Code Geass: Prelude to Ascension

by OmegaZXA

"My name is Lelouch Lamperouge, and it is official: I cannot die." Ties in R2 to LotA

Intermission: Prelude to Ascension

Journal entry number four. It's been roughly a month since I found this tattered old journal, nearly blank except for a few pages I removed when I found it. A shame really, since it has come in handy quite often on my journey. The hike through these mountains is a severe one, and going it alone as I have been doing only adds solitude to my physical trauma. I'll be honest: a part of me wishes that I had paid more attention in my physical education classes, perhaps even worked out a little. At the time it had seemed trivial, a waste of energy to train my body when my mind was so very focused and my body did what I needed it to do. Now though…how on earth Suzaku managed it all those years is beyond me, though I have little doubt military training had a great deal to do with it. My lack of physical abilities is blatantly obvious now more than ever, particularly after the ordeal I've just been through. However, I am now certain that no other human being would bother me up here, so I can finally write my name without fear of being hunted. Maybe one day this journal will help shed the light on my story, so that in spite of everything I did during my short term as Emperor of Britannia people will know why I acted in such a manner and that everything I did was to ensure peace.

My name is Lelouch Vi Britannia, 99th Emperor of the Realm…except that's not quite right, is it? No, there is no more Lelouch Vi Britannia. He died, nearly a year ago now, soaked in his own blood and sliding down a humiliating echo of his public ego. He can't survive if the world is to move on, and since there can only be one Emperor or Empress of Britannia at a time it is far better that he disappear than to remove the kind-hearted young woman who succeeded him. No, I am not Lelouch Vi Britannia…I am Lelouch Lamperouge once more, a name befitting the peaceful life that side of me once lived and the exile I now find myself in.

I am Lelouch Lamperouge, and it is confirmed: I am an immortal. Unable to die, and yet no longer truly alive, a constant through time until the day I can pass on my Code to a worthy successor.

As I write this the wounds I suffered after being mauled by a wolf are already healing. I can almost imagine that brilliant sociopath Asplund drooling over all the possible experiments he could do with my newfound gift. CC was right though, this is no gift: though I am lucky to have survived at all let alone fully intact the pain ravages my body in a constant wave. The first wave must've knocked me out and led the wolf to believe me finished, though I do wonder why it didn't try to do further damage. Perhaps there is something new in my blood, something foul or toxic to such creatures that it preferred starvation to poisoning. There is no scarring tissue, no feeling of internal bleeding, nothing save for that same scar I've had since the end of Zero Requiem. Zero Requiem…just writing it down brings so many memories flooding in, yet another effect of my newfound eternal life. CC always had problems containing her memories when manipulating C's World, and now I can see why.

For future generations I must clarify what Zero Requiem was and why it means so much to me, and to do that I must explain the circumstances leading up to it. Though I was born a prince of Britannia my sister and I became worthless when our mother was killed and my sister Nunnally blinded and crippled. It wouldn't be until much, much later that I would discover that the source of her sight-related trauma was not due to that disturbing night but rather a trick by our father to send us away. He would say it was to keep us safe…I would laugh at the pure idiocy of that idea, were it not for the fact that he then proceeded to fully abandon us in the war-torn land once called Japan. There we made friends, both Japanese and Britannian, who kept our existence secret and saved us from political abuse and radical extremists. Over the years we stayed with the Ashford family, friends of our mother with a daughter only a year my senior. We continued to exist, but to me at least it was merely existing, no longer living or moving forward. Our time had stopped, so that despite many friends and kind folk who knew us only on the surface I was slowly dying inside.

Maybe it was fate, or perhaps just pure dumb luck, but I stumbled across two impossible things not even three years ago. One was my old Japanese friend Suzaku, the son of the fallen nation's deceased Prime Minister and soldier of the Britannian Army who housed so many personal demons that even I feel eclipsed by the sense of guilt he carries. The other was CC, the woman I have mentioned a few times already. Though I didn't know it at the time she too was immortal, possessing the mysterious power simply dubbed The Code which allowed her to grant people extraordinary powers in exchange for granting her wish. I agreed, ignorant of her terms but not caring when my father's dogs wounded Suzaku and were preparing to gun me down in an abandoned warehouse. The power of kings, she had called it in a way that spoke to me without her ever speaking, the Geass of absolute obedience that allowed me to command my would-be killers to kill one another.

There are many things a person would do with such powers, things they would claim beneath them until they actually tasted the power. As my hands were already stained with blood I began a vengeful crusade against my father and his empire, taking a local resistance group into my ranks as the force needed to oppose him. With their abilities piloting Britannia's Knightmares and my own superior strategies we easily routed my half-brother Clovis to the point where I was able to make my first open strike against Britannia by assassinating him. Things escalated quickly from there, as I created the alternate persona of Zero to lead a rebellion against Charles. The rest is common knowledge, for the most part: I formed the Black Knights to add firepower and justice to my vendetta; we continued to fight my sister Cornelia and her elites on fair terms; and along the way I discovered that Suzaku, my good and noble friend who had survived being shot by his Britannian "superiors", was the secret pilot of the troublesome Lancelot unit that had caused my people so much grief. Then came the First Battle of Tokyo, where in the glory of victory a horrible and unseen factor entered into the fray: my father, aware of our existence and my vengeful endeavors, had sent an agent of his to abduct my sister and take her back to Britannia. There was no choice to be made, between the life of one innocent girl and the freedom of an entire nation: I abandoned the mission at its highest point to rescue my sister, leaving my soldiers panicking and easy enough to capture.

That night Suzaku confronted me as I was working to rescue Nunnally, grief-stricken because I had lost control of my Geass and unknowingly used it on the woman he loved. To prevent my Geass power from creating a bloodbath I had been forced to kill one of the few decent siblings I had, right before his eyes as he searched for answers he could not understand. Once more my father was a step ahead, as his agent explained everything to Suzaku and set him up on the path to vengeance. He unmasked me via gunshot, in front of my most trusted and loyal soldier Kallen. Had I not been so reckless with my Geass I could've defused the situation at hand, but Suzaku's rage and my steadfast determination to rescue Nunnally clashed as he captured me and escorted me to where my bastard of a father was waiting eagerly. There I learned the horrible truth: that my father also possessed a powerful Geass, which he used to temporarily destroy who I truly was and make me believe I was someone else entirely. My true self resurfaced in time however, and with the help of Kallen and CC I was able to rebuild my Black Knights and begin a plan that would eventually create the UFN. Yes, I was the architect behind the United Federation of Nations…rather ironic, given what would happen later. As the Black Knights rebuilt and expanded however I became haunted by the evil side of Geass, as its serpentine tail led me down a dark spiral that left me to plummet into depression during the FLEIA launch at the Second Battle of Tokyo. My Black Knights betrayed me then, after discovering from my wretched brother Schneizel who I really was and sowing seeds of doubt and betrayal in their minds.

Having lost everything I intended to drag my father down into the darkest pits of Hell with me but instead learned so much more than I had ever imagined. There, having reached a temporary truce with Suzaku over our shared hatred of a Geass-empowered Charles Zi Britannia my own Geass reached the pinnacle of its evolution, allowing me to make a pact with the God known as the collective human consciousness to save humanity from my parents' intent. In the end I must've taken my father's Code away from him by force, just as he had done to the Code's previous owner in a long heritage of bloody deaths and betrayals. Though unaware of this transference at the time I continued onward with an altered version of my plan for world peace, only this time I portrayed the role of the villain to perfection. This was the goal of Zero Requiem: for the entire world to have a single, concentrated target of all their hatred (namely me), which a noble hero of my own invention would save them from. Disguised as Zero Suzaku finally got the revenge he craved so much, though with it came the cost of throwing away his own life and embracing the mask he hated even more than he did me. Even now he does exactly as I wish, keeping a vigil eye over Empress Nunnally in my stead and protecting her no matter what the cost. My friend, my nemesis, my knight, my killer…Suzaku, you and I certainly have had a strange relationship.

I remember the others as well…my Black Knights, shackled together to watch my final performance as I suppressed a grin at their shock: Tamaki, the brash fool who was the most loyal man I'd ever met; the Tianzi, too young to fully appreciate what was unfolding; Tohdoh and Xingke, military men who recognized Suzaku for his swordsmanship and forgot their stoic expressions in the revelation; Ohgi, the kind man who would succeed me as CEO of the Black Knights following Suzaku's refusal of the position; and Kallen…I can't help but wonder how things might have ended if I had taken her with me when the Black Knights betrayed me? If I had stopped her from leaving when she expressed her feelings towards me? Reflections of the past, that's really all I have left now. I remember seeing my old school friend Rivalz, his goofy attitude replaced by solemnity and pure disbelief; Milly Ashford, perhaps even now not regretting her family's decision to take us in; and my own dear sister Nunnally, who had been fooled by Schneizel into thinking me some kind of devil. In the end she seemed to understand what I had done, and despite the intense pain racking my body and the fading sunlight that would wash over my face for the last time I smiled. It took all the strength I had, but in the end I was able to convene one important message to her: "I destroyed the world…to make it…anew."

For a while all I could hear with my failing senses were Nunnally's cries, echoed by the cheers of the ignorant masses who had done exactly as I planned just as sheep always do. Finally even the sound of her tears faded into nothingness, and I was at peace with the outcome. Not only had my lies protected the will of humanity but in the end my greatest lie, my greatest act would bring the entire world to a peaceful future. It wasn't until hours later that my senses returned, however dulled they may have been. I found myself encased in a coffin, and given my miraculous revival it was only natural for me to panic at the thought of surviving a quick death only to succumb to a slow and painful one. In my mounting hysterics I was able to tap into a pool of energy I had never before noticed and kicked the lid clear off its hinges. Feeling the sway of an airship and growing more cognitive by the second I knew that someone within the Britannian top brass had decided that, tyrant or not, even I deserved a burial of some sort. Unsure of what had happened to me but not quite willing to share it with the crew I grabbed an emergency parachute, popped open the hatch, pushed the splintered remains of the coffin out of the aircraft then followed right after, landing in what I'm mostly certain were the Rocky Mountains of the Britannian homeland. With any luck the crewmen would be able to seal the hatch and would either blame poor luck or a resentful soldier for their former king's indecent "ceremony", and certainly chasing a revived Emperor would not count as a probable scenario on the list. After turning the coffin into a decent fire I began to notice a subtle advantage of being immortal: while I could still feel things, both hot and cold had reduced effects on my skin. That night I used only the shattered top slab of the coffin for firewood, flipping the box itself over and using both it and the padding as a makeshift bed. I'd survived worse and adapted, though it was admittedly uncomfortable when compared to the exquisite furniture I had been awarded as Emperor.

When I awoke the next morning, it was to the dull yet noticeable pain piercing my chest. Imagine my shock when I parted my blood-soaked robes and found a wide, still-open gash across my torso with a smaller gash coming out of my back! Throwing my usual composure to the wind I let out a blood-curdling scream at what I could see of the damage, thankful that nobody else was around to hear my cries as the wound continued to slowly yet miraculously heal. It was only after I had screamed myself hoarse that I noticed the bird-shaped sigil burning into my right hand, the dawning realization of what I had become flooding my mind. The Code…His Code. Perhaps it was the will of C's World, the will of humanity, that I would receive his code of immortality. Maybe it was the effect of using my Geass on C's World itself, my wish that the flow of time should never stop no matter how depressing the future may seem, that through some loophole of the vague rules of our unique powers I was able to steal away his Code in those last moments of his existence. Admittedly the criteria and guidelines involving our dynasty of Geass have always been unclear, each of us testing and surpassing the limits of our Geass powers time and again; why then was it so hard for me to believe that my theft of Charles's Code had been yet another of those secret rules involving our true lineage?

I tried not to think too much into it, instead thinking ahead towards my own future and the complications it would bring. While unable to be killed I still felt pain, so it would be unwise for me to pick fights based on my new state of being. Added to that was my infamy; even in this mountainous rural setting I had little doubt that people had heard of "Lelouch the Demon", so it would be tantamount to suicide if I were to let myself be seen. I remembered the last time I had been stuck in a wilderness setting, back when I had been trapped on Kamine Island with the others; almost instantly I knew that I would have to rethink my wilderness strategies, based on my failed attempts back then. Luckily there were some easily accessible fruit-bearing bushes in the area around the crash site; within a few hours I had already collected enough wild berries and vegetation to at least survive a day or two. Getting water was another story entirely: after turning my parachute into a harness and loading up my makeshift bed with the spoils I had found I walked for what felt like miles before coming across a clear stream and a few small woodland creatures taking their fill. Feeling an unusual surge of serenity I relaxed by the water, cupping water in my hands and quenching a thirst that had been building ever since my revival. Once my thirst was quenched and my hunger sated by the meager portions I had picked I got to work on another important ritual: I carefully took off my torn shirt and cloak and slid off my dirt-stained pants, then slowly began to wade into the stream. It was surprisingly deep for such a small river, allowing me to submerge myself to my waist before I stopped abruptly. With the scar still open in my chest, what complications would submerging myself below the wound have on me? Suffice to say I had never heard of anyone else having problems like this; even that damn witch CC had only been pierced partway when her predecessor had passed on the Code. Instead of taking the risk I cupped some water in my hands and leant forward, pouring the cold water over my hair and feeling the droplets cascade around my face and neck before once again returning to their source.

I continued to wash my hair in that fashion until I felt moderately comfortable, then returned to the shore where I hung up my clothes after giving them a decent scrub. As I hung up my tattered shirt I once more felt the sting of the wound across my front, an explosion of pain which led me to nearly rip the sleeve from my old uniform. It was as I looked down at my scar that the wolf took notice of me, but I had been so engrossed in pain that I had not noticed the other animals scurrying away. By the time I had finally become aware of my predator the wolf had already begun its lunge, its teeth sinking into my arm as I let out a massive scream of shock and pain. Unbalanced by the wolf's momentum I was knocked onto my back, leading me to feel another painful shockwave as a small rock on the ground had planted itself perfectly within the rear tip of my wound. The compounded pain of the wolf's attack, the rock and my scarring must've knocked me out, because by the time I finally awoke what had once been the zenith of daylight had quickly turned to dusk. The dawning realization of the wolf's bite returned to me, and despite my confusion at surviving while unconscious the logic center of my brain was still able to work out the need to thoroughly wash an animal bite. As I scrubbed the dried blood off of my arms I felt around for any scars the wolf had left, but stopped mid-scrub as I checked and double-checked my arms. Nothing, not a single claw mark or fang imprint, was evident on my arms! My blood beginning to chill I slowly lifted up my blood-soaked pants, discovering the same lack of any wounds I had not suffered prior to my death during the Zero Requiem. I suppressed a scream as I noticed the few scars I actually retained: a small scrape on my left leg from my childhood with Suzaku, a bit of shrapnel that had made a shallow cut on the tip of my right hip from when my Shinkiro exploded during the assault on Damocles, and of course the massive sword wound that was still sealing into what would no doubt become an admirable scar. Had it not been for my extensive experience with Code wielders and the unusual phenomena that seemed to accompany them at every turn I might've passed out from the rising panic that nearly doubled my pulse; as it was however I was able to keep my composure while grabbing my torn shirt from the tree branch it had air-dried on over the hours, tearing off the sleeves and turning the fabric into bandaging to hide my wound. I wondered briefly if being immortal also made me invulnerable to infection, but that thought was pushed aside as I pulled on what was now a comfortable vest in the warmth of spring.

Over the next few hours I walked by the light of a full moon, the dirt and blood making my once-regal attire unrecognizable. Every once in a while some animal would chance coming closer to me, before my human scent scared them off. As I crept up on dawn I finally came across a small sign of civilization: a small cottage, no doubt that of a carpenter's family or else those who desired a separation from the modern world. I watched, hidden by shadows and my own mud-soaked skin, as a powerful man in his late thirties walked outside in the first light. He silently closed the door behind him as he pulled an axe over his shoulder and moved closer to the trees where I stayed hidden. I would've moved to another viewing angle at the first sign of his approach, but my foot caught a gnarled root and I felt myself sliding once more into the dirt. Instantly I knew I had been caught: a sharp intake of breath and a soft thud as the man laid his axe beside him on the ground. I heard him inch closer to where I was, his movements honed with what must've been years of anticipating animal attacks, listening for any response as he called out to me. Acting quickly I tossed what was left of my tattered vest into the shrubbery and managed a decently believable pained cry for help; I was in intense agony after all, what with the wound over my torso. Hearing my reply the man raced over to where I lay, quickly but carefully wrenching my foot out from the root which had trapped it. With surprising grace he lifted me up and carried me into his home, and I will not deny that I briefly felt some contempt for this man's immense physical strength. As he stopped to open the door the man called out to his still-waking wife, who was quick to readjust her slipping nightgown as she rushed to the couch where the man set me down. "It's alright son, we'll call an ambulance up here as soon as we can. Honey, can you check his wounds and see if we can do anything for him? I'll go get some spare blankets and a pillow."

The man's wife nodded in approval, and as the man made his way up a spiral staircase I decided to try something I had not considered in my newfound immortality. As his wife finished opening my makeshift dressing I moved as if to wipe my brow, swiping away the specially-made color contacts CC had given me ages ago. Before the wife could say anything about my current condition I looked up at her and simply said "You will not notice anything unusual about my body, and forget I ever came here the moment I leave the house." At first I thought my attempt was in vain as the woman's eyes continued to grow wider as she prepared to scream. Not a sound escaped her throat however, and slowly but surely she closed her mouth and smiled down at me while replacing my bandages with gauze. "There you go, all better" she said with a smile, her eyes giving off that mild red tint that made me smile. As her husband returned she gave him a similar smile and told the muscular man that their young ward seemed to be alright save for a few cuts and bruises. For a second the man seemed doubtful, but thankfully he did not press the matter. Instead he propped me up and laid me back against a few pillows, setting down a stack of blankets beside the couch. "Alright son, you rest for a while and when you feel better I'll take you into the city. Must be someone out there who we can contact…any friends or family?" I bit back my initial retort, my pride nearly destroying this cover story I had worked hard to build. Finally I looked up at the kind couple, some part of me feeling remorse for what I would soon do to them. "No, my friends and I have split apart. As for my family…" I looked down and thought of Nunnally and Euphie, two of the few family members who had never truly wronged me; with their memory fresh in my mind I was able to fake a small stream of tears, enough for the husband to make the somewhat-accurate conclusion I had led him to. "I'm sorry" he said with an empathetic nod. "Is there anything we can do to help?" his wife chipped in, her husband gently setting a heavy blanket over my body. I looked up to the man, his kind eyes and wide smile further adding to the moral discomfort I thought long abandoned. "Actually, there is something you could do" I said, once again pretending to rub some nonexistent dirt from my eyes. As the man leaned in to hear my request I quickly removed the contacts and met his briefly-surprised gaze with my own Geass-infected one. "Give me your truck, and once I leave forget I was ever here.

It was more of a statement and less of the commands I had so often given using this accursed power, but it got the job done as the man smiled and helped me out of bed. As he handed over the keys his wife started to protest this sudden change in her husband's demeanor, but just as I had planned she became silent and immobile the very instant my feet crossed over the door frame and into the outside world. There she remained, her eyes glassed over and a smile forming from years of a blissful attitude, as her husband and I marched over to the driver's door. Once there he opened the door with an air of serenity, bowing almost as I nodded to him and slid myself into the worn-out upholstery and acquainted myself with the truck's basic driving mechanisms. As soon as I found the gear shift I gingerly closed the door and thanked the gentleman and his wife, only realizing seconds later what a moot point that was as they retained their blank stares and emotionless smiles. Cursing my newfound morality I quickly wrote an anonymous apology and stuck it in the husband's shirt pocket, before revving the engine a few times and tearing off down the mountain road. I watched in the mirror as the couple remained ramrod stiff, until a steep incline obscured them from view. A part of me wondered when exactly the Geass would wear off, since my most lethal of commands seemed to easily override humanity's natural survival instincts; hopefully it would not take too long to wear off, and even if it did a new part of my constantly-evolving plan would bring local law enforcement to discover them in their catatonic states and deliver them to the medical procedures necessary to prolong their lives. Finally content with my current edition of my makeshift plan (which a lesser mind would call Plan N or something similarly distasteful) I continued down the roughly-paved road, the bumps adding an almost rhythmic effect to the obnoxious drive. Twice I nearly impaled my stolen/borrowed transport upon the local foliage, but somehow I managed to avoid any major damage as I drove into the small city that lay at the foot of the mountain I had begun to see as my point of rebirth. It was still far too early for most sane people to be awake and mobile, so naturally I was the only one driving through the empty streets with disabled stoplights and boarded-up shops closed for the night.

Eventually I found a decent spot to park my stolen vehicle, right across the street from the city's police station. Obviously wherever I was had little in the way of organized crime or terrorism: the building had the look of disuse rather than vandalism, and it lacked the Knight Police division I had become so accustomed to in Area 11's Tokyo settlement. Area 11, I thought with a sad smile as I realized the arrogant mistake I had made. It was Japan now, free of the shackles my father had placed upon its people and free of the illusion known as tyranny I had later bestowed upon all nations. The past seemed dedicated to haunt me however, and even now I could barely grasp the sentiment of calling the island nation by its true name. A decade of slavery would do that of course, but it still bathed me in self-loathing. As I was caught in my musings I rummaged through the truck for a suitable method of notifying the authorities of my morally indecisive acts, finally finding a worn-out journal and a pencil lodged in its binding. Carefully removing the first third of the journal and the attached memories of the book's owner I inserted these pages I have been writing on, pages which had been part of some inquiry or review until their sudden descent when I had opened the cargo hatch all those hours ago. The pages fit well enough for my taste, and I thanked my impossible luck that the pen I had been using only ran out of ink at that point. I tore an extra sheet out of my new memoirs to write a confession of sorts to the authorities, mentioning only that this vehicle was stolen and where to return it. My luck took a turn for the better as I felt the muzzle of an ancient pistol press against my back, with the ragged breath and shaky movements of a mugger with no other options. As expected he demanded that I give him everything of value I owned, a notion I could not help but laugh at. No doubt questioning my sanity the thief grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to try and intimidate me, only to lose his nerve and his tongue at the sight of my face. Already fear and rage were overcoming common sense, so that despite our close proximity to the police station he let off a quick volley of shots. I simply stood there and took in the blasts, some small part of my body registering the pain but deeming it as a minor hindrance in my immortal form. If nothing else the demonstration of my immunity to firearms served to further amplify his terror, and as he began to unfurl his tongue in preparation for a scream I pulled aside my Geass-blocking lenses for the third time that day.

"Die" I said calmly, watching the terrified man's face as it contorted into one of pure ecstasy. Of course, Your Majesty!" the would-be thief said happily, haphazardly resting the barrel of his gun against his chin and pressing into his jaw as firmly as he could. A messy death further marred by horrible execution; obviously this man had never been given any proper firearms training. Sighing as the shot echoed I rifled through the man's pockets, taking his firearm along with his dirt-covered jacket and all the material goods he had acquired through immoral means. Obviously the man was involved in some underhanded deals with a local pawn shop: his wallet was full to bursting with an assortment of paper money, and in one of his pockets I found a separate collection of gold and jewels he had no doubt intended to sell. Having no use for the gaudy trinkets myself I tore another sheet from the book and explained how I had acquired these accessories, asking that the police return them to the victims or their next of kin. Grabbing a plastic bag from a nearby trash bin I stuffed the various trophies of past thefts into the bag and set it on the truck, placing the note underneath it so that the weight of the dead man's crimes would keep it in place. Thankful that these small-town police were much less organized than their Tokyo brethren I hurriedly pulled the blood-soaked jacket over myself, enduring the scent in favor of avoiding the cold winds that had yet to reach the mountain I had arrived from. Making a mental note to find a better source of protection whenever I found the chance I removed a decent portion of the dead man's ill-appropriated funds for my own use before tossing the wallet into the car. With any luck the couple I had taken advantage of could be reimbursed with its contents, unless of course the cops decided to keep it for their own gain. Sadly such a thing was far from unthinkable to someone like me, and I could only hope that these rural enforcers were made of superior character to the corrupt cops of the Britannian-era Japan. Letting that last thought sink in for a moment I took off down a back alley as the very first witnesses came upon the scene, chief among them one such officer who looked in the direction I had run too little too late as I continued to perform what eventually dawned on me were useless evasive maneuvers.

Finally I came to a stop, after only five minutes of swerving and avoiding any unwanted attention. I realized all too painfully that even in my newfound immortality I would have to work at improving my physical capabilities, holding my burning ribcage with my one hand while bracing against a wall with the other. Looking out into the street I could tell just how cloistered this tiny city was: only one car was mobile, and despite the fact that sunrise had already come and gone there were barely any people on the streets either. A small part of me arrogantly thought that maybe some mandatory service was being held to praise my death, but I pushed that thought away instantly with a shake of my head. There would never be any rites held in my honor, not even ones whose purpose was to defile my heritage and life choices. I would simply have to accept the fact that the world was doing its best to forget me, an act I would gladly encourage if it meant I could stop hiding in back alleys like the crook I had disposed this city of. Instead I made my way across the street to one of the few shops open at this hour, a local eatery that seemed only mildly worn down. Making my way to the counter I feinted a stumble as I removed my Geass contacts, ordering the staff to treat me just like any other customer as they gathered to check on me. Using the money I had acquired I bought a decent-sized meal and relaxed in one of the booths facing away from the windows. As I felt the joy of hunger vanishing I took stock of my inventory as it was: an old jacket, worn-out and covered in blood; a wallet filled with ill-gotten loot; and my own supernatural talents. Not an ideal collection, but one I could make use of. Looking up to no one in particular I took another bite of my food and smiled. "Now then…"