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The Beginning of the End

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

Original GWing Storyline, now AC 202.

The Beginning of the End

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Copen on Thu Oct 20, 2005 1:10 pm

Isaac’s car relentlessly weaved through traffic in the city, racing towards home.

“Taking pictures of my family…” he muttered under his breath as he accelerated past 160 kilometers per hour, “Think they can threaten me. Visionless morons should know better than to think they can stop the inevitable… Someone would’ve done it if I hadn’t. This way I can see they were created for a good purpose. And the gall! Simply calling them, “a new type of mobile suit” like I’m building some super Leo or something.”

Despite the apparent wandering of his mind, over the years Doctor Walker had become far more efficient with multi-tasking. The way his deadlines ran, he had to. His mind often worked over dozens of calculations while he read a novel and held a conversation. It was a simple task to mull things over and grumble to himself while paying attention to the road at high speeds.

He didn’t care that they had some kind of intelligence on his project. Most of what they knew was probably guesswork anyway; he’d realized that in the middle of their conversation, deciphering the vague hints to realize they were desperate enough to confront him without any true grasp of his concept. They were afraid of some Libra-like doomsday cannon, like everyone else without an imagination. No one could’ve guessed what he was working on. His team consisted of trusted colleagues who were just as committed to and enthusiastic about this idea as he was. With the protection they were assured by Metal Storm’s newest contractor, they all felt safe-guarded against any kind of threat or intimidation.

“Too close…” Isaac said to himself, remembering the photograph he’d seen earlier that night of his son, playing in the living room. Where was his protection now? He’d been assured by his contractor that his family would be looked-after and protected from any threat that may arise as a repercussion of his work. How could they have gotten that close?

Patricia may have been right, perhaps he had chosen poorly in this case. He was a weapons engineer though; it was his job to develop the peacemaking tools of the future. Of course weapons had been used in the past to kill, that’s what they’re made to do, but Isaac had always clung tightly to the ideal that his weapons, while being used to kill, would actually cause less destruction and chaos by defeating the opposition before more blood could be shed. His eyes were finally open to the prospect that his technology could be used for evil, malicious purposes. But surely the new owner of his weapons was responsible enough to use them for the benefit of mankind… Unless they were stolen.

Isaac suddenly felt a sharp pang through his skull. He’d given himself a headache. As soon as he got home he just wanted to collapse on the couch or the bed, depending on Patricia’s mood, and pass out. Today had been such a roller coaster and his mind was finally starting to feel the effects. He was so happy when he came home from work at first, production had finally been completed and the prototype units were ready for field testing. Then came the episode at dinner. He had been a fool to think that Patricia would be as happy and excited as he was. Isaac wasn’t so ignorant that he didn’t think there was some chance of his wife being upset with him, but he was hoping if he presented it well enough, took her out to dinner, got her in a good mood first, that she would appreciate it for the same reasons he did. The fight at the restaurant had really surprised him, no matter how he tried to prepare himself for her response.

And then these asses, telling him to quit his job and destroy what he had been working himself to the bone on for the better-half of the last year, threatening his family. Little did they know it was too late, the weapons were fully-operational and the plant was ready for mass production depending on the results of these units in combat.

Halfway home, in the midst of reflection, Isaac’s car phone rang. Expecting it to be Patricia, he glanced at the steering wheel to check the caller ID. Surprised, he recognized the number for Metal Storm. Quickly, he punched the answer key.
“Doctor Walker here.

“Sir!” replied an urgent voice on the other end. Isaac didn’t recognize it, but he didn’t bother getting to know many of the security personnel, “We tried calling your house already and no one answered. Have you seen the news yet?”

“No, what’s wrong?” Isaac asked, sensing the urgency in the security officer’s voice. Having work call him at this time, especially after everything was finished, was not a good sign.

“An attack sir,” immediately Isaac slammed on the brakes, pulling the car off the road onto the shoulder, “near the plant, Armed soldiers have destroyed a small town and they’re headed this way. One of them has the Tallgeese II!”


“Some of the other security officers said I should call you and tell you.”

“They were right to, thank you,” Dr. Walker responded, shifting his brain into emergency mode, he shoved aside the rest of today’s troubles and blocked out his headache, “I need an airplane, maybe some helicopters, and an armed escort. I’m going to be there as soon as I can. Call the rest of my staff and tell them to get somewhere they can hide in safety.”

“Yessir!” the guard answered, driven with a sense of duty by his orders and the tone of Isaac Walker’s voice. Something very, very serious was going on and he’d been put in charge of organizing the response.

Without even bothering to say good-bye, Isaac punched off the phone and whipped the car around, cutting across three other lanes of traffic to turn around and fly toward the plant, where his laboratory held the fruits of his labor.

Ignoring restraint, the doctor’s car swiftly accelerated to speeds much in excess of 220 kilometers per hour, flying around the car’s in front of him. Several times, Isaac passed his fellow motorists on the shoulder, unwilling to wait for a gap to open up within the lanes for him to safely maneuver around them with.

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Copen on Thu Oct 20, 2005 2:40 pm


“What Isaac?” the doctor’s annoyed wife responded on the other end of the line.

“Grab Marshall and get out of the house.”

“Isaac-“ she began, but Isaac new better than to let her start.

“Dammit Patricia! Don’t fucking argue right now! You were right! Now get out of the house!”

“God dammit Isaac! Where do you want us to go!?”

“I don’t know…”

“Fine, fine,” Mrs. Walker began to cool down as she got over the situation and began running through scenarios in her head, “I’ll deal with it. I’ll get somewhere safe. What are you doing?”

“I have to go take care of something at the plant.”

“Oh Jesus, Isaac! It’s because of that thing we’re in this mess! Can’t you let it go?”

“Patricia, this is more important than all that. If these fall into the wrong hands…”

“Fine, whatever Isaac.”

Infuriated, Patricia slammed down the telephone and ran upstairs. Marshall had fallen asleep in the middle of a movie he’d been watching with Holly and his mother had taken him up to bed after she got home. That had only been a few minutes ago and she hadn’t even bother to undress yet. Quickly she ran into her room and disrobed, exchanging her evening gown for a simple t-shirt and a pair of pants. Tossing her high-heels into the closet, she replaced them with a pair of comfortable shoes and socks.

Deciding to risk taking the time, Patricia grabbed a suitcase from the closet and tore open several dresser drawers. Even in her hurry, she was focused enough to grab only things she thought she could use, When she thought she’d had enough clothes, she ran to Marshall’s room.

“Marshall! Wake up honey!” She shouted from the hall, trying not to sound too panicked, “We’re going to Gran’s and I need you to wake up and go to the car outside.”

Rubbing his eyes, Marshall sat up in bed, clad in blue and green superhero pajamas.

“What do you mean momma?” he muttered in a sleepy stupor, pausing to release a long yawn and a stretch, “it’s night time. Gran’s asleep.”

“That’s okay baby, we need to pack up and go right now anyway. I’ll grab your things, you go out and wait in the car.”

“Can I bring a pillow and blanket?”

“Sure, sweetheart, whatever you want.”

Trudging down the stairs, one eye still half-shut, Marshall dragged his blanket and pillow behind him to the garage. Only when he saw his father’s car missing did he begin to realize something was wrong. While he contemplated what this meant, he crawled into the coupe his mother drove, reclining in the back seat with his head on the pillow and the blanket tucked around him.

After a few moments, Marshall’s mother slammed the door to the garage shut and yanked open the driver’s side door, throwing the suitcase she’d packed full of things into the passenger seat.

As she threw herself behind the wheel and started the car, Marshall asked from the back seat, “Mom, where’s Dad?”

“Dad’s meeting us at Gran’s,” Patricia replied as she turned her head around, gazing out the back window while the garage door opened up. Quickly she backed out of the garage and tore down the street.

“Whoa! Mom!” Marshall sat up suddenly in the back as he felt the car race and heard the engine roar. Watching the scenery fly by, the twelve-year old quickly buckled himself in, “What’re we in such a hurry for?”

“Just sit back and stay quiet, honey,” Patricia replied as she concentrated on the road.

Marshall did as he was told, the gears in his head turning over and over, trying to figure out what could be wrong. Something he did know though, they weren’t going to Gran’s anymore.

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Copen on Mon Nov 07, 2005 3:39 pm

The Walkers’ red coupe blazed across dirt roads, precariously maintained by Patricia as she focused as intensely as possible while driving as fast as she could. On pavement the vehicle would be much easier to control, but it would also be much easier to be caught on a main road. She was even hesitant to turn on her headlights, but the 36-year old housewife knew she wouldn’t get anywhere safely without them. Men were after them. Soldiers with guns, ordered to most-likely capture them for use as leverage against her fool of a husband.

Even as she concentrated on the road, Mrs. Walker couldn’t help but curse Isaac in her head. How could he have been so naïve? To think that building such a revolutionary weapon exclusively for one side of the battle wouldn’t endanger him or his family, the idea was ludicrous. The man had a loving wife and son, but his head had been in the clouds again, conjuring thoughts of Nobel prizes and large paychecks while ignoring the practical dangers posed to him and his loved ones. Patricia didn’t even know exactly what was going on. All Isaac had said was to get out of the house, but it wasn’t hard to figure out why. They were in danger, and so was he, all because of his brilliant ideas. Patricia agreed with the pacifists, the world was better without weapons, without mobile suits, without war.

“Mom…” a soft voice spoke up slowly from the back seat. Twelve-year old Marshall Walker’s eyes had expanded to the size of dinner plates as he watched the local terrain flash past them. He had buckled himself tightly into the middle of the backseat and sat fixed to the spot, fascinated with the roar of the engine and the sound of the road under their tires. He couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying himself, but at the same time, he knew something must be wrong. His mother had obviously been lying about the trip to Gran’s house.

“Shh! Not now honey, Mommy’s trying to drive.”

Weary of his mother’s tone, Marshall obediently sealed his lips and continued to gaze out of his window. Moments ago he had been sleeping peacefully in his bed, but he was wide awake now, curiosity and excitement pumping through his veins. This was just like on those police shows his father watched in the evenings, except this time there was only one car. The boy couldn’t see a vehicle behind, chasing after them, and there was no target in front that they were pursuing.

And what was even more disturbing was the absence of his father. Where were they going without him? Would he be meeting them wherever it was? Did he even know they had left? Was he the reason they were driving so fast? Was he hurt? Had something happened to Dad?

Marshall opened his mouth to begin asking again, but when he saw the intensity on his mother’s face in the rear-view mirror, he decided his questions could wait.

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