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!

57. PHASE LVI: Hidden Deaths

Hey, peeps~! Here's the next chapter of The Phoenix Rising. I hope you guys are ready for what's coming here. ;3 This next chapter is going to be action-packed, and a bit of a revelation in regards to LOGOs will start to come about... ;3

- operation meteor: Thanks for the detailed review. :) Yeah, the TBC were a shout-out to the TBR. :) I also wanted to showcase the Redemption's capabilities, and the resistance will start to search out the LOGOs superweapon. They will eventually find it on the moon, but that's a spoiler for a different time. ;3

- 1800009trumbullps . net: Thanks. :3

- Greymon Leader Batx flashpoint: Thanks! :) I try my best. :3

- CT7567Rules: Well, things are about to get good. ;)

---

(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 Phoenix Gundam X 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, Kashi Tsukiyama, Hannah Amass, 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 shadowy mobile suit above them and below the ship, two brilliant blood red optics flaring)

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 Anchorage)

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 before panning away to show Fortress Anchorage)

Even if you're lost or trembling, raise the altitude (The base is shown shrouded by darkness, Nazara standing above the base as Allied forces start to gather outside its perimeter)

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 the SS United States in Orb, undergoing repairs while her crew is gathered before her, the USS Missouri on station to act as deterrence)

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 Phoenix Gundam X 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 LVI: Hidden Deaths

RESISTANCE SAFEHOUSE

JANUARY 3RD, 0074 CE

UNKNOWN LOCATION

Eisenhower was dead serious as she sat in the main office of the safehouse.

Already she had been viewing some of the fights that Terminal and the Archangel had been involved in during the First Genocide War, and it was clear to her that something was off about the boy, Kira Yamato.

Contrary to what she had seen in the prior fights, after he had gotten the Freedom Gundam, he had flat out refused to take another life. All his shots had been focused on disabling the enemy machines, which, from what she had seen in reports from the Atlantian Reich pilot corps, actually made him seem weaker in their eyes, making him a big target for them.

Eisenhower narrowed her eyes as she studied the reports.

'This kid... he's acting all too much like a messiah...' She then shook her head. 'No. Not a messiah. He's acting just like the messiah. He refuses to take a life because he thinks he's above others...? Or is there another reason for his nonlethal fighting style...? Or should I call it a 'merciful' fighting style?'

Already she was beginning to wonder what had caused the boy to suppress a much-needed instinct in warfare.

And her mind was already cataloging the disadvantages of such a fighting style, of which there were many. Sure it did provide some advantages, but the disadvantages far outweighed those.

The biggest one was being delayed against enemy aces. And although he could in theory keep them occupied for as long as possible, there was a much greater weakness: it meant that the ace's wingmen could attack the Eternal and Kira would be unable to do anything to defend them. It was a stark contrast to what she had been taught, and what she had experienced.

There was also the risk that if Kira was caught up with an ace who knew his fighting style, he could be ambushed by another ace and potentially killed or disabled somehow. That was part of her concern. He was a skilled pilot, yes, but he was also a fool for assuming he could force his fighting style on others, which was, according to reports they had intercepted, had been what he attempted to do to Andrew Waltfeld, the Desert Tiger.

"Ma'am?"

The President's eyes hardened as she relaxed. She didn't even need to look back to know who that was.

"Jacques."

The DNI nodded. "Yes. I assume you have something for me to do if you called me here," he noted.

"I do, actually," Eisenhower replied as she turned to face him. "Take a look at these."

"Ah. I remember those," Jacques admitted. "I sent them to you."

"Right. And so I assume you know of Kira Yamato, right?" Eisenhower asked.

"That's indeed the case," the DNI stated. "But what does that have to do with your request for me?"

"It's obvious that something happened to cause Kira to stop killing," the President explained. "He was doing exactly what a soldier would do during the first half of the war, prior to his being given the Freedom by Lacus Clyne." Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at the reports. "But after that, I noticed his fighting style did a complete 180. No longer was he fighting to take lives and only defending his friends." A scowl crossed her face. "He became something of a self-proclaimed messiah, refusing to even take a life even if it meant saving the lives of those he loves."

"Ah. And you want to know just what caused that change, don't you?" Jacques inquired.

"Yes. I want to know as much as I can about this kid so I can have a talk with him about this fighting style of his, which is his biggest weakness in more ways than one." Her scowl deepened. "I've seen the reports pilfered from the Atlantian High Command, as well as snippets from ZAFT's own officers who defected and joined us. He's being seen as weak, and with the loss of so many machines, those men he disables become angered and will no doubt try to take him out."

"A hypocritical fighting style if I do say so myself," Jacques admitted. "That just reeks of self-arrogance."

"In more ways than one," the President growled. "I need to discuss this with him at some point, and drive it home of how necessary it is to take out the enemy and not disable them."

"From what little I can gather from reading these reports, it seems like the boy's got too much kindness," Jacques deduced as he folded his arms. "I don't like to admit it, but if you attempt to drive this home, it may backfire."

"All the more reason I start learning about him as soon as possible," the resistance Amazon stated. "I've been in warfare a long time, and fought many different kinds of people. And while I don't like killing myself, I still do it because I know it needs to be done. Kira... He completely refuses to. And that could endanger the leaders of Terminal, not least of all Cagalli Yula Attha if she ever chooses to get back into the fighting in space."

"I noticed you haven't mentioned Lacus Clyne," her DNI noted.

"And for good reason," Eisenhower said. "She strikes me as more of an airhead than anything with her lofty ideals and refusal to accept that military force is necessary to keep the peace if anyone tries to disrupt said peace with terroristic attacks or attempts to cause another Genocide War."

"Sounds to me like you don't like her that much," the ex-CIA agent explained.

The President didn't really say anything more on that matter as she brought up more of the Atlantian combat reports.

"Take a look at these. Do any of these indicate those pilots are pleased with being spared?" she asked.

Jacques narrowed his eyes. "Definitely not," he noted. "They're all angry, furious at being denied a chance to carry out the Great Crusade."

"Exactly my point," the Amazon remarked. "If anything, this only points to his entire mindset being that of some kind of a messiah in some way. He may not be a real soldier like me, but he is still putting people in danger by refusing to kill."

From having chatted and experienced Eisenhower's full capabilities on the battlefield and seeing her own combat record, the DNI was well aware of how skilled Eisenhower was in regards to warfare. But it was her sheer determination to make things right in the world that had led her down the path of a soldier in the first place, using intelligence and deception to worm her way into the depths of the beast to gather information on how to defeat them.

Jacques ran a hand through his hair. "So, how do you plan to try and get through to the kid?"

"First off, I need to know everything I can about him," the President admitted. "And that will require some time, so... it'll take some effort to get the information and intelligence needed, given how he's a Coordinator and the Atlantian Reich no doubt purged his record. But... Terminal may have that, and given our alliance... I plan to take advantage of that to get his psychological profile."

"Something tells me it won't be received well," Jacques confessed.

"Maybe, but it's for the better in the long term," the Amazon stated. Her eyes were serious as she tented her fingers in front of her mouth. "This way I can get through to him where it counts."

"You seem awfully determined to change his mindset..." the DNI said a bit worriedly.

"The mindset of a messiah has no place on this kind of battlefield," Eisenhower said curtly. "Saving war criminals is assuring they will live to kill another day. So the boy has to lose that mindset and embrace the concept of killing war criminals." Her eyes hardened into shards of ice. "That is my endgame here, Jacques. War criminals like Djibril deserve only death. Mercy for them is foolish and naive."

Jacques grimaced at that. Reports from Terminal regarding the First Bloody Valentine War had shown how Kira had spared le Creuset, a former ZAFT official who had gone off the deep end, only to nearly have Lacus killed when a ship almost got a hit on the bridge of the Eternal. So he knew about the potential impact that could have left Terminal without one of their leaders.

So he knew what she was getting at with Kira.

"I understand where you're coming from, ma'am," he told her.

. . .

"And to be frank, the boy does need a wake up call," he admitted. "In more ways than one."

As he said this, the scene shifted from the safehouse over to Norfolk where the resistance had finally gotten full control of the base.

The commandant, having been removed by resistance forces, was now MIA, and therefore a new commandant had been selected, although thanks to Marie's source in Washington, D.C., the main selected by LOGOs had not been appointed, and instead, a resistance mole within the Atlantian Navy had been appointed after the new commandant died due to a heart attack - at least officially.

The FBI, under the guise of the Court of Owls, had finished the LOGOs-aligned man off with a small syringe and nothing but air.

While Atlantian doctors were baffled as to how a man in his mid-forties could drop dead all of a sudden, the puppet government had been offered an alternative of the resistance mole, and, desperate for experience in naval operations, they had agreed. So now the mole in question was reviewing the operations at Norfolk.

And to say he was displeased was an understatement.

He was downright furious.

The man in question was newly promoted Commandant Brian Morris, an Enhanced in his late fifties. While he would have normally been outed as an Enhanced and shoved into a concentration camp, his natural black hair and brown eyes made it easier for him to blend in, and he often worked out a lot, so his physical strength was comparable to a bodybuilder or boxer, which was his prior career before enlisting in the Navy to protect his sons from joining the Patriot Youth. His skills in the ring were matched by his skills in the political arena, especially when it came to base management. And he showed that as he rose through the ranks after joining the Navy.

A highly skilled organizer, the first thing he did after being appointed to handle Norfolk was distribute all the food the prior commandant had hoarded to the rank-and-file while destroying the nutrient paste in big bonfires. (There was no way, in his mind, that any soldiers or sailors were to eat that stuff!) Such an action earned him the ire of the High Command, but after seeing how the morale was boosted by decent food, the supplies of nutrient paste for the grunts were cut and regular food shipments were allowed in, giving many soldiers good meals in close to two months.

Brian was quick to play the High Command, pointing out that soldiers with nutrient deficiency were not effective soldiers in their so-called Great Crusade, and while many had been grumbling, the Lord High Admiral Richard West was quick to sign off on his plan. This led to many soldiers thanking him and praising him, especially the commandant for his clever thinking.

But in his mind, this was only one step closer to removing LOGOs from power.

As long as he kept the personnel in line, the High Command could do little to stop him from running the base as he saw fit.

And Brian was taking full advantage of that fact. The only thing that was worrisome to him was a surprise arrival from the newly promoted Lord High Admiral, Richard West. In Brian's eyes, such a title was grotesque and not very fitting for an admiral. In fact, it reminded him all too much of a title of nobility, which was what it really was. And that was something that had to be addressed in the future.

But in the present, Brian was wary for any surprise visits. His eyes were hard as he studied the road just outside the base's boundaries. He held in his hands a pair of binoculars, and they were currently scanning for any sort of limousine or vehicle used by high-ranking Atlantian naval personnel. He was right to be cautious, as he could pick out a single black limousine heading their way. He knew from reading up on the new Lord High Admiral that he tended to travel via limo, seeing it as a means to lord it over the commoners by saying that he was above them. He also despised mingling with the commoners, which made him a real jerk to deal with.

He finally lowered the binoculars and turned to face his second-in-command, a recent promotion from a mere filing clerk. The man had astounding organizational and interpersonal skills, which were left to languish because his parents had not been well-connected in the Atlantian hierarchy. Instead, he had been saddled with the dullest job possible, and only now were his talents beginning to shine. Owen von Hapsburg was, as befitting the resistance's objective for uniting the world under the banner of the United Nations once more, descended from the ancient House of Hapsburg, coming from the European nobility in what was what Austro-Hungary during the early twentieth century AD. Unlike his more European ancestors, Owen was half-Asian, and half European, a mix that left him with piercing blue eyes, but black hair from his Japanese mother. He was a Natural, but it was his skills for uniting people that made him so invaluable to Brian and the resistance.

"You get the message?" he asked.

Owen nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "The communications officers will be sending it out within the next hour."

"Good. The sooner they get wind of this, the better," Brian admitted. His eyes hardened as he raised the binoculars again and studied the limousine. The windows, in a surprising twist, were not tinted so he could clearly see the Lord High Admiral sitting in the back seat, sipping the finest wine possible. Just the way he was lording it was enough to make him sick to his stomach. "If he's coming here, he no doubt wants to know what happened to the former commandant."

"Think we should tell him where you rebels took him?" the other man asked.

The Enhanced scowled as he lowered the binoculars. "And why would we do that?" he growled lowly.

Owen held up his hands. "Just relax, sir. There's a reason for that." He lowered his hands and cleared his throat. "If what you say is true, and the commandant is of value to them, then they'd no doubt strike to get him back. And that could put the resistance safe house at risk, no?"

Brian paused, his eyes becoming thoughtful as he pursed his lips. "You may have a point..." he admitted. "Go on..."

"Well..." Owen shifted a bit nervously. "What if... what if we were to claim he was compromised?"

"Hm?" Brian arched an eyebrow. "And what good would that do?"

"Simply put, it would mean that they wouldn't send their best units to attack the safehouse," Owen told him. "If anything, it would mean the Lord High Admiral would want to take out the compromised commandant himself." He gulped a bit. "The man strikes me as something of a showoff and he'd be willing to try and prove himself by going after the resistance safehouse... and the leader herself."

Brian was surprised at his plan. He knew from reading up on the resistance commander that she was no slouch when it came to fighting. She had been in the Marines for ten years before shifting gears to hunting down anti-Governmental forces that had sprung up in the CE 50s and 60s. She was no dumb brute, either. She was a highly skilled strategist and tactician that no one could match. If anything, maybe she could take down the new Lord High Admiral and disrupt things at the top of the command chain.

However, he was also worried that she could die in the fighting. After all, despite her skills and abilities, she was still only human, and a woman at that.

Richard West was a good-sized man. But if the rumors were to be believed, then the 'President' was an absolute Amazon in build. But he still had to see it to believe it for himself.

"So you're hoping that the resistance commander can take down Richard?" he asked.

"Honestly, I'm not sure who would win in a straight up fight between those two," Owen admitted. "But it stands to assume, if the rumors are true, that she's got contingencies in place for such an eventuality."

"Well..." Brian watched as the limo stopped at the gates and the admiral's ID was shown to the guards. "We'll have to see how this plays out..."

. . .

To newly promoted Lord High Admiral Richard West, things were not going according to plan.

With the homeland in civil war and strife raging everywhere, he had to be extra careful about who he saw as his allies. Many of his own subordinates had already risen up in arms against him, and many were decrying the nobility that reigned supreme. It also didn't help matters much that this grassroots resistance force had sprung up, completely armed and ready to fight. But the real surprising fact was that five major companies had defected from LOGOs and aligned themselves with the rebellion, including Atlas Corps, the very same one that had allowed for the creation of the Atlas Firewall. But now that the firewall was down, there was nothing that could be done to manipulate the people's minds.

As a man in his fifties to sixties, he was someone who was competent and loyal to the current regime. It was unfortunate that the late William Sutherland had to keep him on the sidelines, but now he was free to showcase his talents and zeal to the cause. His salt and pepper hair was closely cropped, and he had a decent beard/mustache combo growing in as of recently. His eyes were a hard blue color, and he was clearly eager to show to Lord Djibril that he was not about to let a compromised base hold him back. Broad and well-built, he was also a known fencer, always carrying a rapier or sword on his person, as he felt firearms were the weapons of cowards. Oh sure he still carried a service pistol with him, but he never used it, as he had a distaste for those who used them.

His uniform was immaculate as he glanced over himself to make sure nothing was out of place.

The driver continued on, the limo traveling another fifteen minutes before he saw the command center of the base come into view.

Already he could see the new commandant standing at rigid attention, his eyes locked onto the Lord High Admiral's.

Beside him stood his newly promoted second-in-command. He never understood why this man had chosen to elevate those who were not well-connected, but he was not about to counter his choice of officers if this man could prove himself loyal to the cause.

"Lord High Admiral," the commandant said with a crisp salute. "It is an honor to host you at my humble base."

The admiral just nodded once. "At ease, soldier."

The commandant dropped his salute.

"I understand that your predecessor suffered from a heart attack," West remarked.

"Yes. It was a sad thing indeed. But what can one do? He was no doubt under immense pressure from your subordinates," the commandant (one Brian Morris, his brain supplied) replied.

"I can see how that would be the cause then," West stated. "And that brings me to my next topic."

"If you refer to the prior commandant, Jarred Ramius, then I am well aware of his secret leanings," Brian smoothly lied, although to West it sounded like the truth.

"Oh?" West arched an eyebrow. "Care to explain then, Commandant Morris?" he asked, his tone of voice making Owen shudder.

For his part, Brian was far from deterred. In fact, he was as calm as a cucumber. He merely nodded. "As you wish, my lord." He straightened his shoulders. "We have taken the liberty of going through Commandant Ramius's computer files and we have discovered a stash of information pertaining to Atlantian formations. We can only assume, rightly so, that he was either compromised as a spy for this resistance... or for those freaks in orbit."

To say that was the biggest lie he had ever told was understating the mission. For Brian, downloading those files and then planting false handler information was the key here. If Richard West saw them, then he would easily believe that the former commandant was indeed compromised, and would seek him out. To further add realism to the image that he was intending to project, the man in charge of modifying Ramius's laptop had inserted the coordinates to the safehouse, knowing that West would go for the bait and seek to destroy his compromised subordinate.

And in doing so, would want to finish the man himself.

Admiral West pursed his lips as he considered this. "How in the name of Azrael was he able to hide this from us this whole time?" he wondered. "I thought he was firmly on our side..."

"Trust me, my lord," Brian said with a hint of firmness. "He was indeed compromised."

"Show me then," the admiral demanded.

Brian turned to look at his second-in-command and nodded. "Take the admiral to the office and show him the data we have uncovered."

"Yes, sir," Owen said with a crisp salute. As Admiral West was led off, Brian took the time to slip one hand into his uniform pocket and pull out his smartphone. He was quick to dial the number that was listed at the top.

He ducked behind a nearby truck and put the phone to his ear.

The encryption app went to work and within seconds, he heard the familiar dial tone. Then... he heard her pick up the phone.

"Commandant Morris?" Her voice was filled with both surprise and suspicion. "Why have you called me during an important meeting?"

"Madame President," Brian said. "I called because I have some information to relay to you."

"And what is this information?" Eisenhower asked.

"We're going to be sending Lord High Admiral Richard West your way later today," Brian told her.

"Why would you do that?!" the President demanded suddenly. "Are you trying to compromise everything we've done?!"

"That's hardly the case," the commandant admitted. "The real goal here is to try and have the admiral killed."

"And you're thinking that I'd be suited for that task then?" she mused.

"Yes, given your capabilities and experience," Brian stated. "But hopefully it will also try and sway others on the Atlantian side to our cause."

"Gee, I can only wonder how," Eisenhower drawled.

Brian sighed. "I know it's a desperate gamble, but if you consider it from my perspective, by taking out the head..."

"You limit the body," she finished.

"Yes," the commandant said as he glanced back at the command center where Admiral West was being shown the false data, no doubt. "We planted false files and spy information to convince him that the former commandant was compromised. That will hopefully inspire him to go to the safehouse to finish him off... and it may even startle Mr. Ramius out of his brainwashing further."

The President was silent as she considered this. He could hear her tapping her finger on the desk over the phone, and then she placed it down. He could only guess as to what was running through her keen mind as she pondered her next course of action. Finally, she came on the phone once again. "I will admit, it is a risk. But there is a lot of good that will come out of this, especially as the High Command won't be able to act on their own without Djibril's intervention," she mused. "I'll be ready for when he comes."

"Thank you, ma'am," Brian said with a smile.

"Just be careful. You really have to play it up for this to work," she reminded him.

Brian nodded. "I will!"

"Good. I'll be waiting for him." With that, Eisenhower hung up and Brian leaned against the truck, the nervousness flowing out of him in waves. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief.

'Now... it all comes down to her...' he thought. 'God... please make sure she wins this one...'

. . .

JUDGMENT STATION

L4 DEBRIS FIELD

EARTH ORBIT

"Crap... I never thought we'd lose them," Spray muttered as he leaned back against the wall of the briefing room.

"We're all a bit shocked, actually," one of the other pilots snorted. "It's not that easy to evade those guys these days."

"Well, the dark paint scheme came in handy for the most part," a third pilot responded.

Spray had to admit that it was a good point. "That may be, but we've still got to be careful," he cautioned. "We can't let our guard down, even if we are at base here."

The other pilots admitted that he did have a point. With the fact that the Atlantian Reich was stepping up their atrocious actions, there was no way of knowing if, or more likely when, the resistance base would be discovered. To many in the resistance leadership, or more specifically, a select group of people who had been elected to represent the sectors of the countries that formerly made up the Atlantian Reich, there was much concern about having the main resistance base be on Earth where it could be destroyed. So there was a movement in the leadership to petition for the main base to be reassigned to Judgment Station. However, President Eisenhower flat out refused, stating that to stay on Earth was a defiance of LOGOs' whims, to show that sanity would not be overcome by ignorance and superstition.

Even though the resistance Congress had a good point, there was just no way the entire movement could get up to L4 without being shot down or killed. And as it stood, with the Anchorage mass driver still in Atlantian hands, it was impossible to get them up into space. So all they could do was continue to fight and hold the line, and perhaps turn the tide down on the ground.

"Sir, what do you think it will take to end Nazism once and for all?" a female voice asked.

Spray perked up and turned to face the speaker, one of the GM pilots. Her blue eyes were filled with concern and worry, and he could see that she was desperate for an answer. He sighed heavily.

"Honestly, Jazz, what I think it will take is a fierce battle against this ideology... One where all that ideology is right out in the open, and one that will shatter their stupid misconceptions once and for all. One where we all unite as one race, not an Aryan race over slave races," Spray admitted. "But that's just fanciful thinking on my part."

Jasmine 'Jazz' Fenton looked down, some of her reddish orange hair falling in front of her eyes. "Oh... So we're not going to defeat it anytime soon then?" she asked.

"I said I think it will take a fierce battle," Spray clarified. "But... who knows? I mean, Djibril and Durandal... both are men with visions for the world that we don't want, whatever they are." He then paused, then shook his head. "No, scratch that. We know what Djibril's vision is for our world. Durandal's... is a lot more cloudy. We have an idea of what he wants. But the full thing eludes us for the moment."

Jazz perked up. "So... what you're saying then is that we may have a chance?"

"Maybe," Spray told her. "But it's going to be a long battle. I mean... We've come so far and done so much to shatter their regime... but they still cling to those beliefs as if it were their very lives. So, that's why I think it'll take a massive battle against those ideologies to defeat them once and for all, along with disproving their racial theories in real-time combat."

"Sounds to me then that it will also involve Newtypes, right?" Jazz theorized.

"I'm hoping that the Newtypes on our side do use their powers to project the truth to those closed minds," Spray admitted.

The GM pilot nodded. "All right. I guess I should keep hoping then."

"Hoping is one thing. Working to make that hope real... is another matter altogether," the ace replied.

Jazz gave a small smile, even though she still had some doubts about their victory over the archaic ideals of Nazism.

For now, all Spray could do was hope for the best down on the ground.

. . .

RESISTANCE SAFEHOUSE

UNKNOWN LOCATION

The last thing Eisenhower was expecting at six in the morning was to hear the proximity alarms triggered.

Her eyes snapped open as instinct honed over years of training and combat spurred her into action. She was already half awake by the time she got to her feet and fully awake by the time she was in motion. Her hands flew to her disheveled hair and began to quickly tie it back in her signature braid deftly and swiftly as she made her way to the closet.

With her braid finally tied back, she quickly got dressed and was grabbing her machine gun as she heard the door slide open. "Ma'am, we got trouble!" one of the guards exclaimed as he poked his head in.

"What is it?" she asked sharply. All vestiges of sleep had been driven from her brain by this point, and already she was calculating possible battle plans.

"We've gotten word from Norfolk," the guard replied. "The head of Atlantian High Command is coming this way with a unit from the Army. They intend to capture Commandant Ramius and execute him for being compromised."

Eisenhower's eyes went wide as she glanced to him. "Wait, repeat that."

The man nodded. "The head of Atlantian High Command is coming this way with a unit from the Army, intending on capturing and executing Commandant Ramius for being compromised," he repeated.

The resistance commander frowned as she tented her fingers in front of her mouth. 'So that's their game, is it?' she thought. 'They've obviously either caved... or they're purposely sending him here for a reason...'

Already she was considering the multiple scenarios, but the most obvious was that the new commandant had sent the admiral their way for a reason. Whatever that reason was, she could get to the bottom of later. Right now, it was up to her to defend Ramius and take down the admiral himself. No doubt he would be coming to fight... and she had to be ready.

Her eyes narrowed as she lowered her hands. "All right. We'll be ready for this." She turned and followed the guard out of her bedroom to the main living room where the rest of the security team had gathered. She was impressed by the guard's initiative to get the necessary forces together for this emergency briefing. She shifted her gaze to him and stood off to the side, letting him take the floor.

The man was a bit taken aback by the gesture, but then he nodded and stepped forward.

"Everyone, we've got a new mission," he began. His eyes hardened as he cleared his throat.

"This mission is unlike what we had been expecting when we were chosen to be on station here. Many of us assumed we'd be safe, out of the way and out of sight while we worked to deprogram the former commandant of Norfolk. However, it's now clear to us that someone down there has either caved and spilled the beans about our movement's involvement... or they sent the admiral of High Command this way for us to eliminate," he continued. "We're not sure as to what the reason is, but one thing is clear: we cannot let them get their hands on the former commandant so they can kill him. If we can turn someone of his caliber away from LOGOs... then we can do the same for others.

"Our goal is to show that we can break decades of brainwashing. So far our efforts have yielded some promising results, but it's not over yet. We have to make sure that the admiral, a certain Richard West, is unable to even get his claws back into Ramius. So... we have to fight with everything we've got and then some." The guard sighed. "I'm not going to mince words and say we have a chance. Because to be frank, against a unit from the Army, while we can hold out, if they bring in mobile suits, even our tanks will be wiped out. Everyone, and everything here, will be destroyed in an instant. So we have to be prepared for that."

Eisenhower pursed her lips as she folded her arms. "Any possible ideas as to what we're dealing with?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, ma'am, we have no ideas at the moment," the guard admitted. "But that doesn't mean we won't try to find out."

"How about time? How much time do we have?" another woman asked.

"That... we've got a good idea on," the guard replied. Then his eyes hardened. "And it's not much."

"How long then?" another man wondered.

"Less than two hours tops," the guard remarked, his tone grim. "We've got less than two hours to come up with a viable battle plan, and assess what resources the enemy is bringing to the table here."

"Then let's get to it," Eisenhower ordered. "I need to know if I'm to come up with the plan."

The guard nodded. "Yes, ma'am!"

Of course, it was not going to be easy. The time was limited, so they had to act fast.

Some of the perimeter guards had three drones at their disposal, mostly just civilian model drones, but they were still useful regardless. It didn't take them long to deploy them, and as one of them flew over the main road leading to the dirt road heading to the safehouse, the guard manning it was quick to alert her superior. "Sir, we got them on the main road!" she called.

The commander ran over, his eyes hardening as he stared at the line of vehicles as they began to turn off onto the dirt road.

"Well, good news is they don't have any mobile suits," he mused. "That's about the only saving grace we got here."

Eisenhower's eyes narrowed. "Only? I'm not too sure about that..." she muttered.

. . .

"Right. We're not too sure if they will bring in mobile suits," the guard's voice admitted as it showed the limousine approaching the safehouse.

Within it, Lord High Admiral Richard West narrowed his eyes.

'That spy... he will be flayed alive for this...' he thought.

. . .

"Got it," someone replied. "So, the plan then?"

The chief guard nodded. "Right. So here's the plan..."

. . .

As he was outlining the plan, back at Norfolk, Brian ran a hand through his hair as he leaned back, unsure if things were going to go their way.

The unit that had been hurriedly scrambled from a nearby army base was made up of veterans, with a fair number of green recruits. He was confident in the resistance's combat training, and to be fair, many of those female soldiers who had been discharged were hardened combat veterans. It also didn't help much that at least fifty percent of the special operations forces had women amongst them, as well. So that gave the resistance a huge advantage.

It was the diehards who had taken to the field that were the most worrisome.

He knew a number had served in special operations, too, but even so, they were not as mentally flexible or sane as those who had been discharged. His gaze fixed back at the safehouse's location, and his eyes widened as he saw smoke starting to curl skyward.

"Shit...!" he muttered.

The battle had begun.

And he wasn't even allowed to witness it.

All he could do was pray at this point.

Pray for her success...

and the death of the admiral.

. . .

RESISTANCE SAFEHOUSE

UNKNOWN LOCATION

ONE HOUR LATER

Start BREAK TOGETHER - Black Clover: Sword of the Wizard King OST - by Kankaku Piero

Around the safehouse, battle was raging.

The two tanks that had been placed in front of the entryway were still standing strong, hidden behind what cover had been thrown up from the artillery and other tanks brought to the fight. The snipers and gunners positioned around the perimeter were mowing down the infantry as they tried to surge forward, only to be brought to their knees by the sheer firepower the rebels had at their disposal. But in spite of it all, the Lord High Admiral managed to get past the defenses, running in with his sword in one hand, and his gun in the other.

The gates were blasted open, and with the tanks busy, he was able to get inside and make his way towards the entrance to the safehouse. All around it, heavy-duty sprinkler systems were activated, literally soaking the structure which was heavily reinforced to keep the fire at bay as it raged around the area.

Only to be met by another warrior of the rebels. But not just any warrior.

He was fighting the very leader of the resistance herself.

The Lord High Admiral grunted as he shoved aside the woman's bayonet with his sword before leaping to the side and lunging forward, intent on taking her down.

His eyes hardened as she leapt to the side with a grace belying years of combat experience and intense physical training. Her eyes were solid shards of ice, and she had no emotion on her face as she lashed out with her bayonet in a slash, aiming to take out his left shoulder.

He dodged it, but the blade did nick his flesh, drawing a bit of blood to the surface. He glanced at it before he looked to his opponent, half expecting her to take the bayonet and lick it like a savage. Instead, she merely looked at it and gave a flick of the blade, dismissing the fluid on it.

Lord High Admiral Richard West studied her critically.

The way she was fighting... it was not crazed or emotional like a woman. It was pragmatic, blunt, and efficient. Well planned, too, if her recent glancing blow was any indication. She was definitely a lot faster than a normal person, and she was very muscular for a woman. Way more so than he thought. But none of it looked like it had been done via drugs or biochemical injections. It was all natural. And her eyes... They were hard, quick, intelligent, and held within them a smoldering inferno that belonged solely to a male soldier.

This woman... she was not a woman as he had been shown.

She was an insurgent.

"So... you're not the woman I've been expecting," he mused. "You're something... different..."

"What of it?" the woman said casually. "You expected me to be some emotional bitch who went all crazy when it comes to bloodlust?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then you don't know anything about the real world."

She didn't even hesitate as she lunged forward, her blade whipping out in another slash, and the High Admiral had to block with his sword again, and he actually gasped as he was pushed back by her immense strength. He had to brace his legs and push harder, but she remained standing where she was, one foot planted forward and the other placed back to keep her in place.

Then she slowly began to step forward, making West step back. She grunted as she shoved harder, her muscles straining visibly beneath her coat. The High Admiral strained, pushing his own muscles to the limit, but there was no budging her. She was firm like a rock.

The insurgent brought her full strength to bear as she suddenly twisted, giving a roar as she spun, twisting his saber away from her bayonet and lashing out in a roundhouse kick at the exact same time. Richard was forced to block with his forearm and he went staggering back from the force of the blow. He glanced at his forearm for a moment before he pulled back his sleeve, staring in shock at the bruise starting to form on his skin. The woman planted her left foot down and then without so much as a sound she lunged, her bayonet drawn back. He brought his sword up to block her downward slash, and he turned his body to the right, twisting the blade away from him and delivering a punch that wound have knocked a normal woman flat on her back, blood coming from her nose. But instead, the woman he was fighting just shrugged, taking the hit to one of her broad shoulders, and returned the favor with a brutal haymaker that sent one of his teeth flying.

He broke away from her and landed a few feet away, his hand flying for his face to ascertain the damage.

He could feel the gap in between his teeth and he realized there was blood coming from his missing tooth. He turned and spat out a glob of it before he bared his teeth at her in anger. "You...!" he growled. "You'll pay for that!"

"Not really!" the woman spat. "I'm just returning the favor your kind did to so many others!"

With that, she charged at him, placing her machine gun on her back. Her fists were clenched as she drew in close.

Richard was quick to try and swing his saber, but the woman swiftly dodged it and lashed out in a double punch that collided with his gut. He felt the full force of the blows, and he swore his stomach was being crushed by the sheer power behind them. This woman... she was strong! He had to keep from doubling over and vomiting up his lunch. Instead, he swallowed back the bile as it surged up his throat, only to grimace a short while later. She had pulled back by then, and she was ready to attack again as he shook his head. Richard's eyes narrowed as he charged in, saber held back for a thrust that would hit her in the heart.

The insurgent's eyes narrowed before she leaned to the left, the blade grazing her coat and cutting a gash in her shoulder. But she wasn't even flinching. She whipped her bayonet up and clashed her sword with that of the Lord High Admiral. He shifted his stance, blocking the blade, but even then it was taking more effort. She gritted her teeth before she shifted her grip on her rifle and twisted her body, lashing out with her left foot in a crescent kick that dislodged his grip on his saber. But the man was not about to give up. He grabbed the hilt with his other hand and thrust the blade forward once more, but she retaliated with a well-placed forearm block that gave her a small scratch across the skin.

She grunted as she suddenly pivoted, her hand lashing out in a well-placed karate chop that nailed his wrist and made him grit his teeth as he clutched his sword tighter, despite her hit. He retreated a slight distance away, the fires burning around the two combatants as the fighting raged outside the safehouse's perimeters.

He glared at her as she lunged forward, her bayonet coming up in a flash of steel, forcing him to block with his rapier. He grunted as he twisted his arm, trying to disarm her of her own weapon. But much to his disbelief, she kept a firm grip on it, far too tightly for any woman or man to be capable of. He wondered if she had been taking drugs, but the more he fought her, the more he realized just how wrong he was.

She had not taken any form of drugs.

Her eyes were clear, her movements purposeful, and her mind was focused. Just the way she moved was an indicator that she was free from the effects pf any form of drugs. The only thing that could make sense, he deduced with horror, was that she had put herself through an intense training regiment that no one else could do. Just her muscular build was enough to prove that. And when coupled with her firm grip, the results spoke for themselves.

. . .

Eisenhower's eyes were hard as she spun around, her bayonet's blade flashing in the light of the fires as he brought up his rapier to block another strike.

The Lord High Admiral, she recalled from the briefing, was a skilled warrior. That much was clear. But she was a soldier, not a mere weekend warrior like he was.

And therefore she was much more capable a combatant.

"You... You... What are you?" the man panted, his eyes narrowed.

"Me? I'm just a soldier who wants to make a difference," she muttered.

"That doesn't explain what you are!" the Lord High Admiral spat. "No human should have such monstrous strength!"

"Like I said. I'm merely a soldier who wants to make a difference!" Eisenhower countered. "You thought I was weak? All because I'm a woman? Well, hate to break it to you, but you're wrong on so many counts!" She gave another shove of her bayonet, the blade creating sparks as she shifted her stance, moving the blade's edge along her opponent's rapier, shoving it to the side and delivering a brutal haymaker to his cheek and sending him staggering back. She returned to a front stance and pushed off the ground, leaving imprints of her boots behind. She gripped her heavy machine gun and swung it with all her might, bringing the bayonet down in a brutal downward slash.

The Lord High Admiral grunted as he leapt to the side, his arm just barely escaping getting cleaved off at the elbow. As it was, blood flew from the wound and splattered the ground, making him stare in shock before anger crossed his face. A loud roar escaped him as he lunged, but the President was far from scared. If anything, she was more driven to stand her ground. She placed her feet firmly in place as she landed, gripping her gun in both hands like a sword.

"I'm not some delicate little wallflower who can't even fight!" she hissed. "I've put everything I had into training just for this! And now... you're going to witness just what we can do when we work together!"

West was startled by her declaration as she lunged forward, a loud battle cry erupting from deep within her chest. She drew back her gun/sword and swung it with enough force to cut through a human torso. West's eyes went wide as he rolled to the side, his uniform getting clipped by the tip of her sword. She landed and spun around, running after him, her muscular legs pounding the ground as she chased him. The Lord High Admiral's eyes narrowed as he spun around to intercept her blow as she swung her sword once more. The bayonet clanged with his rapier, and he pushed into the blow. But Eisenhower was not about to back down. She placed both feet on the ground and, holding her gun/sword in one hand, her other hand flew for the pistol on her left leg and she pulled it out of its holster, swinging it up and aiming it right for West's chest. The man was quick to slash with his rapier at her gun arm in an attempt to counter her aiming for his heart. His blade flashed across her arm, but she didn't drop the gun, only instead pulling back and glancing at the gash across her sleeve, blood oozing from it.

Eisenhower's eyes flicked up to his face and she scowled. "Not a bad hit..." she muttered. "But not good enough!"

She lunged forward once more, her pistol barking as she whipped it up and fired off a few shots. The man whirled around as he dodged the bullets with uncanny grace. The rebel Amazon didn't even hesitate to swing her bayonet right for his chest, but he blocked with his rapier. "GRAH!" he grunted. "You... Why do you fight, woman?!" he growled. "Why do you dare to defy the Lord Azrael?! WHY?! WHAT DO YOU FIGHT FOR, WHORE!?"

"Why do I fight...?" Eisenhower's eyes were hidden in shadow as she bowed her head as he pushed his sword down, but she didn't bend the knee. She braced herself as she glanced up, and within her mind's eye, she could see the bluish-green seed-like jewel as it fell towards the surface of water. But unlike the rest of the SEED users, hers was falling... taking the shape of a missile as it fell towards a marked target. The missile slammed into the targeted location, a greenish-blue explosion erupting from it, a red ring of fire spreading outwards. Her eyes snapped open, revealing the pupils shrunken and her irises bigger, holding a glazed look in them. "Why I fight is simple: to bring back trust in the United States and her allies!" the Amazon spat.

Her eyes hardened as she shifted her stance, aiming her pistol and firing off a shot right for his eye, but the man's position caused her to miss and instead graze his ear. The bullet's path cut though the fleshy appendage, and he cried out in pain as his free hand flew for his right ear. Blood oozed between his fingers as he gripped at it. "What you fail to realize is this: that our lives and experiences are a harbinger of change! That change is what we make of it!" Eisenhower snarled. She aimed her gun and fired off the last few rounds before holstering it and gripping her machine gun in both hands like a sword. "Change can be good or bad, but it's how we react as a society that makes it such!"

"What would you know about change?!" West snapped. His eyes narrowed as he whipped up his rapier, swinging it and blocking one pistol shot before ducking under the others. He waited for a few seconds before he lunged, pushing off the ground as he thrust his sword out in front of him. Eisenhower retaliated by blocking with her machine gun's barrel. Her eyes narrowed as she shifted her stance and lashed out in a roundhouse kick that collided with West's cheek and made him stagger back. He glanced up, rubbing his cheek with his free hand before he charged in, swinging his rapier in a second attempt to gash her across the arm. The Amazon returned the favor by swinging her bayonet, slamming the thicker blade into his rapier before she whirled around, thrusting his sword aside and bringing the stock of her gun down in a clubbing motion.

The stock connected not with his head, but with his forearm as he blocked it. He grunted as his bruised forearm twinged in pain, his eyes hardening int sapphires. "What would I know about change?!" Eisenhower retorted. "Simple. 'He who rejects change is the architect of decay!' A quote from Harold Wilson, if you even know who that is!" She pressed against his arm before she pulled her gun away and leapt back, spinning the weapon around so the barrel was aimed right for him.

West's eyes went wide as he broke into a run, dodging the bullets as she pulled the trigger and sent them his way. His feet pounded against the earth as the fires licked at the area around them, kept at bay from the safehouse by the trench and water spraying all over the place. The rounds peppered the ground, throwing up small bits of dirt and dust before the admiral ducked behind a nearby cluster of rocks as the bullets pinged off of them. He broke out of cover the moment she stopped firing to remove her bayonet from her machine gun's underside, and his rapier cut through the air as he lunged for her, a roar escaping his throat. "You do not understand the dangers of the Coordinator menace!" he screamed.

"Nor do you understand the necessity for change and evolution!" the Amazon snarled. "Without change, how can we evolve to a better species?! Look around you! Everyone under my command is fighting for one thing: change! A change to their futures, a change in their lives, and a change in our society as a whole! We cannot go back to the past! If we do, we are inviting stagnation and decay in our lives and society! Look no further than Rome!"

The implications were clear to Eisenhower. As long as the old guard held control for countless generations, it became clear that as they died off, their influence would wane, and their descendants would struggle to hold onto power by initiating bread and circuses, a means to try and keep the population satisfied and ignorant as to the true nature of their world. So it fell to her to inspire a new generation to take power, to invoke change in a way that would be meaningful and open to everyone.

"You know how Rome fell, right? Well, I refuse to let that be our future!" she growled. "Your ignorance and resistance will doom us all if we don't take the change to evolve and grow as a species! If that means evolving our genome, then so be it!"

"Those who embrace such a condition are sinners!" West snapped as he thrust his rapier for her throat. But the Amazon moved so fluidly it was like she was a snake. She whipped her machine gun's barrel up, exposing the single word written on the stock: the name of her gun, Swordbreaker.

His eyes widened as she gritted her teeth. "Look around you, West! This world is not yours for the taking! This world is ours! It's a world which all humans, regardless of genetics, live in! The ideals that your overlords espouse are not realistic in any sense of the word! There is no such thing as genetic purity! There is no ideological purity! Your beliefs of a world without humans only undermines what we seek to create!" she spat. She hefted Swordbreaker before she lunged, the bayonet in her left hand flying out to cut across his chest. The man staggered back as the blade gashed through his uniform and cut across his muscular pecs, making him wince. Blood flew from the wound, but he was not down. Instead, he rubbed the wound before he ran at her.

His sword thrust out and jabbed itself into her shoulder, making her flinch as the blade came through the other side. She didn't even scream or wail, instead pulling back, the sword coming out of her shoulder, revealing a neat puncture wound. But she didn't even lose much movement in her arm. In fact, it had gone right through the muscle alone, avoiding the joint and nerves directly. She rolled her shoulder, ignoring the blood oozing from the wound.

. . .

At the same time as the two warriors were clashing, a small team of Atlantian soldiers, or Stormtroopers, crept through the fighting, their goal clear: to capture or kill Commandant Ramius. The leader of the unit, David Kellogg, gripped his rifle and snuck up to where two soldiers, both women, stood guard in front of the house.

Another one of his squad mates leered at them. "Well well well... he purred. "Looks like we get to have some fun~!"

"Shut it!" David snarled, smacking him upside the head. "Those two are not wallflowers, remember?!" His gaze looked back at where their superior was fighting that Amazonian warrior. "They're being led by a goddamn Amazonian!"

The pervert blanched at the thought. "Crap...!"

"Enough, Eddy!" a third soldier snarked. "We got a mission, remember?"

Eddy Willcox grunted as he rubbed his helmeted head before nodding. "Yes, sir..."

The six continued on their trek, only for Eddy's left foot to kick some debris, sending a small rock clattering down the side of the pile they were creeping over.

One of the Marines snapped her gaze over and her eyes widened. "Hey! HOLD IT!" she barked. "STOP RIGHT THERE!"

David's eyes flew wide as he realized they had been spotted. Gripping his rifle, he swung it around and opened fire on the two women. They ducked behind the safehouse's perimeter as what appeared to be thick steel walls rose up from the trench, acting as makeshift barricades. "Crap!" he muttered. "How much did they install in this place?!"

"No idea, but those two bitches have the defense here!" Eddy growled.

The female Marines emerged near the top of the wall, aiming their assault rifles over the edges and firing in their direction. The six Stormtroopers ducked behind their hiding spot and one of them aimed his sniper rifle at the two soldiers. The man pulled the trigger, but the female he was aiming at ducked behind the wall as she pulled her companion down. Not even a moment later, two more guns opened fire, this time from the male Marines as they ran past atop the next wall over. The sniper was shot dead through the head and he dropped his rifle. David was quick to pick it up and aim it at one of the men coming to the aid of the women.

However, he wasn't able to get a shot off as a sniper shot cut through the air and impacted his hand, causing him to lose a majority of the appendage and the sniper rifle in one shot. He cried out and gripped at the very stump of where three fingers had once been, some of his bone poking through the flesh and muscle, a new nerves dangling uselessly from the hole in his flesh. He couldn't believe the intense pain or the sight of his own injury. His mind was racing.

He had always been told he was superior, that he couldn't be injured in such a manner... least of all from a weapon belonging to infidels! This was... not right...

He was starting to go into shock at this revelation. There was no way this could be real...! There was no way it could be real...!

Over and over his mind repeated the words, like he couldn't accept it. He was slowly losing it, and the last thing he recalled was one of his soldiers slugging him and causing him to black out.

. . .

Eddy Willcox grunted as he hefted his unconscious superior over his shoulder before looking to Alfred Holmes. "Make sure you don't fall to such weakness!" he muttered as he handed their superior to the man. Alfred nodded and slung him over his shoulder before turning and running back towards their evac point.

Eddy, on the other hand, was intent on completing his mission. They had to make sure the former commandant was not misled, or even turned and used against them. He gripped his assault rifle and began moving. "C'mon!" he barked. "Let's show these infidels the folly of resisting Lord Azrael!"

"HEIL!" the men cried as they charged forward. The men aimed their rifles and opened fire as they charged at the wall, unaware of the men and women manning the perimeter now. Already a number of other soldiers began swarming up the sides, most of them from the perimeter guards they had seen. The guns they were aiming were reminiscent of those that the old American Army had used, but the type eluded him. It was only when they started to open fire from the edges of the walls that he remembered the type that had been the mainstay.

The old M16 assault rifle.

And these vermin were equipped with it. He gritted his teeth as he raised his M26 assault rifle and fired, sending a veritable stream of bullets their way. The men and women ducked down as the stream pinged off the metal skin of the walls, just about punching a hole through it. He sneered as he cackled. "Nice try, bitches!" he chortled. "You can't stop us!"

"Oh yeah?!" a voice snapped, and Eddy recoiled as he realized that one of the female Marines was speaking to him directly as she peered around part of the barrier. "You won't get past us!" She aimed her gun again and fired, forcing Eddy to stop his attack and pull back behind cover from a shell from one of the tanks. He peeked around and aimed his gun once more, pulling the trigger, only for it to emit clacks instead of a steady pounding. His eyes went wide as he realized what this meant.

He was out of ammo.

And that was bad.

. . .

Major Helena Jackson narrowed her eyes as she shifted her stance atop the wall's perimeter. She could already see the remaining four Stormtroopers as they started to make their way towards the walls surrounding the safehouse.

She had to admit it had been a wise choice in the end to install these defensive walls, she mused as she poked her gun over the lip of the wall's perimeter and fired a short burst at one of the men coming their way. The rounds hit the man in both legs, practically severing them and making him cry out in agony. He would be captured later, she mused as she watched as Sergeant Kenneth Dragos opened fire with his own gun. A second man fell with a shot through his gut, torso, and head as he collapsed. The remaining two peeled off and ducked into the trees that surrounded the safehouse.

"Shit...!" she muttered. "They're trying to sneak past us!"

"Not like they can," Kenneth responded as he lowered his rifle. "These walls have no gaps in them, remember?"

"Maybe the walls don't," Helena countered, "but the trees poke over the perimeter, remember?"

The sergeant's eyes went wide before he glanced around, spotting a few trees that did poke over the wall's perimeter. "Crap..."

The major's eyes hardened as she toggled the radio she wore under her helmet. "All soldiers are to scour the perimeter of the walls for any Atlantian Stormtrooper that comes over using the trees! Our goal is to keep them from getting to the commandant at all costs!"

A chorus of affirmatives reached her hearing and she nodded as she took her hand off the radio's transmit button.

The entire perimeter squadron started to roam, their eyes and ears peeled for any sign of intruders.

And their patience paid off.

Within minutes, one of the soldiers spotted movement in the leaves of one of the trees close by. "There!" she shouted.

Just as she shouted that, two forms emerged from the leaves, one of them running for her and grabbing her by the throat. One of the Stormtroopers proceeded to shove her against the wall's edge and he slammed her into the ground. She grunted as she landed on her stomach, only for the man to force her onto her back. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous emerald shards as her hand flew for the man's throat and grabbed it in a brutal fashion. He gagged as she then slid one leg under his chest and kicked him right in the solar plexus. He gasped and gagged at the same time, causing his eyes to bulge as her hand tightened in a death grip.

The resistance soldier reached for her pistol and ripped it free from her holster before shoving it against his groin and pulling the trigger. She didn't have time to prepare for the shot's loudness, but she didn't care as the gunshot rang out across the area. The Stormtrooper broke out screaming as loud as he could like a little girl, and his hand flew for where his 'family jewels' once sat, and he collapsed onto the walkway surrounding the safehouse.

The other Stormtrooper saw what she had done to his buddy and was about to charge at the woman, only for Kenneth's big hands to grab the second Stormtrooper by his head. He yelped as he was pulled back and slammed into the walkway's thick steel surface. He grunted from the impact, his helmet having saved him from a concussion, or even worse. But the big rebel was not deterred. Instead, his right hand flew for the man's neck and he squeezed as his free hand slipped a knife free to cut the helmet straps holding it in place. Without much hesitation, he slid it under the straps and cut, tossing the knife aside and pulling the helmet clean off before throwing it towards the safehouse. With his helmet gone, the Stormtrooper was vulnerable as Kenneth pulled him up by the back of his slicked back blonde hair.

"Time for you to die," he growled.

Then he shoved the Stormtrooper's head against the steel walkway with enough force to cut a gash in his skull. Blood began to ooze out, but it wasn't enough. Sergeant Kenneth Dragos was not known as the "Killer Dragon" for nothing. He drew the man's head back a second time before slamming it against one edge of the walkway perimeter, this time oozing more blood and a bit of brain material. The rebel's eyes were nothing but blank slates as he slammed the Stormtrooper against the perimeter's edge five more times until brain matter oozed out and nothing of his blonde hair remained intact. He dropped the corpse and rubbed his hands on his uniform.

"Geez... Talk about brutal...!" the woman he had saved squeaked.

"I said I don't tolerate misogynists," he replied. "They deserve nothing less than death if they try to rape women just for their gender alone."

Helena came running over, having heard the commotion. "What the hell...?" she whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at the dead Stormtrooper and one of then clutching at his groin where his balls once had been, whining like a little girl.

She stared for a moment before she shook her head. "Report!" she ordered.

"Two targets down," Kenneth reported. "One deceased and one alive, but injured severely."

A loud roar caught the trio by surprise and Helena ran to stare out over the battlefield as the two tanks guarding the roadway were continuing to open fire on the APCs as they tried to venture closer to bypass them.

. . .

Second Lieutenant Geoff Willis narrowed his eyes as he tried to gun it, speeding right for the main entry into the rebel safehouse.

Some part of him, much to his displeasure, actually found their defenses impressive, seeing as how they had no doubt spent years on them. Either that, or they had just finished them and this was their first time being deployed.

Regardless of how he felt on the matter though, he had a mission and he was not about to fail it, not since the assassination unit had failed to get past that wall. His eyes flicked to where he saw two more of the APCs assigned to this getting closer off to the left.

However, the tank that was facing them pivoted its turret and fired once, sending a large HEAT round right for it. The vehicle exploded as the round hit, triggering the fuel and ammunition to cook off in a large fireball. Pieces of metal flew in every direction and he had to swerve around some of it as it landed on the ground in front of his own APC. The tank's turret then adjusted just the tiniest amount before a second thunderous roar cut through the fighting, sending the second round right for its target.

The second APC exploded in much the same fashion, but this time body parts were added to the mix; there had been five additional soldiers inside it for reinforcements.

His blue eyes hardened as he gritted his teeth, flooring it. With the tank on the left side busy, there was no way they could pivot that gun around in time!

"Wait! Don't do it!" someone else shouted over the radio.

Geoff ignored the warning and pushed his APC faster.

He didn't even notice the machine gun mounted to the top of the tank swinging around and the commander aiming for his windshield.

The last thing Geoff heard was the loud chattering of the gun and then intense pain as the bullets peppered through the glass and struck him. Blood erupted from his wounds and all he could think about was how he could have lost so easily before oblivion claimed him.

. . .

Tank Commander Debbie Hartford ran a hand through her hair as she adjusted herself in the seat. "Target status?" she asked the gunner over her radio.

"Target destroyed," he replied. "We've got this area secured."

"Good." Her gaze drifted towards where the last of the APCs was burning from its fuel spilling everywhere. She could see a few survivors from the vehicle as they limped towards the entryway, and she watched as the tank that had taken them out swerved its turret to aim at them. But contrary to her fears, the three men threw up their hands, fell to their knees, and sprawled on their stomachs. A few other resistance soldiers swarmed out and started to strip them of their guns and weapons, as well as removing all communications devices. They were then hauled to their feet and escorted away to another location; she had no idea what the perimeter soldiers were going to do with them.

But whatever they were going to experience, it was not going to be a good thing, she guessed. After all, it did make sense that many were taken care of by the resistance if they even tried to attack civilians and innocents. With the reports of Kiddie Kamp having been destroyed in the brutal fighting now spreading to Atlantian formations, many were not willing to risk losing everything. A smirk crossed her face as she brought up the news on her phone, spotting the remains of the camp and all the children being escorted onto planes that had landed out in the desert to receive them. Those that they could not bring on planes were instead transferred to a nearby train that had arrived close to three days after the planes had started to take the injured survivors to rebel-held or rebel-aligned cities.

The article was close to three weeks old, but it was very good at describing the fight that had taken place, and Debbie had to admit this was a good shocker for many Atlantian forces. Upon learning of Kiddie Kamp, many had outright defected, joining the resistance and opening fire on their former comrades.

But the real danger was to their public image abroad. If anyone found out about that kind of camp... it was sure to damage their reputation unless someone was cunning enough to instead tie it to the Atlantian Reich's Government. And that, right now, was very difficult to do.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a loud staccato burst of gunfire from close by and she popped her head over to see where it was coming from.

. . .

President Eisenhower slid backwards, her feet leaving gouges in the soft earth, Swordbreaker held off to the side with smoke curling from the barrel. She glanced up, sweat running down her face as she panted heavily. Blood dripped from a gash over her left eye, and she had several other cuts from Richard West's rapier across her muscular body. She stood up, wiping some blood away from her mouth before spitting some out. She glared at him, her eyes still in SEED Mode.

Just seeing the look of utter shock on his face was enough to make her smirk. "What? Never fought someone who's been in combat?" she mocked. "Because I've been in battle, unlike you!"

"I too have been in combat!" West snarled as he lunged for her, but the woman moved swiftly, despite the pain from her injuries.

"Then how come you can't match me?" the Amazon asked. "Because it seems to me like you've only been behind the front lines, not at the front lines like I have been!"

She brought around her bayonet, which she still held in her left hand, and clanged the blade against his rapier as he tried to cut into her throat. She pushed it aside and delivered a kick right to his chest, forcing him to stagger back. His white uniform was now stained with mud and blood from where she had cut him and knocked him down a few times, and his hat was missing; he really hated how she had knocked his hat into a fire burning close by.

"You..." Richard didn't even say anything more as he gripped his sword and ran at her as she leapt back, bringing up her gun and firing off a staccato burst of gunfire. The Lord High Admiral leapt to the side and broke into a run as she pivoted, chasing him down with the stream of bullets before her gun clicked empty. However, she didn't toss Swordbreaker aside, nor did she slide it onto her back. Instead, she hefted the gun and slid the bayonet onto the bottom and held it like a sword herself.

West's eyes narrowed as he reached into his uniform pocket and pulled something out. Eisenhower arched an eyebrow before he held it up. "This... This calls for drastic measures..." he muttered. "I didn't want to have to do this... but you leave me no choice."

He lifted the small pill and Eisenhower's eyes widened. "Wait... What is that!?" she blurted.

"My only ticket to victory," Lord High Admiral West muttered. His eyes narrowed. "And this time... no one will defeat me! This cocktail of combat drugs will make it so!"

"Wait! DON'T DO IT!" Eisenhower yelled, realizing just what he was about to consume.

But the man didn't listen. He gulped down the pill, and at once the cocktail of combat drugs took hold.

The effects were instantaneous. His muscles began to bulge out, tearing at his uniform and making his injuries heal somewhat. His eyes screwed shut as the sheer intoxication surged through him, his teeth gritted as he doubled over, his muscular form seeming to become bigger. His eyes suddenly snapped open and the Lord High Admiral let out a bellowing roar as Eisenhower threw up both arms to block the force of his shout. Her eyes were narrowed as they darted over his larger form.

'Crap...! They just had to give him a cocktail of drugs derived from the Extended's own, didn't they?!' she thought to herself.

The man lunged for her, his sword held back instead of held forward for a thrust. Eisenhower gasped as she realized what the intent was and she brought up Swordbreaker to block it. She had to put all her strength into the block, her muscles visibly straining underneath her coat and uniform top. She gritted her teeth as she pushed, relying on her muscular legs to give her enough force to wrench the rapier to the side. She spun around, shoving the blade to the side as she did so, her left foot whipping up in a brutal roundhouse that connected solidly with West's cheek. He staggered back, but then he glanced up and the resistance general realized at that point that he was no longer thinking.

'Shit...! He's nothing more than an animal now!' she realized in horror. She was forced to dodge his next swing, which was followed by a bone-crunching right cross. The Amazon slid around and pushed off the ground, her weapon drawn back for a slash. She swung it hard, the bayonet carving through his abdomen, but not sending him to his knees; it was as if he were immune to pain. She hissed in frustration as she broke off the attack and landed, panting as she hefted Swordbreaker in front of her. 'Well... if that's the case... then I'll just have to keep hitting him until he drops dead from loss of blood.'

With that resolve in mind, she gripped her weapon by the stock and lunged once more.

But the Lord High Admiral was not going to let her win. A sneer crossed his face and his eyes glinted, making her gasp as a contingency leapt at her from the depths of her mind. Reacting with swift reflexes that surpassed a normal human, she brought her weapon up in a blocking motion, with both hands firmly placed on the gun barrel and stock. She felt her arms shake as she hissed through her gritted teeth. "Dammit...! You played me!" she grunted.

"Of course, whore!" West chuckled. "You were too easy to lure in... right into my trap!" His left foot lifted and lashed out, but the Amazon wasn't falling for this. She wrenched her weapon away from his rapier and broke into a run, just barely avoiding getting hit in the side with enough force to break a person's spine. She turned around and brandished Swordbreaker before she tensed. "And yet you still rely on running... like the coward you are..."

"No. I just know when to retreat!" Eisenhower retorted as she braced herself. Her eyes narrowed as she watched his movements. "And unlike you, I don't rely on combat drugs that were given to children!"

"Please. They were merely test subjects for the overall goal of human enhancements," West purred. "And you will be the only one to see the results of all their research!"

"Research? Hah!" Eisenhower actually laughed. "You call that research? I call it like it really is: torture of a child!" She waited as he prepared to lunge. "And that, West, is the worst thing any human being can do! Especially with scum like you!"

Richard didn't even hesitate to leap right for her, forcing her to spring back with uncanny agility for someone of her height, weight, and stature. The Amazonian rebel performed a perfect backflip, delivering a brutal kick to his chin as she flipped in midair. The man staggered back, but regained his balance swiftly and reacted with inhuman reflexes. He swung his sword, but the Amazonian woman tensed and blocked with her right arm, taking a gash there before retaliating with a brutal uppercut to his chin once more. Despite the pain searing through her arm, she didn't even flinch as she thrust her left arm forward, with her gun held out like a lance.

The bayonet gashed through West's chest on the side, carving a deep ravine in his right pectoral muscle and into his armpit before emerging from the rear. He didn't even flinch, making her realize just what was going on.

'He can't even feel pain anymore...!' she thought. 'This is bad... very bad! That means he can still keep fighting, even though he shouldn't! And I can only keep the pain I'm feeling at bay for so long, despite my willpower!'

Her eyes hardened as she gritted her teeth. 'Okay. This is it!' she growled. 'No more holding back!'

With her resolve set, she pulled her weapon free from West's body in a spurt of blood and leapt back, landing and skidding. "You're going to die if you keep this up!" she hissed.

"A price I'm willing to pay if it means keeping you in your place, woman!" West spat as he ran at her. He leapt into the air as she tensed her body, bringing up her gun and holding it at an angle across her chest. The Amazonian general didn't even hesitate as she brought her blade up in a slashing motion.

She could barely block his attack as he swung his rapier down. Her eyes went wide as she realized what he intended.

He intended to cleave her in two.

She didn't have much choice. She tensed her body and leapt back, just as his blade cut through her chest.

A huge geyser of blood erupted from the wound, splattering his face and chest, making him sneer as the woman landed on her feet, only to have her legs buckle beneath her. She collapsed, but she somehow managed to roll onto her back to spare the wound the indignity of infection by mud. She panted heavily as he approached, looking down at her with a smirk. "I admit, you were a formidable foe," he told her. "But... in the end, you are a woman. You cannot even bear to live past this wound."

Then his eyes softened, filled with nothing but pity for her. "You wasted such beautiful childbearing years... and all for what? ideals that don't have any relevance in this day and age? Such a foolish thing to do."

Eisenhower's chest was heaving as she slowly pried open an eye, but despite the pain surging through her chest, she didn't even flinch or cry out. Tears did prick at her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.

"Oh, look. You're crying. How fitting for your weakness..." West mocked in a sickeningly sweet tone. "You fail to realize that there is no way one can exist alongside those Coordinator daemons who clad themselves in our sacred flesh. There is no way we can come together. It is useless... and can you truly say that, despite your efforts, you can undo the damage we have caused your nation for the next seventy decades?" he sneered.

"Hardly...!" Eisenhower rasped, managing to speak despite her intense agony.

She glanced to the wounded Lord High Admiral looming over her like a giant. But despite his drug-induced musculature being bigger, he was in no way her equal, least of all her superior. In spite of her wounds, the Amazon wasn't about to back down. She gritted her teeth and braced herself.

Much to his surprise, the wounded resistance commander drew her legs up to her chest and she lashed out in a fierce double kick that sent him recoiling. The woman gritted her teeth against the agony lancing through her entire body, but she didn't relent. She placed both hands on the ground and pushed herself into a crouching position before she got to her knees. Her left hand went for her dropped gun, and as she started to get to her feet, she felt her right boot brush against another sharp object. Her eyes widened as she glanced down, seeing a large shard of metal from one of the APCs the tanks had take out. She grasped it in her hand and, finally, got to her feet. She took the briefest of chances to look down at her chest wound, noticing how it went down at a diagonal angle from her right shoulder to her left hip. But in spite of its length, it was not too deep, only piercing her clothes and skin, just a mere centimeter into her body. She would live, but she was running out of time to finish this fight.

She glanced up, her eyes hardening.

. . .

West's face was a mask of utter shock and horror as he watched this... this demigod of a woman... standing before him.

There was no way she was a mere human...! There was no way she was a mere mortal! She was inhuman!

The Amazon demigod gripped her weapons and leapt for him. "You still don't get it!" she growled. "It's not about coming together! It's about bringing about change! Change is not bad, nor is it good! It's what we choose it to be that makes it good or bad!"

Swordbreaker clashed with his rapier and she swung a large, pointed shard of metal from an APC right for his chest. He shifted his rapier to block it, and she retaliated with a brutal cross slash from both swords. "The changes that we seek? We hope to change the way the world sees us, and sees Coordinators! There is no reason to call them daemons! The reason why you're so scared of them is simple: You're all weak!" she spat.

West's eyes widened. "What?! You dare to call us weak?!" he exclaimed, blocking her slash with his rapier.

"Yes!" the woman snapped. "Weakness such as yours is paramount! True strength comes from accepting your own weaknesses and learning to embrace that which you deem as feminine! Emotions! Feelings! Sadness! Happiness! Nurturing! Caring! Love! Sorrow! Compassion! Sympathy! Friendship! Joy! Empathy! Trust! And respect! All these, and many more, emotions are what make us human!" She pushed his sword to the left before whirling around and slashing his left shoulder with Swordbreaker.

"You really think men can feel such emotions?!" West growled as he peeled away from her.

"You have no idea what people are truly like! I've seen men and women both be capable of ruthless behavior! Men can indeed feel all the emotions that women can feel! Lust, rage, anger, and hatred are not the only emotions men can feel!" the Amazon snarled as she braced for another slash. She hesitated for a brief second before launching into a flurry of strikes that West was hard-pressed to block. "And Coordinators are human as well, despite what you say! They can feel everything we feel, and they bleed red blood! They have the same likes, dislikes, fears, worries, hopes, and dreams! We're all human beings within our very souls, and you can't remove that! Even the Enhanced are human! You claim they are tainted, but you are wrong! The only ones here that are tainted... are you and your kind!"

"You fail to realize that you cannot undo the damage that we have caused!" West retorted. "You know that! So why even try?!"

"Because it's what we would do!" the demigod bellowed. "There is a very slim chance it can work, but I am not one to back down from a challenge! We earned the trust of Heero Yuy and his allies! We have earned the alliance of the Eurasian Federation! We have gained Orb's support! We have the L4 Coalition to support us! The Equatorial Union is on our side! The Kingdom of Scandinavia has allied their forces with Terminal! The United States of South America have teamed up with us!" She was briefly caught off guard as West's blade started to dance around, forcing her onto the defensive. "And that is something many have said was impossible! We've even gotten the PLANTs' underground on our side too!"

"What?!" West was startled. "You have allied with those space daemons?!"

"Only because that freak Durandal has something that could doom humanity as a whole!" the demigod spat. "But you won't believe me, a mere woman, will you?!"

What was strange was that some small part of him knew she was right. He just couldn't accept it.

Instead, he kept his rapier on the move, weaving it through the gaps in her considerable defenses, but it was not enough to get a hit through the gash on her chest. Instead, she only got nicks and scrapes to her arms and shoulders. "We've done the impossible, and we intend to keep it up!" she hissed. "You truly think the world is yours for the taking?! Well, you're wrong! We'll bring change to this world together! A world filled with respect and tolerance, regardless of genes, and where men like you are held accountable, no matter how much wealth you have!"

"You're such a fool!" West growled. "No man of wealth will bow to the law!"

"Then we'll make them!" the Amazon countered. "That is my goal, and my desire! And I made a promise to my family after they died: that I wouldn't die until the United States redeemed itself in the eyes of the world! And I intend to make that happen within less than a generation!"

"HAH!" West barked. "You think you can?! It's impossible!"

"Doesn't mean I won't try!" the woman remarked. A sneer crossed her bloodstained features. "And I revel in such a challenge!"

The Lord High Admiral was surprised by her conviction. This demigod was not intending on backing down, no matter what was thrown her way. And she was not about to surrender.

He gritted his teeth as he hefted his rapier. "Then so be it! I will kill you... and you will die... with your own ideology... in the grave."

"Bring it on, you bastard!" the demigod hissed.

The two stood there for a moment more before they lunged.

West brought his sword up in an effort to cleave her right arm off, but she twisted her body around and blocked with the APC's armor shard before delivering a brutal slash with Swordbreaker. The bayonet carved into his left bicep and just about took it off, but he grunted and pushed the faintest tendrils of pain aside. There was no way he was going to die here! Not to this woman!

He slashed upward, forcing her to retreat and he leapt up, his blade flashing downward as she rolled to the right, swinging her sword and unleashing a gust of embers from a burning fire. Richard felt them land on his flesh and burn, but he, dulled as he was to the sensations of pain, continued on towards her. She retreated further back before spinning around and lashing out in a double roundhouse that collided with his arms and made him stagger back, dropping his rapier.

Now that he was disarmed, she took the chance to go on the attack. Her swords flashed as she leapt up, tossing the shard of metal aside and holding her weapon over her head. West glanced up, his eyes widening as he stared at the image above him.

The demigod had her arms drawn back for a brutal downward slash, her trench coat billowing out behind her like a pair of draconic wings. Her white braid extended out behind her like a dragon's tail, and her teeth were bared in anger and hatred. Her eyes were still in that strange, glazed state, but he could see within them the fierce determination that made her such a dangerous threat.

There was no way she was just a demigod.

No. She was more than that.

This woman... was the Dragon of War. A fearsome creature that knew war unlike anyone else.

That was all he could think of before her blade drove itself deep into his skull and brain, causing him to feel nothing before Death claimed him for herself.

End BREAK TOGETHER - Black Clover: Sword of the Wizard King OST - by Kankaku Piero

. . .

TWO HOURS LATER

SENTARA NORFOLK GENERAL HOSPITAL

To say the President's condition wasn't optimal was an understatement.

Her condition was critical. With all the injuries she had sustained in that fight, it was a miracle she was even still alive. Her blood loss had been moderate though, which was a good thing, but it was still close to severe. So she needed several transfusions of O positive blood to make up the loss. Not only that, but the gash across her chest and abdomen had to be cauterized before it was stitched shut. It would take close to several months for such a would to heal, and that was if she remained on bed rest. But because of her tendency to fight, and be in the middle of things regarding the alliances she had forged, it was decided to try and speed things up with additional skin grafts should the need arise. Thankfully the laser sealing and stitches would be enough.

Plus, once Anchorage was reclaimed, then she would no doubt go into space, which would help her wound a bit more as without as much gravity to stress her injuries, she could heal more effectively. Judgment Station did have a slightly less gravity ratio when compared to Earth, anyway.

As the President lay in the hospital recovering, this would test the resistance's bonds with one another, and see if they could trust in one another to complete a plan unlike any other.

And it all started with the fearsome duel against the late Lord High Admiral, Richard West...