[center]U.C. 0079, January 3rd[/center] [center][sub][color=red]Sydney Australia[/color][/sub][/center] [center][img]https://cdn.concreteplayground.com/content/uploads/2014/09/animesydney1.jpg[/img][/center] [hr] [indent][indent][indent] Talk of the war was distant in the morning, with the hazy heat of the Australian climate mixed with the hustle and bustle of the metropolis. Tensions were high, especially when newspapers reported on the nearly [i]billion[/i] deaths in some of the colonies. Nuclear arms, nerve gas, mass murder...there was a solid question of exactly who were the villains in this situation. Many newspapers held exposes on the Zabi family, and the drama surrounding their rise to power in Side 3. The Australian Times even had the charismatic Ghiren Zabi front and center; with the tagline [i]”Ghiren Zabi, the Next Great Orator? Or Next Great Dictator?[/i]” There had been a sense of excitement around the major cities. Would there be a great war? Would they see federation fighters flying overhead? What would the ’80s bring? They were only 21 years away from the end of the first century in the Universal Century. Would they need to rename it after all? The Universal Millenium? Life continued on. Cars honked, birds flew, and it was peaceful. But in some neighborhoods, dogs seemed nervous, pulling at their chains. Rats scurried out of alleyways. Something was coming. [center][img]https://i.ytimg.com/vi/-p9Io8CCSHg/maxresdefault.jpg[/img][/center] And then it broke the sky, like a devil descending in the fires of the apocalypse. For those on the ground, they would be unable to even make out the name “Island Iffish” from the side of the superstructure. It fell, but its velocity seemed stagnated as if the inevitable end was coming in slow motion, increasing the terror from below. Screams. Prayers. Silence. It was all deafened by the nuclear explosion as the reactors went critical on the colony piece. And in seconds, the city was gone. The continent would shake; tsunamis would break down flooding coastal areas in Asia, Africa, and even North America. But worst of all was the effect of the animals: the fragile ecosystem of Australia would be ravaged by the effects of the colony. By U.C. 0082, most of the species in Australia would be extinct. [/indent][/indent][/indent] [center]U.C. 0079, January 3rd[/center] [center][sub][color=green]North America[/color][/sub][/center] [hr] [indent][indent][indent] The house stood atop a small hill, and overlooked more hills of green. It was comfortable, it was beautiful and it was nice. The father had worked for years to save up enough to purchase the home, and he was happy, if only for a moment, to find himself away from war and conflict to celebrate with his family. [color=silver]”Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Jon-”[/color] The earth shook, and the singing stopped. The singer, a large man with broad shoulders and a bushy beard, quickly set the cake onto a table and took his child into his arms. [color=silver]”It’s okay, it’s just an Earthquake,”[/color] he reassured his son, as he pulled the elementary-aged child under the large wooden table of the house. The shockwaves came next. Glass shattered; the windows, the television, picture frames; [i]everything[/i]. His son began to scream. He held him tighter. The walls of the house creaked. The sound of wood splintered broke through the deafening ringing in the father’s ears. And then, everything began to collapse. The world broke into thunder, and the roof fell in with an earth-shattering crash. No one knew what had happened; but only a hundred miles north, sections of the Island Iffish colony had fallen onto parts of southern Canada and the United States. Even though they were far away from any major chemical damage, the shockwave itself shook the land, and caused mass destruction in its wake. Darkness enveloped the two for what seemed like hours. The boy roused first, barely able to move. There was so much weight over him. His father’s weight. [color=yellow]”Dad,[/color]” he grunted, shaking the older man, [color=yellow]”Dad, wake up.”[/color] It was when he noticed the blood dripping from his father’s bushy beard that he realized what had happened. In the darkness, with only his father’s body keeping him warm, the boy began to weep. How long had the boy been in the darkness with his father’s corpse? Hours? Days? Weeks? Time lost meaning in the pain and darkness. But eventually, after an eternity where tears could no longer fall from his face, the sounds of life returned. And then, after the fluttering of bird wings, the howling of dogs, he heard the sound of tires, the slamming of doors, and the sounds of human life. “Check the rubble! The Major is supposed to be here!” Wood, stone, the shifting of the world buried on top of the boy filled his ears. Light began to trickle from small holes above him. He wanted to speak, but he could make no sound. “There’s someone here!” Light erupted around him, and the cold wind of day beat the cold darkness away. [/indent][/indent][/indent] [center]U.C. 0093, March 12[/center] [center][sub][color=green]Earth Orbit[/color][/sub][/center] [hr] [center][img]http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hEUsTirZU9Y/S9Y0JQnsMNI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/EZXUoSZjtgY/s320/char%27s+counterattack+axis.jpg[/img][/center] [center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210309/67f4d32259e1c4f33558cc5f630b9240.png[/img][/center] [indent][indent][indent] [color=red]”Keep the pressure on the feddies!”[/color] Comms chatter echoed around the cockpit of the Geara Doga. The pilot was too busy trying to stay alive to worry about keeping any [i]goddamn[/i] pressure on anyone. It didn’t help that Londo Bell came out hard. Of course, they would; this was going to be the final battle, regardless. [color=red]”Where’s Gyunei?!”[/color] More worthless chatter. What did it matter where Char’s bodyguard was? One or two Newtype suits wouldn’t- [color=red]”I saw him! He got taken out by that new Gundam! He shot him down like he was nothing![/color] The federation ace; that’s who the pilot didn’t want to face. Idiots like Guss thought they’d become heroes or get that bratty little girl to pay attention to them if they took down an ace pilot. But he’d been in enough combat to know that taking down an ace like that would require more luck than actual skill. [color=2B9917]”Idiots.”[/color] He grunted, as he went back into the fray. It didn’t last long. Maybe thirty minutes tops. But they’d done their job. Axis was in the atmosphere, and it was over. He wondered what he would do after this job if he’d be able to find some easier work and settle down. After piloting for Neo Zeon under two different leaders, he was getting tired of it all. And then the damndest thing happened. The Federation Ace beat Char. A pyrrhic victory; since the Axis was already falling. But then the dumb bastard attempted to push the asteroid back! It would take multiple capital ships to pull the damn thing! But then he heard the comms break out again. [color=red]“Help push it back! Come on!”[/color] What the hell were they doing!? The job was done! There was no reason to throw away their lives trying to stop the inevitable. Mobile Suits from both sides were burning up, exploding trying to push the damn thing back. Just let them kill themselves and go home. And then he saw it. At first, he thought it was a glitch in Geara Doga’s visual system. A cloud of green, all emitting from the heart of the asteroid. From that ace’s Gundam. He’d been briefed and dealt with Newtype weapons before. I-Fields, Funnel Bits, Psycommu. But this? Whatever kind of Newtype power this was, he couldn’t believe it. It was impossible. And it was moving the asteroid back. [i]It was a miracle.[/i] The pilot sighed and felt his body go limp for a second. [color=2B9917]”I’m done. I need to find a new line of work.”[/color] He activated his boosters and quit the battle. He was done. [/indent][/indent][/indent] [hr] [center]U.C. 0094, April 11[/center] [center][sub][color=green]Mars Sphere Asteroid Belt[/color][/sub][/center] [indent][indent][indent] The Federation Carrier Belarus had been traveling for six weeks now. Six weeks of quiet, boring travel, and most of the crew onboard enjoyed it. This was your standard trading mission; delivering supplies and gear for Mars in exchange for food supplies for the colony. An easy trade; and something they were happy to do. After the events of the second Neo Zeon war, things had been stressful over the convoy lines. Fears of terrorist factions emboldened by the war brought an air of tension for these low-armored convoys. They had no need for a heavy escort, after all, they were delivering frozen corn and potatoes, not weapons. Still, they had whatever old suits they could spare. A few GM-IIs, old relics from the 80s. They were still better than a Ball. “Sir,” the communications officer spoke on the bridge, “Sensors are picking up heavy Minovsky particles in the area. Should we go on-” Something shook the craft. An explosion? The captain grimaced. “All stations, let’s go ahead and enter red alert. Everyone needs to put on a normal suit, [i]now.[/i]” [i]One hour later…[/i] [color=brown]“Uhhh….Remia? Can you check the navigation charts? I’m getting a lot of minovsky particles in the area. Like...a [i]lot.[/i]”[/color] [color=silver]”Kellen, you are the biggest coward in the entire universe.”[/color] The young woman sighed, pushing up her glasses. [color=silver]”Our job is to salvage combat sites. There’s always going to be some residual particle-oh.”[/color] The woman was surprised to see the density of the particles. They’d [i]just[/i] missed a battle. She clicked a comms unit. [color=silver]”Salvage team 1, go ahead and suit up. We’ve got some fresh corpses to gut.[/color] In the hangar bay, several suits began to power up. One mono eye began to glow from a Geara Doga, Another from the head of a Rick Dias. The Rick Dias head, attached to a patchwork body made of other MS parts, stepped onto the catapult first. [color=yellow]“Marlowe Voltus,”[/color] the voice from the junky mech echoed around the hangar bay, [color=yellow]“Launching!”[/color] ... [color=green]”It looks like a massacre,”[/color] the voice from the Geara Doga echoed in Marlowe’s cockpit. [color=green]“There’s a feddie ship and a zeon ship. But the weird thing...they’re both cargo vessels.”[/color] [color=yellow]”Do you think they fought each other?[/color] [color=green]”No. Looking at the angle of the damage; it looks like they were both attacked at the same time. Still, there’s no sign of any other craft or mobile suits that aren’t Fed or Zeon.”[/color] [color=yellow]”So it was a total wipe.”[/color] [color=green]”That means keep your head on a swivel. Go ahead and call the others and the retrieval team.”[/color] [color=yellow]”Wait! Look!”[/color] Marlowe raised his mobile suit’s arm to point at the wreckage. [color=yellow]“There’s a signal flare!”[/color] [i]Two hours later[/i] The survivors of both ships were huddled in the mess hall of the Cathartes, alongside most of the crew. At the center, sitting on a metal chair, was an old man. His hair had long gone gray, and his face was wizened. His hands were gnarled from years of working on machines, but the crew gave him enough reverence as the head of a family. After all, he was the captain. [color=gray]“Welcome to our home, the Cathartes,”[/color] the old man began, addressing the survivors. They’d given them warm thermoses of coffee and soup; something that several engineers complained about. [color=gray]“We’re sorry to hear about your encounter with pirates. It seems this sector is becoming more and more dangerous. Our job is to salvage destroyed ships and to re-acquire important documents, materials, and people that have been left behind after battle. Since the attacks from this mysterious pirate group have become more regular around these parts, we’ve been sent here to clean up, so to speak.”[/color] He motioned to the various uniforms, and the accusatory glances several gave to one another. [color=gray]“On this ship, we gave up our affiliation when we became salvagers. We ask that you treat this ship like neutral ground. Here there is no Federation or Republic of Zeon. It’s just this old Vulture and her crew.”[/color] He stared down at the people in the room. [color=gray]“That means we leave our egos at the door and we focus on the job. Which now-” he said, pressing a button on a round disc set on one of the tables. A holographic star chart appeared in front of the crowd. “-is delivering you all, and our salvage to the Mars station. There you can contact the Earthsphere and charter passage. We won’t charge you for ferrying you there, because we’re kind and-”[/color] the old man grinned. [color=gray]“Your scrap is worth enough.”[/color] [/indent][/indent][/indent]