It was a large room, and like all the others, was spotless to the extent it was scary. Bare too, stripped of all furniture and decorations except for the one large oak desk in front of the wall oppositing the door. The air-conditioner was humming along quietly but most of the room's occupants were sweating heavily. The entire scene seemed like an execution in process.

The loud flipping of paper were a torture to the large group of children in the room. The man in the grey suit who sat at the desk had his legs propped up over it, and read through the thin brown file like it was some fashion magazine. Every time he turned a page, it was either a shaking of head or audio confirmation to one of his assistants standing by the table, and the room's other occupants decreased by one. After a long time, there were only two kids left, standing in the middle of the room and trying not to look at anything in particular. The one on the right was a thin boy with short blond hair, and the other one was a girl with brown hair.

"The last one's a no," the man talked to himself, as he placed the file down and rubbed his eyes out of sheer tiredness. As his silent assistants stepped forward, the child on the right finally broke down and cried.

"No..." The men approached him but he stepped backward in panic," Nooo!" Just as the small boy was dragged out of the spacious room by the ever silent and professional men, he flung his arm wildly, desperate to grab hold of something, any thing. "Trisha! Don't let them do this to me!" he screamed at the girl, who turned around and looked at him for a moment, with her dark brown eyes.

Devoid of all emotion.

Pain. Crash Tricre opened his eyes and felt the familiar stabbing pain on his left arm. He focused his blurry eyes on it and saw that his right hand was gripping that arm so tightly, it turned purple. Prying the fingers off, Crash looked around him and saw that he was in some kind of a small hospital ward. After killing Cartens, the aftermath of the phobia, adrenaline rush and shock was too much for him and he had passed out.

A tall bespectacled man in a doctor's white coat sat in the chair next to the door, reading a book. Sensing that Crash had arisen, he closed the book and turned around," You're awake." Then pressed a small button on his table.

Instantly cautious and alert, Crash asked," Who are you? What am I doing here?"

"I think he will tell that," came the reply, just as the metal door slid open and two men walked in. One of them was a young man with a wild mass of dark green hair, while the other had blond hair, wears sunglasses and was far taller than everyone else in the room, he looked about middle-aged.

"Thank you, Techcs," the taller man said to the doctor.

"Hey kid," the young man looked him over curiously," What happened in that town there?"

Crash remembered the incident and winced at the memory. Suddenly, he had an idea of who these mysterious men were. "Are you... Garrod Ran?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yup, got me there," the young man grinned and scratched his head," Didn't know I was so famous, though."

"And you must be Jamil Neate." The older man nodded. So he was the Seventh War ace pilot!

"Well, well, it seems like the kid left out our doctor Techcs Farzenbarg." Garrod laughed at the doctor, who scowled.

Crash was elated, he had never expected this. Dreamed maybe, but never really thought about being able to converse with these people of legendary status. Much less have them crowded around him in a hospital bed. I've died and gone to hero heaven, he thought happily, before choking on the 'died' word. Too many he knew had.

The story was short, and Jamil listened to all of it silently, having his arms folded across his chest. Garrod, on the other hand, tried to look as though he understood.

"Hmmm," Jamil stroked his chin after Crash finished," So in your opinion Cartens Vorzmov was behind all these."

"Damned right he is, sir."

"Cartens Vorzmov? Isn't he that agent we were tracking?" Garrod was eager to show he knew something.

At Crash's bewildered face, Garrod further explained," We were tracking him to that town you lived in, that's why we arrived in time to stop that unknown gundam pilot from killing you altogether."

"Not in time. My town was destroyed," Crash shot back, obviously angry. If only...if they had just arrived thirty minutes earlier... Unable to control himself, Crash sobbed on the white bed. They shouldn't have died.

"By the way," Jamil broke in, interrupting the silence," Why did Cartens order the destruction of your town? From what we know, he had never engaged in anything remotely violent. Something scared him in that town."

Crash tried hard to recall anything but came up with a blank," Maybe it's related to my father. That's the purpose of him in town."

"No," the door slid open and a young woman walked in," It is you."

* * *

The comms chirped, screaming at him furious to answer the incoming transmission. Seanelius Winner waited for a moment, staring dispassionately at the screen and thinking.

"Seanelius," the caller warned, forcing the transmission in," You've been acting very unfocused and distracted the since that last mission. We are not pleased."

"What now?" he yawned," Another one?" So fast?

"Yes. Two rats we left for dead have returned home."

"Why not the others? I'm tired."

"Officially, the others are still... occupied. Personally," the man smiled," I thought this might cheer you up."

Cheer me up? What the hell does he take me as? Seanelius wondered, I do not take joy in killing unarmed people, not like Cartens Vorzmov, and we know where he ended up. Am I really just a tool for their killings? Then he mentally kicked himself. That was what he had been raised and trained to do.

"The Freeden IV is somewhere around that area as well. I can tell the top that you were attacked and had to defend yourself, no?"

Now this is getting interesting," Yes, thank you."

* * *

"Me?"

"Yes," she stared hard at him," You."

"Ah, excuse me," Garrod sensed the tightening situation," Tiffa, what are you doing here?"

The woman with tied, long, dark violet hair that flowed all the way down her waist turned to Jamil, ignoring him," Jamil, Crash Tricre is related to WORLD."

Crash was further confused," World?" Who was this woman and why did she say that? He did not know... Hey! How the hell did she know my name? This is starting to get creepy.

"Not world, W.O.R.L.D.. W-O-R-L-D," Jamil was clearly taken back by her words as well, but quickly braced himself and took a whole new look of Crash," It is the organisation we believe Cartens Vorzmov was working for."

"How did she read my mind?"

"She's a Newtype."

"...Uh, okay."

"He should stay," Tiffa told Jamil again. Funny how she seemed to easily make him eat out of her hand though, thought Crash.

Jamil turned towards Crash, who shrugged, "Well, I have no where else to live anymore." And made a sorrowful face. Who wouldn't want to be here? He may even get to see the gundams! His life has taken yet another 360 degrees change, just like six years ago.

There was another war just five years back, between the federation and the colonies for yet another time. However, this battle was secret and kept out of public knowledge, thus not too many people know about it. The after-war lands were filled with stretchs of deserts and communications were severly lacking, thought Crash, no wonder any war in space after that was not known. After two conspirors killed the leaders of the both sides, the war seemed unstoppable and both sides were about to be wiped out before Jamil Neate, with gundams and Lancerow Dawell's army, managed to stop the madmen and the war. After that, because the main propagators of the war were gone (more like vaporised), there was very little reason to continue the fight. The usually peace-loving colonies made the first move towards an alliance, and the resources-starved New federation accepted. As a result, the non-violent and peaceful future Jamil Neate envisioned was within reach. He and Lancerow then set up the Peace Corps, of which the primary purpose was to keep troublemakers in check and prevent the possibility of warfare. Funded directly out of the federation's and colonies' pockets, that left Jamil with more than enough time to continue his search for Newtypes.

However, a throughout search of the New federation's Intelligence revealed more secrets about its workings and relations and the Frost brothers than previously known. The data aqquired also explained how the Frost brothers, who were rejectees from the Newtype labs and non-certified Newtypes, were in possession of super-rare gundams that appeared to be specially designed for them and have a satellite cannon, which they are unable to operate until interfering with DOME's satellite systems. The Intelligence had an ally called W.O.R.L.D., which nobody knew existed until then. Its middlemen were the Frost brothers and gave the Intelligence designs for every new mobile suit they had, because there were no man of talents left in the federation. Even the shematics of gundam DX, a gundam that existed as rumours and ultimately legend in the local populace, was provided by W.O.R.L.D.. Further investigation revealed that the war started by the Frost brothers were a plan of W.O.R.L.D.'s. But what the plan really was nobody knew. Worrying that this organisation might be up to something again, Freeden IV, the ship he was in now, was constructed as a mirror-image of the original Freeden, only much larger and advanced. Most of Freeden's crew also reallocated in here and took off to uncover W.O.R.L.D....

Crash stretched himself and laid on on the bed. The material Jamil gave him was intriging but made for an exhausting read. History was definitely not one of Crash's likes. Drifting off to sleep, he wondered if he would ever be able to put the past behind him. But some people always have to dig 'em up.

The ship's alarms went, sirens blaring loudly elsewhere but were especially muffled in the ward for the comfort of the patients. Crash, however, learned his lesson once and picked it up, almost leaping from bed immediately and sprinting down towards the door. Oh God please, he prayed, irrational as his justifications were, everyone I knew were taken away from me, please please please do not let anything happen to these people.

When he reached the bridge, he found Garrod and the rest of the crew, and Jamil in the admiral's seat. The screens showed a red-white gundam - the Airmaster. Feeling an impulse to vomit, Crash sank down onto the ground on his knees. Jamil noticed him and ordered him to get back to the ward, but Crash shook his head and looked on.

Another young man with short, cropped blond hair retorted loudly for everyone to hear," It's an Airmaster! Why the hell is it here!?"

However, the enigmatic gundam was not interested in the Freeden IV at the moment. It was chasing a speeding car, which was trying to escape. Large puffs of red dust flew behind the vehicle, caused by the violent friction between the wheels and the hard ground, as it swirved and skidded to avoid the beams from its pursuer.

"It's Olga!" Jamil sprang up from his seat, as everyone else jumped, too. Olga? He's one of the Frost brothers! But, Crash thought about the stuff he had just read, he was officially recognised as dead. So this was the man who gave them headaches years ago, by instigating the next war. The screen magnified to display that the driver was, indeed, Olga Frost, and the man by his side should be Shagia Frost.

"Another plot?" One of the crewmembers asked.

Tiffa shook her head," No, their lives are really in danger."

Garrod quickly ran to the door, supposedly to try to save the brothers. No matter how much they had done before, the crew of Freeden IV had no everlasting misgivings about them.

"No."

"What?" Garrod flipped around on his heels and looked at Tiffa, she was not the cold, calculative type! But well, the brothers nearly did kill her once anyway... "Why not?"

She pointed at the gundam Airmaster," He's waiting for you. You must not go."

From past experience, Garrod Ran knew better than to argue with her. He stopped and walked slowly back, shrugging his shoulders looking down at the thought of missing a fight. Tiffa, sensing his sorrow, patted him on his head and that perked him up. Crash could almost laugh, watching two grown adults behaving like children.

"Oh well, then," the man with cropped blond hair sighed," I guess I'll have to go."

"Damned right, Witz," Garrod teased, then appeared serious," Watch out, he's almost as good as me."

"That should make it a piece of cake," Witz laughed out loud, before running away to escape from Garrod's wrath.

Not long after, a blue-white Airmaster lookalike took off from the Freeden IV and flew towards the other Airmaster.

"Another one?" Crash thought out loud. He only knew that Gundams were very rare but, it's like he's been seeing gundams after gundams lately.

"Not another one," Jamil explained, "Witz Sou is piloting the Airmaster Burst, it has more armour and mounted guns than the original one."

The car finally got hit by a beam blast and flipped over to the side. The other gundam then spotted his arrival and transformed in mid-air, firing a few beam shots directly at him. Witz steered to the left to avoid them and transformed as well. In a few seconds, the fight turned into a cowboy cross-fire between the two Airmasters, each firing a two beams and thrusting off to avoid those coming from the other.

"It's a draw." Jamil commented dryly. It was not possible to resolve the duel quickly and, in the end, whoever had more ammo will win. He was too absorbed in the fight to notice that Crash was sneaking towards the door and dashing for the MS bay after that.

There was only one mobile suit left after Roybea Loy, the gundam Leopard Destroy pilot gave up the mercenary life. That one was the gundam Garrod Ran used to ward off the attack from the enemy Airmaster the first time. If I get to it, I may be able to help Witz. While Crash activated the elevator and waited for the ascent, a few technicians noticed him and sounded the alarm.

"Some kid took off with the Gundam X!"

"Get the bridge! Call Jamil! Anyone!"

"Hey kid! Get off that ramp! You're not authorised to pilot the gundam!"

Ignoring the screams, Crash opened the cockpit and jumped inside. It's not so much different from the other mobile suit cocpits, he thought. Not surprising. A gundam is reowned for it's weapons, armour and speed, not how cool its cockpit looks. Flipping some startup switches, Crash momentarily felt a twitch in his hands, and butterflies started flying around in his stomach. The phobia is back. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He had to conquer it, there was no other alternative. When the systems are up, Crash opened his eyes and stepped on the thrusters.

"What?" Jamil was not as astonished as he should be," That kid took off with GX?"

"Ha, seems like 'ol me," Garrod commented, chest puffing out the thought of himself in GX long ago.

Jamil groaned and rested his head on his arms," I'm way too old for these things again."

* * *

The adrenaline rush again! Seanelius Winner grinned to himself, just like last time. It was truly amazing how human opponents always give him that. A least, the good ones. They just felt so... different from computer simulations and Newtype battles, where one have certain routines and rules to play by. More like some stupid algorithms, he thought, remembering hour-long lectures about certain equations and formulas for moving the drones to checkmate the opponents efficiently. Humans, on the other hand, are so unpredictable, even if he was able to see their movements easily before hand. This improved Airmaster was not so different from his and the pilot's skills were severely lacking, it was only Seanelius's playfulness that let him live for a while. But if he was not mistaken, the other gundam should be in the Freeden IV and he might as well give it a reason to come out.

A beep from the radar told him that his target was here, and Seanelius shot the leg of the Airmaster Burst to stop it down while turning and heading towards GX. Who will it be this time? Jamil Neate or Garrod Ran? However, the wild shots from the gundam and the sight of it flying towards him in short, uncontrolled thrusts revealed that it was neither. An amateur was piloting GX!

The GX stopped a distance away and fired the beam harmonica, a wide burst of beams from the shield. Idiot, thought Seanelius, nobody fires it that far away at a pro. The style reminded him of somebody... Crash Tricre! He should have known. While it may not be as fun as he had hoped the encounter to be, a lost prey will still surffice. He did not like leaving the previous job unfinished.

A short exchange of beam shots ended up with the GX's left arm blown off, dropping the shield in the process. Undaunted, the beam machinegun continued firing at high speeds until the clip was empty. Sensing his chance, Seanelius moved in for a quick kill. He hope to shoot the cockpit at pointblank range, not wanting to damage GX any further. He had a score to settle with Garrod later. Something popped from behind the GX and its right arm pulled out a beamsaber in a downward slash. Seanelius retreated backwards, barely escaping the slash, while lifting his guns. Bye bye Crash.

*Click* *Click*

What? No more energy left!? He should have known better, the fire exchange between him and the Airmaster Burst and GX had exhausted his energy supply. It was a bloody amateur's mistake!! He must have been too engrossed in the fight. Sensing a hesitation from him, the GX thrusted forward, moving the beamsaber from down to up in an upward slash this time. This time, it left an ugly scar on the foreplate of Seanelius's Airmaster.

The Airmaster kicked the GX back and hopped into the air, transforming into a plane and flying towards the flipped car. Vuclan fire from him traced the ground and finally landed on the vehicle itself, blowing it up. After that, the plane turned its nose upwards and jetted off into the skies at high speed.

I won.

* * *

I won.

Crash could not believe it. He actually won the gundam!! Wait, he looked at the sliced left arm and empty machinegun, or did he? Why did the enemy leave? That car! He he ran over to it and saw that it was now a smoking metal scrap.

He was too late. He was the one who lost.