High above the skies in Central Canada, the American Union's new aerial Mobile Suits flew in formation. As the Union Flags flew by in formation, a singular black Union Flag flew behind them, with a Dish AWACS further behind, preparing for the test runs ahead. "Ensign Michael Haley, the Dish AWACS is in position. We also have Spearheads on the flanks for additional recording should we lose track. You're green to follow the course route in fifteen seconds," the lead Union Flag pilot orders, as the black Union Flag accelerated up ahead, taking it's position.

"Roger that, uploading the course route now, digital course displaying now, disabling restrictions now," Michael responds, as the clock ticks down. Watching with anticipation, the timer ticked down to zero as he gripped the controls.

"Three, two, one, Overflag, beginning course now," Michael states, as the first checkpoint appeared straight ahead.

Pushing the throttle to its maximum, the aerial Mobile Suit lurched forward as Michael was slammed back into his seat as it easily flew threw the first ring. Appearing directly overhead, the Overflag pulled up sharply to hit the next checkpoint with ease. As the A.I. pointed out the next ring immediately, Michael pushed downward on the stick and performed a barrel roll to the right, performing a downward S-turn to barely line up the ring in time. Banking hard to the left, Michael jerked to the right after hitting the next ring, as the A.I. indicated the next one, pointing downwards. Pointing itself straight down to the Earth, the Overflag reached the next ring, as Michael's eyes widened at the next checkpoint, directly back the way he came. Deaccelerating and pulling up hard, the Overflag did a hard Immelmann turn, Michael barely keeping his focus as he accelerated again to prevent from stalling as he flew straight back up at the final checkpoint. Flying through it and leveling off, Michael slowed his black Mobile Suit down, as he briefly started to cough up blood. "Son of a bitch...this is Ensign Michael Haley, did you get all that?"

"Ensign, our Flags could barely keep track of that thing, the Spearheads were able to get video footage where we couldn't. I don't know what you did, but that new Flag outpaces our Union Flags by a lot in speed and maneuvering. We'll head back to Supply Station Gram for debrief."

Flying back to Gram, the group of Flags landed on the runway and parked themselves in the available hangar. Climbing out, Michael wiped away the blood from his mouth and took a few moments to catch his breath, looking up at the machine. "Just...what the hell is this thing?"

Raylan scoffed at the idea of being executed. The scar in his arm was a reminder of what would happen to him if he acted out again.

"You figure the cocksuckers could implant a microchip without making it fucking hurt." Raylan sighed as he went back to work and turned the wrench. He was making sure his Aries was flight worthy and no bolts or nuts had been loose. He had one too many close calls because of poor inspection on his part. "One too many." He smiled. He only wished he had a camera in the cockpit so he could of seen the look on his face as his mobile suit spun out of control.

"You know Raylan if you weren't such a jackass and planned ahead for once you wouldn't have shit happen to you." A grizzled mechanic interrupted. Raylan smiled and pointed the wrench at the older man.

"I like to make things up as a I go along....Improvising is my forte!" Raylan's smile grew. "Besides! Life is too damn boring when you spend all of your time planning. You need to get out there and just do something." He nodded to himself in agreement reassuring himself on his own views on life.

"That why you murdered someone?" The mechanic replied back. Raylan narrowed his eyes in frustration.

"That was a dispute over a female companion." He retorted.

"So you killed a guy over some whore?" The mechanic teased. Raylan stared at him as he tightened his grip around the wrench. He took a deep breath as he placed the stainless steel tool on the ground.


"I'm gonna take a break before I do something that I may live to regret." He turned and made his way down the platform. The mechanic looked on stunned as he scratched the top of his head.

"I was just kidding." He said to himself as Raylan walked out of the hanger. Raylan shoved his hands in his pockets as he continued to walk out on to the airfield. He would never be able to live down his crime in South America. It seemed to haunt him no matter what. The only thing that saved him from the hangman's noose was war. He looked up to the sky in wonder and admired the beauty of its color. He could hear the sound of engines and he quickly turned his head in the direction of the sound. He could see the back end of the new Flag fighter as they pulled into a available hanger.

"Well that is interesting." He remarked to himself as he ran toward the hanger, eager to see the new mobile suits for himself.

Quinn had been parked within the hangar for over an hour. He had been sitting in the cockpit of a lifeless Union Flag. He didn't feel to do a practice run, so instead he sat behind his controls and pretended to be airborne and in a dog fight. Sound effects were flying out of his mouth, whether it were a "pyoo pyoo" or a couple of "ratatatatatatatat's" as he imagined himself tearing down the enemy, the imaginary enemy, one by one. There was a huge smile, all teeth, shining and a pair of goggles placed over his eyes.

"Ahhhhh, this is too awesome!" He shouted to himself. "Can't wait to blow something up for real"


As he stopped making noise, the chatting of two men could be heard. There conversation was weird, plus it barely made any sense to him, but that was probably because he didn't hear the full conversation. Shrugging, Quinn exited the cockpit, but kept himself hidden as to not piss the two off on account of eavesdropping. More mobile suits had landed and taken refuge in the hangar. Quinn leaned over to see the arrival of a few more Union Flag's.

"Awww, I thought I was the only one piloting this thing. So not exclusive. Kinda sucks now. Guess i'm just gonna have to pilot it better than these guys" He had stopped. "Oh cool, a black one. How did he get custom paint done?......Pimp my Flag somebody"

As he leaned more, Quinn lost his footing, fell off his mobile suit....."Oh shit!" and fell right onto his ass.

*THUD!*

Immediately did he rise to his feet, holding the sore crevice of his ass. A shriek that rivaled that of a teenage schoolgirl at a pop icon concert came from Quinn as he kept rubbing the soreness away.

"Where did you...Ahem.....um....Get the custom paint done?" Quinn asked as his voice went from schoolgirl to puberty stricken schoolboy.

Marcus simply shrugged as he looked over the maintenence forms and ordinance requests he had filed at the base. He was leaning on the wall outside a smaller sub-hangar that contained his tank squadron, currently 3 Type 61's, and a bevy of unused and dusty machining benches. It was the best spot he was getting, as it was becoming obvious he played second fiddle to the growing numbers of mobile suit pilots. Hell, they couldn't even give his unit proper accomadations despite the fact they were mostly veterans.

"We're only here for a day or two," the approaching Einstein blurted out as he prodded Cohen's shoulder with a cup of coffee. "So lighten up. We'll get our due when our new Unit moves to the southeast!"

"We'll see about that. They're running short on cannon rounds at this base, and they don't seem to be in the giving mood..." He replied, taking the coffee and stealing a taste. "Our transport plane should be loaded and refuelled within a day, and then hopefully we'll be back in action. Until then, you are to watch the tanks and avoid contact with other units."

"Buy why? I was going to see what kind of ladies they had around here, maybe get a little somethin...." Einstein tried to finish but a gloved hand suddenly appeared in front of his face.

"This is precisely why you will be staying in the hangar tonight. I don't need you under court martial and I certainly do not need you pissing off anyone." Marcus said in the stern and absolute tone a father would take with a child, "Further.... we're not exactly going to rub shoulders with the others here, most of them are pilots. So get your ass over to our unit and make sure everyone is up to date on their maintenence and that you calibrate the turret in our own tank. Dismissed."

With a flick of his wrist, Tank Gunner Einstein gave the middle finger to his commanding officer and took off into the depth of the hangar, toward the idling relics they were charged with. Marcus would love more than anything to take a swing at the little bastard and throw him under his tank, but he was currently one of the best men he had at his disposal.
The tanks driver, Rusty, was already hard at work on making the Type 61 they used stand out as something to be proud of. Outside of battlefield communication and training exercises, he barely spoke to Rusty or the others, that blathering idiot Einstein was the exception.

However, their drills and training were frequent, almost double what a unit should be engaged in. He pushed his men hard to keep them sharp and alert, since he knew the enemy had them outnumbered and outgunned. Only through dedicated training and constant vigilance would the Unit survive the next encounter. The softer recruits and transfers sent to him quickly burned out and left, leaving only the strong and dedicated troops he desired. He couldn't afford or allow weakness in the face of enemy aircraft or mobile suits, and never again would he be caught off guard like he had been in Asia years prior.

With another shrug and a displeased glance at the red text denying him additional supplies, he crumpled the paperwork he held and dropped it to the ground. Sipping what was left of his coffee, he turned and strolled down toward a view of the airfield proper, hoping to catch a glimpse of these high tech variable mobile suits.[/color]

"Careful lads, this machine is still partially classified. It's called the Overflag, and I can't say much more than that, at least not for a few more days. The name's Ensign Michael Haley," Michael starts, looking at the two soldiers who approached. Getting off the wall, Michael walked back over to the Overflag and looked up at it. "And this isn't a custom paint job, from what I've heard this is the normal color scheme," Michael continues, watching as the mechanics go over the machine.

"The good news though is the machine's gonna be featured at California Base in a few days. Maybe then you'll start hearing some declassified info later," Michael continues, looking back over to the two.

Quinn remained astounded by the Overflag. The very look of the machine gave him the sensation that he was in this for real. Don't get mistaken by his notions, the Union Flag was an impressive machine, but it didn't look like the heavy metal that war machines should be. Quinn's mobile suit was all about speed with precision, which was his thing, but he hadn't taken it into the field to test it, nor had he seen any battles. These guys, they were the real deal.


"Cooooooool. May I fly it?" Quinn looked to the pilot. "It's looks too awesome!"