"SHI-NE!" 

    The scream trailed off into enraged battle cry as another Mobile Suit exploded. It was the first real fight he'd had in a good five months and Duo felt he'd earned the right to vent all that anger and frustration he was carrying around. It wasn't too much of a challenge, unfortunately. The Succession's MS pilots had been so shocked at the arrival of a Gundam that their formation had been shot to Hell. 

    More than their formation, if I can help it, Duo thought darkly, a grin curving his lips. 

    Duo snickered as one of the suits brought its beam rifle to bear on Revenge's flank. A twist of his wrist sent Revenge out of the way, the blast instead taking out the MS that had been hovering to his right. Duo brought Revenge's right arm up, a small beam cannon popping out of the compartment in the forearm, and fired. The first shot nicked his target's knee joint, stalling any moves the MS might have made to avoid the rest of the shots which hit squarely in the chest area. There was a feeble spark as the MS dropped its rifle before it burst into a brilliant ball of oranges and reds. 

    Duo glanced at the visual monitors but didn't see any Mobile Suits. He flicked a switch and watched the screen as Revenge's systems went through one scan and slid into another. The Succession had obviously gotten hold of some interesting new toys, their Mobile Suits hidden behind some form of stealth technology. OZ had had some advanced technology but nothing as good as this. But Revenge had some interesting gadgets as well. At close range, some of her sensors would be able to detect fuel emissions. Communications sensors were also locating the "ghost" transmissions, garbled radio signals that were still bouncing around after the actual messages had been sent. Revenge's mainframe was busy matching MS emissions to the transmissions that the Succession pilots were trading. All Duo had to do was find the points where the transmissions met and emissions were strongest. 

    There. 

    There was a group of four behind a ridge of rubble that had once been a building of the Preventer's East Sank Point base. Duo briefly contemplated blasting it and taking some of the Mobile Suits with it. He discarded that course of action; the chance of Preventer survivors in the rubble was rather slim but not nonexistent. 

    Revenge's wings unfolded, the thrusters giving her a lift over the ridge of decimated masonry. The Gundam hovered several hundred feet in the air, then dropped down in the midst of the four Mobile Suits. Rather than fire immediately, Revenge dropped to one knee, the wings wrapping about it as two mobile suits that were opposite each other fired. Their blast went over Revenge's head, taking each other out instead. Revenge stood, folding one wing to fire the beam cannon, the third Mobile Suit collapsed into a battered heap, fire and smoke spurting out of its joints. A trail of fuel leaked out like blood and was consumed by the flames. 

    Duo reached for the button that would open his communication channels but paused. Howard would kill him if he blew the cover of his faked death just to antagonize the enemy. Especially after all the trouble he'd gone through to make it appear as though Duo'd been killed. He ignored the communications button for a moment and began playing with the transmission settings. When he had it the way he wanted, he turned on the communication channels, setting them so he could also hear them in his cockpit. 

    "Come on!" he yelled. The transmission altered the sound of his voice, creating a deeper, menacing voice that spoke his words. Shinigami's voice, or maybe Revenge's. It didn't matter because they were one and the same right now. 

    It made Duo laugh. The laugh transformed over the comm. link. It sound positively demonic and that only made him laugh harder. What he wouldn't give to see the expression on the face of that MS pilot right now. 

    "You guys are doing my work for me!" he managed when he got his laughter under control. "You could at least *pretend* that you've got a shot in Hell of beating m-OUF!" 

    Duo's breath left his lungs in a rush as the last Succession Mobile Suit decided to forgo the rifle for a moment and slammed into him instead. One giant hand gripped Revenge's shoulder armor, the fingers curling under the rim for purchase. Their torsos were pressed together, pinning the half-folded left wing between them by the end feathers and trapping Revenge's left arm in the fold. The MS pilot struggled with the other hand to bring the rifle about, an awkward feat considering their position. 

    "That's more like it, you kamikaze bastard!" 

    A brief hum vibrated along the metal feathers, triggering the smaller wing fletchets, simultaneously firing three in the Mobile Suit. A second followed before each let off a brilliant blue flare that surged through the MS circuitry, shorting out the weaker systems where it could and temporarily jamming several others. The Mobile Suit seemed to spasm as its nervous system went haywire, falling away enough for Duo to free the wing and arm, but the MS hand only tightened it's grip on the armor. Duo shoved it away like school yard bully, the MS arm ripping off from the assault, then falling uselessly to the rubble at their feet. One solid blast from the beam cannon and it was done. 

    Duo sat perfectly still in the cockpit for a moment. No more warning signals came from Revenge. There was only the sound of his own harsh breathing, amplified by the comm. link as if Revenge was breathing with him. Nothing else moved. The silence of the aftermath of battle. 

    He reached out and cutt off the communication link, settling back and folding his hands behind his head. 

    "Not bad for a first run, huh, Revenge?" Duo asked. 
**** 
    Zechs stood, taking a moment to stretch his long limbs and to straighten the hair-band that held his long hair in a ponytail. Because of the varied length towards the front, the hairband did little to keep his hair out of his face. It did, however, keep most of it in one place so it was harder for it to get in his way when shifting in his seat on long flights. 

    "I'd feel a lot safer if you'd agree to a military shuttle. At least something secured." 

    He waited by his seat for several minutes, allowing most of the other passengers the chance to get off the plane before retrieving his bag from the overhead storage cabinet. 

    "I understand that, Noin. However, wouldn't that draw attention?" 

    "And Zechs Merquise on a passenger flight won't?" 

    He laughed at that. 

    Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he headed towards the exit at the front, giving the two stewardesses a polite smile. They smiled back, noting his good looks but not recognizing him. He supposed his features weren't set so harshly as they had been during the war. The worn jeans, black T-shirt, and loose denim jacket were helping the image. As long as no one was looking too closely, he was just a regular guy. 

    "How is she? I know Heero meant a great deal to her." 

    He hadn't been sure about returning to Earth. He had tried to blow it up, after all. But there were two women he was missing dearly and they were both here. Trouble was in the making, and it seemed he could never stay away from that for long. The last few months spent in space had been like a brief sabbatical, time for him to orient himself before things got ugly again. 

    "She was handling it well. The latest news hit her hard, I think." 

    "Latest news?" 

    So there were no more gundam pilots, save himself. More cause for Noin and Relena to worry for him. 

    And they did have reason to worry. 

    "I'll meet you at the airport, then?" 

    "Yes." 

    "As well as a Security Team, no doubt," he said a touch ruefully. 

    "Of course," she replied sweetly. 

    He only had the carry-on so he managed to avoid the hassle of retrieving luggage. Anything that he would need would be in Sank, which made traveling light possible. He made his way out into the cavernous arrival lobby, the sound of hundreds of people toting suitcases, small children, and the murmur of conversation and the ocassional argument filling his ears. A young woman with fine blonde hair, almost as pale as his own, ran across his path to greet her family. 

    As that hair trailed out behind her, he caught a glimpse of something. The path of a red laser as it cut across the air, captured for a moment in the strands. He wouldn't have seen it had he not been looking at that exact moment. His eyes widened fractionally, looked down, and found that small laser dot settled in the center of chest. 

    Zechs didn't hear the gun report; either he was too far away or the weapon had a silencer attached. He felt the impact, something small slamming into his chest with such force that the air froze in his lungs, and he was falling backwards, his head hitting the tiles. 
***** 
    "Zechs." 

    He thought he was on the floor. Not very dignified. His chest hurt too. 

    "Zechs!" That voice again, a little more insistent. 

    He opened his eyes to see, not a ceiling, but Noin's somewhat exasperated expression. 

    "Nice to see you again, Noin," he said and favored her with a smile. She huffed at him, but smiled back. 

    Indeed, he was still lying against the cold tiles of the airport lobby, a small mixture of airport security and the Sank Royal Guard surrounding him. Noin took his hand in one of hers, his elbow in the other, and helped him sit up. There were more guards outside of the tight circle that had been formed around Zechs, going about their duties. Exits were being closed off and security check points were being tripled, though in all likelihood, the shooter was already gone. 

    Noin fingered the small hole in the center of Zechs' shirt, her eyebrows drawn downward in a frown. "Black shirt to hide the lack of blood, loose jacket to hide the bulk of the bullet proof vest?" She poked him, encountering the solidity of the vest instead of his skin. Zechs tried not to wince; vest or not, he was going to have a vicous bruise. 

    "So much for trying to get me here without notice," he said, pulling himself to his feet. 

    They made their way out of the airport, still surrounded by guards like a human shield. Zechs and Noin got in one of a series of cars that were waiting just outside. Zechs knew that several other exits would have similar groups which would all leave at different times, headed for differenent destinations. Only theirs would actually go to the Sank palace. 

    Once on their way, he took a moment to look at Noin closely, amused to see that she was giving him the same treatment. 

    "You've relaxed," Noin said. "You really did take a break instead of just keeping low profile. "The tone was approving, if somewhat surprised. 

    "And you're tense," Zechs parried. "Something else has happened since I last talked to you." 

    "There's been an attack on a Preventer Base. Again." 

    "But something's different this time." 

    "Yes. The Mobile Suits that attacked were all destroyed by a Gundam." 

    Zechs blinked. "Funny, that doesn't surprise me as much as I thought it would." 

    "There aren't any visuals of the Gundam. The security cameras had already been blown out before it arrived. All we have are a few sketchy accounts from some of the people stationed there." She paused to take a breath, knowing what his next question would be. "Relena's been doing press conferences and diplomatic meetings about the Gundam since this morning." 

    "What about you? How are you doing?" 

    She paused, and looked over at Zechs again. He didn't usually ask. During the war he'd always been focused on other things. Noin had resigned herself to the supportive, but overlooked shadow some time ago. 

    She smiled slowly, some left over tension from the day working it's way out of her shoulders. "Better than before, I think." 
***** 
    Schaefer was fuming. 

    He glared for a moment at the regeneration cylinders before him, then transferred it to the man who was standing at the control panel with him. It was hard to tell with those mechanical eyes but the other's expression was beginning to look rather smug. 

   "Something troubling you, doctor?" Dr. J. asked. The thin lips quirked up at one corner. Definitely smug. It was not helping Schaefer's mood. 

    "Maxwell is *alive*," Schaefer snapped. 

    "So it would seem," The older man returned. 

    Schaefer wasn't stupid. He'd heard reports that Duo Maxwell had been murdered. Yet the hired assassin had never shown to collect the promised pay. And now a Gundam had just demolished a small team of Succession Mobile Suits. Put all the puzzle pieces together and Schaefer had a picture he wouldn't want hanging in his office. Quite obviously, someone had screwed up. Again. And between himself and the dead assassin, he'd much rather blame the dead assassin. 

    Schaefer busied himself with the computer that was monitoring brain wave patterns, pushing aside his frustration to concentrate on the delicate controls. Through some of the finest technology, he  manipulated several chemicals until he felt they were at satisfactory levels, turning several knobs to the left. 

    Dr. J. had gone to work on evaluating the tissue regeneration and adjusted things to the needs of the individual subjects. Schaefer was only mildly irritated that it was taking J. so much longer to finish, no doubt handicapped by the metal hand. The only sound was the whirs of the control panel and the occasional squeak from some of the joints in Dr. J.'s hand and leg braces. 

    "Subject: H.Y. has approached acceptable levels," Schaefer reported. "Deep R.E.M. sleep has been achieved. Subject should be occupied within the R.E.M. cycle and not realize he's dreaming. That should do until we figure out someway to override his body's resistance to the usual methods." 

    He stepped away from the control, marked off several checks in the folder lying on a nearby table, tucked the folder under his arm, and headed for the exit. On his way, he called out over his shoulder, "Perhaps you should get those things oiled before next time, hmmm?" Some of his anger over the situation that had arisen leaked out in his voice. 

    Dr. J. glanced back at the door as it slid shut, then snickered, flexing his metal hand. It never ceased to amaze him how much someone could underestimate him. The old scientist finished his work with the regeneration in a matter of moments and moved to the panel Schaefer had been standing at. Choosing a knob, he clasped it with his metal hand and, quite deliberately, turned it ever so slightly to the right. 

    "Damn prosthetics," he muttered through a snicker, "sometimes you just can't control what they're hitting." 

    He glanced at the regeneration cylinder, his mechanical eyes making out the shadow of a human form behind a layer of plexi-glass and condensation. "Pleasant dreams, my boy," he said as he made his way out of the lab. 

    Hidden from view, Heero Yuy's eyes flickered with the motions of sleep. 

End Part IV