Destiny Foretold

[Roromi 456]

CE 75

Major Mikhail

Whoever thought of that was a genius. We all saw the writing on the wall. Two-three years ago maybe? Of course we weren’t all unified. Like any organizations you have your mavericks. Those with the resources and intelligence to break free of the status quo and draw the land in the sand. Those who say, “This is how I’ll do things, how I’ll wage my war.” 

While the other forces would deploy massive weapon units, we worked to perfect our order. We worked to craft a force focused as a hard counter. Indeed, we’re nearly complete. Almost ready for the world to fear the shadows. To fear retribution. 

Those coordinators, those damned space demons. As smart as they think they are, they underestimate us. They would subjugate us. Of course they would never admit it out loud. They showed their true colors with the previous chairman. We know better now. Unlike the loud portion of my comrades, I’ll admit that not all coordinators are bad. I’ve met more than a few. They can be reasonable. But there is a distinct difference with those born on this blue planet, and whose who would perverse the heavens. 

So who is Major Mikhail? I can’t tell you. He’s perhaps one of our greatest remaining assets. Who rallies behind him? People like me. Some who are still brave enough to wear the black uniform; others who wish they could. Those who lives have been severed so severely by the space demons that all they feel is a phantom pain. 

Unlike a ghost, we are quite real, quite potent. The energy crisis made us hungry to all things in this world. Some would crave nothing but peace, and I would agree with the sentiment. Others… well… we crave something far more desirable. A notion that tugs on our very souls and demands satisfaction. The world is far from perfect. While we can’t make things right, we do crave one thing above all others.

Justice.

[Roromi 456]

The fighting in Europe has been almost consistent since Blue Cosmos fell. Durandal, the fool, thought he could purge the world of radicals with a black list of names. Undoubtably, the tactic was effective, and those shrewd cowards turtle shelled themselves into a corner. Idealism holds no financial criteria though, and heroism has many faces. 

The second Bloody Valentine War revealed our true enemies, the winged devils from the PLANTS. The Gundams. While both sides have their own, it’s undoubtable the caliber the Coordinates create with their demons. Sleek, smaller, agile, powerful; amplified by the pilots abilities. A pinnacle of Human Resources. Even I have to begrudge the respect such beauty demand on the battlefield. It changes nothing though.

We too have our demons, three in fact. Each designed to combat the PLANT machines, on equal if not greater footing. If I’m, being honest with myself, our pilots will be hard pressed to combat any coordinator. That being said, our intel suggest the pilots we face are little more than kids who steal their parents cars for a joy rides. It makes them no less dangerous, but they’ll be facing professional soldiers. Pilots we’ve been grooming for this very scenario for many years now. I train daily with our candidates, weeding out the best prospects. Between the real life sorties we face and the simulations; we have a battle hardened group. 

Our unit by design is sleek, no more than six units at any time, and no less than four. Slaughter daggers that have been carefully fabricated and tuned up like hot rods. We always remained stationed on the fringe of conflict. We deploy, not to affect outcomes but to thresh something far more valuable: combat experience. Earth has turned into a virtual Valhalla and only the warrior can thrive. A true crucible to churn out our best candidates for Null Squadron. 

My Dagger, which I have affectionately named Nix, is painted sleek black, grey, and red; old Phantom Pain colors. I don’t care the affiliation it garners, I revel in the fear and myths it undoubtedly instills with my enemies. It probably riles them up to manhunt a unit that is always two steps ahead of them. Yes, we are that good. Always hit and fade, always caution in our strikes. Perhaps its cowardly, but it’s let us thrive. Nix wields the usual armaments, in addition to a GINN sword I keep for energy management. We’ be tweaked the OS to supplement the usage pretty effectively now. 

I get excited still every time I crawl into the cockpit, my realm. I’ve been fascinated with military machinery since a young age, and this timeless fascination prevails even now. When I slide my body into the pilot suit, and seal my helmet; I know its time for dark business. Even though my work is despicable in nature, the excitement and thrill I experience is a sweet sin I will not deny. It’s time for work.