A/N: Welcome to the rewritten version of Operation Angel. When I wrote it the first time, I was still in Jr. High and quite immature both in mind and writing style. I have since matured and decided that my pilots deserved a second chance. There are a lot of changes from this version from the last. I’ve changed the story line and added or deleted details to make it a more solid story. Hopefully, those who liked it last time will enjoy it more this time around. Names have changed, characters have grown, but the plot is still the same. Please enjoy reading as I have enjoyed writing.
Note: Not only has the writing been redone, but everything is spelled correctly this time! Yay!
Warnings: Angst, violence, Yaoi, Het, Yuri
Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, some 5xS, eventual 1x2x5, OCxOC
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters/situations aren’t mine. The Angel Pilots are.

The skin between her brows tightened , the only change on an emotionless, blindfolded face. Her body shifted just slightly, barely a weight transfer that left her completely balanced. Fingers tightened, consciously resisting the urge to ball up. Wait, 01. Wait. The moment would come. Wait.

“Begin, 01.”

The scent of sweat filled her nostrils. Sweat and deodorant and male. Older, but not old. Faint tint of metal and fire. It faded some before coming at her again. Footsteps, so soft she could barely hear them. No shoes, just socks. Sound muffled. The air shifted. Breathing, circling her. The movements made the hair on her arms raise in warning. Closing in. Almost. Wait for it.

Shift…Her body responded immediately and calmly. Strikes she was blind to, yet could see even better than the one who made them, rained down upon her. She blocked and dodged, not striking back yet. She was smaller than her opponent so she had to compensate correctly for his longer reach. Sound of cloth against floor…She jumped to evade the swipe before beginning her attack. She twisted with the jump, swinging her foot around, becoming almost pleased when it hit flesh. He grunted with the impact, but she only let this register his position as she struck again. Over and over, she kept at him. A few strikes from either hit but most were deflected.

“Enough, 01.”

Immediately, she ceased and stood straight, a perfectly trained dog. The dog only bit when told to, and like that, she didn’t fight back when a heavy punch landed upon her cheek. Her body rolled with it but did not fall and she righted herself quickly. She didn’t reach up to wipe away the blood dripping down her chin, nor to remove the blindfold.

“Training is over today. Go to the Common Room.”

As she pulled off the blindfold and glanced up at him, wiping her chin, she shot him a quizzical look. She was never allowed in the Common Room. None of them were. Still, she had now been told to, against the earlier orders to stay clear. This, as before, would be done.

She left the training area and went to her quarters to clean. Her instructor had ground into her the necessity of keeping herself in perfect condition, hygiene not exempt. The quick wash wasn’t just to clean however. The nearly ice cold water proved helpful in her continued conditioning towards extreme temperatures. Every aspect of her life had something to do with her training. Even the complete absence of noise and color in her room.

It was worse then they turned the screamer on.

There was a very clear path to the Common Room. She’d passed it many times in her wanderings around the base. There, the metal door clearly marked with a large red sign.

“No Unauthorized Entries,” it read. She could hear the instructor’s voice saying the words, mocking his earlier order to go in there. She felt hesitant to do so and then berated that. She was a soldier. Soldiers did as they were told. Without another thought, she opened the door and went in.

----

“GODDAMN IT, WAILS!”

He grinned widely as the other man tore the place apart looking for him. Machine parts flew this way and that, but the old codger would never find him. Julian was far too sly with hiding for his own good. Of course, he was doing as they’d asked, making those pretty little bags-o-boom one after another. No reason why he couldn’t have a show while he was at it.

Oh, he knew he shouldn’t pick on his boss, but it was just so damn fun.

Flicking his rattail back over his shoulder, he turned back to the explosive components scattered around him. A pile of finished explosives sat beside him, seemingly harmless. He paid them no mind as he continued to make brothers for them, unable to hide his smirk as another angry shout filled his ears along with various threats.

Only when he had finished did the emerge from his hiding spot, booty carefully packed into a case, which he held in front of him. “Yo, Gramps, simmer down a bit, okay?”

Ken “Gramps” Brown whipped around. His face was an unpleasant mix of red and purple and his left eye twitched violently. Julian always thought he needed to loosen up a bit.

“Wails, I swear, if you-”

“Finished, by the way,” Julian interrupted, smirking as he held up the prize. His companion scowled and ripped the delicate package from him.

“Brat,” he muttered as he headed for the door. Julian smiled innocently as he strode after him, arms folded behind his head. Ken stormed his way down to Inventory to deposit the new supplies, shoving the rather delicate package violently into the poor keeper’s arms. Julian gave her a smile to take the bite out, and her face brightened a little.

“Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Julian murmured, resting against the counter. “He’s just an old codger.”

“Scares me every time he throws me one of your bundles,” she replied with a wink as she glanced at the ‘codger,’ who was currently cursing his way through one isle of supplies. Julian laughed, his brown eyes sparkling.

“Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully. “They were remote detonators. Won’t go off without.”

“That’s a relief…Still wish he wouldn’t throw them at me every time.”

Soon enough, Ken got whatever it was he needed and bumbled back to the counter, writing down his withdrawal and storming off.

“And Hurricane Grandpa strikes again,” Julian whispered with a smirk before going after him. The woman laughed.

“Don’t gussy up so much to that idiot,” Ken growled as they walked down the metal walled hallway. The entire base was made up of those walls, more rivets than he could count, and he had tried before. Colored strips indicated paths, but Julian had lived there his entire life and knew it better than most of the adults. Even some of the more private sectors had been desanctified by his little pranks.

“Can’t hurt any to brighten someone’s day,” Julian shot back to his teacher. Ken only rolled his eyes.

“If I find you in her bed, I swear I’ll whip you.”

“Gramps, you wound me! Do you really think me incapable of keeping it in my pants?”

“After the last incident with that lieutenant?”

“That was three months ago! I’ve been good like you told me to!”

Ken gave a dismissive grunt. “Only 08 is worse.”

Julian’s ears perked at that. They told him very little of the others, only that there were more kids like him. Eight in all, each with their own specialties. No matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to find them. He almost thought they were just ghosts, or stationed at a completely different base. Now he had a little information. 08 was apparently quite the little slut. Wonderful Intel.

“Before I forget,” Ken muttered, pausing in the hall. “You ‘re to get to the Common Room for a briefing.”

Chocolate eyes widened. “But I’m not allowed in there! I can’t even break into it!”

“Well you are now, brat! So stop sassing me and get your ass over there!”

Julian grinned and ran off.

----

Shift, clang, back off, do it again.

Shift, clang, back off, do it again.

The equipment groaned a little through the constant, never wavering movements. Squeaked as the cords shifted. It would have to be serviced soon, but he didn’t care. He had to keep the rhythm, keep his muscles in constant motion. His time was limited and he had to continue on.

Shift, clang, back off, do it again.

Shift, clang, back off, do it again.

Shift, clang-

The door opened with a squeal. He let the weights fall back quietly and looked up. The woman at the door regarded him seriously.

“Did I interrupt you?” she asked with barely any inflection. It was a formality and they both knew it.

“No,” he replied, giving the required answer. She nodded and sat down at the machine next to him. Without another hesitation, he went back to his exercise as she started her own. They were very similar, but with their specialty, that was natural. Had to maximize strength while minimizing mass and never hindering flexibility. A loss in either or gain in that one could mean death on a mission.

“03.”

He paused and set the weights back, regarding her with cold green eyes. She didn’t shiver under his gaze as most did. She was quite used to it, being his chief instructor.

“When you are finished, report to the Common Room for a briefing.”

Any curiosity or confusion he felt was hidden behind his mask.

“A mission?”

“You’re ready.”

He gave a little nod and went right back to his routine. He was almost finished. Halfway through, she got up and left. He ignored her. When he finished, he got up and went to the center of the gym. The gymnastic equipment gleamed in the lamp light, much newer than the rest and still shiny, even with his constant use of it. He chalked his hands as he had been ordered and reached for the first gleaming set.

Metal bars felt cool and wonderful as he wrapped his hands around them, effortlessly lifting himself off the ground. He swung, letting his body weight fuel it, and whipped upward, body straight and taunt, arms not daring to buckle under the weight. Walked the rails easily. He was too used to this. It was as simple as breathing and just as important. Another swing and a spin, caught himself just in time only to throw his legs up and do it all again. He didn’t have a set routine for this area. This was his reward for keeping his body so well. He did what he wanted until he couldn’t stand anymore.

Leaving the parallel bars, he made his way to the uneven, then the beam, the vault,…on and on, different patterns, jerking himself through vigorously, but it was oh so satisfying…. Only when he thought he would fall apart did he even think of stopping. He loved the feel of the air whipping around his body, the slight shifts in muscle needed to execute moves, the sheer power that filled his full being. Intoxicating.

The showers cooled his skin and cleaned sweat away. He gave himself a little luxury, standing under the spray as water streamed down his back. It pounded the toned muscles into relaxation. It didn’t last long, as he has somewhere to be, but it was enough. Had to be. Always was.

Dressing, he headed out of the gym and made his way through the hallways as he combed his fingers through his wet, shoulder length hair. He knew them, had for so long. But the people he knew better. Every shift change, names of all personnel and their schedules, and a lot more about them he shouldn’t know but did. That was part of his ‘gift’ as she called it. Still, his gift wasn’t perfected. He didn’t know where the others were.

Before him stood a door he was not suppose to be at, yet had been ordered to be. This did intrigue him, but he had been expecting it. The training had grown more intensive in the last months. He felt…oddly about the prospect. The training that had taken his entire life was going to be tested and he would have to prove himself worthy. It was a very strange feeling for someone like him.

Taking a breath, he pulled open the door and went inside to face his test.

----

“Your move.”

He looked over the pieces critically, absently tugging at a long strand of blonde that had escaped the tail. Moves opened up to him, playing out in his mind as he decided on the best one.

The piece was removed from the board by the next move, but he had expected that. With a little smile, he began his full attack. Barely minutes later, his opponent was staring flabbergasted at the dominated board.

“Tobser, I don’t know how you do it,” she whined, pouting childishly, but her eyes glittered with mirth. He only smiled back.

“You fell into a complicated trap,” he explained cheerfully. “I caught Captain Chen the same way yesterday.”

“Oh, that really makes me feel better!”

He grinned widely. The smile fell went the door to his room opened and a tall man stepped inside. He glanced at both occupants, and the board, before scowling darkly. Tobser swallowed thickly.

“Lieutenant Kuragawa,” he said in a very quiet, deadly kind of voice, which sent shivers down their spines, “You are to report back to your station an remain there through the next shift, no meal, is that clear?”

“Y-yes sir,” she replied, snapping to attention before hurrying out. Tobser slowly stood up, rubbing his arm nervously. The other male always made him feel so small and insignificant. Perhaps it was his stern face. Perhaps the perfect posture of his form. Or, more possibly, it was the rolling waves of purpose, pride, and arrogance that radiated off the man. Few others knew just how full of himself he really was behind that oh so proper mask.

Then again, he was Newtype. That sort of thing was to be expected.

“Stop coercing the soldiers into your damned head games.”

Tobser lowered his gaze. “…It was just a game of chess…nothing more…”

“Are you talking back to me!”

He swallowed hard and shook his head. Moments later, the flash of anger dissipated to a pleased sort of feeling, triumph. Tobser hated the way it made him feel. He was slimy and too big, wrapping around him until he could barely breath. But he had to breath, because Keera said so and he didn’t dare disappoint her. Not when she was the only family he had left.

“Go to the Common Room.”

Tobser jerked his head up, teal eyes wide. “What?”

“Are you deaf, boy? Go to the Common Room! There’s a briefing and you don’t want to be late for it.”

He knew not to argue, not to ask. He simply walked past the man and left his room. The path was clearly marked, as every one of them was. Outside the door, he stopped and pulled his long hair from its binding, smoothing out the blonde locks to look more presentable. He carefully redid the tail, smoothing back a few shorter strands. This was important.

His hand touched the knob and stopped there. Through the thick metal, he could feel the energies of others inside. He did a quick probe and was disappointed to find that Keera was not there. It kept him back only momentarily. He knew his sister was still alive, still there in the base, and he would see her again eventually. He then strode purposefully into the Common Room, a kind smile plastered on his face.

----

Slow shift, controlling every slight movement into the orchestrated dance. No change unanticipated, no weight shift a mistake, simply flowing movement of a free body. Only the thick, loose pants and sports bra remained upon her. The familiar mat gave its comfort to her bare feet. This was her center, a place she could reconstruct in her mind anywhere she might be. Every morning and evening, she went there to ready herself for the day and cool down from training.

Only when she was finished and had completed the polite bow to her invisible opponents, ancestors, and other spirits, did she acknowledge the man that had been watching her for a long while. He tossed a white towel which she caught and wiped sweat from her neck and shoulders.

“You did well, Rikiti,” he said quietly, his voice lightly accented. The long, completely black eyes on his serious face set him apart from most traversing the base, which probably contributed to his being assigned Rikiti Zun, a fellow Asian. It might have been an attempt at gaining her trust by bringing in someone remotely like her, but Rikiti had never been the trusting sort, even in tender childhood.

“Master Li,” she murmured in greeting, bowing a little. Her defiant blue eyes never left his face. He barely inclined his head back.

“Your movements continue to smoothen,” praised Li quietly as Rikiti went to her clothing in the corner of the room. “It is time that we test your skills.”

Rikiti paused. She glanced towards the man through her ebony bangs, her lips twisted into a frown.

“Simulators?”

“Not this time.”

She regarded him for a long moment before sliding her boots on and lifting the army green shirt from the floor.

“Your training,” began Li, his voice morose, “will determine your success. Should you fail, you will not be alive to bear the dishonor.”

Outwardly, there was no change to her stance or expression to indicate her feelings on the matter. She was a master at control. Fifteen years had taught her that restraint often meant the difference between death and life.

“What kind of test will this be?”

“That remains to be seen.” Li looked almost smug. “You will have to prepare for anything.”

Rikiti frowned at him, but she was quite use to her master’s ways. She stood before him, her arms crossed over her chest, and waited. He met her stare squarely, refusing to back down. Both were stubborn as mules, and twice as patient.

“Report to the Common Room in an hour,” he ordered. She gave a nod and he was gone, leaving her to her sanctum once more. Rikiti tarried there little before heading to her room. There was mental preparation to be done. She set her bundle down and sat before the bed, legs folded under her. Meditation cleared her of any doubts, readying her for the unexpected.

Half an hour later, the small Asian girl made her way to the Common Room.

----

Sweat trickled down between his eyes, following the line of his nose. It irritated the skin but he didn’t dare scratch. He couldn’t risk loosing his concentration. One hand was held out in front of him, elegant fingers outspread and shaking. He hadn’t moved it in hours. The muscles shivered with exertion.

Violet eyes stayed riveted on the floating balls in front of him. Each was the same size, colors varying. Behind them was a board of lights. At random, one would brighten, corresponding with one of the balls. His left eye always twitched as he poured in the necessary power to lift that ball higher, making it dancing in the air until the light went out and it would stay poised where it was. Another light lit next and it would start again.

Newtypes, even after so long, were still rare and barely understood. His training when he was younger was more centered to understanding the power he was born with than of strengthening it. He and a younger boy, who’s name he couldn’t remember anymore, worked together until the day their training started in earnest. He hadn’t seen the boy since, but knew he was still there at the base. He didn’t need the other’s empathy; too many times had he overheard soldiers or instructors talking about the progress of more children like himself.

A bell rang suddenly. He gently lowered the balls and set them in their containers before falling back into his chair with a huff. His chest ached and body shook. When had they started? Dawn? It had to be well into the evening and he hadn’t eaten at all. More training, he had been told on days before. Conditioning, so that the need of food did not overpower him. When he was younger, they learned quickly that intensive training days had to be followed with large, carbohydrate high meals, or he would faint from exhaustion and be useless the next day. Thus, he was not surprised when a man came bearing a tray of savory smelling plates.

“You lasted longer today, Tristan.”

The blonde teen nodded a little as he pulled the monitoring equipment from his skin, letting the dozens of cords fall to the ground as his instructor set the tray on his table.

“I could have done more,” he replied quietly. The man laughed and sat down across from him.

“No you couldn’t.” He picked up a glass and poured himself some tea before sipping it. “Your body would have shut down in a matter of minutes.”

“I don’t care about whatever your monitors said about my blood sugar level,” Tristan snapped as he set into the meal with more vigor than was proper. “I could have gone longer, Victor.”

The other male only smirked a little. “As you wish.”

They sat in silence as Tristan ate and Victor drank. It was comfortable, normal. They have very little contact outside of training and both preferred it that way. Then the dishes were cleared, Tristan sat back to let it settle. He felt tired, drained from the work. It was never hard to begin with, levitating eight balls of a combined weight to one pound. However, keeping them afloat, letting none hit the ground for hours as he maneuvered the others, made them all seem to weight a thousand pounds each.

“So very strange,” Victor said absently, stroking his chin. Tristan arched a brow. The older man gazed off, his mind a million miles away. “They were extraordinary people on their own….but to think the combined genes would create something so magnificent…”

The blonde boy straightened, violet eyes centered on Victor, but the other man had said his thought and would say nothing more. Tristan often heard these small bits of information, clues to a past he had completely forgotten. Sometimes, Victor would answer questions about his parents, but little else. The man seemed proud of them, or perhaps envious or in awe. Tristan didn’t know why. All he knew for sure was that neither parent has been a Newtype, like himself.

Victor woke himself from his thoughts and rose. “There is a briefing tonight. After you’ve cleaned up and rested a bit, go to the Common Room.”

Though he wondered at this order, Tristan got up and headed back to his room without question. His sore and exhausted body was much more important at the time. After showering, he threw himself upon his bed and laid prone until he thought he might be able to function again. Only as he was walking towards the Common Room did he begin wondering what the meeting would be about.

----

Long, thin, tan fingers spread across an equally tan shoulder. His index finger traced over the numerical tattoo that adorned it, marked for all the world to see. The zero-seven was not new at all, but it still bothered him. He found himself tracing the pattern through his shirt sleeves when he was nervous.

Deep blue eyes raced across lines of code upon the screen in front of him. It was like a story to him, each new tag adding a new level to the depth. He waded through it as easily as a fish swims in water. There was so very little he couldn’t hack his way through. Everything on the mainframe were lain bare to him like a virgin sacrifice. Everything, except what he was really wanting to know.

Again and again, his specialized search brought back the same information.

No Matches Found.

No matter how good he got, it was never enough to track her down and find out what had happened to her. Ten years had brought his search to nothing. Maia didn’t exist in the system. Frustrated, he closed everything down and ran a few sweeps to clear his trace. No need for the doctors to know what he remembered. They didn’t have to know anything.

He ran a hand through his messy brown hair. He would try again when he had time and will to, but there was no way he would ever give up on her.

When he finally got up and stretched, he winced at his sore muscles and looked over at the luminescent clock by his computer. It was tomorrow, or today, however he chose to look at it. He hadn’t slept all night and spent most of the day on his projects, all of which were now finished and sent off to his superiors.

He heaved a sigh and threw himself onto his bed, relishing in the relative softness that threatened to engulf him. It was probably harder than civilian beds, but after so long without rest, it was a damn cloud. He curled around his pillow, hugging it to his chest as he began to sink into rest.

Of course, it was at this moment that his door decided to open and cast the first flash of light into his room for the last few days. He groaned and hid his head against the pillow, content to ignore the other man.

“Get up already, Hisoka,” the uniformed officer grumbled. With a sigh, Hisoka rose, glaring at him with violet rimmed blue eyes. This did little to effect the other man’s expression.

“What do you want?” the teen asked tiredly. “I sent the programs and I’m rostered a damn day off!”

“Schedules change,” growled the man without pity. “Get to the Common Room as soon as you’ve washed. You smell like shit.”

“You’re so kind,” Hisoka mumbled as he got up from the wonderful, inviting bed. Message received, the brawny officer went off, leaving him alone. It was about ten minutes later that the teen even began getting ready for the meeting.

----

There was nothing quite like it. The power, the need, the utter baseness of it all. It thrilled her to no end and left her aching for more. The deep, deep thrusts brought forth gasps as his hot breath hit her neck, his lips at her collar making her feel the most wonderful sensations.

Almost as good as suit battle. Almost.

His hand brushed over her arm with an imitation of caring. She would have none of that. She wanted it hard, wanted it fast, wanted her mind to be obliterated of anything but that one single act. Her nails scratched red trails down his shoulders and he hissed, but he got the message. She wasn’t gentle, wasn’t nice, and she certainly wasn’t too weak to handle his full strength.

She was a pilot after all.

At last, it happened, the ending of their strenuous activities. He pulled away from her and dropped at her side, staring upward as he panted for breath. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feelings through her skin and slightly saddened as she calmed. It was always over so quickly, the euphoria…

“Come back again,” she murmured absently as he got up to shower. He said nothing, but she knew he would return in exactly a week. He was remarkably consistent for a married man who spent their time apart guilting over the little affair. She had far too many lovers to really care if one ever got over himself and stopped coming.

When he was gone, she got up and washed, loving how even her own fingers running through her blonde hair was enough to bring back the burn of lust to her body. Still, there was little time for that kind of pleasurable play. She was a pilot and there was still training.

Stepping out of the shower, she toweled down her curvy, womanly body, gray blue eyes taking in any perceivable imperfection. She was obsessive about very little, but her body was extremely important. She knew every soft mound of flesh better than most would ever know theirs. Even with the vigorous physical training, she had been able to accumulate an extremely voluptuous body, large, round breasts, wide hips, an ass to die for… Enough people had said so as she seduced them to her bed.

The door outside the bathroom opened. She wrapped the towel around herself, almost not enough to cover her chest and crotch decently, but since when had she ever minded that?

“08,” came a voice from the bedroom. The blonde girl smirked and stepped out, moving to the bedside table.

“Am I late, Megumi?” she asked in a sugary tone. The other woman scowled and folded her arms.

“No. There’s been a change in today’s plans, Keera.”

Keera picked up a pair of delicately framed glasses and set them on her face before looking at Megumi intensely. Small, as most Asian women were, and there were plenty of them at the base, little curves but still appealing in the way all strong women were. She licked her lips and the other woman blushed faintly. There were very few people there, male or female, that Keera Garland had not bedded, and as the almost ethereally beautiful blonde slowly stalked towards her, Megumi suddenly knew why.

“I’m on duty,” she sputtered out helplessly as she took a step back, coming up against the wall. Keera smiled and set her hands on either side of her head.

“And what is your duty?” Keera purred, leaning in to blow a hot breath into the other woman’s ear. Megumi shivered.

“To deliver you to the Common Room,” she murmured, closing her eyes as she felt those full lips against the shell of her ear, her neck, her collar…When did that talented girl undo her jacket?

“Well,” said the blonde huskily, shifting one knee between Megumi’s legs, her towel slipping free to leave her bare against the uniformed body, “I’d say I’m not ready to go yet…”

There were no more complaints and Keera arrived at the Common Room exactly half an hour later.

----

Seven children sat in silence around the circular table. There were enough chairs that they could have sat one apart, and they had chosen to do so. All were in identical clothing, the familiar army green t-shirts and baggy cammo pants, but there was no mistaking the differences between each. Their eyes flickered from one to another, sizing them up, jotting mental notes, such like that. They were a batch of oddities, and each one of them knew it.

Then the door slammed open, causing most of them to jump, and a busty blonde made her way inside.

“Good morning class,” she said cheerfully, gray-blue eyes twinkling. Immediately, one blonde boy jumped to his feet.

“Keera!” he cried, dodging past the chairs around the table to throw his arms around the girl. She gave a happy cry and smothered him against her. The others simply stared at them.

“Tobser! You’re looking good, kiddo!” She pulled away to look over him, grinning. “Nice hair.”

The boy blushed. Still grinning, Keera glanced out over the table. She slung an arm around her younger brother’s shoulders, the other hand set on her wide hips, the hem of her pants hanging low to show a strip of midriff between it and her t-shirt.

“Somebody die?”

A brunette boy snickered, his brown eyes lighting up at the girl’s cheer. “Only the God of Solemness.”

He was rewarded by a smirk as Keera lead her brother back to his seat and plopped herself between him and the other grinning boy. The quiet mood was broken only for a little while before silence fell on them again. This time, they were not left to stew quiet as long before a man came into the room that all of them knew.

“You’re all here, good,” he muttered, tugging at one of his jacket sleeves as he went to one wall covered with a dry-erase board. He was quite a bit older, hair silvered and skin wrinkled from the years. His pale blue eyes stared out through thick bifocals, making him look quite particular, but they had all learned never to say so. His name was Dr. Theodore S. Lancer.

“To begin,” he started, turning to glare at them all, “Your training will now be tested. Tomorrow, you will go on your first mission, and you’d better not screw it up.”

He had their full attention.

The next hour was spent going over the mission specifics. Four teams of two would be traveling to four targets and be expected to destroy them before the next day. They were decided by number and ordered to take the rest of the night to get to know one another.

Julian Wails stared at the girl in front of him. Her dark blue eyes never left his, as if she were waiting for some signal, some little movement to trigger an attack. Far too intense for his liking. He finally broke under the pressure of her stare.

“Nice to meetcha,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Julian Wails. Hope you’re better at piloting than you are talking.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed as she made no move to return the gesture, but did end up speaking up. “Azuki Jikken.”

“She speaks!” the boy exclaimed, causing Azuki’s gaze to go even colder. “Ah, what miracles these eyes have seen!”

In another corner, Tobser Garland was having slightly better luck, but not by much. 03, who had barely given him the name Nathan Rogers, simply stared at him impassively as the poor blonde boy babbled on without stopping. His nervousness was feeding the spill but he couldn’t seem to stop his lips from moving. Besides, Nathan made no move to stop him and almost seemed to be listening to his panicked speech. Tobser had little time to ponder this through his odd monologue.

Blue-black and violet eyes were locked as one tried to figure out the other. Rikiti Zun wondered why she was partnered with someone so obviously different from herself. Tristan Kinsley was not built for physical battles, though his lanky frame dwarfed her. He was definitely more of a thinker. ‘At least,’ she thought dryly, ‘he’s better than the simpering little blonde over there..’

Similarly, Tristan looked over Rikiti skeptically. She was a warrior, definitely, which meant her mind worked on a completely different level than his. An equal level, he hoped, but not one he could easily identify with. Before he had much longer to contemplate it, a surprised, yet muffled, sound came from behind him.

Keera Garland smirked as she drew back from her surprised and blushing partner. Hisoka Garari, the cutest little Asian boy she’d ever seen, looked even cuter with the layer of red over his lovely cheeks. Already, his lips had pinked from her quick kiss, but she hadn’t been able to help it.

“Sorry,” she said cheerfully, and Hisoka knew she wasn’t sorry at all, “I can’t resist the comfort of a warm body next to me.”

This, of course, only made him blush harder. Keera leaned in, past his face to murmur hotly in his ear.

“You’ll have to forgive my whorish nature. Just who I am.”

“Th-that’s fine,” he managed, a little dazed by her. She only grinned.

They separated when Lancer ordered it and returned to their rooms, but only a few of them actually slept. The rest were busy thinking about their missions, too excited or nervous to rest.

----

Check. Recheck. Check again. Over and over, until it’s just like breathing. Until it’s just as necessary, just as easy. Until it’s unnatural not to.

Her fingers flew across the controls, inputting new subroutines and updating old ones. She was always adding new codes that the doctor gave her. Before, she hadn’t known who wrote them but now had a face and a name. Hisoka Garari, genius of the computer language. The one other pilot she never wanted to see again.

She had watched him, the night before as they were made to greet their partners. Watched him interact with the blonde girl, watched him flounder and laugh and smile and blush and make a total fool of himself. He had no control over himself, no sense to keep his relationship with the other pilots on a strictly impersonal basis, no… She didn’t know what else, but everything about him galled her to the very core.

Especially since he looked so much like her.

The same Asian tints to the face, same compact body structure, same deep blue eyes, same dark, messy hair. His voice was more influenced by emotion, but it was all the same and she hated him for it.

“01, you alive over there?”

Azuki snapped herself back to the real word, a long line of curses erupting in her mind at letting her thoughts wonder, especially in such a manner. Her fellow pilots meant nothing unless they were on a mission with her. At all other times, they were not to be thought of at all.

“Mind your radar,” she muttered at the comm, unable to keep some of her anger at bay. She looked at her screens, noting they were closing in on the target. The view was one she expected. Tall, cement walls with barbed wire fences past them, cruelly topped with twisting brambles of metal. The cement walls were patrolled by armed guards, but they would be nothing for them. Azuki and Julian were quite safe in their mobile suits.

Julian grinned as he aimed, knowing the cloak would go offline the moment he powered his scythe. He had to make it count so that Azuki could swoop in after him. She was better suited for a frontal attack and he to sneak up on them. Deciding on a target, the lone tower just begging to be messed with, Julian redirected power to the thermal scythe in his hand. He almost laughed at the surprised faces of the guards as the large, black and silver suit appeared in mid air, looking like death warmed over. The subsequent chaos was worsened as the tower came crumbling down onto them. From the far side of the base, Julian spotted a few old, beaten suits making their way out of the hanger. It slowly occurred to him that he had never spoken to the girl about the plan, but trusted her to figure it out.

Fortunately, his intuition proved correct. Azuki made short work of the suits, easily dancing through their attacks to strike them down efficiently. She then joined in on laying waste to the base with Julian laughing over the comm.

They finished soon after and started back, but a message came through their link to home base. Azuki opened it and was dismayed when strings of code began flashing over her screens. From the horrified obscenities being thrown about the comm., she guessed Julian was having a similar problem. The Japanese girl tried to hack though the apparent virus and destroy it, but knew her skills were lacking in that department. As she expected, her efforts were wasted.

Then it all stopped. She stared at her screens as one message took over all of them.

‘Commencing Operation: Angel in 5 seconds.’

She watched the countdown and without one flick of her eyelash, Angels 01 and 02 were simply no longer there.

----

“Nathan! 01 and 02 are gone! They just disappeared!”

The green eyed boy frowned as he fought through the mobile suits pressing him. There were more than expected there, but he would deal with them as long as that blonde idiot stayed quiet.

“Go look, then,” he said, hoping Tobser would get the point and leave him be. The other pilot just didn’t understand their situation. This was the target to be eliminated, as ordered. While he’d certainly helped, the blonde boy had spent the entire battle screaming out apologies even as he mowed down the base and its occupants. It was enough to gate the nerves of any man, and though Nathan had wonderful patience, even he could only take so much.

It was like a godsend when Tobser took his advice and shot off in search of the missing suits. Nathan stayed and his confidence in his abilities proved true when he reduced what was left of the enemy force into nothing but burning slag. He contemplated whether or not to go back to home base or after Tobser. In the end, he decided the other pilot couldn’t be trusted on his own, being the bleeding heart he was, and sped after him.

Tobser’s voice filtered onto his comm when he got back in range. The poor boy was caught in a litany of his fellow pilot’s names and numbers, begging one of them to answer him or at least give some sign so that he could help them if they were down. Nathan wasn’t given much time to wonder where the other boy got his soft spot. A message came through which reduced his systems to a stream of commands. Nathan thought this odd, but unless the base had been completely infiltrated in the hours they’d be gone, he doubted it was a life threatening virus implanted in his mobile suit.

The message flashed across his vision. ‘Commencing Operation: Angel in 5 seconds.’

The sweet, kindly voice of his companion panicked in his ears as he stared at the numbers counting down. He could do nothing to comfort him and didn’t try. It didn’t matter long, for soon they were gone like the first two.

----

Tristan couldn’t comprehend what his radar was telling him. Most things wouldn’t show up from the distance he was looking at, but every Angel had a transmitter installed so that the other Angels could find them. Mobile suits, even 02’s cloaked one, did not just disappear into thin air for no reason. He could imagine defeat, but four suits were gone within minutes, two at a time. He found that extremely unnerving.

“Kinsley, on your right!”

“Got it, Zun.”

The other pilots would have to wait. Tristan made his way through the barrage of fire, returning the shots as he could. The base didn’t have suits, but their defenses were nothing to be trifled with. Tristan found himself hard pressed to dodge through the arches of light. They were beautiful in a way. Much like the other suit. Ryuu easily made her way past on the other side and shot an arm out, hand opening. Immediately, fire poured from it. He could barely hear Rikiti’s voice over the pounding in his ears.

“Feel the flames of Justice,” hissed the Chinese girl. “Nataku is your judge.”

She was very scary when she wanted to be. Tristan shivered, then shook himself from it and went on with the fight. Together, working off one another, they won victory and tore the place to pieces.

“Not bad,” Rikiti said at last, a frown on her face. “For a man.”

“The same applies to you,” Tristan replied. She stared at him for a moment before her lips twitched into a smirk. A moment later, the screens went blank and filled with scrolling text. Tristan tried to stop the apparent melt down of his suit’s hard drive, listening to Rikiti’s string of curses in a myriad of different languages.

‘Commencing Operation: Angel in 5 seconds.’

“What the hell does this mean? Operation: Angel already started!”

Tristan frowned. “I don’t have any idea.”

And then they blinked out of existence.

----

“Aren’t you listening to me!”

Hisoka was rather sure she wasn’t. Keera’s maniacal laughter sent shivers down his spine as it raged from both the comm. and her outer speakers. She yelled taunts, but it didn’t even sound like her anymore. Something had happened to the bouncy blonde girl, something Hisoka didn’t like at all.

What else he didn’t like was that she was the only other Angel he could find. The others were simply gone, vanished. Even with the upgrades he’d secretly been giving Tsuin, he could find no trace of them. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t raise them. And now Keera was going nuts on the enemy mobile suits.

“This day can’t get better,” Hisoka muttered. He sighed and got into the fighting, staying clear of his companion. He’d already figured out that when she was like this, he was just like everyone else: in major danger of dings.

They fought through, Keera yelling and jeering the whole time and Hisoka quietly disturbed. As soon as the last suit was gone, the Asian boy watched in horror as Keera turned on him.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Hisoka yelled, dodging and blocking her strikes. Keera’s only answer was her laughter.

Then Tsuin stopped responding to him. The screens went blank and filled with text. The other pilot’s cries were drowned out as Hisoka went into hacker mode, eyes flying across the screens to make sense of them. He caught the patterns and his eyes widened.

“The hell? You can’t just upload a program like this without my permission!” he raged, fingers already smashing into the keys. He gave out a growl of frustration as his efforts made no dent. As soon as he broke through one wall, another shot up behind it. It was as if someone across the link was matching his every move and keeping him from interfering.

‘Commencing Operation: Angel in 5 seconds.’

Hisoka finally sat back, listening as Keera raged in her cockpit, screaming obscenities and spitting out curses. She didn’t matter enough for him to bother her. If she didn’t figure out what was going on, he sure wasn’t going to interrupt her.

Then they were gone, the last of the Angels simply vanishing into nothing.

----

A/N: Well. Here kicks off the OA rewrite. Hope you like it. GW boys will show up next chapter.

Here's hoping the next chapter won't take months to get out. :sideways glance at Lies: