Post by Azrael on Nov 19, 2014 8:09:05 GMT -5
"What makes Azrael so dangerous isn't his combative skill. It isn't even his natural talent at adapting. As significant as those are in him, what makes him dangerous is his unflinching resolve to destroy what he see's as evil...and his utterly unwavering view of what that is. For most people, like you and me? There's a way to compromise, exceptions to the rules, limits to how far we'll take it. These don't exist to him at all. He see's those as violations of his very beliefs. To limit himself in how far he'll go, to compromise in his views of good and evil, to allow exceptions to the rules, even if he wants it badly...is traitorous. He would rather die...or make others, even ones he feels for, suffer...than betray his God. And for Azrael, to betray his beliefs that he swore to uphold, is to betray God. He can't be reasoned with. He can't be bargained with. He is ruthlessly black-and-white in his views. Which means if he considers you an enemy, he'll stop at nothing to kill you. If that means dropping a bomb on your house from an airplane or killing everyone you know to get to you...that's just how it goes. It also means...that no one is exempt from his brutal sense of justice. Not even family or friends. Literally...no one is truly safe from him. The only slack he'll cut you, is what his moral code demands. And what's scariest is, most of the time...he resents even giving that."
- Kevin Watts, Sean "Azrael" Watts' brother.
The dream sneaks up on him sometimes. More times than he wants to admit. Crackling fire with a noble but stern Crusader standing in his medieval uniform, gently but firmly demanding obedience. A burning angel offering a sword of solid flame. The fire, the crackling fire the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. Slowly, his eyes opened as he struggled to get out of dream world. Groggily, he sat up and looked around at his surrounding. Seedy apartment in Colony D9. He ran his hands through his hair as his memory slowly came back. He had found a generic docking area. Colony D9 was a slum colony. Security was very little. It wasn't anarchy but most of the police tended to focus on bigger problems than incoming and outgoing traffic. The Colony just barely managed to handle itself with minimum capabilities. It was the ghetto if ever there was one for the Colonies. Police were brutal and not into taking crap. Gangs were small timers mostly into some beatings, petty thievery and small drug use. They talked tough but kept things relatively small. As Colonies went, it was a small place. Usually a Space Colony had artificial lighting to simulate sunlight and tree's for fresher, cleaner air. This one just used old air-recycling technology.
It's advantage was it's lack of security. If someone wanted a place to chill until heat went down, this was the place. However, that didn't keep authorities from checking it out, but often people didn't ask questions and didn't want to be a part of whatever you were a part of. Take the money, look the other way and try your best not to remember anything distinct about the customer.
If anything showed that, it was the lousy room. A one-person bed with a small desk and chair, a locker against the wall for a "closet" and a single light bulb in the ceiling. One window with blinds that let street lights filter through, with an old gas-powered heater and an air conditioner that only had an "on" and "off" setting. Considering he'd endured the wilderness and homelessness, Azrael didn't think too poorly of the conditions. That didn't mean he necessarily liked them either, though. Sitting up, he groaned and stood up, stretching his back in a simple pair of sweatpants and a tank top he often used as his sleeping clothes. Always felt like nighttime with how dark it could be. Kneeling down, he began his daily devotions with his prayers to God and to the 7 archangels for their influence and protection. That being done, he proceeded to go through his morning ritual of yoga stretches.
Slowly, he dropped down into the Child Pose, controlling his breathing as he stretched himself. Most people thought only of being hard-core muscle builders or vicious martial artists, but if there was one thing Azrael had learned after over a decade of military service, it was that if you didn't take care of your body, no matter how careful you ate or how hard you worked out...especially with a combative lifestyle...you could expect to be hurting and feeling like a crippled 60 year old before you were 30. he transitioned from the Child to the Cat, feeling a satisfying series of cracks and pops along his spine. He was 30 years old, but his joints were in remarkable condition for one solid reason: He learned the healing arts as well as the killing arts. They were interconnected really, both focusing on knowledge of the human body. Azrael could survive not just because he was tough or could calm down. Not just because he could kill a man with weapons or hands. But he could heal himself, prepare himself. Yoga warmed up the body, loosened the muscles, soothed the joints and prepared the body. He transitioned to the Cow position, then to the Up Dog with a groan of satisfaction, then the Down Dog, feeling his legs stretch out. If people only knew what they could attain from such simple things as a few Yoga stretches. He then went to the Halfway Lift, moving to the Forward Bend, then the Triangle before ending with the Mountain pose. He felt great. It always woke him up and made him feel like he was ready for the day.
Now for the more dedicated yoga poses. He took a breath and transitioned to the Warrior Pose variation 1. He pushed his groin stretching muscle, a KEY one for high kicks and reached up high with his arms. Before long, he felt a burn in his thighs and arms. The warrior poses were Azrael's favorite. A decent muscle work out that could warm you up. Also ideal for trying to maintain muscle if you were injured. After getting the Warrior Pose variation 1 on each side, he then transitioned to Warrior Pose variation 2 on each side, feeling it in his back and arms as well as his thighs, then moved to Warrior Pose Variation 3 on each leg. This was probably one of the hardest ones, but it demanded balance. Stopping, he took a breath, then when to Reverse Warrior Pose variation 1 on each side, then Reverse Warrior Pose 2 on each side. They were deserving of the name. They would not only improve flexibility, but were the basis of calesthetic strength building. If done properly.
Azrael shook his head, then grabbed a towel and some clothes. After using the public bathroom (very carefully) he came back and dressed in his typical pilots boots (with connecting knee pads) some simple black jeans and a dull grey shirt, with black leather jacket and piloting gloves. He could pass for just a generic pilot of a mining mobile suit or some such thing. Which was the general idea. Still, he kept his handgun in his shoulder holster, just in case, along with a few knife blades in easy-to-access sheathes. Colony D9 may not have been known for much in the way of murder but he had no intention of being one of the few victims. Or being mugged. Grabbing his wallet, he murmured a bit to himself as he looked at the balance on his credit card. He had some money from some private bank accounts (mainly money he stole from his father's organization) and it would last him awhile if he rationed it out but it wouldn't last forever. He'd probably have to find some kind of work.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked out of the apartment complex and onto the cold concrete sidewalk. Colony D9 wasn't much of a looker's place, that's for sure. It had all the classic sleaze joints you'd expect: Virtual hook-ups, real-life hook up bars, gentleman's clubs, rough bars and some run-down but still operational typical stores and shops. He found himself slipping more into his casual-alert mode, looking around with mild disinterest as if he were simply checking out the area. In truth, he was just watching the area. If someone looked suspicious, they could expect to be watched from his periphial vision.
As he walked towards the nearest diner, his mind began to run through what he was going to do. Can't just ditch the Scorpio mobile suit. Thing is massive, just shy of the size of a Gundam. He made a mental note to himself to check to make sure the thing hadn't been tampered with. He made sure to lock it with a code that made any faulty attempts to access it immediately shut it down and put it into a self-lock mode so even if they got the hatch open, the power source would not properly activate. Thankfully, as a back up, he had both his cell-phone plugged into it and his thumb print signature assigned. Nobody was getting in that thing as the code was something he only recently made-up. He half-expected to forget it ,but thank heaven, there was his thumbprint and cell phone. I was originally planning just to destroy the thing. But it didn't come with a self-destruct mode. Almost like Treize expected that. Well hell, why shouldn't he? And if enough people did it, it'd put a serious cramp in his plans. Azrael sighed. He knew in his heart, Treize was a noble man. But sometimes...
No sense worrying about what might have been, he thought. Got enough problems in the here and now. The main issue was which side to take. He considered putting the thing on auto-pilot towards the sun but the likelihood of it being intercepted and somehow taken off course was too great. Damn near certain. The Sanq Kingdom was apparently going to being a neutral position with a defense force. Problem was, how long would it remain neutral? And if it did pick a side, which side? Zechs was a great man but he wasn't above corruption. He still struggled at times with identity and that left him vulnerable to the right influence. He damn sure wasn't going to his father's maniacal extremist views. The Colonies were splintered and fighting for one would almost certainly put you at odd ends with the others. The UESA was completely uncooperative to say the least. Most of the Colonies were complaining about what independence, but there were always some that weren't going to go along with that and wanted to remain with the UESA.
And which ones were aligned with Treize and his ideas? He had no clue and that was the issue. In real life, there were precious few moments were there was really a group that was wholly evil. Azrael frowned. Life was never simple. As much as he saw things in black and white, that applied much easier to individuals than groups of people. Groups were a pain in the ass. He let out a sigh. Truth is, any side I join with...I'm screwed one way or another, he thought. Then he had another idea as his head lifted up from his thoughts. Wait a minute...who says I have to choose a side? He had to smirk at that idea. Everyone thinks I have to pick a side...what if I decide otherwise?
He had to grin at that thought. A part of him that was arrogant and rebellious loved the idea of it. But in reality, it made sense. Pick your fights. Each and everyone single one of them. With no allegiance, he could choose which side to fight for whenever he wanted and didn't have to worry about his obligations. Screw 'em, he thought with a rueful grin. THIS time, nobody tells me what to do or who to join. I make my own rules. He had to laugh a bit. Something of a mischievous laugh. This is gonna be great. I don't have to care or worry about who I piss off.
"Hey...Az?! Is that you??"
Az lifted his head up. Blast it! he mentally raged at himself. Got so caught up in my own damn mind... He stopped as he looked at a familiar face, a young man then his shoulders slumped and his face took a sour look to it. Sweet, shivering, sweaty Saint Simon...
"It is you!" Tim said with a beaming smile. A young man of about 27 now, Tim had been a supporter of the organization back when Azrael fought with his father. He had also looked up to Azrael in this ridiculous, boyish fashion that he felt both flattered...and annoyed by. There were times Azrael felt Tim admired more of what he wanted him to be rather than what he actually was. "Holy crap, I can't believe! I mean, wow, do you have that Scorpio around here? I heard it was like the Epyon but--"
Azrael promptly smacked Tim upside the back of his head. "Would you shut up?!" he hissed at him. "You wanna let the whole damn Colony know right where I am and what I have?"
Tim started at the thump then looked at him. "Uh...Az. I hate to break it to you, but everyone knows where you are."
"What?" Azrael said incredously, then started walking again. "C'mere, walk with me for a moment."
"Wow, it's like crazy that I found you here, I mean, it seems like just the other day you and were tryin' our best to free ourselves from the UESA, then you turn around and-"
"Ah, crap," Azrael muttered then cut in with, "Shut up, Tim." He rolled his eyes irritably. Of all the people to get stuck with in this situation...screw me. But he knew Tim was loyal to him. He could overlook his annoying personality in favor of his loyalty. "I'm not here to reminiscence on our glory days. Or lack thereof."
"Okay, so are you like...gonna defend Colony D9 now? I heard you and your old man aren't doing so well. Does this mean you're fighting for the UESA? Or the Sanq Kingdom?"
"I'm not fighting for anybody," Azrael said as he kept walking down the sidewalk with him.
"Whaddya mean?" Tim asked, with a perplexed voice.
"What I said," Azrael stated firmly. "I'm not fighting for anyone. I'm fighting to put an end to this stupid war. I didn't even want involved with this, only reason I got that Scorpio is because I refuse to let my idiot father take off with it on another one of his insane crusades against all things not Colonial."
"Well, you're sure as heck involved now," Tim said blatantly.
Azrael gave him a sarcastic look. "No crap, really? I couldn't tell. I'd have blown the stupid mobile suit up if it had a self-destruct system. But it don't. That's the only reason it's not reduced to parts and scrap metal. I didn't ask for this stupid thing to fall on me, I just did what I thought was right. If it were up to me, I'd have never gotten the thing. It's brought nothing but trouble."
"Well, you're stuck with it," Tim said. "Suck it up, buttercup!" he added in a firm, commanding type voice made to indicate some sort of toughness.
Azrael had to grind his teeth to keep from backfisting Tim right in the ear for that little comment. It was hands down one of the most annoying things that could be told. It was belittling and dismissive of his feelings on the matter, like they weren't even relevant. And was like someone pretending to be some maternal figure to him while acting like he was a child. Treating a very serious military situation with such a careless, ignorant phrase was not only offense to him in that he was being told it by someone far less experience, it was also offensive in that he thought so complex and utterly dangerous a situation could be handled with just an off-hand comment. Furthermore, it didn't help anything at all. It was the worst excuse for any form of advice and made Azrael wish he hadn't even said anything. "Suck it up, buttercup", he mocked mentally. Real easy to say that when YOU aren't stuck with it. Maybe I'll just drop the damn thing on you and see if it's that simple to you. Drop an elite-level Mobile Suit that can turn the tide of a battle right on your hands, you stupid moron. Then let's see your commanding, know-all attitude. Suck it up, indeed. Keep talking like that, you'll be sucking your food through straws. All he said, however, was a simple, "Tim? Don't say that again. Period. Ever. Not of me, to me or in my presence. Only thing you did was make me regret I told you how I felt about the situation."
Tim blinked as he didn't exactly get the reaction he thought. If he had hoped to impress or motivate Azrael, it seemed all he did was piss him off. "Uh...sorry."
Azrael took a deep breath in hopes of getting that hot anger that just started to burn ahole in his chest to cool off, then stopped as something clicked. "Wait a minute. Tim, how did you know I was here?" He turned and eyed Tim carefully. "How did you know I have a Scorpio mobile suit?"
Tim blinked. "Haven't you watched the television? It's all over the news, man. Everyone knows you took it and everyone knows you flew here with it."
A cold fury burned like ice in Azrael's chest as he felt himself go numb from rage. He sold me out...Azrael thought numbly. My freakin' father sold me out to....to everyone. It was the only explanation. His father had to have been behind it. Not even David, not even that scumbag of an uncle would do that. He'd have to admit losing to him despite outnumbering him and that would have been humiliating. His father had made sure the information had gone public. Azrael's right fist clenched so hard, his nails were biting into his palm through the leather glove.
"Where's my father?" He asked with lips that felt bloodless.
"Uh....I've no clue." Tim said. "You think he's coming here?"
I can damn sure guarantee it, He thought as the anger was starting to turn hot again. He struggled to swallow it down and keep it under control. His father exposed him to try and flush him out. He had to be nearby. And if he didn't leave the Colony, he'd eventually come in after him. Both of Azrael's fists balled up in his jacket pockets as his eyesight blurred. I welcome it, old man. This time, I'm putting your crazy group out of business. Permanently. He could feel the burn in his chest even more so.
"Az?" Tim blinked and looked concerned. "Hey uh...you wanna come stay at my place?"
"No thanks, Tim," Azrael said. "Think I'll chill by myself for awhile."
Tim's hand was suddenly on Azrael's shoulder in a comforting way. A rare thing as most people knew Azrael didn't like being touched. "Hey...I'm you're friend, man. Whatever happens, I'm here for you. I still run a mechanic shop workin' on mining mobile suits and all. We got parts, we got everything you need. Tech manuals. I even got a big warehouse we can keep your mobile suit in."
Tim's support and loyalty, despite his annoying personality, definitely helped him calm down a little. Azrael took a deep breath and looked back at him. "Thanks, okay? Look, I'll....I'll stop by later. Gonna go get a few things. Same address?"
Tim brightened immediately. "Yeah, same place! Be like old times, Az! I'll even get some of that Mezzo Mix soda you like and some Lion chocolate bars!" He gave Azrael a friendly pat on the back. "I'll go get stuff ready now, man! You can stay at the place if you want too!"
Azrael nodded as Tim gave a friendly wave and walked back down the sidewalk. Azrael turned to him and called out, "Hey, Tim?...I appreciate it. Really. I do."
Tim just nodded with a smile as they both walked their seperate ways for the time being. Azrael marched right to where the docking bay was, his anger quickly returning. If they were waiting for him a the docking bay or trying to get into his mobile suit, they were in for a rude awakening. He wasn't going to show any mercy this time.
I'll kill you, old man. He thought as his face took a cold scowl. You just crossed your last line with me. You wanna play cold-hearted murderer? You're gonna lose, old man. Badly.
The dream sneaks up on him sometimes. More times than he wants to admit. Crackling fire with a noble but stern Crusader standing in his medieval uniform, gently but firmly demanding obedience. A burning angel offering a sword of solid flame. The fire, the crackling fire the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. Slowly, his eyes opened as he struggled to get out of dream world. Groggily, he sat up and looked around at his surrounding. Seedy apartment in Colony D9. He ran his hands through his hair as his memory slowly came back. He had found a generic docking area. Colony D9 was a slum colony. Security was very little. It wasn't anarchy but most of the police tended to focus on bigger problems than incoming and outgoing traffic. The Colony just barely managed to handle itself with minimum capabilities. It was the ghetto if ever there was one for the Colonies. Police were brutal and not into taking crap. Gangs were small timers mostly into some beatings, petty thievery and small drug use. They talked tough but kept things relatively small. As Colonies went, it was a small place. Usually a Space Colony had artificial lighting to simulate sunlight and tree's for fresher, cleaner air. This one just used old air-recycling technology.
It's advantage was it's lack of security. If someone wanted a place to chill until heat went down, this was the place. However, that didn't keep authorities from checking it out, but often people didn't ask questions and didn't want to be a part of whatever you were a part of. Take the money, look the other way and try your best not to remember anything distinct about the customer.
If anything showed that, it was the lousy room. A one-person bed with a small desk and chair, a locker against the wall for a "closet" and a single light bulb in the ceiling. One window with blinds that let street lights filter through, with an old gas-powered heater and an air conditioner that only had an "on" and "off" setting. Considering he'd endured the wilderness and homelessness, Azrael didn't think too poorly of the conditions. That didn't mean he necessarily liked them either, though. Sitting up, he groaned and stood up, stretching his back in a simple pair of sweatpants and a tank top he often used as his sleeping clothes. Always felt like nighttime with how dark it could be. Kneeling down, he began his daily devotions with his prayers to God and to the 7 archangels for their influence and protection. That being done, he proceeded to go through his morning ritual of yoga stretches.
Slowly, he dropped down into the Child Pose, controlling his breathing as he stretched himself. Most people thought only of being hard-core muscle builders or vicious martial artists, but if there was one thing Azrael had learned after over a decade of military service, it was that if you didn't take care of your body, no matter how careful you ate or how hard you worked out...especially with a combative lifestyle...you could expect to be hurting and feeling like a crippled 60 year old before you were 30. he transitioned from the Child to the Cat, feeling a satisfying series of cracks and pops along his spine. He was 30 years old, but his joints were in remarkable condition for one solid reason: He learned the healing arts as well as the killing arts. They were interconnected really, both focusing on knowledge of the human body. Azrael could survive not just because he was tough or could calm down. Not just because he could kill a man with weapons or hands. But he could heal himself, prepare himself. Yoga warmed up the body, loosened the muscles, soothed the joints and prepared the body. He transitioned to the Cow position, then to the Up Dog with a groan of satisfaction, then the Down Dog, feeling his legs stretch out. If people only knew what they could attain from such simple things as a few Yoga stretches. He then went to the Halfway Lift, moving to the Forward Bend, then the Triangle before ending with the Mountain pose. He felt great. It always woke him up and made him feel like he was ready for the day.
Now for the more dedicated yoga poses. He took a breath and transitioned to the Warrior Pose variation 1. He pushed his groin stretching muscle, a KEY one for high kicks and reached up high with his arms. Before long, he felt a burn in his thighs and arms. The warrior poses were Azrael's favorite. A decent muscle work out that could warm you up. Also ideal for trying to maintain muscle if you were injured. After getting the Warrior Pose variation 1 on each side, he then transitioned to Warrior Pose variation 2 on each side, feeling it in his back and arms as well as his thighs, then moved to Warrior Pose Variation 3 on each leg. This was probably one of the hardest ones, but it demanded balance. Stopping, he took a breath, then when to Reverse Warrior Pose variation 1 on each side, then Reverse Warrior Pose 2 on each side. They were deserving of the name. They would not only improve flexibility, but were the basis of calesthetic strength building. If done properly.
Azrael shook his head, then grabbed a towel and some clothes. After using the public bathroom (very carefully) he came back and dressed in his typical pilots boots (with connecting knee pads) some simple black jeans and a dull grey shirt, with black leather jacket and piloting gloves. He could pass for just a generic pilot of a mining mobile suit or some such thing. Which was the general idea. Still, he kept his handgun in his shoulder holster, just in case, along with a few knife blades in easy-to-access sheathes. Colony D9 may not have been known for much in the way of murder but he had no intention of being one of the few victims. Or being mugged. Grabbing his wallet, he murmured a bit to himself as he looked at the balance on his credit card. He had some money from some private bank accounts (mainly money he stole from his father's organization) and it would last him awhile if he rationed it out but it wouldn't last forever. He'd probably have to find some kind of work.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked out of the apartment complex and onto the cold concrete sidewalk. Colony D9 wasn't much of a looker's place, that's for sure. It had all the classic sleaze joints you'd expect: Virtual hook-ups, real-life hook up bars, gentleman's clubs, rough bars and some run-down but still operational typical stores and shops. He found himself slipping more into his casual-alert mode, looking around with mild disinterest as if he were simply checking out the area. In truth, he was just watching the area. If someone looked suspicious, they could expect to be watched from his periphial vision.
As he walked towards the nearest diner, his mind began to run through what he was going to do. Can't just ditch the Scorpio mobile suit. Thing is massive, just shy of the size of a Gundam. He made a mental note to himself to check to make sure the thing hadn't been tampered with. He made sure to lock it with a code that made any faulty attempts to access it immediately shut it down and put it into a self-lock mode so even if they got the hatch open, the power source would not properly activate. Thankfully, as a back up, he had both his cell-phone plugged into it and his thumb print signature assigned. Nobody was getting in that thing as the code was something he only recently made-up. He half-expected to forget it ,but thank heaven, there was his thumbprint and cell phone. I was originally planning just to destroy the thing. But it didn't come with a self-destruct mode. Almost like Treize expected that. Well hell, why shouldn't he? And if enough people did it, it'd put a serious cramp in his plans. Azrael sighed. He knew in his heart, Treize was a noble man. But sometimes...
No sense worrying about what might have been, he thought. Got enough problems in the here and now. The main issue was which side to take. He considered putting the thing on auto-pilot towards the sun but the likelihood of it being intercepted and somehow taken off course was too great. Damn near certain. The Sanq Kingdom was apparently going to being a neutral position with a defense force. Problem was, how long would it remain neutral? And if it did pick a side, which side? Zechs was a great man but he wasn't above corruption. He still struggled at times with identity and that left him vulnerable to the right influence. He damn sure wasn't going to his father's maniacal extremist views. The Colonies were splintered and fighting for one would almost certainly put you at odd ends with the others. The UESA was completely uncooperative to say the least. Most of the Colonies were complaining about what independence, but there were always some that weren't going to go along with that and wanted to remain with the UESA.
And which ones were aligned with Treize and his ideas? He had no clue and that was the issue. In real life, there were precious few moments were there was really a group that was wholly evil. Azrael frowned. Life was never simple. As much as he saw things in black and white, that applied much easier to individuals than groups of people. Groups were a pain in the ass. He let out a sigh. Truth is, any side I join with...I'm screwed one way or another, he thought. Then he had another idea as his head lifted up from his thoughts. Wait a minute...who says I have to choose a side? He had to smirk at that idea. Everyone thinks I have to pick a side...what if I decide otherwise?
He had to grin at that thought. A part of him that was arrogant and rebellious loved the idea of it. But in reality, it made sense. Pick your fights. Each and everyone single one of them. With no allegiance, he could choose which side to fight for whenever he wanted and didn't have to worry about his obligations. Screw 'em, he thought with a rueful grin. THIS time, nobody tells me what to do or who to join. I make my own rules. He had to laugh a bit. Something of a mischievous laugh. This is gonna be great. I don't have to care or worry about who I piss off.
"Hey...Az?! Is that you??"
Az lifted his head up. Blast it! he mentally raged at himself. Got so caught up in my own damn mind... He stopped as he looked at a familiar face, a young man then his shoulders slumped and his face took a sour look to it. Sweet, shivering, sweaty Saint Simon...
"It is you!" Tim said with a beaming smile. A young man of about 27 now, Tim had been a supporter of the organization back when Azrael fought with his father. He had also looked up to Azrael in this ridiculous, boyish fashion that he felt both flattered...and annoyed by. There were times Azrael felt Tim admired more of what he wanted him to be rather than what he actually was. "Holy crap, I can't believe! I mean, wow, do you have that Scorpio around here? I heard it was like the Epyon but--"
Azrael promptly smacked Tim upside the back of his head. "Would you shut up?!" he hissed at him. "You wanna let the whole damn Colony know right where I am and what I have?"
Tim started at the thump then looked at him. "Uh...Az. I hate to break it to you, but everyone knows where you are."
"What?" Azrael said incredously, then started walking again. "C'mere, walk with me for a moment."
"Wow, it's like crazy that I found you here, I mean, it seems like just the other day you and were tryin' our best to free ourselves from the UESA, then you turn around and-"
"Ah, crap," Azrael muttered then cut in with, "Shut up, Tim." He rolled his eyes irritably. Of all the people to get stuck with in this situation...screw me. But he knew Tim was loyal to him. He could overlook his annoying personality in favor of his loyalty. "I'm not here to reminiscence on our glory days. Or lack thereof."
"Okay, so are you like...gonna defend Colony D9 now? I heard you and your old man aren't doing so well. Does this mean you're fighting for the UESA? Or the Sanq Kingdom?"
"I'm not fighting for anybody," Azrael said as he kept walking down the sidewalk with him.
"Whaddya mean?" Tim asked, with a perplexed voice.
"What I said," Azrael stated firmly. "I'm not fighting for anyone. I'm fighting to put an end to this stupid war. I didn't even want involved with this, only reason I got that Scorpio is because I refuse to let my idiot father take off with it on another one of his insane crusades against all things not Colonial."
"Well, you're sure as heck involved now," Tim said blatantly.
Azrael gave him a sarcastic look. "No crap, really? I couldn't tell. I'd have blown the stupid mobile suit up if it had a self-destruct system. But it don't. That's the only reason it's not reduced to parts and scrap metal. I didn't ask for this stupid thing to fall on me, I just did what I thought was right. If it were up to me, I'd have never gotten the thing. It's brought nothing but trouble."
"Well, you're stuck with it," Tim said. "Suck it up, buttercup!" he added in a firm, commanding type voice made to indicate some sort of toughness.
Azrael had to grind his teeth to keep from backfisting Tim right in the ear for that little comment. It was hands down one of the most annoying things that could be told. It was belittling and dismissive of his feelings on the matter, like they weren't even relevant. And was like someone pretending to be some maternal figure to him while acting like he was a child. Treating a very serious military situation with such a careless, ignorant phrase was not only offense to him in that he was being told it by someone far less experience, it was also offensive in that he thought so complex and utterly dangerous a situation could be handled with just an off-hand comment. Furthermore, it didn't help anything at all. It was the worst excuse for any form of advice and made Azrael wish he hadn't even said anything. "Suck it up, buttercup", he mocked mentally. Real easy to say that when YOU aren't stuck with it. Maybe I'll just drop the damn thing on you and see if it's that simple to you. Drop an elite-level Mobile Suit that can turn the tide of a battle right on your hands, you stupid moron. Then let's see your commanding, know-all attitude. Suck it up, indeed. Keep talking like that, you'll be sucking your food through straws. All he said, however, was a simple, "Tim? Don't say that again. Period. Ever. Not of me, to me or in my presence. Only thing you did was make me regret I told you how I felt about the situation."
Tim blinked as he didn't exactly get the reaction he thought. If he had hoped to impress or motivate Azrael, it seemed all he did was piss him off. "Uh...sorry."
Azrael took a deep breath in hopes of getting that hot anger that just started to burn ahole in his chest to cool off, then stopped as something clicked. "Wait a minute. Tim, how did you know I was here?" He turned and eyed Tim carefully. "How did you know I have a Scorpio mobile suit?"
Tim blinked. "Haven't you watched the television? It's all over the news, man. Everyone knows you took it and everyone knows you flew here with it."
A cold fury burned like ice in Azrael's chest as he felt himself go numb from rage. He sold me out...Azrael thought numbly. My freakin' father sold me out to....to everyone. It was the only explanation. His father had to have been behind it. Not even David, not even that scumbag of an uncle would do that. He'd have to admit losing to him despite outnumbering him and that would have been humiliating. His father had made sure the information had gone public. Azrael's right fist clenched so hard, his nails were biting into his palm through the leather glove.
"Where's my father?" He asked with lips that felt bloodless.
"Uh....I've no clue." Tim said. "You think he's coming here?"
I can damn sure guarantee it, He thought as the anger was starting to turn hot again. He struggled to swallow it down and keep it under control. His father exposed him to try and flush him out. He had to be nearby. And if he didn't leave the Colony, he'd eventually come in after him. Both of Azrael's fists balled up in his jacket pockets as his eyesight blurred. I welcome it, old man. This time, I'm putting your crazy group out of business. Permanently. He could feel the burn in his chest even more so.
"Az?" Tim blinked and looked concerned. "Hey uh...you wanna come stay at my place?"
"No thanks, Tim," Azrael said. "Think I'll chill by myself for awhile."
Tim's hand was suddenly on Azrael's shoulder in a comforting way. A rare thing as most people knew Azrael didn't like being touched. "Hey...I'm you're friend, man. Whatever happens, I'm here for you. I still run a mechanic shop workin' on mining mobile suits and all. We got parts, we got everything you need. Tech manuals. I even got a big warehouse we can keep your mobile suit in."
Tim's support and loyalty, despite his annoying personality, definitely helped him calm down a little. Azrael took a deep breath and looked back at him. "Thanks, okay? Look, I'll....I'll stop by later. Gonna go get a few things. Same address?"
Tim brightened immediately. "Yeah, same place! Be like old times, Az! I'll even get some of that Mezzo Mix soda you like and some Lion chocolate bars!" He gave Azrael a friendly pat on the back. "I'll go get stuff ready now, man! You can stay at the place if you want too!"
Azrael nodded as Tim gave a friendly wave and walked back down the sidewalk. Azrael turned to him and called out, "Hey, Tim?...I appreciate it. Really. I do."
Tim just nodded with a smile as they both walked their seperate ways for the time being. Azrael marched right to where the docking bay was, his anger quickly returning. If they were waiting for him a the docking bay or trying to get into his mobile suit, they were in for a rude awakening. He wasn't going to show any mercy this time.
I'll kill you, old man. He thought as his face took a cold scowl. You just crossed your last line with me. You wanna play cold-hearted murderer? You're gonna lose, old man. Badly.
Hahahahaaaaaaaa!