Prologue
Written by Jessi Maxwell - send C&C to Megami_no_Remon@hotmail.com
"General Khushrenada, sir," the soldier said sharply, snapping off a smart salute. Treize looked up from the video feed on his computer and nodded slightly for the man to continue. "Sir, we just received word from the doctor. He's regained consciousness."
Treize leapt up from his desk and offered the soldier a quick, curt nod and half a smile. "Thank you." Without any further ado he swept down the hallway, making all haste to the medical wing. When he reached the room, he headed to the nurse in charge. "My lady, is he well enough to maintain a private conversation?"
The nurse frowned a bit as she looked at her charts, then looked at Treize. She was smart enough to realize he wasn't so much asking as ordering an audience, and she gave him a slight nod. "But please try to be brief, sir. He's still in critical condition."
Treize barely spared the woman a nod as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he looked at the man lying in bed before him. "Oh, Milliardo..."
Zechs was in dreadful condition. Bandages seemed to cover more of him than was left bare. He had a broken arm and several broken ribs. Several more bones were bruised or cracked. Nasty electrical burns covered much of his body, and his head was bandaged from a nasty gash that had cracked his skull. It was still unknown if he'd retain sight in his right eye. His other eye, however, was open and it focused fuzzily on Treize after a moment. A ghost of a smile flitted briefly across his lips and he managed a soft whisper. "Treize..."
Treize pulled a chair next to Zechs' bed and he lightly closed his hand over the broken man's un-bandaged one and gave it a gentle squeeze. "It's a miracle you survived. Epyon was...I thought I'd lost you."
Zechs gave him another slight grin before he seemed to lose focus on Treize, his eye rolling a bit. Treize frowned in alarm and gripped his hand tighter. "Milliardo...stay with me. You must speak with me. What did this to you? What weapon is capable of this sort of destruction? Who were you fighting? Is this something one of the Gundam pilots devised?"
Zechs seemed to focus, though it was a struggle for him to speak. The sight almost broke Treize's heart, but he had to know what new threat they were facing. "The...the boy..."
"The one we captured?" Treize frowned, thinking back to the video feed he had been watching. The boy they had taken prisoner tangled up in the midst of Epyon's wreckage had been alone and seemingly unarmed. "That's impossible. He's only a boy. There was no sign of a weapon or anything at all nearby capable of wreaking that sort of havoc on your suit. Epyon was practically shredded."
When Zechs didn't respond, Treize sighed softly. The platinum blonde seemed to have lost consciousness again. Treize stood slowly and turned to leave. Before he left the bedside, though, Zechs' hand clamped around his wrist with a tightness that surprised the general.
"Treize...it was...the boy!" Zechs gasped with as much vehemence as he could muster. Treize stared at Zechs, surprised, and nodded slightly.
"Alright, Milliardo...I'll look into it."
Zechs appeared grateful before his eye fluttered shut and his grip on Treize's wrist slipped free. Treize waited a moment, but it seemed he really WAS unconscious this time. The general sighed softly as he brushed a few strands of hair from Zechs' face, then turned quietly and headed out of the room and back to his office.
// The boy, was it?...// he thought as he turned his gaze again to the monitor, which had a live feed to the complex's sole occupied containment cell.
~ * ^ * ~
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick...
The boy glared viciously at the round clock behind its wire cage. Every click of its hands sounded like a peal of thunder in the empty, sterile white room. But no matter how he glared, the clock simply continued to mindlessly cut time into measurable increments. It was so sane, so logical...and to the boy, so damningly nonsensical and pointless. He hated it. With a small, frustrated growl, he turned his back on the clock and resumed his angry pacing.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick...
~ * ^ * ~
Treize eyed his captive intently. The boy could be a beautiful creature indeed, if he were cleaned up. He appeared to be fifteen or sixteen years old. His waist length silvery hair was matted with dirt and blood. Countless scratches and bruises marred his pale skin, but his blue eyes were sharp and intelligent. He wore nothing but a threadbare, tattered set of black robes. Somehow, his angry pacing still possessed a fluid, graceful quality that reminded Treize of a hunting cat.
// So this boy somehow tore Epyon to pieces and almost killed Milliardo...but how? With what? I suppose I shall have to talk to our...new friend. //