Panzer shook her head, clearing it of the red haze of fury and temporarily getting the scent of organic blood from her intakes. It came back full force when she was still, but she didn't mind. She looked around at the desolate landscape; her weapons had just cleared what was once a bustling metropolis of people into a living nightmare-if anyone had been unfortunate enough to survive. The sky, now blood red, held no answers as to why this had happened for the few that had made it, looking to the heavens and wailing in grief. As Panzer watched, the humans began to fight among each other, even so soon after this disaster. She watched their arguing become increasingly heated, her optics suggesting no emotion as the humans went from talking to yelling, yelling to screaming, screaming to fighting. They went at each other with knives, scrap metal, anything they could find, and so wrapped up in their fighting they were they didn't even see her coming, until it was too late. One shot finished the pitiful group, and she moved on. The next thing her eyes settled upon almost brought her rage back full force, and despite her keeping it in control, she growled. It was the whole reason she'd destroyed this place, the thing she never wanted to see again. The thing that, no matter what weapons she used, no matter how hard she tried, she could not destroy. As that thought hit her, the rage bubbled up in her throat, expressing itself in a low snarl. She paced around it, occasionally tossing it a cold glare, but knowing that wouldn't affect it. She stopped right in front of it, kneeling to read the letters imprinted in the metal:
GP0-8 - PNZR Her old model number, from when she was going under the guise of an experimental prototype. This was the tank that had been her second place of birth, her first moments as a Gundam had been in this tank. She growled again, punching the glass. Even that was indestructible! Nearly four feet of carbon-reinforced glass separated her from that confinement, but for once she wasn't glad of it. She wanted to pry the damned thing open, to see how much smaller she had been then than she was now. But that glass separated her, and no matter how much C4 or other explosives she used, that glass would last. It was, in a way, just like her. No matter how hard the humans tried, they could never fully destroy her. She'd always find a way back, even if it was only haunting the memories of those who'd seen her increasingly frequent attacks. At the present moment, most of the North American continent was a wasteland, she was standing in the ruins of a research lab located in Washington, D.C. Expelling a heavy gust of air through her intakes, something humans would recognize as a sign of depression or frustration, she stood to her full height again. There was nothing she could really do to destroy that tank, but she could keep a note of its location. Noting the exact coordinates in her memory, she moved off, her red eyes gleaming through the dusty red-orange haze of the ruined city. The scientists were still hiding, she'd only recorded the deaths of about forty-nine percent of them in her past attacks, ten percent more in this most recent rampage. This is not over...