Code Geass X Path of Exile
Legends of the Exiled.
Since most of the PoE community doesn't read fanfics so much I thought I'd give a small explanation as to what it actually is, since the majority of the people reading this probably don't know.
Path of Exile is a top-down action RPG with multiplayer elements, which include trading, arena, co-op and just a little more. it's quite similar to diablo 2, and i'm told it's what Diablo 3 should have been before reaper of souls. it's a great game, if a little complex but the lore in it is beyond fantastic.
I won't go into the lore much in this fic, if at all, but the mechanics and systems in which it function will be explained as much as possible when needed. If it isn't explained, it either will be when relevant, or isn't relevant.
That said, if you don't play the game, I suggest you give it a try, however I am obligated to warn you of reflect damage, annoying chromatic, jewellers and fusing orbs, as the RNG on them is terrible.
I plan on making more chapters of this, and have currently just written 2k words of ch2 whilst on the toilet, of which I shall now vacate. I also have a few ideas of other crossovers with PoE, one of which is RWBY, so some of my followers will likely rejoice in that. It will delve more into the lore, with absolutely no game elements, as opposed to this, which doesn't explain the game elements in any significant way. if you need help understanding some of the talk, such as 'dex node' I kindly show you to google, and the term 'PoE skill tree'... do try not to get stuck on it for a few hours.
Enjoy
Chapter 1:
Just a normal day like any other. Sunny skies, that tick of moisture in the air that preceded a rainy evening, a peaceful night, and a nice, cool morning, of course, that wasn't counting the ridiculously large sum of money currently being carried by a Britannian youth that was truly tired of life. Not because he was suicidal, not because he felt that he could achieve nothing, but because he truly felt that he was dead.
Lelouch Lamperouge was a man who had walked upon the battlefield, and it had changed him in more than just one way.
He knew that he was going to fight, and he knew that he would put the people through hell, over and over, just so they could achieve the freedom they deserved. What they didn't know was that they weren't going to be free just like that. True, if they pushed back Britannia, they'd be free for a time, probably a couple of weeks, should the Chinese or the EU not interfere the second Britannia was kicked out.
They'd likely send 'Civilian aid' and whoever was leading the charge would likely be dumb enough to believe them. And then they'd be owned by a different nation of slavers; treated even worse than before, as the only nation that was able to beat back a superpower long enough to taste freedom. To truly achieve freedom, they'd need to excite an almost world-wide rebellion, allying the former nations under a new banner, one that would stand and fight on its own, and eventually create a new superpower.
Truly pathetic, the resistance had become, He'd have to make his move soon, to alleviate his boredom, if nothing else. What a grind.
He set the suitcase filled with just over twelve million great British pounds, his winnings for the day, down in the footwell of his friend, Rivalz' sidecar.
To any other observer, even his friend, this was unprecedented; to earn that much money in a single day, much less just over eight and a half minutes was astounding.
There were just a few people that would be able to match the earnings of the number one anonymous chess player in all of Area 11.
And those people were the heads of the empire that waged a war around him for just under a month; while he waded and climbed through the dirt of the fields of blood brought on by the pristine and perfect nobles, so confident in themselves, so arrogant, that they never even thought of the lives that had been lost.
After the war, he'd often thought of various ways to alleviate his boredom, he already enjoyed gambling, so he'd used what little he had to slowly raise the stakes, knowing that he couldn't be beaten by anyone other than the best, and he knew that the best never involved himself in the gambling scene.
He'd quickly risen to the top 100 chess players in the country, and by sheer skill and time, he'd climbed his way up the ladder, all the way up to the first place, past a duke that had held the spot for over six years. He'd faced his cousin today, who was all too eager to blow his excess money on things he hardly understood.
Another hobby he enjoyed was inventing. True, he wasn't the best scientist in the world, but creating small, useful, and unique gadgets was something that took a large portion of his spare time. He'd started with a single thought, "I wonder if I can fix Nunnally's wheelchair." After he'd taken the thing apart to find the issue, he'd quickly gotten involved in a two day long project, that not only improved the machine to well over double its performance and power consumption, but it'd fixed the long standing issue of mild discomfort in the lower back that Nunnally was all too sensitive to. She'd thanked him profusely. He smiled at that, the little angel hadn't a single vengeful or malice-ridden bone in her body.
He'd expanded into having his own little industry, creating anything from sonar-glasses that helped blind people see, to a self setting chess game.
One final hobby he had, started as an innocent invitation from Rivalz, when the programming on Nunnally's Glasses simply wouldn't agree with him. He'd barely restrained himself from punching the wall, when Rivalz overheard his anger.
He'd invited him over to play a game of battlefield 3 where you either played as Britannia or an Area under it's control. Rivalz said that it helped his anger when he was younger, and that the hobby had stuck. Lelouch agreed to try a few rounds, and had grown to enjoy the gaming world.
Sure, he'd play the latest FPS with his friend, but his true love was with strategy games and RPGs. The strategies were obvious, He'd set himself against the strongest AIs the game had to offer, and had crushed them in but a few minutes. He'd moved further up to seven against one, and had only ever come close to losing. Of course, he'd played against some of the best players in the world, only ever losing a few times. The act kept him sharp and on his toes; ready to think his way out of any situation.
The RPG genre mainly appealed to him because of the slow gameplay, yet action-filled sequences that would sometimes put you against greater foes, and force you to think tactically, deciding between a stealthy attack, or an all out attack, One was far harder to do, but far less dangerous, and would likely net you less in the long run, but the other made his blood run.
It was ironic; really, he'd been living a game for just over two years now.
He'd been speeding down the motorway for a good two minutes now, calculating the amount he'd give Rivalz.
They'd agreed that Rivalz would drive him to the places he'd need to be, and in turn, he'd pay for his tuition. The blue-haired teen had agreed fairly quickly, but Lelouch always through an extra percent or two in as a goodwill. He had money to burn after all.
Having decided, he looked down at his phone, before starting to budget his latest winnings, 3% for the best doctor in the Area, 6% for his, Rivalz' and Nunnally's tuition this year, 2% for Sayoko's monthly wages, at least 5% for Milly's crazy parties, 12% for his inventions, 8% for food, water and other material needs for the school's cafeteria, 10% to add to his gambling budget, 2% for Rivalz' excellent driving, and 2% for splurging on whatever they needed. The remaining 50% would go to funding his future black operations.
Just as he hit enter on his phone, a massive truck forced Rivalz' to swerve the bike to their right, allowing the massive vehicle to pass by with nothing but a little scraping of their tires. The driver of the lorry, seemed to have a little slower reaction-time than Rivalz and himself, as the dodge around the teenagers forced the lorry out onto a construction site.
Lelouch, having told Rivalz to stop, looked over the several tonne machine with an analytic gaze, not missing a single detail, it was armoured, and the glass was likely reinforced, judging from the fact that only a few minor cracks could be seen, rather than the standard spider-webbed pattern seen when regular glass hit a steel girder at well over city speeds. It also maintained its structure, rather than bending, again, like laminated glass would have done.
He quickly got out and ran down the road that was now blackened by burned rubber. Ignoring the jeering looks from the crowd that had gathered around the scene.
It wasn't an issue to squeeze past a massive steel support beam that blocked his view of the passengers. And even less of one to confirm they were ok. The window was only cracked on the left edge, and the airbags had successfully deployed. Seeing as he couldn't get any further details from where he was, as banging on the window did little to wake the unconscious Japanese, Lelouch snuck past the beam once again, and climbed up the side of the truck, as the ladder was undamaged. The truck lurched, just as he was going for the next step, and the force, coupled with his pre-existing momentum shoved him upwards and over the edge of the hole in the roof, sending the Exiled prince inside what was presumed to be a terrorist vehicle.
Slamming his back against the wall, Lelouch immediately began thinking. Cool heads prevailing was something he'd learned since the day he was born, having only a few rare moments where his emotions overtook him, before he'd gotten into RTS, proving that, once again, rushing into things half-cocked and with no plan wouldn't help with anything.
Gunshots, Terrorism confirmed. The Britannian police weren't exactly mild when it came to dealing with the numbers, but they enjoyed gloating over elevens in cells more than they enjoyed killing them, at least. Minor offences would be met with a response from the police, anything larger, and they had a single unit from the knight-police, reasonable, considering their radical nature.
Terrorism, on the other hand, was met with an iron fist, which, considering the military gunship that was chasing them, meant that the large container he had migrated to was a whole lot more dangerous than the medical supplies the TV had claimed it was earlier.
Getting back to the thoughts preceding his current train, he thought back to the people inside the lorry.
Two passengers, too small to be an efficient terrorist group that could pull a heist capable of taking whatever object he was leaning against. Judging by the size of the container, and the extra cargo In the very back, there had to be at least another member to get it all in, most likely the inside man or the poor sap that had to infiltrate whatever facility they stole from. A leader that watches from the rear and commands through the radio, and a distraction team of at least two people, and one person back at base, to welcome them home. That puts their minimum group size to six. Assuming their leader was on the front line with the rank and file, that would put the distraction team at two people, two for the drivers, one designated infiltrator, and one home operative.
Provided they made it to the nearest ghetto, this would be his chance to strike back. The military would respond with a full on strike, considering the roar of a Knightmare VTOL system, which, if he played his cards and abilities just right, that meant that he could take his first real step towards area 11 being free again.
Lelouch heard a noise, just as he was finishing his first sequence of analyses.
Reacting with the speed of a professional StarCraft player, he quickly ducked behind the large container the terrorists had stolen, a slight shrieking sound coming from the contact between the slightly damp rubber soles of his school shoes and the smooth metal flooring of the truck.
The woman that passed him didn't seem to notice the sound, giving him an extra two seconds to scan her features, something the lighting of the steel beams had prevented. He'd seen the driver, but only enough to deduce their heritage.
Between 1.60 and 1.70 m in height, red hair, chin length, shoulder if straightened, Thin, yet muscular, 50-60 kg, depending on muscle density, and fat percentage.
She turned in reply to the driver, and he saw her eyes and face.
It was contorted by anger, but it was clear to him exactly what she looked like now.
Cerulean eyes, smooth features, stern face, but with a hint of softness, overall, a face and figure men would kill for. But young, alarmingly so, and only looked a little Japanese, a quarter, or possibly a half, if she leaned more towards her Britannian side.
The lights in the back of the vehicle turned on, and he could now see why they had the expanded version of the lorry.
It wasn't an extra container, as the low light initially made it seem, but a Knightmare, Glasgow, to be exact. And rusted, red paint tried to cover it, but it was no use. The machine before him had clearly been bought second hand, if that.
It was the same colour as the girl's hair, likely signifying her favourite colour, or simply stating that the machine was hers to command, a personality check could wait for when he had more than a few seconds to analyse her entirely based on the fact that she wouldn't be getting away as they initially hoped, though they did plan for the eventuality that they could be caught. Excellent, This meant that their leader wasn't incompetent, entirely, at least.
And command it she did. In an instant, one helicopter was down, and another soon followed. The only reprieve the third pilot got was the incoming pair of Sutherlands behind them, transported by the VTOL jets he'd heard earlier.
He only saw her jump out and avoid a strike from the other Knightmare, before the doors closed, however a tiny bullet hole allowed him to continue watching. Considering that he had nothing better to do, since his abilities required more than a bullet hole to look out of, and attempting to incinerate the door would reveal his identity, it seemed like the best thing to do.
She was an excellent pilot for sure; easily among that of the Britannian elite, possibly the knights of the round, however that theory would need to be tested in an adequate machine, as hers was slowly beginning to fall apart. Her slash harken malfunctioned, and her arm had to be sacrificed to cover her retreat.
Lelouch took a brief view of his surroundings, before retreating back into the truck.
From what he could see, the Viceroy's palace was behind the lorry, with Tokyo tower to the left, meaning that he was headed north. The largest ghetto to the north was Shinjuku, a likely place for the terrorists to hide, considering it was a cesspool of na'er-do-wells and criminals alike.
The light disappeared, as the truck swerved once again, this time ducking into a tunnel too low for knightmares to follow, the Sutherland model at least; Glasgows could duck down slightly, and could likely fit if they sacrificed their paintjob in certain areas.
The frequency cut from his phone, and the repetitive bumps causing the lorry to shake meant that he was in the old Japanese subway lines, which meant that they were almost there.
He took a moment to calm his mind, and concentrate on the map of Tokyo he had drilled into his mind.
Judging by the bumps, which were every two metres, the frequency would indicate that he was going just over 70 kilometres per hour, telling him that Shinjuku was just under two minutes away.
Just then, the truck lurched, pushing him forward, only stopping, as he laid back, and stopped his momentum by planting his feet on the far wall. Injuries were something he didn't need at the moment, and despite his healing, a broken bone would still cost him precious moments to recover from, grabbing onto something could also have dislocated something, though his method wasn't completely risk-free, it was the safest.
He looked up to where the hatch had been, only to see it blocked, it wasn't viable to get out that way, so he had to either pry the side or back door open. The back was stupid, since Britannian soldiers would definitely already be on their way. The side still bore that risk, but it would be a smaller contingent, and they'd likely be sending out honorary Britannians to find the lorry, giving him a possible opportunity to escape, if he worded himself correctly.
Mind made up, he prepared to incinerate the door, only to find it open, and a foot flying alarmingly fast towards his face.
Reacting with the speed from his extra dexterity node he needed that one time, he ducked under the strike aimed at his face, forcing the enemy to fly over him harmlessly, skidding on the metal floor of the lorry, facing him.
An effective move, it was a near guaranteed hit, with quite a bit of power behind it, and should the enemy dodge, it would leave the user facing their enemy.
The attacker jumped again, and Lelouch was forced to block, melee wasn't his strong suit, as he knew that he would be facing knightmares, and punching them wouldn't do much, no matter how much force you could transfer to your hand.
He'd gone full fire damage, throwing crit modifiers out the window for more damage. It would have slightly less potential, but he'd prefer the extra reliability it brought to the table, especially considering his luck.
"Why would you go against your own country, terrorism only hurts the innocent." The soldier accused, now on top of him.
Oh how he wanted to use Flameblast on the bastard. Sadly, it would diminish his pitiful life reserves. His life was far above that of the average human, but it was still far below its maximum potential, and even at a single charge, Flameblasting himself would be a very painful experience.
"I'm not a damn terrorist," he spat, though that would only hold true for so long. "Though I could ask the same of you, honorary Britannian."
That shocked the soldier long enough for Lelouch to actually use his pitiful melee skills, his blow connected with the soldiers abdomen, sending him off, and allowing Lelouch to stand.
He grimaced, as he felt his face being lit by the reflection of the lorries headlights.
The soldier freezing just proved it, he'd seen his face, and now he'd have to die.
He was about to lift his hand, the familiar heat of a fire spell in his hand telling him that it was ready.
His thoughts stopped, just as his blood froze when he saw the soldier's face.
It was Suzaku, that naïve, idiotic, martial art obsessed, moron, that he just couldn't help calling his friend.
"Lelouch, it's me, Suzaku." The now identified solder said, a smile on his face.
"Suzaku, why did-" He stopped when he saw the capsule open, and he prepared a fire spell to incinerate whatever was held inside.
He was stopped from doing anything, when Suzaku pounced on him, pushing the gas mask over his friend's mouth and nose, protecting Lelouch from what was likely to be toxic gas, judging by Suzaku's reaction, at least.
That was proved false, as the truth of the container was revealed, and it was quite the sight, and equally as dangerous as Lelouch had guessed.
There was nothing inside but a green haired girl roughly his own age, covered in the tight constraints of a Britannian prisoner's garb.
He pushed his analytical side aside for a second, Suzaku falling off him with it.
Immediately, he began to move the girl over to the edge of the truck, a far easier place to remove her restrictions.
She was beautiful, and well developed for her age. She looked barely fifteen, but the lines on her face attested to what had happened to her.
The pattern matched exactly to that of a torture victim's.
He idly noted that, when he started to unstrap the girl's face, allowing her to speak once again, had she not been unconscious.
"She's been tortured." He said, causing Suzaku to look up in mix of horror and shock at his friend's statement.
"What, how?" was his undignified response, as he moved over to help with the girl's restraints.
"Despite her age, which looks to be around fifteen or sixteen, she has clear lines on her face, though they don't match that of a person frowning constantly, nor that of someone smiling, they match that of someone who would do nothing but scream all day."
He opened her eyes, to see them slightly red, the edges of her tear ducts swollen.
"Her eyes show signs of crying as well, she must have been under a lot of pain." He tilted her up, and felt along her back, which was smooth, her stomach had the same feel, and there were bumps on the inside of her elbows. Given his knowledge about Britannian torture methods, and their love for flogging, he was able to successfully say that she had received none.
Leading to one inescapable conclusion.
"Human experimentation," Lelouch spat, leaving Suzaku with a shocked face.
"You can't mean-"
"Very good." An unknown voice interrupted, causing the two teens to audibly crack their necks at the speed they turned. The light coming from the APC behind the group of soldiers prevented a view of the soldiers' faces, but their silhouettes were enough to deduce their station.
"The royal guard, damn." Lelouch muttered, only to be immediately followed up by the central figure, likely the leader.
"You managed to deduce not only the fact that she wasn't tortured, but that she was part of a human experiment research program, very well done, I am impressed, so sad that you'll have to die here because of it." He raised his gun, his joining the rest of the impromptu firing squad's.
"But sir," Suzaku spoke up, interrupting what would likely be the leader asking about their last words.
"He's a civilian, you can't just-"
"Is that insubordination I hear, eleven?" the man interrupted, his gun now facing Suzaku.
"N-no, sir, it just that… he's Britannian, I." He hesitated; about to continue, only for the soldier to interrupt him again.
"Then you will shoot him." Suzaku looked back, and Lelouch could see the sad smile on his face, he likely knew where this was going.
He clenched his fists, as Lelouch prepared to use a fully charged Flameblast on the bastards.
"I'm sorry sir, but I can't shoot a civilian."
All too quickly, the soldier repositioned his gun, and shot Suzaku in the back.
His anger reached a boiling point, as he stood, preparing to unleash his entire mana-pool simply to fry the bastards.
It was only his 75% fire resistance that allowed him to survive, as the truck behind him detonated.
Almost instantly, he ducked down, avoiding the remainder of the sweltering flame, grabbing the girl and pulling her out of the fire.
He'd only just remembered the camera on the APC before he decided to run, it was likely streaming directly to the G1 in command of the area, and he couldn't reveal his powers without a mask, the illumination of any fire spell would cause his face to be seen, allowing the guards to track and find him and Nunnally. And that was completely disregarding the lights from the APC.
So he ran.
And he only stopped when he was well over a kilometre away, panting in desperate need for oxygen.
He wasn't the most fit individual in the world, but he did do his exercise, and his extra points in strength and dexterity allowed him to run far further than he would normally be able to.
Not to mention the extra 52.3 kilos he had been running with. He was glad she was slightly under the average weight variable for her height.
She was waking as well, he noted, probably a mix between the explosion and the wild jostling she'd been doing while in his arms.
He relaxed slightly, as he cracked his back, and looked at her properly.
She wasn't scared, which was weird, considering her circumstances, rather, she seemed bored, with a hint of curiosity.
He walked over to her, and began to undo her remaining bindings.
"Once I'm done undoing these, I'm going to get you out of here. There's probably a full on cleanse going on above ground right now, which means you're going to have to trust me, I've got a place where we can lay low, but it's quite the distance."
He released the last buckle, and the girl nodded, both in thanks, and in acknowledgement.
C.C. was still out of it, and she didn't exactly want to come up with any plans of her own. She had the devil's luck, and she'd been in a Knightmare more than a few times, but it wouldn't be enough with the various drugs still addling her mind.
"Over here." Lelouch whispered, using his phone to look around the corner, seeing a set of stairs that lead upwards.
C.C. idly noticed the burned school attire on the boy's back, and the burned flesh beneath it, though it was slowly healing, something C.C. found very odd. She didn't feel a Code in the boy before her, and Geass was only mental in origin, which meant that this person had something completely different.
Interesting.
A loud barrage of gunshots instantly stopped her train of thought, as she flinched at the sound.
She'd been in battle more than once, but the tight, concrete walls really provided quite a different experience.
Not a moment later, she could hear the whimper of a baby crying, only to be silenced by another gunshot.
She didn't want to admit it, but even in her age, the sound of a child's last sounds was one of the only things that still jerked at her heart-strings.
Not a moment later, they were both pulled from their flinch at the sound of a faint buzzing sound.
Instantly, the buzzing stopped, and C.C. realised that it came from the boy's phone, she couldn't blame him, really, since he likely didn't predict being pulled into battle, and had therefore forgotten to turn it off.
She didn't have any more time to think, as gloved hands tore them both from the stairs.
She was held against her will, while he was slammed up against the wall, more than a few sets of guns aimed at him.
"Again, an excellent show, you managed to evade us for over twenty minutes, truly, the Britannian line runs through your veins, however distantly." The guard spoke, mocking the boy, who was… smirking?
"I couldn't do it earlier, but since the camera's gone, there'll be no link between my identity and my powers." He laughed, and a cold shiver ran down her spine, she could feel the power within him building, and she could tell that she was not immune.
"What are you talking about, boy," The guard asked, and Lelouch simply smirked again.
"I've been wanting to do this for just about as long as I've had the pleasure of knowing you," he said, raising his hand, his palm facing the guard.
Instantly, the guards erupted in flame, as three streaks of immolating blue were forced from the boy's palm.
Within barely a second, the only things remaining of the guards were piles of scattered ash, blue flames still lingering atop them.
The remaining guards let go of C.C. and almost instantly, they were cut down, a set of small, white-hot flames spewed from the boy's raised hand, hitting the guards without fail, boiling them on the spot, causing the expanding bodies to explode, and the smell of bacon to waft around the room.
C.C. grimaced briefly at the smell, only for a Knightmare to burst through the side of the building.
She heard the boy mutter a muted, "oh for fuck's sake," before the Knightmare's speakers sounded,
"What are you here for, where's the royal guard." The boy was quick to respond, and she had no illusions that it wouldn't be a useful skill in the upcoming day's events, If her suspicions were correct.
"I don't know, ma'am," he started. showing respect to the military, and showing at least a modicum of knowledge would earn him instant point with whomever he was trying to convince. "They were escorting this woman and myself out of the ghetto," He briefly looked at her, as if reassuring her that his lie would work, but at the same time, telling the pilot that she was to come with him; a perfect double meaning. "But we looked back for a moment, and lost them. Please, My name is Alan spacer, my father's a duke, and I need to get out of here." That was one hell of a fib, C.C. noted, and somehow, it seemed to be working, as she could hear a brief mutter from the pilot.
Not ten seconds later, the pilot came out, a gun pointed at the boy.
She didn't even manage to see him move, only the bright flash of an orange streak, before the boy was in the woman's face, his hands around her throat, flames licking his shoes, and scorched earth between where he'd been and where he was now.
"Give me the code, or I cook you alive."
Intrigued, C.C. walked up to her, idly speaking her mind.
"It's best that you do, those piles of ashes are from the royal guard."
But still she resisted, it would appear Britannian interrogation resistance training got better over the years.
And just as she could see the boy warming up another bout of flame in his hand, she rested her hand on his arm, stopping him. She grabbed the woman by the throat, and forced her up against the Knightmare's leg, forcing her off the ground with the strength granted to her by the code.
A few brief moments later, the woman was foaming at the mouth, and bleeding through the eyes.
"XG21G2D4" C.C. said, dropping the woman on the ground, before grabbing her gun and executing her.
"Interesting." The boy mused, "So there are more than just me with powers."
That told C.C. just as much to him as it did her. They were both equally unknown to each other, and introductions would be necessary for their continued survival. Well, his survival, at least, though she did have a few compunctions against being captured and tortured again.
"C.C.," she said, extending her hand, which was deftly met with his own.
"Lelouch," was the short reply, as the hands shook. Despite what he'd just seen, he wasn't afraid of her, physical contact or otherwise. Either he thought that she couldn't drive a Knightmare, and needed him, or he simply wanted to show that he at least believed that she wouldn't kill him.
"Wanna drive, or should I." Lelouch said, holding up the Knightmare's activation key.
C.C. simply raised an eyebrow, she was a good pilot, and she knew that, but it was Lelouch's time to show her what he was truly capable of.
Accepting the reply, Lelouch simply grabbed a hold of the Knightmare's stirrup, and gestured for her to do the same.
Within a moment, they were both seated comfortably within the confines of the Sutherland's cockpit. It wasn't designed for two originally, and a glasgow would certainly reinforce that point, but britannia had to rescue numerous stranded pilots in the field, and a slightly larger cockpit was a small price to pay for the safety of their higher-ranked officers.
He pushed the key in, and typed the code with gusto. With a muted whirr, the Knightmare started, and he immediately scanned the battlefield, before beginning to moving to a safer location.
As they moved to their chosen position, Lelouch began to explain. "The terrorists are in as large a bind as the britannian soldiers. I just checked the news on my phone, and they're not saying anything other than traffic restrictions, which means they can't call in reinforcements. The terrorist faction is likely in the same situation, as, from what I saw earlier, they don't have the manpower to draw in more combatants, even if they did, Clovis has the ghetto surrounded. it'd be just as hard to get in as it would out."
Lelouch began undoing his blazer as the temperature rose, pulling out the previously looted radio from his breast pocket.
"The enemy doesn't have the terrorists' IFF signal, if they even have one. Based on my earlier calculations, they have a minimum group of five, excluding the driver, one currently in a Knightmare. The Britannian forces know that they are in roughly three areas. Here, here, and the Glasgow, which is on the move." He said, pointing to the various flags. "The two groups of enemy knightmares surrounding the ground forces are the closest to the Glasgow, if we destroy the ones chasing it, chances are that they'll be forced to find out why, despite their imminent victory. This allows me to make my next move." He said, tuning the radio he'd pulled to the right frequency.
"Move to the west entrance." He said, to which a surprised yelp replied.
"Who are you, how'd you get this code."
"That doesn't matter, if you want to win, then you're going to have to trust me."
She had to admit, this boy's way with words was quite excellent, he spoke with just the right amount of urgency to get her to listen, and the carefully picked words were the ones she needed to hear. Not to mention that his tactics were top notch, she'd have to wait and see if he had the strategic mind to back it up, just like he did all those years ago.
Her thoughts were proven correct, when the enemy flag swerved, and the Britannian pilots moved to follow.
He tuned the radio again, simultaneously setting the sutherland to the radio signal he was just using.
"There's a train headed for the west entrance, it's marked as armaments, Head there and I will guarantee your victory."
"Who are you?" A voice on the other end barked, and c.c. absently noted that Lelouch's japanese was as good as his english.
"Someone with enough resources and expertise to ensure that you and your friends get to live another day." he spoke, calmly.
"Fine." the message that if they were betrayed they would take Lelouch with them went unsaid.
He checked the radio's battery level for a moment, before performing a system administrator login on the knightmare's settings.
"What are you doing?" C.C. asked. normally, she'd be a sort of silent advisor, occasionally sarcastic advisor, but she felt that it wouldn't work on the boy before her, so for once in almost two hundred years, she decided to ask the reasoning of to what he was doing to the knightmare's core settings.
"Modifying the IFF signal, I have to short out it's broadcasting array, while maintaining power to the receiver in order to overload the system, which will allow us to receive enemy movements, while not giving away our position. the two are on the same board, so I have to be careful which gates to power down, and which to overload."
She supposed that it made sense, it would give him a significant advantage, not only having just his force invisible, but also himself.
"What now?" the voice asked, as Lelouch looked at the friendly marked train, and smirked.
"Jump up onto the train, I'll take it from here."
He smiled, and closed the menu, causing the screen to flicker for a moment, before going back to normal, only showing that the main transmitter was damaged, and the backup was offline, effectively rendering them invisible.
The unidentified pilot forced her Knightmare to jump, the oncoming train forcing one of the enemy frames to stop the massive behemoth.
The other jumped over its ally, and halfway up to the train, only to be forced out of the air by a pair of slash harkens.
"Identify yourself," The man inside the first Knightmare spat, angered by the display of friendly fire.
"We're after the terrorist in the Gl-" he didn't get to finish, as rifle fire peppered the frame, the now speeding red Glasgow forced the pilot to eject.
"Thanks, bu-." The girl muttered over the radio, but she was cut off by another command.
"That train is marked with an armaments designation, you will open it with your Knightmare while I move to join you, the rest of your group will be with you in roughly twenty seconds."
The Knightmare was already gone when Kallen looked at the building it was previously in.
Wordlessly, she began pulling the doors of the train off, only to smile widely, with the happiest look she'd had in a long time.
"Knightmares." She muttered over the radio, repeating herself a moment later.
"The train, it's carrying knightmares." Her voice was enthused, and almost gleeful, and she could tell the voice was excited as well.
"Excellent," The voice responded, "We'll need them in the upcoming battle."
Just then, Kallen could hear the familiar ring of Ohgi's voice.
"Kallen."
"Did he contact you too?" she asked, turning her Knightmare.
Ohgi simply nodded.
"He said that he'd provided an opening a moment ago, told us to run at full speed here." He started.
"I don't know why, but he helped us, saved us, even."
Just then, a large metal hand grasped the side of the railway, immediately followed by the sound of the unknown commander's voice.
"Don't shoot, it's just me." The voice came again, as a Purist Sutherland pulled itself over the edge, its weapon holstered.
Immediately, it started pulling more panels off the train, gaining the resistance group's attention.
"Get in, and follow my orders. If you don't then stay out of my way," the voice echoed. There was a brief discussion, and Tamaki was about to tell the voice something stupid when Kallen shot him down.
"He saved my life, yours too, I think we should give him a chance."
Almost instantly, there was a nod of agreement, and Ohgi spoke up.
"We'll follow your orders in this battle. But if you lead us to our deaths, we'll make sure that we take you with us." His tone was firm, and his confidence was showing in his straight posture.
He wasn't lying.
"Very well. Suit up; we've got another two minutes before the enemy arrives."
Kallen smiled slightly, if this guy was legitimate, then they might just have a chance to fight back.
"Woman in the Glasgow, Your temporary designation is now Q1, make sure to swap your energy filler, you'll be running decoy, so I need your codename to be distinctive. The rest of you," he began pointing at them in the order he spoke. "N1, N2, R1, R2, B1, B2, P1, P2, P3, P4, P5. Follow the orders given to your designation, and prepare to fight." A moment later, the cockpit opened, ant a sliver of green hair could be seen, before it disappeared into another Knightmare.
"My designation will be K1, This is K2; She will be second in command for the duration of this mission."
There was a brief pause, before a voice responded on the local comm system of the Knightmares.
"I've set up a private comm server, it's better quality than handheld radios." She was right, Kallen noted; the voices seemed clearer, and far easier to hear.
"Excellent," the now younger, yet harder voice sounded, "jump off the edge and smash the supports of the bridge on my command. The enemy will be here in sixteen seconds."
The last Knightmare started up, and they all jumped off the side of the railway, preparing to beat their new enemy into the ground.
Guerrilla tactics were effective against knightmares with regular footmen, so it was no surprise that it worked even better when the soldiers doing it were several tonne walking tanks with the agility of a motorbike, capable of levelling building with just a few punches, rather than the copious amounts of shaped charges it would normally take.
There were over sixty Knightmare pilots that learned to fear guerrilla tactics that day, and another seventy that didn't.
That was the day the terrorists of area 11 grew to respect the man known only as K1.
It was also the day, however, that they learned to fear the white reaper known as Lancelot.
It started shortly after they had collapsed almost the entire ghetto below the Britannian pilots.
Lelouch was smirking, there was no doubt about that, he'd levelled twice already, and was progressing well on his third.
He'd been commanding his own group of people, and it was oddly similar to commanding a squad in the various FPS games he had played, only that these actually did as he ordered on his first go with the squad. The human element was something he hadn't forgotten to account for, and it showed. Twice already he'd had to relocate units to take care of an unknown factor, it was only thanks to the formation he'd specifically chosen that both P3 and P5 could be saved.
That didn't save the all out slaughter that had just begun, as he was frantically commanding units to fall back and move forward, attempting to guide the latest threat to an ambush he'd hastily set up.
It was moving according to plan, but it was simply sweeping his units aside, rather than following them. At this rate there was likely already dissent among his troops. He'd have to reassure them after his next few commands.
"P1, move back another twenty metres, and prepare to fire. N2 stick with R1 for now. He's almost in the trap." There were some mumblings of assent, but they were muted, like this wasn't going to work.
He'd been watching how the shields had worked, and he'd been waiting for this exact moment.
He mentally counted down, as he exited the Knightmare's cockpit, and prepared his most devastating attack yet.
"K2 keep the white Knightmare coming for another nine seconds, everyone, make sure he stays inside the ring of fire, and you stay out." He said, as he felt his mana strain for a brief second, before it stabilised.
"Ready."
Just as he'd predicted, C.C.'s Knightmare was dismantled, and her cockpit shot off just as the unknown white Knightmare entered the area of his fully charged Flameblast, Backed by no less than three power charges.
The knightmares all began firing, and the white demon blocked the shots effortlessly, only having to spin slightly to keep the shots from impacting where the shields could not cover.
One more second, and the knightmares in the circle all backed an additional metre away, revealing the ring of orange, glowing letters, licked by fire.
"Boom," Lelouch said, as the incredible, near-instantaneous jump from twenty to six thousand degrees Celsius forced the knightmares systems to overload, The metal protesting massively, as the entire frame went into heat shock, before starting to melt, creating a grotesque, half cracked, half melted visage. Lelouch had no doubt that the pilot was unhappy, trapped inside an oven that would slowly cook them alive.
"Move, Clovis is bound to be sending reinforcement or retreating, we're taking the fight to him." His words seemed to shock the terrorist out of their amazement.
He couldn't blame them for their inaction; they were fighting their very first victory against Britannia, and had even crippled one of their latest inventions, probably an advanced prototype for the sixth generation, possibly jumping straight to seventh, if Lloyd Asplund was the one heading the project. Albeit, he helped, sharing the victory with an unknown group, but so long as they believed him Japanese, or at least trustworthy, they likely wouldn't mind; Being on the battlefield alongside them would also help put him in their good graces, allowing more trust a lot faster.
He pushed the pedal down further, as he sped around a corner, shooting a surviving Britannian Knightmare down in his path.
He couldn't help feeling a tiny bit sorry for the Britannians that were forced to fight the same day that he was, they were simply outmatched in strategic capability, and with their armaments being exactly the same, though with less in number, they were simply swished aside like the dust at the end of a bookshelf.
He watched, expressionless, as another Knightmare was forced to eject before Q1's superb piloting skills, not even bothering to fight, as both its allies had been dismantled in less than twenty seconds.
A smile graced his lips, though, as the G1 came into view, though it wasn't retreating, which was strange. He'd expected Clovis to pull his forces out, at the very least, though he supposed that his brother's pride would naturally be higher, as he'd had people telling him exactly that for the past five years he's been viceroy.
He knew that his brother didn't even want the position, but he was forced to take it by the emperor, the bastard that even assumed he was allowed to be named a father.
He dashed the thought of the man he hated more than any other; he'd been planning this fight for years, and he'd need his mind clear for the rest of the encounter.
Contrary to popular belief, a G1 mobile base was nowhere close to impenetrable, it had literal tonnes of armour, sure, but the windows were still glass: a grenade in the right spot, and the glass would crack, a Knightmare's fist later, and a group of three or four could tear the whole top off. Ironically, it was designed like that, in case a royal got stuck, the G1 fortified against enemy attack, friendly knightmares could swoop in and extract VIPs with little difficulty.
He ordered Q1 to fire a grenade just under the left window divider, and with a massive crash, and a small fireball, the window formed spider web like cracks, and the terrorist-controlled frames leapt upon the massive vehicle, throwing their tonfas at the glass, shattering it, likely wounding the command staff, should they not have hidden behind the throne.
Within an instant, the entire top of the command room was ripped off, the shriek of metal causing the staff to wince. On top of the already terrified expressions on their faces, caused a rather interesting combination that, quite frankly, made them look constipated.
Lelouch stared down at Clovis through the screens of his Sutherland, his eyes bore the slight look of sadness for a brief moment, before turning cold, any emotion left turning to pity, while his face morphed into a sneer.
He put on the helmet of the Britannian soldier's outfit he'd nabbed somewhere along the line, and began to get out.
The Sutherlands with him seemed a little confused, almost aiming their weapons, but he assured them that it was simply a disguise. He wasn't lying when he said that they'd get to see his face when the time was right.
He walked purposefully to the throne Clovis was seated upon, the pistol C.C. had taken from Viletta clutched firmly in his hand. When he raised it, however, it didn't face the prince, nor the staff, instead, he shot the cameras that were still active, only after that, did he gesture C.C. to his side, Villetta's gun finally pointed in the prince's direction, though it would do little, compared to the several Knightmare assault rifles also facing the prince and his staff.
As C.C. removed herself from the Knightmare, Lelouch finally spoke. "Viceroy, it's been far too long, however before we once again get acquainted, I would appreciate if you would call a cease-fire."
Clovis didn't even hesitate, he simply picked up the radio with shaky hands, his fear showing in only his eyes and body, never his voice.
As he called out to the troops on the battlefield, Lelouch could only smile, as he'd been almost as nervous on the very same battlefield, on the very same day, and had been forced to sound confident, despite when ground was lost to Britannia.
Though, he always had backup plan upon backup plan, even as the situation was forming, and the battle grew more intense, his mind threw more and more plans of escape into the mix.
He would never trap himself, with no way out, whether it would be because of his powers, or because of his own planning, he would always have a way out. He would run, and would not dwell over it, but he would never be taken alive without a way out.
As soon as the broadcast was over, he shot the two guards that were still holding weapons against his person.
He had no doubt that the bullets would simply bounce off the minor energy shield he possessed, leaving him uninjured, but it would be far too annoying to explain to his troops, should they see the slight flaring effect that it gave off.
The soldiers fell to the ground as the echo of gunshots rang throughout the remainder of the room, a hole between each of their sets of eyes, near-perfect precision, impressive, even compared to the best Britannia had to offer.
The moment it happened, one of the staff officers drew his own pistol, only to drop it with a yelp, as the sound of another gunshot marked the spray of blood coming from his arm.
This time, it was C.C. that had taken the shot, the gun she held facing between his eyes, telling the officer that, if he tried anything again, he would join the guards that were sprawled on the floor, lifeless.
Lelouch smiled, as he walked closer to Clovis, his pistol pointed towards the prince's head.
"Everyone other than the royal here is to vacate the premises and locate themselves in the van parked on the other side of the street, you will be transferred to another location, where you will await interrogation. If you do not comply, you will die." The various staff gathered paled, as a shadowed figure dropped from the remainder of the rafters, revealing a set of knives clutched in her loose fist, the mask over her face showing she was none other than a graduated Kunoichi, one of the few fighters that fought until their lives were all taken, even after the war.
To think they were still around scared the staff more than they cared to admit, as they followed her out; each Kunoichi took out over thirty of Britannia's best, dwarfed only by the remaining samurai, such as the infamous Tohdoh, who still roamed free.
"Now Clovis, as much as I want to interrogate you on personal matters, this revolution needs a leader, someone the people can trust. And what better way than to show them that not even their viceroy is safe from my retribution. K2."
As commanded, though she'd never admit that, she nodded, and aimed the gun she held towards the prince's right knee.
A shot echoed, and a scream of pain tore through the air, as prince Clovis, third prince of the imperial Britannian empire shrieked in agony.