"Oscar, what are you…?" Deacon's words trailed off as he neared, his eyes widening as they fixed on the sight before him.

"Mobile suits?" Deacon muttered in disbelief.

The suits had strange, beak-like heads, their ribbed, black exteriors sturdy and reinforced to support their heavily armored limbs. Each suit's shoulders bore two spiked forearms, and as Deacon's gaze swept across them, he noticed some equipped with shoulder-mounted weaponry. Every suit carried crude beam rifles, beam sabers, and shields, their design harsh and utilitarian, yet deadly.

"Nika, you know mechs. What are we working with here?" Deacon asked, though Nika had already flicked on the second set of lights. Their eyes widened as they took in the mechs in a new light. They weren't just stored—they were painted, ready for battle.

The suits gleamed in dark, dull monotone blues, streaked with lightning bolts and bronze accents. And…

Oscar ran his hand along the cold metal, moving toward the feet of one of the machines. His eyes locked on the words stenciled there. His breath quickened, chest rising and falling as he read aloud: "MS-14BR… Gelgoog… High Mobility R Type."

He froze for a moment, his fists clenching. "It's even painted in OUR FUCKING COLORS!" Oscar's voice boomed down the length of the cargo bay, echoing off the walls.

With a wild look in his eyes, he spun around and stomped toward Deacon. Nika instinctively stepped between them, her arms outstretched.

"Oscar, calm down!" Nika said, her voice sharp. "We can't afford to lose our heads right now. People are dying out there!"

But Oscar wasn't hearing it. He pointed a trembling finger at Deacon, his voice tinged with hysteria. "What's next, huh? More secrets? Prospera Mercury's behind all of this!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "She took Jack. She had to be involved. This whole thing—it's been in the works for years!"

The argument reverberated through the cargo bay, even reaching those outside. Cecilia, standing nearby, stared in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape.

"She stashed these suits for us!" Oscar went on, now pacing like a caged animal. "She's been pulling the strings, smuggling five mobile suits…"

"These aren't just any suits," Nika interrupted, her voice cutting through Oscar's rant. She had been closely examining one of the mechs, her eyes narrowing as she studied its design.

She crouched down, pointing at the intricate details. "Look at the thrusters on the legs. They're practically rocket engines. But check out the propellant lines feeding into the suit—they're designed for insane speed, but they can still maintain orbit," she said, whistling in appreciation as she stood back up. "And the beam weaponry, the saber, the shield… these are high-grade units."

"The beam rifle looks unstable," Deacon noted, gesturing toward the exposed wires leading into the backpack of the suit. He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Still, they'll suit us well enough if we need to fight our way out of here."

"Prospera stashed this away," Oscar affirmed, his voice laced with frustration.

Deacon nodded, a grim expression settling on his face. "I know. She's behind all of this," he muttered, feeling his arms slacken under the weight of it all. Nika moved closer, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We really can't just have good things, can we?" Deacon said, his voice low and weary.

"That's not true," Nika replied softly, leaning in to kiss him gently on the cheek. She smiled, a glimmer of warmth in her eyes. "You're my good thing."

Deacon sighed again, but he felt the emotion welling up at the edges of his eyes. Blinking back the tears, he turned his attention toward Oscar. "Trust me, Oscar. Prospera Mercury will face judgment, but I refuse to believe she'd have Jack killed like that," he said, his voice hardening. "There's a lot to say about her, but she rescued us. She may have been a terrible sponsor, but I need to hear it from her own lips. We will get the truth. I promise you that."

Oscar nodded slowly, the tension in his face softening at Deacon's words. Though uncertainty still lingered in his expression, he seemed to accept the course ahead.

"So, what now?" Oscar asked, his tone more subdued.

Deacon was about to respond when the sudden sound of frantic banging echoed from above. Lilique came rushing down toward them, breathless. "Guys!" she called out. "More people have arrived—like, a lot."

Oscar shot a questioning look at Deacon. "Survivors?" he guessed.

Deacon nodded, remembering the mass of ships scattered in space. "There are still plenty of escape pods and ships out there. It shouldn't be a problem," he said, though the situation was far from ideal.

"It's not just that…" Lilique's voice trailed off as she nervously twined her fingers together, avoiding their gaze.

"Who?" Deacon pressed, his brow furrowing.

Lilique sighed, finally meeting his eyes. "Grassley and Jeturk," she admitted, her voice carrying a heavy note of foreboding.

Aiden

"Where are you now?" Prospera Mercury's voice crackled through the phone.

Aiden Winters stood in a blast-torn street. The surrounding buildings were crumbled, scorched debris marking the aftermath of recent battles. Blast marks had created devastating potholes along the asphalt, scars of a war-torn future. Aiden, amid this wreckage, was oddly surprised that he still had quarters in his wallet.

"Talking to you on a payphone," he replied, his voice laced with irony. He could hear her chuckle on the other end.

"A little tourist gimmick," Prospera quipped.

Aiden let out a deep laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You should've sent Suletta to get me, right before the Legion showed up… Or was it your guys behind all those bullets?"

Prospera laughed lightly, dismissing the tension in his words. "Good to see your humor's still intact. Let's see how long that lasts… Meet me at the old science building, hanger floor. Miorine is heading that way under certain circumstances, and Suletta will be with me…"

Aiden's eyes widened, gripping the phone tighter as he heard the rhythmic tapping of Prospera's finger on the line.

"Prospera, wait!" he shouted, the desperation in his voice surprising even himself.

She paused, allowing a beat of silence to stretch between them.

"Don't do this… think about Suletta!" he pleaded, the only words he could muster in the face of her cold indifference.

Another beat of silence followed before her voice, smooth and deliberate, slipped through the line. "I've always liked you, Aiden Winters. In another life, you two could have been happy. I know it. In my new world, you and Suletta will find your happiness."

"N-new happiness?" Aiden stammered. "Wait, Prospera, wa—!"

But she was gone. The line went dead, her voice cut off like a guillotine.

For a moment, Aiden stood there, frozen, still holding the phone to his ear. Then, in a fit of rage, he slammed the receiver down, watching as it dangled limply from its cord like a severed limb. His fingers curled into tight fists, trembling with anger. That was it? That was her excuse for everything?

He turned his gaze toward the distance, spotting the looming entrance to the science building. Its university-like structure, all white bricks and neon lights, stood illuminated against the darkening sky. She was staging this like some kind of spectacle, wasn't she? What was this—a theatrical play where he was the hero confronting the antagonist?

Slamming the phone booth door shut, Aiden's walk quickly turned into a jog, then a full sprint. He ignited his jump pack, lashing out with the grapple hook and swinging through the war-torn streets, debris and smoke swirling around him.

He didn't care about the Legion anymore. He didn't care about Prospera's grand designs. He only cared about one thing—Suletta. Was it really such a crime to love her? He was going to that science building to get her, and they were leaving. This would be the end of Prospera Mercury's schemes, the end of her control over them.

Yet, deep down, in the quiet recesses of his soul, a whisper stirred—a part of him that was relieved Suletta would never return to Mercury. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, murmuring its truth in the dark corners of his mind.

It didn't take long for Aiden to reach the front door of the building. Up close, it seemed smaller, more rooted into the earth than the towering monolith he'd seen perched on artificial mountaintops from afar.

But someone was already waiting for him.

"You came alone?" Goday asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

Aiden glanced around. The older man already had both hands poised, aimed, ready. The streets were empty—just scraps of trash, smoldering cars, and plumes of smoke rising in the distance. He could feel a rhythmic thumping beneath the earth, an unsettling vibration that sent a chill up his spine.

There was no one else. The false sky above, which once shone with artificial light, had gone dark—either depowered or blown away in the chaos. Now, it revealed the deep, black abyss of space overhead, like a gaping void.

"Yeah, I did," Aiden replied, turning to face Goday directly. "Where is Suletta?"

Without another word, Goday led him into the building. Inside, the place was in ruins—papers strewn everywhere, furniture overturned, windows shattered. The lobby was a war zone in itself. They moved through the wreckage in silence, the tension palpable.

After a beat, Aiden's eyes narrowed. "So, how deep are you in this?" he asked, his voice laced with venom.

Goday said nothing, merely continuing toward a waiting elevator. Oddly enough, the facility was practically powerless, the entire plant knocked offline from the blasts. Yet, the elevator still worked. They both stepped inside, descending in silence. As soon as the doors opened, the sound of gunfire echoed down the hall.

Aiden didn't wait. He surged forward, his boots pounding against the floor, easily outpacing the older man. His heart slammed into his throat as his eyes locked on her—Suletta.

There she was, curled up on the floor, her crimson hair a wild mane around her. The same vibrant shade, like blood, that always made Aiden's heart skip a beat. She was dressed in her vacation clothes—sandals, a simple outfit. Her whole body trembled as she hugged her knees.

"Suletta!" Aiden shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

A Legion soldier stood over her, his firearm raised. The soldier's helmet was unmistakable—it was Jack Cooper's design, but twisted, painted black and blazing with malevolent red streaks. The wingman pistol gleamed in his grip as he cocked his wrist, preparing to pull the trigger with practiced ease. He was part of a death squad.

There were two of them.

"Suletta!" Aiden screamed, leaping forward without hesitation. He lashed out with his bionic leg, the sheer force of his kick sending the soldier and his gun flying across the room. The man crumpled to the ground, but the second soldier was already raising his assault rifle.

Aiden looked up, locking eyes with the remaining soldier—and for a moment, time slowed. His life flashed before his eyes, each moment like a fleeting whisper of everything he had fought for, everything he still had to lose.

Goday pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed sharply through the room, snapping Aiden's senses back into focus. Goday strode toward the wounded soldier, raising his hand.

"P-please..." The soldier's plea was cut short as Goday shot him, executing him without hesitation—the same way he would have executed Suletta.

Suletta trembled, her wide, tear-filled eyes darting around the floor as she yelped at the sight of the blood creeping into view. Aiden lurched toward her.

"Suletta, are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight with concern. She didn't respond but instead pulled him into a fierce hug, her body shaking against his. Aiden's arms instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close. As he tried to lift her to her feet, she collapsed back down to her knees.

"Suletta, baby, we need to go," Aiden urged, his voice growing more desperate.

But she shook her head frantically. "N-no..." she muttered, her grip on him tightening as she buried her face in his shoulder, her sobs wracking her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her voice barely coherent through the crying.

Aiden's chest tightened with anger and confusion. "What the hell did you do to her?" he shouted at Goday, still clutching Suletta protectively.

Goday remained calm, breaking his silence. "The girl is fine," he said, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. Aiden blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected response. "She's seen a lot today, but—"

The sound of approaching footsteps cut Goday off. Aiden held Suletta tighter, ready to move, but she resisted, her sobs intensifying.

"Suletta, baby, please…" Aiden's voice cracked, his own tears threatening to spill over. He would drag her if he had to.

Goday raised his gun again, but out of the corner of Aiden's eye, he noticed the man's hand slowly relax, lowering the weapon. Before Aiden could react, a familiar voice rang out from behind them.

"Did you locate Suletta and secure Winters?" asked Prospera Mercury, her tone sharp and commanding.

Suletta continued to cry, her hands trembling in Aiden's grasp. "A-Aiden... all those p-people... all t-those..."

"Suletta…" Aiden whispered, drawing out her name as he gently ran his fingers through her long, crimson hair. "We'll get through this," he said, his voice soft yet firm, as he cupped her tear-streaked face and looked into her haunted teal eyes.

Prospera rounded the corner, her presence casting a dark shadow over them. Aiden's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening, jaw slackening as he saw her—clad in a pilot suit, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Hey there, Winters," Conner said with a grin, a worn Militia assault rifle slung over his shoulder, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

Aiden's voice grew darker with each word. "W-what... are you doing here?"

"Easy now, just helping our benefactor. Unlike you, Aiden Winters, I don't forget where my true loyalties lie," Conner replied smoothly.

Aiden's eyes widened in shock before narrowing in anger. He flipped him off. "You bastard! You've been working as a double agent for Prospera this whole time!" he shouted.

Conner only cackled. "It's all right, Aiden. You see, even back at the academy, Prospera liked me. Let's just say next semester's going to be very interesting." He waved dismissively as he strolled past Goday and Prospera.

"Conner, you fucking snake," Aiden growled, his voice seething with fury.

Still holding tightly to Suletta, Aiden's grip instinctively tightened as Prospera approached. He was kneeling on the cold metal floor, and while Suletta's eyes were red from crying, her gaze followed her mother as she knelt down to her level.

"Suletta," Prospera's voice softened, almost like a mother teaching a life lesson, "you're going to have to be strong for me if you want to survive this."

Aiden clenched his teeth, his grip on Suletta firm. "Suletta, don't listen to her. This whole thing—everything that's happened—is her design," he warned.

Prospera chuckled. "Suletta, who are you going to believe—your loving mother, or your criminal of a boyfriend?" She laughed harder, the sound biting.

Aiden shot a desperate look back at Suletta, but her hand slipped from his grasp as she tried to reach for her mother. Aiden quickly caught her wrist, holding her back. "Suletta, she's not who you think she is. She's the one who separated Jack from us, who secretly recruited Conner. This is all her handiwork. I know you love her—I loved her too—but she's not the person you believe she is. Please, let's leave here, together."

"And where exactly would you go?" Prospera sneered.

Aiden's gaze hardened. "Far away. Beyond the frontier, where you'd never find us."

Prospera snickered, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Really? So you'd have Suletta betray her grand dream for you?"

Aiden's eyes widened, and he spoke before he thought. "If it means keeping your fucking controlling hands off her, then yeah!"

Suletta's eyes flickered between her mother and Aiden, torn between the two. Deep down, she knew her mother wasn't entirely right, but Aiden's plans for their future also felt like a prison. Did no one care about what she wanted? Her own dreams, her own freedom?

"I-I don't know," Suletta whispered, her voice trembling like a mouse.

Prospera's lips parted in surprise, but she chuckled softly. Aiden's eyes were wide. "Suletta," he said softly, his voice full of disbelief.

Suddenly, a violent tremor shook the building. Aiden grabbed Suletta, pulling her close to shield her. The rumbling grew louder, debris falling from the ceiling as the earth seemed to twist beneath them.

Prospera calmly looked up, watching the lights rattle above. "Goday, how long does the plant have?" she asked, her voice steady.

Goday checked his watch, his eyes widening. "Five minutes... ten, tops," he said.

Another shudder hit, and Prospera turned her sharp gaze toward the couple. "Let's see how much these stones I've laid in your path have sharpened you," she said, pausing briefly. "Suletta, if you're strong, you'll survive this. I know you can... and more importantly, he will need you."

Suletta's eyes widened in shock, but Prospera was already turning to leave. "Mom!" she cried, reaching out desperately. She tried to break free from Aiden's grip. "Aiden, let go of me!" she screamed, her voice full of rage she rarely let show.

"Suletta, stop! It's not safe!" Aiden held her tighter, shielding her as she struggled, pounding her fists against his chest.

"Aiden, Aiden, AIDEN!" she shouted, her voice breaking. Tears streamed down her face as the ceiling groaned above them, dust falling, the building swaying under the relentless shaking.

"Suletta, listen to me!" Aiden begged, holding her close.

Prospera, unfazed, called out. "Aiden, Suletta."

They turned toward her as the floor trembled. Prospera stood with one hand on her hip, Goday beside her. Conner was grinning, clearly enjoying the spectacle. He flicked his cigarette toward Aiden, sneering. "See ya, Winters."

Prospera continued. "Beneath this place, there are two mobile suits. The Aerial has been rebuilt and upgraded. Suletta, you can be reunited with your sister. And Aiden," she added with a smirk, "there's a model for you too. A relic from the original Gundam series, the RX. It's been heavily modified—spliced with the Reuse Psycho Device and Gundam Calibarn technology. Experimental, untested. We call it the RX-EX02 Gundam Caliburnus."

Aiden sneered. "So, I've just been your guinea pig this whole time," he accused.

Prospera chuckled, her voice dripping with condescension. "You've always known your place so well," she said, each word making him feel small, insignificant beneath her gaze.

Aiden winced but quickly shifted his attention back to Suletta. Yet, Prospera continued, her tone cold and detached. "Permit will have no effect on you. The Reuse Psycho Device controls the Gundam through phantom pain, not through the brain—relying on the memory of lost limbs. With the Calibarn system, you'll be on a whole different level. I do pity you both…in my new world, even you and Ericht will have your place."

"Ericht?" Aiden echoed, startled.

Before he could process it, the elevator door slammed shut with a loud, final thud. Another violent tremor rocked the structure, more intense this time. Suletta remained silent, no longer fighting, but the fear was evident in her eyes as they raced down the stairs, dodging falling debris and navigating through the chaos.

"A-Aiden, I-I c-can't breathe!" she gasped, her voice trembling.

Without hesitation, Aiden pulled her closer, gripping her tighter for reassurance. Suddenly, they started floating, weightless.

"Holy shit," Aiden muttered under his breath.

Suletta's wide eyes watched as her sandals slipped from her feet, drifting into the air. "The gravity in the plant…it's failing," she stammered.

"We need to get out of here, fast," Aiden said, urgency in his voice as he held onto her hand. They pushed through the fissures in the walls until they reached a massive door.

Aiden planted his feet on either side of the industrial door. It was heavy, reinforced, but he noticed a lever marked for emergencies if the plant lost power. With a hard pull, the hydraulic locks hissed, and the door groaned open. The room beyond was plunged into darkness, save for the flicker of firelight from the chaos above.

They moved cautiously, trying to get their bearings when another tremor shook the floor, sending a silver pot crashing to the ground.

Suletta screamed, her voice piercing the silence.

"Suletta!" Aiden shouted, rushing to her. She was curled up again, sobbing, her breaths ragged and panicked.

"Aidy…Aiden…oh my god!" she cried, trembling uncontrollably.

"Suletta, everything is going to be fine... but remember what I told you," Aiden sighed, his hands gently cupping her cheeks. "We need to get out of here, and your mom wasn't wrong about that thing."

His voice softened, and as the words left his lips, he saw Suletta's mouth tremble, a conflicted smile forming despite her fear. The ground beneath them rumbled violently. "Hurry," he urged.

They quickly donned their suits, moving in sync, hand in hand—both seeking strength in the other, afraid they'd fall without the other's support. Once they stepped outside, the weightlessness returned, and they floated for a moment as they clicked their helmets into place.

Amidst the flames, smoke, and crumbling ceiling, their mobile suits stood waiting, towering like sentinels. The Aerial looked sturdier, bulkier than before, its frame reinforced with more engines and armaments, a symbol of readiness. But Aiden's gaze drifted past the Aerial Rebuild to the suit opposite it. His grip instinctively tightened on the railing.

This mobile suit was taller than the Aerial, its white and blue frame bearing the unmistakable design of the RX series. The head, chest, and legs retained the iconic look, but the rest of the suit—especially the arms and sleek plating—felt far more futuristic, as though an antique Ford had been reimagined centuries later.

Both Aiden and Suletta kicked off the railing, hovering in the air against the backdrop of Earth, stars, and the wreckage of mechs strewn like forgotten toys. The silence between them lingered until Aiden broke it. "Do you think your mom and the others made it out of all that?" he asked quietly.

Suletta's expression darkened, her lips tightening. "Mom..."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up," Aiden quickly apologized, offering her a sheepish smile. He took a deep breath, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, Suletta, let's survive this and go on a real special date."

For a moment, a smile flickered across her face, brightening her sad expression, but it faded just as quickly. They drifted toward their respective mobile suits, the moment heavy with unspoken fears.

"Come on, Suletta, you can't stay like that," Aiden said with a soft chuckle, earning a warmer smile from her. It was brief, but it was there.

"Suletta, we can do this," he added with more confidence, his voice firm and reassuring. As he turned toward his cockpit, she finally spoke, her voice carrying a quiet resolve.

"I know we can," she affirmed, just before they entered their individual mechs.