"And today, we mourn at the passing of Witz Sou. I knew him for seven years, we worked together as mobile suit pilots and have been through a lot. Even more then that, we were good friends. Witz saved my life more times than I could possibly remember, and also got me a house right here in this hometown of his, for free. He was a ..."

Jamil Neate couldn't bear to listen any more and tried to focus his attention elsewhere. The silence (other than Roybea Loy speaking) was disquieting, to say the least. Even though this small church was packed, most of the people do not know Witz Sou and were attending simply because of courtesy, the fact that Witz was born here and that his family had great influence. Five years ago, Witz gave his family all the gold he saved up during the years of work as a mobile suit pilot. Because he operated as a high-risk gundam pilot with a large net-worth, and hid every single credit he earned, the money was big enough that his family wouldn't have to toil away for the rest of their days. (Obviously not all Gundam pilots earn that much, Witz also went for treasure hunting) However, his mother was not willing to live off this large amount of blood-money and carefully squirrelled it away. That money still made them the richest family in this town, and they were well-reowned for generous charity donations. Upon knowing that Witz's friend was here to settle down, she provided the full cost of Roybea's new house, right next to hers.

By the time Jamil realised that Roybea had finished speaking, the session was over and everyone got up to leave. He noticed that Toniya Malme was still in a daze and had to be prompted by Witz's mother and Ennil El gently. She had been like that for the past the few days. When she saw the charred body of Witz Sou in the ER, she didn't breaking down and cry immediately, only dropping to her knees and staring at his face quietly while letting blood stream down her head. Jamil could still recall her words after ten minutes. "Why did he die?" She never spoke anymore after that. As she was led outside by the older woman , one of Witz's sisters cried and her brother quickly placed his hand over her shoulder.

"Jamil!"

He turned around to see Roybea Loy walking towards him. Before he could do anything, two hands grabbed his cuffs and pulled him towards Roybea," Why the hell did you let Witz die?"

Jamil lowered his head.

"Don't give me that crap! I let you off during the funeral because Ennil told me to. When did you come here? If you want to play hero and challenge the world again, don't draw in others to die with you!" Roybea shook him violently, threatening to strangle Jamil. A hand suddenly appeared out of nowhere and slapped Roybea on the cheek. Surprised, he let go of Jamil and Jamil took a step back, coughing in an attempt to breathe.

"Stop it, Roy," Sala Tyrrell scolded. She was the Freeden team's Second-in-Command and was once the target of Roybea's playboy hunts. "Why do you keep blaming Jamil for this? It's not his fault. Don't you know that he feels just as bad as you do? Witz Sou died to protect the entire crew."

"Not his fault!? You know Witz lost his Airmaster and the GX! The entire Freeden have no more gundams! And what did he do? He took off with three unfinished ones immediately after that! He knows he's asking for death! Only one gundam of those three can work and Witz doesn't even know how to operate it! And I'm supposed to forgive him for letting Witz take his place in hell?"

Another hand materialised and slapped Roybea on the other cheek. Ennil El pushed him away from Jamil and apologised to Sala," I'm sorry, he's getting very emotional about all these."

"Emotional? I'm god-damned- " One stomp on his legs.

"It's my fault," Jamil looked right at Roybea with his brown eyes.

Roybea took a heavy breath and appeared to be trying hard to contain his anger. He clenched his fists and asked," Where is Kid?"

"Back in the base. He's got a lot of repairing work to do on the gundams. He can't make it here for the funeral." Sala Tyrrell said.

"I know what you thinking and I don't like it," Ennil stared angrily at Roybea.

"Oh, I was just wondering why he don't even have the time to come down and see the handiwork of one of his marvellous creations." Roybea Loy frostily replied.

This time, two hands went for his face.

* * *

Is it really my fault? Kid Salsamille sat on a metal folding chair and stared numbly at the charred remains of Gundam Cypher, the gundam that Witz Sou was in at that ill-fated night. He remembered the fight he had with Witz that night, when the pilot fitted an extra plate of armour onto Cypher. For all he know now, if it weren't for the extra piece of armour, Cypher would've vaporised and the Freeden crew would die.

"I can't get any milk, will black do?" A white figure settled down on the hard concrete floor and handed Kid a steaming syrofoam cup.

"Techcs? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you go to Witz's funeral?"

"There are a lot of wounded at that last incident, and the medical facility here is severely lacking. Seriously, I can't even find a single roll of bandage around here anymore, there is just not enough. We have to make do with tearing up bedsheets." He took a small sip of the stuff," On the contrary, why are you here?"

"You think that I feel guilty for what happened to Witz?"

"Yes."

"I do," Kid took off his cap and let it drop onto the floor.

"Then do something about it." Techcs Farzenbarg stood upright, downed the entire cup and tossed it into a bin ten feet away," Sitting here isn't going ressurect Witz Sou. Think about what you have to do from now on." With that, he turned and waved good-bye to a group of technicians before leaving.

He's right, Kid thought. I cannot allow anyone else to die due to the mobile suits I've created. Time is lacking, one will never know when another surprise attack will come since that day. I don't have time to feel sorry for myself, Kid picked up the cap and dusted it with his hand, there is a lot to do. He glanced towards the unfinished gundams but decided to go see what he could salvage from the wrecked Freeden IV bridge. Maybe he could find a record of the so-called Gundam Raiden. He was stuck in the hangar that time and did not see how it fired the massive beam cannons. Maybe he could find out how that worked and come up with some sort of defense, or just duplicate the whole damn thing.

But one thing is certain. Cypher is going to have its armour and firepower.

* * *

Suddenly feeling very alone in the church, with Roybea and the gang gone, Jamil Neate solemnly reflected on what Roybea Loy said to him just a moment ago. He sat down heavily on a bench, heaved another one of those over-done sighs and leaned back, hands clasped in front of him and eyes pondering over the huge cross behind the stand.

I've never been in the church for twenty years.

After the end of the Seventh Space War, he couldn't bring himself to walk into a church again. How old was he at that time? Fifteen? Sixteen? He had thought that his Newtype powers could help bring an end to these ceaseless wars, but instead instigated the massive colony strike as retaliation by the SRA. When he first set out with a Vulture crew, he thought that his new objective in life, a way to redeem himself, was to seek out other Newtypes and protect them from being manipulated by others and recreate the tragedy again. In the end, he was still unable to stop another war from being waged by both sides, but succeeded in preventing another ground zero by foiling the Frost brothers' plans. Here he was again, five years later, another pawn to be used by all sides for their own purposes until tension builds up to an armed conflict. Then he will try to stop them from annihilating themselves. And then... a few more years, history repeats, and he tries again. Some day, he will not be able to-

"Musing about your sad life, aren't you?" Lancerow Dawell jabbed," Always so ready to bear the cross and be stoned at while trying to save humanity." He had snuck in without Jamil realising and was now sitting next to him. Lancerow leaned over with a wicked smile," You know, I could've killed you 2 seconds ago."

In need of an emphasising ear right now, Jamil turned to him," Lancerow, what are we doing? We can't seriously expect to stop all the wars time and again."

As if anticipating this qestion of faith, Lancerow slung an arm over the benchrest and looked at him, eyes probing this tired veteran who was once his energetic and visionary arch-rival. "Think of it this way, a policeman can't expect to stop all the crime by himself, but there are still policemen around. They know that after forty years, they will be tired old men-" another jab "-who no longer have anymore energy to stop crimminals. But there are still policemen around. They know that there will be people who are really thankful for their effort in preserving order, and that there will be good-willed young men ready to take their place."

Jamil thought of Garrod Ran, and allowed a thin smile back to his face. Just then, he realised that this was not a confession session, and assumed a more serious look," Why are you down here, Lancerow? Is something wrong?"

"Yes," Lancerow replied gravely, turning his head to make sure that only Jesus was present before continuing with a low voice," Do you know anything about the new Chancellor of the Space colonies?"

"Olbans Jared? What about him?"

"Apparently he funded research and development into newer models of mobile suits and a larger version of the solar laser. This is really serious stuff."

Jamil Neate was silent for a moment, then spoke," Why was this not brought to attention earlier?"

Lancerow shook his head and exclaimed with awe," Do you know how much they put into these? My crew's lives and mine were in immediate danger once we found out, this matter required a lot of... delicacy and cautiousness. Anyway, I got the data we need with Paula. We'll look it over now." With that, Lancerow got up to leave. Jamil followed after him, still silent. When they reached the church entrance, however, Lancerow Dawell remembered something and turned back to face him.

"By the way, do you know of an organisation called W.O.R.L.D.? It's on Earth."

"How do you know of W.O.R.L.D.?" Jamil was utterly shocked. He had never mentioned this to Lancerow before, how had he come to know of it?

"You remember that I mentioned Olbans was creating a larger version of the Solar Laser? I checked and discovered that it's called the Celestial Cannon. I tried to trace its designers but there appeared to be security blocks and decoys all over the files. In the end, the only clue I could find was some links to W.O.R.L.D."

This is all really getting out of hand, Jamil's head was spinning so fast he felt an urge to puke. W.O.R.L.D. attacked the Earth Feds, prompted supreme commander Trent Wolfe to mass-produce Daughtress Knights, held some link to the Chancellor of the Space Colonies and a new space laser...

Beep Beep Beep

What now?

"Admiral Jamil Neate, sir!" Someone shouted over the portable phone Jamil always carried ever since he went into the Peace Corps.

"Who is this?"

"This is Freeden Base, we're under attack!"

* * *

"We're what?" Trent Wolfe snapped the pen he was writing with.

The officer, unfaltered, repeated," We're under attack, sir. There are reports of over ten bases in our South-American coverage besieged by unknown troops."

* * *

Crash Tricre paced around impatiently in his cell, sneaking occasional glances at the small window. After being apprehended by Garrod Ran and dumped into confinement for attacking the Freeden crew and refusing to reveal where he got his new gundam (until Jamil can deal with him), he was silently counting down the time. According to the plan.

"Remember, all we want is your cooperation in obtaining authorisation to unlock Gundam TX's satellite cannons. You can keep the gundam after this and we will give you detailed information about your past. Now, do as we say..."

Although Crash had no doubt that these people were using him, what he really need most is exactly what they offered. Power, and his past. He can then decide his path from here once all these is over. Maybe he will destroy W.O.R.L.D., but for now, he will do what is required.

Flashing red lights and loud sirens illuminated the entire base and cell all of a sudden. Outside, missile defenses and SAM sites were firing into the skies, at something he could not see from his limited angle in the cell.

It has begun.

Crash Tricre walked slowly towards the distracted cell guard, separated from him by 2-inch thick metal bars.

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