Part One

I have had little luck in locating my companions. Though all four of them seem to be carving paths of destruction wherever they go, they disappear quite effectively afterwards. Actually, taking into account how much damage I can do in a given day, I think that only three out of the other four are active. That’s just a hunch, mind you.

So I’ve been chasing shadows around the world, destroying an OZ base here and an OZ carrier there as I make my way around. No point in wasting time. However, my comrades are quite elusive. I suppose I should have expected it. We were all trained the same way, apparently.

I’m thinking about taking out a billboard. Or perhaps putting something in the Want Ads.

“Single male Gundam pilot, looking for compatriots . . .”

I’ve been thinking about this too long.

Anyway, Rashid and the Maganacs are faithfully following me around, helping me wreak havoc. It’s so nice having a personal army, even if it is a small one. I’ve been trying to keep track of how much information OZ has on us. Unfortunately, their database is much harder to hack than S’s. As far as I can tell, they have accounted for five Gundams. I found a very interesting report on one that ended up on the bottom of the ocean.

This would explain why my fifth comrade is not in battle.

I have to wonder if he’s even alive. However, being a Gundam pilot, he’s probably tough as nails and at least as smart as I am. I’m sure he found a way to survive. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing where he washed up on shore, so I can’t just go after him.

A quandary.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to kick OZ’s . . . mobile suits . . . while I look for the other pilots.

****

Apparently Fate is on my side.

It was only a matter of time, however. There are only so many logical places to attack, sooner or later I was bound to run into one of my fellow pilots by chance alone.

Today I met a singularly . . . there’s a word I’m looking for . . . interesting . . . oh hell, handsome . . . young man.

Unfortunately, he assumed I was an enemy at first. We got that straightened out fairly quickly, though Rashid nearly had a fit when he found out I’d hopped out of my Gundam in the middle of a firefight. I claim I was in no danger. Rashid can be a bit overprotective at times.

He’s the pilot of 03, so I already knew his name. But for form’s sake, I introduced myself anyway.

He replied, oddly enough, “I have no name. But if you must, you can call me Trowa.”

All right, interesting does fit him fairly well.

So I managed to convince Trowa that we shouldn’t be fighting each other and we came back here and I explained to him that there are five of us. He has apparently been keeping a fairly close eye on the OZ channels, because he was already aware of this. He was not, however, aware that we were all trained by the same group of people and we were all working for White Fang. Or not working for White Fang, as the case may be.

His eyes are so very green.

Anyway. Trowa agreed to stay while we attempted to locate the other three pilots and come up with some constructive plan. I must admit I was glad.

Did I mention that he was very good-looking?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a one track mind. However, you must keep in mind that as a Gundam pilot, my chances at romance are somewhat . . . limited. Downright nonexistent. I’m fifteen. I want to be social.

Of course, I have no idea whether or not Trowa feels the same way about me. Or if he’s even interested in men as a general rule. His green eyes, while expressive, do not betray any of what he’s thinking. I must admit I’m curious. He has a face like a mask, and no name to speak of . . . I hope I can get him to open up to me a little. And not just because he’s handsome.

He plays the flute, too. Quite well, in fact. We sound quite well together.

It really does sound like I have a one track mind. I’m blushing now, just thinking about it. However, with nothing to think about but missions and Gundams and White Fang for months and months, I could use a distraction.

It’s funny, however, that I’ve never had a problem keeping this journal before, but suddenly I’m loath to write down what I’m thinking. If he found it, I think I would die of embarrassment. Of course, the file is well hidden, and I doubt he would start searching through my laptop. But still . . . S told me the journal would improve my observation skills.

It’s certainly improving how much I’m observing Trowa.

****

One of the other Gundams appears to particularly like destroying Mobile Suit factories. He’s been cutting a steady path down the East Coast of the Pacific Ocean. Trowa looked at my data and agreed that the Mobile Suit factory in Kanamoto will probably be next. We’ve also agreed to attempt to intercept him here. From the sketchy data there is, it would appear to be Gundam 05. Chang Wufei.

****

I’ve come to the conclusion that Chang Wufei gives new meaning to the word ‘proper.’ Trowa and I decided to let him destroy the Mobile Suit factory before intercepting him. No point in interrupting a good night’s work. When he was finished - and from a purely subjective standpoint, let me mention that his Gundam can do some really cool stuff - we simply walked over. In our Gundaniam armor, I might add. Just for safety.

Good thing, too, because he naturally assumed we were a new enemy and reacted quite violently.

Everything worked out in the end. I managed to calm him down enough so I could safely leave my Gundam. Reverse psychology - if you make yourself available to be killed, they never want to kill you. He took longer to listen to reason than Trowa, but between the two of us we managed to convince him we were not the enemy.

He apparently also knew about us, which is probably why we convinced him in the end. I’ve come to the conclusion that anyone keeping tabs on OZ’s reports must know that there are five of us by now.

Not comforting.

I’m disturbed by the silence from S and White Fang. After one fairly polite e-mail and one fairly threatening e-mail requesting my return to the base, I have received nothing. I ignored both messages. Trowa said he also ignored his. Wufei said he replied to the polite one with a firm but equally polite no. He ignored the threatening one, saying it was below him to respond to threats.

I think he does have a sense of humor in there somewhere. I’m cautiously taking a liking to him - I say cautiously because I imagine if I said the wrong thing to him, I might end up with a rather large knife in the vicinity of my throat.

He’s very touchy. I think that ponytail is a little too tight.

****

A new and interesting bit of information.

I mentioned already that one of the Gundams had ended up on the bottom of the ocean. OZ, naturally, has been trying to retrieve it. I say ‘trying’ because their last team was rather messily - and very thoroughly - destroyed. I’m hearing reports of a thermal scythe underwater. I don’t think that’s possible.

If the pilot of the sunken Gundam is obviously without his machine, that means that the fifth pilot must also be in the area. He apparently has an interest in retrieving the Gundam. Whether he wants it for himself or he’s doing a favor for its pilot isn’t clear.

However, a little careful hacking - Trowa is a much better hacker than I am - revealed the coordinates of this Gundam. I suggested we go to the area and see if we could locate one or both of our remaining comrades. Trowa agreed. Wufei asked why we should waste time. I mollified him by pointing out the many attractions we could see and destroy on the way.

I’m glad that the three of us seem to get along and be able to work together. We were all brought up to be solitary. Fortunately, the years of isolation seem to have made us eager for human contact rather than completely killing our social skills.

By ‘us’ I think I mean myself. Trowa is . . . uncommunicative, and Wufei is . . . a bit stiff. I’m sure we can overcome. I find myself hoping at least one of the other pilots is friendly. If I end up with four of this type, I may go insane.

****

Part Two
GW Fics