| History
By Joseph Hancock and Aljernon Bolden...
Our history lies in ruin. Whatever records dared be kept to chronicle this wretched age have been lost forever. Pity how little time changes, because once again we find ourselves within a Dark Century. Worse than any technological loss of mobile suits and colonies, the stories of bravery and sacrifice were cast into oblivion.
But our legacy does remain. Documentation means nothing in comparison to the enduring recollection of mankind. Each battle and every heroism lives on inside our souls, never to be forgotten. No tyrant, no wars, no force in existence can erase memories held dear.
If you weren’t around back then, let me iterate the tale. My perception isn’t flawless, but I have been around since this all began. I remember…
… how it felt to stand besides stars. My tiny handprint on the colony window; my eyes widened as I stared into Heaven. We were reborn, an interstellar race. Moon and Earth were again united under the Axis banner, and the fears of a Dark Century were drowned by jovial idealism. It was the dawn of an After Era.
Hundreds of thousands of stars would come to sparkle inside Earth’s orbit during the following decades. Spaceships and mechanical men were already flying outside my doorway. Back in those days, it was only the peaceful resonance of engines that lit contrails in the skies of L2.
It would not last. All those atrocities stored inside White Palace’s archives? They were to come again. Was this a time of peace, or an ignorant quiet before the final storm? My childhood eyes prayed for the latter; my present hatred knows it was the former. When we stood beside stars, we didn’t think ourselves blessed – we fancied ourselves gods.
… the thunderous cries lifting beyond a red dawn. No longer were the masses hand-in-hand, cherishing the kinship under Axis government. The wash of advancement had created an economic bubble that exploded into a deluge of poverty, starvation and famine. The people weren’t crying out against Earth because of oppression; they were challenging it over “fiscal responsibility,” and “the bottom line.” Many turned from the old alliances, and embraced a new form of power: corporations.
Two fans rose to stroke the flames. Anaheim Electronics, a Titan amongst gods. It controlled mobile suit production, but a new threat rose within the womb, threatening that dominance with technologies unimagined in years past. From the shadows, Diego enterprises stole what advancements it could, and bastardized what it couldn’t. And like any empire, Anaheim fought back. At first it was an arms race – a Red Queen March so intense the worker’s hand ran red with blood as the coffers filled for CEO overlords. And soon, the race became an armed conflict. Where there were once flags of nations, battalions of subsidiary companies, platoons of merger buddies, and squads of IPO rose to fill the ranks. But none were laughing.
The Earth Federation tried to keep its peace, but the commercial fist was too heavy for even a government – the government – to handle. Annapolis entered the picture, and with its unlimited resources, took war where other figures only once dreamt. They bought off soldiers, assassinated elected officials, and financed an army capable of taking down Axis. Their triumph was absolute.
And then it ended, almost as abruptly as it began. The pockets were filled enough, it sees. When all was said and done, the CEOs shredded their papers, and left their offices in exile, richer for the suffering and death.
… when warfare fell silent, and we discovered a lost generation. Framed by memories of Annapolis, these wounded children would spark no epic conflict to decide humanity’s fate. Yet they battled, and they died, and their names ring truer across history than any generation before or since. For this was a day of names, and the heroes behind them.
Isaiah Seta, and his forever smile. Geo McKenzie, and one thousand packs a day. Jarren Vekke, on a bitter quest for vengeance. Marquis de Leviamonde, on the path to redemption. Warren Gunn, who stood before the Devil. Draco Alexander, who was the Devil himself.
Anastasia Avalon – for strength and honor. Erik Darius – for the love of nukes. Homura Tatsumaru – in service to his Lord. Ryan Mithanie – in service to the spork. Dari Loic – to discover power in her Mistress. Seppun Dieu – to find truths behind those haunted eyes.
Shin Kurita stood proud at The Aviary. Guy Blithe sulked inside Antiquity. Tessa was to die there. Citation Langston came unto godhood. Eto Hardin searched for cookies. Maria Laliberte managed to live on, and Joshua Okawara died far too young.
... how those children found their war. Brothers corrupted against their will, made to bow before Lucifer’s Mistress. Even the best could not stare her down without temptation. Silver demons spread the seed wherever they tread. Ironic, how death seemed the only escape, as Hell had found its way to Sol.
Coordinators died first. In waves, her minions descended into colonies; onto distant worlds; into every hiding spot they did flea. Akio Okwara died over Venus; Seppun Dieu self-destructed on Mars. No prisoners were taken amongst the genetically blessed, nor did a one become Kindred. All found violent demise. The purge was satisfied in but one week.
Yet all heroes had not been lost. In the shoal of Neo Vegas, a Shuffle Alliance was reborn. The King of Hearts, Queen of Spades, Jack of Diamonds, and the Black Joker – a Gundam Fighter, two Naturals, and one Newtype. Their mobile weapons glowed with the goldest of centered light, and again, the purity of a peoples rested inside symbolism. Four heroes took off inside four mobile weapons, and challenged an entire fallen humanity.
Over Pluto, the final battle raged. Neue Zwei, Gaplant Gustav, Tien-Lung and Heavyarms Custom brought war to a Goddess. Albido Tremaine and Warren Gun fell Dari Loic and her brothers and sisters, emanating with such ferocious righteousness that even Master and Sichel crumbled to dust. Marquis de Leviamonde guided Maria Laliberte into the fury, and while he perished, the ensuing blast freed his charge to meet the Devil himself. She disappeared inside that metallic pool... and four souls saved the universe.
Fanciful? Unbelievable? If it were not truth, I'd say the same.
... a cradle that rocked our legends. Never before and never after would the universe see a collection of gladiators such as these. These were destiny’s children, and Karma’s sons. They would engage in bloody games in the name of domination, in the name of peace, and in the name of love. Each had their own reasons to fight, and each made death beautiful.
They were the definition of After Era: fighting in an age where no faction held power through democracy. No, the only way to garner power was to fight for it, and the men fought, and died, and suckled on the only life they knew how to lead. This was the era of Makura, of Peace & Love Inc, of the Family, of the Phoenix Alliance, of the Black Hand, and of the Vanguard. This was the era of Adam Solaris, Brian Spangler, Donovan Bloom, Tian Wei, Glenn Strife, and a dozen other heroes who would live forever, even after death.
They would push the limits of their abilities, and test the bonds of friendship and teamwork. Like any other age, they would experience the spectrum of emotions, but they lived them all to the furthest possible. They had no bonds to any nation. No, their bonds were to themselves and the teams they fought with. And it was beautiful, a painting using pigments of blood, and a blade for each brush stroke.
And in the end, these men and women who had engaged in bloody games, and tournaments and free-for-alls, and a hundred other conflicts of personal gain and team honor would call each other brothers. For in the end, their existence would be linked by unified purpose.
Their After Era was training ground to harden their spirits for the coming of Marcus.
... the complete resignation we all felt, when a nightmare fell upon Mars. The plague Fleet released vermin into its atmosphere. Black Hand stood fearless – gallant in a resolve to ensure civilians would live on just that much longer. Despite their efforts, all would be killed down to the man – including a legendary Crossbone X^3. This was only the second planet Marcus annihilated, but in those hours, we came to understand futility.
The Family defended L5; Thomas Grotto was captured, and then executed. Dendrobium formed with Heavyarms and Methuss at L4; sworn enemies and devoted lovers died fighting side-by-side. Makura assaulted the asteroid belt, and lost their Double X. Phoenix Alliance perished protecting Eden, and bid farewell to the only salvation we thought would be. Gottraltan stood alone when The Fleet halted at Luna, and became the first to stare Marcus down. Our greatest soldiers met their greatest moments, one-by-one.
Earth was their final stand. On the backdrop of home, with a united humanity fielding any ships they could, ten Heroes of the After Era awaited the silhouette of Marcus’s Fleet. The finest of those who’d survived, each bore a new mobile weapon, bristling with unknown power. It would come down to these men and their suits. They would earn the title of champions. When the tyrannical Neo Newtype was to sortie, they did not blink.
It was over too-suddenly. A battle so ferocious, time may never again witness such unadulterated bravery. Gorkiburu wiped out half the fleet himself. Vash and Vekke and Horn and Strife? A hundred thousand kills to their credit. Tian Wei met his end crippling Marcus’s mobile armor, and Solaris paved a path for the Victory 2 Assault-Butterfly to spread its wings of light.
Three survived, and Marcus wasn’t amongst them. One more would fade during the hours to come. In a moment, there would be celebrations and relief. But at that point in time, above Earth, amidst the debris and frozen corpses of three billion slain, there were only goodbyes.
… a holy silence. The deafening quiet, where once billions screamed across Sol. I remember a generation without fathers or mothers, and of scorched earth and smoldering dreams. I remember the beginning after the end; how, underneath miles of deep ash, a new green formed. The shock would soon fade, and a fresh hope would emerge. We had survived, and we would thrive.
The war’s greatest heroes were immortalized, and parades lasted for weeks at a time. Rivers of bittersweet tears washed away the blood. Mothers could raise their children in harmony, despite the sadness for those mothers who would never see their children become fathers. Soon, the rivers held fish, and the cities of rubble became mortar for the cities of tomorrow. Reconstruction began.
There was peace. A peace that lingered longer than any in the After Era; one that let humanity rise again. An entire generation grew up without knowing the fear of a bombardment, and an entire generation knew of wars only by stories told by crazy uncles who once, a long time ago, fought with the greats.
But peace was only one step in the Endless Waltz, and soon new powers emerged. They were factions with all-too-familiar names: Earth Federation, Zeon, and the Crossbone Vanguard. Each promoted a shaky peace – one that could never last.
In retrospect, it wasn’t a peace at all. It was a chance for mankind to finally say goodbye to its innocence.
The three steps of an Endless Waltz. The three figureheads of damnation. Of salvation and utter regret. We thought we had seen the worst. Perhaps we had, but we also never understood how lucky we had become. Or how the end would start at the beginning. The signs were there, we just didn’t want to look at them. Forty years of peace made us think it perpetual, and our fingers forgot how easy it was to pull the trigger.
Earth Federation, Zeon and Crossbone held their ground from the beginning, each committed to diplomacy in name only, each ready to claim dominance of the known solar system. The Federation and Zeon were led by fools and cowards, and Crossbone … well… his name was Archibald Weathers, and he was neither fool nor craven. And it was he who ended the façade of false peace.
It started at a point, a single action that sent echoes across the galaxy. An installation was destroyed, completely wiped out with no survivors. No one knew who was to blame, so each side blamed another, and in the end, Earth Federation and Zeon were locked in a confrontation.
The point became a line. The battle line was drawn and the armies amassed the largest contingent of ships and units seen since the Revolt. And there was silence. Silence as the universe held its breath, as if about to dive under the freezing depths and no one knew when they would surface again. And when the breath ended, golden specks as far as the eyes could see began to converge, and the battle was on. Hundreds died in the first minutes, but they were only drops in the bucket.
A third point created a curve. A change in frequency and the written plan, for as the battle raged, Archibald Weathers began his agenda. Like a master chess player throwing the greatest stroke ever, his Crossbone Vanguard attacked the meagerly-defended Earth, reaping victory after victory as Earth and Zeon engaged in their bloody. And by the end of the first day, hundreds of thousands were dead, and the Vanguard looked certain for triumph.
And then the curve expanded again, becoming a circle. A red silhouette proclaiming the dawn of the Triumvirate Wars. From the wreckage of the first battle, new leaders emerged: Owise Poobah reigned control of the Federation, while the enigmatic Ming Chow began the Neo Zeon movement. In the coming of Archibald Weathers, these two figures joined together, turning the tide of an all-too one-sided affair. Their genius prevented subjugation under Vanguard rule, but perhaps forced a greater price to be paid.
Weathers was a man of deft plans, and when simple force could not win the day, he presented his Ultimate Investment: a creation which would end the war. But something went awry, and his Investment – one of the greatest platforms of nuclear weapons in existence – was launched towards Earth. Even a combined effort and genius of the two greatest commanders of their generation couldn’t prevent what would happen next…
From Old York, to the Islands of the South, they saw it. Man, woman, and child watched as a great flame erupted from the sky, almost brighter than the sun itself, racing down towards them. They had a minute to realize the truth, before it was all over. The polar caps buckled under the pressure of five hundred thousand megatons of nuclear force, and soon the crust followed. A cosmic storm of epic proportions washed across everything short of Jupiter, and when the dust settled, and eyes could see once again…
… Earth was gone.
... the bells that ushered in a new chance; the children singing their Advent Song. These times have yet to come, but as I know the past, the future is not hard to see. Surprise me, please. Look beyond the sins of Earth, now that you stand untethered. Embrace that sparkle we had in the beginning, standing beside starlight. Prove me wrong. Or he will come...
Either way, you will not see me again. |