A/N: Greetings, Code Geass fans of all ages and nationalities! Merry Christmas to all! (all who celebrate it that is.) This is your author Knightmare Frame Razgriz here with an all-new three act epic, focused on the Japan Liberation Front. Or rather, what would happen if they were even the least bit competent as the Japan Self-Defense Force is today. This follows the main three canon events involving the JLF, with a great many twists of varying degree. There will be no Geass involved here; there will be no insane miracles like blowing up oxygen tanks at the bottom of the ocean or water pockets in the middle of a mountain. In this story, there are no insane miracles; only pure ingenuity, effective strategy, real-time tactics, and battlefield conditions, i.e. Murphy's Law is THE law.
Because they surrendered so early into the war after the death of Genbu Kururugi, the JLF maintains the majority of the surviving inventory of the JSDF, as well as equipment stolen from Britannian forces and purchased on the black market. I may or may not expand this into a JLF-focused AU of CG, but don't hold your breath; I have The Demons of the Mist that I should probably be working on right now.
This story will consist of three "Acts", primary segments, with smaller "Stages" contained within, which are the individual chapters. There will also be technical and/or organizational profiles at the end of each stage. And just an off-handed thing: there's gonna be a lot of scene changes. I mean like A LOT. You've been warned, so you just gotta learn to keep track of it.
Now, without further delay…
Let the games begin.
Act 1 – Kawaguchi
Stage 1 – "Why can we never come here on vacation?"
September 17th, 2017 ATB
Lake Kawaguchi Resort
2116 hours
It was a suicide mission, and the Japan Liberation Front soldiers all knew it. All except for their delusional commander, Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe.
There had been bets running on when Kusakabe would crack for a little over two years now, and the general consensus was that he had finally snapped the moment this convoluted massacre-in-the-making was even conceived. It was done totally without the sanction of the commander-in-chief, General Katase, and was even condemned to failure by the famous Tohdoh of Miracles himself. And just to spite them (or at least this was the unanimous decision,) the colonel had made off with but three rifle platoons and minimal supplies, and seized the resort to take the assembled Sakuradite Allocation Conference officials hostage.
All sixty men were sure of their deaths in this incident, if not by Britannia then by their own comrades if, by some miracle, they made it out alive. At some point during this operation, in either conception or execution (terrible morbid pun,) every man present had contemplated Seppuku, honorable suicide, to spare themselves the humiliation of execution by firing squads.
But, they all had decided, if they were going to die, they were going to do it with loaded weapons in their hands. And if they lived, each of them would take their turns at Kusakabe for dragging them into this everlasting shame.
So at the moment, the three platoon commanders, all of the rank of First Lieutenant, along with their Platoon Sergeants, were gathered in a suite discussing their plans to seize the operation and get out with the dignity, or at the very least their lives.
At the current, the apparent senior lieutenant, a former platoon leader in the defunct Japan Special Forces Group (SFG), was laying out the framework for the seizure and evacuation through his experience.
"… And so the first step would obviously be securing the tunnel by essentially blocking it or demolishing it," one of the sergeants summed it up, earning a nod from the lieutenant.
"Hai. Even with the Raikou cannon, we cannot guarantee the security of the facility if the Britannians start throwing Knightmares at us in waves."
"So could we potentially use the cannon to do the job?" another sergeant asked. The three officers, in unison, clasped their hands beneath their chins in the same thinking pose.
"If we loaded a shell with remote demolitions, we could send the round partway into the concrete of the tunnel ceiling and have enough time to pull back before detonation," one of them threw in his idea.
"Yes, but the tunnel is three and a half feet of solid concrete; would plastic explosive be enough?"
"If we didn't penetrate it, and even if we did, we would be using our entire stock of explosives."
"We brought four Type 84RR recoilless rifles, didn't we? Would we be able to use HE rounds to chip away at it before firing?"
Stewing on this, the SFG lieutenant stood up and walked over to the sofa, retrieving a laptop from his bag. "I can input the data into an engineering simulation program, but it will take at least half an hour to process." They all knew what this meant: thirty more minutes for Britannia to take action.
2132 hours
Britannian Encampment, Army Special Forces Subdivision
On the banks of the river sat the hastily-erected Britannian military encampment, where various branches of the service and their sections sat preparing their individual operations proposals for insertion into the resort.
The Army was the most fragmented, as the air services, separate ground divisions, and a single maritime-operations branch were preparing their ideas.
In the designated staging area of the Army Special Forces, the Green Beret commissioned officer (CO) staff was preparing its plan of action.
"Really wish we could just send in Delta and be done with it," one captain griped, earning him a smack on the back of the head by a major.
"That's for suggesting that our success depends on the anti-terrorism specialists," the man grumbled. He turned to face the rest of the officers. "Unfortunately, the Tokyo branch of the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta (SFOD Delta) is occupied with an extended operation in Nagasaki, hence their inability to offer their expertise at this time." As much as the SF regulars disliked the specialists, they were already wishing that the men were present for this op. It would've made life so much easier.
"So, do we have any fully-assembled ideas?" the Major pressed, since he was apparently drawing a blank. After a moment of silence, one of the dedicated tacticians of the unit stepped forward.
"Sir, I'm afraid we're too short on Intel to offer any sort of concrete solution at this time," the man said resolutely. "We hardly have any idea of what we're facing here; we have no numbers, no equipment identification, and very little time to work with."
The Major sighed tiredly, having known the answer already. "Well I guess we're going with the two basics; airborne and aquatic insertion." Just when he was about to signal the startup, a radio operator shot down his solution.
"Major, I'm afraid that the Army Airborne division and the Navy SEALs have already taken up both solutions."
Everyone sighed in defeat. "I guess we're spectating on this, then."
2135 hours
Britannian Royal Navy SEAL detachment
At the same time that the Special Forces realized that they had reached their conclusion too late, two Navy SEAL fire teams of four men apiece were preparing to make an aquatic approach. Each man was dressed in a standard-issue wetsuit and equipped with a rebreather and mask, with their combat equipment and ammunition sealed up in water-tight packs. Each held a Heckler & Koch MP5 suppressed submachine gun at the ready, along with an externally-suppressed USP .45 ACP pistol and two spare clips for each gun in the belts.
"Alright," the mission commander addressed both teams, "Fire Team Alpha will approach from beneath the south bridge and then insert at Waypoint Charlie, upon which they will clear any hostiles and proceed in through a side entrance. Fire Team Bravo will approach from around the back, near the docks, and clear any hostiles on that side before clearing the rear of the building and linking up with Alpha. Any questions?" Seeing shaking heads, he gave a stiff salute. "Godspeed to you all, then; stay safe, gentlemen." The SEALs nodded and made their way down towards the sandy shores, where they lumbered into the calm water up to their waists before diving in and disappearing.
2145 hours
beneath the main bridge
Unfortunately for the Britannians, the Japanese commanders (or at least the platoon leaders) had anticipated a water approach, and stationed a pair of former SFG operators on a concrete ledge beneath the closest section of the bridge to the resort, effectively hiding them in the shadows of the bridge.
Both were highly professional, dressed in urban camouflage uniforms and black balaclavas, laying prone on the platform with thermal goggles scanning the waters.
For five minutes, both had been watching Fire Team Alpha stealthily gliding towards the shoreline, the SEALs only pausing and coming up every twenty seconds to watch for soldiers. Clearly they were only utilizing shoddy night vision functions in their weapon scopes, as the pair of gunners had yet to be spotted.
The shooter of the pair slammed a round into the chamber of his Remington M24 sniper rifle, staring at the approaching enemy through a thermal scope, saddened by the concept of killing fellow special operators. Just as he made for the trigger, his partner placed a hand over the mechanism and shook his head, gesturing towards the Sumitomo Type 62 general-purpose machine gun by his side. The sniper paused for a moment before nodding, both agreeing to at least let the SEALs know what his them. Besides, due to the cover from the bridge, no one would be able to spot the pair's position, even if they heard the chatter of the gun.
Sighing deeply in sorrow, the sniper put aside his rifle and watched as his partner moved the MG into position.
The gunner intentionally dismissed the standard silent loading techniques, instead pulling back on the action loudly, internally wincing as the would-be infiltrators' heads snapped towards them and froze. He slammed the round forward into the chamber and moved his finger to the trigger, his partner bowing his head in shame as the 7.62 rounds went flying at the group. The navy men took one last desperate attempt to swim towards shore, but only succeeded in increasing their dead bodies' momentum towards the bridge support as the bullets tore into them. Putting out a full hundred-round belt to ensure no survivor's agony of slow death, the gun clicked as the attaché ammo box went dry.
Without a word, the sniper moved towards the steel rungs imbedded in the concrete, climbing down and towards where the dead bodies had floated and hit the side. He began the process of grabbing each SEAL's body from the water and hauling it up to where his partner laid them side-by-side on the platform. Carefully crossing each man's arms over his chest, the pair bowed their heads and then gave a military salute in respect to the dead, before retrieving all weapons and equipment. The dead had no use for guns and explosives, after all.
Same time
North Side quay
The docks on the opposite side where filled with yachts and security vessels in varying sizes, most of them owned by the individuals now held hostage inside.
Despite what most might anticipate, there was almost an entire platoon watching this area; and they had all received the message from their comrades about the aquatic specialists.
At the present, there were fourteen Howa Type 89 assault rifles, four Type 62 machine guns, and two M24 sniper rifles scanning the waters from concealed positions. In addition, one soldier was also positioned at a third floor window, operating a Howa Type 96 40mm grenade launcher.
Eight of the men were out in the open, playing the bait, while the others were hidden on the decks of yachts and behind planters near the doors. The snipers were both at second floor windows, their rifles propped on the edge as their scopes swept over the dark waters.
Down on the dock, one man imperceptibly turned his head slightly, and flinched as he spotted his mark: a slight ripple on the surface. He turned back and glanced at this comrade, placing four fingers across the guard of his trigger; four of them.
The other man nodded slightly and started spreading the word, wordlessly of course. Eventually, the signal was finally out, and everyone tensed as the four men underwater moved beneath the dock. Solemnly, the eight on the docks gathered around the spot and pointed their rifles straight down, looking to their concealed troops off to the sides to ensure that the enemies hadn't moved. Receiving confirmation, they all bowed their heads and pulled the triggers. Once all of their first clips were empty, they moved off to the sides and retrieved the floating dead, confiscating their weapons and equipment. The platoon sergeant begrudgingly made the call in to Kusakabe to report their success. All in audible range scowled as they heard the man's boisterous laughter.
2200 hours
Britannian G-1 Mobile Command Center
All assembled staff on deck glanced sharply at the main display screen of the command center as it came to life, with a camera centered on Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe.
"To the Britannian Military: your pathetic attempt at an aquatic infiltration has failed miserably," the Japanese man gloated, the camera switching over to the two separate pictures of the dead and disarmed SEALs lined up in a row on the docks. However, Cornelia noticed, each of the Japanese soldiers in the picture had their heads bow and eyes closed, their caps held up to their right shoulders in a respectful salute to the fallen. Her curiosity was belayed as the picture switched back to Kusakabe.
"Tread carefully, Britannian scum; I hold the life of your people in my hands, and all it takes is one order for them all to die." The screen went black as the transmission ended. The purple-haired princess clenched her fists and teeth at the threat.
'All of those innocent people…' she thought worriedly, before turning to the communications officer.
"Inform Airborne that their operation is approved; get in there!"
2230 hours
UH-60 Blackhawk
Three of the helicopters flew in formation, each carrying four soldiers apiece; all of whom were armed to the teeth, by special request of Princess Cornelia.
These twelve elites were the security party; the main force would be leaping from a C-5 Galaxy at 30,000 feet and performing High-Altitude, High-Opening (HAHO) jumps. Once on the roof, they would storm Kusakabe's penthouse headquarters and work their way down, eliminating everything between them and the hostages.
Flicking off the safeties of their respective weapons, ten M4 carbines and two M249 light machine guns, the soldiers prepared to fast-rope down onto the rooftop while the Blackhawks' mounted M134 miniguns shredded any opposition.
Same time
Resort Rooftop
On the rooftop, a squad sat in varying levels of disguise as the helicopters approached. Two of the men were former SFG operators; there was about a full platoon's worth of them in this op. Both of them carried Type 91 MANPAD Surface-To-Air missile launchers, the Japanese version of Britannia's Stinger missile platform. However, the missiles weren't for all of the helicopters.
When the first two choppers were within fifty yards of the roof, moving about fifteen feet above the surface due to the lack of noticeable opposition, the Japanese soldiers struck. As the Britannian soldiers began fast-roping down, their weapons slung to the sides during the procedure, the eight riflemen moved in on the spot and open fired, killing the minigun operators and grabbing the enemy riflemen straight off their ropes, tossing them onto the graveled rooftop and knocking them out. Through the procedure, the third helicopter had been circling, waiting for its opportunity to move in. One of the SFG troops took up his launcher and fired, hitting the helo's tail rotor and sending it spiral towards the water near the jetty. The seven men on the downed craft would be taken prisoner and given medical attention by the platoon below. Luckily for the Britannians, all would survive.
Apparently seeing the AA missile launchers, the pilots and co-pilots of the remaining two Blackhawks chose to set the craft down on the rooftop, stepping out the doors with their hands raised. They were quickly secured and put down beside the others, the entire group being secured by flex-cuffs taken out of the SEALs' kits. The rest of the platoon poured onto the roof and brought the newly-made POWs to their feet, hauling them off downstairs to be put near the other hostages.
On a barely passing thought, the other missile-bearer pointed his launcher skyward and locked onto the passing C-5, the missile flying up and slamming into the plane's wing, sending the cargo aircraft limping off back towards the base it came from.
2235 hours
Platoon Leaders' Suite
"By all accounts, I think we're doing better than most countries' Special Forces right now," the SFG lieutenant mused idly. The other two nodded with slight smirks, clearly impressed with their soldiers' performance. They turned back to the laptop screen, which they had been using to run through demolition and escape scenarios for the last hour.
"So we have the demolition mostly figured out; what about escape?" the lieutenant of the platoon on the docks, coincidentally from the Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF), asked.
"Fortify the position? Figure out what to do with those two helicopters?" the other lieutenant of the rooftop platoon, from the Air Self-Defense Force (JASDF) shrugged. The SFG lieutenant turned the laptop back towards himself and opened up a video chat program.
"Right now, at this temporary pause," he started, turning the screen slightly to let the other two see, "We solidify our position in this debacle."
The Japanese flag appeared on the screen, followed by the calm visage of Colonel Kyoshiro Tohdoh.
Same time
Narita Mountains
Japan Liberation Front Headquarters
The JLF leadership was assembled in the Eastern-style meeting room, basically standing around and bickering loudly as Tohdoh sat in the center of the assembly, sitting in the Seiza position on a tatami mat and trying to block out the white noise.
It was suddenly silent, and Tohdoh was about to praise Kami when a new round of indignant and angry shouting came up. He looked towards the source of the disturbance, the large screen on the opposite side of the room. There were only two words in place of the usual detailed location & caller ID:
Lake Kawaguchi.
"I swear, if it's that idiot Kusakabe calling to beg for support…" the miracle maker growled lowly. His less-than-friendly thoughts were stalled as the image came in as three soldiers, Lieutenants by the bars on their shoulders, assembled in what looked to be a middle-class hotel suite. The man in the center, an SFG man by the tab on his shoulder, looked to be the leader of the trio. He had short brown hair in a style like Tohdoh's; shining blue eyes, and was currently smirking confidently.
"Greetings, assorted superiors and comrades of the JLF," the man greeted cheerily. "You may know me as Ishitora Misato, First Lieutenant of SFG First Company, Fourth Urban Assault Platoon." There were a few hums of recognition. "Currently, I and my two comrades are plotting to kill Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe and get out of this hellhole in one piece; care to lend a hand?"
A few couldn't help but gape at the blunt admission and request, but Tohdoh simply started chuckling, before it grew into a loud laugh.
"Before we even consider offering assistance, Lieutenant; what have you to report?"
All three men on screen seemed to grin, visibly radiating with pride.
"Colonel, at last count we have killed two Britannian Navy SEAL teams, downed a Blackhawk helicopter and a C-5 Galaxy, and captured fourteen soldiers and six pilots… In the span of an hour." More gaping by the officers in the room. Tohdoh chuckled again.
"Alright, what assistance might we be able to offer you?"
"Currently, we need seventeen kilograms of demolition-grade explosives, three heavy assault Burai, and five Type 90 Main Battle Tanks."
He tossed Ishitora a suspicious look. "And that's all?"
"Well, some more ammunition and supplies wouldn't be unwelcome." The colonel nodded in satisfaction.
"Very well, have you secured a method of delivery?" Within seconds of this question, a digital map of Lake Kawaguchi and the surrounding area appeared on the screen beside Ishitora. He pointed to a spot on the north side of the lake, the only side without a bridge.
"I have sent out a squad that has secured a section of a civilian wharf; move in silently, and we'll create a distraction to draw attention to the front side of the area while we move one of the boats from the marina here over to retrieve the cargo. Actually, you have aircraft right? Can you bring over the Knightmares and explosives in VTOLs and just drive the tanks up?"
"We did capture a number of Knightmare VTOL transport craft in our recent raid…" an officer in the back of the room offered.
"And don't we have a few landing craft available?" another inquired.
"Well, can't we just seal the tanks with oxygen apparatus and drive them across the bottom of the lake? I'm pretty sure the bottom is bedrock…"
A number nodded in concurrence, and one used a computer to check the theory. "Very well lieutenant, the Knightmares and demolitions will be delivered under the cover of your forces. You lose the flight, you lose your supplies. Also, a number of tanks are currently being rigged for underwater travel and are being loaded in transports to be delivered to the specified location."
Ishitora bowed respectfully. "Your generosity will not soon be forgotten by myself or my troops." The link cut out just as gunfire sounded outside the window behind the three men.
2245 hours
Lieutenants' Suite
The transmission cut out just as muzzle flashes were seen out of the window. The Air Force lieutenant fumbled around for his headset.
"Sergeant, what the hell is going on out there?"
"It's the Britannians, sir! They're trying to attack with Knightmares across the bridge!"
"Dammit…" the Navy officer cursed, "To think that Cornelia would attempt something so foolhardy and bold…" There was a buzz from Ishitora's radio. He picked it up and keyed the mike, already knowing who it was.
"What can I do for you, Colonel Kusakabe?" he asked coldly. The tone apparently didn't translate through the line, because Kusakabe responded in his normal outraged voice.
"My problem, Lieutenant, is that I have three squads of BRITANNIAN SUTHERLANDS ON MY DOORSTEP!" he shouted loudly, forcing the three men to hold the radio away from their ears. "I want those bastards dealt with, and then we must begin sacrificing the hostages in order to punish those impudent fools for their idiocy!"
The three sighed in harmony; they had hoped it wouldn't come to this. "Understood Colonel, we'll address the issue swiftly."
"See to it that you do, or you'll be the next ones off that roof!" the line clicked, and Ishitora nearly crushed the handheld in an iron grip.
"That fat bastard has the gall to threaten us, while he sits in that fucking penthouse and thinks he can give orders?" he hissed under his breath. Slamming the radio back down onto the table, he retrieved his headset.
"Sergeant Kojiro, please deal with those Knightmares quickly… And then move a few men to the ground behind the cover of the foliage. We wouldn't want anyone falling to their death, now would we?"
"We certainly wouldn't like that, sir," the man agreed evenly. Apparently he had already caught wind of the Lieutenant Colonel's new order, and liked it about as much as his superiors.
2252 hours
Resort South Side
SecondPlatoon was quickly dispatched to the main bridge, all carrying anti-material or crew-served weapons. One fire team (half of a squad, typically five men) was charged with manning two of their only four Type 84RR recoilless rifles, while the other team shot M82 Anti-Material rifles. Four men from the remaining squad manned two Sumitomo M2 12.7mm heavy machine guns, two men per gun, and three others carried Type 01 Light Anti-Tank Missiles (LMAT; light missile, anti-tank) with tandem-charged 120mm HEAT rounds; while the remaining three manned a Type 87 tripod-mounted Anti-Tank Missile launcher.
Sergeant Kojiro Takeshi licked his dry lips nervously as he hefted a Type 01 missile launcher, trying to spot the Sutherlands in the darkness. He turned to the recoilless rifle crews.
"Mizore, Hayate, put a few Starlight shells in the sky!" The pair complied, and a volley of shells flew skyward before bursting into bright white lights. The bridge was illuminated, showing the twelve Knightmares sitting in the center of the bridge; apparently trying to sneak in closer before open-firing after their initial bursts.
Rifle shots rang out as .50 caliber AP rounds peppered the first four, a few finding purchase inside chinks in armor, and one shattering an exposed Factsphere. The blinded one's partner tried to raise his 20mm rifle, but found that a bullet had snapped the arm's hydraulic cables.
"You Eleven sons of bitches!" one of the Britannian pilots cursed over his speakers, charging forward recklessly, the entirety of his assault team following along.
"Shit, they're all charging!" a machine gunner shouted in panic, albeit lessened when the blinded frame swerved out of control and smashed into one of his comrades. "Well, that's two down…" the same man sweat-dropped.
Kojiro turned to the RR gunners. "Use Area-Defense Munitions! USE THE DAMN FLECHETTE ROUNDS!" he shouted, turning back to fire along with his comrades. All three of their missiles crashed into the same Sutherland, utterly annihilating the machine in a brilliant fireball. The others simply charged on through the smoke, now approaching firing range.
The gunners complied and high-velocity shrapnel was soon flying into the attackers. Although there was very little visual effect, the shards of lead were slicing up joint components and lodging into Factspheres.
12.7mm Armor-Piercing BMG (Browning Machine Gun) rounds were soon added to the mix, creating a very deadly maelstrom of flying lead. However, eight still remained, and they entered firing range.
A Sutherland opened up with its assault rifle, shattering one of the recoilless rifles with its fire and killing one of the operators. Another Knightmare also fired into the ranks of the snipers, shredding three of the five into bloody scraps and showering their still-living comrades.
The Type 87 responded in kind, firing its guided 120mm tandem HEAT missiles into both of the previously-offending machines. Down to half of their original numbers, the remaining six Sutherlands reformed into a single line and made a final fanatical charge.
"Mizore, switch to HEDP rounds!" Kojiro called out over the roar.
"But those are bunker buster rounds, not Knightmare-killers!" the gunner protested, "They'll damage the bridge!"
"I don't give a damn if they DESTROY the bridge, just DO IT!"
The man reluctantly complied and loaded the gun with High-Explosive, Dual-Purpose (HEDP) ammunition, and fired at the charging machines. Although it didn't hit them directly, the rounds created a small crater in the bridge in front of the Knightmares, causing three of them to be suddenly thrown off track and crash violently, only to be further battered by the avenging defenders.
The last three finally recognized their task as the suicide mission it was, and took a few final shots before starting to fall back. Of course, this final action was only met with all three being shot in the back and killed instantly, and the skirmish was finally over.
There was no cheering.
There was no slapping of backs or bear-hugging or hand-shaking.
There was only silence in Second Platoon.
Silence for their dead commander and dear friend, Kojiro Takeshi.
2310 hours
Platoon Leaders' Suite
"I was never one for superstition…" one of the lieutenants intoned, his hands folded beneath his chin as he sat with a solemn visage, "But I think this might mark the beginning of the end."
"What do you mean by superstition?" another inquired.
"There's an old urban myth among the Special Forces," Ishitora began, "See, back at the beginning of the Second Pacific War, six brothers from the Takeshi Clan joined the Ground Self-Defense Force; each was involved in a major battle of the invasion." He leaned back in his chair and set his boots on the table, sighing. "In each of the engagements, everything went fine until one of the Takeshi brothers was killed. Shortly after their deaths, the fight would begin to turn in Britannia's favor. And at the only engagement where we actually achieved victory, Itsukushima, not one of the brothers was present."
"Ever since the end of the war, it has been said that whenever a member of the Takeshi Clan is killed in combat, the battle will turn completely around," the first man finished, walking over and plopping down on the sitting area sofa. "However, with the death of Kojiro, there are no more living members of the clan in any branch of the service or any of the resistance groups."
"So now everyone believes that this marks the end of the Japanese, with the death of one clan involved in a crazy superstition?" the last man questioned in surprise. Both of his comrades shrugged.
"We don't have a sure idea of what it means; for all we know, it could mean that our misfortune is finally over," Ishitora offered up semi-hopefully. Seeing the still-worried looks of his comrades, he groaned tiredly and walked over to the other couch. "Wake me up when you two develop some optimism… or a plan to get rid of Kusakabe."
2330 hours
Britannian G-1 Mobile Command Center
"No…" Cornelia growled, as she saw that infernal terrorist Kusakabe's face appear on the screen once more.
"Once again, Britannians, your efforts were all in vain; and you have succeeded in trying my patience extensively," the Japanese colonel rumbled lowly, a scowl crossing his face. "Therefore, for every thirty minutes that our demands are not met, one hostage will be sacrificed." The camera switched over to one of a Britannian news network's trucks, no doubt acquired through amateur hacking. The picture zoomed to show two solemn Japanese soldiers in full combat gear holding a blindfolded Britannian man between them, standing at the edge of the roof.
"Don't do it, damn you… Don't you dare, you bastards!" the purple-haired viceroy hissed vehemently, as the pair whispered something to the man and peered over the edge. Seemingly nodding in self-preparation, one of the men backed off, while the other stood behind the hostage and shoved him over the edge.
"NOOOOOO!"
The view switched back to the penthouse, where the sadistic colonel was now smirking viscously.
"Time is running out, Britannia… Act while you still have the chance." The picture from the penthouse blinked out abruptly, but it was replaced quickly by a new video, of the man falling to his death… or so everyone thought.
The angle was from behind the trees where the man fell, probably from a handheld camcorder or a smart phone. The man kept falling… and slowly falling… seemingly even more slowly. Within a few seconds, he had slowed to barely a crawl, and by the time he reached three feet off the ground, he had stopped altogether.
Two soldiers came into the shot and removed the man's suit coat, under which was a harness of some type, connected to a nigh-invisible rappel wire. After getting him out of the harness, he was ushered out by another pair of soldiers, whereupon the camera zoomed in on the original two. Both were lieutenants by the bars on their shoulders. In the shot and just outside of the base, a light drizzle started, and dark clouds drifted over the area. Thunder cracked and lightning flashed off to the side, lighting up the picture.
One of the officers removed his helmet and black balaclava, revealing his short brown hair and blue eyes.
"Greetings, Britannia; I am First Lieutenant Ishitora Misato of the former Japan Self-Defense Force Special Operations Group, now of the Japan Liberation Front. What Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe carries out tonight is quite frankly disgusting, and in no way sanctioned by my superiors or comrades. He will be dealt with shortly. However…" the man paused and his eyes hardened. "Your soldiers have killed many of my brothers in arms tonight, and for that, we will continue our fight. For the honor of ourselves, our families, our people and our country… we will fight on. Britannia, you will not ever be forgiven for your sins. And for every drop of our peoples' blood shed by your country, you will pay for your crimes a thousand fold. Perhaps not now… but you Darwinist genocidal maniacs will pay. Japan will have her Divine Retribution… And with the death of Gunnery Sergeant Kojiro Takeshi tonight, the time for us to take our vengeance has begun."
It was a foreboding speech; this much was quite evident. And how the men managed to send this message out to the rest of the world without alerting Kusakabe was also a mystery… However, there may not have even been much life left in the man to be alerted.
2345 hours
Penthouse Command Center
Kusakabe wasn't mad; he wasn't angry; no, the colonel was downright furious. Of course, he was tied to a chair and being held over the edge of the windowsill, so he wasn't really in much of a position for anger.
He spied a corporal filming with a camcorder. "THIS IS PHOTOGRAPHED TREASON! I DEMAND TO BE RELEASED THIS INSTANT!"
Ishitora made a quiet tutting noise, as though berating a misbehaving child. "Now, now, Colonel, be silent and compliant; your death is currently being broadcasted worldwide, after all." He suddenly grew serious and approached the thoroughly-bound officer, setting a combat boot on the edge of the teetering chair as he reached forward ripped the ceremonial katana from Kusakabe's belt. "I suppose death by your own sword is symbolically tantamount to Seppuku, no?" He drew the sword from its sheath in one fluid motion and placed the tip at the man's forehead.
"Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe, you have shamed your country, your military, and your subordinates, all in barely three hours; your time of judgment has come." He stopped and closed his eyes softly, listening carefully as a low breeze blew by. His eyes snapped open, burning with a divine righteousness.
"The verdict has been reached, and I will deliver your sentence." The tip of the katana moved to the center of the man's stomach. "May the Shinigamideliver your damned soul to the deepest depths of Makai."
The sword was plunged into Kusakabe's stomach up half the length of the blade, and Ishitora's boot shoved the chair out of the window. The sword was smoothly removed as the body and chair flew from the top floor window, in plain view of nearly every media network in Area Eleven. However, this time, there was no harness.
Same Time
Britannian Command Center
"Good riddance," the Viceroy declared resolutely. She continued watching as the lieutenant raised the bloodied sword to the sky dramatically, and a flash of lightning came from the background. "Lightning…?"
"Your Highness, it appears there is a freak tropical storm brewing; it may cause severe rainfall and mild flooding for the next day or so," a technician reported. The new report elicited a sigh from the princess.
"Secure all equipment, have all excess personnel evacuated back to their normal stations; leave only the necessary units to maintain a cordon around the lake. It appears that our new assault will be forestalled."
"With all due respect, Your Highness, a new assault? Didn't these people just publically denounce and execute their tyrant leader? Doesn't that warrant some mercy, or perhaps even a pardon? They all seem like honorable and professional soldiers."
Cornelia just shook her head. "That's the problem; the professionals are always the most dangerous ones. They cannot be allowed to live." With this final declaration, she turned with a sweep of her white cape and walked out of the room. "I'll be in my quarters; the rest of you should get some rest. No one is going to be carrying out military operations in weather like this."
2400 hours; Midnight
Resort Ballroom
The princess was correct; no one had even entertained the notion of operating in these conditions. So instead, the JLF troops had released the hostages into the ballroom, which was lined with food and drink, under the condition that any who attempted to escape would be detained and put back in the storage room.
"Damn xenophobic Brits…" a Master Sergeant grumbled to his partner, who was standing on the opposite side of the doorway holding a Type 89 rifle, and sweeping his gaze over the ballroom floor. "We let 'em out to eat and drink, and all they're doing is huddling up and hiding from us."
"They've believed in their own ethnic superiority for so damn long, they fear the idea of men of another country having power over them for once," the other man elaborated intelligently.
"So should we just move outside and let the guys in the security booths watch the floor?"
"Nah; the biggest risk in a hostage situation: the hostages banding together and committing a mass suicide."
"Bah, they have too much fucking pride for suicide."
"There's still the scared little high school girls over in that corner looking like they've shit themselves at least five times," they all shared a chuckle.
"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna snag some food," the Master Sergeant finally decided, standing from his crouch and approaching a table.
"Get me a sirloin and some sake while you're at it!" one of his comrades called after him.
"Get it yourself!" he called back grouchily, snatching up a bottle of said alcohol and taking a short sip. However, in this action, he brought himself a little too close to the school girls.
"A-an ELEVEN!" one of them quietly shrieked, panicking and huddling closer to the corner. The other two girls moved in front of her to hide her from sight as they stared up at the NCO in fear. The man sighed.
"Look, you little runts, I'm only going to say this once: we're JAPANESE. East Asian, Japanese, or even by rank, that's how I'd suggest you address myself and the rest of my buddies. We are not numbers; we are human beings, and none of your emperor's Darwinist bullshit is going to change that," he announced, softly yet resolutely. The three girls looked utterly bewildered. However, before the man could say anything else, a sergeant walked over briskly and saluted.
"Sir, it appears that you have been drafted as a part of the team to retrieve the tanks, being that you were part of an aquatic infantry unit in the JMSDF," the newcomer explained, not even sparing the cowering girls a glance. The warrant officer nodded.
"I suppose it can't be helped," he sighed, massaging his forehead tiredly. "And here I haven't even raided the leftover appetizers yet."
"I'll be sure to save you a plate, sir," the sergeant replied wryly with a grin.
"I'm holding you to that, Ken," he grinned back as he made for the doors, grabbing a heavy raincoat offered by one of his friends at the door.
"Try not to drown before you get to the marina, Takao-sempai!" Ken called out as the doors shut. A loud grumble was heard before it faded along with Takao's footsteps. Ken chuckled and walked off towards another table, leaving the four girls totally confused; two at their continued presence of life, and one at the friendly and care-free attitudes of the Eleven soldiers.
Profile – Japan Ground Self-Defense Force
Organization (through company)
Fireteam: Standard five men - corporal
Squad: Two fireteams (ten men) - sergeant
Platoon: Two to Three squads (20-30 men) – NCO
Company: Three to Four platoons (60-120 men) – lieutenant
Standard Weaponry (Infantry – single-man usable, portable)
Assault Rifle: Howa Type 89 (5.56x45mm NATO)
Sidearm: Sig-Sauer P220 (9mm)
Machine Gun: Sumitomo NTK 62 (7.62x51mm NATO)
Sniper Rifle: Remington M24 (7.62x51mm NATO), Izmash Dragunov SVD (7.62x54mmR)
Anti-Tank: Type 01 LMAT (120mm tandem-charged HEAT)
Anti-Air: Toshiba Type 91 MANPAD (80mm SAM, heat-seeking)
Part 2 will be released some time either during or after New Years.
Merry Christmas from Knightmare Frame Razgriz!