Disclaimer: The creator of Preventer 5, Katsuyaki Sumisawa, in the Preventer 5: Postscript dated July 26, 1997, permitted continuation of the unfinished story. Though I own nothing of the original 'Mobile Suit: Gundam Wing' series, this fanfiction is my own conception of how it could end.
Dedication: Thank you, L.A.UNE. I needed that one last nudge. For you, and for Vchanny, Sally, my skwid, and crazydominodragongirl, I hope this is a fitting end.
Preventer 5: Part 2
The Final Chapter
"Something's not right. Hostage team isn't responding. Control team isn't responding. And now she wants us to coordinate an ambush with the Lobby team as bait and us as the surprise element. That's not a strategy, that's her ego sending us on a suicide mission.
We vote now. I say we go to the basement shelter and get the rest of the men in here now. We ambush with a hundred instead of a handful."
The halls were empty and the four rebels made quick passage to the underground pool entrance blocked only by the emergency shelter lock. As they approached the massive vault-like door, the lights flashed and it began to open.
"The Control team must still have us on visual. Finally, something in our favor."
"You assume too much, Cowards."
Wufei leapt through the opening door and tumbled back behind a standing suit of decorative palace armor. He calmly drew its saber as the first volley of random bullets ricocheted off his wall of antiquity. He smiled to himself feeling the adrenaline course anew through his veins. The bullets ceased for a brief instant as the four rebels repositioned. He launched toward the wall and spring back high over their heads.
The Leader of Epyon de Telos knew control was slipping through her fingers. Just moments before, she'd triggered her radio and gotten nothing but static, the kind that only a powerful jammer would cause. She could only fathom that yet another team far more equipped had reached the castle grounds. She turned the final corner to reach the presumably empty ex-hostage hall, and was greeted by the jaws of a perfect trap.
Standing alone and unprepared, she faced an arc of nearly two dozen assault rifles and small arms. She was facing her very own firing squad. Most of them dignified older gentlemen, few of them elegant ladies, but in one past decade or another, all of them were soldiers. None of them had forgotten the feel of a firearm.
She raised her arms slowly and weighed her chances of leaping back behind the corner. She could see her men lining the walls tied and gagged. The enemy was not cold killing. It was safe to let herself be caught this once.
No one spoke. No one made any demands of her. They all just stood keeping her squarely in their sights. She felt the common urge to cry out in demands or questions or confessions, but knew better than to give in to it.
Someone approached from behind and began removing her weapons one by one. Not ever her hairclip pick was overlooked. She was surprised by the thoroughness of her captor, until she was turned to see her face.
"Leave me to the take my chances against the firing squad. I feel safer in their care than standing this close to a schizophrenic psychopath."
"Charming as ever… and just as ambitious… What made you think we would fall for such a menial threat?"
"As I saw it, you did fall for it. I cannot account for how you managed to overpower my soldiers. I underestimated the capacity for hostility among the hostages. You're young saboteur is quite amazing." Shrug. "This isn't over, Une."
"Such a fine combination, naivety and overconfidence… It's over, regardless what you believe. Our martial-artist dispatched 4 of your men in the lower hall. We control the communications room once more, and one of your men is captive there as well. Your men here are accounted for. And the 5 in the main entrance surrendered to our medical officer."
"Liar! No one with a nuclear warhead surrenders!"
"A metal and fiberglass replica of a nuclear warhead… Admittedly we were fooled by it, until one of our overzealous pilots drove your troop carrier over it trying to hit two of your men."
"Pilot? Then how did they surrender to a medical officer?"
"One of you men apparently stumbled back over what he thought was a corpse from the money-exchange shooting. When her hair stuck to his boot, it seems there was a violent reaction to him trying to shake it free. Severed hamstring, broken leg, 2 dislocated knees, little to no chance of ever fathering children, but he is alive… your remaining men and both my injured pilots surrendered to her."
"Destroying a decoy changes nothing. You made a mistake by jamming my radio. That set into motion events you will go down in history for singularly causing. Preventer Une will forevermore be known as the ignorant fool who witlessly caused the destruction of the kingdom."
"I only wish to be remembered as a Preventer, nothing more. Such a pity to lose so much more recognition… but it is not to be had. Your reinforcements have surrendered as well."
"Impossible! They Have The Operational Warhead!"
"Yes they do. And they deeply wish they didn't. Both entrances to the pool basement have been sealed. They have no access to the shelter. So as soon as you convinced them all to give their lives for your personal gain, we'll have quite a situation on our hands."
"You'll pay dearly for cornering them. They have one of your Preventers as a hostage."
"Indeed. Precisely the reason we have no intention of opening the seals and confronting them ourselves. We've received word that within the next 2 hours, 6 shuttles of some 450 Maganac Corps will be arriving. They've generously offered their time and patience to negotiate the safe return of the warhead and the hostage on their terms."
"So you knew…
…So be it…
…I admit my defeat to you, Preventer Une…
…But this small victory of yours will be overshadowed by your fall… and all sooner than you think."
"Spare me your prophecies. No Preventer lives in the imaginary world where there's simply no violence or wrong-doing anymore."
"You're certainly one to speak of imaginary worlds. You're government and the Preventers will fall, Une. The corruption will consume it just like all the others. And an insurgence like mine will someday succeed in winning back the means of revolution to the people. It is inevitable."
"And you'll call it 'Revolution' when you start another war? The check and balances of our world government will protect it from corruption as long as keep peace in our hearts. Changes can be gradual. They do not require violent blood-spilling revolutions."
"Checks and Balances? How can you even speak such heresies? You were a Countess of the Alliance, and now the Sole Commander of the Agency that feigns no rank! You're a dictator waving 'You Will Be Peaceful' banners and calling it the 'Will of the People'…
…The corruption has already set in. I formed 'Epyon de Telos' to take you down before you turned the entire population of the kingdom into a single mindless mass begging to be enslaved by the next world power. Any government entrusting You with executive powers has already surpassed its will to survive. You haven't changed, Anne. You're still a bi-polar psychotic. You're still a murderous monster. You should have been locked away in that asylum Right next to Father!"
The plaster cracked as her head struck the wall with such force that a nearby painting fell and shattered on the floor. She never saw the palm that struck her even move. Before she could gasp for air, Une pinned her against the wall with a forearm against the back of her neck and one of her own men's combat blades pressed dangerously against the artery in her neck.
So this was the Lieutenant-Colonel Une she'd heard so much about. Had she the breathe, she would have laughed at how a few simple words could tease out the very proof of Une's imbalance.
But this wasn't the same fury. The speed, the strength, the viciousness, it was all there, but there was none of the irrational rage. Une was perfectly calm. Her voice was somehow sympathetic. This was someone she had never met before…
…Or maybe someone she had met, but never known.
"That's enough, Midii…
…It's time for a history lesson.
In '75, our father took the most pivotal mission of his career. He succeeded, and he and his spotter were ordered into hiding till the paper trail was buried. It seems the downtime brought them closer than mere comradeship.
I was born in '76. She died giving birth to me. To this day I only know her codename.
To him, it was no way for a soldier like her to go. His way of mourning her was to take every near-suicide mission he could find. A safe box full of metals he could never wear, and a daughter in the base nursery were always there to remind him what he'd lost.
Father never let his work and his emotions cross paths again. By '79, when your mother sank in her fangs by getting pregnant with you, all she gained was the shell he left behind every time he stepped into the field.
The moment you breathed air, she had no more use for me and made sure everyone knew it.
While you had every waking moment with him between missions, the only times I ever got to see him were when the drop pilots would let me ride in the cockpit and talk to him over radio between waypoints. But while you were playing dress up, I was learning call signs and fetching munitions. The stronger I became, the more responsibilities I was given. I took my mother's place as his spotter while you were changing your brothers' diapers.
And then in '85, L3 was erased.
When I heard your mother had died there, I cried as many tears as the rest, only mine were tears for joy.
The only sorrow I felt was for Father. He had wrapped himself in your family to escape the wounds of war, and for his second love's life to end just as early was too much for him to take.
He was irrational. He believed the rumors that the Alliance had ordered that senseless atrocity. He chose to turn against the Alliance and gave me the choice to follow him. But he knew deep inside I'd rather die than leave the only family I knew to avenge your whore of a mother.
I was 9, and capable of making it on my own. I was a ranked soldier entering the academy with more commendations and field experience than even the graduating seniors. He was proud of me and respected my decision. Still, I pleaded with him not to leave, but the only words he would accept from me were those of promise that I would not betray him to the Alliance.
The only sudden 'Death or Incapacitation' the Alliance would blindly fall for was mental collapse. Having a family of fools so quickly give up on his recovery must have made it easy, if not painfully too easy. I never had the chance to thank you in person for being so pigheaded with self-important pride to never once visit your own father. All he was to you was the perfect icing on your pity-cake by adding "And a Sick Father" to your dramatically tragic past.
I suppose I cannot blame him for his choice of covers. He obviously knew he was safe behind your blinding arrogance. With you preaching his loss, the Alliance saw no reason to check up on their fallen soldier. If you had visited even once, you might have realized he'd slipped out of the asylum the very same week. But as it was, you got the government handout every month for yourself and the boys and lived on happily in your little world of self-loathing. Father knew you too well, and everyone knew how little you knew or cared about him.
Snipers traditionally take on names of gods, and his former unit had been the Lions, so he took on a new alias from the Viking and German forms, Odin Löwe. He took on a 5 year old orphan boy from L3 to train and raise as his new spotter. I hope you know enough history to recognize his spotter's codename, the name of his mark in '75, Heero Yuy.
You knew father died in '88 when the handouts suddenly ended. Once they identified his body, the ruse unraveled, and misappropriated handouts no longer found their way to the little Une children, how sad.
Don't struggle, Midii. There's more you need to accept.
Firstly, do you honestly think you're a self-made woman who rose above all this by sheer will?
Did you think it was luck or chance that the Alliance came to you with those transmitters and such a high level of cred? Did You honestly imagine they'd trust you when you're best attribute was lying? They told you to keep up the story of 'supporting a sick father' because they knew you were more convincing with fiction than truth.
I was 12 then and risked losing everything trying to convince my superiors that my 8 year old half sister could earn her keep. And don't mistake my intentions; I did it for the boys. The only thing I knew I could count on you for was taking care of them with the creds.
I'll admit it now. You've made me proud. You took down entrenched rebel units with ease when no one else could even get close. Nanashi told me about you taking out his entire unit in '90. That was truly a masterpiece worthy of our blood name. You've truly blossomed as the finest blend of Father's mind and your mother's cold ambition.
They're both here, Father's protégé Heero and Trowa, or 'No-Name' Nanashi as you knew him. They both took parts in the spectacular farce we used to slacken your defenses. Father's boys are in your ranks, are they not? I admit I haven't seen even pictures of my half-brothers in years. This will certainly be a fine reunion all around indeed."
Midii had ceased to struggle some time ago. Now she only shivered as the impact of the words sank deeper into her mind filling the gaps in her past. The knife and forearm eased their pressure. Behind her outside her current range of vision, a comm-screen activated bearing the voice and image of Relena Peacecraft.
She spoke with dignified calm explaining the insurgence and subsequent defeat of the rebel militia 'Epyon de Telos'. Images of the forces gathering around the castle and the removal of injured rebels were being televised around the world.
"It's over, Midii. 'Epyon de Telos' will now be nothing more than a footnote in a new age of peace…
…and I think I have just the place for a skilled prisoner like you to go."
Midii could take it no more. She made one last desperate attempt to strike back at her captor.
Her reward was a knuckled punch in the side so harsh it emptied her lungs of air and sent the world spinning into blackness.
The former leader of the rebels slumped to the floor unconscious.
"Welcome to the Preventers, Little Sister."