Note: I do not own the Gundam Franchise and I do not in any way make money from the project. It's just a fanfic, no more, no less.
Project Name: Mobile Suit Gundam 00: Rise of Rebellion
Time: AD 2304
Location: AEU, somewhere in south Italy.
The valley was quiet, peaceful, and tranquil. The golden rays of morning light illuminated the flora of the countryside. The trees rock gently to the gentle breeze. The grass of the fields dance with the swirling pockets of air. At the bottom of the valley, a small village is waking up, ready to start the day.
In a small stone house, near the edge of the Italian village, a boy wakes up. His siblings have already left to help their father with the cattle they owned and his mother was about to leave the house.
“Turi, get up now. Your father and siblings are already tending the cattle.” The mother told the still-groggy boy. The mother left the house, with the door still open. The boy got up from his straw bed, wiping his eyes of sleep. Scratching his head, ruffling his black hair, he went to the dining table. He found some crusty bread and black-skinned cheese left for him and ate.
I hate weekends...
He got dressed, and left the house.
Turi would have to walk for a few minutes to get to their field. He got out and looked at the countryside. It was a perfect day.
He strolled through the dirt road, passing by a long stretch of wooden fences and signposts, carrying with him four aluminium buckets, all slightly worn and a little rusty on the outside. He must collect some milk from their cows, a task he is less than happy to oblige with. The cows would be less than happy to be milked by inexperienced hands and sometimes show their distaste with a kick. Turi still had a bruise to his left torso. Turi passed by some old friends, who were trying to get him to play with them. Turi, seeking not his father’s anger so early in the day, didn’t stop to decide and continued on.
Turi is only 12 yet the Italian sun and pasture made him look a few years older. He is the next to the oldest among his siblings, an older brother and two younger sisters. For a boy his age, he already has plans for his future. Life in the pastures of this side of Italy didn’t quite suit his growing interest for mobile suits. After studying, he wants to enlist for the AEU’s Air Force to become an Enact pilot. Growing up, he has seen his share of mobile suits pass by their village during the heyday of Celestial Being’s interventions in Europe. His only desire is to get out of the cattle-herding and milking business and live the danger-ridden life of a mobile suit pilot.
As he neared their herd of livestock, he looked-up to the sky and noticed what seem to be jet streams. He stopped and took a better look. They were Hellions, five of them. He noticed that the group was headed in his direction, to the village. He recognized the color-scheme of the mobile suits. Red all over; probably a PMC from Moralia. Moralia? He was perplexed. It was either they were just passing-by or there was some real trouble for the village. Suddenly, the five Hellions descended. The trees and the grass were blown with the forceful winds of their passing. Turi dropped his buckets to cover his eyes. He then saw the mobile suits stop. Yellow bolts of energy rained down. The stone houses were being shot and the people leaving them were being gunned-down by automatons dropped by one of the mobile suits. Near the outskirts of town, two cars were trying to escape, shooting behind them as they drove. Their rockets were no match for the Hellions’ rifles. They were shot dead as well.
Turi ran as fast as he can to their family’s field. He was screaming “Mother. Father. We’re being attacked.” He looked ahead and saw his family running to him. Just before he could make it, a missile struck them where they stood. The explosion threw Turi to the ground lying down. He tried to get up, but his footing lost strength as he realized that his family was now blown to pieces by a mysterious shot. The wind blew hard near him, and before him was one of the mobile suits. The machine aimed at Turi, its eyes now seemed like coals from the depths of hell. The boy instinctively shielded his face, still wrought with shock and fear. The Red Hellion was stopped by a sudden blast of light. It was a light Turi had never seen before. Light Violet, almost Lavender. He looked at the burning village and saw the mobile suits go down one by one to these mysterious shots. He knew there was a mobile suit, but he couldn’t see it through the smoke. One last unit tried to make a run for it, but the mysterious mobile suit drew a blade from its arm. In that split-second, Turi realized it was a Flag, but unlike any Flag he’s ever seen.
It released this light from its back engine. It was a violet Flag with a bright blue visor. The mysterious unit was about to take flight when it noticed a boy staring amazingly, the only survivor of a PMC mop-up mission. It slowly hovered to the field, filling it with the violet light. The sky was filled with the mysterious light. The smoke of the burning Hellion wafted away from the mysterious mobile suit. It kneeled in front of Turi. The boy was amazed. He was in a mixture of loss and deliverance, of sorrow and bliss, of shock and awe. The Flag’s cockpit opened and a man wearing an odd-looking gray space suit stepped-out. He removed his helmet, revealing his blonde hair, emerald eyes, and olive skin. He outstretched his right arm, asking Turi to step inside. The boy walked to the Flag and got in.
"Don Corleone--I am going to leave you now--- because I know-- that you are busy"