Suzaku sat rigidly on a bench in the waiting room of the medical wing onboard the Avalon. Only a few feet away from him, a large red light indicated that his beloved princess was still in surgery. She was so close to him, yet her life hung in the balance, and there was nothing he could do. To make matters worse, the day's events still made little sense to Suzaku, for they were all far too sudden. One moment, they were lying in bed together, arguably the happiest people on earth at the time; the next, thousands of Japanese lay dead in the streets – supposedly as a result of her order – and she lay dying in the next room. Every second was torture for him. His entire body shook uncontrollably and his fists painfully clutched the fabric of his uniform on his thighs. He became more fearful and distraught with each passing second; every fiber of his being practically destroying itself with worry over the fate of his princess.
As if to reassure himself – or perhaps simply to fill the painful silence that had descended over the entirety of the aerial battleship – Suzaku mentally repeated to himself the phrase he had uttered when he had boarded the ship with a bloody, cold, and unconscious Euphemia cradled in his arms. He shouted it out loud now, his fear and worry having come to a peak.
"You mustn't let her die!"
He cast his gaze downward, only to find himself staring at the hideously large bloodstains covering his uniform; it was Euphie's blood. He shut his eyes painfully, as if trying to erase the image from his memory, but it was no use. Those grotesque stains continued to assert their existence, practically burning themselves onto his retinas and into his mind. They mocked him – mocked his loss, mocked his failure to do his job, mocked his failure to protect the one he loved. He wanted to scream, or vomit – he wasn't sure which he preferred, though part of him hoped for the latter so as to silence the former. But, as his fear peaked once more, it became apparent that he had no such luck. He wailed with agony.
"Euphie…please…" he choked.
--- --- ---
The red light over the door to the operating room finally dimmed and shut off. As it did so, a trio of weary surgeons morosely filed out of the room. Sighing, the Avalon's chief of surgery spoke first:
"Well, she's finally stable. Unfortunately, there's nothing more we can do. She won't last…"
The other doctors seemed appalled by this news; though they all knew it was so even before the chief had spoken.
"Do you think she'll even make it through the rest of the night?" one of the other doctors asked.
The chief merely shook his head. "Sadly, no."
"Christ, this world is going to hell!"
Several seconds of silence passed, as each doctor mulled over the statement in their heads. Seeing as one of their proud nation's most beloved princesses had just been fatally wounded, they couldn't help but agree. Finally, the third doctor – a woman – spoke up, bringing up what none of them wanted to discuss.
"Someone needs to inform her highness princess Cornelia."
"I'll be handling that," the chief responded, sighing wearily once more. "But, we also need to inform the boy…" As all three of them were well aware of the relationship between princess Euphemia and her knight, that task seemed the far more arduous and difficult to all of them.
The chief decided to risk a glance over at the boy, sitting only a few feet away from where they stood. Immediately, he regretted his decision, for the young man looked nothing short of horrid. Yet, the chief found himself unable to avert his gaze, for sheer bewilderment and disbelief overwhelmed him. The sight of the boy disgusted him, and not just because of the obscene amount of blood that spattered and stained the boy's entire body. In fact, he estimated that the young boy was covered in more blood than all three surgeons combined. He shivered at the thought. But no, it was the sheer age of the boy that disturbed him most. That someone his age would be forced to play such a significant role in a war of such horrors was nothing short of deplorable. Additionally, the effect that it had on the boy was blatantly obvious, and no less disturbing. He looked far more haggard than anyone with such youth rightfully should. Massive, dark circles hung from the boy's eyes, which were stained red − though whether from blood or tears, the chief could not tell. He could not decide which eventuality was worse, so he hoped that we would not learn the answer to that question. The boy's hair was disheveled severely, and encrusted with an ungodly mixture of dirt, blood, and grease. Just then, he looked up at them, eyes pleading against all hope, desiring to know the fate of his princess, praying that she was unharmed. That unnerved the chief even more. He returned his gaze to the team of surgeons around him. The question from before as to who would inform the boy of said princess' fate still hung in the air.
"Damnit." The chief added when neither of the others volunteered to undertake the burden of informing the boy of the princess' situation. This day was getting worse with every second, he thought to himself, as he slowly stepped forward to address the young knight.
Her eyes opened slowly as she suddenly awoke from her wonderfully deep sleep. She smiled, pleased to find that most of her body still tingled with residual pleasure from their recent, immensely liberating lovemaking. Gathering her bearings, she realized that she was still in Suzaku's room, a fact confirmed by the sound of his peaceful breathing behind her, as well as the soothing heat of his chest pressed against her back. Looking out a window, she discovered it was still dark outside. From what she could tell, it seemed that only a few hours had passed. She found this strange, for she already felt completely rested, as though she had slept in until the afternoon. It seemed that her sleep in Suzaku's arms was even more rejuvenating than she had initially thought. She smiled, realizing that everything about her knight made her love him even more.
It wasn't yet dawn, so something must have woken her up. Frowning slightly, she scanned the room in an attempt to find an explanation; evidence of some disturbance or other. Just as she was about to give up her futile search and drift back to sleep, Suzaku stirred slightly behind her. It was then that she realized the reason she had awoken: his loving embrace had tightened around her waist since they had first fallen asleep. She didn't mind, really – she was in no discomfort, and she was more than happy to embrace her knight even closer. She gleefully snuggled closer to him, sinking into his warm, relaxing embrace. Despite this, she was still curious as to the reasoning behind the sudden change. She gazed upon his face from over her bare shoulders, trying to imagine what he might be dreaming about. She then noticed that his other arm was extended forward, and his hand balled into a fist, as if wielding a blade of some sort. She had to stifle a small giggle when she realized that it was exactly what he was doing. He held her even closer and his extended hand shifted back and forth slightly, as if challenging – no, daring – anyone who might do her any harm to come forth and face him. Even in his sleep, he devoted his entire existence to protecting his princess.
She smiled again as she closed her eyes and laid her hand across his. As she began to fall asleep once more, she was overwhelmed with joy at the knowledge that so long as she remained with her beloved knight, no harm would ever come to her…
Euphemia groaned weakly, slowly opening her eyes as she began to regain consciousness. The action seemed to expend far more energy than it should have; she felt impossibly weak and frail. She realized vaguely that she was still breathing, though not of her own power, for she was far too weak to do so. Looking down, she saw that a respirator mask covered most of the lower half of her face, and that she was lying naked in a bed, covered only by some thin white sheets. She must have been in a hospital of some sort. She was completely disoriented. What could have happened to put her in such a state? Was she injured? More importantly, how did she arrive in this place? The last place she remembered being naked was in Suzaku's bed. If she had the energy to do so, she would have blushed happily at the memory. Staying with her original train of thought, though, she struggled to remember what might have taken place to put her in a hospital, but it was no use. Just as she was about to give up all hope, she heard a familiar voice address her.
"You've done well, Euphemia."
Summoning all her strength, she turned her head sideways to face whoever it was that had spoken. There, at her bedside, she beheld the sight of a young man – apparently not much different from her in age – with short green her and striking amber eyes. It was immediately apparent that they were alone, as no Britannian in their right mind would allow someone dressed so informally to be in the presence of royalty. He wore nothing but a white tank top and a pair of tattered jeans. Euphemia didn't mind, though, for she had known this individual for quite some time.
"B.B. what's going on?" she muttered hoarsely, her words distorted by the obtrusive respirator mask.
"To put it simply and concisely, shit's hitting the fan," he said in his usual monotonous voice and brash, straightforward fashion. Euphie, however, lacked the strength to either laugh or question him. So, she said nothing, and he continued. "More specifically as to how this relates to me, though: you're fulfilling your contract."
Euphemia was even more confused by this revelation. "How can that be possible? I hardly ever used the geass you gave me, and now I doubt that I'm in a position to take your place." She fought back the urge to shiver in revulsion as she recalled the one and only time she had used her power: the power to grant unbridled joy to anyone. Though it seemed an innocent enough power, she had discovered the horrors of its full potential, the hard way. She had used it on an unsuspecting Eleven when she had first arrived in Japan, shortly after meeting B.B. for the first time. Her intentions were pure; she simply wanted to find out what her newfound power could do. Unfortunately, however, she had been too slow in averting her gaze and ending her spell over the poor man, and before long, his uncontrollable, joyful spasms of bliss had killed him. It was a sight that was nothing short of revolting, and Euphemia had vowed never to use the power again after being the cause of such horrible suffering. Even now, nearly a year later, she had to shut her eyes at the memory, the tears beginning to well up. "I was too afraid to use it at all."
"Oh, on the contrary, my dear. You have indeed gained a mastery over that demonic power I blessed you with. It was not fear of your power that prevented you from using it, but rather respect for that power. You understood better than any of my previous companions the consequences of using such power without restraint. In doing so, you came to hold a great respect for the power that you posses, and as a result, you have gained mastery over it. You are indeed ready to take my place."
Euphemia kept her eyes shut, for she was now too weak to reopen them. "But B.B. in order to take your place, I'd have to kill you. You of all people should know that I could never do something like that."
He winced at the sheer irony of her statement, since she had just slaughtered thousands of innocent Japanese. He was grateful that she didn't see his reaction. How stubborn this girl was. Even on her deathbed, she refused to accept the gift of immortality from a dear friend who craved so badly to be rid of it. However, he wouldn't let that stand in his way now. He grasped her hand with his.
"I'm sorry to force this on you, Euphie, but I'm certain you'll thank me for it someday." She gasped involuntarily as she felt a great tingling sensation run up her arm, as an immense amount of power and energy flowed from his arm to hers. He had forcibly transferred his code to her. Sighing, he prepared himself for what he had to do next. Her futile efforts to stop him continued despite how much progress he had made.
"B.B…" she implored weakly, her eyes remaining shut.
"I won't take 'no' for an answer, Euphie. Just know that I do this for your own good; for your survival." He sighed once more. The time was drawing near. "I knew you would never go through with this if you had your way. However, it seems these grim circumstances have granted me some good luck. You know I hate to tell lies to you, Euphie, but remember, this is for your own good."
Clearing his throat, he prepared the lie that he knew would leave her no choice but to kill him.
"Euphie, I'm Japanese." Her eyes shot open immediately, ringed with red light.
Several weeks later, the bloody corpse of a green-haired young man was found in a corridor of the Avalon, a scalpel protruding from his neck. Nobody knew who he was, how he had gotten there, or by whom he had been killed.
The room was painfully silent, save for the slow, weak beeping of the EKG attached to Euphie's chest. Suzaku gazed morosely at the pin he held loosely in his hands. It was the same pin that had been awarded to him by his princess – the one that designated him as her knight. Being allowed the privilege to carry such a pin meant that he had to guarantee the princess' safety, a vow which he had taken gladly and with ease, as well as seriousness and determination. Yet all the same, he had failed to uphold that most imperative vow with just as much ease as he had sworn it. How hypocritical he felt.
He kept staring at the pin, contemplating his own failure. So narrow was his focus upon it that he hardly even noticed the presence of Lloyd and Cecile, standing beside him as always. The longer he stared at the pin, however, the more he simply wanted to break down, collapse to the floor, and wail in agony once more. He could not stand being so close to his princess, who was lying comatose in front of him, without knowing her fate. Every passing second made it more difficult for him to withhold the immeasurable torrent of tears that still persisted underneath his eyes. It only became even more difficult when the silence was broken by the horribly distorted voice of his princess, her eyes slowly beginning to open.
"Suzaku…" she whispered hoarsely, her words distorted both by the respirator she wore and the sterile, plastic wall of the medical capsule which shielded her from the rest of the room. Obliging her, Cecile disabled both of the obtrusive devices before leaving the room with Lloyd in tow. The princess and the knight were alone.
Suzaku was immediately inundated with an innumerable quantity of emotions. He experienced so many different feelings in that one instant, that his facial expression reflected absolutely none of them, for the sheer quantity was too great. On the one hand, he was overjoyed that his beloved princess was alright, at least momentarily. On the other, he wanted to question her and make sense of all that had happened that day. She had clearly undergone some sort of interaction with Zero…did she know who he was? Still another part of him wished for nothing other than a silent, grateful embrace with her. He wasn't sure if he wanted to weep, kiss her, or interrogate her. In the end, he decided to pursue a mixture of approaches that would satisfy as many of his cravings as possible.
"Euphie, I have to know," he began with a gentle voice, "why did you give that order?"
"Order…What order? What are you talking about?" she replied weakly, but quizzically.
Suzaku was nothing short of flabbergasted. "You mean you really don't remember?" he questioned out of pure shock.
"Never mind that…Suzaku," she responded, eyes beginning to glow once more, "you're Japanese aren't you?"
Shocked, and suddenly filled with an overwhelmingly foreboding feeling of what was going through Euphie's mind, Suzaku implored her. "Euphie, what are you…?"
Cutting him off, she gasped suddenly. Her mind raced and her heart beat erratically as she fought to suppress the malignant command, manifesting itself once more in her mind. "No I- I musn't! I musn't even think such a thing. I could never harm Suzaku…" she trailed off at the end, shutting her eyes in one final effort to regain control of her mind. All the while, Suzaku watched on, unable to even comprehend what was occurring before him. Something was terribly wrong; she was not herself at all. But alas, there was nothing he could do, so all he could manage was to stare at her, mouth agape in shock.
Finally, she reopened her eyes, which seemed disturbingly sadder and less lively than they had mere seconds earlier. "How strange," she mused weakly, "I can't see your face anymore."
At that, he began to lose control. A single, rebellious tear managed to escape his eye, landing on the pin which now lay forgotten in his lap. It was joined by more of its brethren when he lovingly took the hand she offered, and discovered how nauseatingly cold she had become, in the process. He fought back the urge to vomit.
"How was the ceremony? Did I do okay? Are the Japanese happy?"
Suzaku was completely devastated. She truly had forgotten everything. The situation was bad enough as it was, but now it seemed as though he would have to relive all the terrible events that led up to it, if he was to tell his princess the truth. "Euphie…the Special Zone was…" And yet, he could not bring himself to tell her the truth, for it was now painfully clear that his princess was drawing her final breaths. He could not, in good conscience, cause her such grief when she was so near the end of her life. So, as painful as it was, he lied to her, for her protection.
"…a complete success! The Japanese people were so happy. They were given their home back, and it's all thanks to you, Euphie," he said, tears falling even more rapidly now.
"Oh thank God!" she gasped, looking as though some large weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and perhaps even her conscience. Suzaku was consoled slightly by seeing her relief, but such consolation still seemed insignificant to the inhuman level of grief he still bore. He was praying desperately to whatever god or deity might listen; hoping against all hope that this would not be the last conversation he shared with her. Unfortunately, her next words did little to give him confidence that his prayers were working.
"Keep…keep going to school, Suzaku. I had to stop…before I could finish."
"Don't talk like that Euphie, there's still time! You can still go!" Things were getting far too real for him. He wanted so desperately to sprint out of the room and deny reality. Unfortunately, he was all too aware that he was not dreaming. His princess was actually dying, and she knew it. Still, part of him refused to accept it. "I know! Why don't you enroll at Ashford Academy with me? The student council is so much fun!" The tears gushed forth anew when he realized how naïvely overoptimistic he was being.
"Euphie…" he choked.
She merely smiled at him, which did little in the way of comfort. "You have to do it…for me, Suzaku."
He gazed back at her through his tear-blurred vision, trying unsuccessfully to return her smile. Even as she lay dying, and even through his blurry vision, she still seemed strikingly beautiful to him. He was quickly filled with the desire to kiss her; to seize her mouth with his and breathe life anew into her lungs. He wanted to kiss her and rekindle their fiery, passionate love for each other that they had expressed so freely and joyously not twenty-four hours earlier. After a few seconds, though, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, sighing in exhaustion. He knew she was too far gone for love alone to save her.
"No, Euphie don't go! Please don't go!" he screamed, but to no avail. She was so close, and yet so far gone. She whispered her last words to him, almost inaudibly.
"Oh Suzaku…I'm so happy right now…I'm so…happy…"
*BEEEEEEEEP*
The EKG flat lined. Within an instant, a cavalcade of doctors, nurses, and surgeons rushed into the room. Frantically, they did all they could to attempt to resuscitate her, but it was no use. It took three of the strongest among them to finally drag Suzaku out of the room, kicking and screaming all the way.
The door slid open, seeming to make an unusually large amount of noise as it did so. Suzaku staggered forth, ragged and defeated, into his temporary quarters aboard the Avalon. Large, dark rings framed the bottoms of his eyes, his hair was mussed, and his pupils were stained with red from a ceaseless, tormenting flow of tears. As he stepped into the room, the door slid shut behind him automatically. To him, it was reminiscent of a prison cell slamming shut, for he felt imprisoned by the horrible circumstances that were the day's events. All of a sudden, and seemingly without explanation, his very reason for existence – his beautiful, lovely princess − had vanished. She was gone forever. If his reason for living had disappeared, then that left only one logical conclusion…
He attempted to take a step forward, but instantly collapsed onto his hands and knees. One hand he held clutched over his heart, where a sudden, piercing pain had set in with surprising abruptness. "No…" he groaned helplessly.
It was no use. There was no way he could stop thinking about her; about their final night together; about the last words she spoke to him. Ever present in his mind was that image of endlessly long pink hair, and a grin so optimistic that it could disarm even the most hostile of foes. Though it was a pleasant memory, it now caused him nothing but pain, for he knew that it was no longer reality. She was gone. The pain in his chest grew more profound, and he clenched the fist over his heart even more forcefully. His breathing became more labored, and his groans more frequent. He began to perspire, and his vision began to blur with tears as the image in his head began to fade.
"Euphie…no…" he panted feebly.
She was still barely within arm's reach. So desperately he wanted to reach after her. At that moment, he desired nothing more than to seize her in his arms and melt into her warm, loving embrace. Unfortunately, it was no use; by the time he summoned the strength to mentally extend an arm forward, she was already moving away. The image in his mind was blurring, as was his vision. She was getting farther and farther away from him, and there was nothing he could do. It was utterly hopeless.
"Euphie!" he called in a vain effort to keep her from leaving him. It was naïve and foolish, yes, but knowing that did little to prevent him from doing so. Unfortunately for him, she was too far gone to return, for such was inevitable. How could all of this be happening to him? Just when it seemed that his life was finally taking a turn for the better, all hell had broken loose. He had met a woman more perfect than anything he had ever imagined. Yet now, so soon after they had fallen so hopelessly in love with each other, she had been viciously ripped from his arms. Could it have been that fate was simply taunting him the whole time; dangling a beautiful woman and a joyous life before him like a carrot before a donkey? Could it all have simply been a cruel joke – some twisted prank played by the forces of fate designed specifically to cause him suffering? It seemed almost too cruel to be true, and yet the more he thought about it, the more realistic it seemed. The thought did little to console him, and his princess was now slipping even farther out of his grasp.
"EUPHIE!"
No, there was no way it was true, he told himself. Certainly, the world was a cruel place, but such a level of cruelty seemed far beyond the realm of possibility. There was no way his beautiful, harmless princess could have been used like a mere pawn by the gods of fate, just to cause him further anguish. Yet all the same, he heard a distant, joyously evil cackling, mocking him. A thought came into his head – could it have been the forces of Karma at work against him? In the past, he had cruelly and selfishly robbed his own father of his life; could that action from nearly a lifetime ago now be coming back to haunt him? It made sense…too much sense. He was suddenly revolted with himself. Of course, he had felt bad about his actions, and he was not one to take murder lightly. Indeed, he had carried the deed with him for all his life. It was the driving force behind his decision to join the Brittanian military, ironically enough. But this…this went far beyond any level remorse he had felt previously. To think that murdering his father could have in turn led to the death of his beloved Euphie; it made him feel nothing less than masochistic, for he became so disgusted with himself that he began to desire physical torture as punishment. Could it really have been his fault all along?
"no…" he whispered, sobbing.
His hands balled into fists, fingers clutching the carpeted floor so tightly that they began to bleed. As much as he wanted so desperately to deny it, he was now thoroughly convinced that it was indeed all his fault. His princess – his beautiful, harmless princess, who had only wanted to bring peace and happiness to the world – had been brutally murdered in the midst of a genocide, and it was his fault. His selfish actions had led him to this point; had condemned him to failure. How badly now, he wanted to take back those foolish, idiotic actions from so long ago. Had he known back then the inhuman pain it would cause him, maybe…
Though it pained him to do so, he clenched his fists even tighter. His fingers left long, bloody red streaks in the carpet as he did so. Even still, he barely noticed it, for no amount of pain could even remotely compare to the inhuman level of torture he was experiencing within his heart and mind. It was absolutely arduous. Everything he did pained him now; it seemed that the pain worsened with every breath he took. All the while, he could still think of only one thing: his princess, who was now just a miniscule speck in the distance. That did him in. Throwing his head back, he wailed skyward in agony as half of his soul − which had fused with Euphie's in a pinnacle of mutual love on that magical evening so long ago − was brutally and viciously ripped away from him, only to be cast aside and trampled upon. A gaping, festering wound was left in its stead. Almost immediately, it seemed as though someone had thrown a bucket of salt into the wound, causing him to scream anew. There seemed to be no end to the amount of agony he was enduring. The loss of his princess was simply too traumatic; he would not have been surprised if he spent the remainder of his life in that room screaming, no matter how long or short that span of time might be. More and more the wound swelled, and the pain did indeed continue incessantly. His mind was completely empty – too overloaded with pain to be able to form any sort of conscious thought, even if he wanted to. Even as his voice grew hoarse, he continued to scream and to lament. He was so tortured that he practically reveled in the pain, approaching it fearlessly. Pain gave him purpose and meaning – the things now lacking in his life. So on and on, he wailed. Though his room was soundproof, hauntingly tortured sounds were heard several decks above, emanating from the floors.
--- --- ---
"Geass?"
Suzaku repeated what the mysterious child − who had appeared on the Avalon seemingly out of nowhere − had just told him.
"That's correct, Zero possesses a supernatural power known as Geass," the strange child said again.
"No…That's impossible."
Suzaku was disbelieving. What reason did he have to believe this child, who referred to himself only as V.V., especially when the things he said sounded so impossibly ridiculous? As such, Suzaku's immediate reaction was to label the child as a wistful runaway who was simply being imaginative, and had somehow found his way aboard the ship. Yet that description did not quite fit the boy, for he wore clothes far too expensive-looking to belong to a stray. In fact, they almost seemed as if they were meant for royalty. Suzaku's next thought was to simply label the child as a mental case, ignore what he was saying, and escort him off the ship. Unfortunately, that theory was cast out the window as well, when the child continued speaking.
"How then do you explain princess Euphemia's sudden change in behavior? What about you; how do you account for your own actions on Shikine Island? Believe what you want, but the truth is undeniable."
Suzaku was struck to the core. As far-fetched as it was, the child's argumentation made sense. Though he remembered his actions on Shikine Island, Suzaku had never stopped to consider how or why he had acted in such a manner. His life had simply gotten too busy to devote any thought to the subject, thanks in no small part to Euphie's confession of her love for him. His mood darkened once more as his thoughts returned to Euphie, lying dead in front of him. He was in such shock – both from her death and the strange child's revelation – that he hardly had time to react to it all. He swiveled in his chair to face her, lying still inside the medical capsule. He placed a hand on the cold plastic, morosely aware that her body was most likely just as cold by now. The tears came once more, and he doubted that he would be able to force them to stop, this time. Seeing this, the child turned to leave, but stopped in the threshold of the doorway, speaking one last time.
"Suzaku Kururugi, you know what I have said is true. If you understand that, then you'll know that there is now only one logical mission for you." He paused, making sure that Suzaku was listening, then turned his head and spoke again. "You must kill Zero."
The door slid shut, and Suzaku was alone once more.
--- --- ---
Suzaku looked stoically determined as he zipped up his flight suit. Though it had taken an almost insurmountable level of torture and anguish to do so, he had finally realized that the strange child from before, V.V., had been right all along. There was a simpler explanation to everything that had occurred on that horrid day, and it all revolved around Zero. He should have realized it from the beginning, for only after contact with Zero did either he or Euphie begin acting strangely. The answer was so obvious, he had simply been far too devastated to think clearly, and so instead had blamed his plight on various gods that he was not certain even existed. Still, he supposed that some of the conclusions he had made during that period remained valid. He had been naïve when he fell in love with Euphie. He had been foolish enough to believe that she alone, with her kind words, could change the world and bring peace and equality to all. That certainly did not change how he felt about her, for he still loved her greatly – even more so now that she was gone − it simply changed his opinion of his own level of gullibility. Now, he realized that his initial methods were still the most reliable: focus on the mission, play by the rules, and use the system to achieve your ideals. By that logic, there was only one clear goal for him; only one clear mission for him to undertake. And if he was successful, he would get the answers he sought. As the zipper reached the top of his suit, he rolled his shoulders in preparation to set out on this most paramount of missions.
"Zero. I'm going to KILL YOU!"
Mere miles away, the one known as Zero cackled evilly beneath his mask as the entirety of Japan fell to his control, one city at a time…
So that's about how long the time span between updates should be for this story, on average. It shouldn't be too bad, especially compared to other stories. I believe it's been exactly one month to the day that I published the first chapter, so that should give me a nice concrete schedule to work by. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this second installment of "Fate's Twisted Humor." Thanks for the favorites/alerts/reviews so far, please keep them coming! See you all next time.
