Zhelir stepped into the office, and not a moment too soon.

"Sir," the secretary said, sitting a ways back, behind a desk, "Kaden of L5 has just attempted to establish a connection. Should I accept?"

Zhelir shook his head, "What're you, stupid? Of course. Route it into my office. Wherever, er, that is."

The woman shook her head slightly, then replied, "Top floor - that's 12 - very end of the hall."

"Of course," Zhelir muttered, entering the elevator, "give your boss the farthest walk from the door..."

Zhelir exited the elevator a few moments later, on the top floor, and walked to the end of the hallway. When he opened the door, he had a spectacular view from a window that spenned to cover three of the four walls of his office. In the center was a dark, oaken desk with a very state-of-the-art looking computer placed on it, and a thick, cushy black leather chair behind it.

"Daaaaaamn..." Zhelir cooed, making his way to the chair and pulling out a cigarette. "A guy could get used to this."

He lit the cigarette, and a moment later, the screen came on to show Kaden's face.

"Ahh, Kaden. 'Bout time I met you. Derek never told me 'e had a kid. Whatcha need?"

Zhelir chuckled. Kaden indeed looked like his father's child, though he couldn't fathom who the mother would be, but he decided that would be something best left alone, for now.

"Yeah," Zhelir replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke and grinning through it, "I think Mercurius really got the point across. Might not be the most powerful suit, but it'll hold its own against a Gundam."

He leaned back in the chair and kicked his feet up onto the desk, to which he astonishingly found a small cusion that seemed to be there for this sole purpose. Incredulously, Zhelir continued, "So, how did your entry go? The people seem in favor of the new rule?"

Zhelir shook his head, an ironic grin spreading across his face.

"I'm not certain. Though, I'd suggest you look two places. First, the wreckage of Pegasus, if you didn't search it thuroughly already - and I mean thuroughly.

Second, I'd recomend the wreckage of my old dropship. I haven't piloted the damn thing since back when I worked for Derek, but its wreckage is in Northern America, somewhere. I think around the Mississippi region. I know there was a suit in it when it went down, but I can't recall whose.

You also might ask Sinful. He was more into the plotting and planning of things in }{G than I was, so he might know of a secret hanger. I was put on a more I'll-tell-you-when-there's-shit-blowin'-up-and-we-need-to-get-out-of-here information basis."

"Well," He replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "we do have a couple options. We could send a search party, though I'd go against that. We need someone from }{G on this, if it's gunna be someone from the colonies. So, I could go whenever, I've told the people I may or may not be around.

"Our other option lies with this Okami woman. The one running for office on MO-V. She may have contacts on Earth, she hasn't really expressed any open hostility with the planet that I've seen. She may be willing to get someone on Earth on the job, in exchange for something from us. What that is, I've no idea."

Zhelir finished and brought his boots off from the desk, though still remaining in the sidways position he was in, so he could see out the window past the monitor.

Zhelir gave a quick wave into the monitor, before reaching down to cut the communication. He rose from his seat, almost reluctantly due to its extreme comfort, and walked to the window, peering out over the colony. His colony.

It was a bit unnerving, how similarly Kaden resembled Derek. He must've recieved next to nothing in the physical portion of his mother's genes.

"Guess I should've known he had a kid," he muttered to himself, his breath fogging the window slightly, "he woulda never let himself die without leaving someone behind to carry the tortch."

He gazed out onto the colony a while longer, his eyes tracing over the streets and buildings. He identified the weapons shop, the pub, all the places he frequented anywhere else he had lived. HE wanted to get a good lay of the colony. What's a leader of he doesn't know what's in his own back yard?

Zhelir grinned as the pilot's face winked off the monitor.

"Two Leos..." he mused, "And a new ally." He was overjoyed by this news. Not only did it tell him his ranks were filling out, but it also told him Earth's security could be penetrated easily. And that being the case, there was hope for two things. Two things closely related to what he'd suggested of Kaden not too long ago.

First, to see if he could salvage his dropship, and second, to see if he could find anything of use left on Pegasus. Yes, this was good news, indeed.

Zhelir replaced himself at his desk, after having ushered Belle out, and turned his computer monitor back on. The same images were on it as had been almost immediately after his return from New York's Harbor.

He stared pensievely, at the images before him, repetitiously removing image after image, until it was narrowed down to two. He clicked on his comm and sent a message down to the hanger bay.

I've got a few modifications I need done to Merc'. For now, we'll start with two things: the weapon I'm sendin' ya, and repainting.

A momentary pause, and then came a man's reply. Given the nature of the weapon, I'm guessing you want the color to be blue?

Zhelir chuckled, replying, Somewhat, yeah. I'm sending the scheme to you as well. I think it represents the suit's blend rather well.

Yeah, I guess it does. But you realise you need a serious core upgrade, right?

Zhelir nodded, though the comm was audio-only, and replied, I'm aware of that. For now, I'm gunna to have to settle for alternatin' between the two.

A quick reply through the comm told Zhelir the man would get to work on it. He imagined the first step was to produce the weapon, before anything. Zhelir had realised, only minutes into the New York Harbor, that he needed firepower desperately. The crash shield and defensors were wonderful, but the beam rifle wouldn't cut it, not against a Gundam.

Mother FUCKER! Zhelir roared, failing this time in restaining himself, and drilling his fist into the polished oak of his desk. This achieved only two things: a set of very bruised, possibly broken knuckles, and a set of small indents in the wood.

Panting heavily and rubbing his left first, he continued, Alright, I'll take care of that shit. Do ya have the scans of the cell phone transmissions from the press conference yet?

A moment later, after he had recieved confirmation and a list of numbers, he killed the connection abd brought up the list he was looking for: a list of colony members late on paying their 250k fee. He popped open a comm connection to both Kaden and Sinful's personal comms, and growled, Alright, I'm sure ya both have the reports of the attack by now. I've got a list of truent tax payers, and it looks like there's one's been on the colony for some time and not paid, so I suggest we go knock on a door. It's a stretch, but it's better than nothin'.

Zhelir grumbled, not recieving a response from Sinful's comlink.

Alright, so, it looks like it's you an' me, again. He began, picking up his comlink and walking over to one of the dark oak cabinets in the room. We'll rondevouz in L2's hanger bay. From there, we go to the guy's house, ask a few questions, see what kicks up. Not finding what he was looking for, he proceeds to the next cabinet. Oh, by the way, I got the list of cell signals from the press conference. I'll send it to your comm, you can check it out when ya want, whatever ya need it for. Finally finding what he was looking for, he pulls out a medkit and proceeds back to the desk, gently wraping his now-bleeding knuckles.

He took a thin chord from the back of the computer, inserted it, into the comm, and sent the file he had recieved not too long ago. So, I'll meet you there. I wouldn't bring anythin' big with ya, maybe just a couple pistols. Shit shouldn't get too rough.

Finishing off his knuckles, he opens the lower-left desk drawer and pulls out two massive pistols. Semi-automatic, .454 Casulls. The only ones ever made, as far as he knew. One was a deep crimson red, and the other, a fluid blue. They were odd colors for guns, but he liked them. He stuffed them into their respective holsters and set off for the hanger bay.

Yet another short ride later, he was climbing into a public shuttle, the pilot already haven been given the destination and the order to go as quickly as possible.

Zhelir's face came through a live feed to the weather center. He appeared more haggard and tired than the day he had been elected, and with good reason; being the leader of a colony was difficult enough, but adding on personally hunting down terrorists and leader attacks to Earth, that was downright exhausting.

As he opened his mouth to speak, a cloud of smoke made a quick exit, follow by a short request. Wherever there are no agricultural areas, I want ya' to simulate the weather of, say, the northernmore region of North America in the winter. Snow, cold, the works. I need something help me relax, and I'm sure ya'll wouldn't mind a nice change of scenery, too.

He cut the feed, then cued the office com. Get me Belle Korringat. I've dire need of an assistant.

Zhelir rose from the makeshift bed on the floor of his office, consisting of a blanket on the floor with a small couch pillow and a blanket on top. Another long, sleepless week, another few days passed out in his office. It took him a moment to regain everything his memory had taken in, and subsequently forgot what had awoken him.

"SIR!" Came the roar a second time, "There is a mobile suit battle occuring near the L3 region. Would you please wake the fuck up and at least respond!?"

Zhelir sat bolt upright, his hand slamming down, aiming for the comm switch but missing by a few inches, and slicing the side of his right hand against a letter opener. Throwing a second, less drowsy shot, he succeeded in hitting the switch.

"G'damnit. Tell 'em to prep Merc', I'm headin' out. And send a transmission to whatever of our forces are out there that I'm comin' to join the battle."

He leapt from his makeshift bed and jerked on his flight suit, strewn across the couch nearby. He was down the elevator and out the door in minutes, sprinting full-tilt for the hanger.

Zhelir flew into the hanger, grabbing hold of a safety rail to stop himself. As he took a brief moment to catch his breath, a man approached him, wearing a flight suit similar to his own, but lacking the "}{G" insignia.

"Sir," he began, throwing a quick salute before he plowed on, sensing Zhelir's own urgency, "Name's Tersan Corset. I'm the leader of the Taurus crew that was sent to aid you in Canada. I've been asked to accompany you to the battle."

Zhelir nodded as he strode toward Mercurius' black and gold frame. "Sure thing. Just make sure n' keep your ass outta too much danger, I don't wanna get distracted."

Years in }{G had conditioned him to expect a smartassed remark. However, the man saluted once more and ventured off to enter his Taurus. Zhelir likewise grabbed hold of the lift cable dangling from the cockpit of his Mercurius and took a short trip into the cockpit. As he warmed up the systems, he opened a temporary channel to Tersan's suit. He said nothing, but wanted to be able to contact him in the battle should he be needed.

OOC: This'll be my last IC post for tonight. Headin' off to bed, so feel free to RP Zhelir and Tersan, just do it as lightly as possible.