The hangar was quiet, save for the low hum of cooling generators and the occasional hiss of steam escaping from the newly repaired Zaku II units. Jason walked slowly through the rows of machines, the faint smell of oil and scorched metal clinging to his uniform. He had been working since dawn, but even now, he couldn't stop thinking about the new "weapon" Zeon had just unveiled.
In the far corner, apart from the rest of the base's activity, sat the man — or the cyborg — they called Grievous. His frame was massive, his silhouette sharp and predatory under the dim overhead lights. His armor gleamed faintly as he sat motionless, like a statue, head bowed slightly as if deep in thought.
Jason hesitated at first. It wasn't every day you approached someone who had been literally built to hunt the most dangerous humans alive. But something about the way Grievous sat, isolated from everyone else, made Jason's steps heavier with each move forward.
Then he heard it — a low growl, a muttered voice coming from the cyborg himself.
"Unnatural powers must be purged before they destroy the galaxy."
Jason froze. The words hit him like a lightning strike. His dreams came rushing back — dreams of a war fought with light and sound, of a monster with four arms cutting down warriors with glowing blades.
Grievous' head turned slightly at the sound of Jason's boots. His glowing yellow eyes cut through the darkness like twin beams.
Jason swallowed hard and forced himself to speak. "You've… fought something like that before, haven't you?"
The cyborg shifted, one clawed hand resting on his knee. His voice was deep, mechanical, but filled with an odd humor.
"I have fought them. I have killed them. Many of them. Are you here to give me more prey?"
Jason forced a nervous laugh, trying not to back away. "No. There aren't any Jedi here. But what you just said — that's exactly what I've heard in my dreams. I think… I think I know what you were."
Grievous leaned forward, the metal of his joints creaking softly. "What I was?"
Jason nodded slowly. "A general. A warrior. Someone who fought against an order of… superhuman knights. You didn't just hate them — you were built to destroy them."
For a long moment, the hangar was silent except for the faint hum of power conduits. Then Grievous laughed — a low, rasping sound that sent chills down Jason's spine.
"You are not wrong. They called me General once. They feared me once. But here, I am only an experiment."
Jason felt a flash of anger. "You're more than that. I can see it. You're not just some mindless weapon."
Grievous tilted his head, intrigued. "And what are you, little mechanic? You think yourself a philosopher?"
Jason stepped closer, ignoring the way his pulse pounded in his ears. "No. But I know what it's like to be reshaped by war. To have people look at you and see nothing but a tool. You didn't ask for this. Neither did I."
Grievous' eyes narrowed. For a moment, Jason thought he might lash out. Instead, he let out another harsh laugh.
"Hnh. So you do understand. Perhaps you are not as small as you look."
Jason managed a faint smile. "Then you deserve the truth. You deserve to know what a 'Newtype' is — and why Zeon wants you to hunt them."
He sat on the crate across from Grievous and began explaining. He told him about Amuro Ray, about Char Aznable, about the strange psychic resonance that Newtypes were supposed to have. He explained how Zeon saw them as the next step in human evolution — and how that terrified the Zabi family enough to build someone like Grievous.
Grievous listened silently, his glowing eyes fixed on Jason. When Jason finally finished, the cyborg leaned back and let out a metallic chuckle.
"So. These 'Newtypes' are no Jedi. No Council. No temples to burn."
Jason blinked. "You're… joking?"
Grievous' grin widened. "If I am to be a weapon again, at least my targets are not children raised on superstition. Tell me, mechanic — do these Newtypes bleed?"
Jason gave a wry smile despite himself. "They do."
"Then perhaps I will enjoy this war after all," Grievous said, his voice somewhere between amusement and bitterness.
Jason exhaled slowly. "You don't have to enjoy it. Just… don't let them turn you into something you hate again."
Grievous was silent for a long time, then finally nodded. "You speak plainly. I value that. Most here tell me only what they think I should hear."
Jason nodded. "Then I'll keep speaking plainly. As long as you keep listening."
For the first time, Grievous' tone softened. "Do that, and I may consider you more than another coward hiding behind orders."
Jason allowed himself a small grin. "Deal."
Grievous leaned forward. "Good. Now tell me more about how these Newtypes fight. If I am to face them, I want to know their weaknesses."
Jason smirked. "Careful. You might start sounding like one of the engineers."
Grievous chuckled again, the sound echoing through the empty hangar.
The next morning, Tanya's forces finally reached Odessa. Their march had taken nearly a month, with wounded soldiers and damaged mobile suits slowing their progress. Dust-covered Zakus limped into the city's outer perimeter, accompanied by exhausted pilots and grim-faced engineers.
Tanya stood at the front, her uniform torn in several places but her posture straight as ever. Mila and Zhou Wei followed closely behind, still bandaged from their encounter with Athrun Zala.
At the gates, they were met by the Black Tri-Stars, who greeted them with broad grins and loud laughter, impressed they had made it back at all. Shin Matsunaga stood quietly behind them, his white Zaku gleaming in the sunlight like a silent sentinel.
"We thought you'd all been wiped out," Gaia said with a laugh. "Glad to see you proved us wrong."
Tanya only nodded, her face unreadable. "We came back because Odessa still stands. Don't waste it."
M'quve arrived shortly after, his presence as polished and smooth as ever. "Your timing is fortunate," he said. "The Federation grows bolder by the day. We will need every machine we can field."
Behind Tanya, Norris stepped forward. "Then let us begin repairs. The sooner our units are battle-ready, the better our odds."
Aina, quiet until now, nodded and immediately set about directing the engineers. Tanya watched her for a moment, then turned back to the distant horizon.
"They will come," she said quietly.
"Who?" Ramba Ral asked.
"The Federation," Tanya replied. "They've been too quiet. They're either planning an ambush or waiting for reinforcements. Either way, we must be ready."
Ral placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Then stay calm. Panic will only get more of our men killed."
Tanya exhaled slowly and nodded. "Calm. But not blind."
As the sun set over Odessa, the base buzzed with the sound of repairs and preparations. For Tanya, the battle wasn't over. For Jason, a strange alliance with a former Jedi-killer had just begun. And somewhere in the shadows of Zeon's laboratories, Grievous sharpened his resolve — ready to face whatever this world would throw at him.