The air in the high-security conference room of the UN base was thick, not with cigar smoke or stale air, but with a crushing sense of defeat. Fluorescent lights shone mercilessly on the faces of the assembled General Staff, illuminating the lines of exhaustion and fury etched into every one of them. Their most recent offensive, carefully planned and executed with overwhelming force, had ended in a disastrous, near-total rout.
"How can we lose? This wasn't some minor skirmish! We just lost two years of mobilization, two years of painstaking coordination and resource allocation!" General Marcus Thorne, a veteran officer whose career was built on logistics and tactical victories, slammed his fist onto the polished table. The tremor did little to dispel the anger that boiled in the room.
The Chief of Intelligence, Colonel Chen, consulted his tablet, his face grim. "The reports are conclusive, General. It's the same organization. The ones responsible for the Kyushu catastrophe. The same TSF models have been sighted at the assaults on the Japanese bases, and their specialized units breached the defensive wall with almost surgical precision. They are not an army; they are a well-funded, technologically superior paramilitary force."
Thorne leaned forward, his eyes burning with frustration. "Technologically superior? Their TSF's move like ghosts and hit like MOABS! We need an answer, not just data. Why can't our own TSFs lock onto them? Why are their weapons bypassing our standard countermeasures? And why can't our missiles lock on to them!"
A cool, measured voice cut through the rising panic. "Because, General, they aren't just one or two generations ahead. They've made a leap," said Dr. Kouzuki Yuuko, head of the Alternative IV Research Initiative. She wore a pristine white lab coat over a severe black dress, a figure of icy composure amidst the military chaos.
"Their Tactical Surface Fighters (TSFs) are simply too advanced and too powerful for our current fleet. We are fighting a future war with last century's equipment."
She tapped a silver pen casually against her tablet.
"The only path forward that offers us a meaningful advantage is acquisition. We must capture one. Or, failing that, secure enough intact components to reverse-engineer their technology. A single piece of their core, a fragment of their control unit… even a simple servo—that's worth a thousand of your men's lives."
Thorne glowered. He hated her detached, purely scientific calculus, but he knew the truth of her words. "You're Kouzuki Yuuko," he acknowledged, the name a statement of skepticism and begrudging respect.
"The one who insists 'Alternative IV' is the only viable path to victory."
Yuuko nodded, a flicker of something dangerously close to amusement in her eyes. "Indeed. And as a proponent of superior strategy, I must now propose an unthinkable course of action to secure the necessary time and intelligence." She paused, letting the weight of her next words settle. "I propose that we negotiate with them."
The General Staff erupted in incredulous shouts.
Thorne silenced them with a harsh gesture. "No! Absolutely not! I told you, Doctor, we do not—and will not—negotiate with terrorists! They murdered hundreds of thousands at Kyushu!"
Yuuko's cool veneer didn't crack. She didn't argue the morality; she argued the logistics. "With the total loss of former Hive 22, General, and the severe manpower depletion from the Kyushu attack, and the defeat in hive 22, we don't have the strength to prosecute another major offensive, let alone an extended war of attrition. Your forces are exhausted, and your reserve logistics are in shambles. We need time, and we need intelligence. Negotiation buys us both." Her lips curled into that signature, almost playful smirk that always infuriated Thorne. It was the smirk of a victor who had already calculated the opponent's demise.
Thorne swallowed his pride, tasting ash. Her logic was cruel, but irrefutable.
"Alright, Doctor. We will pursue your line of contact. But understand this: if this negotiation fails, if we take any more casualties due to this strategy—"
"I know," Yuuko interjected, cutting him off with a crisp finality. She pushed her chair back, the sound scraping loudly on the polished floor. Without another word or glance, she stood up and walked out, leaving the General Staff to stew in their mixture of humiliation and desperate necessity.
Hours later, beneath a harsh, midday sun, Dr. Yuuko's motorcade arrived at the irradiated rubble of Kyushu. The scene was a monument to the enemy's destructive power. Two UN soldiers, demoralized and caked in dust, stood guard over a specific section of the debris field.
"So what exactly are we supposed to do here?" one soldier muttered, kicking at a piece of melted armor plating. The object of their protection was a pathetic, mangled ruin—the charred, distorted frame of what intelligence confirmed was a Zudah, a mobile suit. Now It's nothing but scrap now.
"They said it was a high-priority asset to protect, they managed to down one of them terrorist bastards." the other soldier replied simply, before snapping to attention as Yuuko's black sedan pulled to a stop.
"Ma'am!" the soldier saluted.
"At ease," she replied, her gaze already fixed on the wreck. Her assistant, a meticulous young woman named Misa, followed close behind.
They approached the destroyed Zudah, jumping into the crater, not caring about her lab coat getting dirty. Yuuko moved like a detective at a crime scene, observing details that the soldiers missed. The deformation pattern of the titanium alloy, the precise manner in which the cockpit had been breached—it all suggested a calculated, deliberate self-destruct mechanism.
Yuuko then climbed onto the torso with a grunt, and then approached what was the cockpit. She crouched down, looking at the partially melted insides and electronics.
Misa meanwhile stayed on the ground, swiping at her tablet. Her eyes then widened slightly after a swipe at the screen, putting a finger on her earpiece.
"Yuuko Sensei, I found something. Reports indicate that immediately after it fell, its systems emitted a final, localized transmission before the complete self-immolation," Misa reported.
Yuuko peeked inside the destroyed cockpit, her white gloves touching the scorched metal. "What was the transmission? I want the direct audio if you have it." she said in a flat tone, as she pulled off one of the joysticks.
Misa played a static-laced sound bite. It was a distorted, electronic voice, broken by the final explosion, but the words were clearly audible, a defiant whisper: "SIEG ZEON!"
Misa looked confused, quirking an eyebrow up and tilting her head slightly. "Zeon? Is it a code word? A faction name?"
Yuuko stood up, dusting off her coat. The name, combined with the extreme technology, clicked into place. "Zeon, huh? A new layer of complexity. They are not merely terrorists; they have an ideology, a flag." She turned to Misa. "Very well. I want every single part we can salvage—every circuit, every shard of armor—delivered to my research base immediately for further study. Don't miss a grain of dust."
"Yes Sensei! I'll inform the recovery team already." Misa said while was already Yuuko walking towards her car. The enemy had revealed a name, and in that name, she saw not just a political group, but a scientific puzzle to unlock.
Before she got in, she turned to take one final look at the wreck, glancing at the emblem of the partially burnt shoulder shield

"Zeon…" She whispered, "Come now Misa, the faster the better." She said nonchalantly, getting in her car.
"Hai Sensei." Misa responded, bowing respectfully and following after Yuuko
Tokyo Palace
In the hallowed halls of the Empire of Japan's capital, the traditional decor—gold leaf, silk banners, and ancient screens—stood in stark contrast to the raw, desperate argument unfolding within the Imperial Council.
"My Empress, we have lost too many resources and too many lives! Our logistics are strained to the breaking point. We must, for the survival of the Empire, negotiate with them!" A prominent official, his voice hoarse, pleaded with the ruler. Several voices echoed his sentiment.
"No, Empress! We must uphold the honor of our nation! They have killed countless innocent civilians! We have to retaliate, to show them the Empire of Japan does not bow!" A hardliner countered, his face flushed with patriotism and anger. The officials descended into a noisy bickering match.
"Quiet!"
The command, issued from the throne by the Empress herself, was quiet yet absolute, cutting through the chaos like tempered steel. She was young, but her bearing was that of a millennia of tradition and ultimate authority.
"I agree that their deeds are monstrous. Their killing of our people is an affront we will avenge," she stated, her voice even and heavy with sorrow. "But as the Sovereign, I must prioritize the defense of the whole. At this moment, if we commit the full strength of our army to a preemptive retaliation, we leave our remaining home defenses fatally exposed… Especially to our other enemies."
She fixed the council with an unwavering gaze. Said men and women shifting in their seats under her gaze. "The choice is clear. We have to negotiate with them to buy us time. We do not have the ability to send out a force that can guarantee victory. Our primary goal is survival, and to rebuild. Let it be known: we negotiate now, under duress. But if their terms are unacceptable, or if these talks fail, then every single remaining unit of the Imperial Army will be thrown into the battle. We will not be their victims forever."
The officials bowed their heads, accepting the agonizing compromise. Negotiation was an act of tactical retreat, an agreement that if it bought time, the next battle would be fought on their terms.
Back at the former Hive 22, the landscape was rapidly changing. The devastation was being paved over by frantic, organized construction. I sat in my newly requisitioned command chair, monitoring the construction progress.
"Commander, the land is completely secured. All enemy ships have retreated and have been accounted for," Jean reported, standing at attention. "We are now counting our losses, which are minimal, and have started the massive effort to rebuild the infrastructure for long-term occupation."
A genuine, rare smile touched my lips. "Good. Continue the good work. Prioritize defense structures first, then worker housing." I immediately funneled a huge amount of my Points into summoning dedicated construction teams, more specialized soldiers, and maintenance personnel. The system was proving to be a highly effective, if morally dubious, engine of war.
It's good that every kill, every single combat casualty of the enemy, gets me Points, I thought, reviewing my balance. The Kyushu massacre netted me a fortune. I have plenty now—enough to last maybe a year before the fund runs dry, as long as I focus on buying versatile and cheap mobile suits—like the Zaku line and MS made before that. Ugh my wallet is crying thinking about those experimental behemoths.
This land was more than a base; it was the foundation of my sovereignty. It needed permanence.
"But first, it needs a name!" I declared, standing up and looking out at the flurry of activity. I needed a name that conveyed power, central authority, and unyielding ambition. After a few minutes of internal debate, the perfect name surfaced. It was a name steeped in history and a promise of future domination.
"Axis. That will be the name of this land. From here, we will command everything," I said, a satisfying finality in my voice. "I can already see it, our Empire expanding."
I leaned back, the word already echoing in the new command center. Axis was established. Now, it was time to expand.
"Jean," I called, a glint in my eye. "Start compiling reconnaissance reports on Hive 21. Our next move is already set."
Jean saluted crisply, a wide excited grin on her face. "Yes Commander! Sieg Zeon!"
"Sieg Zeon you beautiful bastard. Do a good job cause i have a little gift for my right hand woman" I chuckle heartily, Jean's smile widened and bowed before leaving.
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Also i want to thank @gunman567 for helping me