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Coming Home (Rural Australia)

a topic in Gundam Wing: Continuing Legend, a part of the RPG forum.

Original GWing Storyline, now AC 202.

Coming Home (Rural Australia)

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Copen on Fri Sep 30, 2005 8:36 pm

OOC: Since none of you thought to put a continent up for Australia, I'll just have to use the Asian forum.

"Patricia Walker gazed out between the curtains covering the windows of her kitchen as she heard the familiar sound of her son’s school bus pulling away from their lane. Sure enough, she spotted her son Marshall running up the driveway as his bus driver accelerated down the dirt road. Marshall’s mother was always delighted to see him sprint eagerly towards the house, his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles school bag swaying spastically from side to side on his back while his superhero lunchbox flapped wildly in his left hand.

Turning off the water faucet, Mrs. Walker dried her hands on a towel next to the sink and walked to the door to greet her only child. Feelings of satisfaction always filled her when she would sit down and listen to him ramble to her about his day at Irwin Elementary. Marshal always made schoolwork, recess, and his friends seem more exciting than anything she did at home that day and he always seemed so happy to be home with her.

Sure enough, the boisterous twelve-year old burst energetically through the door just as his mother came around the corner from the kitchen.

“Mom! I’m home!”

“I can see that,” the boy’s dark-haired mother said with a hint of a laugh in her tone.

“You’ll never guess what I found at recess!” Marshall announced eagerly as he weaved his shoulders out of his backpack and dropped his lunchbox on the floor of the front hall.

Expecting an arrow-head or a similarly interesting artifact for her son to reveal from the depths of his bag, she leaned forward and peered down expectantly as her son’s had dug vigorously through its contents. Marshall’s tongue protruded through his lips as he gazed upward in concentration, blindly feeling through the loose papers, candy-wrappers, folders, and other miscellaneous items found among any young boy’s school things.

“Gotcha! Here!” Marshall exclaimed triumphantly and thrust forth a very fat, very irritated bullfrog barely contained in his left hand.

“AIIE!” Patricia shrieked in surprise and horror as she stood nose-to-nose with the slimy amphibian. In her recoil from the creature, she slipped in her house slippers and fell butt-first onto the wood floor beneath her flowery dress.

Unfortunately, the bullfrog then chose that time to struggle against Marshall’s insecure hold and leapt from his hand onto the startled housewife’s blouse. Further screams of disgust encouraged him to leap off of his victim’s stomach and make his way towards freedom, the open door.

“Hey! Come back!” Marshall turned and reached desperately with both hands, attempting to recapture his prize, but the frog leapt out of his reach in his journey to the outside world. With his mother’s prone form in his way, the poor boy tripped, falling over Patricia’s legs and allowing his quarry to escape.

“Aaww…” the young boy mourned as he watched the frog hop out the door and into the family’s yard.

Patricia tried her best to hide a smile, but the urge got the better of her and a stifled laugh escaped her lips as she reflected upon the situation. Marshall turned to her with an expression of disappointment, but soon found the humor that had come over his mother to be contagious, letting out a hearty giggle himself.

“Come on,” Marshall’s mother said as she got to her feet, “Go wash your hands. They’ve probably got all sorts of germs on them from that nasty thing.”

“Okay,” the boy mumbled, his voice revealing a tone of regret as he remembered “that nasty thing”.

“Don’t worry,” Patricia told her son, patting his head, “I’m sure you’ll be able to find him again, maybe even this weekend. After all, he probably won’t get much farther than our yard.”

“Really?” Marshall asked hopefully, looking up at her.

“Sure,” she replied as her hand ruffled his medium-length brown hair before adding, “but next time, leave him outside.”

“Alright,” he conceded before walking off to the bathroom. The sound of running water could be heard washing over his hands while the savory aroma of fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies wafted out of the kitchen. Rejuvenated at the prospect of his mother’s treats and the stories he had to tell her, Marshall quickly rinsed his hands and dried them off with the hand-towel hanging next to the sink before heading to the kitchen table to join his mother."

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Copen on Tue Oct 11, 2005 5:34 pm

“Dad’s home!” came the excited cry followed by the scrambling of sneakers from the sitting room as Marshall tore himself away from his homework and streaked toward the door. Smiling, the boy’s mother closed the oven door and pulled off the mitts protecting her hands. Her husband, Isaac, always worked odd hours these past few months. It was becoming rarer and rarer for Mr. Walker to make it home in time to catch dinner. Patricia was pleased that he’d be able to join his son for a meal.

“Hey!” Marshall shouted as the door opened and his father’s hand reached out to muss with his hair.

“Hey there, Kiddo,” came Isaac’s deep, booming voice, a grin betrayed in its tone. Patricia immediately picked up on the circumstances; things went well at “The Office” today for him to be home so early in such a good mood.

Work had really been taking a toll on him. Working for a weapons firm, many of his projects were top secret. Even his family was kept mostly in the dark. All Patricia could gather was that an independent client had contracted Metal Storm- the firm Isaac worked for- to come up with something revolutionary as quickly as possible. The range of progress had varied drastically, it seemed, judging from the times and moods Isaac came home at and in. Coming home early with a smile on his face was a rare occasion for the balding engineer and had been cause for celebration for the better half of the last year.

“Patricia,” Isaac hailed her out of her thoughtful expression as she emerged from the kitchen, “put whatever’s in the oven on hold. I’m taking you out tonight.”

“Alright, Pizza!” Marshall exclaimed.

“You bet, bud,” the boy’s father replied, “You and Holly can have whatever you want when she comes over. I’m gonna take your mother out with me alone tonight.”

Marshall realized he didn’t mind being left out as he contemplated the meaning of his father’s words. Holly was his favorite babysitter. He’d developed a crush on the seventeen-year-old a few years ago; equally due to her blossoming breasts as well as her affinity for video games. Pizza and Holly made for a good night in young Walker’s mind. He didn’t mind missing the fancy restaurant his parents would be wining and dining at. The boy hated dressing up and sitting quietly in that stuffy atmosphere for so long while his parents talked about boring adult things and ate questionable “fine” cuisine.

The same words struck a deeper chord with the boy’s mother. Something had happened, something he didn’t want to discuss in front of Marshall. Judging from Isaac’s demeanor, it was good news, but she still couldn’t help but feel disconcerted.

Patricia hadn’t gotten a chance to discuss her feelings with her husband as they both got ready for dinner at Christophe’s. It was only after he had ordered the Pepperoni pizza and called to confirm Holly’s commitment for the night that she was able to get a word in without risk of upsetting the boy.

“So what’s the occasion?” Mrs. Walker casually asked as she compared earrings in the vanity mirror.

“Can’t I wait until dinner?” Isaac sensed the subtle impatient curiosity beneath his wife’s nonchalant air.

"I suppose so," Patricia replied as she set down a pair of dangling sapphires in favor of the diamonds she placed within her ears, "I'm just a little unsettled, especially where the nature of your work is concerned. Any of your surprises, no matter how well you word them, may not sound so good to a mother's ears. Marshall still thinks you're just an extremely successful insurance salesman."

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby SSJHunterKiller on Tue Oct 11, 2005 9:32 pm

James felt out of place at the fancy restaurant, just about everyone else was dressed in tuxedos and fancy dresses. He was dressed in a button down shirt and tan pants. James looked around the restaurant as people coming in game him slightly odd looks. He wasn't surprised, a single person at a fancy restaurant known as a place for couple to dine, that wasn't dressed "to code" as military people liked to put it. James let out a sigh as he saw the bathroom door open at the far end of the restaurant. Now he wasn't going to be getting the weird looks. His best friend and senior officer was walking across the open floor. Val was dressed in artic camouflage cargo pants, a white sleeveless t-shirt and a fading black trench coat. Val sat down across the table from James and glared at the door. They were late, or maybe his information was wrong.

"Val, you could have at least tried to dress up."

"Bah, you know I hate dressing up. Besides, we're not going to be here that long. Just long enough to make sure it's him and see what's up."

James let out a sigh and covered his face with his hands.


Val sat upright suddenly as a pair walked in the front door. He pulled a picture out of the inside pocket and looked back and forth between the picture and the man.

"It's him alright"

"So what are we going to do. We can't exactly break into the middle of his dinner. And no, you're not going to do that, because I know that's what you want to do. Just catch him when he goes to the bathroom or something."

Val put the picture back in his pocket. Val wanted to at least talk to him, to find out what was going on down here.

"So, this Mr. Walker. Think he'll be worth the trip?"

"Well, we'll find out. Won't we?"

Val stood up making sure to get this Mr. Walker's attention as he did. Val caught a slightly disturbed look on Mr. Walkers' face. Val walked by the pair as there were being seated.

"I'd like to talk to you once your dinner is over Mr. Walker. We'll be waiting outside."

With that, Val and James left the restaurant and waited outside.

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Copen on Sun Oct 16, 2005 2:31 am

Patricia clutched her husband’s arm as they walked to their table, attempting to catch his attention. Turning towards her, Isaac saw her gaze and turned to follow it. Seated twenty feet from their own table was a pair of men obviously out of place with the rest of the restaurant’s well-dressed occupants, clothed in military garb. As soon as their gazes met, a stone fell in the engineer’s stomach. He could guess why they were here, and he wasn’t pleased about it. It didn’t matter though, he had protection. No matter what they wanted, he had protection.

“Don’t worry about them,” Isaac reassured his wife, “Whatever they want doesn’t affect us.”

As they sat down, Patricia’s face revealed quite obviously that she was less than pleased with his reply. Her fear’s were escalated as the pair walked towards the table and leaned over to Isaac’s ear.

“I'd like to talk to you once your dinner is over Mr. Walker,” one of them whispered, “We'll be waiting outside.”

“So what is that about?” Patricia glowered across the table at her husband.

“Nothing, don’t worry” he replied, “That’s part of what I came here to tell you about.”

“This better be good.”

“It is, I assure you,” the spoke from behind the large embroidered menus brought to them as they pretended to gaze over the menus.

“Almost a year ago I was confronted by… Well, let’s just say a rather influential government official. He informed me that he had need of my and Metal Storm’s special abilities. He had need of a weapon, something completely revolutionary, the next step in combat technology.”

“What did you do…?”

“Nothing quite on the scale of a weapon of mass destruction, my dear, don’t worry.”

“’Nothing quite on the scale?’”

“It’s more of a tactical weapon, for specific goals.”

“And who exactly are you selling this technology to?”

“Listen, if I didn’t make it, someone else would, and he has our best interests in mind.”

“Anyone with war on their mind doesn’t have my best interests in mind.”

“No, this should make for a less bloody war. A swifter, more decisive victory.”

’Should?’ So they planned on using these things even before war officially broke out.”

“Yes- I mean, no, of course not. They just wanted to be prepared.”

“Isaac, you’ve always been too trusting.”

“But this project, this contract, has us set for life. We’ve developed over fifty revolutionary new kinds of technology for this weapon alone. Hundreds of patents are in processing right now. Don’t you see dear, we’ll be set for life.”

“At what expense? So our child can grow up in a war-stricken world? How long do you think it is before the opposing side carries the exact same technology to do the same damage to us?”

“In the last few months it’s become even more apparent that this will actually prevent more bloodshed than cause it. Like a surgical knife this weapon can cripple the opposition and prevent a prolonged, messy war.”

“Isaac… I sure hope you’re right.”

“It’s still top-secret, but I wanted to tell you about it at least a bit.”

“So what is it?”

Isaac turned his head, scoping the room out for anyone who may be monitoring their conversation. Remembering the military personnel that had approached him earlier, he decided not to speak it aloud, instead pulling a receipt out of his pocket and pen, scribbling his answer down on the back of the scrap of paper and sliding it over to his wife.

Taking the hint, Patricia discretely glanced at the writing. She was surprised to see it written in the secret language they had shared in college. Something was obviously dangerous about this information.

“I nim-cazob gymbin. Lowyrypaemilu voitemlu imb idarapaoc docpevob am i tiskigo pho cazo ef i ralgo tolcem.”

It took her a short while to decipher the message, but when she did her eyes grew wide. She knew her husband was a genius, but she never imagined he would be constructing something like this. It was like a device out of her son’s anime videos. The world had certainly never seen anything like it, and after they did it would definitely have a large role in the outcome of this war with the colonies.


“I know.”

“What have you done…?”

“But sweetheart-“

“Isaac you have a son and you are going to raise him in a world built by this… this… these THINGS?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Why do you think Earth outlawed mobile suits after the last war?”

“But dear, desperate times-“

“I don’t want to hear another word of it.” With that she stormed out of the restaurant, leaving the rest of the diners stunned at the scene. Isaac tried to follow her outside, but she hailed a cab and got in before he could reach her.

Turning around, defeated, he saw the figures of the two who had spoken to him inside.

“Alright, what do you two want?”

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby SSJHunterKiller on Sun Oct 16, 2005 11:53 am

"I think you have a general idea of why we're here. We'd like to talk with you about in progress project. You have nothing to fear from us, so there's no need to be nervous. So, if you would be so kind as to tell us a bit more about what you're planning, we'd greatly appriciate it. Well, I'll start off by telling you what I know. Wait, how rude of me, please forgive my lack in manners. My name is Val Trall, I am the leader of a small orgizination known as the Caligo Umbra. This is my head mechanic and second in command, James Raynor. We recently undertook the task of putting a serious dent in the plans of Jyotika, a warlord that has taken over Asia by force and I'm sure plans to take more than just that. So, the problem is, we've undercovered a small hint of what you've been building. No detials or anything, or I'm sure we would have been here a lot sooner."

Val paused as a couple waltzed out of the restaurant, and waited until they were out of ear shot, then motioned to James.

"See, word has it that you're building a new type of mobile suit. And granted, that most of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation has disregarded the laws about making mobile suits, they haven't made any new modles, anything more deadly than was already out there. Then you and whomever you're working for come along and start building new typed of mobile suits. This throws a wrench in our plans because, well you see, we're trying to find a balance, some way that the Colonies and Earth can exsist without the threat of war loming over them, and you're not helping this at all. So, we're going to ask you nicely. Stop production of whatever you're building, destroy the plans and find a new line of work."

"Now, we'd like you're full coporation on this matter. We'd prefer not to get things violent or ugly, but we can play that way if you wish. So I'll give you three days to think it over. After that we'll be in touch. I trust you'll make the right decsion. Have a good evening."

With that both Val and James smiled and began to walk off. After a few steps Val stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and one more thing. You've got a lovely family and a nice house. And the baby sitter you have for you son is simpily stunning."

Val took a few steps back towards Mr. Walker and handed him a photo of his son playing a video game in the living room with the baby sitter.

"This was taken less than an hour ago. Like I said, I'd prefer not to play things the hard way, but I can if you wish. Oh, and don't try flee. That would only make things a bit more rough then they already are. Have a good evening."

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