Hi! I have some random crack!fic for you all to read, if you're interested. I feel like I'm avoiding my mpreg, eheheh.

Well, yeah, there is an OC in this, but it's all for the sake of the crack. I dedicate half of this fanfiction to my friend, who assisted me in coming up with the original plan for the Geass you will soon learn about!

I've made no plans for future chapters, so that means any updating will be slow and unorganized. Sorry! I wanted to get this out there before I got disinterested.

(And I have no clue what to categorize it as. Rated T for possible violence and language, I really have no clue where this is going though.)

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One- Pilot?

Arid air swirled around the alleyways of Glasgow. The blurred shadows of civilians could be seen as they stumbled over streets, now reduced to rubble. One man however was aside from the panicking people and stood on the doorstep to an apartment complex, in which he owned the room entitled '09'. It actually appeared to be room '06', as the cheap nine was only hanging by its bottom screw and tended to slide upside-down.

This man is not the sort of man you think he is. He is not cheap, nor is he grungy, nor is he very poor. He might even fit into a high-middle class of citizens. He does not place his values upon the size of his house. He places his values upon the size of the items inside of his house. It is safe to say that this man probably has a huge television and a king-sized bed in that tiny apartment room.

His name is Walter. Never mind a last name, they're only needed for business cards and phone books anyway. Walter is like the average Britannian man- arrogant, narrow-minded, naïve and somewhat stupid. No offense to the majority of the world intended.

Walter still attends school, but he also attends work. He makes quite a bit of money in that workplace as well. You needn't worry about what workplace that is, why does it matter? He has a big TV and a big bed, what else do you need to know?

Back onto the topic at hand, Walter was waiting for the right moment as he stood on his doorstep, choking on the smoke rising around him. A truck had crashed just outside of his apartment room. He'd barely seen it through his window and the smoke which had begun to billow about a half hour ago. Walter was used to that. Warfare happened all the time in Glasgow.

Remember back when Britannia was in charge? That was about fifty years ago, was it not? Things have flipped upon themselves since then. Now it's the former Areas attacking Britannia with the shinier Knightmares and stronger armies. The political leaders of those countries have not forgotten the pain of their ancestors. They have the power to fight back. Walter is silently rooting for them in his apartment home.

In that truck Walter is waiting for, there awaits a special treat. For now, he doesn't know just what's in there. The time will come when he can stop waiting and dart across the alley. Then he'll know, obviously.

It's funny how people wonder why something has happened, when they all know it is because of one stupid move. Poor Walter.

Walter leaned against the archway above the apartment door with a bored expression on his face, but he was anything from bored. Through the smoke he was carefully screening the crash site of a truck that had collided with a house just a few minutes earlier. Soon, the civilians would clear, and he could make his way over to the wreckage.

That soon came in just five minutes more. Walter took his chance- he sprinted across the stone-paved alleyway to the driver's seat of the truck. He took one look at the driver and knew inside that he was definitely dead. Even so, he tried to receive a response as he pushed at his shoulder roughly. "Hey, Mister! You alive?" He asked the corpse. No response, obviously. Did he really think that the dead body would get up and dance for him?

He abandoned the dead passenger altogether and traveled to the back of the truck. Walter wrenched open the crumpled door to find it appeared to be one of those cars they kept prisoners in. Well, he assumed anyway. He'd seen enough television to compare those cars to this one.

"Good afternoon." Walter jumped as a feminine voice spoke from the dark corner of the truck. He hadn't even imagined that someone would be in there. Another stupid move.

"Ah, hello." Walter responded awkwardly. "Who are you?" He asked.

"I don't know. Who are you?" She asked back, the same cool, monotonous voice as before.

"Walter, Walter Jennings." He responded immediately, and the woman all but cackled. It was creeping him out.

"What a stupid boy I've found." The woman chuckled, apparently amused. She must have been able to see his face, because she responded to his confused expression. "Never give your name to a complete stranger."

Walter scratched his head. "Okay, I'll, uh, remember that." He nodded, then reached his hand into the dark compartment of the truck. "Do you want to get out of here?" He asked her, motioning with his hand for her to come out.

"Stupid boy," She laughed as Walter was getting rather annoyed at the comments attacking his intelligence level, "I'm in a prisoner's truck. They have me strapped to the bench."

"Right." He muttered, and he crawled into the back of the truck. He tried flipping a light switch on the wall of the vehicle, but the lights were not functioning, probably due to the crash. Walter instead pulled out his cell phone and pointed it at the corner. He nearly yelled out in shock.

The woman he'd been talking to had lime green hair. Neon, almost. It even looked natural. It was sprawled out all over the white plastic walls and bench and reached to her ankles.

Walter shook his head to snap himself out of it before getting to work, unbuckling all the straps and unzipping the zippers until she was free from the bench, but it seemed their interaction would not end there.

A loud banging on the side of the truck startled him and he froze in position. "Is anyone in there?" He could hear a man yelling as he banged his fist upon the side of the vehicle. Another man pulled open the door and before Walter could do anything, that man was yelling an alert to the rest of the men probably surrounding the truck.

"Shit, now what?" He asked the woman, but she just shrugged as if she hadn't a care in the world. He wanted to yell at her, but decided against it as the man banging on the truck stopped and walked to the opened entrance of the truck.

"Who are you?" The man asked, pointing a gun to his head.

"Wa—uh, why do you need to know?" He remembered what the woman had said earlier.

"Shut up, kid!" The man shook his gun in Walter's face to show it off. "You're one of the terrorists, aren't you?!" He jumped to such a conclusion. Walter heard the woman mutter something again about stupid people.

"Hey!" The man's attention turned to the woman now as he heard her muttering. "I'll just have to kill you both now;" the man pointed his gun back at Walter and grinned. "Starting with you."

Walter heard the explosive sound from the gun. He heard as it shot through the air faster than he could see. He waited for the pain, but it didn't come. The woman had stepped in front of him just in time to take his bullet in her head.

Walter almost shrieked like a girl as her limp body fell back against his chest, head wound pouring blood all over the once-white flooring of the truck. She was already dead.

"Ah, well, you're both dyin' anyway." The man said, and he made to pull the trigger, but the woman's hand shot out for Walter's. He couldn't stifle the short squeak he made from the unexpected contact, and suddenly, he was… floating?

There were flashing lights everywhere, mostly blue. The woman came into his field of vision, floating in front of him. "This is really weird." He told her, but she shrugged again.

"I'm used to it."

An awkward pause.

"Oh yes, right, I can grant you an immense power that few in this world have ever obtained. It is mystical and secretive, and will give you the power of the Kings. This power will make you lonely indeed. Will you accept my contract?" The woman said all in one tone.

"Wait, what?" Walter asked. He was quite confused. The woman sighed with annoyance in her eyes.

"I can make a magic thing in your eye that can make you do cool magical things, but sometimes, well, most of the time, it sucks and screws up your life. Do you want it?" She repeated in a language Walter could understand, and he nodded.

"Yeah, I guess it could be neat." He told her, and she nodded before closing her eyes, and with a bright flash, the floating-world was gone and Walter was back in reality, at gunpoint with the angry man again.

"Why do you want to shoot me, sir?" Walter said as he stood, a smirk on his face. "Are you any different from a terrorist, shooting an innocent and unarmed civilian?"

"What shit are you talking about, kid?" The man asked him, a little confused by the change of heart.

"I command you to kill yourselves!" Walter felt something in his eye activate. It was kind of a weird feeling, like an electric shock going through his head. There was an awkward pause again.

"What the hell are you talking about?" The man asked him. "Do you think you're funny?" The other men behind him also had looks on their faces that said that they felt like they were being played like fools. A few let out confused, angry chuckles.

"You said I could do magical things!" He whispered frantically at the woman's dead form. Then she wasn't dead anymore. Walter was surprised he hadn't passed out yet from the shock value of this day.

"WHAT THE—" Before the man even finished swearing he was quite a few meters away. His men followed close behind.

The woman wiped the rubble from her clothing as she stood. "My name is C.C." Finally, a name.

"Why didn't you just tell me that earlier? That's barely considered a name."

"I like to play with my prey before I eat it." She said with a scary smirk planted firmly on her face, and Walter was officially shut up. He could almost see the fangs poking out between her lips, it was that realistically scary.

"You said I could do magical things with this." Walter pointed at his eye. "Explain."

"Well, each Geass—"

"Geass?"

"Well, yeah, that's what it's called. Anyway, moving on, each Geass has a specific power. Mind control, mind reading, anything really. I've seen quite a few of them. Can you hear anyone's thoughts?"

Walter thought hard, but all he could hear were the whispers of his mild schizophrenia. "No, I don't think so."

C.C. seemed deep in thought. Well, really she looked just like she always did—stoic and uninterested—but Walter wanted to pretend she was showing such an emotion on her face. "Then I have no idea what it does. We'll just have to find out. Did activating it do anything?"

"No." Walter was frustrated. "So other people have received this power and have been able to control minds and read them, and mine is broken?" C.C. nodded.

"At least you coming back to life scared them away." Walter sighed with anger evident in his dramatic exhalation. "Let's go back home."

Home was all but three minutes away, when including opening a locked door.

C.C. laid herself down upon his king-sized bed (I told you he probably had one), her lime green hair sprawled out all around her form. Walter still couldn't get over the fact that her hair was green.

"I need to sleep there." He complained, but it was not a very strong complaint, as the event of gaining a broken magical eye had tired him out.

"This bed is huge." She commented, as if she hadn't heard him at all.

"Get off."

"Why?" C.C. played with a strand of her hair.

"Because I want to sleep."

"You have a couch, don't you?"

Walter was too tired to fight back. He mumbled something even he couldn't understand as he grabbed a blanket and fell asleep in his refrigerator box-sized living room. C.C. took it as a chance to rummage through his things.

"Hey, Walter." Said man groaned as he felt C.C.'s hand prodding his shoulder. "Walter." She repeated, pushing his shoulder even harder.

"What?" Walter hissed.

"Look at this." C.C. held up a large plate in front of his face. It didn't look like the ones he kept in his small kitchen.

"What is it?" Walter slurred. He hadn't woken up yet.

"It's a plate." C.C. told him as she pushed it closer into his face.

"Yeah, I know, I mean where did you find it?" C.C. shrugged.

"It was on the bed when I woke up." Walter looked at the mysterious plate more closely. It had a strange emblem of a red bird-like thing in the middle of it. That was pretty much it.

"Did it come out of your ass or something?" C.C. gave him a strange look, but otherwise ignored him.

"Activate your Geass." She commanded.

"The eye thing? Alright." Walter felt the familiar shock as he stared into the plate, watching as the emblem glowed to life in its center. As if it were some sort of strange magic, a grilled cheese sandwich appeared on the plate with a quiet 'pop'.

"Food." C.C. took the sandwich and ate it as Walter stared into the sky and talked to himself. "I receive a dangerous and powerful magical eye, and I get the power to generate food." C.C. wasn't listening.

"Hey, try to concentrate on a specific food and make it appear." She suggested as she finished the sandwich.

'French fries, French fries, French fries…' Walter thought as he stared at the plate with his Geass flaring in his eye. Sure enough, beautiful French fries were born on his Geass plate. C.C. went into his nearby kitchen, grabbed a normal plate, and brought it back. She pushed the French fries onto the normal plate and looked him sternly in the eye.

"Try to make Pizza Hut pizza." Her glare of determination was powerful enough to burn out stars.

'Pizza Hut, Pizza Hut, Pizza Hut…' Walter concentrated. C.C. made the most normal human response Walter had ever heard her make by gasping in emotional excitement as a Pizza Hut box filled with steaming fresh pizza appeared on the plate. Walter almost thought he saw a tear of joy.

C.C. grabbed the Pizza Hut box and began cramming the pizza down her throat, fitting some words between some very large bites. "I haven't—eaten—Pizza Hut—in decades!"

"Okay… So what else should I do with this Geass thing?" Walter asked her.

"I don't know, go feed the poor. Just make me Pizza Hut pizza at least three times a day!" C.C. spoke hastily before cramming another slice in her mouth.

Walter was more than pissed. He wanted to curse C.C. to the pits of hell, but unfortunately it seemed she wouldn't stay there very long. So he decided yelling at the top of his lungs was good enough.

End! Reviews are nice.

Code Geass belongs to Sunrise/CLAMP/Taniguchi/someone else I haven't covered, probably, but it's definitely not me.