In a dimly lit bar tucked away in a rundown corner of Los Angeles, a group of Zeon soldiers gathered. Outside, the neon lights flickered in the rain, casting an eerie glow through the fogged windows. Inside, laughter and chatter filled the air as soldiers reminisced about old battles and mocked their Earth Federation foes over drinks. The mood was relaxed, almost casual, but the tension underneath was palpable.
Zeon Soldier 1: (leaning back in his chair, a smirk on his face) The Earth Federation Forces? Those guys don't have what it takes. Weak as they come, always scrambling to catch up to us. They don't stand a chance.
The other soldiers around him chuckled in agreement, raising their glasses. But amid the laughter, one of them, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down the side of his face, remained silent. He sat further back, his eyes clouded with a memory that refused to fade. As the mocking continued, he finally slammed his drink down on the table, the sound cutting through the noise. The room went quiet, all eyes turning to him.
Zeon Veteran: (leaning forward, his voice low but cutting) No... you're wrong.
The smirking soldier frowned, confused by the sudden shift in mood.
Zeon Soldier 1: (raising an eyebrow) What are you talking about, old man? The Federation's been nothing but troublemakers with their mass-produced junk. You act like they've ever come close to taking us down.
The veteran's gaze hardened as he stood up, his shadow looming over the table. He took a deep breath, as if the weight of his words pressed heavily on his chest. His voice carried a somber gravity, each word laced with a memory that still haunted him.
Zeon Veteran: (coldly, his tone unwavering) There was a mobile suit… one that almost killed one of our best.
The smirking soldier's expression faltered, his bravado slipping. The other soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the shift in the room. The rain outside grew heavier, beating against the window like a drum.
Zeon Soldier 2: (leaning in, voice barely a whisper) You mean...
The veteran's eyes flashed, a storm of emotions brewing beneath his hardened exterior. He looked directly at the soldier who spoke, nodding slowly, as if uttering a truth too bitter to swallow.
Zeon Veteran: (grim, with a hint of respect) Yes... the Red Comet himself. Char Aznable. He was almost taken down... by the White Devil.
The name hung in the air like a thunderclap. The laughter was gone, replaced by the uneasy murmur of shifting chairs and the creak of the bar door swinging in the wind. The other soldiers stared at the veteran in disbelief, their bravado crumbling beneath the weight of the revelation.
Zeon Soldier 1: (shaking his head, trying to regain his composure) The White Devil... You're talking about that Federation pilot, right? The one in the Gundam?
The veteran didn't respond at first, his mind lost in the memory of that fateful battle, the flashes of beam sabers, the near misses, and the desperate struggle. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.
Zeon Veteran: (distant, haunted) It wasn't like anything we'd ever seen. Char fought him, pushed himself to the limit... but that pilot, that machine... It was different. We thought we had the upper hand until that damn Gundam showed up.
The soldiers around him shifted uneasily, the gravity of the story sinking in. The smirking soldier who had spoken earlier looked down, his previous arrogance slipping away as the reality of the war's dangers settled in.
Zeon Soldier 2: (hesitant, breaking the silence) Maybe... maybe the Earth Federation's not as weak as we thought.
The veteran nodded slowly, his gaze turning toward the rain-soaked window, where the lights of Los Angeles blurred in the downpour.
Zeon Veteran: (softly, almost to himself) The White Devil... it's a reminder that this war isn't over. And that we're not invincible.
Silence fell over the bar once more, the weight of their enemy's strength lingering in the air like the storm outside.
Zeon Veteran: (with a slight smirk) Forget all that for a moment. I heard a rumor... is it true that Garma is getting married?
Zeon Soldier 1 perked up at the change in topic, grinning as he leaned forward over the table.
Zeon Soldier 1: (with enthusiasm) Yeah, that's right! He's fallen head over heels for that girl, Icelina Esconbach. Guess even royalty can't escape love.
Zeon Soldier 2, leaning against the bar, rolled his eyes and snorted dismissively.
Zeon Soldier 2: (mocking, shaking his head) Yeah, real sweet, isn't it? Garma, the pride of the Zabi family, getting all soft for some Earth girl. Kind of pathetic if you ask me.
The other soldiers chuckled, but the veteran remained quiet, his expression unreadable. As the laughter died down, Zeon Soldier 2 looked around, suddenly realizing that someone was missing.
Zeon Soldier 2: (frowning, looking around the room) Hey, wait a minute... where's our favorite janitor? You know, he's always hanging around when we start talking about stuff like this.
Zeon Soldier 1: (leaning in conspiratorially, his voice lowering with a smirk) What if our favorite janitor was an Earth Federation spy, huh? I mean, it's always the ones you least expect, right?
Before the other soldiers could react, the veteran suddenly rose from his chair and smacked Zeon Soldier 1 across the back of the head, hard enough to make him wince. The soldier rubbed the spot, looking sheepish as the veteran glared down at him.
Zeon Veteran: (sternly, voice full of irritation) You idiot. You really think a guy in his late twenties, who can't even pilot a mobile suit, is an E.F.F. spy? He probably doesn't even know what half our equipment does.
As if on cue, the bar door swung open, and a familiar figure stepped inside, shaking off the rain from his worn out jacket. It was Seth, the janitor slim, a bit scruffy, with a mop in hand as usual. He looked around, noticing the soldiers staring at him.
Seth: (raising an eyebrow, sounding curious) What are you guys talking about?
Zeon Soldier 1 quickly sat up straighter, trying to cover up the topic with a forced laugh, his face flushing slightly from the veteran's earlier scolding.
Zeon Soldier 1: (grinning nervously) Hey, Seth! We were just... uh, talking about pizza. Yeah, pizza! Heh, heh...
Seth stared at him blankly for a moment, then tilted his head.
Seth: (confused, scratching his head) What?
Zeon Soldier 1: (still trying to maintain the charade, nodding rapidly) Yeah, you know, like what toppings are best and all that. Right, guys?
Seth: (skeptical) A fucking...Pizza really?
The other soldiers exchanged glances, trying to stifle their laughter, while Seth looked at them like they were up to something suspicious.
Seth: (shrugging) Huh. Alright, whatever you say. Just keep the mess to a minimum. I'm not cleaning up after another one of your 'discussions.'
Seth wandered off to continue his work, and Zeon Soldier 1 let out a sigh of relief, rubbing the spot where the veteran had punched him. As he does, the Zeon veteran shoots a glare at Zeon Soldier 1, who quickly averts his gaze, still rubbing his sore head.
Zeon Veteran: (muttering under his breath) Next time, keep your wild ideas to yourself.
Zeon Soldier 1: (grumbling) Pizza… Great save, right?
Zeon Soldier 2: (laughing) Yeah, real smooth. Now we just gotta figure out where that pizza's coming from.
Seth was in the storage room, gathering his cleaning supplies a mop, a bucket, and some rags. The bar was quiet except for the occasional murmur from the other soldiers, and he was ready to start his shift. Just as he was about to grab a bottle of cleaner, one of the younger Zeon soldiers poked his head into the room, a slightly anxious look on his face.
Zeon Soldier 3: (clearing his throat) Hey, Seth, your wife's calling. You might want to take this one.
Seth's eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly put down the cleaning supplies, excitement flickering across his face.
Seth: (almost in disbelief) Really!?
Without waiting for a response, Seth hurried out of the storage room and made his way to a small, private corner where the communication lines were set up. Minutes later, he was on the call, the screen flickering before showing the image of his wife, Iria Solari known as the Red Wolf Alpha. Even through the static, her presence was imposing, her eyes sharp and alert, a contrast to Seth's casual demeanor.
Seth: (smiling warmly, relieved to see her) Iria! How's the mission in Romania? Everything going okay?
Iria: (leaning back, her voice steady but confident) Well, the Earth Federation Forces tried to ambush the Stein Battalion, but don't worry. We've already handled itcleaned them out before they knew what hit them.
Seth nodded, relieved but not entirely surprised by her efficiency. He admired her strength and capability, even if their lives had taken very different paths.
Iria: (softening, her tone turning more personal) By the way, how are you and our son doing?
Seth: (smiling wistfully) I'm fine, Iria. And our son he's doing great. The nanny's been taking good care of him. He's growing up so fast, you know?
There was a pause on the other end of the call, and Seth noticed a shift in Iria's expression. She seemed more serious, almost hesitant something he wasn't used to seeing in her.
Iria: (voice lowering, almost hesitant) Seth, can we have a real talk?
Seth blinked, surprised by the sudden change in tone, but he nodded.
Seth: (genuine curiosity) Sure, what's on your mind?
Iria: (sighing, as if trying to choose her words carefully) Seth, you know you're rich... we both are. But I've always wondered why did you choose to work as a janitor? With everything you could do, everything you have... why that?
Seth's expression darkened for a moment, his jaw tightening as if a painful memory had been stirred. He glanced away from the screen, a conflicted look crossing his face. Before Iria could say anything else, he reached over and abruptly ended the call, the screen going dark with a sharp click.
Back in Romania, Iria stared at the now-blank screen, irritation flashing in her eyes. She muttered under her breath, clearly frustrated by the sudden end to their conversation, her questions left unanswered.
Iria: (muttering to herself) Seth...
Back to Seth as he let out a long sigh, feeling the frustration of leaving Iria's question unanswered. As he was lost in thought, the sharp sound of footsteps approached, followed by a voice that cut through his introspection.
Garma: (shouting, irritated) Why are you sitting there? Aren't you supposed to be working, Mr. Daltun?
Seth jolted upright, quickly turning around to see Garma Zabi, standing with his arms crossed and an air of authority. Inwardly, Seth couldn't help but roll his eyes, thinking to himself.
Seth's thoughts: (annoyed) This little shit just had to interrupt my dramatic moment, huh?
But before he could voice any excuse, Garma's expression shifted into something more calculating, and he spoke with a hint of a smirk.
Garma: (casual, yet serious) You know what? How about you come with me for a moment, Mr. Daltun. I've got an upcoming mission, and I think you'll be... useful.
Seth blinked, genuinely taken aback by the unexpected offer.
Seth: (confused, raising a hand in protest) But sir, I'm just a janitor.
Garma's smirk only widened as he turned on his heel, motioning for Seth to follow him.
Garma: (grinning) Exactly. Now, come with me!
Seth hesitated but ultimately stood up, following Garma as they began walking down the long, sterile corridors of the Zeon base. The sound of their footsteps echoed against the concrete walls, and curiosity gnawed at Seth until he couldn't keep quiet anymore.
Seth: (glancing sideways at Garma, curious) What's this mission you're talking about, sir?
Garma's eyes glinted with a mix of excitement and something more dangerous as he kept his gaze ahead, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Garma: (leaning in slightly, his voice dropping) We're going to steal something from an E.F.F. facility. They've got a special project housed there in the Philippines, in Davao... the Circe Unit.
Seth raised an eyebrow, feeling a flicker of confusion mixed with a surge of adrenaline.
Seth: (puzzled, trying to keep his tone casual) Going to steal what, exactly?
Garma stopped abruptly, turning to face Seth with a confident, almost reckless grin.
Garma: (smirking, with a hint of mischief) We're going to steal their mobile suit.
To Be Continue...