Kintsugi - Chapter 3: Shot

“Do you know what really boggles the mind?”

Sharp, Guard Operator of Rhodes Island and veteran of many battles, raised his head to stare at the back of Stormeye. Their group were catching their breaths after running around the vast battlefield to patch holes in their defensive lines, but even if they were fresh out of cryosleep a minute or two was all they needed. To hear their Sniper talk informally, then, was unusual. “Enlighten me.”

With a small movement of his head Stormeye gestured to the city beyond the entrance to the small alleyway they were using as cover. “A city this large, and it’s not mobile.”

“Siesta was the same.” Pith muttered under her breath, only loud enough to be heard by those sitting shoulder to shoulder with her. The Caster never raised her voice if she could help it, but knew how to convey her thoughts with just a few words.

“He means all cities are like this, not just a few.” Touch told the other woman, the Medic fixing her scarf so it doesn’t pull at her mouth-mic. No matter if it was cold or hot, she always took the ‘Anti-Originium Exposure’ rules very seriously. “A world without Catastrophes...”

“I’ll believe it when I see it with my own eyes.” Hope was a rare resource, so Sharp used it with care. He stood up. “Now though? We have child-killers to deal with. Rest’s over!”

With grim but determined expressions the group of four Rhodes Island’s veteran Operators, some of them old enough to have fought during the Kazdel Civil War when Rhodes was still Babel, leaped back to their feet and rejoined the battle.

Sharp listened to the radio before barking an ‘affirmative!’. “Left, left, right: hit hard and fast!”

Nodding in silent confirmation the Sniper prepared two arrows to be shot at once, while the Caster gathered energy around her staff. The moment they rounded the last corner the scene ahead spread out before them like a frozen tableau. Nothing moved; not the Knightmare Frames, not the Britannian soldiers, not even the dust choking the air. The enemy army was moving through a main road, with the giant robots advancing first on two parallel lines and the rest following behind them. The first two Frames had their rifles pointed ahead, one of their Factspheres frozen in the act of closing, while those behind them were guarding their flanks. The human soldiers were marching on all four sides of the tanks, forming a cordon of separation that allowed the war machines to use their ranged weapons without being swarmed.

One of the Sutherlands was facing the alley the Rhodesian group just came out of, but the barrel of its weapon was pointed above their heads. Before they could lose the momentum of their entry Pith shot out a blast of explosive Originium Arts, aiming at the machine’s weak points provided by the Doctor’s new allies. At the same time Stormeye let loose a rain of arrows, hitting the soldiers in the gaps presented by the chest armor.

Sharp shot ahead, sword leaping out of its scabbard as he momentarily sacrificed his defense for a boost in attack power. His own Arts turned the blade invisible, a simple trick that nonetheless granted him a noticeable edge on the battlefield. He swung his sword in several sweeping arcs, severing the closest tank’s tracks before doing the same with the Knightmares’ legs: rather than completely destroying them, it was faster and more efficient to simply make them unable to move.

“Up! Spin! Go!” Sharp shouted, wasting precious oxygen to issue an order that would, nonetheless, allow his group’s survival. The four Operators charged ahead, punching through the Britannian column while Touch used her Medical Arts to immediately heal any wound they suffered. Many enemies hesitated to open fire, afraid of hitting their own allies, allowing the RI Operators to use one of the crippled tanks as a springboard and leap into an abandoned shop on the other side of the road.

Sharp smashed through the cracked glass window, using his shield to protect himself from the shards. The others followed after him, with Pith using an Arts blast she kept in reserve to cover their retreats.

Stormeye shoulder-charged the door on the back at the same time the rest of the Shinjuku Resistance attacked the distracted Britannians, earning the four Operators enough time to cross the building and emerge from the other side.

Pith clicked her tongue. “How many people do they have?”

“Almost enough.” Sharp replied, hinting they must be ready to give their very best. Another short transmission came through the radio, immediately recalling them to action.

However, they barely had time to join up with one of the Resistance-piloted Sutherlands when a white blur suddenly raced towards them. Despite possessing eyesight befitting a Sniper Stormeye was unable to pick up the details due to the blur zig-zagging like an angry bee, until it abruptly stopped in front of the Stutherland and sent its head flying.

The white blur turned out to be another Knightmare Frame, though it was more streamlined and human-like compared to the others he saw so far. Mainly white with golden highlights, it almost looked like a knight wearing armor... but unlike the warriors of Kazimierz its appearance just screamed ‘danger’.

Stormeye and Pith didn’t stop trying to make sense of what they were seeing: they just unleashed their most powerful attacks at the new enemy, with Sharp moving in front of them with his shield raised and Touch taking cover behind.

The white Knightmare raised one arm, a green light flashing from its gauntlet and forming a shield that blocked both the arrows and the Art blasts. The machine seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before crouching down and speeding towards the four Operators, using the shield to ram into them and send the members rolling like bowling pins.

“Fucking-!” Stormeye scrambled back to his bow, but by the time he recovered it the white Knightmare was nowhere to be seen. “What was that?”

“An ace in the hole, I assume.” Touch rubbed her poor horns. “The Sutherland’s pilot?”

Sharp looked at the headless robot. “They ejected. No sense looking for them.”

The whirling of wheels announced the arrival of several Britannia-aligned Knightmares, the usual rifles replaced with grenade launchers. The pilots evidently learned from the unglamorous ends of their predecessors, because they immediately opened fire without even a single racist insult. Sharp prepared himself to a gory death, wondering if he could tank enough grenades to allow some members of his group to escape—

“For light!” And then the best sight a Rhodes Island’s Operator could wish for landed in front of them, interlocked shields of sparkling light weathering several explosions without even a single crack.

“Fall back to the rally point!” Nearl looked behind her shoulders at her fellow Operators, Shining’s own Arts reinforcing the barrier currently blocking the full might of a Britannian division. “The situation changed!”

“Yes sir!” Sharp obeyed, offering a silent nod of gratitude to the white-horned Sarkaz before helping the rest of his group evacuating.

He had the feeling their very best was not enough anymore.

====​

“Doctor! Our formation has been broken!” Nearl’s slightly worried voice came through the radio. “We’re falling back to regroup!”

“Roger that. Good luck Nearl.” The Doctor replied before ending the transmission. Never once did his eyes stray from the data displayed by the holotank. He couldn’t afford to.

“Speak of the devil, and he will rip through your frontlines at Mach-1. Why do I say things?”

The three-dimensional representation of the battlefield was lighting up like a Christmas tree with emergency calls, priority messages and the red dots of enemy units pouring through the gaps in their formations. If before they were holding strong and inching closer to victory, now they had to quickly find a solution or see all of their efforts go up in smoke.

Lelouch didn’t say a word in reply, too busy analyzing the video links showing the mysterious new Knightmare in action. It was unlike anything he ever saw or read about, and the black-haired boy made sure to always keep himself updated on the developments within Britannia’s military. The white robot was defying all existing paradigms about what Knightmare Frame should be able to do. It moved too fast, too skillfully; it used Slash Harkens in a way that looked like they belonged in a cartoon, not reality; and those energy shields... Lelouch had no idea how they worked, but they were surely cutting-edge technology.

On the screen the white Knightmare jumped in the air like it was a world-class athlete and not a several tons heavy war machine, spinning to gather momentum before kicking the upper torso of a Sutherland. Utterly crushing it.

Luckily Lelouch already saw seemingly physics-defying feats thanks to the Operators of Rhodes Island, and had time to come to terms with them. It allowed him to retain a cool mind even in the face of this new variable on the battlefield. ‘A new piece enters the board, and once again the rules change.’ He accepted the Doctor’s challenge to treat every single person as the King, true, but Lelouch wasn’t about to drop his use of chess metaphors just because of that. First, he really liked the game; and second, it helped him relax. Very few people can do their best under heavy pressure, and for Lelouch at the moment it was not a gamble worth taking.

“If there is a field of research that is never lacking for funds within Britannia, it’s Military R&D.” The exiled prince said with what he judged an acceptable amount of calm, his arms a blur as he worked in concert with the Doctor to organize an appropriate response to the emergency. That lone unit was disrupting their forces one by one, and their frontlines were collapsing under the weight of Britannia's reinforcements and rallied assault. “There are online forums discussing the theoretical future development of Knightmare Frames. This White Knight fails to meet some expectations... and utterly blows through the rest of them. We may be looking at a super-prototype, maybe the fabled Seventh Generation.”

“White Knight? A name as good as any.” the Doctor grumbled, his visor displaying two downward arrowheads of concentration. “Any idea of what we can expect?”

“Nothing that we aren’t already seeing: physical specs are through the roof, powerful shields that doesn’t slow it down... and I dare say the pilot’s aptitude for piloting Knightmares is firmly in the upper grade. Maybe even on par with a Knight of the Round, a group of elite pilots serving directly under the Britannian Emperor.” Money and pedigree may be worth more than talent within the modern Britannia, but the members of that ancient group were some of the few exceptions: nobody becomes a Knight of the Round unless they completely and utterly deserve it. Not even the Emperor was willing to break those honored standards passed down through many generations.

Lelouch frowned: while the White Knight’s advance continued unimpeded, he and the Doctor were able to work around it to some extent. It helped that the urban battlefield still heavily favored the RI Operators, and the priority to Medics issued at the start meant that, beside Knightmares, every single one of their assets could fight for a long time. “The only weakness seems to be a lack of long-ranged weapons. High energy consumption may also be a factor, but it probably uses a special Energy Filler.”

He paused as a realization hit him. “Considering its agility the armor shouldn’t be much stronger than normal Knightmares. Maybe even slightly lower. If we can surround and pin it in place—”

“Doable. The problem is that we don’t have the Operators to spare for it!” The Doctor clenched his hand. Lelouch could almost feel massive gears working inside the man’s mind as he considered a decision of extreme importance. “Kal'tsit?”

The feline doctor didn’t even turn around. “I’m busy.” She replied brusquely.

“Go wake up Nian.”

That got her attention: she spun around on her swivel chair, fixing the Doctor with a look that made it clear she wanted to declare him utterly insane. Even Closure was staring. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll deal with the consequences after we survive this. It’s not like we can keep her and Dusk sleeping forever.” his shoulder sagged. “Kal'tsit, please.”

“...You deal with her.” The feline doctor issued a few short instructions through the radio, then stood up and quickly walked out of the bridge.

Lelouch raised an eyebrow: there were many things he could assume from the recent interaction, chief among them that this Nian woman (the name sounded Chinese) was a delicate topic. “An elite Operator?”

“A force of nature, but one we’ll need. The problem is that she’s a vagabond who stays at Rhodes Island for only a few weeks every year: she likes us, but her wanderlust is strong.” the Doctor scratched the back of his neck. “The only reason I can see her changing habits is that her sister Dusk is also working as an Operator for us. On the surface they often quarrel, but they really care about each other.”

Lelouch knew very well how deep a sibling’s bond could run. Not that he ever bickered with Nunnally... alright, once or twice when they still lived at Aries Villa. They were children, and he definitely looked gross with make-up! “Is Dusk as strong as her sister?”

If they have difficult personalities then it was for the best the Doctor already planned to personally deal with them: Lelouch had troubles with people that put their whims over reason.

“The impression is that. The problem is that Dusk’s lazy and spends all her time painting within her own quarters.” the Doctor shrugged. “Do you know the saying ‘unskilled but strong’? That’s Dusk in a nutshell.”

...He was going to stay far away from those two sisters. Maybe observe them once or twice from a safe distance, to sate his morbid curiosity.

Those idle thoughts were shoved to the side and promptly forgotten when the Doctor froze in the middle of reading the data, a '> : (' appearing on his mask. “Not there!”

Lelouch immediately understood what the other man was talking about: the White Knight was heading straight for one of their evacuation checkpoints. A more cynical part of Lelouch’s mind pointed out it would give a respite to other, more critical areas. He promptly beat it back with an imaginary stick, replying that he absolutely would not sink on the same level as the Britannians and willingly sacrifice civilians for his goals.

But if it happened... then it happened. He would not shy away from salvaging the salvageable from a bad situation. He looted dead bodies and abandoned buildings during the War, this was not much different.

On the outside Lelouch gave no sign of his internal turmoil. “Can we finish the evac in time?”

“Negative, but that’s not the problem.” the Doctor shook his head and opened a comm channel with a specific Operator. “Saria! Find someone to replace you and go to Silence’s evac point! Ifrit and her are in danger!”

When the strategist of Rhodes Island looked up Lelouch could almost see the man’s eyes through the dark glass despite the distance, such was the intensity of his current feelings. “The White Knight is going down. There.”

The amethyst-eyed teen was in complete agreement. The reason was not important at the moment, he wouldn’t complain about his allies being highly motivated.

====
​

Today was a great day for Ifrit.

She didn’t give a single damn about the whole of Rhodes being lost in whatchamacallit, not why they were fighting those people with the big tin can toys beside them being the bad guys. Saria and Silence were here with her, so all was well.

‘Course, she would like it a little more if she could join where the fighting was at its thickest instead of guarding a random-ass building. But Silence was inside, helping people hurt by the bad guys, and she trusted Ifrit to keep everyone safe. She trusted her! No way Ifrit was going to disappoint Silence, absolutely no way!

Her chest puffed out with pride the fire-wielding Sarkaz looked down at the street below, making sure no punk would be so brazen as to try to sneak past her. Noticing movements in the corner of her eyes Ifrit saw two men carrying a bandaged woman on a makeshift stretcher. She knew they were helping Silence moving those that couldn’t walk out of the battlefield, so it was no concern of her.

Burn them.

She scowled, good mood evaporating like Ursus snow under her Arts. “Shut up.”

Burn them. The voice in her head repeated. The words were less sound and more flames forcefully shaped into something understandable for humans. Burn everything. Burn it all.

“I said shut up!” Ifrit shouted, pulling away from the edge to stare at the horizon. “I told you already Blimp: I set on fire only what I want to set on fire! Nothing else! You can’t force me to burn anymore!”

Eventually, everything will burn. The world shall end in fire.

“Maybe, but I sure as hell will not be the one to start it!” She snorted. The damn thing couldn’t force her to do something, not anymore, unless she let it.

It was a pyromaniac Blimp, but it was her pyromaniac Blimp damn it! She was the one in control, no matter how much sure of itself it always sounded.

It was then that Ifrit noticed a new tin can approaching the building. It was white, and looked just a tiny little cooler than the others.

“I burn what I want, Blimp.” Ifrit repeated once again, aiming the muzzle of her flamethrower at the white thing. Technically it was a wand, but she was a Super Caster so she was allowed to name her stuff however she wanted. “Like that thing!”

She shot a jet of fire straight at the white tin can, powerful enough to melt it into slag just like its predecessors. Ifrit saw the machine raising its head in the blast’s direction before the attack hit it dead-on, detonating with the force of a volcanic eruption. Like what almost happened in Siesta.

She liked Siesta. Who knew cooking barbeque was so damn fun? Maybe, once this was over, she’ll ask Matterhorn for a new sauce’s recipe and cook for Silence and Sa—

The white tin can came out of the fire without a single scratch, a couple of green shields on the arms protecting it.

To say Ifrit was stunned was an understatement. Nobody, nobody ever took one of her blasts head-on and came out smelling like roses! Even that bitch Talulah, who Ifrit grudgingly admitted came close to her own mastery of fire, didn’t dare do it!

“I said BURN!” She screamed, sending out more jets of fire to incinerate the damn eyesore.

The white machine, against all odds, continued to effortlessly dodge or block all of her attacks. Even the Blimp was at a loss for words!

As fast as it came Ifrit’s anger went away, replaced by a terrible calm. The Blimp seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what the Sarkaz girl would do.

Slowly, as if moving through molasses, Ifrit put a foot on the edge of the roof and leaned slightly forward. She reached to her communicator and turned it on: the device was linked to a single frequency, so she needed to flip a switch. “Silence. Take everyone and go.”

She heard the Liberi gasp in alarm. Trust Silence to immediately understand what was going through the Sarkaz’s mind: that was one of the many reasons Ifrit trusted her unconditionally. “What?! No, you need to—!”

“I SAID GO!” Ifrit screamed. She immediately regretted it, shame and the old but never gone fear of being all alone squeezing her heart until she felt like crying, but she couldn’t falter. Not now, not here. “Please, Silence. Go.”

“No no no you can’t-Mayer what are—!?” There was a soft ‘thud!’, suggesting Silence’s communicator dropped and hit the floor. In the background Ifrit could hear Mayer and the other Operators present forcing Silence out, so she hanged up.

Meanwhile the white tin can had slowed down, as if confused by the sudden lack of fiery death thrown its way. Which suited Ifrit just fine.

“...Hey, Blimp? I’ve changed my mind.”

Her hand landed on the pressure valve of her flamethrower.

"Let's burn it all."

And threw it wide.

The Blimp laughed and laughed and laughed. For while it wanted Ifrit to burn everything, it would never go against or hinder her. And if she wanted something to burn? Then the Blimp would not stop until said something burned.

"SCORCHED EARTH!"

In that moment Ifrit brought Hell on Earth, as a demon of flame scorched the heavens around her.

====​

Within the Lancelot’s cockpit every single alarm of the main systems was screaming, telling Suzaku to do something. Thing is, he wasn’t sure what he, Lloyd or anyone else could do.

The Blaze Luminous was, well, blazing luminously as more and more energy was diverted to the energy shields protecting the prototype Knightmare. The only thing, he suspected, that was stopping the Lancelot from turning into a puddle of molten metal.

When someone first started shooting blasts of pressurized fire at him Suzaku thought the enemy merely had a Knightmare-sized flamethrower or something similar. His factspheres saw nothing in the supposed point of origin, despite the fact a weapon that big could not be easily hidden, but Suzaku assumed he just needed to come closer and stop them before they set fire on the whole ghetto.

He did not expect a giant horned demon, like something taken straight from Western tales about Hell. Suzaku could see it clearly despite the fact visibility was zero, towering even above Knightmare Frames and seemingly commanding the sea of fire with nothing but its will. The demon’s eyes were blazing pits staring straight at the Lancelot, as if declaring its intent to rip out Suzaku’s soul and drag it to an eternity of torment.

Suzaku wasn’t against it. He knew better than anyone else that he deserved to suffer within Jigoku, Yomi-no-Kumi or whatever afterlife was reserved to traitors like him... But not yet. He was just given power after years of being powerless, he couldn’t die until he stopped the bloodshed within Shinjuku at least.

He couldn’t die without saving at least one person!

Confused but determined, and steadfastly ignoring Lloyd and Cécile’s voices in the background, Suzaku forced the Lancelot to move. Forcing his way through the waves of flames slamming into his shields, step-by-step and meter by meter. If he could land at least one hit on the demon, then surely... surely...

The more the Lancelot advanced the more the demon grew enraged at its defiance, sending stronger and stronger waves. Yet as it did so the creature slowly shrunk, as if consuming its very essence, until the demon was barely two meters tall.

It suited Suzaku just fine, since now he was certain a punch from the Lancelot was enough to... knock out the demon? Exorcise it? Anything was fine as long as it just stopped endangering people!

The Lancelot waited for an ebb in the waves of fire before cocking back an arm and throwing a mighty jab at the demon. Not exactly a move from the Japanese martial arts he learned (in another time, another life) but right now Suzaku needed power over form.

The fist shot forwards, punching through the demon’s chest... and hit resistance? Did it mean the creature was solid only below the skin, or did—

The Lancelot shuddered to a halt, the joints locking up hard. Did he push it too hard? The Frame was still a prototype after all, or maybe the intense heat melted the joints and oh God Lloyd was going to kill him!

Suzaku’s right hand flew off the control and activated every single information-gathering system that was mentioned in the Lancelot’s manual, praying to all gods still willing to listen to his pleas that Lloyd’s love for his creation was big enough (he called it his ‘precious baby’, and the look in his eyes when he talked about it made a small part of Suzaku shudders) he spent a large amount of time and resources shielding the knightmare from all manners of problems.

Yggdrasil Drive working as intended, Blaze Luminous’ circuits incredibly stressed but still operational, Energy Filler drained by all the fighting but there was enough juice left, the factspheres on the shoulders... What?

The brown-haired Japanese boy stared at the black “X”s floating around the Lancelot. They looked solid, but the scan was unable to tell him what they were made of beside some kind of metamorphic rock, or how they were suspended in midair. The majority was gathered around the Lancelot’s limbs, as if supporting a web of invisible strings keeping the knightmare restrained.

‘The flames are gone.’ Suzaku realized after a moment, finally noticing visibility was back. He could see his Frame’s extended fist, not stabbed through the flame demon’s chest but locked against a shield. And not one of those big shields used by some Knightmares, but a normal riot shield held by a very tall woman with horns curving around the gas mask covering her face.

He wasn’t completely unaware of the new fashion style popular among youths, and while he liked to see it as a sign Britannians and Japanese can get along... a part of him acknowledged it was a trend that only rich people with not enough common sense could indulge in.

Then his brain rebooted, and he realized the absurdity of a human being stopping a Knightmare’s fist with a shield. Sure he saw a lot of those ‘odd opponents’ Lloyd mentioned, but Suzaku rationalized them as special forces armed with easily concealed weapons. Not even he, who trained under Tohdoh-sensei (they may have disagreed on many things but the man was an amazing teacher) could do it without turning into a red smear. Was she the one behind the black “X”s, slowing down the Lancelot until it was safe to block its fist?

Suzaku looked at the mysterious woman through the camera, trying to find some identifying feature in her peculiar uniform or some hint to explain the series of bizarre events that befell him. Both her clothes and shield had a black “x” motif, which reinforced his suspicions, and her other hand was holding a gun, no a syringe? It looked similar to those construction tools used to spray quickly-hardening foam—

There was someone behind her. Shielded by the mysterious woman was a girl (not tall enough to be an adult, body proportions not yet fully developed) with horns, who was being cradled by a second woman with feathers in her hair. They all wore masks but the girl looked utterly exhausted and the woman with feathers was fretting all over her.

...Where was the flame demon?

There was a crackling sound coming from the mics, which almost immediately transitioned into coherent words spoken by a deep and mature female voice: “-finish evacuating the civilians.”

Suzaku was staring straight at the trio with frightening intensity, so there was no way he missed the horned woman looking behind her shoulder at the same time as those words were uttered. Nor the way the woman with feathers in her hair briefly looked up before focusing back on the girl in her arms, shoulders shaking as if releasing a disquiet grunt.

Apparently taking that as agreement the horned woman shoved her shield back with enough strength to move the Lancelot, the black “X”s shattering and releasing the Frame. Suzaku could have used the chance to attack: instead he made the Lancelot stumble back, mind too overcome by horror at what he almost just did.

Finish evacuating the civilians.

Finish evacuating the civilians.

There were civilians in the building. He was about to attack a building full of civilians. Why were terrorists helping civilians?

And why wouldn’t they? The terrorists are Japanese, the people that live in the ghetto are all Japanese. Why wouldn’t Japanese help their own? Did he fall so low as to believe those he fought to be all heartless monsters?

Where was the Britannian Army? Why weren’t they the ones to evacuate civilians?

When did he ever hear of a protocol to handle the evacuation of civilians while serving in the Britannian Army?

Oh God he was about to attack a building full of civilians!

“Suzaku! Suzaku!” Cécile’s frantic calls snapped the young man out of the fugue. Too bad they did nothing to placate the panic and guilt that were making thinking difficult. And was that Lloyd flailing like a madman behind her? “What’s happening there? The readings don’t make sense! Were you the target of a focused aerial bombings!? Command didn’t say anything about enemy aircraft!”

Command. Suzaku’s mind latched on to that word like a lifeline: he needed new orders, he couldn’t attack civilians, why was everyone fighting while there were still civilians around?! “Sorry Cécile-san I can’t talk now.” Without waiting for her reaction Suzaku switched to another channel, but only static greeted him.

He cursed in his native language: in his hurry he chose one of the wrong channels. Suzaku took a deep breath and forced his hand to stop shaking. It was easy: just input the identification code, hit the switch and ask to talk with the highest-ranked officer available right now. Eleven or not, he was part of the vanguard, he could—

Before the could switch channels the static disappeared, replaced by... a young girl’s voice? “Everyone, please fall back. I will handle the White Knight myself.”

White Knight? Was she talking about the Lancelot? Who- “Amiya, no! It’s too dangerous! You’re Rhodes’ leader, you can’t put yourself in jeopardy!”

And then it hit Suzaku: those people were speaking English, yes, but not with a Britannian accent. This was not the channel used by the army.

Did he stumble into the terrorists’ communications?

More importantly, their leader wanted to face him?

The Lancelot swirled around, every Factsphere opening and analyzing everything in sight. The two women and the girl were retreating and about to disappear inside the building, but right now they were the last of Suzaku’s concerns.

There. A new contact was advancing towards him on foot, coming from one of the contested zones. To Suzaku’s shock it was a girl shorter than himself, more or less the same age as the one with horns. Instead of a uniform or something similar she was wearing a sweater with a short skirt and black stockings, along with a hooded jacket that looked just a size too big for her. Her face was concealed by a gas mask, but Suzaku could still make out brown hair tied into a ponytail and, of all things, rabbits ears.

Or were they donkey ears?

Disregarding the frankly inane thought, the young man noticed the girl was unarmed. Or rather, it was better to say she looked unarmed.

That was the enemy leader? But no matter how unbelievable it sounded, no matter how skeptical he was, Suzaku couldn’t afford to dismiss the possibility. He couldn't afford to not act as if it was true.

Girl or not, it didn’t matter. She was the leader, which meant she was in charge.

Kill Arrest her and the bloodshed will stop.

Something in his chest began to hurt. He ignored it.

A distant part of his mind started to scream. He ignored it.

Suzaku Kururugi stopped thinking and just focused on making the Lancelot move.

====​

After a few moments of hesitation the mechanical giant started to move towards Amiya, quickly picking up speed as if planning to bullrush her.

The young leader of Rhodes Island came to an abrupt stop, putting a foot forward to reinforce her balance, and let loose with her Arts. Several bolts of dark energy flew out from her outstretched hand, some aimed at the Knightmare’s joints and the others fired to cut off possible escape routes. The Doctor and Lelouch -hatredgriefnotnownotnow- told her what to expect, so she knew that treating the White Knight like the other Frames she fought so far would be a grave mistake.

Predictably the machine deployed its energy shields, blocking her Arts while dodging out of the way. Those things took on Ifrit’s most powerful Arts and won. An incredible feat to be sure, but a shield can keep blocking attacks for only so long before it breaks: this is even more true when said shield requires energy from a finite source.

So Amiya fired her Arts. Again and again and again. She used every trick at her disposal, every technique she developed while training under Rhodes Island’s senior Operators. Unlike with bows and guns a Caster retains a small amount of control over their attacks, and that means she can change the direction of her energy bolts after she fires them.

The first time is a glancing blow that destroyed part of the shoulder’s armor when the White Knight prioritized protecting the legs. Next are the Slash Harkens, Amiya using two spinning energy blades to cut off the cables. That pulled the Knightmare off-balance, an opening Amiya capitalized on to blast the giant’s chest. It ripped off the surface armor, but the White Knight recovered immediately and continued its approach, now even more cautious.

“Amiya! It isn’t going to stop!” One of the Operators who, despite her protests, followed after her screamed. “Move!”

Move? Her? No.

She didn’t move before Patriot, no matter how much awe and terror he inspired, so she won’t move now. Not against something that was not even one tenth as scary as the ancient Wendigo.

That Knightmare will move first.

She prepared for one massive Spirit Burst, gathering all available power in one hand—

“NOT ON YOUR LIFE!”

And then nearly lost control of it when a red Knightmare side-tackled the white one, ramming both of them through a nearby building. There was a terrible sound of metal twisting and ripping itself apart as the limbs of both machines broke, together with the walls crumbling. Before the rubble could fall on them the red Knightmare’s cockpit ejected, soaring through the air before deploying chutes to land.

“Holy shit! Way to go Red!” Amiya blinked as Blaze landed next to her, the elite Operator having the time of her life despite looking like she went through a marathon or five. “Sorry for being late Amiya, looks like Red beat me up to it.”

“Don’t worry about it Blaze, I’m thankful you came.” Amiya replied with a small smile. She said she would handle the White Knight herself, but having the fiery Operator by her side was reassuring.

The smile on the young Cautus’ lips turned into a frown when she caught sight of the rubble under which the white machine was buried shifting. She thought the pilot would have ejected by now, there is no way the damage wasn’t crippling... ah, of course. They were stuck.

“It’s not over yet.” She told the Feline, whose smile under the mask turned predatory. “Follow me.”

Together the two Rhodes Operators approached the partially collapsed building. Luckily it didn’t look like the remaining structure was too brittle, damage and age notwithstanding, but it required them to move with great caution.

The White Knight didn’t have such worries, the battered frame trying to escape its current bindings. One arm, still partially functional, managed to push away the rubble covering it.

Blaze swung her chainsaw at the less-protected joint, cutting through metal and artificial muscles with just a little resistance. One final push, aided by her own Arts, and the Feline completely severed the mechanical limb. Oddly enough, at that moment, Blaze could swear he heard someone wailing in the distance. She considered it before giving a mental shrug and going back to work: it was either her imagination or something carried by the wind, so too far away for her to interfere. She would just have to trust her fellow Operators.

Meanwhile Kallen, one side of her body still sore from when it hit the inner walls, left the cockpit after it landed and approached the building where he buried both her old but reliable Glasgow and the white frame. Mostly to confirm she didn’t sacrifice it for nothing, but also because she also caught the transmission and wanted to see what kind of person was Blaze’s leader.

The girl called Amiya... well, she honestly looked smaller than she truly was in those clothes and her height was roughly the same as Kallen, bunny ears notwithstanding. Almost definitely not Japanese, just like Blaze, but from what little she heard of her voice the accent wasn’t so easily identifiable. Not that Kallen was an expert in said field, but as a native Japanese she was confident about being able to identify those who weren’t.

“Are you hurt?” Amiya immediately asked after noticing Kallen, the mask’s eyes staring at the slack arm the redhead was holding close to her body. “Do you require medical attention?”

“Nah, I’m fine: nothing broken, at most it will leave a bruise.” And since Ashford Academy thought of her as a sickly girl she could just stay at home to recover without an elaborate excuse. Not that ‘home’ was something to be enjoyed for Kallen, but as long as she remained in her room she could ignore everything else. “Say, do you have a spare mask? My hair makes singling me out a little too easy.”

She would ignore it if there was no choice, but since Rhodes Island apparently had enough of them to supply all their people why not ask? Besides, Kallen didn’t fancy the Britannians taking a picture of her face and ruining her double life... not without Ohgi’s approval at least, she respected him that much.

“Yes, of course. I can send someone to pick-” Amiya abruptly fell silent, head whirling around to stare at the buried Knightmare and ears standing straight up.

Kallen blinked in confusion at the sight, especially the last part: she didn’t know fake animal ears could move in such a realistic way, though considering doctors who do the operation get paid handsomely the redhead was sure there was a constantly evolving market for extra options. Truly a waste of money only Britannians were capable of.

But that was secondary to the feeling Amiya was now giving off. Despite the mask concealing her face there was a great... intensity in the way the girl was staring at the Knightmare Blaze was dismembering, as if she could see something no one else could. Something of extreme importance, but not to be happy about. Kallen could be rude and direct at times, when she didn’t want to beat around the bush , but even she knew when to use some tact.

“Done!” Blaze shouted after the last limb was removed. Only the White Knight’s torso was left, with the cockpit laying on one side. The Feline made sure to also weld it shut with a blast of heat, lest the pilot escape, but oddly enough the cockpit didn’t seem to have the same ejection system of other Knightmares. Probably a new one less conspicuous, this thing was supposed to be a prototype after all.

She briefly considered just ramming her chainsaw’s blade through the cockpit... but no, she was no scumbag that kills people who cannot fight anymore. No matter how much the Britannians as a whole deserved it, she was better than that.

So Blaze did the proper thing and looked at her direct superior for instructions. “Amiya, what do I do about the pilot?”

The Cautus didn’t answer immediately, still staring at the white Knightmare. Then she slowly shook her head. “Leave them be.”

Kallen wanted to object, she really did. But something about Amiya was telling her the girl had a very good reason for doing so. And, well, Kallen owed Rhodes Island a great deal: sparing one or two Britannians, provided they weren’t a danger anymore, was a small piece to pay.

“As you say.” Blaze jumped down. Once back on the ground she gave a look at Kallen before bursting out laughing. “Red, is that you? You really are red after all!”

“I told you to not call me that!” The young woman protested. So what if both her hair and clothes (and now face) were red? It didn’t mean she wanted a color as a nickname! “Would you like it if I were to call you ‘Heat’?”

“Heat...? Yeah, that sounds fair!” The Feline laughed even more. “One embarrassing nickname for another.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Blaze, Miss Kallen.” Amiya was soft-spoken, yet both women stopped their verbal match to focus on her. “I’m sorry to ask even more of you, but please head to the main rally point. Reinforcements are on their way, we only need to hold the line for a little longer.”

“Sure, no problem. Just need to restock on some fuel and let Baby cool down before she melts.” Blaze gave her weapon’s engine a comforting pat for emphasis.

“’Baby'?” A grin blossomed on Kallen’s lips. “Seriously?”

“Well I’d call it ‘Darling’, but that’d just be sad.” The Feline answered without a single ounce of shame.

Despite the mask Kallen was reasonably sure Amiya was looking at Blaze the same way as her. “Yeah, right. That would be the sad one. I can still fight too, just need a weapon or a spare Knightmare if there is one.”

“I’ll be sure to spread the word, Miss Kallen. If nothing suitable is available please consult your friends.” Amiya nodded, then looked into the distance. “I... I’m needed elsewhere. A place where I can finish this once and for all.”

Well, that was both cryptic and reassuring.

====​

“That went better than I expected.” Lelouch allowed himself to release the breath he was holding. The White Knight’s energy shields proved extraordinarily effective, neutralizing both Ifrit’s flames and Amiya’s blasts. Luckily his assumption that a joint attack would work proved to be correct, even if he didn’t predict a Knightmare being used as a battering ram. It was just an old Glasgow anyway, a loss of little consequences.

“Mmh.” The Doctor hummed, one hand rubbing his chin in evident satisfaction. The exiled prince would go as far as to say he was preening. “Like always seeing Amiya in action is a sight to behold.”

“It was, if I may, also reckless.” Lelouch pointed out. Acceptable risks were one thing, but staying rooted on the spot while a Knightmare Frame was advancing towards you? “Since Amiya’s the Leader of Rhodes she should have at least a bodyguard or two.”

The Doctor rubbed his chin a few more times before dropping his hand. “Amiya is... she loathes putting other people’s lives at risk. Especially in the case of her own being prioritized over others.”

“...It is not my place to meddle, and you seem aware of the possible complications.” Lelouch diplomatically replied. He still didn’t have enough knowledge about or influence inside the organization to push his views, but what he pointed out was completely logical: within an organization the main leader was a critical asset, so they must be protected from death or harm. Moreover, him recognizing and respecting lines that shouldn’t be crossed is much more effective than stubbornly insisting his opinion is right.

So what if he was taking a page from Schneizel? His older brother was the most dangerous man in the world below the Emperor because he was that good.

Not that he was ever going to let Schneizel know about it, Lelouch still had his pride.

“No need to be so formal Lelouch, I appreciate people speaking their minds.” The Doctor waved a hand, a trace of mirth in his tone.

“You two having fun yet?” CC asked with just a hint of interest, despite the fact neither Lelouch nor the Doctor saw her getting close to them.

“Holy shit!”/“What the hell?!” Obviously, the only natural response from both men was to violently flinch away from the green-haired girl suddenly invading their personal space without a single warning.

CC raised a brow in amusement at the sight. She briefly looked down at the blade Red was holding to her neck -without lowering her chin- with something approaching respect before raising her eyes. “I have returned.” She laconically stated.

“I saw. Where were you all this time?” Lelouch demanded, understandably peeved by the witch’s trick. It didn’t prevent him from noticing CC was not wearing prisoner garbs anymore, but a Britannian soldier’s uniform.

“Identifying and securing a route to Clovis la Britannia’s command room.” There was satisfaction in her voice, yes, but CC’s eyes were also as sharp as the blade Red was slowly pulling away. The wolf-eared girl looked a bit disappointed at CC’s lack of reaction. “Interested?”

The moment he heard those words Lelouch’s eyes turned just as sharp as the green-haired woman’s. He didn’t need to voice his answer, and they both knew that, so Lelouch asked a question of his own. “Did you also pick up a gun?”

CC’ smile widened as she pulled out a gun from the holster on her uniform side and tossed it to Lelouch before walking towards the exit. “Can you even shoot it straight, boy?”

“BIG Samuel M17. Standard Britannian Infantry service pistol.” Lelouch said while following her, checking the loaded chamber indicator before taking out the magazine. After that he inspected both the laser attachment and the supercapacitator. “120 mm barrel. Muzzle velocity is 540 m/s. 9×19mm Parabellum bullets with a 17-round magazine.”

The immortal woman raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t going to stroke Lelouch’s ego even further, but it was clear the boy both knew his stuff and went through appropriate training. “This another thing they teach at school nowaday?”

“The black market doesn’t just sell weapons and supplies, woman.” Not all sellers offered military training along with their wares, but with some digging and a little luck Lelouch found a man offering both. Probably an ex-soldier since he called Lelouch ‘rookie’ a few times. The rest was just practice and an illegal shooting range.

Closure was still laser-focused on her computer, Red went back to hiding after CC’s arrival and Kal'tsit, having returned after completing the Doctor’s request, was listening intently while also taking care of the work that piled up during her absence. By contrast the Doctor looked interested in the green-haired woman’s news, but grew slightly concerned when Lelouch asked for a gun. Now, requesting a weapon when going out in the field was perfectly normal but the look in Lelouch and CC’s eyes told Rhodes’ tactician he was missing something. Something important. “Where are you going?”

Lelouch slapped the magazine in, then stopped and turned around to look straight into the Doctor’s visor. “To enjoy a family reunion.”

The exiled prince saw, with crystal clarity, the gears within the Doctor’s mind turning as he connected together all the hints Lelouch dropped until now and reached the only logical conclusion. Prideful he may be, but the amethyst-eyed boy wasn’t going to insult the other man’s intelligence by considering the possibility this was beyond him.

No, Lelouch knew exactly what he just implicitly admitted. Just as he knew the Doctor, who proved to be an exceptional tactician, would get it. The real question was: having obtained this information, what was the other man going to do with it?

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say the future of their alliance depended on the man’s next decision.

There was a moment of general silence, broken only by the humming of machines and Closure’s typing, and then the Doctor clapped his hands. The next words coming out of his mouth weren’t exactly cheerful, but he sounded like he was addressing a problem with a solution that required only a small trip to the storeroom. “Hey Kal’tsit, we’re going to threaten or kill, maybe both, Lelouch’s... brother?”

Said boy’s right eyebrow came very close to joining his hairline. “Half-brother.”

“Half-brother. You want in?”

The Feline didn’t answer immediately, eyes still staring at the screen and hands very still. Then she released a sigh that told of longing for either a less complicated situation or coffee. Probably both. “Might as well, you’ll only shoot yourself in the foot if I let you go it alone.”

“I’m also planning to pick up Amiya on the way.” The Doctor added. He stared without flinching as Kal’tsit shot him a glare that promised unspeakable pain if he screwed up and the Cautus paid for it, then turned his head to look at Lelouch. “This fine with you?”

Lelouch considered it. Ideally it would be only him confronting Clovis and forcing the truth out of him, or him and CC since it was clear the green-haired girl has a score to settle with his half-brother.

But after revealing his secret identity, something Rhodes Island was bound to discover sooner or later, and everything the dimensionally displaced travelers already invested to oppose Britannia?

There was a stark difference between gambling and wishful thinking, one Lelouch knew all too well. “It is. By the way, when and how exactly did you come across a similar situation?”

“Ah, well. It’s a long story, and not my place to say.” The emoticon on the Doctor’s visor changed to a melancholic smile. “But yes, it involved siblings on opposite sides of a war.”

He didn’t add ‘at least it didn’t end in tragedy’. The Doctor was optimistic, true, but even he admitted miracles hardly happened twice.

====​

The White Knight has been defeated, but the Britannian troops that took advantage of its rampage had yet to throw down the towel. Infantry, tanks and Knightmares were hammering at the barricades set up around Rhodes Island’s rally point, making no effort to conserve bullets. Prideful and condescending towards non-Britannians they may be, but only a few recruits were still hesitating in taking the enemy seriously.

Before today Britannia conquered one third of the world; now its army was called to demonstrate why something like that has been possible.

The Defenders were holding the line against the solid wall of hot lead blasting at them, spare shields from Rhodes’ military supplies ready in case the ones in use took too much of a beating. Snipers, Casters and the Knightmares piloted by Ohgi‘s group were returning fire despite being severely outnumbered, with the machines acting as cover for the Operators and the few Japanese armed with RPGs. The Guards were out there in force, making the enemy bleed as much as possible, but it was gruelling work and they couldn’t spare even a moment to rest.

Some, however, spared others that pain by working harder than most would think possible.

“My blood's only going-!” Blaze yelled, tackling one Sutherland at full force with her weapon held forward. The rotating chain was so soaked in her Arts it was impossible to see where metal ended and red aura began; which, coupled with the haze around her body, turned the Feline Operator into some kind of vengeful wraith straight out of hell in the eyes of Britannian soldiers.

The roaring chainsaw didn’t so much as saw the Knightmare as it blasted through the humanoid machine, the two halves spinning away from each other. “To make this place hotter!”

Feeling that the power released by her Arts was reaching its boiling point -she was definitely going to use that pun again- Blaze made a beeline for the biggest group of Britannians within reach. “Give me space!”

Luckily the nearby Operators were all people she’d worked with in the past, so they understood immediately what she was planning and reacted accordingly. Cries of “Back! Back!” rang out, and the Operators started moving away from her as quickly as possible.

Two Sutherlands opened fire on her, the pilots screaming as if someone was hitting their toes with a hammer, and were soon followed by tank-mounted machine guns and the rifles of infantry. At any other time this would be dangerous even for Blaze, but it was too little and too late.

“Boiling Burst!”

The chainsaw bit into the ground, releasing all the energy accumulated so far into a wave of heat that melted, vaporized and tore apart everything around the Feline Operator. The immediate area lapsed into a momentary calm in the attack’s aftermath, which was a good thing given the circumstances. Even Blaze was not completely immune to her own technique, leaving the woman out of breath and with a few burns that would require a Medic’s attention sooner than later.

That didn’t stop her from grinning at the sight of the hole she just opened in the enemy ranks. This should give them some breathing ro—

BANG!

She didn’t hear the shot. Not before the bullet entered her body and came out of the other side. The force pushed her back, and it was only by using her chainsaw’s extended haft as a crutch that Blaze remained standing.

And then the pain hit her.

“FUCK!”

====​

“Damn!” Jeremiah Gottwald lowered the sniper rifle in his hands. He had not used one since his time at the Military Academy but recent events proved that being close to those freaks of nature, even when within a Knightmare, was suicide. “The heat haze made me miss her head!”

“Well sir, with all due respect: keep at it.” Villetta Nu answered through their private link. Unlike the Margrave she was acting as a spotter, aiding her superior as he oversaw the push in-between his new role as a sniper. “And if you see one with a red sword and horns, give her two for me.”

“Yes yes, right after I finish this one.” Right now his subordinate’s cheek was the last of Jeremiah’s problems. He raised his rifle to a firing position and looked through the telescopic sight. “Let’s try that again. If you’d please?”

“Right. Range is 500 meters, and—damn!” Villetta swore.

“What?”

“We’ve been spotted, another of those freaks is looking right at us.” The dark-skinned woman refrained from biting her lips. Standoffs between two distant enemies were not less tense than ones between people pointing guns at each other: any show of weakness was dangerous. “Beige jacket, antlers and the usual black mask.”

The Margrave moved more of his body behind cover. “Any threat?”

“Doubtful, she’s only got a cross—oh hell.” Villetta’s tone of voice switched from wary to disbelieving. Not a good sign. “We need to move, now!”

“Is she trying to take a shot?” Those people, whoever they were, somehow made bows dangerous to experienced soldiers wearing military-grade armor. Even so, there was only so much you could ignore the laws of physics. “I can’t imagine she’d have any—”

“She’s speaking into a radio, and I recognize those hand movements!” A click, and their private channel was opened to their allies. “EVERYONE, EVACUATE!”

Soldier instincts kicked in: Gottwald rolled away from his perch and dashed towards the stairs while keeping a low profile to make himself less of a target.

He narrowly managed to reach the floor below before his previous position detonated.

“...Artillery. They have artillery!? Who the bloody hell are these people!?”

====​

Back with Blaze, she pawed around her jacket’s collar for a moment before grabbing and yanking the emergency ripcord sewn into the lining. She gasped as her emergency defibrillator activated, the harsh jolt burning away the darkness starting to creep into the corners of her vision, but it was only a stopgap. It didn’t help the fact that at the moment, the pain was starting to get really bad. “Ssssshit! So they have long-range Snipers too... damn gun-fanatics, not even Laterano is this bad!”

Not that she ever picked up a fight with a group of Lateranians while she just happened to be in the area. No siree. Not even she was that dumb, not good ol’ Big Sis Bla—Oh wow, that was a lot of blood pouring out of the hole on her left side: was all of that inside her?

...Wait! She needed it back inside her!

“CHAAARGE!”

Oh, that didn’t sound good.

And indeed, it wasn’t. Seeing Blaze’s moment of weakness the surviving infantry rushed to surround her: not on all sides, things weren’t that bad, but enough to form a kill zone with overlapping lines of fire and cut off her escape route. A good strategy, even if many of them looked like they were a bad scare away from opening fire without even aiming first.

Which was exactly what happened when the first shots were fired not at Blaze, but one end of the enemy lines. “RAAAAHHH!!” Kallen shouted at the top of her lungs, not even bothering to formulate coherent insults as she unleashed a flurry of both fists and gunfire on the Britannian soldiers. They tried to shoot back, but ended up either missing wildly or hitting their own allies as Kallen used them as living shields. Picking up a new gun from her fallen foes after the first one ran out of bullets, the redhead mowed the Britannians down like an avenging angel until they were either dead or in retreat.

“Thanks for the save Red...” Blaze smiled, then began to wobble when her limbs began to quickly lose strength.

Kallen caught the Feline before she could fall: slipping under Blaze’s arm, the one on the side where she got shot, the redhead started to pull her back to the battle lines. “Come on, hang in there! Don’t you dare die, damn it!” the red-head cussed vehemently—and even a little desperately. “I’ll do anything: clean your chainsaw, let you call me Red, just don’t bleed out on me! I am not going to win by a goddamn forfeit! Not against someone like you!”

Granted, Kallen also owed her life to the Operator. But she felt more comfortable using her competitiveness as an excuse. It also produced more adrenaline, which she needed to hold up the dumb cat’s stupidly heavy frame.

Blaze, despite her sight and mind getting blurry from bloodloss, kept smiling. “Awwww, you liiiiike meeee-ARGH, WATCH IT!” she cut off into a yowl as an elbow accidentally jabbed into her gunshot wound.

“Only if you keep holding on to your chainsaw.” Kallen muttered with a snort. She was currently able to carry their combined weight, but she needed both hands to hold Blaze.

The other Operators opened a gap in the barricade as they approached, then closed it again after the two were in while directing them to the closest medical tent.

“I know we’re running out of blood bags! Made them count!” Warfarin yelled at her assistants. Battlefield duty was nothing new to her, but one under a bright day? Her sensitive skin tingled harshly even under the tent’s shadow, giving her patience an even shorter fuse.

Sadly, Warfarin’s plan to get a little sip from her secret stash to calm her nerves were derailed when Kallen dragged a bloody and almost delirious Blaze inside the tent. “Blaze! What happened to you?!”

“Sniper shot. Left side.” Kallen replied. She knew how doctors operated: straight to the point, because time wasted is not time used to keep people from dying. “Where?”

“There.” The white-haired Vampire waved to a free stretcher. After Kallen laid down Blaze Warfarin immediately started checking the Feline’s body. “Large hole in the left side... bullet, and a fast one at that. Ahhhh, you big idiot, you used your defibrillator, didn’t you?”

Without waiting for an answer—she was a medic and she knew this repeat customer, she didn’t need one—Warfarin quickly closed the hole on both sides before giving Blaze a mild sedative and setting up a transfusion.

“Will she be okay?” Kallen asked. Absentmindedly she reached up and fixed one of the mask’s straps so it didn’t chafe her skin. A fool’s errand considering how much she was sweating, but she still needed it.

“Yes. The bullet missed her organs, bloodloss was the biggest threat.” With Blaze stabilized Warfarin moved her attention to Kallen, instinctually checking her body for wounds—

And going very still when her experience as a Medic and Vampire’s sense of smell made her realize the masked redhead was not just covered in Blaze’s blood, she was bleeding too. “You’re hurt!”

“It’s just a flesh wound.” Kallen waved off the misplaced concern. Some bullets gazed her, so what? The wounds didn’t hurt too badly, and she wasn’t in danger of bleeding out like Blaze. Kallen made sure the cat-eared woman was safe, now it was time to go back fighting. “Worry about her, while I go worry the Britannian scum!”

And before Warfarin could stop her Kallen bolted off. The Vampire tried to chase after the redhead, but she quickly lost sight of her in the chaos of the battlefield. Leaving the white-haired woman to stare in dumbstruck horror at where she last saw the girl whose name she’d failed to get.

“Nonono...” Warfarin dragged her hands up and back through her hair, teeth gritting in terror. “If Blaze’s blood gets inside her wounds... Damn it!”

====​

“Nearl! They’re going for another heavy push!” Liskarm warned the other Defender. Her electrical Arts were quite effective against the enemy machines once she learned what to target for maximum effect, but it didn’t make using them less exhausting. Even Franka had run out of quips by this point, and she was Franka! “Knightmares first, a lot of them!”

“I understand. Thank you Liskarm.” The blonde Kuranta nodded to the Vouivre, then looked through the spyhole to see the enemy for herself. Like Liskarm said the first wave was composed entirely of Knightmare Frames, part of their heads and shoulders painted a red maroon color. She had seen the same marks a few times before, probably a symbol of rank or affiliation to a specific group. Behind them were the tanks, followed by the infantry.

They were desperate, Nearl realized. This was a gamble, but one that had a good chance of working. Perhaps, if they weren’t tired from the prolonged fighting... no, ‘what ifs’ would only weaken her resolve. They simply had to give their all and hope for the best.

“Truly? Is this what Kal’tsit called me out for?” An annoyed, and very familiar voice suddenly remarked.

Nearl allowed herself to relax: her hopes had been answered, and just in time too. She turned around and smiled at the newcomer. “It is very reassuring to see you coming to our aid. You have my most sincere gratitude, Miss Nian.”

“Always so formal. But if you want to keep praising me go for it, I shall not stop you.” The red-horned woman briefly smiled in amusement before her expression returned once more to one of boredom. Yawning loudly she casually strode forwards, the other Operators moved out of her way and opened a gap in the barricade for her to pass through.

Barely a step out past the shieldwall, scraps of metal in the vicinity quivered before zipping up and deflecting a Knightmare round about to hit Nian.

“Honestly, you call this a conflict?” Nian cast her bored gaze across the enemies assembled before her, a hint of honest annoyance coloring her expression. “Such a dull meal... it barely even spikes my PALATE!” Her ‘shield’ rose behind her and roared, a shitton of scrap metal nearby—and some unlucky Knightmares in range too—melting within seconds and flowing around her in a ring. Using the metal as a catalyst, she spread her influence across the battlefield, greatly hardening the other Operators’ shields and armor.

“Attention whoever you all are. I have an announcement to make: I am now bored.” Nian scolded the shocked Britannians, unperturbed by the bullets being constantly deflected by her conjured shields. “I give you this one chance to possibly give your worthless lives value: try to amuse me.”

A moment of stunned silence passed.

Two.

A lone Knightmare charged at her, its pilot screaming himself hoarse. With contemptuous ease Nian reached out, the metal flowing into her open hand and quickly hardening into a massive blade.

She swung her new weapon with a lazy motion, slicing through the machine from head to crotch.

The stare that Nian gave the Brittanians was paradoxically as frigid as an iceberg... and as scalding as the sun.

“Try harder.”

What followed could not be called a battle, for such a term implies both sides had at least a small chance to defeat the other. The Purists and the other Britannians were soon forced to realize they would stand a better chance against Nian while fighting naked, because every weapon they used just turned into more fuel for her terrifying powers.

“Can I say I love it when that woman is deployed with us?” Franka laughed, even as she made sure the edge of her thermite blade was still sharp.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Liskarm didn’t even look at her partner, she just kept taking potshots at the Britannians that managed to not get crushed in the path of Nian’s walk.

The Vulpo grinned. “What, jealous?”

“Not even close!”

“Stop flirting you two. Have some consideration for us poor loners.” Rope called out teasingly. She was already gone by the time Liskarm found her voice again, darting out into the shadows of the battlefield in search of prey.

And oh look, there was a mark now!

Swinging her grappling hook with almost lazy ease, she wrapped it around a lone Britannian soldier and pulled him towards her, a kick to the chin knocking the man out cold. The Cautus dragged him behind a piece of rubble big enough to serve as cover, then looted his body of anything that looked even remotely useful. “Gun for the guys at the workshop, they’ll pay a lot for it... the helmet I can sell for parts... What’s this? There are only spare magazines and snacks in the pouches! Where’s the money?!”

Grumbling at her lack of luck (though it didn’t stop her from quickly devouring one of those snacks before stuffing the rest into her own pouches) Rope rolled up her hook and moved on in search of another target. With everyone focused on Nian, this was the best chance to make use of her specialty... while also making a little money on the side. It’s not like she was slacking off!

“To all troops! Cease fire immediately!” A voice boomed from above. Rope stopped and looked at the sky, seeing a helicopter carrying large speakers. It wasn’t the only one, there were many such helicopters all around the district. “I, the 3rd Prince Clovis la Britannia, issue this order as the Governor-General of Area 11. All troops, cease fire.”

Whoever was speaking, he sounded like a fop. In Rope’s experience people like that were often rich, and thus worth stealing from.

“Cease all structural destruction activity as well! Help the wounded regardless of whether they are Britannians or Elevens! I am issuing this order as Clovis la Britannia. Cease fire immediately and retreat from Shinjuku! I will not allow any further conflict!”

Rope saw the Britannians hesitate, then comply with the orders given by the foppish voice and start to retreat. The Rhodes Island Operators, even Nian, soon did the same.

She hung her head down in disappointment. “Damn. Salvaging time’s over.”

====​

Having finished his declaration of ceasefire Clovis turned off the announcement system. A bead of sweat slowly rolled down his cheek. “Was that adequate?”

“Yes. It was perfect.” CC slowly clapped her hands, as if congratulating an especially dumb child. She was sitting on the main control console, next to Kal’tsit as she worked with a wirelessly-connected Closure and PRTS to hack all the data in the G-1 Base. And while the green-haired woman was smiling, the look in her eyes sent shivers down Clovis’ back.

“I did what you asked me to do. Now, can you tell your—” Clovis’ eyes briefly flickered down, to the two knives hovering very close to his neck. “—associates to remove their weapons?!”

CC made a mock show of considering it, head tilted and index finger pushing against her chin. She hummed and looked at the two women flanking Clovis. “Actually, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet?”

“I’m Gravel, Rank 4 Knight of Kazimierz. It’s a pleasure.” The pink-haired woman said with a flirtatious tone.

“Projekt Red. Wolf hunter.” Red answered next.

“Charmed. So, Princey here wants the implicit threats to his manhood removed.” Clovis didn’t splutter at the insult, but only because doing so was liable to end with it being the last noise he ever made. “What do you say?”

Gravel giggled, her other hand moving back and forth as it dangled her second blade. “Isn’t that a very interesting question?”

“Gravel, Red. You can step back now.” The Doctor interrupted, him and Amiya having finished ensuring the guards they knocked out would not wake up anytime soon.

“Yes Doctor.” The two Specialists put away their weapons, but Gravel remained close to the commands next to Clovis’ throne as a warning.

“I’m grateful for your cooperation Prince Clovis.” The Doctor crossed his arms, while next to him Amiya remained quiet. Usually it was the opposite, with him saying a few words and the Cautus doing most of the talking, making the Doctor realize both of them had changed a lot since that fateful day in Chernobog. “There are still a few things we need you to do.”

“What’s next?” The blonde prince tried to put on a false bravado. “Shall I sing a song for you? Or be your opponent in Chess?”

“Chess, hm? How nostalgic.” The last member of the group, who until then had remained silent and hidden in the shadows, suddenly commented with a wistful tone. “Remember Clovis? We would often play Chess together, with me winning every single match. And unfortunately for you, I don’t think you’ve improved much over the years.”

“What? What are you—!?” Clovis started to demand, before choking off as his memory caught up to him. The way that person spoke, and his voice—no, it was impossible.

“Have you forgotten? Of those idyllic days at the Aries Imperial Villa?” The figure walked into the light, revealing the sadistic grin of a dead man. “It’s been a while, brother.”

The blonde prince paled at the sheer impossibility standing before him. “You-! L-L-Lelouch?!”

“Indeed. Firstborn of the deceased Queen Marianne, former Eleventh Prince and 17th successor to the throne.” Lelouch put a fist over his heart and made a mocking bow towards Clovis. “Lelouch vi Britannia, at your service.”

“Hn. So you’re really royalty. Closure owes me a soda.” The Doctor commented with a light tone.

“Mah, cheapskate Doctor! Your luck will run out one day!” The annoyed vampire lamented over the radio.

Lelouch stopped bowing and shot an annoyed glare at his associate. “You aren’t really surprised, even by this. What an interesting life you must have had.”

“It really was!”

“Lelouch! I’m so happy: I heard you died during the conquest of Area Eleven!” Forgetting about the people who moments ago had been threatening to gut him like a fish Clovis stood up, spreading his arms to embrace Lelouch.

He abruptly stopped when the ex-prince revealed that the feeling was decidedly not mutual, namely by levelling a gun at his face.

“Oh, but you see, I did in fact ‘die’: I was sent to Japan as a political tool, and then discarded when my role was over.” Lelouch hissed with venom. He took a step forward, his aim unwavering, causing Clovis to stumble back into his throne as his breathing quickened with the rising panic. “But as interesting as the past decade has been for me, there is something else I want to address: my mother’s murder.”

Clovis recoiled as if struck. “W-What!?” He stammered between chattering teeth. Everyone in the room was focused on the two siblings: even Kal’tsit had paused in her work, and Gravel had lost her usual smile, replaced by a perfectly blank expression.

“Even though she held the rank of Knight of Honor and was one of the Imperial Consorts, my mother was originally a commoner. Thus she, was held in contempt by the nobility and the other Consorts.” Lelouch stated with a calm he didn’t feel. All the grief, rage and helplessness from ten years ago was bubbling to the surface of his mind. “Until someone went so far! As to stage a fake terrorist attack! To kill her!”

He took another step and shoved the gun’s barrel right into Clovis’ face. “I’ve waited all my life since that day for an answer, and you will not deny me now! I want to know who did it! Answer me!”

“I-I-It wasn’t me!” Clovis begged, hands raised in a desperate attempt at placation. “I don’t know anything! I swear!”

“It’s a lie.”

Both princes’ attention snapped to the side to focus on the speaker.

Amiya weathered their stares with a solemn expression, her attention never wavering from Clovis. “The second statement, not the first.” she continued, her voice confident beyond all doubt. “He didn’t kill your mother... but he knows something about it.”

Clovis paled further than he already had been, both at being called out...

CLICK!

And at Lelouch pulling back his gun’s hammer and jamming it’s muzzle flush against his temple.

“Tell. Me. Now.” The irate prince snarled, a promise—a certainty—of vengeance in his voice.

Clovis let out a miserable whimper, but that was all he let slip.

“Lelouch, that won’t work.” Amiya cut in once more, this time with action. She laid her hand on Lelouch’s arm, and though Lelouch’s arm shivered and clenched with sheer fury she managed to push it away from his intended target. “He won’t talk. He’s more afraid of someone else, than he is of anyone in this room. Even of you.”

Lelouch wanted to know how Amiya was so sure of that, but right now he was content to ascribe it as one of the girl’s talents. Besides, it fit the boy’s knowledge of his foppish sibling. But still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stop trying. As evidenced by him lashing out with his other hand and grabbing Clovis’ collar, dragging the fop’s face close to his own. “Are you more scared of the Emperor than me, Clovis? Understandable, but you would do well to remember who, right now, has your life in their hands.” And with that promise he shoved his brother back into his seat.

The blonde prince’s face was as white as a sheet, and yet he kept his lips firmly pressed together.

To say that Lelouch was infuriated was an understatement. The fragile hold he was keeping on his anger was fraying more and more at the realization that, even with all of this, he was still powerless to get what he truly—

“Perhaps... I can offer some assistance.” CC stood up from her seat and sashayed closer to Lelouch, looking like a cat who’d just sunk her fangs into her prize.

Somehow, hearing those words sent Clovis into an even deeper panic. He almost lunged out of his chair, only being held back by the Specialists who grabbed his shoulders. “Don’t listen to her Lelouch! S-She’s a liar! A monster! A-A-A witch!”

“Which, ultimately, still makes her an infinitely better person than you.” Lelouch interrupted him in a grim tone, not even glancing away from the approaching woman. If Clovis wanted him to not listen to CC, then it was all the more reason to do so.

“Low bar, but I’ll take it.” CC momentarily pouted before smiling again. “You see, being immortal is not the only power I have.”

That seemed to pique Kal'tsit’s interest. “Immortal?”

“I can regenerate from anything. It’s not biological, so don’t bother.” The green-haired woman answered without even turning around. “And it is neither here nor there. You see, beside that I also have the ability to grant other people a skill called Geass: the specifics vary from person to person, but it’s always a power capable of influencing the mind in some fashion.”

Lelouch raised an eyebrow: after everything he’d seen today, this development was comparatively mild. “You have no control over which... Geass one receives?”

“No, but I can give you easy odds that whatever feat you achieve, you can use it to rip Princey’s mind inside out for answers.” She’d actually given out Geasses for less, even if she was not proud of that. “Besides, what are your other options? Torture? He’s more likely to start crying for his mother than to fess up.”

“I’m right here!” Clovis shrieked.

“And nobody cares.” CC chuckled at the look on Clovis’ face before addressing Lelouch again. “So what will it be, boy?”

Why did she ask him if she already knew the answer? Oh right, because it fed her ego. “What do you want in exchange?”

“Oh, that’s simple: for you to grant me my one true wish... which I am not revealing yet.” CC’s demeanor turned more somber. “But I can promise you will be the only one to pay for it: no one else will be involved.”

“No, no!” Clovis yelped, trying to lunge at his brother, even as the Specialists forcefully held his arms down. “Lelouch, you can’t do this! She’s lying to you, not telling you everything! There’s more going on than you know!”

Lelouch’s response was to stare back at his brother with a gaze that was glacial at best. “Maybe so, Clovis... But whatever it is, I’ll soon discover it for myself.” And with that, he turned back to the grinning witch, preparing to tackle one more gamble in his life. ”I accept your terms. How does this work?”

“Well to start with, put the safety on your gun.”

Lelouch did so, grimacing as he deduced why. “Do I need to worry about a seizure?”

“Intense twitching during the process isn’t uncommon.” The Immortal replied with a shrug. She then paused, a momentary sadness flitting across her face. “And... for whatever it’s worth? I'm sorry.”

“For?”

“This.”

And then she grabbed his arm. Those looking straight at her noticed a red symbol suddenly glowing on her forehead, resembling a bird in flight.

For Lelouch, time slowed down to a crawl, his mind suddenly disjointed from his body. His heart was racing, and his senses were on fire. CC’s voice spoke directly into his head, her words barely registering as she spoke of a ‘contract’ and a ‘Power of the King’, while his senses were assaulted by a rush of strange images.

Twin celestial bodies, machines beyond measure.

Neurons and synapses, extending to the root of the very soul itself.

And that man!

But through it all, the rush of images and emotions, Lelouch kept his wits about him just enough to say two simple... but oh-so-momentous words, that would decide the fate of the world for years to come.

“I ACCEPT!”​

Meanwhile, though for Lelouch and CC the seconds stretched on for a short eternity, the world did not pause around them.

The instant the witch had grabbed her new contractor Amiya released a choked gasp and crouched down, hands cradling her head.

“Amiya?!”/“What’s wrong?” The Doctor and Kal'tsit were immediately fussing over the young Cautus.

“I... ngh, i-it’s nothing... A migraine, but it’s already passing. I-I’ll be fine.” Amiya doubted the veracity of her own words, even as she jerkily straightened up and cracked an eye to stare at the entranced pair. This sensation... it was just as strong as when she incidentally read Lelouch’s feelings, but incredibly more complex. If Amiya had to put it into words, it was as if...

As if she was in the middle of a crowd made of millions of people... and they were all looking at her.

And then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed.

Seconds after accepting the immortal’s offer Lelouch was back in his body, stunned as he realized that barely even a handful of seconds had passed. He made a mental note to look into this ‘Ragnarok Connection’, see what else Charles was planning besides spreading his twisted ideology.

But all of it would have to wait for later. Right now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

Unlike Amiya, Lelouch was left with a feeling of power coursing through his nerves, knowledge he never possessed before telling him what he could do now.

Trembling in his seat, Clovis whimpered in terror as he was given a front-row view of the grin that was slowly spreading across his brother’s face. “L-Lelouch?”

Clovis’ fear was amplified tenfold when Lelouch’s finger twitched, removing his gun’s safety... but it well and truly peaked when Lelouch raised his head and looked his half-brother dead in the eyes.

In that instant, meeting Lelouch’s gaze, Clovis watched as his left eye changed, a crimson, bird-like shape blazing to life across his pupil... and knew the true definition of terror.

“So, Clovis...” Lelouch hissed, barely repressed glee threaded in his voice. “One. Last. Time. Will you answer me of your own volition? Or will I have to make you?”

Almost against his own will, Clovis’ mouth dropped open—

“Too late.” Lelouch swept his arm up, pointing straight at his kin. “I, Lelouch vi Britannia, command you! Answer all questions with nothing but the TRUTH!”

All it took was the space between seconds, a mere flash imperceptible to all else. Within that instant the sigil in Lelouch’s eye seemed to take flight, a single flap of its wings carrying it from Lelouch’s eye and into Clovis’. Unseen by all, the Third Prince’s synapses twisted and flared... and then the instant passed, and the deed was done.

Almost instantly all panic disappeared from the blonde prince’s posture, his body relaxing against the throne. Gravel and Red tentatively released his arms, backing away from the now disturbingly docile royal.

“As you command, your Highness...” Clovis droned, staring clean through Lelouch with a blank expression. A stare, some of the onlookers noted uncomfortably, that was tinged with a miniscule ring of red about his pupils.

The Doctor hissed, scratching at the back of his neck. “Well. That’s not in the least bit disturbing.”

Amiya swallowed heavily, ears lowered flat against her scalp as she observed the Prince’s emotions, now muted to the point of nigh non-existence. “You have no idea...”

Lelouch, meanwhile, summarily ignored the byplay as he honed in on the driving motive that had, for all intents and purposes, brought about the events that had led to this very moment. “Tell me everything you know: Who killed Queen Marianne?”

“I do not know.” Clovis answered simply, his voice a monotone, dull and lifeless.

Lelouch could not hold back a snarl. “Then who does?!”

“The 2nd Prince, Schneizel, and the 2nd Princess, Cornelia. They should know.”

That response stunned Lelouch out of his impatient rage, his eyes widening by a fraction. “Are you certain? And why?”

“I am. Cornelia was part of Lady Marianne’s Royal Guard and has been investigating her death for many years. Father ordered Schneizel to take Lady Marianne’s body somewhere, I do not know where or why. They are the most likely to have answers.”

Lelouch took a moment to process that before glancing aside, a hand slapping to his temple with a sharp growl as he processed the fact that he had more questions and problems than he did before. “Because of course it had to be those two... Schneizel especially. This won’t be simple.”

“Ah, but it never is, is it?” CC sing-sang, arms akimbo and a wide grin on her lips, even as she leaned to the side to get a better view of her contractee’s shining eye. “A Geass of Absolute Obedience, hm? Fitting, I suppose.”

Lelouch clenched his free eye shut with a sharp tsk, pointedly casting a sidelong glare at his contractor. “I’m going to pretend that was a compliment, so as to resist the temptation to shoot you in the head.”

“Much appreciated, boy~”

“Temptation rising...”

“Sooo... it’s like super hypnosis?” The Doctor mused, just a bit disconcerted by the whole thing. A sentiment shared by the other executives: they’d certainly seen far more obscure and unsettling abilities, they even lived with more unsettling, but a display of such complete power and control over another person’s psyche... that was a first. “Uhm... Clovis, what is the most embarrassing memory you can remember?”

“Wetting my bed when I was still ten years old.” The blonde prince answered without hesitation.

Gravel and CC snorted. Red was poking Clovis’ head with a finger, seemingly curious about the prince’s lack of response.

Lelouch’s frown deepened, and he refocused on the task at hand. “Is this the extent of your knowledge regarding my mother’s death?”

“Yes.” Clovis answered.

The exiled prince clicked his tongue, eyes still locked with his brother’s own. Truth be told, he hadn’t held out much hope on Clovis knowing something substantial about his mother’s death: despite being the Third Prince, nobody in their right mind would trust the foppish blonde with sensitive information.

But Schneizel and Cornelia? Those were better leads. Incredibly dangerous leads, but Lelouch’s resolve was not so shallow: if he had to surpass the best Britannia had to offer, then he would damn well do so.

His curiosity sated, Lelouch was about to release his control over Clovis... but was given pause Amiya stepped up beside him, staring at his brother. “Do you regret what you did?” The young Cautus asked with startling intensity. “To the district, to Area 11 as a whole. Do you regret it?”

“Only that it almost hurt Lelouch.” Clovis replied, the answer startling his raven-haired half-brother. “Had I known he was there, I would have had him extracted to a secure location before proceeding.”

Lelouch resisted the urge to blink, keeping his eyes opened despite their increasing dryness. Clovis... cared about him? It sounded unbelievable, yet did Lelouch could not deny the nature of his own order.

“What about everyone else?” Amiya insisted, heedless of the pause she’d given Lelouch. “So many people are dead because of your orders! Men, women, children! Civilians, who’d never done anything to anyone! Don’t you regret it, even a little?!”

“No.” Amiya’s breath hitched at the blunt statement, but Clovis wasn’t finished. “I am a Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, and they were mere Numbers. To live and die at my command is their purpose in life. Anyone beneath me is unworthy of my concern.” The Prince still spoke in the same lifeless tone as before. It didn’t make his words any less chilling.

Amiya reeled back as if struck, hands clenched so hard they trembled. Behind their masks the other members of Rhodes Island were also shooting dirty looks at the still-hypnotized Prince.

Lelouch sneered: just what he expected from someone raised under the shadow of that man.

...and yet...

And yet, as much as he wanted to hate him... as much as he wanted to unilaterally despise him, like he undoubtedly despised everything his flag stood for... Lelouch found it hard to do so anymore. To know with absolute certainty that Clovis still cared about his family... Perhaps, just perhaps, some distant part of Clovis’ soul was not completely lost.

Lelouch supposed that alone was worth a small amount of mercy. “Do you have any last questions for him?” He asked the room at large, and the atmosphere chilled almost visibly as his intentions were made clear.

“...You don't have to do this, Lelouch.” Amiya sounded tired, so much it was almost unbelievable that she yet stood. But she made no move to stop Lelouch, her head bowed in solemn acceptance... or surrender. “He... he’s your brother.”

“I’m afraid you have that backwards, Miss Amiya.” Lelouch leveled the gun between his brother’s yet-oblivious eyes. “He’s my brother. I have to do this.”

“Do you mean that you have to do this?” The Doctor asked, stressing his words inquisitively. Unlike Amiya, he mostly sounded resigned. Gravel laid her hand on his shoulder, her smile entirely forsaken in favor of a comforting frown.

“Or that you have to do this?” Kal’tsit followed, watching him. Judging him. Projekt Red was kneeling in her shadow, stare blank and knives held at the ready.

Lelouch took a moment to consider the questions.

But ultimately, there had only ever been only one possible answer.

“Both.”

A single shot rang out.