Coincidental

***

Author’s note: Finally….after these seven years, I have updated!!! It hasn’t actually been seven years…although for me it has been so long…never mind my reasons for the lack of updating for I’m sure that you don’t care as long as I get to the fic…which you may not care about either and if that is the case, then I suggest you jump blindly into the fic and begin reading, for we all need to take a “leap of faith” once and a while.

Warnings: Only those that you perceive to be needed.

Disclaimer: I’m sure you are all well aware that I do not own Gundam Seed…and after some of the episodes I’ve seen…that’s probably a good thing.


***
If he had stayed, The Janitor would have witnessed the light fade out, and a pile of emerald green feathers flutter down to rest at the foot of the door.
***

Blake Cammeron took pride in himself at the fact that he never gave up easily.
He had never been one to give up easily since the day he was conceived and possibly even before that.

At the tender age of seven, Blake had took it into his head that his father was hiding something in the family’s large, imposing, white van. Something that Blake was sure had to do with the neighbours.

Now, Blake’s father had never been an agreeable man, he had never been an agreeable type since after the day he was conceived… (which still held a candle to his son’s pride but not quite as much of one), and he often found himself at the doorstep of one frustratingly blue shaded duplex opposite his side of the street, ringing the frustratingly musical doorbell and feeling overall…frustrated.
Some might have stated that there really was not much cause to get his feathers ruffled about, but Mr. Cammeron starkly disagreed.

“Those people have parked in our spot once again…seems like they are having company over…once again…damn them. So I’m going over to that - that - half-house of theirs and telling them to get that ugly Volvo the hell out of our parking spot.”

And so, Mr. Cammeron (whose first named can be referred to as Bill) would stomp out of the house and across the freshly paved street that separated the two streets from one another, and up the steps that led to the frustratingly blue house, where we left off in the first place, despite the fact the he had a two door garage and a driveway himself.

This had gone on for many months until finally it took one evening for Mr Cammeron to really snap and he took the liberty of hurling two large stones from the neighbours (who can be referred to as the Durran’s) garden through the large bay window (which had a wood trimming that was painted a pale shade of blue that was also quite frustrating) thus smashing the glass and thoroughly shattering the expensive job the Wenskii’s had paid to have done just last Summer.

Now, some would state (reasonably so) that smashing a rather expensive bay window was quite punishment enough for parking in front of your neighbours home, but Bill would of course, starkly disagree. Not only because that opinion belonged to someone other than himself, but also because he was a very large and angry man and thus it was in his nature to conduct large and angry punishments that would obviously have to extend beyond the mere—wrist slap—that could otherwise be kept within the mute borderlines of window-smashing.

And so, marvelling at the neighbours complete lack of security and absolutely gloating at the fact that none had noticed his loud encounter with the bay window, Bill placed both hands on the window sill (unmindful of the sharply protruding shards of broken glass that were now digging into the fleshy skin of his palms) and crawled through the gaping gash and directly into the (in his opinion, rather tastelessly dull) sitting room. He was apt to take something…anything really would do…for anyone else. But this was Bill. And Bill had to have something of those frustrating neighbours that was of actual value to them. Not priceless value…Bill wasn’t interested in anything that had emotional attachment, he just wanted simple revenge…the type that would give him satisfaction later on…not anything that would inspire guilt. He continued gazing around until his eyes roamed across the mantle, and there it was where he saw the radio.

The radio was a fine piece of work. Created by the man of the house (Referred to by Bill, as the “Useless male neighbour”) and utterly beautiful in every way, (which was very unusual for a home project). The thing was completely silver in colour and it had antennae that stuck out of the top like little metallic branches probing the air.

//That will do perfect.// Thought Bill as he lumbered over to where the radio sat.
Upon lifting the thing, he found that it was surprisingly light.
//Must be a cheap piece of work after all.// Bill grinned with smug satisfaction. He knew that those good-for-nothing, parking-spot stealing neighbours couldn’t possibly have taken the right amount of time to create anything of particular value.
//But they like it fine, and so it’ll do for now at least.//

Bill tucked the radio under one arm and prepared to head out again when he heard a car approach, he felt his heart freeze for a moment…before realizing that it was just the other neighbours (from way down the street, which was fortunate) having visitors over.

//Hm. I wonder why they didn’t notice the damaged window.// However, that question was soon halted as Bill again felt his heart stop with a shrill ring of the black Telus phone, whining throughout the house from the neighbour’s kitchen.

Cursing to himself, (and not bothering to keep his voice down whilst doing so) Bill stomped into the large, Country style kitchen to pick up the phone.

//Wait a minute…// Bill pondered whilst his hand hovered above the phone, //what if it’s those blasted neighbours, calling to leave themselves a message? Or maybe it’s some friends of theirs who saw the window!!!//

So Bill just let the thing continue ringing, figuring that it was far safer to just let whoever was on the other line hang up with the thought that the couple whose number they rang were out…instead of discovering that there was indeed someone home after all.

//I’m just going to take this radio and be gone.// So he strode back to the shattered window and hopped back out of it. Looking like a child who has eaten all the cookies in the jar, Bill stumbled over towards his van. His lifted open the trunk, (which was always kept unlocked and popped) and flung the radio into it without care. Bill took the keys for the van out of his fading denim pants-pocket and locked the trunk behind himself, humming as he stepped into the house; the guilty look properly erased from his visage.

***

Blake remembered asking his dad if he could retrieve something he had left in the trunk of his father’s car, the father too drunk to take a care as to what it was his son had managed to leave in a trunk that was almost always locked (now that Bill had the radio stashed in it, and couldn’t yet figure out what to do with the thing) and flung the keys to his young son from their resting place on the dirty coffee table.
Blake just snatched them up and exited the house, determined to see what exactly his dad may have been hiding.

It was a near unbearable temperature outside as the sun beat down unyieldingly upon the sidewalk and anything else in its path. Blake reminded himself to slip on some sandals before wading outside through the thickly humid air, and once he had done so, Blake could have sworn he could practically smell the rubber soles of his sandals, melting.

The boy stalked over to his father’s van and around the rear of it to the trunk. He stuck the key into the keyhole and lifted the trunk’s hood with a slight struggle of his small arms. Blake blinked twice then peered into the compartment. There he saw…a radio. The radio. The only reason he even knew that it was the Durran’s was because Blake attended the local elementary school with their son, Cian.

Cian Durran was a nice boy. He was tall for his age, blonde (but of a darker shade than Blake’s) with large blue eyes and tanned skin. Blake had heard that the boy had come to live with his parent’s after staying with his uncle for a while in New Brunswick. Wherever that was.

Now Cian had been slightly upset upon arriving at school that Friday morning. Blake had asked him why it looked like he’d been crying, (none too politely either). Cian had uttered a very quiet response of course, not wanting to raise a fuss over anything.

“Well…my dad was working on building this radio for a while. For my mom so she could listen to the news or music while she was at home, dad said. He worked on it real hard for a long time and it was finished about a month ago. But it went missing a week ago…our window was smashed into so dad says that it musta been a robber. Now he’s real upset and mommy is too. I don’t like it when they’re sad.”

Blake almost felt sorry for the kid. Almost. He probably would have been more sympathetic if his mind hadn’t already flown off somewhere else. //A radio and a smashed window huh?//

So now, as Blake stared down at the radio he knew it was his dad who stole it. He felt a bit remorseful on his father’s half…but then, it was pretty. Blake had been fascinated with electronics since he could stand and this thing would be very interesting to take apart. So he did. And he learned exactly how it worked, how it could be alternately used and re-wired, and how to put it back together to make it look like it hadn’t been tampered with. His dad never noticed a thing.

So, in short Blake never gave up. He didn’t give up working on the radio. He didn’t give up on Cian in grade school (who ultimately became Blake’s torture object) and he wasn’t going to give up on Nicol. No matter what, (so ultimately, Nicol was screwed.)


After Blake had graduated from Grade school, he slipped into a full three years of uneventful schoolwork and uneventful teachers with their uneventful yet perverted students. High school, however, proved to be quite fun…and extremely eventful as the transfer to an all-boy’s boarding school took place for Blake. He almost missed his neighbourhood at times. Cian, (who was quite tall but had thankfully stopped growing at the age of 15) had moved away last year to go back to New Brunswack or whatever the place was called, and Blake knew he would have been utterly bored back at home (despite the homesickness) with no one to bother and nothing to re-wire…or film for that matter as he had developed a new fascination with video cameras as of Junior high.

Well, at least the current year was turning out to be quite entertaining.
//And yet something still feels like it’s missing.// Blake mused as he gazed out into the roiling depths of heated, Arizona night-time darkness. With a sadistic grin, Blake just continued staring out the window. //I wonder what it could be.//

***

Well, that was an interesting chapter. I\'m not sure if my reader\'s will agree. They\'ll have to review and tell me I suppose...*Sighs* What hardships I must endure. This Chapter delved into Blake\'s history and I managed to introduce a charcter that will be appearing in further chapters. A new studemt? Will this mean trouble for Kira and Nicol? Or will it be fortunate? Maybe it\'ll please or upset Blake? Who knows...besides me of course, I know everything. *Snickers at self-absorbed-ness* Oh, and I apologize once again for the delay.