Chapter One
Lelouch Lamperouge, master of the art of strategy, stared across the wooden table toward the chess master's frozen and haunted expression. He watched the old man's facial ticks with amusement and some degree of cruelty. I have him now, he thought, grinning inside victoriously as he imagined the money that he would win from this match, and the humiliation. It was so overwhelmingly pleasing that Lelouch had to force himself to keep a mad chuckle emerging into the silence of the room.
The old man looked up suddenly, a defeated gleam in his eye that told Lelouch everything. "You have won, I think," he said softly, "I have been beaten by a twenty year old, a man a quarter of my age. Can you believe, Mr. Lamperouge, that I have been studying chess for over sixty five years?" The old man was weary. He struck a cigar and puffed, and drank the last of his brandy in one gulp.
"You play well," Lelouch said, "But I saw through your strategy quickly. You give yourself away with the overall movements of your knights and place too much emphasis on your queen." Lelouch took the offered cigar with a small nod and had the maid light it for him as he waited patiently for his opponent to take in his message.
He nodded, understandingly, "That is correct, you are correct. Okay then, what were the terms of our bet? I will pay you thirty thousand European dollars now, and thirty thousand later, will that suffice?"
Lelouch thought for a moment as he dragged on the cigar, the taste of apples and cinnamon filling his breath. Nunally is not going to be happy at the stink on me, he thought.
"In cash," Lelouch said, "And I want it now, all of it."
The old man smirked suddenly, his eyes flashing with barely restrained rage, "You think you can order me around in my own home? You may have won this game, but do not think you will get your money by being rude."
Lelouch's eyes narrowed as he looked around in caution, his photographic memory taking in the room and everything within, its patterns and arrangements, escape routes and hidden caches. Everything in a single glance. The old man had three body guards in black suits and dark sunglasses, and one of them had a gun strapped to his waist, a shiny and hard looking gun that Lelouch knew would blast a hole in his chest. And the guard looked dumb enough to use it. He would not escape this situation through brawns but when had he ever relied on physical strength. He thought about what he knew of his opponent and thought about the main reason he had come. Yes, everything was going according to plan, albeit with a bit of rearrangement and correction here and there. The body guards were glaring at him. Lelouch could see he would not get his money right away and then quickly thought of a way he could, strategy upon brilliant strategy presenting itself effortlessly, like the unveiling of a rose, the scent that Nunally liked the best.
"I do not need money, exactly. You have something of far greater value," Lelouch began in what he thought was an arrogant and noble tone. This was the actual reason he had come here and if he was enjoying the thrill of it, he did not show it. "Your nephew, Lloyd, is one of the greatest scientists in the world, I am sure you are aware and proud of him for that."
The old man nodded with a guarded expression, his eyes a miasma of human hate and pride stung pain, "Yes, that is true, so what of it though? Is there anything he can create for you that would please you more than the fortune you shall receive from me?" He began to grin at that, as if sharing an inner joke with only himself. Lelouch could see through it like glass, and would break it just as easily.
Lelouch nodded, smiling gently and looking serene, "His mind is brilliant and he has been known for his eccentric projects. One of which is his study of ESP powers, specifically a project known as 'Code Geass.' I want details of this project. I know you have contacts, you have the power to get me this information." Lelouch stared down his opponent with cold eyes, and he knew he had won before the game truly began.
"Code Geass," The old man muttered to himself. "I have never heard of it." He took another drag of his cigar, blew it in Lelouch's face, and then put it out on the chess board. The wood singed underneath the flame before being put out.
"I hadn't either, until two days ago," Lelouch explained, "When I met Jeremiah Gotwald, leader of the Purist Group. He was most forthcoming about details under the heavy sleep of hypnotics and liquor." Lelouch need not have told him that, but he did so to show that he was not helpless and would not be intimidated. He knew if he showed weakness it could go badly for him. That was the Britannian way, strength, no weakness.
"You drugged him," The old man said flatly as if in disbelief, but Lelouch could not read his eyes, "You drugged one of the most powerful people in the empire."
Lelouch shrugged, and turned his gaze toward the old man's bodyguards. He glanced toward the door, the message was clear. If the old man wished to know more about Code Geass, about Lloyd's new project and how it would get him out of a sixty thousand dollar debt with some commoner named Lelouch Lamperouge, then so be it, he would have to dance to Lelouch's tune. The old man looked at his bodyguards consideringly and gestured for them to leave.
They sat in the room for a long time, planning. Lelouch spoke and told all he knew, or almost all of it. The project certainly sounded intriguing, being as it was about the unexplored, the alien, and yet Lelouch and his opponent were born skeptics, and each knew there was nothing without proof. Proof talks and bullshit walks, that was the key message in the scientific community and Lelouch had learned his lessons well. He showed the old man proof, records on a floppy disk that needed one of those old computers of the last century to use. They were allies for now, but neither trusted the other.
Mr. Archebello gave him his money and told him to have a nice day. Lelouch looked at it and shook his head, asked for more.
Lelouch looked into the old man's somber eyes and repeated his plan with all the integrity and confidence he could muster. His charisma shined in his words. "I think that if you follow me, you will find what you are seeking," He murmured looking out the window at the rain. "Don't think I know not about your true ambition."
"Oh?" The old man said, and then he shook his head back and let out a roaring laugh. But Lelouch noted the man's shoulders were tight with strain and stress. He wanted to smile but held himself back, because he was almost there, close to victory. Now was the pivotal moment, the breaking point in winning this man's loyalty.
"You want your nephew to follow your footsteps as a chess master, instead of a scientist. I can convince him to do so," Lelouch said, "Because I know how to win and influence people."
"I can see that," The old man said, "And yes, I hate science, I hate it with the bottom of my heart's most energetic disgust because it has taken something away from me. Indeed it has taken something away from society, its grace, its innate beauty gone in the world of blinking digits and technology." He sneered. "So overrated, so useless in the end. Chess on the other hand is an art form, a way of sharpening the mind and bringing cold fury to discipline your heart, master your emotions. If one wins the inner game of chess with oneself…"
"Then he wins the world," Lelouch said softly. "My father used to repeat it to me often."
"Well he ought to, seeing as it is one of the favorite phrases of the emperor himself," The old man said. "If you can convince my nephew to resign his evil ways of sience, his unglorious and cowardly tinkering with the knowledge of the forbidden fruit, then I will see what I can do to get you the information about this project you are so interested in."
"The Code Geass Project," Lelouch said, "Yes, thank you Mr. Archebello. You have been of immense help to me, and I will no doubt convince Lloyd to venture upon new paths, paths not trodden by scientists except for those eccentric individuals who possess the touch of the power of gods, the genius of kings."
"What do you mean?" Mr. Archebello said, slightly suspiciously. "The deal we have is that you will have Lloyd take up chess and give science to those who are lesser then us."
Lelouch shook his head, "Chess is something one must find for himself, and if Lloyd eventually comes across it, if the game lights his inner fire then perhaps something can be done about him following in your footsteps."
Lelouch stood up, and the rain seemed to pound ever the harder outside. "I need to get going now. Do you agree to the terms? I will get Lloyd to give up science eventually, but I need results from you."
Mr. Archebello stood up as well and looked into Lelouch's eyes, silent as a rock. Then he finally nodded and they clasped hands.
Mr. Archebello paid him half the money in European dollars. It was a fortune as a sakuradite mine had been discovered in Eastern Germany deep underground that had sky rocketed the entire EU's economy.
Lelouch did not have an umbrella. He cursed his lack of foresight, even as his mind went over the previous week's weather patterns, sunny and bright and now sudden rain. He was not one to take stock in bizarre situations as something superstitious, but even he had his limits. Sudden weather patterns corresponds to sharp changes in the Earth's magnetic fields, he reminded himself, which is part of what is the driving force for the research into Code Geass. So perhaps this weather pattern anamoly is related as well?
He touched the wrist watch Nunally had given him as a graduation present, a flash of gold gleamed in the darkness of the rainy evening. He glared at a passing cat and wondered what it would taste like. He was going insane.
No, he laughed aloud as he pondered his dilemma. He was taking this project too seriously. Relaxing his features he strolled out the parking lot of the mansion of Mr. Archebello and walked swiftly down the street, looking for a taxi cab that could take him back to the hotel. He wanted to see Nunnally bright and happy tonight before she turned in, and he never could wake her, disturb her peaceful sleeping expression. Perhaps he was a bit of a sucker, a bit of a romantic, a bit soft and emotional rather than hard and cold, but he had his edges and he had his softness and there was nothing wrong with that.
He caught a cab and sat in the seat, smelling the faint stench of cigarette smoke that lingered in the cab. He wanted to smoke one right now but he had given up the habit two months ago. He was feeling healthier because of it, but right now at times like these when he had gotten his money and gotten a contact with Mr. Archebello, he still felt like he lost something. Maybe I'm losing my humanity. He certainly knew drugging Jeremiah was not right, and was very risky. Nonetheless he succeeded and he got information, which he used. As expected of the progidial son, but never as good as Schniezel. That was harsh but true. He had never won – the furthest he had gotten with the second prince when they played chess was a draw.
He sighed as he looked out at the weather, which seemed to match his mood exactly. What happened to me, he wondered, I wanted to destroy Britannia and I am no closer to my goal than when I first declared it.
The cab driver was an Eleven, and he looked tired at this time of night. Still he did not try to make conversation, perhaps he was too intimidated, Lelouch thought.
At the hotel, he met the owner who was sitting at the counter and reading the latest newspaper. He had a portly body and a red face, a moustache that was far too large and eyebrows much too dark and hairy. His eyes were little brown beads fully focused on the newspaper. The headlines read, "Britannia Conquers Another Area – Area 18" and that pierced Lelouch's mind with the sharpest pain – the taste of failure lingered in Lelouch's mouth.
"Lelouch," Nunally said when he went up to their room. She looked relaxed, but there was a certain tension around her eyes that he recognized for stress. Was I worrying you, he wondered, but did not say aloud.
"You came on time," She said with a slight laugh and wheeled her wheel chair toward the door where her face morphed in a gentle smile. My sister, Lelouch said in his mind, I carve out a world for you that you shall prosper and live happily, at peace.
"Yes, the chess game went as planned," Lelouch said, "I won of course, and Mr. Archebello was kind enough to give me half of the winnings that I should have received."
"Oh," Nunally said with a frown, "Well at least you got something, right brother?"
Lelouch nodded and clasped Nunally's hands with his own in a very gentle and soothing manner. "Nunally, we got thirty thousand dollars," He said. Nunally's face lit up with happiness.
"Oh my, that's a fortune," She exclaimed, laughing happily. "Come on then, lets celebrate with a movie and a dinner, is take out okay?"
They ordered Japanese food and spent the next few hours in happiness. It was not to last.
00000000
If there was one word to describe too satisfaction, it was a cup of coffee. Lelouch sipped it gingerly as he looked at the pure white screen of the computer visualizing what he would do with the money. He obviously wanted to buy a better wheelchair model for Nunally but she did not want one - she told him last night:
"You already bought me a new model three months ago, Lelouch," She said, her hand on Lelouch's shoulder, "Maybe you should spend it on your biomedical magnetic field project."
He had laughed then, thinking he would not need any money and would stand out simply for brilliance. He was currently doing his PhD degree and he knew that he needed some funds for his research into the effect of magnetic fields on a human's immune system and in particular the effect of cartegonic antioxidant production by T-cells in the body's bone marrow which would theoretically help reverse psychosomatic illnesses such as the one Nunally had. Lelouch did not tell her he was doing his research for his sister's sake, he was sure she would not be happy. Such a sweet girl, he thought fondly as he drank another bitter gulp of his coffee. He clicked on a link that took him to another website with the newest wheelchair models - these ones invented interestingly by Lloyd Aspund himself, the earl of pudding as he was fondly called.
He looked at in benign interest at the latest model: this one was activated with voice control and heavily influenced by the latest knightmare edition models that Lloyd was working on. So this was his side project hmm? He clicked on the price link and saw it was ready to go on auction, mostly going to be bought by rich Britannians for its ingenuity. Hmph, he thought as he calculated how much funds he had in his bank account. In total it was over a hundred and fifty thousand european dollars, but he wanted to save at least seventy percent of that for Nunally, just in case something happened to him.
"Hey Lelouch," Nunally said, rolling her wheel chair behind Lelouch where he was sitting, sipping his bitter coffee. He turned and looked at Nunally, her hair wet after taking a long shower. She was always independent in nature despite her handicaps. "I think we should invite Shirley to dinner and celebrate your recent winnings, what do you think?"
So she was still trying to get him to go out with Shirley, that was annoying. He tried not to sigh, but perhaps Nunally saw through that, because despite her blindness she could be quite perceptive. "Very well then," She said somewhat coldly.
"No wait," Lelouch exclaimed, "I think... yes its just that today I wanted to work on my research and I was hoping for a day to study a textbook I recently purchased. Perhaps tomorrow?"
"Yes, that will be great," Nunally said, her face immediately brightening. "I will leave you to it then. I'm going to head out to the Academy then. As an assistant teacher I get to teach students and help them, and today I'm going to be leading the class since Mrs. Omorna is away. Can you believe she went in labour just three days ago?" Nunally was gushing. Lelouch smiled.
Independent. That was the word to describe Nunally, strong and gentle at the same time. She could take care of herself but Lelouch wanted to do that for her. He loved her after all. "Yes, go ahead, then Nunally, have fun," Lelouch said. "Should I call a cab for you or do you want to take the hotel's limo?"
"I think I will take the limosuine today in light of your winnings," Nunally said with a mischevious grin, "Hope you don't mind."
Lelouch did mind, that would cost him at least three hundred dollars, but he did not want Nunally to have a want in the world. Instead, with a gentle push at the wheelchair's handles, he wheeled her out the door and toward the elevator. He talked about his research, secretely enjoying the one sided conversation. Nunally was a good listener.
He said in scientific jargon - perhaps Nunally did not understand fully but she was happy to hear Lelouch's voice: "The magnetic fields coming from the North and South Pole, Nunally, is what is the basis of my research. To think that those energy waves can offer such beneficial properties to the human body when harnessed in a concentrated manner... it is going to be one of the most brilliant theses of the century I think, but I will of course have to publish anonymously. We would not want the ones who are in control to get wind of our location - and our presence." He was talking about his father, the emperor of Britannia.
"Of course," Nunally said with a frown, "But still you should get credit for your work."
"I will get credit where it matters," Lelouch said gently, "By proving my thesis it will attract the best minds to me, and I will have job offers around the world despite the pseuodonym that I will use. In fact they will be even more attracted to the intelligence of a commoner, thinking they can steal and take credit for things that do not belong to them." He sighed. "Such practices are all too rampant these days. But the basis of my research fundamentally lies in how these fields can be harnessed, in fact if I don't build something capable of using these magnetic fields and directing it into the human body in a way to make a person's immunity heighten to new sensitivities then my whole work for these past six months will be a failure."
"You don't need to succeed to have my love, Lelouch," Nunally said, "After all, you got your master's degree at the age of nineteen."
"Yes, and that in itself poses a problem. People will expect brilliant things of me, but if I don't publish under a false name, I will put you and I in great danger."
"I think you should do it, Lelouch," Nunally said, holding her brother's hand. "Be brave!"
"Very well then," Lelouch said, "I will take credit where credit is due... if I am successful." After all how could he deny Nunally's wishes? That was his one weakness. And he cherished it.
The elevator ride down was uneventful as Lelouch talked more about the immunity response of T-cells and how it would affect the mind, how one can theoretically create a whole new breed of super humans, ones that were genetically altered by the carcinogenic effects of the concentrated magnetic energy - except in a positive way instead of something like smoking.
Lelouch watched her leave in a black limosuine and then simply looked at the harsh sunlight that glared off the pearl coloured sky scraper buildings of New Japan City - where they lived. This was home, his home now, because Nunally made it her home. Yet he remembered his vow. With Britannia's increasing victories, they would not be able to escape detection for long. Royal family was highly prized and many nobles would seek to manipulate them, get them in their clutches.
He could only hope that publishing such a brilliant work - and he had no doubts, such was his arrogance - that he would somehow remain in the shadows, posing as a mere commoner. Somehow he doubted it, and yet he also felt a strange pleasure. This was his life's work, short as it was. He was a prodigy, on the scale of Nina, a classmate of his. She was devoted to her scientific physics and mathematical engineering and he... he took a different pursuit.
Chess and medicine. He needed chess for money, and he needed biomedical skills for Nunally. He wanted her to live happy, healthy, prosperous. He would do everything in his power. Yet his secret goal, one he did for himself as much for Nunally, if not more for selfish reasons remained unfulfilled.
So he remained empty and miserable on the inside, and he hated hiding his true nature from Nunally.
But his weakness was also his strength and so he shrugged off the laziness that had seeped into his bones, and went back to sipping coffee, this time reading a textbook as thick as the wheels on Nunally's chair.
He would finish it within eight hours, fully understood and memorized. And the rest of the time he would look out the window, day dream, think about Nunally, plan his revenge on Britannia.
He would wait, he could wait. His time would come some day, he was sure of it.
Now if only he could think of a way to actually build such a machine as this -- the only thing his project came remotely close to was Code Geass which also used magnetic fields... except these originated from a different source. Lelouch suspected it was the moon, or something in the cosmos, something alien and mysterious, cold and inhuman. He felt an insatiable need - a hunger for knowledge about Code Geass.
And he would have it. He told himself this was for Nunally. But deep inside he knew he wanted power for himself.
African Repblican Democracy of European Rule (ARDER) Has Formed Alliance With China
News Article dated Nov 12/2025 a.t.b
By: Yeuanna Chandra
Yesterday after Britannia had conquered its newest Area and added it to their collection of villainous and amoral deeds, a rising cry of challenge rose outward from Prince Schniezel vi Britannia's greatest enemy. "You shall not dictate mankind, Britainnia!"
Indeed, General Taubbyus De Vulrainagtaze who is well known for being directly blood related to France's greatest emperor and no doubt much more formidable than modern Britannia's best, Napolean Bonapart De Francium Emperierum, roared the lion's cry of challenge and who shall be king of the jungle depends only on the factors that govern humanity, nature at its most primordial.
Like the Emperor of Britannia says, Only the Strong Can Rule Over the Strong – his title for his latest speech at the capital regarding the formation of ARDER.
ARDER is a grievous threat to Britannia, as well as the EU for although the name says they are subservient to the EU, actually factual evidence reveals they in fact have split up with the EU and are working on their own. Indeed, with Germany's Sakruadite Source creating enormous income potentials has alienated most of the allies of the EU, who are no doubt jealous and envious of the EU's recent success which rivals that of Britannia's greatest triumphs. Such a sakuradite source as discovered in Germany is at least twenty times bigger and purer than what was originally thought to be the richest mines location: Area 11 (former identity: Japan).
While ARDER may not be able to compete with Britannia and EU's military forces, nor with EU and Britannia's income potential, the one from the "AREAS" and the other from its Sakuradite mining facility, it seems almost paltry in comparison.
However the ARDER Association of Grouped together AFRICAN (those who lie in the southern hemisphere opposite North America as well as the one connected distantly to Europe) countries have recently developed a new threat – a weapon of massive destruction that far outweighs the militaristic capabilities of Knightmares.
The scientists call it the nuclear bomb and it is perhaps the most massive destructive weapon ever to be created, capable of destroying countries in seconds. More on this later.
Lelouch walked quickly down the grimy street, fully aware of how dangerous it was to be in these parts of Area 11 He could be attacked, he kenw, but he felt well prepared for that evantuallity with a gunholster on his waist, and a 6B electric magnum oscillating kabholm in it. These babies could take down a Sutherland with a single shot so the gun would definitely prove effective for big targets. He could intimidate any of his opponents.
Lelouch took out a pack of cigarretes from his vest and stopped under a street lamp. He looked at the pack, at the white rolling paper and the tobacco, knowing of its unique properties on the body and the brian. Cancer was a predominant danger of using such vices, and up till now still no cure had been found. Still, Lelouch felt he needed it. Lately he was feeling a bit depressed, loss of interest in the normal activities of life. He supposed it was because he failed to reach his goals of destroying Britannia. He pulled one out and smoked it.
The smoke filled his head with a joyful bubbling sensation, nicotine calming his nerves and focusing his mind, pinpoint concentration totally absorbed in new knightmare model bioengineering. Nunally's wheelchair filled his vision, improvements to be had focusing and sustaining his enthusiasm for the goal, the Goal with a capital G. Goals are fucking important, Lelouch thought, rage and euphoria. Wow, cigarette so effectively inactivating him and lulling him into false oceans of joy, he didn't like it. Please let this end, he begged, gasping for air. An asthma attack had thirty percent probability. Lelouch calculated, full genius a work of play: innumerable possibilities in his mind.
He went to call a cab and sat in it for a while, wheels rolling on broken pavement of Ghetto Japan, poor stock screaming and begging for help, worst of the lot, abused under Britannia – victims made Lelouch nauseas, filled his stomach with rage and made him clench his briefcase tightly. It was filled with lots of money, in pure fresh notes, green fresh cash ready to make purchases – perfect for terrorists.
Was he having a panic attack? No, couldn't be. Taxi driver's voice filtered through over radio playing a slow symphony, Mozart or Bethooveen? Lelouch couldn't remember. His head hurt. "Hey buddy, you can't smoke here, dig it?"
"Sorry," Lelouch muttered, tossed the but of the cig out the window. Hit a passerby car, honking filled the street light. "Drive faster."
"Yessir, boss, better have the cash to pay me though or else I'll call the cops."
Great, just his luck to get the one wack job taxi driver. He wanted out, wanted to puke but knew he couldn't. Important meetings were going to be underway, determing future plans, his next course of life, an attack against Britannia. Taking the offensive he had to stay stubborn, he could do it. Fuck the helplessness, just get out! He told the driver to stop at the parking lot on East Hastings Blvrd, 31B station unit.
Paid the driver three times the fee in cash, and ran into the parking lot. Tires squealed against the road. Taxi Car raced away and Lelouch was left alone in the garage where noises of his footsteps echoed in the chamber.
"Hello," Lelouch said, "I'm here, come and face me before I leave."
Nothing, he got scared. They might jump me and kill me, take my money and scram. Thoughts of murder filled his vision. He couldn't do this! Dealing with terrorists, he might die…
"Hey you, are you the contact?" A gruff voice echoed. A man stepped behind a black jeep, wearing a gold chain over a thin blue striped shirt. He was Japanese. Lelouch nodded, and said in a deeply confident faked voice, "I am not just the contact, but your funder too," Lelouch said, his eyes glowing in the darkness a brilliant violet opaque. It looked like a thousand crystals, pinpoint eyes of a jellyfish thousand multitudes in a sea of stars. He felt drugged, his reflection underneath the white lighting of a parking light dull and flat on a puddle. He looked at his black coat, neat and pressed and then at the other man's coat which was muddy and looked threadbare. "You who are without funds, I have the money. You may use it to buy Southerlands and take your new force, attack the dark alleyways of Eleven Brtannia conqueror capitol cities. Attack those who are rich and glorifying on your suffering. You exist to make chaos."
"What the hell are you going on about?" asked the rebel, his face scarred with wounds, battle hardened spirit on a stiff neck. Lelouch drew upon his pain and suffering, rejection of Britannia infusing his gut with hatred and strong emotion, pouring out of him in a wave of confidence and utter surety. "You will tell me what you will do with this if I were to give it to you," Lelouch said, and threw down the brief case.
The lid tattered open, revealing the huge pile of money. The rebel's eyes grew as large as saucers, "Holy mother –" He stilled, and then bent and gingerly picked a single note from the case, held it to the light. "It's real," he said in awe, looked at Lelouch, "Who are you?"
"I have given you all the information you need, I am your funder, your most valued supporter. I need your help, need your group's aid in carrying out several operations that will ultimately hurt Britannia."
The rebel's mouth curled in an amused smirk. Eyes glittered with amusement… and something else, curiosity perhaps, or just wonder.
Lelouch sketched out a brief plan with the rebel, who swore he would take it to his superiors. Lelouch placed a marking chip on one of the bills – microscopic and undectable the night before.
He smelled like smoke and sweat, a bottle of bourbon stinking on the table smell full of alcohol. He looked at the laptop, sitting in the van, staring into the endless white screen detailing movements of the rebels, as well as tapped conversations. Fifteen thousand European dollars, spent just to find a small rebel group.
He had introduced himself to the rebel in the garage, one Biscurey, a big half Japanese, half Indian man wrestler in the bars but undercover Knightmare pilot, launching attacks. He had agreed to meet with Lelouch on a whim, mostly ready for a trap, ready to spring it right back onto the trappers – Britannians he assumed, or go out like a sacrificial lamb, so the group could survive.
The deal was genuine. Lelouch lost a fortune, half the money gained in chess, and in return got respect, got information, this was key to his long term plans. He drank the rest of the bourbon that was still in the glass, feeling warm liquid erupt in his chest like boiling fire. He coughed, and lit another cigarette, took in a deep drag and looked at the ash accumulating at the end of a red dot of heat. "Fuck yeah," he said, smiling to himself as he realized he had achieved significant gain today – he would do it, could do it.
Destroy Britannia. It was his goal.
Nunally would realize one day that her brother had done miracles in her name. Realize it while living in the peace and beauty of a new world, carved out by Lelouch – his strength and genius, coexisting in a nexus of plans, spider webs of pulled strings. He was orchestrating a revolution, organized, deadly, and ultimately selfish.
But he would win. Or he would not deserve to keep his vow and he would accept with failure the exile that obscurity would bring. Such were his thoughts as he drove back to the hotel in the borrowed van. He knew the rebels intimately, their base of operations, members, what they would do with the money (buy launcher rockets, the twits, instead of good Sutherlands) as well as how to go about gaining their trust and control.
Nunally was a little saddened when she came home after a hard day's work of teaching only to find Lelouch absent. He had left an audio message looped repeatedly blaring its recording in Lelouch's voice to the empty hotel room. Nunally paused on the entrance, hands on wheels, and listened to the message carefully:
"Nunally, I am going to visit a friend of mine who has recently discovered something of interest. He is staying only for a short while in Japan and I took the earliest plane to meet him in Teinchujiki."
That was a five hour flight, Nunally knew, and she hated that Lelouch would be gone for so long. At least a day or two. Whenenver she was alone she always felt scared and uncomfortable, those feelings of battle, of gunshots powpowpow and bodies falling on the stair case, blood gore and explosive flesh littering the hallway in a pool of blood. Expressions on dead faces, sadness and absolute misery marking its gashes and cuts on Nunally's soul. She could remember the scene with absolute clarity, the fright, the murderer. But whenever she tried to talk about it to Lelouch – who else really? – she felt she could not, and so she did not.
She sighed and got some orange juice from the fridge, half cold. Poured it into a tall cup and gulped it down, stared blankly at where the radio should be and said, "On!" in a clear voice. The radio started immediately, voice controlled and activated, and began reading the sports headlines.
She settled down for a lonely, frightening night with only stark memories to keep her company.
There was nobody in the house, Lelouch liked that. An empty house had no ghosts and the memories of his father – the past and its unhealed anger – slowly gave way to a melancholic numbness and surety as he went through his day like a robot, mechanical and empty, bereft of ideas, creatively dulled: burned out.
Lelouch picked up the phone and dialed his friend, living in Britannia, he had known Robert Grechen for three years and was somewhat interested in the man's research into nuclear genetics. "Hello, speaking to Robert?" Lelouch said briefly, mentally counting down from five, the sun's position out the window said it was ten past two and Lelouch knew Britannia's time was three hours past Area Eleven so that meant Robert would be in his lab – he was always in his lab and rarely came out – doing tests and running experiments on poor unsuspecting white rats. Lelouch knew Nunally would feel sorry for the rats, but Lelouch didn't, not when he had first seen Robert's laboratory, then he had felt only a brief anticipation about the coming events, about injecting nuclear dna treated with radiosomes, a new breed of medicine to treat AIDs, that he tingled all over and did not feel any hint of remorse for their fates. "You have a good eye for this kind of subject," Robert said with a laugh, watching him carefully from the door of the lab. Lelouch had turned, given him a smile and they understood each other with that one look and from henceforth were the best of friends.
"Robert, I need you help with a brief project of mine," Lelouch said, holding the phone a few centimeters from his ear. Robert really liked to shout, was in the habit of doing this especially since back home he had banned all maids from entering his lab, so whenever he wanted some coffee or a cupcake or a cookie – he really liked junk foods, while Lelouch preferred fruits – he would yell for the maid and wait for her by the door, never actually bothering to leave. "I have here several models made by Lloyd, and I wanted to get the science behind one of the latest ones that has caught my eye. This one uses DNA recognitition software to program the wheelchair to obey neurological commands by radiowaves, is that right?"
"Err, Lelouch, how've you been old buddy?" Robert exclaimed from the speaker, "I was just about to dial your number actually and ask you about a question right up your alley about magnetic fields and its implications on life span for the standard eukaryotic bacterium. Trade for trade then?"
Lelouch hung up after fifteen minutes of conversation, and wrote down a note on a yellow pad, ripped the page out, looked at it for an entire minute before crumpling it in disgust. He opened his laptop and went to the home page, typed in "RECEPTION SOFTWARE INC" and got the maps for the terrorist headquarters thanks to the GPS system he implanted in one of the bills. They still hadn't used the money – or the bill that Lelouch had put the bugs on, and in a way Lelouch felt glad but he was also a bit anxious – would the terrorists take the bait? He had recorded everything – all the conversation and audio noises – and started up the sound playback for the past ten minutes. He sat back, listened for a bit about random chatter – apparently Tamaki was interested in the dating profile of resistence members, and Andro seemed eager to find out what "B-Viagra" did for the male physiology. She blushed when Kallen told her, Lelouch could hear it in her voice. Wait! His mind stopped for a brief moment before churning into sixth gear and speeding down the highway of memories. Kallen Stadfield, aka Kallen Kouzaku apparently, he thought, now a resistence fighter, or were you one all along? He was giddy with excitement, thinking of how lucky he was to finally get an in, an opening with the resistence group and so easily too. Now he knew a resistance member in real life, intimately one might say in that he or she would be far easier to manipulate. But Kallen would see this coming, because she would know it was Lelouch who funded the financial bizz side of the resistance and would draw their suspicions on the fact that he was Britannian and thus not to be trusted, Kallen might repeat tales of popular rumours about Lelouch which would blow away his reputation. He could feel his image draining away but he still smirked in triumph.
He got up and decided it was time to put the enemy king in Check.
His mask had been created, his mind was razor sharp. He started up the laptop and went over his plan one more time. In his mind he knew the plan inside and out and had created it in less than twenty minutes based on information begotten secretely by a turncoat to Britannia, Robert, his friend the scientist. The information was slim but had relations upon a secret project of toxic gas – supposedly its cover, but in reality it hid a far ulgier and much more curious truth, a Code. Not a "CODE GEASS", just a "CODE" – that was the name of an encrypted document within the emperor's own mail box! How Robert had gotten that, Lelouch did not know, but he trusted Robert, so he did not ask questions, thanked Robert, but at the same time covered all his bases and investigated the information by himself.
As a detective, Lelouch's skills were perhaps mediocre, but as a strategist he was above excellence. He knew delegation, how it worked, just how easy it made life. Teamwork: he could not take on Britannia alone; the past proved that, Lelouch put on his mask and his new outfit to say to the world, Here Lies Your Hero, Your Savior. No, Lelouch exclaimed in his mind, here lays Zero, a man of nothing, no being, no person, simply a vessel for justice to act. "Zero," Lelouch whispered as he looked in the mirror. It was perfect.
Lelouch walked down the train corridor, knowing there were people gazing at him in confusion and some amusement. Clowning around had never been Lelouch's passion. He hated it but knew it was necessary for his plan, the "PLAN" in capital bolded italicized letters, for the PLAN underlined everything that Lelouch had to do in order to take down Britannia, and how quickly. Now was the time to act on three hundred thousand possibilities in total – he had strategized his whole world, his entire future, and he held it in his lap and gazed into it, he found it wanting.
People whispered, they laughed at his outfit, smirked at his ridiculousness but Lelouch, face red with embarrassement knew just how necessary his actions were today. He was thirty miles away from Nunally's location, in the suburbs of Britannian Japan – Honourable Britannians, Elevens who were obedient. They got their bones, just like dogs, they sat and rolled at the master's command. Lelouch knew he would have to eradicate this behavior, make it for him or against him. He was Zero, and he would destroy the world and then remake it, and if he found the tale wanting, he would destroy again, and again. His heart was a block of granite, his face, once red with blushing heat, remained pale and pasty white. He felt stirrings in his crotch, knew he had to pee, but held it back and tightened his stomach bravely against the oncoming traffic of insecurities.
In his hand he held a briefcase. Thirty meters away, at the airport – because Britannians wanted their Honourary Britannians to get the best, and the best was a noisy polluted airport with sixty security gaurds and two Southerlands – old and archaic – were on guard. Their head security guard was a fat foreign fuck named Barco Henderson who had bought a nobility position in Britannia. That was worth a fortune, because someone in turn had to give up their nobility to sell a person his spot. That price wavered with the times, but always the auctions went up in the millions. Barco was supposedly an Egyptian head of a mafia group, illegal activities, low morals. Lelouch knew caution rearing its head back in an ugly smirk. He – a one man army, his brain and his feeble body – would defeat one of the greatest criminal minds of the century.
He rode the subway and rode the bus, rode the town around and rode standing straight around and around. He was tired after, tired like a bulldog gets tired when its master kicks it around in a drunken rage. He felt tiredness in his weary bones, and heard it in the dull aches behind his ears. He felt drowsy on the inside and drowsy on the outside, and his mask was hot and suffocating. His pants were wet with piss, and stank mightily. People edged away. It did not matter, nothing mattered except his plan and his goal so he told himself to stiffen up and develop thick skin. He wanted this, wanted the humiliation because it meant attention, it meant rumours. Lelouch would have to start a wave of rumours, a sea of torturous rumours. He had been subtly practicing in school to great affect. He knew the psychology behind this science of people, of controlling nations, because he had royal blood and he was meant to rule. He had the power of kings in his brain, a tiny little voice that told him he was better than these crickets, that he was a giant and could stomp them in the mud if he so wished. Receiving grace from the power of kings, the royal blood, he held himself back, sustained his being on control and thrived on restriction, self discipline. Whispers ran across the cities and soon will resonate throughout the country. He did not think he could go beyond that little arbitrary boundry, not yet, he simply did not have power yet. Power of Kings. Was it Code Geass? Was it ambition and genius? Power of Kings. Greed. Envy. Jealousy. Hate. The lesser emotions, or the greater emotions?
"Power of Kings!" Lelouch said aloud. The people full bus silenced, still looking at him.
Strange boy.
NEWS REPORT: Today the first Britannian airport to be built in Area Eleven, Airport Clovis, was destroyed in a targeted assassination attempt at Prince Clovis, who had been visiting then for a part of his 'grand tour de Eleven'. A masked man was also reported, sitting and reading the newspaper in the waiting section on the airport. He held a sign in his hand that said, "EXPLOSIVE CARNIVAL" and was assumed by security forces at the airport to be a harmless passenger. The sign may have been a code anagram type deal to refer to Prince Clovis and his impending death trap. Investigators remain mystified.
Lelouch's plan was simple, but in case he needed some back up, some added security, he brought along his .547 magnum RF – rapid fire. With this hand held gun he was protected because he was packing iron and he had an element of surprise. Now the only remaining element he had to deal with was confronting these terrorists and getting their obedience. Every king needed his follower, and Lelouch was going to get his knights of the round table.
"So we are here," he said to the room, smiling a little. His mask gleamed in his cupboard, but before him sitting around this round conference table the hotel had so graciously provided were numerous stock owners – all who had vested major interest in one science fundamentally – medicine, biochemistry, the science of extending the lives of rich old fools who had more money than sense. 'Long live greed,' Lelouch said in his mind, 'For without it, my plans shall have no sustenance.'
"Doctor Lamperouge," said one of the men sitting in a blue suit. He was as thin as a stick and his name plaque read, "Dr. Arizona, m.d" but his eyes read cold caution. "We had spoken about your biochemical research into magnetic fields some number of years ago, when you were just applying for your degree with your thesis."
Lelouch remembered it well, the time when he had attacked airport Clovis singlehandedly, when he had gained the trust of a small terrorist group. Three years had passed; Nunally received her degree in teaching and taught everyday at Ashford Academy, Lelouch had gone on to receive his doctorate after a brilliant work published under his own name due to Nunally's insistence, and most importantly, he had started a company to investigate his project all in an effort to get close to the exiler of his life – Code Geass.
"I demand thirty thousand credits, in cash for the first month start up period. I will need that much money to build a high tech lab, as well as to attract several key scientists from Britannia into Area 11."
"So you will continue your research in Area 11?" Dr. Arizona asked, "In this war infested place? Your research, if it is worth the monetary expenditure, will suffer for it."
"I have outlined my reasons for this location to be the base of operations. The research is clear, the arguments precise and solid against doubt," Lelouch explained. "Already Coca Cola Scientific Research Industries have offered me thirty thousand credits as well for the first start up month. The only reason I am hearing you out is because of our past history."
Coca Cola Scientific Research Industries, or C.C for short, was a financial empire for funding scientific research, for which they would take the profits as the sponser of the invention.
Lelouch would never agree to such bargains. He had written his name on the company ledger of position C.E.O and he would not change it, or ruin his good name. That would draw even more attention than moderate success. Small amounts of success was expected of brilliant men. And really he was just using this research as a front for his money laundering scheme from gambling.
The years that had passed were productive. Lelouch had established his terrorism within Area 11, striking like a viper at the weak spots, using all his cunning and slyness to get real results, results that actually mattered, that were a thorn to the soft ass of Britannia.
The hard skull would come later.
He sometimes fantasized about meeting Prince Schniezel, the second in line to the throne and his older brother, in a battle, be it of wits, chess, or military endevours. He was not sure of his victory. That was a profound statement, and even more significant was the fact that he admitted his insecurity to himself. He was scared of course, just a boy, just a man perhaps, fighting Britannia with everything in himself, mind and body. But soul? There was no soul in his fight, just cold and merciless cunning, ambition heightened to the sharpness of a sword and burning in the fire of his hate. But soul? No. His soul was with Nunally.
His soul was within Nunally. She was his innocence, personified. She was everything to him that mattered and he would build a world where she could be happy. He would try, anyways. But if he faced the hard skull of Britannia, the prodigies and the ones who excelled, Cornelia even, could he win?
Could he lose?
No, there was no going back for him now, it was now or never, and he would either get what he wanted, or walk out.
"Now or never?" Lelouch said. They didn't respond so he walked out.
Ten minutes later his cell rang, and Dr. Arizona said they would take the deal, and his cash would be ready within the hour.
Lelouch told him to make it forty five minutes and hung up.
He had the money. He had the mask. The seed was in place, and the time seemed ripe to exploit the tense situation. "Three shipments of Gaslow clones are being transported by Britannia to their junk site in Southern France. We can use such equipment, even if it is archaic, and fund some minor projects that I have been looking into," Lelouch said to the group. He as usual had his pistol hidden, well oiled and ready to draw. He tended to pay Kallen more attention because he had been fooled before, when he thought she was just a student. The group did not really have its loyalty to him, but they respected him. He was the masked man who had almost killed Prince Clovis. He was the man who had tracked them down, convinced them to join him and he was the one who had given them three times the sum another person had given them a few days prior, Lelouch.
The crimes were committed. Some suspicion remained, was it Lelouch who was Zero? Some were not so suspicious. It did not matter. Under Zero's leadership, the terrorist group grew in both prominence as well as richness. As Tamaki put it they finally had enough money for themselves to go out on dates, and if that wasn't the definition of rich, then what was? Oghi liked how it was going so far, the operations ran smoothly and he knew he was never a leader anywyas, and this Zero fella was a leader, could lead, would lead, would lead them to greatness perhaps, in time. And in time, he would reveal his masked face, or Oghi would be forced to reveal it for him.
This might be it, the time had come. "Show us the face that lies behind the mask," Oghi said, his voice iron. He had lead his group for a long time after the death of the previous leader, Kallen's brother, and he had grown, learned. He would never be as good as Zero, but he still had a bit of steel in his heart and he would not back down. "The time has come, Zero, if you want us to follow you, then show us the truth. We have seen your ability and now we need to know your identity."
Zero was silent for a long time. They were in a junk yard, and the sea gulls that flew overhead with eyes out only for scraps of food made few noises. The very air seemed to breathe silence. Then Zero held out both arms and he looked like a bat with cowls of silken purple and black cloth under his arms running to his legs. "Do you want proof of my identity? Why, so you can be sure of my alliance with you? That I am on your side, and am not going to betray you?"
Zero laughed, his laugh was mocking and cold, like the squawk of a crow, Oghi thought. He pulled out his gun. He had been ready for this moment, and when he pulled it out he was surprised.
Zero had drawn faster than him and the barrel of a short pistol pointed down his face, inches away from his nose. "Drop it," he said, his voice as deadly as the hiss of a rattlesnake. Oghi did so, but the others had also – seeing a confrontation build up – pulled out their guns. Zero was outnumbered five to one, no way to win. Kallen hadn't drew her gun – Oghi didn't know if she was carrying iron – but it was still five to one.
Zero did not look scared, Oghi wondered if the man was insane. Must be, maybe if we open his mask we will find the face of a refrain addict, a genius refrain addict, or perhaps some foreign guy with a fire for Britannia, maybe a cemented socialite, a stock broker. The possibilites dazzled him. Curiosity killed the cat, yet Oghi thought that may be this time it would be different. This time, the cat got the curiosity fulfilled and everything turned out okay and the bigger cat, the bully cat, choked on a fur ball and died leaving the world free of one ugly bully, yet Oghi knew very well that the emperor of Britannia would not choke on his dinner tonight. Or the next night. "Will you shoot me?" Zero laughed again, "Do so, but remember what I have shown you, and wonder in your minds whether I have a failsafe, perhaps a hidden bomb set to self destruct unless I call a number at exactly the right time?"
Zero took out a cell phone with his other hand and dropped it to the ground, crushed it beneath a black leather boot.
Oghi felt a sweat bead drop down the sides of his jaw, and he could tell the others were scared too. Some of the stunts Zero had led them through amazed him, and he knew there was genius, an intelligence that went beyond the human norm sitting patiently beneath the mask, waiting and watching totally expecting Oghi's betrayal.
That scared Oghi. He felt an urge to tell the group to stand down, and let it go. He knew that if did so, the group would obey. Oghi was the original leader, before Zero, and they trusted him more. But Oghi thought of the benefit of the group, and knew that if he did tell them to back down, they would never be able to stand up to Zero again. It was hard to pluck the courage to meet the gaze of death itself, or Zero, in this case, the man of miracles; Hard to meet the gaze of something otherworldly, alien and cold, monstrous and fleeting.
"Take off your mask, or you will have bullets in it." Oghi said with a stiff face, he would not show fear, nor would he show just how close he came to wetting his pants, seeing that blank black mask and that black barrel held in an insane man's thin glove covered hands. They looked soft. Oghi knew he could break it, snap it in two if he wanted, but he would be dead, bullet in his forehead.
Zero looked at Oghi and Oghi looked back at Zero. "This is what they call a Mexican Ballbuster," Oghi said, "When neither party will back down."
"Very well," Zero said, his tone of voice sounding a bit defeated. "I shall show you my mask. This is my true face, the one that I could not show to the world."
Zero took off his mask (Oghi thought he did. He heard the hiss, a hiss of a machine. It might have been the mask, or it might have been the black gas that shot out of the cell phone. If Zero had taken off his mask, Oghi had missed it). None could see the face that was beneath it for moments before a cloud of black gas erupted from the broken cell phone, a gas so dark and poisonously sickening, it brought the terrorists down like wooden dolls. When they woke up with raging headaches, nauseous and sickly bodies and an all around feeling of death in their bones, they all unanimously agreed to let the bad lie in the mud and not keep digging where their curious cat claws itched to dig.
The next day they met at the same spot and Zero continued as if nothing had happened, talked about the shipments that were being brought to Britannia's junkyard in Southern France, their plans for getting the machines and handing it to a group of technicians for hire to fix it up for a small fee, and then do an attack on Britannia's capital in Area 11, the tower of Clovis. It was newly built, and made up of the best materials the world had to offer, with an outstanding security force. Lelouch had not given up on his plan to cut the head of the snake, and if the airport trick had not succeeded – not that he truly expected it would have – he knew he would have to try another tactic.
Mr. Archebello was old blood, and that meant respect, it meant money, old money and pure money and more importantly a lot of money. He had always lived the rich life, not a direct heir to the crown but a close one nonetheless, if the entire immediate royal family died, he would be sixteenth in the line of the throne. And that meant something important, a free pass at life, just coast your way through because you are a noble, and what you do or say doesn't matter as long as you make money and keep money and enjoy your money. He had a small family but he left them, because he thought they were cheating him, stealing is money, stealing his mind, poisoning his coffee. That's why he always made his own coffee despite having three maids in the mansion at all times.
But his family hadn't been doing any of those things, Mr. Archebello knew that or he may have once known that. Things got so fuzzy in the realm of memory, he found it so hard to remember the important things, the important names. Why, just this morning he forgot the name of the Emperor
(Charles, its Charles, goddamit, he reminded himself)
And yesterday he forgot the name of his newphew. But he didn't forget Lelouch, the man who had beaten him at chess and more importantly the man who renegaded on his promises. "Damn him!" he screamed at the television screen which was showing a rerun of an archaic series called, "Robo Cop."
He looked at the main character, part man and part machine and more importantly a cop, and he suddenly got an idea. It just popped up, fully planned and ready to go and a bit rough on the edges, but that was alright, because he was a noble. Success came easy to him. Chess was easy, life was easy and more importantly getting his money back was going to be easy. Because money was important and having a lot of it was just what he did, what he was born to do. Thirty fucking thousand dollars, I'll get my money you fucking rugrat, and maybe a chunk of your flesh too, he thought as he dialed the number of his lawyer.
Julius Grechen - Robert's father and a general asshole to everybody and everything that annoyed him, which was many things almost countless to name yet he probably succeeded in doing that due to his enormous amounts of ranting and raging at all that annoyed him - picked up the phone. "Hello," he barked in the receiver gruffly, "What do you want?"
"It's me, Archebello, and I need a favour."
"What do you need?"
"Do you know the name of a hit man I could hire?" There was silence on the other end, blissful and pure. Yes, bow down before my power, my ruthlessness, Mr. Archebello thought, grinning. The maid who accidentally walked in his office squeaked and ran out, her delicious rump the best part – or view – of his day.
Julius laughed, and replied, "A hit man you say, my Mr. Archebello how low have you descended."
"Will you provide me with a contact or do I have to find one myself, you worthless scumbag?" Mr. Archebello said, snarling in anger. His mind was red haze and a bit of confusion. He by chance caught his reflection on the glass of a drink of vodka and never had he seen such annoyance on human eyes. This Lelouch really got to me, he realized, and that thought sobered him. It was not Lelouch and the money that got to him, it was some upstart scumbag who had defeated him in something that he was always good at.
It was his pride, snarling in rage, his pride that used the money as an excuse to hurt his opponent. He has already won, said a small part of his mind, drowning in his rage and jealousy. A man barely out of school beats me; I must either be getting old or getting cheated. There is no other possibility. He lit a cigar and puffed on it, waited as his lawyer got out a small piece of information, a number and a name to someone who knows someone who may know a few people who know a few more people. "I want you to make the calls, Mr. Grechen, its what I am paying you for isn't it?"
"How much will you pay me, approximately?" Mr. Grechen asked, "I don't think my usual by the hour fee will cut it, seeing as this activity is something of an illicit nature." His smooth and sly voice was like a snake, but Mr. Archebello did not notice, nor did he care.
It isn't about the money, he realized, and that too was not enough to make him care.
"Thirty thousand EU dollars," he said and hung up on an astonished Julius Grechen.
Grechen looked at the phone in silence and then felt annoyance once more cascading down on him from the inside. He wanted to slap that old fatso, Mr. Archebello and his stupidity, hiring a hitman, my goodness, and talking about it on a public line too where any cop with initiative and balls could pick up on their conversation. Didn't he know the latest knightmares could tap phone lines? That stupid bastard, Grechen tightened his fist and snarled at the dead phone. Slamming down the receiver, he went through his files one more time and made a call. Told the gangster boy what he wanted (was it a gangster boy, a street rat hoodlum, or was that just a cover for an organization – or a person – more sinister, more concealed): the supposed hit man, a guy who went in and stuck a knife or a needle or a bullet into another guy for a bit of green.
"I don't want to deal with this crap," he told his wife over dinner. His son looked interested, but not overly so. Wouldn't be interested in my business, he thought slightly bitterly, wouldn't be interested at all, nothing in his empty head but labs and science and shit like that. But indeed Robert was very interested, because he knew Lelouch had talked a bit about his chess match with Mr. Archebello and how that was integral to his start up business on the side, more specifically a rebellion against Britannia. Strange hobbies, he had commented at the time, but although it was srange it also made sense. Lelouch was obviously doing a little social study or psychology study on a huge scale, perhaps, or something similar, something that Robert did not care about because it was not science. He was a hard core nerd, listened to rap music and did his homework, smoked a little tobacco every weekend and that was that. At graduation night his friends had invited him to a party, where he got drunk. That was the night he lost his virginity and got an STD, showing up on a test two months later. "But Robert, we can easily cure this, there's nothing to worry about," Doc Maggie said with a little laugh, her computer face a digitalized rendition of a person, or an AI dressed up as a person, Robert thought. The lesson from that unfortunate experience, where he had to have a rash on his face for three months due to one of the side effects of the little blue pills Doc Maggie had sent him by mail (came on time for once, within the hour), was never to trust anything good in his life, because everything had its shadow. It was a little pessimistic but it worked, it was a tight fic. His girlfriend, Susan, the one who had given him the STD in the first place, told him his pessimism was charming, so he kept it.
He sure as hell wouldn't trust that this hit man thing and Lelouch were unrelated. So he wrote off a quick email, warning Lelouch – or Zero, maybe, Robert considered as he typed in the message – about the hit man Mr. Archebello would hire from his father.