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No matter how extraordinary the event is, if it persists on a regular basis for any length of time it becomes the new "normality" of life. Such is the case with the Zeon fortress of Baikonour and the Federal forces seiging it. A new dawn breaks over the battlefield, but rather than gunbarrels and warmachines the first rays of light spill over laundry lines and bubbling coffee pots. Behind the lines of foxholes and Big Tray-class land battleships is an immense off-duty area. Assault troops with no orders are allowed to standdown for the time being. Canteens and a small tent city soon sprung up. Positioned far beyond the range of Zeon artillery, it's a sign that the Federal force is here to stay. Inside the battered perimeter walls of Baikonour, the Zeon garrison are also dealing with their new life. It has been informally agreed that staying in buildings is a bad idea, so citizens and soldiers alike went underground. Basements and subterranean rooms are enlarged. Trenches grew in size as soldiers dug deeper crevices. Improvised barracks and storerooms quickly appeared. Then like clockwork, as Zeon and Federal soldiers finish their breakfast, the battlelines groaned to life. Soldiers stretched and dumped their trash before stumbling towards their stations. There is no sense of urgency. In any other occasion besides war, the atmosphere surrounding the troops watching the artillery duel resemble more like a picnic. The distant artillery positions rumbled and boomed, sending dangerous munitions into the sky. The ordeal would last several hours. When it is over, a shout went up and work details went out to clear the dirt thrown up by the new craters. Dinner that night was served under a bright moon as soldiers of both sides settled in for the night. Like a cough compared to the events happening in the rest of the Earth Sphere, a battle rages around Mexico City. A shadow of it's former shelf, the Star One Ground Force Alpha still has a potent firepower. The Big Tray-class Sir Francis Drake was the flagship of General Revil's Odessa campaign, a survivor of a nuclear attack, and prevailed against a plan to capture the vessel. But now she is alone with two Medea Revised against a whole Zeon fortress. Tucked in the a mountainous region, Mexico City presents a formidable foe despite its smaller garrison. The defenders are all too aware of what's happening to other Zeon bases around the world and they resolve to resist as best as they could. The face off between the Federal fleet and the Zeon base began when the Sir Francis Drake open fired with its heavy artillery. Shells crashed into the side of the mountains, causing immense rockslides. From above, the Zeon counterbattery responded immediately. Munitions and ordinance rain down upon the Federal fleet as Zaku II Ks, the primary Howitzer battery, and the Gallop-class Castille Azteca responded with twice the furosity. Eventually a dust cloud rose to engulf the region, signalling a halt to the artillery exchange. As visibility slowly came back, both sides continue to glare at each other while preparing for tomorrow's confrontation. Nigel Ferdinand stood on the bridge of Orange Base. The bridge was a place the Prince of Orange didn't get to occupy often - he seemed to spend most of his time behind a desk - but he made the most of those opportunities. The once-immature commander had grown leaps and bounds since his ascent into space, a fact that Char might have smiled at, had he known about Nigel Ferdinand and the Korps Kommandotropen. Space was where the seeds planted on earth had blossomed, and space was where the harvest would be reaped. He and the 42nd Brigade were poised to take the fortress of Pezun. He thought back on the past few days. Weakened by days of bombardment, its mobile suit complement on the verge of decimation, Pezun was a fruit ripe for the picking. Nigel and Blex had tended it together, two gardeners on the field of battle, driving away pests, assembling workers - and he didn't feel like continuing the metaphor. There were practical concerns to look to now, and he had learned to push extraneous information from his mind, when he needed to. "Orange Base, 42nd, move out!" He commanded, watching as Blex's ships moved toward the stricken fortress. They would attack together, and with their many mobile suits and powerful ships, overwhelm the enemy. Sometimes, simple tactics were best. Sometimes, complicated battle plans never made it from the drawing board to the battlefield. Ruefully, images of his balloon marine attack flashed through his brain - but only for a moment. He saw his best men leave the hangar in their mobile suits: Aurem Senaiha in the Heavy Gundam, Kyle Slater in his Gundam EZ-8, and... the Blue Destiny Unit 2, piloted by demons, and the thorn in his side. In any case, he trusted them to get the job done. Thorvald muttered to himself as the Blue Destiny Unit 2 surged out of the hangar. His fishing pole had been confiscated until further notice, victim of Nigel Ferdinand's short temper, and lack of respect for him and his country's customs. What harm was there in throwing around a bit of bait in a mostly-empty hangar? What harm was there in fishing in space? He understood the bit about being focused in battle, and patted his mobile suit fondly, as if to remind himself that Marion was still there, and to reassure her that he was still there. They had plenty of mobile suits to get through on their way to victory, and he couldn't afford for either of them to harbor any doubts. Hello, Thorvald. I think we're ready. The Blue Destiny shot into the trenches of Pezun, and the Zeon pilots who saw him were afraid. Kyle Slater and Karol Ryder had their own mission, shared with Aurem Senaiha, whose brief instructions had been "Follow my lead." Kyle was accustomed to following orders, and appreciated the flexibility to operate according to the situation, but he still feared that without a solid plan, they might not accomplish their objective. The heavily-armed, heavily-armored Pennemunde, Zeon's finest modification to the Musai-class battleship yet, was certainly intimidating. He steeled himself for a difficult battle, and after some brief banter with Karol, the Gm Command swooped off toward the Musai, leaving Kyle cradling his new GM Sniper II rifle. He wondered if this was how Aurem had felt when he and Arieta were fighting together: Hanging back to take potshots while your friends risked their lives wasn't exactly easy. Aurem was certainly not thinking of Arieta. In fact, he was thinking about anything but Arieta. he was the Paladin, and his war was a just one, his retribution deserved. Nothing could atone for the life of his Arieta, but he would work to even the balance. Killing was a fine name for a man who did so much of it, and his Musai Final a fitting coffin. He drew his suit's railcannon, now a familiar armament, and threw himself into a gap in the anti-aircraft fire. This would be a fierce battle, and if the blood spilled could not repay a tenth - nay, a thousandth! - of what Arieta deserved, it was still a fraction, and that was enough. The Heavy Gundam danced as his fingers flew across the controls, his eyes flashing over the readouts and monitors. Piloting a mobile suit was second-nature to him now, and he avoided the increasingly-thick anti-aircraft fire almost without thinking, directing railgun shots to where he guessed the fire was coming from. He hit the Musai's guns again and again. He was no Newtype, as the legends said, but his spatial awareness and finely-honed reflexes put him on par with some of them. Killing's Musai groaned as shot after shot from Aurem's railcannon struck the giant battleship. C'mon Kyle - Don't let me down! He'd barely thought it before a series of sniper rifle bursts hit the side of the already-flagging ship, and it began to break apart, the negative pressure of space ripping it to shreds. Killing, a man of cruelty, rage, and Zeon, was dead. Aurem replaced the railgun on one of his hardpacks - it was mostly empty anyhow, and reached for his beam rifle. There was still work to be done on the ground. He motioned for Karol to join him, hoping the kid was still there, and smiled grimly as the GM Command slid into view. "Nice shooting Aurem! Now let's give that Suggurdson some support!" By the time they arrived on Pezun, Siggurdson didn't need any help. As missile barrages and megaparticle beams streaked over their heads, from the remaining Musai, Orange Base, and the Manticore, they dropped down to the ground of Pezun to see nothign but devastation. Pieces of Pezun Dowdages, Galbaldy Alphas and the old Zaku IIs mixed with pieces of GMs on the torn landscape. Thorvald was standing off by himself a ways off. The Blue Destiny had taken some damage from the advanced Zeon mobile suits, but it was far from serious. He wouldn't have entered another battle, just then, but he was enjoying the relative calm that came when a battle transitioned from chaos to mop-up operations. Suddenly, a large mobile armor appeared over the crest of the hill, a GM impaled upon one of its large scythe-like claws. "What in the name of God's green earth and its ale-drinkin' inhabitants is that?" Thorvald asked, turning to face the new threat, along with Aurem, Kyle and Karol. "I don't know, but it's fast!" Kyle yelled, diving behind a large rock as the Zakrello accelerated past at an incredible speed, slashing with its claws! "I dinnae expect it to move like that!" Thorvald yelled, brandishing the Blue Destiny's beam saber. But let's see how well it fares against the four of us together! "For Arieta!" "For Nora!" "For Kelly!" "For the love of Christ, just kill it!" yelled Thorvald, as he lept toward the enemy mobile suit, which was coming in for another pass. Thorvald replaced his beam saber in the suit's recharge rack, as the mobile suit fell into two non-functioning pieces, shortly before exploding spectacularly. "That was easy." "Tell Kelly that I love her, when you find her." The Zakrello had managed to fire its scattering beam cannon before it had been diced by Thorvald, and a round had grazed Karol's cockpit - grazed it just enough to destabilize his reaction, and cause the resulting explosion. The cleanup operation was slow, and bloody, but at the end of the day, Pezun was in Federation hands. Nigel watched his pilots return one by one, marking those absent with grief to match the gladness he felt on seeing familiar faces once again. There were always more letters to write. The fact that Pezun was theirs was a large comfort, but it was just that - only a comfort. Nigel Ferdinand: 9 VP Gained, No Damage Aurem Senaiha: 9/2 VP Gained, Repairing +2 Kyle Slater: 10/2 VP Gained, Repairing +2 Thorvald Siggurdson: 9/2 VP Gained, Repairing +2 Space separates all living things - no matter how close they may appear to the naked eye. Even under magnifying glasses, microscopes, between atoms - there is space. And yet, humankind has managed, transferring ideas, communicating attractions and repulsions, reaching through space to change something in a different space. It was across space - vast reaches of it - that the war was being fought now. Humanity continued to reach across the space that separated them from their kin, though crudely, with simple ideas that could be carried with missiles and megaparticle beams. Over space, they fought, and in it. One of the many questions that rang in their hearts was simply this: "Who will survive?" Or would space be all that was left, when they were finished fighting? This was the kind of battlefield that Yoritomo Naizen enjoyed fighting on. The opponents were miles and miles away - far out of sight, and even sensor range. But it was not the empty space in between that he relished, it was the fact their their katana was significantly longer than their opponents'. He who landed the first blow in a battle often was the one to strike the last. And they, with the talented Newtype Lalah Sune, would certainly strike first. Veronica Wu and her Chivvay-class Athena's Wrath were parked nearby, to defend the budding Newtype pilot and her mobile armor in the unlikely event of a counterattack. Veronica Wu was the very picture of a hard-pressed Zeon commander: Coffee in hand and an array of maps spread out neatly before her. Various status reports and intel from all parts of space filled any open spaces on the large table. There were always many seemingly-good tactical choices, and it was her job to ensure that the course of action she chose was the best for the Zeon Expeditionary Force, and, more importantly, for Zeon. She would never attack the Grand Fleet head-on, but the chance offered by the Elmeth seemed almost too good to be true: To strike at the enemy without him having the chance to strike back was a tactician's dream. She just had to make sure that their weapon survived to attack again. For this task, she had brought Zeon's finest pilots with her: Battle-hardened men and women who could hold their own in a fight with 3 normal pilots. She listed them in her head: Caleb Ddegrau, Olivia Baklitskaia, Ray Walker, Yoritomo Naizen, and Junichi Ghettid. With these, she could protect Lalah from whatever small resistance the Federation was likely to mount, on such short notice. They would never see this attack coming, and with any luck, they would never see it leaving either. "So I said, 'The Red Comet, of course!'" Breakfister burst out laughing at his own joke, which was only slightly less ridiculous than he himself was. Despite appearances, the young pilot was one of the most talented in space, and his piloting skills had helped him make a name for himself at least as much as his Zeon uniform and boisterous attitude. His recent kills at Solomon had only made him more puffed-up, and the ace couldn't believe that anything in this war could stand in his way. Lutz Leon tried to smile, but his mind was elsewhere. The recent engagements had left his Powered GM moderately damaged, and he sensed that another battle was coming. Hell, he knew another battle was coming, and chances were it would come before any of them were quite ready for it. He shifted uneasily in his chair, as he turned his attention to Vaan Kashky, who was explaining how he had been assigned to the Prototype Gundam that he currently piloted. It was a story they'd all heard several times already, but Vaan never seemed to tire of telling it. On the bridge of the Salamis-class Ruby, Ray Tatsuma also sensed that someone was going to go wrong. Their push into space had gone well so far - no one would argue with that, but it had somehow gone too smoothly. Where were the Zeon aces? Where were Zeon's fabled Newtypes? Surely they were not holding anything in reserve now, were they? Was Zeon exhausted, as Revil had famously said? Had they done it, or were they walking into a trap? A man had to ask these sorts of questions if he wanted to captain a ship, and he had to have good answers for them if he wanted to be an excellent captain. Ray was still learning, but he was doing one of the things that all good commanders did: Thinking. "I think we'll win this war," Evander offered to his crew. "But it doesn't matter what the hell I think, if you don't do your duty! There will be consequences for any of you that run from battle, or disobey orders - serious consequences." Creed knew that strict discipline was a must on any military ship, and his was the strictest, the penalties for failing to uphold it, the most extreme. His was the way of brute force, and the massive size of the Grand Fleet lent itself well to his way of thinking. They would crush any who stood in their way. Abruptly, alarms started going off, and the ship was rocked by a massive explosion, that would have thrown Evander off-balance, if his hands were not firmly wrapped around a handrail on the bridge. "Launch the mobile suits! Mount a counterattack! How the hell did you let Zeon units so close to the Richmond?!" He screamed at the crewman operating the radar, pulling out a beltknife as he did so. "There aren't any Zeon units, sir!" The private gulped, blood draining from his face, not daring to look away from his instruments, for fear of being accused of shirking his duties. "Then why is my ship exploding, private?!" "I don't know, sir! The fire seems to be coming at us from almost every angle, but there's nothing on the scanners! See for yourself!" The man gestured frantically toward the instrument, but Evander had not taken a course in navigation recently, and all he saw were the dots of the Grand Fleet. "I better get some answers quick, or I guarantee you'll be dead before the Zeeks can kill you!" Evander threatened, moving closer. "Sir, we're receiving a message from White Base. Amuro and Breakfister Turbulance have sensed a Zeon presence a few clicks away. They're heading over to investigate, and have requested we join them." The comm officer stared, stone-faced, at his commanding officer. "What devilry is this? A few clicks away? No Zeon battleship can attack from that far away, private! Still, we shall follow White Base. The Devil damn us all if this is some kind of trap." As the Bollocks fleet split off from the Grand Fleet to investigate, moving at full speed through the space surrounding Konpei, the ships of the Grand Fleet groaned under the mysterious assault. Attacks came out of seemingly nowhere, and they could not avoid what they could not see - only hope that those they had sent to investigate Amuro's "hunch" would not return empty-handed. Caleb Degrau was ready. They were invincible, with their Newtype weapon. Soon, the war would be won; there was no other conceivable outcome. Certainly, their offensive on Earth had suffered some setbacks, but in space, Zeon ruled. Space was where the future of humanity lay, and space was where Zeon's rule would extend, the Earth be damned, if necessary. Scouts had reported that a few Federation ships were headed toward their position, but the tidings neith surprised nor worried Caleb. They would get what was coming to them. Obviously, they had some sort of Newtype detector with them, but they would destroy it. The stories of Amuro Ray could not be true; why would a Newtype serve such a backwards government, based on an Earth full of backwards-thinking people? A man born in space should understand that freedom was something that ought to be recognized and respected by everyone. Anyway, it did not matter. Their orders were to protect the Newtype weapon at all costs, and the Federation detachment was almost certainly coming to investigate their position. He glanced back at the Lucifer's Fury, in all its glory, and his fellow pilots, arrayed in front of it. They'd give the Federation a screwing they'd never forget here today, kick them back through the space they'd traveled, back to Solomon, back to Earth! His Gelgoog Cannon felt very responsive today, and he could not wait to try it against whatever the Federation had to offer. Ray Walker, on the other hand, was not feeling very at home. The Ranch was miles and miles away, and the lone Gattle was dwarfed by the larger mobile suits. Still, he had at least one ace up his sleeve. He checked to make sure the anti-ship warhead was still firmly attached to the suit, and then resumed his relaxed position in the cockpit. The fact that he was carrying something with enough explosive power to annihilate 50 of what he was piloting bothered him only a little. Anything that managed to destroy the warhead would have probably killed him anyway. Anyway, he was hoping that the Federation aces would be too preoccupied with the more pressing threats to notice a lone space fighter drifting slowly toward one of their ships. He hoped. All too soon, the Federation detachment was upon them. Ray Tatsuma's calm orders joined Evander Creed's harsh screams, and Veronica Wu's measured, carefully plotted plans. Kai Shiden, piloting the Guncannon, swung his unit around to engage Olivia Baklitskaia in her Gelgoog. Her high-performance unit might have intimidated the Kai of a few months before, but this Kai was stronger. The fact that he was fighting for his friends had galvanized his resolve, and he made the Guncannon do things that Olivia had never imagined such a suit could do, twisting impossibly through space, dodging, and firing. If the man was half as good in bed as he was in space, she'd overlook the fact that he was Federation. They danced for what seemed like hours, trading shots back and forth, never scoring decisive hits, until Olivia found an opening. Realizing that Kai had no melee weapons, she came in close with the Gelgoog's beam sword, yelling wildly. But Kai was ready for this; it wasn't the first time that a unit had tried to take advantage of his pitiful melee range. He took careful aim at the weaving mobile suit, and fired the Guncannon's twin 240mm cannons. The 9-inch rounds struck Olivia's Gelgoog squarely in the chest, and her unit drifted back toward the Athena's Wrath, lifeless, as Olivia, anything but lifeless, cursed unit's lack of responsiveness. Elsewhere, Junichi Ghettid had found an unlikely opponent in Hayato Kobayashi, whose awkward-looking Guntank was somehow managing to avoid death at the hands of his highly-maneuverable Kämpfer. He had tried several approaches already: The Jagdgewehr shotgun, beam sabers - even a panzerfaust round - but the squat mobile suit evaded death even harder than Junichi sought it. The fight, however, was one-sided anyway. Despite Hayato's piloting skill, the Kämpfer had the upper hand. It had already scored several hits on the unit's armor plating, and though the damage was not life-threatening, neither was it inconsiderable. The Zeon suit was just too maneuverable for him to line up a shot with the non-rotating 180mm cannons. Junichi had already evaded and exhausted his suit's supply of missiles. Unless a miracle happened soon, there would be no Guntank returning to White Base. Lutz Leon and Vaan Kashky came roaring into the fight together, in their Powered GM and Prototype Gundam, respectively. Their beam sabers were drawn, and despite their damage, Junichi was hard-pressed to hold against their relentless assault. He made sure, certain cuts at their armor, and slowly, despite being outnumbered 3 to 1, gained the upper hand. Suddently, the two Federation pilots broke off their assult, splitting off in either direction - a poor choice, in Junichi's estimation, as they'd be easy pickings one-on-one - but Hayato and the Guntank had not left the battle. The 180mm rounds tore through the Kämpfer's thin armor, destroying both of its arms. Junichi cursed as he retreated back to the Athena's fury, hoping that a backup unit could be prepared in time for him to carry out his revenge. Yoritomo Naizen had traded many shots with the Federation mobile suits, and sent a squad of GMs and their pilots to the empty grave of space, when he was set upon by three pilots at once. The battlefield advantage had turned to his opponents, and he retreated slowly, reluctantly, calling for assistance from anyone nearby. A Powered GM with part of its legs trailing behind it fired its machinegun at him, but he was far too fast to be caught by the unit's clumsy attack. Using the Act Zaku's magnet-assisted joints to push the unit to its limits, he brought his mobile suit around in a tight curve, spinning to return fire at some kind of Gundam - surely not Amuro! - who was limping along with a damaged head. He smiled, satisfied, as the enemy unit lost an arm to his beam rifle, and turned with his beam saber to deal with a GM Command that was swooping into melee range. Somehow, the pilot seemed to anticipate his block, and the slice at his chest turned into a stab-and-slice at his unit's leg, which he soon saw floating through space in front of him. But he was not done yet: Pulling another magazine for his Jagdgewehr from his backpack storage rack, he quickly reloaded, covering the action with his vulcans and an impossible shot with his remaining panzerfaust. The enemy unit had obviously not expected the attack while he was reloading, but it somehow managed to dodge, spraying a stream of beam fire from its beam rifle as it did. Yoritomo, though, had expected his opponent's dodge, and Breakfister Turbulance stared in disbelief as the shotgun round tore into his GM Command, ending his chances of telling the story of how he had defeated the Red Comet and his minions in single combat - or at least telling it honestly. But Naizen had no time to pursue the crippled unit; there were plenty of other fish to fry, so to speak, and he jetted off into the area that he judged to be the most tactically-advantageous. Ray Walker sighed in relief as the melee toward which he had been heading, which separated him from the nearest Federation ship, dissipated. How very neighborly of them, to part like the Red Sea before me. The Gattle continued to putter through space, doing a fair job of avoiding whatever stray machinegun, beam and missile fire came its way, until Ray decided that he was close enough. The anti-ship warhead streaked toward White Base, with enough explosive power to blow two of them sky-high - or at least, Ray Walker hoped so. It rapidly ate up the space between him and the ship, and he imagined the size of the resulting explosion, the accolades that would be heaped upon him, and how the power of the lowly Gattle would be recognized throughout the solar system. It was a glorious vision, but only that. Amuro Ray and the Gundam G3 were out of White Base, and the anti-ship warhead exploded, with enough force to rock White Base, but nothing more. Amuro looked hard for the originating unit, but he had little time to spare for dealing with any mobile suit's besides the ones he sensed. And besides, he didn't even see any mobile suits that could have fired something like that. He certainly didn't feel the presence of Ray Walker, hiding his Gattle behind a piece of space debris, thanking his lucky stars that he was not a Newtype. Not many Zeon pilots fired an anti-ship warhead that close to Amuro and lived to tell about it. He began the long ride back to the Athena's Wrath, for a refill on his spent ordnance. "Char!" Amuro yelled, his face a contorted knot of rage, as he spied Char's trademark mobile suit, hiding behind an asteroid with a presence he recognized to be Lalah. As they had so many times before, they dueled. Their passion was incredible, their skill phenomenal, and as they danced through space, each felt the strain that he put on the other pilot. Amuro was impressed by the G3's handling - maybe magnets really did make everything a bit more awesome - and Char was hard-pressed to keep up with the young Federation ace. They traded shots with their beam rifles for a time, then moved to beam sabers, clashing fiercely. Char grunted, as he realized his suit could not stand up to the Gundam G3 one-on-one, and that maybe Amuro had surpassed him, despite his short training. Newtypes really were the future of mankind. He needed time, to think of a strategy suitable for defeating his enemy; he needed to create an opening. He jumped back, bracing himself against an asteroid behind him, but the Gundam G3 followed him more quickly than he had thought possible. "Char!" Amuro yelled again. He had pressed his advantage, and he had won. He drove his Gundam's beam saber deep into... Green. The mobile armor in front of him was green. Lalah. Lalah, no! He felt her slipping away, felt her body failing, as the beam saber pierced the cockpit. Lalah! It was too late. He stared at the space between him and Char, where Lalah had once lived and lived no more, and knew that even if he could pour every drop of grief into that space, he couldn't fill it; he couldn't bring back Lalah. She could not be replaced. The smile on Breakfister's face froze, and his eyes unfocused, as he felt... emptiness. It was as if he had lost something very important to him. He looked down at his Zeon uniform, and at the battered Gelgoog he had been engaging, and realized he had stopped fighting. Everyone had. He looked around wonderingly. Why had they stopped? Another wave of emptiness struck him. Why had they started? Caleb Degrau was alone, but this time, he felt it. He had not stopped pushing the entire time he'd been in combat, but for some reason, he let the GM in front of him go sailing past, as he himself drifted forward. What was this sadness that he felt? He glanced over at the Magellan beside him, thinking back to how he had planned to put a cannon round in it, but it all seemed so foreign to him now. His aggression had been subsumed in grief, though he could not tell its source. He made his way back to the Athena's Wrath, broken more in spirit than in mobile suit. Veronica Wu was stunned. She had not felt this way since Sun had... No, this was deeper. This is what she would have felt, had she allowed herself, and more. It was terrible, how broken things were. She glanced at the retreating Federation fleet. They ought to pursue, press their advantage, but she couldn't bring herself to give the orders. She needed to... leave this space. Mobile suits, sworn enemies seconds ago, drifted past each other, no longer interested in fighting, as the death of Lalah Sune, Newtype, radiated through the space around Konpei. As the battleships and mobile suits of both sides went their separate ways, driven by a sadness they did not fully understand, the memory of battle faded into the quiet calm of space. It had come at a steep cost, but the legacy of Lalah Sune was peace. Caleb Degrau: 6 VP Gained, Repairing 3 Olivia Baklitskaia: 7 VP Gained, Repairing 3 Ray Walker: 6 VP Gained, Repairing 2 Veronica Wu: 7 VP Gained, No Damage Yoritomo Naizen: 7 VP Gained, Repairing 4 Junichi Ghettid: 6 VP Gained, Repairing 3 Breakfister Turbulance: 7/2 VP Gained, Repairing +2 Lutz Leon: 8/2 VP Gained, Repairing +2 Vaan Kashky: 8/2 VP Gained, Repairing +1 Evander Creed: 7 VP Gained, No Damage Ray Tatsuma: 8 VP Gained, No Damage Arleanna Kerrigan: 7/2+1 VP Gained, No Additional Damage |