Today just wasn’t going Kallen Stadtfeldt-nee-Kozuki’s way. Which, considering the day to day quality of the rest of her life, was really saying something.
After leaving the truck on her customized red Glasgow (to this day it still amazed her how Naoto was able to acquire and repair the thing, she always suspected he stole the money from their bastard father) Kallen simply planned to lead the Britannian Knightmares on a merry chase around the less populated area of the ghetto before losing them and hiding within one of the group’s safehouses.
She never expected the damn Brits would go as far as to surround the whole ghetto and start a mass purge! And yet, maybe she really should have: after all, did all this needlessly cruelty not fit Britannia to a T?
As more and more troops appeared, from infantry to Knightmares, she decided to make the only choice left and act as a decoy for the others: despite being beyond outdated her Glasgow still had an expulsion system, so with some luck she would be able to escape even if her Knightmare was destroyed.
Of course, first she had to lose the two Sutherlands hot on her tail. Before the battery of her own Knightmare ran out of energy.
“Die, filthy Eleven!” the jackass commander of the Brits roared over the radio.
Or before the Brittanians managed to actually blast her into a thousand pieces. A conclusion that was becoming more and more likely, as evidenced by a round of ammunition narrowly winging Kallen’s frame.
The redheaded rebel snarled furiously as she worked the machine’s controls, fighting to keep it upright, before glancing skywards despairingly. “Still...” she mused to herself. “Definitely beats going to another ball with the Bitch so she can try and whore me out again.”
“The west exit.”
“Wha—?!” Kallen gasped in surprise, her head snapping up as an unfamiliar voice filled her mech’s cockpit.
“Use the railroad,” the voice continued sternly as it—she now realized—filtered out of her Glasgow’s communicator. “If you get on it, you can move towards the west exit.”
“Wha—who are you? How do you know this frequency?” Kallen snapped, suspicion dripping from her voice.
“Well, that’s what happens when you don’t bother encrypting your messages.” a second voice commented with a lighter tone. “You just need to scan the available frequencies until you find a signal.”
Kallen felt her cheeks turn as red as her hair. She and Ohgi were aware of the problem, but they just didn’t have the funds to fix it: buying anti-tanks weapons and energy cells for her Glasgow on the black market drained a large slice of their available money, leaving very little behind.
“While my... colleague is right, we’re running out of time. Trust us if you want to win.” the first voice added.
“To win?” Kallen parroted, confused. But between being killed and trusting a pair of mysterious voices the choice was obvious. She headed west and jumped on the tracks using her landspinners, the devices allowing her to accelerate even further. “Hey! What should I do now?”
“A train is coming towards your direction, help is waiting on it.” the second voice informed her. “I’m sure the questions you have will soon multiply by tenfold, but for now I ask you to trust us and jump on the train.”
She already trusted them once, what was one more time?
Like they said, a train was headed right towards her. Kallen waited for the last possible moment before jumping, but as she prepared to do so she caught sight of a person standing on top of the locomotive. It was a woman wearing white clothes and a full-face gas mask with a mirrored glass visor, the same height as Kallen but probably a few years older. Hanging from her shoulders by long straps were a big black case, probably containing a heavy weapon, and—
Kallen squinted incredulously.
...Was that really a chainsaw? She’d heard about improvised weapons, but that took the cake!
Realizing she was still moving at full speed towards a moving train Kallen decided to push her worries to the side and jumped just before hitting the locomotive, soaring above the masked woman and landing on the carriage behind her.
One of the Knightmares chasing after her grabbed the locomotive, locking its legs and forcing the train to harshly decelerate. “You, chase after the Glasgow!” the pilot ordered with a tone of authority.
“Yes, my Lord!” the other Knightmare promptly answered before jumping towards the train. However, at that moment he also noticed the masked woman’s presence. Not only that, she was running towards his Knightmare while holding on a chainsaw of all things! “Filthy Eleven, do you want to die a fool’s death? I’ll happily grant—!”
It was right around this point in time when all sanity that Kallen once knew died a very brutal death.
After all, that was the only possible way to explain how the woman leaped towards the Knightmare faster than a bullet, swinging her weapon and cutting off the Sutherland’s legs with a single blow.
“...what?” Kallen squeaked out weakly.
====
“WHAT?!” Margrave Jeremiah roared at the sight before him, fearing for his sanity. After all, it was impossible—impossible!—for a single human being, armed with a bladed weapon of all things, to cut a Knightmare in half. It just wasn’t possible, and if a soldier tried to tell him the same yesterday he would have laughed at the bad joke before assigning them to latrine duty for a month.
And yet, for all that it was impossible, it had just happened right in front of him.
Fear turned into horror as the impossibility then continued when the masked woman— no, the masked monster skipped to a halt under the falling Knightmare and thrust her chainsaw upwards, ramming it straight into the cockpit. The pilot’s agonized howls of pain and terror over the radio would haunt Jeremiah’s nightmares for days to come, along with the sound of human flesh and bones being barbarously sliced apart by the chainsaw’s spinning blade.
“D-DIEEEE!!!” Jeremiah shouted, aiming his mount’s Assault Rifle at the woman and opening fire. Moving faster and with more agility than should be possible for a human she removed her weapon and leaped to the side, dodging the rain of bullets, before sprinting towards the Margrave’s Knightmare. The moment he tried to get a bead on her his gun abruptly detonated, ruining his Knightmare's hands. “A malfunction?! At a time like this!”
Upon reaching the legs of his Knightmare Jeremiah briefly lost sight of the masked woman, only for her to reappear right in front of the Frame’s head and ram her weapon straight into the Factsphere. All screens within the cockpit turned red, each one reporting catastrophic damage: seeing the messages of warning quickly piling up Jeremiah made a hasty decision and activated the Ejection System.
His cockpit separated from the Sutherland before the rockets under it came to life, sending Jeremiah away from the physical threat. But it did nothing to save him from his own thoughts.
“I don’t believe it...” the orange-eyed man muttered in disbelief even as he was launched through the air, the image of a single woman on foot defeating a Knightmare seared into his retinas. “What, what was—!?”
Just then, an SOS message arrived on his still functioning radio. “Reporting! The terrorists received reinforcements! I need—Aaaaah!”
On instinct Jeremiah’s hand reached out to reply, only to receive another SOS. “Help! Help! I don’t know how but—N-No! Stay away! Stay away!”
“Aaaahh!!!! It burns! It burns! Save meeee!!!”
Jeremiah felt all blood leave his face as emergency messages and desperate cries began to fill all available frequencies. “My God...”
====
Kallen was seriously wondering if she was dying within her crushed cockpit and all of this was just a hallucination caused by extreme blunt trauma to her, according to Naoto and Tamaki, ‘extremely hard skull’.
That, or her body produced so much adrenaline it became a drug. Scientifically improbable, but chemistry was one of the lessons she hated the most so what did she know?
Either possibility would explain how a person on foot, even if armed with a chainsaw—especially if that was all she was armed with—was able to take down two Knightmares by herself. “Okay, seriously: what? When did the world stop making sense?”
“You tell me girl!”
Kallen jumped when the masked woman answered her, reminding the Japanese freedom fighter that she’d left her communicator on.
The woman then leaped down from the ruined Knightmare and started to walk back towards Kallen. Despite having cut through military-grade armor the chain of her weapon looked as pristine as before, without a single stain, dent or sign of wear. Kallen got a good look at the thing as the woman let out a weary sigh, and then heaved the weapon onto her shoulder. And now that Kallen wasn’t running for her life, she also noticed the distinctly feline ears and tail on the woman’s body: not an uncommon sight those days, but the phenomenon was recent enough only young people had them. Kallen’s mysterious rescuer looked a few years too old for that.
“Seriously...” the woman groaned in a long-suffering tone, slapping a hand to her forehead. “I went to sleep one day and then wake up in a completely different place! Not only that, the situation outside is as fucked-up as it can be. I just can’t catch a breath...”
“Hey, Kallen!”
“Ohgi?!” Kallen spun her Knightmare around and watched in shock as her leader and the rest of their group pulled up on the railway. They were dirty and weary, but thankfully still in one piece.
“You’re really here!” Ohgi called up, relief evident in his tired voice. “So they weren’t lying then!”
“Eh?” She quickly connected the dots. “Ohgi, those two mysterious voices contacted you too?”
“‘Course they did.” The woman caught everyone’s attention as she spoke up, jumping off the roof of the train and walking towards the first carriage without missing a step. “We—well not me personally but you get the point—contacted everyone in your little group.”
Ohgi had no way of knowing what happened a few minutes earlier, but after seeing an unknown masked woman and two destroyed Knightmares next to an apparently fine Kallen, he knew something strange was afoot. “Who are you?”
He couldn’t see the mysterious woman’s face, but something in her body language told the ex-teacher she was grinning under the mask. “Callsign Blaze, Elite Operator of Rhodes Island.”
Tamaki, who’d pointed and was still pointing his rifle at the woman, looked skeptical. Like always, really. “Rhodes Island? Who the hell—?”
The redhead’s rant was interrupted by a quick series of ‘thunks’, which were produced by metal hooks tied to long cables connecting with the train’s metal surface. Several other people, all of them wearing masks identical or similar to the mysterious woman’s, then used the cables to zipline on the train’s roof from nearby buildings, while others simply climbed over it. Ohgi couldn’t help but notice that, apart from the masks, those people wore a... peculiar motley of different outfits and weapons.
“There’ll be time for explanations later. For right now...” Having reached the first carriage Blaze grabbed the hatch with one hand and opened it, revealing rows of Sutherland fresh out of the factory. “I’d suggest you all hurry and mount up. We have a purge to purge.”
====
“How many forces can you field?” Lelouch asked while familiarizing himself with the holographic projection machine aptly named ‘Holotank’. It was connected to a swarm of flying drones covering the entire Shinjuku ghetto, giving him eyes and ears all over the battlefield. An incredibly useful source of real-time data, though understandably difficult to use even with the assistance of a true artificial existence. Lelouch loved it already.
“PRTS?” The Doctor asked, swapping between viewpoints with simple flicks of his fingers. Much to Lelouch’s annoyance the man picked up the boy’s blatant interest and was moving deliberately slow, as if showing him the ropes.
“Medic Operators have been assigned top priority for release from cryogenic sleep in order to increase the amount of available personnel proficient in the procedure.” The AI answered. “Currently there are 50 Operators judged combat-ready, more will become available once their conditions are judged stable and they are brought up to speed on the current scenario.”
The exiled prince frowned. “I fear I know the answer already, but is Rhodes in possession of armored fighting vehicles? What about fighting aircraft?”
“Ah ah, sorry but no.” The Doctor shook his head. “Those things are already rare in the military of our world too. We have a few helicopters in storage, but they don’t have any armaments installed on them... plus we’re underground and it’s going to be hard enough getting our Operators out as is. Still, don’t worry Lelouch: going by what you told me about those ‘Knightmares’ there are more than a few Operators capable of handling them.”
“Allow me to doubt the efficacy of infantry against high-mobility armor.”
====
“Well, that’s me told...” It wasn’t often Lelouch willingly admitted he was wrong, but he had to after seeing a person cutting down two Knightmares with a chainsaw. Of course that only raised more questions: like what was that weapon made of, and how did Blaze come into possession of such astounding physical abilities? Was that something all people of Terra were capable of with proper training and good genetics, or the result of a special medical procedure?
“Yes, yes it is.” Oh, but did he hate how smug the Doctor sounded right now. For some stupid reason the glass visor of his mask was showing a smiling, winking emoticon like a cellphone’s screen. The first time he used that function Lelouch looked to the others for an explanation, but only received a shake of her head from Kal'tsit. “Still, you contributed too: I imagine Blaze will be getting a lot of mileage out of your information on their armaments. She’s never faced so many firearms that she got the chance to try warping their barrels.”
“Ergh, now there’s a case of approval filling me with a mixed sense of pride and shame.” Lelouch had no lost sympathy for the Britannians, but this wasn’t how he expected Rhodes to use his data about enemy forces.
At the moment, Lelouch was within Rhodes’ war room with the Doctor, Kal'tsit and Closure, coordinating the efforts of battle-ready Operators and the recently Knightmare-equipped resistance cell. Amiya had left to join the frontline with the first group of Operators released from cryosleep, much to Kal'tsit's displeasure since the woman thought the situation was too volatile to risk the young Cautus. The Doctor was equally unhappy, but for a different reason: Amiya had insisted he stay behind, and nothing he said was enough to sway the young woman’s decision. And yet, oddly, Lelouch couldn’t help but sense some grudging form of respect from the two at the rabbit-girl’s determination.
CC, meanwhile, simply disappeared to who-knows-where when the route to the surface was cleared and their backs were turned. The exiled prince wasn’t too overly worried about the green-haired girl’s fate: after all, while he had unfinished business with that witch, he also had a feeling she had business with him as well.
Lelouch shook off his thoughts and refocused on the more pressing matters at hand. “For curiosity’s sake, are firearms also rare in your world? Here they quickly supplanted melee weapons after an efficient design for them was developed.”
“That’s a conversation that can wait for another, less dire time...” the Doctor brought up a screen, increasing its size and resolution. “Say, once we handle that squadron three blocks over that’s sweeping apartments?”
The raven-haired boy waved one hand in a dismissive motion. “Don’t worry, I can recognize what takes priority right now. I can wait. Also—” he brought up a new screen, moving it next to the one opened by the Doctor. “Like I thought, they have mechanized support one block away. We need to engage them at the same time or they’ll simply reinforce each other.”
“Oooh, good point!” Now the Doctor’s mask was showing wide and eager eyes. “Say, do you want to help me coordinate everyone? It would be faster than having you explain everything new to me.”
Lelouch smirked, unafraid of showing his current emotion. “This offer... I graciously accept it.”
By the side, unseen by both men, Kal'tsit's ears flattened over her head. “Oh god, he’s found a kindred spirit.”
“And that is a bad thing, why? Aren’t you always saying that you would happily do without the Doctor if you could?” Closure asked without looking up from the screen. Next to her was the partially disassembled radio Lelouch stole from Kallen’s truck.
“You don’t understand.” the feline woman hissed. “They are getting along.”
“Like most of our Operators? Come on Kal, there are more important things to worry about.” the black-haired woman put on a headset with microphone. “For example—Bagpipe, Grani! Where are you on getting the rookie and the birdbrain to the designated car on the train with the spare Knightmare Frame I requested? I can’t wait to take it apart and learn all of its secrets!”
“We’ll be there in a jiffy!” the Vouivre answered on the comm channel. “There was a delay; we saw those assholes in dark-red uniforms shooting civilians so I ran them over with the truck, then we stepped out and finished them.”
Some muffled words came over the connection, and then Bagpipe continued in a shocked tone. “Grani just told me those guys fit the profile of the Royal Guards who were after Lelouch and CC. What the heck? They didn’t look at all like the Royal Guards of Victoria! And nowhere near as strong either!”
“Don’t care! You did your good daily action, now bring me the goods!” Closure lightly slapped the headset.
“Yes, yes! We’re almost there, swear!”
====
Villetta Nu didn’t hate Elevens and other Numbers.
That isn’t to say she didn’t look down on them or considered herself better than them. She was still a proud Britannian and loyal subject of Emperor Charles. But all she felt for them was mild disdain and indifference, not hatred: hate was a powerful feeling reserved for those that hurt you deeply, and the majority of Numbers were mere strangers to Villetta. People completely unrelated to her.
Her becoming part of the Purist Faction, the so-called “Purebloods”, was merely a result of supporting Jeremiah Gottwald, the superior officer who better understood her ambitions and promised her the title of Baroness once her service record allowed it. Unlike her current Knight title, as a Baroness her descendants would retain the noble rank. Allowing her to give rise to the Nu noble family.
“Yes, that’s it! Run you filthy Elevens!” One of her current teammates shouted with glee, waiting a few seconds before opening fire on the fleeing civilians.
That did not make putting up with the other Purebloods any easier. They had a tendency to be downright sadistic when dealing with Elevens, something Villetta thought was beneath Nobles such as them: she could understand torture for the purpose of interrogation, if done by an expert to avoid the subject agreeing to just anything to make the pain stop, but if they had to kill Elevens why not just put a bullet in their brains and be done with it? Not to mention using Knightmares against unarmed people was an incredible waste: there was the regular army for that, Elite Pilots like her were better served hunting down the remaining rebels.
“Are you done?” she called out after the little group of civilians was dead. Considering their bodies were torn apart checking out was unnecessary. “His Highness Clovis wants his orders to be carried out today.”
“Yes, yes.” The other pilot replied with a flippant tone, making Villetta grit her teeth. Officially she was squad leader, so it was within her rights to demand proper respect... but it so happened that everyone else in the squad had a higher noble rank than her: if she pushed things too far there were many ways those spoiled brats could hinder her career, and as respected as Gottwald is there was a limit to his influence. Not to mention that, as his subordinate, every blemish on Villetta’s status would reflect back on him.
The things she did for loyalty. Then again, that’s what gained her Jeremiah’s respect.
They barely crossed a few dozen meters before another of her three teammates suddenly stopped, Factsphere opening in the direction of a ruined but still standing warehouse. “Found more of the filthy rats!”
Villetta resisted the urge to sigh: it didn’t matter if those were more civilians or proper rebels, this was going to be a long day. “Make it quick! We’re running behind schedule!”
“Gladly!” He answered, then demonstrated he didn’t understand a damn thing by opening fire at the warehouse’s upper beams, making the whole wall crash down and revealing a group of unarmed Elevens covering and shivering in one corner. At least the fool didn’t waste more time with pointless taunts before aiming his rifle at them and opening fire.
There was a flash of movement. Something moving so fast it was just a blur on the camera.
And then the bullets, each one bigger than a human’s forearm, instead of tearing apart flesh bounced off a metal surface. Whatever the thing shielding the Elevens was, it was big enough to cover them, and spinning. But despite the latter, Villetta could still make out something in the middle.
It was a demon. A somewhat feminine face carved out of metal, with a big nose and framed by flowing hair. The lips were pulled up into a terrifying sneer, the upper canines so long they curved outward like the fags of a boar. To complete the demonic appearance a pair of thick horns emerged from the forehead.
“What the...” The Pureblood stopped shooting, finally realizing something was wrong. It allowed Villetta to finally see in detail the thing protecting the Elevens, but the sight that greeted her eyes made the dark-skinned woman wonder if someone was playing a prank on her.
A shield. The thing that survived a hail of Knightmare-issued bullets unscathed was a triangular, human-sized metal shield. It was held up by a very tall woman with long green hair and a single horn on the right side of her forehead, nowadays a normal sight in Area Eleven thanks to Britannian teenagers and their insane fashion sense. Her face was covered by a black gas mask, completely hiding away her expression.
No one spoke a word or moved a single muscle in the aftermath, both Britannians and Elevens too shocked by the sight of something so outlandish.
That was when she stepped out from behind the green-haired woman. Another female with a black gas mask, younger and shorter but still somehow menacing in her own way. She had blue hair tied into a ponytail, two jagged horns poking out on both sides of her head. Hanging behind her from leather straps were two swords: a grey one without a sheath and one still concealed inside a red sheath. Villetta looked at the black lenses of the blue-haired woman’s mask and somehow felt a shiver run down her spine.
The shiver turned into her instincts screaming in fear when the mysterious woman put a hand on the sheathed blade’s hilt, fingers slowly closing around the handle. “RETREAT!” She shouted through the loudspeakers while pushing on the reverse brakes with all her strength, forcing her Sutherland to pull back as fast as possible.
And yet—
“Slash, Chi Xiao!”
Villetta shouldn’t have been able to hear it, but she did. A command not shouted, but whispered. Something flashed, filling the world with blood-red light, and for just an instant she saw the silhouette of some great serpentine beast darting around like a lightning bolt.
Then it was over, and Villetta was jostled out of her seat by the back of the cockpit hitting something hard and unyielding. It took a few seconds for her dazzled mind to realize her Knightmare’s torso was flat on the ground, its mechanical legs still standing ahead of her where they have been sliced off cleanly.
She blinked at the absurd sight, and it took a conscious effort for Villetta to move her head around. Taking in the sight of the other Pureblood Knightmares lying in pieces, like dolls taken apart by a child armed with a sharp knife.
A part of Villetta Nu, the one that grew up in a world where things make sense and people cannot block a Knightmare with a shield or cut them with a sword, wanted to deny everything as a nightmare.
The part of Villetta Nu that was trained as a soldier reached for the emergency button and activated the Ejection System. Her cockpit separated from the Sutherland’s back, the underside rockets roaring to life—
With a horrible grinding sound the whole cockpit shuddered, followed by the rockets sputtering out and dying. Without a method of propulsion Villetta’s metal shell crashed on the ground, where it was ripped open by the green-haired woman with the aid of her shield’s pointy ends.
“Sorry, but they told me about the Ejection System so I was prepared.” The monster in the shape of a woman calmly told Villetta as she grabbed the front of her uniform and pulled her out. By that point the dark-skinned Britannian had lost any will to resist, reduced to silently cursing everything: those two monsters in gas masks, the world and most of all her own weakness.
The shield-bearer stared at Villetta for a few seconds, as if expecting a different reaction, before looking back at the sword-bearer. “Should I finish her off?”
Dark glass lenses looked in silent condemnation before their owner slightly shook her head. “The civilians take priority, and that one is harmless now.”
“If you say so.” The shield-bearer let go of Villetta, her body dropping like a bag of potatoes, then followed after the retreating sword-bearer. Neither of them sparing the dark-skinned Britannian even a single last glance.
Villetta Nu just continued to grit her teeth in impotent rage, too afraid to move in case the two monsters changed their minds.
====
“Tell me, Matterhorn: where is Kjerag?”
“Master SilverAsh?” The tall Forte was surprised by the sudden (and obviously loaded) question, but that did not stop him from blocking all bullets shot their way by the ever-increasing panicking Britannian troops.
Admittedly, being subjected to such a fierce rate of fire from guns was a novel experience due to their rarity back home. Luckily for him Matterhorn had the forethought to participate in the joint training sessions organized by Penguin Logistics: Exusiai’s marksmanship talent and attitude for Laterano firearms provided a large amount of precious experience. Thanks to it the Forte was able to account for the difference between arrows and bullets, ensuring no projectile so much as grazed his young charge. And it certainly helped that, whatever arms their opponents were bringing to bear, their firepower was far from being anywhere near as punishing as the armaments the Laterano forged. Compared to the blessed barrages those angels can bring forth, Matterhorn could only equate the Brittanians’ attempts to a spring shower. Which, thankfully, gave him time to answer his liege.
“Master, if my request is not too insolent may I ask you to elaborate before I answer?” Matterhorn swung his kukri machete by the flat of the blade, hitting and sending a small piece of rubble soaring through the air. It hit a soldier’s knee half a second after pulling the trigger, causing them to trip and fall while firing wildly. Tenzin, SilverAsh’s loyal pet, ruthlessly took advantage of the distraction to cut open the throats of the whole troop, leaving the Britannians to choke on their own blood.
“Very well. Ponder upon this: Kjerag, our home, what does define it?” despite the fierce battle happening around him the tall Feline, even taller than his own bodyguard, was walking with the kind of leisure pace common among people taking a stroll during the holidays. That did not stop him from swinging his cane with monstrous strength and unreal speed, before continuing to walk on unimpeded. The only hint that something happened at all was a flash of silver light and another bipedal tank cut apart. Along with the shell it fired. “Is it the land within the national borders? The cities and villages where the people who identify themselves as Kjeragans live? The snow-covered mountains that existed, harsh and majestic, even before our venerable ancestors first set foot on them?”
With a slow, sweeping movement of his arm SilverAsh gestured to the ruined city around them. The enemy infantry’s attempts to attack from the other side and the back were constantly thwarted by Courier, the agile Vanguard dancing around soldiers and cutting them down with quick swings of his sword. For once the young Itra was not smiling, the reason behind it quite simple: those that dare try to harm his master earn nothing but his contempt.
Matterhorn nodded in understanding. Considering the brief explanation they received after waking up from cryogenic sleep, and what it implied... “Master SilverAsh, to me Kjerag is by your side. No matter how far away I travel, as long as I can perform my duty then my homeland will remain within reach.”
“Your loyalty is commendable. You make your father and grandfather proud.” SilverAsh’s tone and expression remained aloof, yet the young Forte’s heart swelled with pride at the praise. He has been the Feline’s bodyguard for many years, and knew his Master used actions and not words to express his emotions. “Still, our current situation is, to put it bluntly, without precedents.”
‘At least recorded ones’ was left unsaid.
“Kjerag is beyond our reach at the moment, and so is Karlan. Quite vexing, even though I made sure my company can continue existing without my guidance.” the tall Feline grunted slightly, then swung his cane to slash apart a group of Britannian soldiers that were unfortunate enough to enter his reach. Those were the only visible signs of his irritation. “But you and Courier remain by my side. And so are Anya and Ensia. What we lost can be regained. Maybe not in the same form, but still something to be proud of. As long as we live, Karlan and Kjerag live too.”
SilverAsh raised his cane and pointed it ahead of him. Beyond the dilapidated buildings, towards the unknown lands waiting there. “We must carve out a place in this new world where we can belong. I look at this ‘Britannia’ and see no alliance or neutrality, only enmity. To live freely we must defang it, completely and utterly. If we must remain with Rhodes Island to do so...“
He grunted. “Then so be it.”
Matterhorn looked at SilverAsh from the corner of his eyes.
“Master, forgive me for asking but are you still-” He thought of the right word to use. “-bothered by Miss Amiya?”
After working as an Operator for Rhodes Island Matterhorn gained a healthy respect for Amiya, further reinforced by the medical help they provided to Miss Ensia. But he has been made privy of SilverAsh’s suspicions regarding the young Cautus’ true identity, and acknowledged it was something his master could not ignore.
“I’m not crowning her. Not yet.” SilverAsh admitted. “There is still much she has to prove, but at the moment a ‘wait and see’ approach will serve us well.”
A Knightmare Frame chose that moment to burst through a wall ahead of them, the Factsphere opening to collect data.
“In the meantime.”
Inside the cockpit the pilot suddenly shivered violently, feeling as if they were just tossed naked inside a lake during winter. The same feeling was experienced by literally everyone in a radius of several meters, with a few able to see their breaths despite the sun shining overhead.
“I will teach Britannia how to show Kjerag the appropriate respect.” SilverAsh finished with an ominous tone, an intense silver aura completely enveloping his cane.
====
“Alright, seriously? So they realized their transmissions are monitored and changed the signal: that’s smart.” Mayer complained loudly, her fingers flying over the Meeboo model that she jury rigged into a mobile workbench. “But to choose the first available frequency close to it? And doing the same four times in a row? That’s way too incompetent!”
“It’s not that. It’s overconfidence.” Silence replied with a frown while trying to stop the bleeding from a nasty cut. It was unwise to use their own medicines and serums without knowing the physiology of this new world’s inhabitants. Forcing the Liberi and other Medics to rely on basic first aid techniques and the few local medical supplies that could be acquired.
A few children asked Silence if the feathers in her hair were real. The question sounded a little weird to her ears, especially since it was obvious they were sincere. “Simply put, those troops never had to face a situation where ‘the enemy is listening to our communications’ would seriously hinder their efforts. Add to it a consequential lack of experience operating independently and a very centralized chain of command...”
“That makes sense!” Maybe exclaimed, then peeked over her shoulder at Silence. “I didn’t know you were also an expert in military tactics.”
“I’m not. I just learned some useful knowledge while working with S—” Silence twitched, her work pausing for a split second before she hastily resumed it in an attempt to cover her pause. “—Rhodes Island...”
She shook her head, hastily clearing her thoughts. “I, ah, also take notes while watching battle records. You never know when something would be useful.”
“As expected of Doctor Silence! You’re a true Polymath!”
“Hardly.” she patted the man’s shoulder, who silently nodded back with gratitude, before moving to her next patient. Uhm, a lot of bruises but nothing life-threatening. “Mayer, have you finished yet? I know Magallan is skilled with her drones but we have to cover a whole district.”
“Almost done! Don’t worry, don’t worry.” the Anaty picked up an earpiece and moved it next to her ear. “Oh dear, a group of Britannians are attacking the relief station next to ours. Poor bastards.”
Silence stared at the Supporter with raised eyebrows. “That little sympathy for civilians?” She knew it to not be the case, but the Liberi could not come up with a reasonable explanation.
“Hm? Oh, no, I meant the Brittanians. That’s where Gavial is.” She turned on the loudspeaker, allowing those present to hear the sounds of screaming and bones breaking.
“THE ONE DAY, THE ONE DAY WHEN SOME IDIOTS ARE DUMBASS ENOUGH TO GET WITHIN GRABBING DISTANCE OF ME, AND YOU FUCKS TURN OUT TO BE SO CHICKENSHIT THAT I CAN BREAK YOU WITH MY TAIL TIED BEHIND MY BACK!? I’VE BEEN GYPPED! OH WHAT, AND NOW YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN!? LIKE HELL! YOU OWE ME BLOOD, AND I’M COLLECTING ENOUGH FOR WARFARIN! GET BACK HERE, DAMN IT!”
The Liberi, and everyone else present beside Mayer, winced. “I understand, but please change the channel. How is Ifrit doing?
The Anaty engineer’s expression fell flat as she clicked a button.
“HAHAHA! BURN, YOU WALKING BAGS OF TRASH! BUUURN!” Ifrit’s far too gleeful voice cackled maniacally. The ensuing FWOOSH of her literally infernal Arts igniting rang out in stereo with their source, located atop the roof of the building they were hiding in.
Silence pinched her eyes shut, trying to stave off the headache she felt mounting. “Nevermind. Just turn it off altogether.”
“I did. We’re hearing her through three whole stories.” Mayer suddenly sprouted a leer that redoubled the intensity of the medic’s migraine. “You know, I’m really starting to think that maybe Ifrit could benefit from somebody to talk with, to try and reign her in? You know, someone who’s strong, reliable, has a big pair of—!”
“Incoming.” Silence droned tonelessly.
VRRRRT! SMASH!
“—GWAH!”
Mayer was cut off by a certain gray quad-copter drone slamming cleanly into her face and bowling her over. Said drone flipped through the air for a moment before restabilizing and returning to dispensing what measures of aid it could.
“GAGH, YOU BIDCH!” Mayer howled, pointing a finger accusingly at Silence as her other hand pinched her nostrils shut. “YOU BROGE MY NOZE!”
“I said incoming.”
And just like that, Silence felt better.
“Daddy.” a child asked while he and his sister were huddling around the seated form of their father, the man’s right arm in a makeshift sling. “I’m scared...”
“Everything’s alright Kotaro, you and Saya are safe now. Just ignore the scary sounds, they can’t hurt you.” The man tried to reassure his son and daughter. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t feeling apprehensive at the moment, what with all this strange stuff and bizarre people popping up out of the blue.
But between staying in there with the people who were helping them and might be a threat to them... or go out there, with the people who were actively hunting them... Well, the choice was obvious.
“WHAT’S THIS?! ANOTHER TIN CAN COMING TO TRY AND CHALLENGE THE GREAT IFRIT? HATE TO TELL YOU, BUT YOU’RE A THOUSAND YEARS TOO EARLY!!” Ifrit’s cackling doubled in intensity, along with the heat of her Arts. It was followed by a sound that reminded the man of when, as a kid, he accidentally broke a mercury thermometer over a hot frying pan.
Yes, keeping his children away from the madness outside was definitely a good idea.
====
“Well, that’s disturbing.”
The Doctor looked up at Lelouch. “Do you mean Ifrit’s glee or Silence and Mayer’s lack of decorum?”
“Both... and another fact.” the raven-haired boy answered with a flat tone. His eyes darted to the side, tossing a quick glance at a list of Operators before focusing back on the Doctor. “Now, I’m the first one to say you shouldn’t judge a person by their appearance. And considering Terra has dozens of different races I will understand if you tell me some of them have a longer lifespan or just a slower physical development...”
With a swipe of his hand he brought up the profiles of three Operators: Suzuran, Vermeil and Popukar.
“But can I express my reasonable wariness to the apparent child soldiers?”
The Doctor winced, the upbeat mood he wore like a cloak suddenly absent. Kal'tsit's ever-present frown deepened, and Closure was staring at the screen a bit too intensely to be natural.
“...You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” the Doctor pulled hard at his coat, as if wishing to have something breakable on hand. “Circumstances vary from case to case, and if there was an alternative we would have taken it, but—”
“We did not break them. They came here already broken.” Kal'tsit interrupted as she walked over to face Lelouch directly, a coffee cup in her hand. She sounded like a jaded veteran who keeps moving forward only out of duty, and for all Lelouch knew she was one. “Vermeil lost everyone she knew at a young age and was forced to learn how to fend for herself. Details are classified. Popukar was taken advantage of by individuals I hope are now burning in hell. Details are extra-classified. And Suzuran...”
“Suzuran herself chose to become an Operator. She wanted to pay back Rhodes and would not take a ‘no’ for an answer.” the Doctor finished. “As did many others. They are just... among the youngest.”
“And you needed the help. Needed it to the point you could not afford to listen to your morals.” Lelouch deduced. “I would say it makes me wonder how dangerous Terra is, but regrettably Earth can also be a terrible place. And reality is rarely kind to people.”
The Doctor spread his arms, the slight shrug of his shoulders conveying frustrated acceptance rather than indifference. “Judge a man by the character of his enemies, and we’ve made a lot of them?”
The exiled prince raised an eyebrow, silently looking around the bridge before focusing back on the other man. “You’re a pharmaceutical company.” He could understand good deeds drawing a good amount of enemies, but there should be only a few valid reasons for someone to sabotage a company that sells medicines.
“And by the standards of Terra, a very successful one. It’s just that, weeeell...” the Doctor glanced upwards, scratching at the chin of his mask sheepishly. “Let’s just say that circumstances often saw us embroiled with very important, and violent, events.”
“A civil war, a revolution, a pseudo-war of succession...” Closure listed off. “And do you remember that guy who kept mining obsidian illegally and almost caused an eruption big enough to wipe out a whole city?”
The male ‘medic’ shuddered, his mask flashing a miserable XP. “Please don’t remind me of the giant, fire-shooting slug. I am not the only one who still has nightmares about it.”
‘Giant, fire-shooting slug?’ Lelouch mouthed in disbelief, suddenly feeling a peculiar mix of dread and curiosity.
“Let’s change the topic! Seriously, let’s do it!” the Doctor loudly clapped his hands a few times and looked at the raven-haired boy. “Lelouch, I’m grateful for the help and the insight into the Britannian Army, but you seem to be discontented about something. Want to talk about it?”
“So you noticed.” Lelouch grumbled, unhappy with the fact the Doctor was able to read him. Clearly he needed more training masking his thoughts, spending years among dumb and shallow people obviously made him rusty. That would not do. “Do you have Chess on Terra, or other types of strategy board games?”
He received a nod. “We do. I don’t play it, but there are more than a few Operators who do. I can introduce them if you want.”
“That would be nice, but later. The reason I bring it up is because I consider Chess not only a game, but a source of valuable lessons that can be applied to real life. One of the principles I try to live by is ‘If the king doesn’t lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow?’: while it’s hard to apply it to the King Piece due to the rules—”
But not impossible.
“—A true leader should lead by example. That means sharing both rewards and dangers with his subordinates.”
Lelouch gestured to the holotank.
“Giving orders from a safe place while other people risk their lives? It doesn’t sit well with me. At the very least I should be out there in the field with them, though I admit the current circumstances don’t allow for compromises. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“...That’s an admirable stance. One I wholeheartedly agree with and share.” a silly smiley face appeared on the Doctor’s visor. But even then, his tone was as honest as it could be. “Say Lelouch, would you like to become an Operator?”
That gave the exiled prince pause. “...Is that a job offer? Because I am not saying I am not interested, but I need details first.”
“Kind of. We provide adequate training to those who apply if they don’t have prior experience, and they can choose between being an active Operator or working in the logistic section. Most civilians choose the latter, though exceptions happen.” the masked man rubbed his chin. Then he spread his arms and shrugged his shoulders, a hint of self-deprecation entering his voice. “And some, like me, don’t have an ounce of talent for being an Operator. A less than average body and no attitude for Originium Arts. My mind is all I have. And while I myself also have a penchant for leading on the frontlines, in this instance and on a scale this extensive, I will reluctantly concede that Amiya is right and that I would be...”
His mask displayed a frown as he shrugged again. “Less than effective. And if this conflict continues to be on such extensive scales, then I’ll need to stay behind more... and someone will have to, as you so aptly put it, ‘lead from the front’.”
He lowered his arms. “So, if you want to contribute more and have the skills to do so? Then I want to give you a chance.”
Lelouch narrowed his eyes. Objectively speaking it was an appealing offer, and even if he hated physical activity the ability to replicate some of the feats he saw Operators perform... Well, that was something he definitely wanted. “I’ll think about it once things calm down.”
"Of course, take all the time you need. Oh, and before I forget.” the Doctor raised a finger. “You can refer to this as Chess all you like... but I must correct you on one thing.”
His hand suddenly lashed through the holotank, grabbing the front of Lelouch’s uniform and dragging him close. Through the mirrored glass of the Doctor’s visor, Lelouch saw his eyes burning bright. "On this board, every piece is a King. 100% survival rate, no less, and if you sacrifice even one person to bring us a step forward, if you intentionally put anyone in a grave... then you'll join them."
For a moment Lelouch was shaken to his core, the force of the other man’s personality washing through him—
“Big Brother?”
Before being violently pushed out and away. Lelouch grabbed the front of the Doctor’s coat and slammed their heads together, a snarl on his normally handsome face. “There is something I care so much for I'm willing to die for it. Do you think a promise like that scares me?”
“Last time an Operator under my care died, we ripped apart the full-scale military organization that led to her death in less than 24 hours,” the Doctor snarled right back, a bone-deep frigid fury lacing his every word. “It damn well better.”
Lelouch paused. Considered that.
And then... laughed.
It was such an unexpected response it gave even the emotionally invested Doctor pause. He didn’t notice both Closure and Kal'tsit pausing tensely at the sound that came out of the young man’s mouth. For unlike the Doctor they had many years of experience to guide them, and so they could tell. Could hear the difference.
Could hear that there was nothing sane within Lelouch’s laughter.
“Good!” Lelouch smiled, and anyone who knew both the young Charles zi Britannia and Marianne Lamperouge would say the resemblance was terrifying. “That makes me want to be your ally even more! Let's do it then: a board where everyone is the King, and sacrifice is not an option. Show me how it's done... Doctor."
An empty coffee cup bounced off the Doctor’s helmet, followed by an eraser doing the same with Lelouch’s head.
“How about both you idiots show me you’re halfway competent in the first place by focusing on the warzone in front of us. Idiots.” Kal'tsit shouted. Why did the Doctor have to recruit all the crazy ones? Troublesome man. And now a troublesome boy to go along with him. Just perfect.
Feeling just a little bit of shame both men let go of each other, though that didn’t stop Lelouch from glaring at the back of Kal'tsit's head. “And what's she been doing until now?”
“Directing our wetworks division to slaughter their officers in the field.” the Doctor replied, his mask flashing a wry smirk as he dragged his thumb across his own neck. “Their chain of command is more of a garotte right now.”
"Wetwo—what sort of a pharmaceutical company are you!?"
"A very proactive one!"
It began, like all worthwhile relationships, with a bumpy start and lots of screaming.
====
“I have so many questions.”
Ohgi was glad no one was listening, because the idea of saying those words in front of everyone was enough to make him cringe.
“Ohgi! On your left!” Kallen warned him.
“I’m on it!” He made his Knightmare steer to the side and fired his rifle in the direction pointed by Kallen, blowing off one arm of the enemy Frame and severely damaging the chest.
A Rhodes Island Operator then slammed a mace into one of the mechanical knees, crushing it like tinfoil, allowing a second one to cut both cockpit and the pilot inside in half.
Yes, Ohgi Kaname had many questions. At first they were reasonable ones like “who are those people helping us”, “where did they get all those Knightmares” and “it’s like they’re reading the Brits’ minds, cool”.
But then those strange people started destroying Frames with melee weapons, punching through armored plates with bows and blocking Knightmare-sized bullets with shields. Leading Ohgi to wonder when and how they drugged him.
But they were good. Hallucination or not, Rhodes Island was good. Their teamwork was excellent, proving they trained and fought together a lot in the past, and their strange abilities were more than a match for Knightmare Frame. Not to mention, though it was just a feeling on Ohgi’s part, they seemed to have a lot of experience conducting urban warfare against several waves of enemies.
Well, Ohgi was just an amateur in military matters. But you can’t survive as a resistance fighter in Area Eleven without picking up a lesson or two. The ex-teacher was sure Naoto would be able to read even deeper into it.
“Hey Blaze!” Kallen called out from her Glasgow. “Your weapon is releasing a lot of steam. Is that normal?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” the masked woman, whose tail Ohgi was reasonably certain by this point was real, waved her polearm-mounted chainsaw around like it weighed nothing. “I fight and the heat goes up. That’s just how it is. Don’t worry if you see me bleeding either, I just work hard like that!”
Standing on top of what once was a Gloucester of the Purist Faction, Blaze looked around and hummed in satisfaction. “By the way, fourteen.”
“...Twelve.” Kallen admitted with extreme reluctance.
“Ah! Sorry Red, but I’m in the lead!” she laughed. “Maybe I should start fighting with only one arm too? That would make things more fair!”
“I don’t need a handicap!” Kallen barked, ramming a new clip into her gun with more force than necessary. “And don’t call me Red!”
While Ohgi was glad Kallen is getting along with another girl (give or take a few years), he wasn’t sure it was a completely good thing.
“What the hell. Why is Kallen getting all chummy with someone who speaks like a Brit?” Tamaki complained on the radio, his Frame moving closer to Ohgi. The ex-teacher assumed the redhead was talking of Blaze’s accent, which he had to admit sounded vaguely Britannian.
Nevertheless... “Need I remind you that Kallen has the same accent?”
Ohgi scowled. She was living a double life as the heiress to a Britannian Noble family, something like that was inevitable. “You never complain about that.”
The redhead flinched. “That’s, that’s different. I trust Kallen.”
‘You’re also, rightfully, afraid of making her angry.’ Ohgi thought. “Then you can also trust Blaze and Rhodes Island, since they’re risking their necks to help us.”
“An excellent point.” someone said out loud. While they were distracted a Rhodes Operator moved in front of their Frames, a woman wearing a mask similar to Blaze and armed with a whip. She was staring straight at Tamaki’s Frame. “From one of you, anyways. I believe the other could benefit from some on-the-job training in regards to professionalism.”
Maybe it was just an impression, but Ohgi’s survival instincts were telling him that whip was not just for show.
“Aaah?” so of course Tamaki completely missed it. “Who the heck are you?!”
“Dobermann, drill instructor for Rhodes Island.” She answered.
“...Like the dog?”
Faster than the human eye can follow Dobermann landed atop Tamaki’s Frame, disturbingly close to the manual ejection release. Her whip was wrapped around the Sutherland’s head, where it dug through the metal plating. “Repeat that?” Her voice was like a sword through the guts, carrying the promise of absolute wrath that only a woman could make.
Ohgi felt absolutely no shame in leaving Tamaki to his well-deserved misfortune.
SMASH!
“Ha! Triple! That’s fifteen, eat it!”
“Oh, getting cocky, are we? Well, now I have to start getting serious!”
Now if only Ohgi weren’t heading into a heaping helping of misfortune all his own...
====
“Do you know what the worst part of this whole transdimensional fuckery is?” The Emperor, unchallenged Boss of Penguin Logistics, certified badass, rapper extraordinaire and many other well-earned titles spoke as he and his minions (because that was what they were, no matter how much Exusiai and Sora pointed out the details of their contracts) gathered together.
“We’ll probably never see our families ever again...” Bison lowered his head, sounding very disheartened. Cute kid, a little rough around the edges but with potential.
“We own our clothes, our weapons and nothing else.” Texas dispassionately pointed out.
Sadly for him, his fellow PL members were more down to earth in their worries.
“We’ll need to rebuild our network from scratch.” Exusiai mused, counting down on her fingers. "Resources, safehouses, connections...”
“My fans! I abandoned them! What kind of idol am I?!” Sora wailed, clutching her microphone in teary misery.
“My loot!” and Croissant was right there with her, sobbing into her own elbow. “My bank accounts! My money! Gone! All go-o-oooone!”
“All good, all good... but the final answer is rep.“ he raised an arm. Flipper. Whatever. “Here, nobody knows us. Nobody knows our names, nobody knows our faces, nobody knows who we are. Whatever we do next, it’ll be the first impression of us this whole planet’ll have. So... let’s make it a good one. Texas!”
“Boss?” The Lupo asked. She was the only one in the main seat and within reach of the commands.
The Emperor lowered his limb with a sharp gesture, the light of the sun ominously reflecting off the dark lens of his (quite frankly redundant) mask. “Drop the boot.”
“Dropping it. Hold onto your tails, halos and tailfeathers.”
“Wait. Do you even know how to drive this thing?” Bison asked in a hurry, for he already had a taste of Texas’ driving and was rightfully concerned.
The answer he got was delivered in a completely deadpan tone. Completely in character for Texas. “Of course. This accelerates, this steers.”
“What about brakes?!”
“You mean the buildings?”
“LET ME OFF THIS—!”
The Forte’s scream of despair was ignored as the pilfered Sutherland smashed through a line of buildings like the world’s most expensive battering ram, the rest of the, quote-unquote, delivery company hanging onto the mech’s chassis for dear life.
====
“Is that Emperor my eyes spy over there?” High Priest adjusted his glasses, squinting his eyes to look out of the truck’s open window. “I see he’s a fan of grandiose entrances as always.”
“Your old friend?” Eunectes asked, the Pythia leaning over the diminutive bird so as to better ogle the trail of smoking wreckage. “Does he like machines too?”
“Alas, his interest in machines is limited to how fast they can go. Why, I remember one of our little disadvantages: it was me, Emperor and a mob of angry people who wanted to tear off our hides and make underwear out of them.”
“Why underwear?” Grani asked, turning around on the front seat and straddling it.
“For maximum spite, I believe. It was all Emperor’s fault, not mine.” he ruffled his feathers. “So we were running, we found a car and he just up and said ‘Dude, I’ll hold them off. You make sure this baby gets us out of here faster than those guys' screams’. Honestly, I’m not a miracle worker!”
Eunectes smiled. High Priest always told the best stories. “Did the car explode?”
“Well yes, but not before we lost our pursuers. We were lucky enough to land in a river, but the current was quite strong and before it abated we ended up inside an Originium Slug Nest—”
“We’re arrived!” Bagpipe announced as she stopped the truck next to the train that contained the pilfered Sutherlands.
Eunectes wasted no time in jumping out. The train looked amazing too, she would be sure to check it later, but first—! “Where is it? Where is it?”
“Closure said they left it in the last car.”
Yet when the four walked to the end of the train, they found the car was empty, with fresh tracks suggesting something broke the restraints before leaving at full speed.
Right in the direction where the Penguin Logistics members were going wild.
“Ahahah!” Grani rubbed her head. “I guess nobody warned them?”
“Ahahah!” Bagpipe rubbed her head too. “More like somebody made the mistake of telling them, I’d guess!”
“Even better, now we can see it in action! Ooh! Look High Priest, it has legs!” Eunectes had stars in her eyes. “The Big Ugly was too heavy and needed tracks! And those wheels attached to the ankles? They’re using them to move around faster and better! So clever! Amazing!”
“They’re impressive alright; those Knightmare thingies could almost give Victorian armor a run for its money.” Bagpipe’s praise was completely honest, as was the regret that followed. “It’s a pity they’re used to oppress people...”
“Don’t remind me! What a waste...” High Priest watched as the Frame hijacked by Penguin Logistics used its Slash Harkens to rapidly whip it into a hard right. “Claw-like projectiles tied to cables strong enough to handle their weight, that can be pulled back... I see, I see: they’re not just for attacking, but by anchoring them in an object and retracting the cable they can be used for high-speed maneuvering too. Fascinating!”
He then raised a brow as the Knightmare frame plowed into—and through—yet another building.
“Though, perhaps, more impressive with proper driving...”
====
The pitch of Bison’s voice reached even greater heights, making even Sora a little jealous, as Texas used the slash harkens to run up a wall and then further accelerated with the landspinners. Steering to the side before reaching the apex flung the Frame away from the building and sent it soaring above the battlefield.
“Croissant! Melee!” Emperor crowed, jabbing his limb ‘up’ at the enemy ‘below’ them.
“THUNDERCLAP!” Croissant roared in acknowledgement, taking full advantage of their position as she took a flying leap and caved in an enemy Knightmare Frame’s torso, before leaping back onto the pilfered ride as it landed.
Every Britannian immediately began to fire at Penguin Logistics, their bodies faster than their short-circuited brains, as they tried to end the alien threat.
“Bison! Defense!”
“Why do you drag me into this madness!” Bison demanded, even as he deployed his shield and put to use every single bit of his skills as a Defender to block the hits. At least it left him too busy to panic.
"Exusiai! Ranged!”
“Heaven's will!” Wings made of literal guns spread open on both sides of Exusiai as the Sankta let loose the blessed barrages that earned Laterano its reputation. The Originium-infused bullets, boosted by the Arts of one-in-a-century genius, cut through armor and bodies like a scythe through wheat.
“Wow. You guys are really holding nothing back, uh?” Mostima whistled.
“Mostima?!” Exusiai yelped, dropping out of her Overloaded mode as she boggled at the blue-haired... person who’d materialized at her shoulder. “Since when were you here?”
“A turn or two back, I think? Honestly, I was just passing through.” the laidback messenger calmly replied before raising one of her staffs. Energy gathering around it. “And since I don’t really want to get shot at, I may as well give you a hand.”
“Indeed! Mostima!” Emperor crossed his wings(?) and nodded, light glinting off his shades. “Artillery!”
“Aye-aye, bo—woah!” the promised ‘artillery’ was delayed when the Frame suddenly started driving in reverse, though it dodged a rocket in doing so. “Woah! What gives?!”
“Uhm, wrong pedal. Probably.” Their driver blandly informed them.
“Well then turn us back around!” Emperor barked, stomping his webbed foot on the mech’s cockpit. “I wanna give these guys a good look at the new chart-toppers on this world! They deserve the honor of knowing my face before I go platinum again!”
“Roger. Hold on.”
Texas promptly corrected and made a u-turn.
Though she did not end the reverse.
“Let me off this thiiiiing!”
====
“...You know, my mother was one of the first people to drive a Knightmare, as well as one of the best pilots of her generation.” Lelouch spoke slowly and calmly, his eye twitching furiously as he stared at... whatever the hell he was watching on the screen before him. “She piloted them in ways I haven’t seen them used since. And that was back when they were half the size and a quarter as maneuverable. Her skill was unparalleled.”
KRA-KOOM!
“Emphasis on ‘was’.”
“Eheh...” the Doctor’s mask sprouted a sizable digital sweatdrop as he scratched his cheek. “Penguin Logistics has that effect, yes.”
Kal'tsit listened to something through her headset before taking it off and looking over her shoulders. “Leave the mad bird to his ravings, we have more pressing issues. The Britannians are calling reinforcements from everywhere nearby. They’re practically stripping the surrounding bases bare.”
“Ooh...? Is that your move, Clovis?” smirking sadistically Lelouch looked over the current state of the battle. “A poor one.”
“They are very desperate to win.” the Doctor surmised, tilting his helmet in confusion. “Why? At this point, a strategical retreat would be more sensible.”
“In any other situation. But not this one. The Viceroy needs to win and destroy all evidence. Failing to do so would get the OSI, an intelligence agency that answers only to the Britannian Emperor, looking into his affairs.” Lelouch explained. “A defeat and human experimentation? That’s ground for execution, at minimum.”
The Doctor’s head slowly turned to stare at Lelouch. “...Didn’t you say the Viceroy is the Britannian Emperor’s son?”
“The Third Prince... out of well over a dozen siblings. And that tells you everything you need to know about him. It’s not a matter of losing reputation, it’s the simple fact that even a single failure makes you worthless trash.” Lelouch’s hands clenched as he remembered his own experience with that man’s policies. “Based on what I’ve seen until now, there is a high chance the enemy will try to turn the battle around with a massive cavalry charge.”
“A cavalry... With Knightmares?” the Doctor looked at the data shown on the holotank. “Crude but effective. Also, highly reckless.”
“It’s the cornerstone of Britannia’s military doctrine. And they’re often too prideful to consider an alternative to overwhelming force. Clovis especially.” Lelouch rubbed his chin as he considered the battlefield, and came to a single conclusion. “How good is Rhodes Island at urban point-defense tactics?”
The flat -_- on the Doctor’s mask clearly showed it wasn’t a question asked often, if at all. “...Let’s say ‘very’, and everyone will stand witness it’s an understatement.”
Kal'tsit and Closure raised a hand. One of the monitors under PRTS’s control also showed a raised hand.
Lelouch smiled frigidly. “Then I can’t wait to witness your prowess.”
“Hmph. Not a problem.” the Doctor crossed his arms and nodded proudly. “It’s a big army, but so long as there aren’t any Leaders we’ll be fine.”
====
“Good news Kururugi!” Lloyd loudly exclaimed with a jovial tone that contrasted with the general atmosphere. “His Highness authorized the Lancelot’s use! Your role is to spearhead the next assault while the rest of the army follows behind!”
“Lloyd!” Cécile protested. “It’s basically a suicide mission! We can’t send Suzaku!”
“It’s alright Miss Croomy, I don’t mind.” Suzaku, who was already inside the Lancelot’s cockpit, answered. “I’ll do it.”
“See Cécile? Kururugi agrees!” the smile vanished from Llyod’s face as he loomed over the screen. “Of course, you’re not allowed to damage my precious baby, Private. So fight as much as you can, collect data and, more importantly, prioritize the Lancelot's wellbeing above all else. I‘ve heard a lot of unsettling rumors about ‘odd opponents’ and ‘mass destruction’... more data is always good, but with so many unknowns you need to be extra careful. There’s no telling what might happen to my masterpiece if you aren’t!”
Suzaku’s fervent “Yes, my Lord!” drowned out Cécile’s indignant “Lloyd!”.
“Great!” the scientist went back to smiling. “Well then, it’s time for the first activation.”
Cécile reluctantly took her place at the console. “First activation. Beginning from phase twenty.”
The Energy Filler was installed into the Seventh Generation Knightmare Frame. Afterwards Suzaku inserted the activation key.
“Man-Machine Interface link up confirmed.”
“Yggdrasil Drive status confirmed.”
“Rejection response is minimal. Devicer stress response is minimal.”
“Status: All green.”
As the Lancelot fully woke up the machine took a sprinting start's position, legs spread apart and right hand touching the ground. The remaining cables were ejected and the Landspinners deployed.
“M.E. Boost.” Suzaku muttered. His next words were a shout.
“Lancelot, launch!”