Editing KSGU:Volume 9 Chapter 2 (section)

===Part 5===
The “Unicorn Gundam” engulfed in a rainbow light closed in from the front. ''I’ve never seen a glowing phenomenon like that before. What’s going on? Is that its true identity—did he activate the true identity of the psycoframe?''

He could not think. ''I’ll be gnawed away, it’s a monster.'' His primal instincts were howling, “Ps-Psyco Jammers!!” and he hollered with all his might.

There were still 3 Psyco Jammer units left, and they surrounded the “Unicorn Gundam”, releasing their interference waves at it. The Anti-Psycommu System would release an artificial psycowave that would overload the receivers of the psycommu devices, but they were unable to work as they were designed to. The monitor indicated that the fake psycowaves were in disarray, forming a different waves. The Psyco Jammers were devoured by an unknown wave, negated in the process—

“What’s this power…!? A wave that can’t be digitalized…that can override the psycowaves from the Psyco Jammer!?”

(What cheap tricks are you trying! Thinking of sealing the Psycommu?)

The beam saber flashed, and the Psyco Jammer was sliced in half, becoming a ball of light. The Psyco Jammers continued to be sliced once after another, letting out explosions of light as the “Unicorn Gundam” closed in with its eyes glowing. The two shields danced about freely, surrounding the glowing machine, blocking the shots from the INCOMs one after another. Angelo leaned back onto the linear seat. He had fully checked through it before, and knew that shield was just a metal block with an I-field generator on it, that there were no thrusters on it.

“So why can an ordinary shield move around like that!?”

He tried moving the machine backwards, including to escape from the rainbow light surrounding him. At that instant, the “Unicorn Gundam” kept its beam saber on its left manipulator, and opened its palm wide at him. There was an unknown pulse created from it, causing Angelo’s heart to resonate, and the “Rozen Zulu”, now trapped, was unable to move at all. He saw the Psycommu monitor showing a malfunctioning sign on it, and then sensed the INCOMs aimed right at him, releasing killing intent from two directions.

[[Image:KSGU9 147.jpg|thumb]]

“Eek…!”

He controlled the control sticks, flaring the thrusters. The INCOM cannons shots grazed by the “Rozen Zulu” as it flew away, and the scattered particles from another direction again grazed by its feet. The two INCOM let out a crossfire, intertwining the “Rozen Zulu” as it ostensibly tripped over itself. ''The Psycommu got hijacked?'' Angelo was driven by this impulse corroding his mind, and did not have the time to think it was possible as he continued to evade. The grazing beams scorched the “Rozen Zulu” petal-like armor, and the purple petals were wilting pitying by the weapons used against him.

—Frontal doesn’t have any use for you. He’s just watching.

The wave became that of a ‘voice’, and rang in Angelo’s mind, blank with fear. He widened his eyes, and looked around.

—You never intended to see the true identity of Frontal. You’re scared that the illusion shown on that mask will be destroyed.

''That’s why I’m angry that he removed the mask in front of that guy''—the voice rang in his heart, “WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!?” He hollered, and turned the machine around. Using the time where he escaped from the INCOM’s attack range, he reeled the cables back in. The claws and shields were reeled back in and attached to its arms, and the “Rozen Zulu” flared its thrusters to maximum output as it leapt away.

“What do you understand anyway!?”

As long as he reeled the INCOMs back in, there was no need to fear the waves. Angelo continued to fire the mega particle cannons on the shield as he let his machine charge at the “Unicorn Gundam”.

“The Captain saved me!”

He crashed the mobile suit into a “Unicorn Gundam”, which had floated in front of it, opened the claws on the left arm, and grabbed it. The 3 claws crushed the I-field generator, and the shattered shield was covered by a triggered explosion.

“He said he’ll rely on me…!”

''He also said that it’ll be a lonely sight not to see that rose everyday.'' Angelo hushed the rising anxiety within him as he swung the claws at the “Unicorn Gundam”.

—That’s a lie. Frontal just standing on a high ground, and he won’t help you, not in the past, and never in the future.

The white machine dodged with an instantaneous-like motion, and continued to give off this unnerving ‘voice’ that continued to wreck him. It was a sharp blade that turned his trust and love for Frontal into a curse, destroying his body. ''Right, there’s no compromise for excessive love. As long as our thoughts differ a little, I’ll feel betrayed.'' “Anything will do!” Angelo howled as he aimed the mega particle cannons on the shield at the front.

“The Captain has a destiny to be the King of the abandoned, the one who can purify this corroded world. For him, no matter what happens to my body…!”

—How pitiful you are.

The beam saber was swung vertically downwards, severing the shield attached to the right arm. The “Unicorn Gundam” then moved in a refined Japanese Iaido motion as it closed in, its eyes glowing, causing Angelo to blankly stare at its face while forgetting to check on his unit’s damages. It was no longer a machine, but a person engulfed with fighting intent. The ‘presence’ became the light released by the Psycoframe, and the giant human was breathing in space—

“What…human is that? A giant?”

—Show the source of that twisted heart of yours.

The ‘voice’ of the giant, not Banagher, was ringing in his mind as its giant hand covered his sights. ''I’ll be crushed, I’ll be gnawed, that unremovable stain will corrupt my pure world.''

“CAPTAIN!?”

Angelo shouted, but the white hot psycoframe light swallowed his body whole—


It was a white, speckless light. Angelo felt a soft fabric-like feeling from within, letting out a rustling sound.

''“You really love the blanket, don’t you, Angelo?”''

It was the silhouette of a really large woman, smiling as her back faced the light. His face was touched by her slender and soft fingers, and Banagher knew consciously: ''This is Angelo’s mother.

''“Hey, mama can’t do the laundry like this, you know?”''

The burly arms carried Angelo as the latter hid within the blanket. From beyond the shoulders of Angelo’s father, Banagher saw a pure white sea of bedsheets. It was a safety zone of warmth and cleanliness, a sanctity separated from the world, where terrifying, filthy things would never enter—


—Stop, it.


The splattered blood stained the sea of bedsheets. Angelo, who was just 3 years old, witnessed the reddish-black blemishes on that whiteness.

The butt of the rifle was slammed into papa’s nose, and with one heavy hit after another, his face was completely contorted, his body falling limp. Those burly arms were no longer of any use, and the blood flowed while the pulse throbbed, forming a new stain on the bedsheet.

''“You murderer!”''

Mama shouted, but the soldiers in Federation uniforms sneered as they held her down. Angelo had witnessed this scene from the gap in the cupboard. Drenched in blood was the slab of flesh that used to be papa, and the face of mama, contorted with fear.

''“What human language is this Zeon swine saying!? Anti and Lippi were killed because you threw a colony on them!”''

The soldiers pushed mama onto the bed. Many military boots stained with blood and dirt trampled upon the white bedsheets as they pressed on mama. He could no longer see mama’s face, only her white legs protruding out from amidst the men as they took off their pants, flailing about like the hands of a clock. ''She’s eaten, she’s being chewed on'', Angelo thought. He could not let out a voice, not because papa told him to, but that he really could not. He too was being broken down along with his mother, who was eaten, gnawed, devoured, crushed—


—Don’, look.

The pure bedsheet was devoid of stains, but icy cold. Mama sat on the bed, her eyes looking cold as she stared outside the window. Angelo gave her a rose brooch on her birthday, giving her a trace of color in her transparent shadow.

Mama never saw that purple. Her body was still present, but her heart was shattered. Even after helping her put on that brooch, she never noticed Angelo.

''“It has been 7 years? She’s a survivor of Globe, but at that state…”''

''“To think the Master was willing to take her in. I heard that her deceased husband was a colleague of the Master, but she’s no longer able to serve her duty as a wife in that state, right?”

''“Actually, it’s rumored that the Master kept his living family to gain the privileges for that job. Also, he just divorced his previous wife. You see, the Master…”''

The maids’ incessant chatter could be heard from a corner of the wide room. Angelo listened in as he sat at his mother’s beside. His body, 10 years old, had pieced together what was once crushed, bit by bit, but it was still incomplete, for the important piece called mama was still fragmented.

Another silhouette suddenly appeared from behind, and the damp hand was placed onto Angelo’s slender shoulders, causing the latter’s body to jerk in shock.

''“Mama’s heart is still far away today. Come on, Angelo, it’s time to pray. Let’s pray with papa.”''

''No, you’re not papa.'' However, the call of denial was unable to become a voice, and his frozen body was unable to move due to fear. Angelo was ushered by the wet hand into the bedroom of the house’s Master.

Over there, he too was chewed to bits that night. The unnerving tongue licked on his chest, back, butt crack, breaking his body and mind into fragments, and the heavy flesh caused his body to creak. He had been prayer every night since he was 9…a necessary ritual to let his mother live on. Of course, he resisted at first, and wanted to take his mother and run away. However, his mother would not leave that bed, and she could only live on that white bedsheet.

He had to endure the blemishes for his mother’s bedsheet to remain white. He had to let this unnerving slab of flesh have a reason to keep them. Even when he was being gnawed at every day, even when his body was inserted with filthy liquid, even when he became a stain blemishing the bedsheet.

''“That’s right. Good boy. Our prayer will reach your mother one day.”''

The heavy breathing of the flesh block was upon Angelo’s ears, and he saw his tears stained on the bedsheet. The corroded tears were being squeezed out of his body, together with blood and feces, becoming the stains on the bedsheet—


—Don’t, come in.

It had been a long time since he had a bath, and the previous customer’s stench remained on the stained bedsheet. Angelo’s face was pressed on the rough fabric as he felt the saliva and sweat drip from the ‘customer’.

''“It’s about time.”''

''“A little longer…I heard there’s quite a good one, so I deliberately came all the way from “Zum City”, you know?”''

''“Another 20 then.”''

''“Heheh…I’ll pay.”''

“The ‘customer’ breathing got hasty. This was a middle-aged man who probably had a wife and children waiting for him once he returned home, and once he was done, he would hurriedly put on his clothes and leave this brothel, like he was terrified of being infected. ''How weird,'' a 16-year-old Angelo thought with his lips twisted. He used to be the one corrupted, and now he was the one corrupting others. He was being polluted while sullying others, and seemed to be maintaining his own personality as he remained stained.

His prayers never reached, and his mother jumped down from the balcony and died when the servants were not paying attention. He did not cry, for his tears were to flow when he was covered with filth, and not when he lost something. He too knew that praying never worked right from the beginning.

He did not attend the funeral, and left that mansion, wandering through the colonies of the Republic. After 3 years, he reached this street, a street filled with filthy people like him, a place with stench reeking all over the roads and neon lights. As long as his body remained, he would not have to go hungry. Even when he was gnawed into a battered, tattered body, there was no lack of visitors who would pay money for him.

There was no pain at that place; if he did not believe, he would not be betrayed; if he did not want it, he would not lose it. It was a lot more comfortable than forcing ‘trust’ and ‘future’ onto himself. When the filth had gathered to a point where it would leak out from him, he could vent all his frustrations through alcohol and drugs. On the first day he arrived, the hoodlum assigned to raise the protection fee and take care of him seemed to have joked, “The angel has fallen into the sty.” ''Right, there’s no need to worry about being fallen. If I continue to fall, I’ll merely be dumped on the roadside like a bug. At that time, a real angel will definitely come and bring me '''up'''.''

''However…this isn’t everything,'' Angelo thought. After being thrusted in by the desires of the ‘customers’, and after seeing his acquaintances being tossed onto the roadside coldly, he felt a searing heat permeate through his mind. Even if he burned the whole world down, it was not enough; the energy within him, which could vaporize his filth at any given moment, was looking for another avenue to escape. ''Before I end up leaving the world, I have to vomit everything out until it is clean. I was too young when the tragedy at Globe happened. Because of mama, my burden, I never thought of venting on that disgusting slab of meat. No, even if the burden had vanished, I never chose to do it. Maybe it’s because I instinctively know that it’s not enough for me to vent completely. It’s not worth killing someone and get my freedom taken away.''

''Perhaps all I need is a trigger. And to use this energy, I need someone else to squeeze the trigger. But that’s probably not going to be a person,'' Angelo wondered. ''Humans are too weak, humans will betray each other, they’ll take away, destroy, corrupt others—and cause all these happenings on the world. I have to raze them all, but I need something that’s beyond human. God? Devil? None of it matters. All I need is an existence that an angel can follow, no matter what it is.'' His desire for an encounter with that existence brought a strong sense of rhapsody and blissfulness, one more potent than drugs. It was an overwhelming ecstasy for this body, which was already devoid of sexual delight and enthusiasm.

''It’s not that far away.''  He had a feeling that the object was just inches away from him. Like him, the object had an impulse to raze everything in the world to the ground. The flame of revolution, which would burn all filth away and changing a new bedsheet, was slowly approaching. 

He would not mind the filth Angelo had, for he had surpassed humanity. As long as he offered his body to that man, who would never taint nor be tainted, he could return to that bed again. That cleanliness and warm white bedsheet, the sacred ground where only he, mama and papa existed, where nobody else could approach.

The ecstasy quivered within him. The delightful squeals of the ‘customers’, the filth from others that intruded upon him—

“YOU SAW!!?”

A voice erupted, shaking Angelo’s hearing as he ostensibly fell back into his body. The dual-eyed sensors filled the all-view monitor, showing a skeptical light. (Angelo…!?) a call rang from reality.

“What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU BASTARD!!?”

He was seen through, blemished, trodden by something that barged it. It was practically rape, just like the uncomfortable slab of flesh and the ‘customers’. Angelo moved the control sticks erratically, trying to shake off the “Unicorn Gundam” pressing down on him. (Calm down, Lieutenant Angelo!) Banagher’s voice rang through the contact loop.

(I know about you, and you know about me. People can understand each other; there’s no reason for us to fight each other!)

''Know? See? I saw you. I know you. How you inherited your father’s ideals, how you lived together with your mother, how you kept changing yourself as you interact with humans, how you are entrusted with the possibility that surpasses generations.''

''We’re too different. You’re too dazzling. We can’t get along. It’s impossible. You saw me. It’s too embarrassing. I hate this.''

“GET OUT FROM MY HEART!!”

Banagher’s thoughts still lingered in his heart. He, with that overly upright thinking of his, continued to give off light without further thought, proclaiming that humans can change. ''You’re just like your father, using your strong self as the standard, not knowing when to look back at the weak. Captain, where’s the Captain that fills my darkness and calms me down—?'' Angelo continued look for Frontal’s mask as he continued to struggle, his mind being a mix of confusion, hollers and angst. ''I’ve been seen, I’ve been recognized. Got to kill this guy fast, got to make this guy disappear from the world before the stain spreads.''

(Angelo…!)

Banagher’s voice rang through the cockpit, and the “Unicorn Gundam” held down the shaking “Rozen Zulu”, showing a horrifying light. ''No, I can’t win, I can’t shake him off, everything will be exposed under the light.'' In his sub-consciousness, Angelo pressed the INCOM activation switch, and gathered his focused thoughts into the Psycommu.

“If you don’t get out…!”

The remaining clawed INCOM fired its cannon, and the tail-like cables spun about in space. ''This is the only way to cut off the mixture of thoughts and get rid of all the filth—right, I should have done that right from the beginning. Why didn’t I think about it earlier? If that happens, I won’t have to be trampled by that slab of flesh.'' Angelo stared at the INCOM, spinning counterclockwise in a long arc, from beyond the shoulder of the “Unicorn Gundam”.

This is good. The source of the filth that caused Frontal to fall, the stain that sullied the clean bedsheet, can be chased out now.

(Stop it, Angelo!!)

Banagher yelled, but Angelo showed a contorted smile on his sweaty, teary face.

“I, win…”

The INCOM flew in from the flank of the “Unicorn Gundam”, and stabbed into the “Rozen Zulu” abdomen. There was no mistake in the aim, and the claws crushed the ball-shaped cockpit block, ostensibly biting through his armor, digging out his heart. The cracking sounds of impact seemed to be either the sound of the Psycoframe surrounding the cockpit being crushed, or the sound of his synchronized thoughts with Banagher being crushed. Either way, Angelo was thrown out from the linear seat, his body crashing into the inner wall of the dilapidated cockpit.

It felt as if his limbs were fractured as the shock pierced through his skull, expanding in his mind that was turning blank. It was not darkness, but blank white. His thoughts, which were forcefully ruptured, had been reinstated to an original blank state. ''I won’t be dirtied again, nobody can touch me.'' The air was sucked out from the crack along the inner wall, and Angelo floated in the cockpit that was instantly filled with vacuum, staring at the Psycoframe light that was released.

The image had vanished, and the inner wall was filled with the color from the cracked monitor panel, the same bright purple color as the brooch he gave to his mother. ''I see,'' Angelo understood everything in his blank. ''Mama too did the same thing, digging out her own soul and crushing it so that she won’t be stained again—''

The “Unicorn Gundam” stood around blankly, fading away on the other side of the crack. It too faded away from his sights, and vanished in the blankness. ''Serves you right. You won’t be able to get me. Who wants to get on with you? Only the Captain can enter my heart. Captain…the mask of darkness belonging to the king of the forsaken…the Red Comet that came from the abyss of space…comet? I know what that is. I saw that on TV a long time ago. There was a large comet giving off a bright light. It seems it’ll be a few years later the next time it reaches Earth. When you’re at the age when you’re older than papa…right, that’s what mama taught me.''

“Mama, papa…”

''Where are they? I’ve to look for them.'' Angelo’s thoughts were interrupted and devoured by the blankness as his clear eyes stared at the crack in the cockpit.

The stars were flowing, and the world had returned to nothing. There was nothing terrifying or filthy. The blankness in his mind would wash and remove everything, and in this purified, white world, he finally gets back the pure white bedsheet—