December 5th. The base, a flimsy shield against the encroaching darkness, was choked with grotesque Christmas cheer. Tinsel and plastic smiles mocked the raw, festering wounds of the personnel. For me, Lydia, the "holiday spirit" was a relic, burned away by the acid of my past. A monster born of a broken home, of a mother's mental ruin, and a father's repeated, brutal violations. I was an ember of hatred, fueled by the sickening envy of happy families. Survival was a razor's edge—prostitution, desperation, a life sculpted in the unforgiving clay of living hell.
The cold, metallic air of the base was a constant reminder of the beast I had become. Heading toward the simulation room, the illusion of solitude was shattered. "There you are Lydia, I was looking for you," Sam's voice, irritatingly cheerful, cut through the gloom.
"What's wrong, Sam?" I snapped, the politeness a brittle veneer.
"Alleyne and Markus are looking for you, Lydia. It's something important," Sam replied.
I followed him to the lounge, a sickening tableau of forced camaraderie. Mark, Alleyne, and others, including Barry Abbot, were defiling a massive Christmas tree. Alleyne, the fragile thing, beckoned me closer. Then, a female personnel with a camera intruded, demanding a forced memory. The flash captured a lie: just the remnants of the Black Dog Squad—Sam, Mark, Alleyne, and me, dragged into the frame with the reluctant Lilith Aiden by Barry Abbot. Some fools even whispered that I looked like Alleyne's mother, a cruel irony for this killer.
The false peace was incinerated by the klaxons. All personnel, summoned to the briefing room. Major Michael Colmatta delivered the orders from the higher-ups, a call to a slaughterhouse: attack the Zeon large base in California. A combined Federation force from all of North America would converge on this Zeon launching site, the objective—to crush them and seize the base.
The grim news continued: Aaron would be there, a shadow I couldn't escape, as every personnel was being deployed to encircle the base. Mobile Suits would march to the site, the warship Medea guarded by the FF/B-2 Fly Manta bombers. And, Renato Germi was absent, Major Colmatta reluctantly taking the reins of the Black Dog Squad. The mission—a descent into total war—began tomorrow. A momentary flicker of hope in the darkness: Beam Weapons had arrived from Jaburo, a brutal Christmas present. The Major warned us: this was a real battlefield, a 50/50 chance of life or death. The remaining beam weapons were desperately needed in space for the assault on Zeon's 'A Boa Qu' fortress.
Sam and Mark dragged me to the hangar, a cathedral of impending destruction. The beam weapons—from the 'BLASH XB-M-79E Beam Rifle' to the 'BR-M-79C-1 Beam Spray Gun'—were finally ready. The spray gun was familiar, but the beam rifle, previously too much to handle, called to the monster in me. I clawed my way into the cockpit of my modified GM Spartan. The beam rifle, now adjusted, no longer overwhelmed me; I could manage a normal or sniping shot. But the rapid-fire, the blood-soaked frenzy, was reserved only for the Beam Spray Gun.
After the test, I saw Sam, his eyes burning with a zealot's fire, maintaining his Gundam Ground Type. He wanted to be Amuro Ray, the legendary killer of the RX-78-2. He spoke of Amuro heading to A Boa Qu, of the war being the biggest, most brutal invasion of the California Base. We were not soldiers; we were hungry wolves, ready for the blood sport. Then, Aaron's call, a fragile tether to a sanity I barely possessed. His voice, a temporary balm. We would meet again, he said, in the same field of slaughter—"just like a date, but in war". He warned of the infamous Zeon Aces, and the possibility of confronting Ederich again. His final words, a chilling promise: stay alive for a real date after the war. I echoed the grotesque vow.
The call ended, and the fear, cold and sharp, pierced through my resolve. Sam and Aaron's words echoed: alive or killed. The thought of leaving Alleyne—the child they saw as my son, the innocent face I sometimes tended—unleashed a primal fear of leaving behind the last vestiges of my humanity. I sought out Barry Abbot, demanding to know what it meant to be human. Barry's words were a mirror reflecting my monstrous soul: my past, my anger, was the wild beast driving me. Like Lilith, who lost everything in the colony drop, I was broken. He saw it, the homicidal maniac waiting to emerge, but claimed that with Aaron and Alleyne, I had changed a little.
"If I hadn't met XiangLei, Aaron, or Alleyne," I thought, the words a silent poison, "I'd be a killing machine like the rest of the Black Dog Squad, like Renato".
The day of the purge. December 6th, 06:00 AM. The base pulsed with a sick hype. I discarded the pathetic minigun, embracing the new beam spray gun. Sam took his beam rifle, Mark his beam sniper and pistol.
General Revil, a ghost of military glory, delivered a sermon of death and conquest.
<"People, the day is finally come to our battle... We will fight to destroy Zeon forces in California Base and we will take that base... we will push those Zeon from this earth! For federation!">
The roar of the mobilized suits—Guntank, GM, GM Cannon—was deafening. My GM Spartan was loaded into the Medea. Barry Abbot approached, asking if I was nervous. "No," I told him, the truth a raw wound. I was excited to destroy them, to bathe in the slaughter, to possibly erase my criminal stain. He wanted me to be a soldier, not a homicidal maniac.
At 07:00 AM, the convoy began its deadly crawl towards the Zeon base.
Inside the Medea's cockpit, the air was thick with morbid anticipation. Mark and Sam tried to shatter the tension with forced banter.
"Stay alive, Lydia. Alleyne will be devestated if you're gone." Mark said, his voice strained.
"I won't plan to die Mark. I have a purpose to live." I hissed.
"Let's wipe these Zeon fools and come back, Lydia," Sam added, teasing Alleyne about our 'mother-son' connection. We were laughing, but beneath it, the cold knowledge: 50-50 survival against Zeon's terrors. My purpose to live: Aaron smith.
The siren's shriek signaled entry into the Zeon California Base. The hatch opened, and we plunged into total war. It was a blood-soaked nightmare, worse than Tir Na Nog. Fly Manta bombers were shredded by Zeon fire. My beam spray gun unleashed a torrent of destructive fire on Magellans, Zaku IIs, Doms, and Goufs. Sam's beam rifle tore a Dom apart. Mark struggled with his sniper shot, but cleaved through a Zaku II.
The rest of the Black Dog Squad charged in, their beam weapons spitting fire, fueled by psychotic glee.
"GYAHAHAHA!! Take that you low life zeek shit!!".
"COME ON ZEEK!! THIS ALL YER GOT?!".
"What's wrong ya Zeek?! Yer too scared to fight us?! HAHAHAHA!!".
We were killing machines, monsters—and they were enjoying it. Renato's presence didn't matter; the squad lived for the slaughter. We were monsters and homicidal maniacs. The beam rifles were a feast for our bloodlust. Then, we dashed towards the launching site. Zeon Zaku IIs blocked us, melting under Sam and Mark's beam sabers. Then, a flicker—a Zeon soldier, armed with an RPG, aiming at Mark. I didn't hesitate. My beam spray gun evaporated the soldier; only smoke and a scorch mark remained. We were too late. The Gaw and the warship from Tir Na Nog had already fled.
"We're too late," Sam muttered.
"But, We got the base right?, That's the main objective by the higher-ups order." Mark countered, his words hollow. "But gladly, we didn't face Ederich in this battle." Mark joked, a sick attempt at levity.
"Maybe he ran, into that Gaw." Sam laughed. "Easy win for us."
We were horrifically wrong. A sudden, cold shot of death pierced Sam's Mobile Suit, right through the cockpit. A horror, Sam's machine impaled on the building behind him. Nguyen Sammy Chang Hoi was K.I.A. "Mark, get away!" I screamed, the sound of Sam's final explosion ringing in my ears. Mark found the shooter: 2000m away, a long sniper rifle held in one hand. Ederich von Nacht, the fool of Zeon, in his chilling Green-blue Kämpfer with a red shoulder.
"I knew you'd come. This time I'm not holding back, Black Dog Squad." Ederich's voice crackled over the open channel.
"Ederich!!" I yelled, shock and pure rage seizing me.
"That bastard is still here?!" Mark was stunned.
The Kämpfer threw his sniper rifle and charged, a blur of motion, faster than anything we'd faced. Our beam weapons were useless against his inhuman speed; he shot us with a Bazooka, mocking our every move. We had to switch: solid weapons. I grabbed the Minigun; Mark took the Hyper Bazooka and beam hand gun. We fired; Ederich dodged, a phantom taunting us. The fight became a brutal dance of frustration, Ederich hiding behind buildings, burning through our precious ammo. "LYDIA, BEHIND YOU!!" Mark's primal scream. The Kämpfer, a beam saber ignited, was inches from my cockpit. Then, a miracle of war: a rocket shot, a sudden halt to Ederich's death stroke. The savior: a Black Gundam Ground Type. Aaron Smith.
"You okay, Lydia?" Aaron asked, his presence a dark, reassuring anchor.
"If you hadn't saved us, I wouldn't see you again, how do you know I'm here?" I breathed.
"My sense, Lydia. You're not a wild animal like the rest of the Black Dog Squad," he replied. Markus interrupted, a crude jolt back to the killing. "I'll deal with him. You two take the weapon pack from my back," Aaron commanded.
The pack contained a 180mm Cannon for Mark and the Beam Rifle I had just tested for me. Aaron engaged the Kämpfer, beam saber clashing against beam saber, a duel of shadows. He gave the orders: melee attack to slow Ederich, Mark to find the perfect shot, and I was to prevent his escape. Their sabers met again.
"So... you're a newtype, huh. Exciting," Ederich hissed.
"I won't hold back!! The fool of Zeon!!" Aaron roared back.
Newtypes. The horrifying realization that these two were something more than human, their battle a spectacle beyond our comprehension. Ederich ran again. I unleashed my last clip of the minigun, chasing him. He met my fire with a blast from a shotgun, a spread of pure, paralyzing pain. Aaron covered me, a shield against the shotgun's spread.
Finally, in an open killing field, they clashed. Aaron maneuvered Ederich into a trap. "NOW!!" Aaron yelled. Mark's cannon fired, not at Ederich, but at a gas tank behind him. The resulting explosion crippled the Kämpfer. My moment of vengeance had arrived. I charged with my Beam Gauntlet, managing only to slice his left arm, but the damage from the blast made him unstable. I brought the Beam Rifle up, pointing the snout of death at Ederich's machine. He opened the channel, revealing his face, a raw, injured mess. His left eye was blind.
"...I lost, eh... tell me... Who are you..." Ederich asked, his cockpit glowing red with a feral light.
"I'm Lydia Mercer, a criminal. I'm here to avenge Sam's death," I spat.
"...Lose to a woman, eh... I'm Ederich von Nacht. I'll remember your name...".
Before I could pull the trigger, the scream of "MAJOR EDERICH!!" filled the air. Three Dom units arrived, spitting Bazooka fire to cover Ederich's escape. They dragged him to the last Gaw warship, fleeing into the sky. Aaron ordered me to let them go. Mark and I went back for Sam. All that remained was the burning, scrapped legs of his Gundam Ground Type.
Evening fell. The Federation had the base; Zeon was broken. But the victory tasted like ash. We had lost so many, including Sam, murdered by Ederich. I climbed out of my GM Spartan and walked towards the smoking scrap of Sam's machine. He was gone, my best partner. Aaron approached, his hand on my shoulder.
"He was my teammate. The one who customized my GM Spartan. He wanted to pilot a Gundam in a big war... now he's gone," I whispered, looking at the machine Sam had built for me.
"He was a great mechanic, Lydia. I can tell. Your GM Spartan feels different," Aaron said, taking my hand. "I'm glad I saved you".
"Thank you, Aaron. We wouldn't be here if you're not saving me." I conceded. The promise of a future date felt impossible now. "I'm sorry, Aaron. We have to postpone the Date until the war is over," I said.
"I understand, Lydia. A proper date, after the war," he vowed, holding my hand, a pact sealed in the grime of battle.
The California Base was ours, but the war, the true, brutal war, was far from over. Zeon forces still lurked on Earth, and the final, apocalyptic objective—'A Boa Qu'—loomed in space. My criminal record, the target I aimed for, remained un-cleared. The hunt for Noisy-fairy continued.
To be continued.