"And thus I clothe my naked villany / With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ / And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."
- Bad Gandalf
"Nananananananana."
- Clarence Boddicker
The fabric of Arielle's skintight pilot finery folded into a tiny crease near the bottom left side of her ribs. She leaned forward in her seat and pushed the throttles to send her Knightmare Frame into a full gallop.
It had started with the Star of Madrid rebels invading the palace grounds and trying to usurp the beloved princess. It was about to end with the punishment they had wrought for themselves: A hidden battalion of Vincent units to ambush them and turn the scene into a mass summary execution. Arielle almost thought of it as a slaughterhouse for human cattle, but even that would have given too much respect to her enemies. There was nothing human about them. Traitors to the monarchy were nothing more than unruly farm animals.
Arielle launched out of the shadows along with five dozen other members of the Glinda Knights. Together they were some of the most skillful KMF pilots in the entire royal guard. The Geass that had been appointed to Arielle's mind inspired her to the best swordswoman she could be in addition to sealing her in an iron-clad sense of loyalty and devotion to her princess.
Most of the rebels dropped like flies in their stolen outdated Sutherlands, but a handful managed to survive the first 30 seconds of the massacre. Arielle's individual squad made their way for the Sutherland piloted by Marirrosa. Another team of Knights out singled out the Sutherland piloted by Fernando, the rebel leader. The two central figures of the Star of Madrid were sister and brother. They were a blight on the world that had been born from the same uncultured she-savage. It was only fitting they were going to be purified together.
As the original operator of the Amanecer, Marirrosa was considered one of the most abhorrent globs of refuse to have risen to the top of the Madrid scum. Dealing with her required a trifle of extra caution. Arielle moved into formation with the rest of her battalion like lions surrounding a helpless gazelle.
They had each been given an important role in Marirrosa's punishment. They had studied KMF cockpit models and human anatomical diagrams extensively for the past several weeks to ready themselves. Arielle was responsible for suppressing the left kidney. Nikita would clip off an arm, Sophie a leg. Camille would shred the intestines. Agnes was going to be working somewhere around the pancreas. Eponine would take out the liver. Anything that could be stabbed, sliced, or squashed without instantly bringing about Marirrosa's demise was open game. The Knights had been ordered to bend and twist her mortal coil before she shed it completely. A proper medieval execution made even more fearsome through modern Britannian technology. Unrestrained Dark Age brutality crossed with a controlled demolition.
Staining her Vincent's lance with the innards of a worthless traitor was disgusting work, but there were more unsavory tasks Arielle could have been assigned to. One of the girls in the squad that had been tasked with pacifying Fernando was expected to thrust into the cockpit from a very particular angle and rupture the pilot's scrotum a second before the rest of her squad bisected him at the torso.
Arielle had to wonder what would be going through Marirrosa's mind in her final moments. She knew she would be punished by death if the rebellion failed, but would she have ever anticipated she was going to become a biology lesson on how much passionate Britannian justice could be delivered to a human body before its primary functions ceased?
Arielle activated her Vincent's life scanners, allowing her to see Marirrosa as a glowing outline within the Sutherland. It was difficult to lock on to an exact part of the anatomy while her KMF dodged back and forth and her outline squirmed about in senseless resistance. Arielle shook her head and tapped two of her fingers to her visor.
In addition to providing them with a small degree of anonymity and hiding the effects of the Geass in their eyes, the visors worn by all of the Glinda Knights allowed them to highlight specific items of interest in their field of vision. Arielle could see the exact spot she needed to strike in bright alluring red.
Fernando was the first to fall, his cockpit breached and his KMF impaled skyward. The sight of her brother being mutilated before her eyes was enough to send Marirrosa plummeting into shock. Her Sutherland stood motionless on the palace courtyard. Now it was her turn to pay for her insolence.
The Vincents in Arielle's team attacked together in an elegant synchronized lunge. The tip of Arielle's lance crashed through solid resilient metal before firmly planting itself in something soft and inviting.
A bloodcurdling scream crescendoed through the comm channel, spiking over the volume threshold until it distorted into deafening white noise. Arielle had hit her mark perfectly.
"Target destroyed," Arielle said in the eloquent voice expected of a Britannian lady. "All Hail Princess Marrybell."
"All Hail Princess Marrybell," the rest of the pilots in Arielle's battalion chanted in unison. Each one had performed her own successful strike. They were like a choir of angels providing an accompaniment for Marirrosa's static-filled wails. Their lances were like flagpoles representing the might of Britannia. Marirrosa was the virgin soil they had claimed.
The crumpled, shattered metal of Marirrosa's cockpit block fell to pieces, opening the canopy and putting the pilot on display in her horrid state. For those few brief moments she was still alive, Marirrosa's wealth in indescribable agony nearly rivaled Marrybell's wealth in extravagant riches and political influence. It was marvelous how many KMF lances could fit into such a small and fragile sack of flesh.
The laces that held Marirrosa's pilot suit together split apart as her arm flew away in crimson mist. The bustier of her uniform flung open like it had been tied down to two overfilled trebuchets. A pristine pair of breasts took center stage in the middle of the bloody carnage.
Arielle became uncomfortably conscious of her own feminine etiquette for a split second. She reached for the collar of her Britannian pilot gown to make sure everything was fastened snug and secure.
After 7.8 seconds of glorious retribution, the traitor's screams stopped abruptly. The New World colonies may have failed in their revolution to secede the empire, but Marirrosa's entrails certainly didn't fail to secede the insides of her belly.
The last of the rebels were being rounded up and purged when the palace's searchlights spotted two dueling KMFs just outside the gardens. Lyre was in his Vincent Gram defending against the only remaining hostile unit: the Amanecer. There was only one person who could be the pilot.
It had been months since Oldrin left the Glinda Knights and became a turncoat for the Star of Madrid, but perhaps this would finally be enough to convince her whose side she should swear fealty to. She was the only one the princess would ever grant the smallest modicum of mercy. The only question was, would they be able to wash the Madrid stink off of her after they welcomed her back?
Arielle swiftly pulled her lance out of the Sutherland's cockpit with a wet thlop and tossed the unrecognizable hull of the machine into the spotlight. Marirrosa's filthy three-quarters-naked carcass spilled out of the wreckage and rolled beside the pieces of Fernando, where it belonged. The disgraceful sow and her hideous boar brother, together for the whole world to see.
Author's note: I'm actually a huge fan of the blood eagle but I couldn't think of a way to make it fit in the source material.