Code Geass: Snow of the Rebellion

by sayume214

They say history is meant to be repeated. Schneizel was placed in the the throne under Lelouch's control but broke free. Britannia will threaten the world again. This time, it is her turn to stop him. She will become the new Zero as a new battle unfolds. Action, psychological.

4. Old Friends Appear in Times of War

Thanks to Everlasting Star for alerting this story and to fierysuzaku, Crystal of Moonlight and WolfWings-MoonNight for reviewing! I truly appreciate the support. Don't lose faith in me, because the original characters will appear further on! Please be patient. :) In other news, you might be aware I posted a new story called G H O S T for One Piece. You're welcome to read it. However, I tell you, that is my fourth priority out of four. This one came before, so it still is before that one. :) Also, while this fic is meant to have a lot of similarities with the original story for the moment, I promise the story will vary and have a differing plot at some point.

Information note: In guns, caliber refers to the approximate diameter of the barrel and by extension the projectile used in it, measured in inches or millimeters.

STAGE 4

Old Friends Appear in Times of War

The noise of war halted suddenly, as if a remote control's mute button had been pressed. Sophia watched how the battle below ceased. Nobody's eyes could help lingering in the corpse of Baron Brandon Carlson.

The Baron's body lied in the floor under a pool of blood that oozed from his head. Falling from 14 stories usually has that effect. It wasn't likely anyone at the moment suspected the cause of his death was actually a gun's bullet. His face's expression, though lifeless, showed inklings of fear. Maybe he had woken up from his trance at the last second of the existence the Princess of Britannia had forced him to end; it had been induced suicide, murder.

Heads eventually looked up to the upper floor's window from which the body had fallen.

Sophia had left the room as soon as Baron Carlson's body crashed to the ground. She now stood in the very rooftop, at a distance from the edge to avoid her shadow being seen, but she could see the ones below. The view was that of a battle that ended because there was no longer a reason to fight it. Her face was cunning and her eyes conniving.

She then turned to Z.Z., who simply stood there, looking at her keenly and silently. She turned her eyes to the nocturnal view of a dead battle again.

-How did you get here? – Sophia asked without turning to him. – You are still wearing those bloody clothes, not even bothered with camouflage. How could you have followed me up here without major consequences?

-I was seen. – He answered as-a-matter-of factly. – I just had to struggle with one, take his gun and run discreetly.

Sophia turned to him with an arched eyebrow. She really didn't understand who Z.Z., not even close, nor was she yet able to see a limit in what he was capable of.

Z.Z. walked to her side and stared outside without looking at her either.

-Did you cut your hand? – He guessed and wanted confirmation.

Indeed, Sophia was yet far from knowing Z.Z.'s abilities well. His senses seemed too well-trained to belong to an average being. His physical condition was above average, at the least. He also seemed to have experience handling handguns. Right when he had aimed for the head of the lackey of Sir King, so close to her, he shot without any problems. He had just told her he was capable of defeating a trained soldier in bodily combat. Apparently, he also happened to be observant, even of the smallest details such as her hand being bandaged.

-Yeah. – Was her simple reply.

She turned her head. Her eyes did not focus on Z.Z., though. Something else, close toa kilometer away, caught her eye.

Her violet eyes immediately widened as she recognized what she saw. Z.Z. looked in that direction too.

-Knightmare frames. – He spoke unfazed. – Do they belong to the Britannian Army? – He asked her.

-Not only do they belong to the Britannian Army, those frames are all colored white. That's the Marshal's Unit. – She replied frowning.

Sophia gritted her teeth. This was not part of her calculations for the night. Marshall Wellington, the highest ranking officer of the army, was there. While she would not lose in strategy-making to him and she found the thought of retreating highly unpleasant, she was aware that was just what she'd have to go for. The terrorists, considering their numbers and situation, had no chance of defeating a unit of at least fifty squads and several elite pilots and officers in Seventh Age Knightmare Frames, the best Britannia could offer.

-The Marshal of the Britannian Army is here? – He asked sounding a tad more disbelieving than confused. – Why would someone of his importance be here? I believe his duty is only to act under conditions more threatening than a mere terrorist attack.

-That is because there is no way they could've organized the entire Marshal unit just for a terrorist attack. – Sophia confirmed with narrowed eyes. – He is called out for much more serious matters…

Sophia's eyes suddenly showed hindsight as she fell silent. She tightened her fists with anger as she understood. She didn't care about her cut hand palm anymore.

-Would the death of the Britannian Princess be considered a much more serious matter? – Z.Z. expressed as he understood too.

A realization began hitting Sophia, and her entire visage's expression was changing slowly, showing a scowl and curling one side of her lips downward in an upset gesture.

-Of course, why did I not see it earlier? Baron Carlson's armed forces were too much for mere precaution. He knew these terrorists would come after him tonight…! – It was then that her realization completed; her fists enclosed tightly and her scowl deepened. - That bastard had planned a bit further than I foresaw… - She said more calmly than expected.

-How further? – Z.Z. asked unfazed about her eyes that shone in understanding, looking as if in an epiphany, an inkling of something dangerous coming.

-Whatever means through which he found out of the terrorists' plans, he tried using that to his advantage. He's the one that called the Marshal's Unit here from the very beginning. He knew informing the Marshal of a threat to my life would be enough to get his forces moving. So he kidnapped me and tried to assassinate me. Once Wellington found out about the actions of the terrorist group, they would be blamed for my death without anyone bothering to look into it carefully. Because Baron Carlson would have 'tried' to help prevent my death, Schneizel would reward him by approving the commercial plan he's been trying to get approved for over a year already, which would obviously benefit him greatly, increasing his power and, like most nobles, he thinks that the more power falls into his hands, the more chances he'll have of obtaining the throne. – Sophia brought her injured hand to her forehead, and her fingers combed her front green hair, frustrated.

-What will you do then, Snow? – Z.Z. asked callously. – Can you come up with a plan to face the Marshal or will you escape?

She gritted her teeth and her hand's grasp on her head tightened. She paid no mind to her cut's stinging sensation. She did not like one bit the idea of escaping, but she did not have enough pieces to play in the board. No matter how good a plan she could come up with in such short notice, the conditions in which the terrorists forces were weren't close to threatening against the Marshal's Unit. She could not think of a plan to win against him.

What would you do, Father? (…) – Her face lit up. – You wouldn't retreat. If your pieces can't go to battle, you would merely find another way to grasp victory without having to fight…

Sophia took one more step to bring herself even closer to the shattered window. She had it. The way of grasping victory without fighting; she got it. A slight grin formed on her features before turning to Z.Z. She needed not to mention any word; he knew just by looking at her violet eyes she was not planning on escaping, but he knew she was aware the terrorists were no match to the Knightmare Frames approaching slowly.

-What will you do, Snow? – He asked again to inquire for more specific information.

-We'll have to avoid fighting, but we can still escape without the terrorists getting captured.

-Why go so far for just a group of terrorists? Did you see a lot of potential in them?

-Considering the menu of active terrorist groups isn't very varied, I believe this group might have the best shot; they are worth saving in order to see if they can be used as base.

-How will you do it?

Sophia smiled before explaining.

Meanwhile, below, the fight was resumed. Sir King's forces weren't oblivious to the corpse of their leader bleeding in the ground, but they, humans as they were, still fought despite knowing it was to no avail or cause.

In a matter of minutes, however, the rest of the forces began retreating as it hit them it was pointless to keep fighting.

-They're retreating. – Okazaki Syusuke announced, grinning.

-No kidding, you sure about that? 'Cause that would explain why we're no longer defending ourselves. – Sarcastic Tsugimoto Kaya replied, smiling discreetly with joy.

-It's over. – Shiro said, still in disbelief.

She really did it. – The three terrorists thought as they glanced up to a distinct broken window.

-Shiro, Kaya, Syusuke – San. – They heard Len call by the transmitter. – How are things going in your end?

-We won. – Shiro informed.

Len was bemused as he didn't sound as excited as one would figure triumph would get him. He heard the details from Syusuke. He couldn't believe the female voice commanding them had truly led them to victory.

Len himself was asked to report too and gave details concerning the released Eleven and the ship they'd use for transport, as well as the strange methods through which it all happened.

-Syusuke – San, I don't know what to think about it. – Len expressed seriously. - It's too suspicious, isn't it?

-Why? She just made some soldiers betray Sir King's forces and release a whole lot of prisoners. What would you find suspicious about that? – Kaya replied with snide Len did not appreciate.

-Syusuke – San. – Len insisted.

Syusuke Okazaki was like a leader to them, and the only one he'd address by 'San' out of respect.

-Suspicious as it is, she did give us what she promised. – Syusuke replied after a pause. – We might have to wait for further explanations.

-Tch. What an unimpressive leader. – Kaya insulted; she was the only one who did not address him respectfully.

-I don't know why… - Shiro talked all of a sudden. – But I have a strange feeling about that voice. I cannot really say what it is, but I agree we should give her a chance…

Kaya narrowed her eyes, Syusuke hummed in deep thought and Len's eyes grew more open, but nobody said a word. They decided to just accept Syusuke's decision.

Back in the abandoned factory, there were several armed men surrounding it from all angles and a few others inside, searching for Princess Sophia vi Britannia, Marshal Marshall Wellington included.

-Have you found her? – He asked reporting soldiers.

-Negative, sir. – They replied saluting. – We've looked everywhere in this factory but there is no trace of her.

-What about the room filled with chloroform gas?

-It's being looked into by a protected team, sir. While there is no body in that room, there are inklings of someone having been imprisoned there when the gas was released.

The Marshal nodded. He didn't doubt the Princess had been in that place, but it was odd. That was the second time an attempt to kill her took place within 24 hours, and this time was even clearer than before. Someone was truly trying to murder Britannia's Princess. It made nose sense to him for anyone to want to oppose Britannia's strength…

-Marshal Wellington, sir! – A man called him.

Wellington turned to meet a man that ran to where he was hastily and was all sweaty.

-Yes. – He let him talk.

-We've spotted a battle taking place nearby, sir! – He exclaimed despite seeming to be out of breath. - We suspect terrorists are involved. What are your orders?

Marshall Wellington frowned slightly. Are terrorists really the ones behind this? It does not seem to fit. Why would they kill the Princess discreetly? Brandon Carlson is yet to specify how come he knew about this…

-Sir! – Another man came in the same fashion as the previous one, getting his attention. – We believe the place where the terrorists fought a private army is being occupied by Sir King!

Sir King. It is not secret his true identity is Baron Carlson.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a noise from the ceiling. Right above them was the room where Sophia and Z.Z. had been locked and was currently (and unnecessarily) being investigated.

The real question to investigate is how she managed to escape alive.

-Sir? – The first soldier to arrive asked. - What are your orders?

The Marshal's dark brown eyes turned to the already-stiff man in all their cool glory.

-The Marshal shall personally go to examine the location. – A voice began, attracting several heads' attention to himself. – A group of frame pilots must accompany him. Those terrorists daring to insult this nation must be captured and even tortured to see if they are connected to the kidnapping of our Princess, of course! That is the obvious way to proceed!

The Marshal of Britannia turned to the bespectacled man wearing white with a black cape.

-Are you giving me orders?

Rather than upset, Wellington looked as if he were suppressing the need to lift an eyebrow, like when a kid says an absurd joke, and that was not very common to see in a cold man like him.

-I am telling you what your orders should be! – The King's royal counselor exclaimed sounding nearly insulted. – The media might find out of this, do you want them to also publish the culprits were not captured? It would be a disgrace!

-What the press publishes is none of my concern. Besides, I do not suspect those terrorists had anything to do with this.

-Is that the response you want me to give to His Majesty? – Jonathan Lewis snarled indignant.

Wellington narrowed his eyes, starting to get impatient. He wasn't necessarily fond of the King's counselor.

-How is that man threatening the Marshal? – A soldier whispered to another from a distance. – The Marshal of Britannia is like the King's right hand…

-I AM THE KING'S RIGHT HAND! - Jonathan turned mad to the soldiers.

The soldiers looked like they had not suspected he'd have a keen sense of listening, though it was only keen when it came to insults for him.

Right that moment, Wellington's wristwatch made a sound to inform of an incoming video call. His face and posture straightened as he answered with a salutation.

-Your Majesty, sir. – He answered.

From the watch a flat projection of the King smiling deceivingly could be seen.

-Marshal Wellington. – Schneizel greeted. – I've been informed within this hour of my niece's abduction. I request for your report on the situation.

-The place where we were told we'd find the Princess is empty. There is no trace of the Princess yet, but there is no doubt she was held here.

-I see… – Schneizel put on a sad face. – My poor niece. To think someone is restlessly attempting to murder her without letting even a day pass. She must be devastated.

Before Wellington could offer some sort of condolences (though Sophia wasn't dead), Jonathan took his wrist and aimed it at his own face.

-Your Majesty, there is something else Marshal Wellington has not reported.

After a minute of countless hyperboles of Britannia's greatness and the offense they should feel towards the terrorists for daring to attack the same Princess he had hours ago said to she was better off dead, Schneizel turned to the Marshal and gracefully asked him to look into that group of terrorists to be able to discard any possibility of his dear niece having been put through such an awful mishaps by them. The Marshal's only choice was to comply with a salutation.

Wellington retired to his quarters, which consisted of a mobile tall structure. It was ideal for a Marshal. He could see everything happening in a battle below while planning a winning strategy.

He sat and massaged his brow with one hand. He didn't like dealing with Jonathan Lewis, though he was not the only one.

Suddenly, he heard three knocks on his door.

-Come in. – He said suppressing a sigh.

The door opened and a very young woman, a teenager for that matter, appeared. She wore a uniform worn only by elite frame pilots of the Marshal's Unit, consisting of grey pants and jacket with a black tie around the neck and knee-high black boots. She was 1.69 meters tall, had very short curly black hair, skin tanned by the sun that was originally pale, and almond-shaped lime green eyes. She could be considered attractive, especially with her enviable fit body with flat abs, nice and firm limbs, small though strong hands and C-cup chest. She had an air of seriousness in her, but also a lively gaze that revealed she was a dreamer and her voice was not really that of a cold woman.

-Marshal, sir. – She saluted with notorious discipline in her every feature, and it somehow didn't look suiting in her.

-What is it, Smith? – Wellington said straightforwardly.

-I humbly request you to let me head out with you and the selected pilots. – Smith spoke solemnly while bowing.

-Why would you be interested in going? Finding the Princess is more important than terrorists.

Smith straightened her back and looked at him determined.

-I have an idea, a plan, sir. – She replied.

-Which of the two is it? – Wellington asked with little patience in his undertone.

-According to the last report, the team that examined the room with modified phosgene assures the blood found on the ground is only hours old and is enough for someone to have died from so much loss. It does not seem to belong to Princess Sophia, but the team affirms it is likely she was there with that unidentified person whose corpse is missing.

-How does that relate to what you're asking me?

Wellington narrowed his dark brown eyes but did not faze her in the least. Those vivid and gorgeous lime eyes belonged to an unflappable spirit, and Wellington knew that. Under no other circumstances or explanations a half Eleven would be part of his elite unit.

-One way or another, the Princess managed to escape, but what if she was found and taken again? – She questioned. – I have come up with an idea to look for her such that I would not be noticed, and then it would be possible to rescue the Princess without either her or us running high risks. Sir, I am not requesting to be part of the group accompanying you in fighting the terrorists, I am asking you to consider my plan to go hidden and search for the Princess there.

The Marshal of Britannia scowled, measuring what her point was. While it was possible to believe that, putting aside that he couldn't understand how the Princess escaped in the first place, he had his doubts about the rest. He knew well, especially after what had happened earlier that day when he and the Counselor met her, that Sophia vi Britannia was not just any foolish and insignificant girl who had nothing but status. He doubted she would've fallen into the terrorists' grasp after escaping; that was, if the terrorists were really the ones behind it. Only he was thinking that was just a possibility rather than a fact. While it made good sense, he couldn't shrug off the sensation it was too fitting, that something was not right there; something was suspicious. He did, however, have to act according to the King's orders…

-We don't have a lot of time; explain the plan already, Smith. – He ceded.

The three terrorist Knightmare frames were on their way to reunite with Len when a familiar girl's voice called them.

-Q two, three and four, you must not head to the pier where Q1 is. – She ordered.

-May we enquire why? – Syusuke asked.

-Tch. What the heck, Syusuke? – Kaya shouted. – Look, you brat, we don't follow your orders anymore. We already won, so you've got nothing left for us to obey you.

Sophia grinned at Kaya's challenge. She liked obedient pawns better, but she always smiled when she was about to make a daring tone change with the next move; it was a sweet sensation for her.

-The Marshal of Britannia's Unit is approaching. – She spoke slowly and clearly, determinately.

All three pilots' eyes widened in shock.

-What did you say? – Kaya exclaimed with more panic than anger.

-So you are aware of the power of the Marshal's Unit. Then you shouldn't need much convincing to retreat, Q3.

Kaya growled, but that was all she did. She knew well there was nothing she could say to her to bite back. Angered, she shut up.

-What about Len? – Shiro asked angry. – You expect us to abandon him?

-Worry not, Q2. I'll look after him.

The three Q's listened to her with surprise; they just didn't expect her to be the kind to care about one life.

Shiro's heartbeats told him he was already believing in her, a stranger, trusting her to save whom he considered his closest friend's life, and he found it so easy to do that he could hardly believe it since his very head was still hesitant.

-Is it not time for introductions yet? – He asked the voice.

-Not yet. – Sophia responded.

Shiro couldn't reply anything as she cut down the transmission before giving him that chance.

Who are you? – He asked with something close to anxiety. – Why do I feel strange about you when I've only heard you?

While Shiro was thinking and escaping with the other two at the same time, Sophia contacted Len.

-The Marshal's Unit is approaching. – She let the words out straight, like facts and with no tact.

Len's heart skipped a beat. The Marshal's Unit was not something he hadn't heard of. He was aware of the power it possessed with a large number of squads and several Eight and Seventh Age Knightmare frames. All of that was coming to him. He felt done for already.

-What did you say? – Len asked aggravated without screaming, though he wanted to. – The Marshal's Unit is coming?

-You must stay there and make sure the prisoners get on that ship to escape, Q1. – Sophia repeated to him.

-How can you believe that would happen when what could be several elite pilots in Seventh and Eight Age Knightmare Frames are coming this way? – His undertone could still not top a whisper from the shock and nervousness.

-For a terrorist, your faith in miracles is quite lousy.

-I'm being serious here! – He could finally yell, much to his throat's relief.

Sophia paused, grinning on the other side of the line.

-Have I given you a reason not to trust me so far, Q1?

-Just because you helped us before doesn't mean you can't betray us now.

-It would have been pointless helping you earlier, then.

Len could not think of a rebuttal.

-You'll have to trust me. – She finished before ending the call.

She doesn't ask for my trust, she expects it… And I can't refuse to give it to her. Even though it's against my will, I already trust you, whoever you might be. I know this is not smart, but it is what it is…

He continued waiting for the free prisoners to aboard the ship. He looked at each of their Japanese faces and he knew it was worth waiting there to protect them. Kotaro would've done it without hesitating.

-All instructions delivered. – Sophia spoke softly after ending the call.

She wasn't really speaking to anyone in particular, so Z.Z. didn't bother replying. Z.Z. only stood where he was.

Sophia could see him from the far corner of her right eye. For a while already, it had picked her attention that Z.Z. seemed incapable of getting bored; he would always stand still as a statue, never even blinking.

Yuuki could do the same. - Sophia's irises contracted.

She stopped her own train of thoughts and turned her face away from Z.Z.'s visual reach.

Why am I thinking of her now of all times? – Sophia asked herself in disbelief.

Her expression changed momentarily. A mixture of different emotions could be appreciated in her porcelain face.

Sophia reached for her uniform, which was dirty and blood-stained at that point, and took something from inside her skirt's pocket. It was a pocket watch. She did not need it to tell the time, for she already had a wristwatch for that. She opened it and looked like she was pondering hard about doing something in specific with what she had in her hand. A sigh on her part indicated she gave up in doing whatever she had in mind.

How long has it been since I last thought of her? How long has it been since I turned the black button? How long has it been since I've dared to look at the picture? – Even though it was an inward thought, she still could only whisper it.

-Snow? – Z.Z. asked her suddenly.

Sophia returned to the real world, closing the lid of the pocket watch in the process, before she turned to face him. She was slightly grateful to him for that, though he would never know what he did for her. She didn't want to be in that hole of angst again. For years, she had done her very best to avoid falling in it again.

Z.Z. could see her somewhat startled face. He knew she was thinking of something else, though not what it was specifically. Belike, it had something to do with that pocket watch. However, he was not the kind that pried into others' business, and that time was not the exception. He was not that interested either.

-Yes, what is it? – Sophia finally understood he had called her.

Z.Z. closed his eyelids. Despite setting those barriers between their eyes, his body still moved to face another direction.

-Will you do anything while we wait for the Marshal's Unit? – He asked.

-There's not much we can do. We mostly wait. I've already thought of several possibilities and options… Once they come close enough, I'll cover the rest of the distance.

Z.Z. knew she was only attempting to appear alright. Because he knew that, her attempt was a failure.

-You remembered something, didn't you? – Z.Z. opened his eyes but did not look at her.

'I just remembered whom I got my temper from', she was about to tell him.

-It's nothing. – She lied after all.

He knew it was a lie. He could tell 'nothing' was 'something', and 'something' was evidently very important to her.

He let silence take in briefly. He turned to her again. This time it was her who avoided looking at him directly in the ocean blue eyes.

-Earlier… - He began, catching her attention and look, still not to his eyes. – Earlier, you said I hide myself from your sight, 'putting up barriers', using your own words.

Sophia turned her head sideways with a displeased frown.

-I am not reproaching you for it, Snow. I am merely asking you to understand there are things we can't just say to others.

-That's not it. – She whispered, but she was loud enough to be heard. – It's not the same. – She still wouldn't look his way when she lowered her eyes. – You block yourself entirely from me. I haven't hidden anything from you yet, Z.Z…

Her lips continued moving, but her voice didn't. Z.Z. was not the most accurate lip-reader, but he could make out 'I just don't want to talk about it. I don't want to remember it'. He hadn't seen before that time her pink lips move so feebly.

Z.Z. crossed his arms in front of his chest disapprovingly.

-I shall remind you where you are standing right now, Snow. – He said gravely. – That portrayal is far too weak. If you really plan to stand in Zero's shadow, then you must do better than this, much better.

-How did you…? – Sophia finally turned to his face.

-Remember I can listen to your heart.

-Of course, that makes sense. – She said sarcastic.

There was an awkward pause next. Z.Z. wouldn't lose to her there, however. He was not only superior to her in physical strength, he also, as she noted before (and then deviated into the current situation), he doesn't mind silence and waiting. That was not her case. Of course she'd fold. She blurted out a random out of the many questions she had in mind about him, anything that would break the silence would do.

-Z.Z., how come you have your Geass and the Code? I thought you had to exchange one for the other. The only one who had both was…

-I will not answer any questions, Snow. – He interrupted straightforwardly.

-Why not? – She asked blankly.

One would assume she'd feel insulted, angry, something. She didn't. Her voice sounded void for that reason, she didn't react to those words. In truth, she did want to know, but she didn't feel the need to know that moment. She asked out of necessity to speak, not to listen.

-They're close. – He commented.

Sophia turned outside. It was time. She made a bet with herself. If she could pull it off, she might have one tenth of what was necessary to follow the steps of Lelouch vi Britannia.

Sophia took a deep breath. In a brief instant, she was able to return to who she was moments ago, a focused and resolved person willing to play the game of war.

-I better hurry. Q1 will only be able to hold against the Marshal's Unit for so long, and he's about to call me any minute. What will you do, Z.Z.?

-I do not know. – He said dully.

-Do what you want. It does not matter to me unless it interferes with my plans. – She replied coldly, right before closing the door behind her.

When the freed slaves were sailing the waters to escape, Len picked up the transmitter.

He wanted to know where the others were, but he got no response. The others had probably turned off the transmitters so they wouldn't be detected

Len was about to try with Kotaro's radio transmitter but stopped in the middle. Kotaro was dead; he knew that but was yet to process it completely. He also realized that calling Kotaro's transmitter meant to call her. He thought about it a minute. Actually, that wasn't such a bad idea; he had to anyways.

-Do you hear me? – He called her.

-Loud and clear, Q1. – She replied.

-The ship has sailed. – He informed.

-Good. – She replied simply.

Len noticed how unsurprised she was at his report. He himself felt it was a miracle he had managed to achieve their original goal that night, to free the prisoners…

-Have the others moved? – He asked.

-Yes.

-Why did they turn off their transmitters?

-To not be detected by the Unit's tracking systems. – She replied as-a-matter-of-factly.

It was obvious. He himself knew the reason before asking, and he asked anyways. However, he didn't like that tone in her, unreasonable as it was to feel offended for that. After all, at so advanced a point in the early morning, he should know better than to expect good manners or soothing courtesy from that voice. That time, nonetheless, she did sound different. She didn't sound as objective, straightforward and focused as she had earlier.

What's with her all of a sudden? – Len lifted an eyebrow.

Little did he know Sophia on the other side of the line was conscious of what she sounded like and was scowling as well. She was still struggling due to the happenings that were only minutes old.

Once the door of memories is opened, closing it is too hard… - She mused. – Curse it. I cannot mess this up. I cannot.

-Where-?

-Is your frame equipped with anything particularly advantageous? – Sophia interrupted him.

Len frowned skeptical for the nature of that question.

-It might. – He refused to sound submissive.

Sophia grinned. She knew what 'it might' actually meant… Perhaps I underestimated these people a bit. Only slightly.

-Why do you ask that all of a sudden? – He enquired.

-There's not much time to give you that many details. – She replied.

Len suppressed the urge to growl at her. That bitch just told me there is no need for me to know them, didn't she? Who the hell does this girl think she is?

He calmed down, remembering the situation he was in.

-Where do I join the others? – He asked while attempting to sound tranquil, but Sophia would not be tricked.

-You won't be joining them. – She replied simply. Her voice was tactless; her words came down like a judge's gavel for which his head acted as block.

Len stopped breathing. He was paralyzed. He felt as if she had injected fear into his bloodstream with 4 words. Even courageous and willful men can be frightened at the thought of facing an army alone.

-You don't have enough time to escape. The Unit will arrive where you are in less than five minutes. – Sophia continued informing and, shocked as he was, Len couldn't tell her to stop. – It's useless to escape either way as they can find you easily with their tracking systems. The others aren't safe either.

-What do I do then? – He asked; his voice began showing anxiety. – What are we supposed to do?

-You can't do anything, Q1.

Len hands tightened on the controls. Those were the words he had feared hearing from that stranger all night long, and now was the worst time for her to say them.

-Are you abandoning us? – He asked.

He wanted to sound angry, betrayed, insult her and call her a bitch or a traitor or both, but the reality was another story. He even sounded skeptical, he sounded as confused as someone who thought misheard anything, as if he actually couldn't believe a perfect stranger he had never met would do that to him and the others. He had said it himself earlier, though not aloud…

'Even though it's against my will, I already trust you, whoever you might be.' Those had been his words. He was recalling them, and they felt like a punch in the face that brief yet long instant.

-Is what's happening too much for you to handle, Q1?

-Of course it is! It damn well is! – Len shouted at her non-present person.

-Then I'm disappointed at you. I don't have any further use or instructions for someone so weak.

-'Further use'? What the fuck do you want? Who the fuck are you and what do you frigging want from us? What was your purpose to help us in the first place? You've been working for the cursed government all along, haven't you?

He had been successful in sounding like he intended to. Part of him truly had those questions present, but another still felt skeptical to believe what the conundrum girl was really trying to do. That other part surely was annoying. Len just ignored it for the moment.

A pause took place.

-I am not doing this for the government. – She replied serious. – Who I am is my secret. Me telling you what I want from you all is up to you, and you only, Len.

Len was ready to reply but went mute after hearing her voice uttering his name for the first time. It took him aback momentarily.

Sophia had heard the other Q's calling his name enough times to know what to call him as well. She also was aware of the names of Q3 and Q4, Syusuke and Kaya. She already knew Syusuke was like their leader, always having the suffix 'San' added to his name. She also knew Kaya was a violent and aggressive woman, which was good. Those characteristics were seldom desired in a person, but they played out faily advantageously in combat. She knew Len and Q2, who was the only one whose name she still hadn't heard, were close friends and were alike. It's interesting how much only voices can say about their owners.

-When will you tell us any of that? After we die in the hands of Marshal Wellington? – Len asked gravely.

-Talking to corpses is absurd. – Sophia shook her head on the other side of the line. – Besides, you're not going to die.

He wasn't there with her, but he knew she shook her head. He was well-aware she didn't consider him a genius. That was her. He was her pawn.

-Is this all a damn game to you? – Len asked, sounding angrier.

Sophia didn't expect that question to come up. How appropriate. It was more appropriate than the asker realized.

She could not be entirely certain, for she wasn't a Psychology student, but the undertone he used didn't seem to be in accordance with his questions. He was actually trying her. He wanted to believe if her last sentence was meant. She decided to give that to him.

Give him something small; that will be enough for him to follow. He'll follow to get more. – She concluded.

-War is not a game, but it is played much like one. The difference is that this has a much greater purpose than entertainment. For most of history, the causes of war have been imbecile, so much that it makes war look as a means of entertainment for nations. However, I am here right now because I have a reason to be. Just like you have a reason for which you've put your life on the line, I have a reason for which I've commanded it tonight.

Len was speechless. The voice of that stranger had been more than appealing; determination reverberated from it.

You… - Len thought. – If you really are on our side…What is your reason and purpose?

-What is your name? – He asked her softly.

-Along with what I want from you, I might tell you, but that depends on you.

Those words ended being the last he heard from her that time. She turned off the radio immediately, not giving him a chance to reply.

Not five seconds passed before Len spotted the approaching Marshal's Unit pilots in their frames, less than 100 meters from where his battered Glasgowstood. There were seven Gareth and three Vincent Ward, the intended mass production of the legendary Lancelot, though they definitely weren't as powerful. Of course they wouldn't bring every one of their many pilots and go all out against mere terrorists. Heck, those probably weren't even the best of the elite pilots; the best ones used Eight Age models. Britannian pride wouldn't allow the famous Unit, the image of Britannia's great military power, to do such outrageous things.

The Gareth were at the front and the three Vincents at the back. Close to 200 meters behind them, Len spotted a gargantuan mobile 9-meter-tall structure that resembled a building, and its grey stone iron looks definitely made honor to its purpose and name, the renowned War Tower, the Marshal of Britannia's command center. Its height permitted the terrorist to detect it without much problem despite the distance.

Len knew he didn't stand the most remote chance against them. Shiro could barely take care of one, and his frame was equipped with MVS to use as a last resort. It was too late to run, he was within their sight, most probably made a target by then.

He was baffled at first; the War Tower had that effect on many. He gulped in an attempt to get control of himself back, but he needed two more in order to blink and at last take a deep breath.

There's no choice. You'll have to face them, Len. – He told himself.

He looked at his adversaries, coming closer and closer with each second. Len's Glasgow assumed a fighting stance.

I should've piloted a Gloucester today, like Shiro… - He thought. - No, not even then would I have a decent chance, what I need is at the very least a darn Vincent…Or a miracle…Or both. - He undid his own lie.

'You are not going to die.' 'It depends on you.' That's what she had told him. Had she just played with him while she indeed have another plan to help him and heroically save him when he feels he's about to lose? Had she merely spoken without any basis, just to make him feel better? No, that didn't sound like her. If he felt he knew anything for sure about the voice's owner was that she wasn't that nice. Nice people don't usually guide people in the game of killing one another called war.

Len recalled the voice, from which he wanted to know more, a whole lot more.

-Some timing she has. – He said with calmness of origins he himself didn't know.

Then he and three other Gareth clashed.

Len's brittle Glasgow only had his determination to stand a slight chance against them. He wanted to win. He wanted to make Kotaro's life be worth something. He wanted to achieve what was once achieved before thanks to Zero, the epitome of hope, victory and glory, and the mighty Black Knights. He wanted to know more of that voice. He wanted to do the impossible, and he was really going to try at it.

Despite his disadvantage in equipment, he still had a major weapon he could use that represented a small light of hope: His talent. He was a talented pilot. Both he and Shiro were. However, Shiro was better at working under a plan he himself came up with, and he had to admit he was truly brilliant with those, and, differently, Len was at his best when fighting in the spur of the moment. Len knew he had more chances than Shiro at making it in that battle.

Did she know that and send me here and not Shiro, who had a better frame? (…) Nah, no way she's that good.

Len happened to be so skilled that he could give himself the luxury of thinking something unrelated to the situation in the back of his head even then, while he evaded attacks, maneuvered lithely and delivered attacks to their backs. It was shocking to many of the Gloucester pilots to see a terrorist of such a skilled level, apparently better than them.

Len continued restlessly, and as he did more backups charged against him. His Glasgow was being shot with bullets and grenades but he could still manage to move such that they didn't hit any important parts of his frame. Fortunately, at the very least, his Glasgow's armor had been reinforced before their attack since it was the weakest Knightmare frame of the team. Sure enough, he didn't foresee this would happen, so, back then, he had no idea how much that would mean for his life that night.

On standby, the Vincent Ward, the elite pilots, observed Len. One of them whistled with surprise and then placed his permanent smile back in his face.

-Look at that terrorist; he's the craziest one I've seen yet! – He said with characteristic excitement. –Did anybody know those still existed? Heheheheh.

-He's a terrorist. What did you expect? – Another one answered with a voice that conveyed his superiority complex nicely. – Facing us all by himself, in a Glasgow no less. He isn't just demented, he's obviously stupid, an Eleven.

-He might be both crazy and stupid. – A third one suggested calmly, immediately getting the other two's attention. - Nonetheless, we must give him some credit.

-What idiocies are you saying, Ivan? – He replied indignant. – Are you complimenting terrorists?

-I'm merely stating the truth, Jim. – The other replied, not minding Jim's perfectly-usual tone; one could tell he was even smiling. - Do you not see the good beating he's giving to the Gareth pilots?

-Those are just inferior ranks! – Jim snarled.

-Heheheheh. He's got guts and is not half bad.

-Shut up, Cheshire! - Jim sounded clearly irritated, making it obvious he had heard the other's laughter more than he liked.

-But Cheshire is right, Jim. – Ivan answered with all of his monotone's glory. - That terrorist's skills are quite rare. Who knows, he might be promising enough to be a fun opponent.

-Do you think this is a game?

-War is no different from a game, Jim. – Ivan answered, still calm, but his calmness sounded eerie that time as it had his voice's unwavering ease of mind.

That instant, the terrorist they were talking about pushed off balance one of the Gareth. By then, only 3 of the original 7 remained. Taken by surprise, the others were too slow to react to him attacking them from the back and damaging their pilot cockpits, not about to give them the opportunity to eject to safety. As a final touch, he kicked the center of two and punched the third's. He defeated seven pilots of the Marshal's Unit in a Glasgow, and he didn't have a scratch, at least not one caused by those units specifically.

Len's forehead broke a sweat; he was utterly concentrated. He felt good, standing in the middle of those knocked down units. Standing up again after the damage he caused to their cockpits would jeopardize the pilots' bodies.

This was only a warm-up. – Len thought half-bitterly. - Those bastards sent their weakest puppets first. Those Vincent Ward in the very back are the actual deal… I won't go all out until they come forth. Like I'd give them the luxury of thinking they'll get rid of me with that crap!

-I won't lose. – He told the army he faced alone, knowing nobody was interested in hearing him, and he said it with a confident grin.

Effectively, more reinforcements with other frames came forward and attacked head-on but without success. Len was sure he would make it. Though he did not know what whoever that girl was had in mind, he knew she'd step forth when the time was right. How he knew that, he didn't know.

Above, a group of dark clouds eclipsed the waning moon, making it even tougher to see in the pitch black forest shore.

It has already been close to half an hour since elite pilot of the Marshal's Unit Smith seeped into the dark forest. To mix with the darkness, she wore black clothes and a black cotton mask that only let her almond-shaped green eyes visible. She had one plain goal: To look for the Princess of Britannia. While not necessarily simple, it was a plain objective.

If I found her…I wonder what it would be like. – Smith thought. – It's been a very long time, hasn't it, Yuki?

Smith suddenly heard sounds of an approaching person. She hid behind a tree trunk and waited for the person to come from the right.

Not three seconds later, a shadow was coming. Smith's trained vision could distinguish plenty of facts with just a far glance despite the obscurity.

The way that person runs suggests a woman. Dark green uniform. A helmet covers her face. She's got blood stains on her clothes, but it doesn't look like she's hurt that severely. Rather than a large weapon, she's just carrying a handgun; its caliber can't possibly be more than 0.28. – Smith narrowed her eyes. – Who could that be? A terrorist? Possibly.

Sophia was taken aback when a blurry dark shadow jumped in front of her. She instinctively jumped back but tripped, making it utterly obvious she was no trained soldier. Hence, in Smith's head, the chances of her being a terrorist increased dramatically.

Smith pointed a much bigger gun at Sophia, who had not even had the chance to stand up and had no clue about the rifle's name.

Unlike Smith, Sophia was barely able to see anything. Nature was against her since the moon was hidden. Moreover, she dropped the handgun she stole when she fell back and now it was beyond her reach.

Darn it. In this darkness I can't possibly use Geass on this guy.

-I will only ask you once, terrorist, and you better answer truthfully.

The shadow's female voice surprised Sophia. Now that she looked at her closely, she did have a bulging chest, around the same as her. Her tone was not harsh like one would expect from a dexterous female soldier, conspicuously from the Marshal's Unit. She even sounded to be around the same age as her. Strangely enough, something about her felt rather familiar. More interestingly, she had spoken to her in Japanese; that girl confused her with a terrorist, somehow. Although, in truth, that was not an inaccurate assumption.

-Where is Princess Sophia vi Britannia?

If Sophia was surprised before, now she was perplexed.

-The Princess of Britannia, you say? – She asked back blankly, also in Japanese.

Smith scowled beneath her mask. She walked closer, crouched and hit Sophia's lower chest with the barrel of her rifle.

Sophia growled. That was one hit she got. That soldier's brute strength was no joke, and that gun seemed to weigh at least 3 kilograms too. It indeed hurt.

Before she could blink, the soldier grabbed her by the bloody collar and lifted her upper body roughly and apparently without much effort.

-I'm not playing games here! You kidnapped the Princess and tried to poison her with chloroform! Although she survived, she has not made contact with anybody yet, and the Marshal's Unit has been tracking her down for over 40 minutes and no trace of her has been found! You are holding on to her, aren't you, you terrorist? Where is she?

Well done, Baron Carlson. If you were alive, everything would've played just like you planned… - Sophia thought while her heart was beating fast.

She was in quite the pinch, unable to use Geass or even reach her handgun while the other girl had a good grip on her collar, and her nape was starting to ache. Yet she was entranced in those eyes. Something about those lime green eyes was really bugging her memories, but she could not yet remember where she had seen them before.

-We do not know anything about the Princess. – Sophia replied softly; talking hurt as she felt her cheek beginning to swell up.

Before she could explain further, Smith hit her good on the stomach. Sophia grimaced and growled. The soldier's grip on her collar tightened.

-Don't lie to me, terrorist bitch! Where is the Princess? She darn better be alive and well. You better not have hurt Yuki!

Sophia's racing heart stopped for an instant. She suppressed a gasp as she put all the pieces together.

Yuki? This temper. Those eyes… It can't be…!

-Yuuki…? – She whispered almost inaudibly, paralyzed with shock.

-What was tha…?

Smith didn't finish that question before a bullet grazed her head, such that her mask slid down her face and fell to cover nothing but her neck, revealing her face at last to the person who needed to see it the most.

Coincidentally, the clouds that hid the moon from the world retired for the night. The waning moon's soft pale light that shone upon Officer Smith looked brighter than a spotlight from Sophia's point of view.

Sophia gawked. Her violet irises trembled as they managed to absorb the soldier's details; her curly black hair, vivid eyes and snub nose all matched her mental picture. Sophia was yet to realize she was not breathing.

It really is you… Yuuki…! - That was all that crossed her mind while mute from stupor.

Yuuki Smith turned to see the origin of that bullet. Nearly 10 meters to their left, a shadow was approaching them. This time it was a man.

She narrowed her eyes when she saw him aiming at her again and quickly jumped away to evade a second bullet.

When she landed a meter and a half away from stunned Sophia, she looked again at the man and distinguished the unusually vivid red tone in his hair. Also, unlike the girl in the ground, he was a lot more dexterous in combat, she could tell.

Smith shot at him, but Z.Z. moved in time to dodge the bullet, which almost grazed him. That didn't stop him from continuing getting closer.

Smith got serious. Her aiming was well-known in the regiment where she belonged; dodging a bullet shot by her was something few could accomplish. Whoever that man was, he was not to be underestimated.

Sophia had had the chance to stand up for five seconds but was still lying in the ground with her elbows supporting her back's weight. Her mind was oblivious to where they were or what she was doing there in the first place.

Z.Z. stood next to Sophia. A quick glance with the side of his left eyes was enough for him to determine she was not hurt. Other than that, he would not take his blue eyes off the female soldier nor would he lower his gun. Smith was in the same situation. The barrels of their respective guns were centimeters away from each other. They were at an impasse. It all went down to a mental game of who would shoot first. The fact that he was standing up to her 0.45-caliber rifle with a 0.45 semiautomatic handgun, and he was at par too, did not matter.

-What are you doing, Snow? – He whispered.

Sophia was shaken back into reality with Z.Z.'s voice. She looked up to the red-haired man and then at the girl who just earlier had her caught by the collar. That was the second time that morning that he arrived with heroic timing in his bloody and dirty clothes to heroically save her royal ass. What is Z.Z. doing here? Was he following me again?

Knowing how concentrated the soldier was, Z.Z. bent his knees, and she shot.

Z.Z. leaned back his upper body the second he crouched; he made her miss.

Sophia had been frustratingly attempting to scream at the situation. This can't be happening. At last, her forehead broke a sweat. She had not foreseen any of this.

When Z.Z. straightened up, he aimed his gun at Smith, who was still recovering from having missed him before. He knew she wouldn't have time to react.

As Z.Z. began pulling the trigger, motion slowed down for Sophia's mind. Her pupils dilated as they knew what he shooting would mean. Yuuki…

-DON'T! – Sophia screamed, making up having been unable to utter a sound before.

Her voice was not as fast as her mind. Z.Z. shot… While he was shooting, his eyes turned to look at Sophia. He was about to give her a questioning look when he learned the cartridge was empty.

Sophia's heart raced while Z.Z. realized he was out of bullets.

Yuuki Smith's eyes themselves were wide with surprise. As the thought of how she had had luck for not being dead that second crossed her mind, Z.Z. discarded the handgun. Merely being empty made it useless in those circumstances. Nevertheless, he would not let her get the advantage. She was still processing the fact that she was lucky when Z.Z. kicked the rifle she held.

Smith reacted at last and kicked back, but Z.Z. dodged it and returned a punch which grazed her. They began moving while engaged in the old-fashioned art of hand-to-hand combat.

Clumsily, Sophia stood up; first on her knees, then on her feet. She blinked nonstop as her eyes shifted their focus.

She first saw Yuuki Smith moving lithely like the trained soldier Sophia knew she was. Then she saw Z.Z., blocking her every punch, expertly bending his knees and then jumping into midair to throw her attacks from more diverse angles. Still, she wouldn't fall short in comparison to him. He was 177 cm tall while she was 169, but she could still put up a fight against him. Apparently, she was good enough to make Z.Z. take off his bloody coat to move more freely.

She was at first clueless as to what to do. Then, her handsome prince in the bloody suit shot her a look that pretty much asked 'what the hell are you waiting for?', and that was enough to make her remember what her goal was.

So much for following the steps of Zero. – She berated herself.

Sophia ran to where she originally headed, not daring to look back.

X Flashback X

It was a cold afternoon. The wind blowing had been icy for three days straight. Just-turned-fourteen Sophia sat under a leafless tree behind her dorm's building hugging her knees. Her green hair used to be much longer then that it is in the present, and it was a mess. Her fringe covered her eyes, which were smarting after having shed multitudinous tears and had pitch black bags under them as proof of her restlessness in the past 3 days.

Three days had passed since she last saw Samuel. All he left behind for her was a note in which he addressed himself as 'Shiro'. Sophia had not let go of that paper sheet for one moment in those three days, and the only word she had uttered was his name.

She looked at it again for the umpteen times ten elevated to the eleventh time. At that point, the white paper sheet was crumbled. In four places, its ink had run because of her tears landing in the writing. Even though it only worsened her pain, she continued sobbing; she couldn't help it. Those 3 days seemed faint to her; she still didn't know what to believe. The fear of him not coming back wouldn't go away, no matter how many times she read the line 'I promise you I'll be back to give you the details'.

-Ah, there you are! – A lively and dreamy voice shook her into reality.

She barely heard the voice, but she could tell it belonged neither to Andrea nor, unfortunately, her brother. Superintendent Ashford had left earlier that morning to celebrate Christmas with her relatives, as had everybody else in campus. There was only one other possible person to whom the voice could belong.

-You're never going to get better from your cold if you sit here in this cold, Yuki. – The owner of the voice expressed.

Sophia's reply was silence. She did not even nod or lift her gaze. She didn't do as much as acknowledging she heard her. Nonetheless, the speaker did anything but get discouraged. She smiled instead while sitting next to the green-haired girl. Her short curly black hair was toyed with by the wind as she sat with her legs crossed, and that somehow made her smile seem more beautiful.

-If Andrea sees you, she's going to scold you. – She told her softly. - She'll probably also take it on me as well. – She laughed.

-Samuel… - Sophia whispered without looking up. – He's gone, Yuuki.

-Andrea told me about it. – Yuuki replied with a more serious look, but without letting her smile disappear. – But it's fine, right? – She pointed to the paper Sophia held. - He told you in that note that he plans to return, didn't he?

Sophia looked up at last. She did not have a mirror at hand but was aware she looked ungodly, yet neither Yuuki nor her smile flinched.

-I do not know if I can believe that. – She responded.

-Why is that? – Yuuki looked at her, still amiable.

-I don't know. He did not sound convincing, or like his usual self, for that matter… - Sophia lowered her legs, letting her torso and neck be visible, and she turned to look at Yuuki gravely. – Reading this can only make me think he was trying to not make me worried. That would be just like him… He didn't even tell me when he'd be back. It's been three days, already. He could come back today, next week, next spring! – She bit her lip momentarily. – What am I supposed to do in the meantime? He's always been my support when it comes to him. Now I'm supposed to face him alone? Go to the stupid monthly dances by myself…? I'm scared, Yuuki.

Sophia shed two more tears. She could not suppress a shudder either. Yuuki could tell it was not because she was cold.

Yuuki's smile dimmed, but it was still there. She also lowered lifted one of her legs and used her knee to support her face's side. Her face which then reflected some worry looked straight at Sophia.

-True enough. – She admitted. – But you know, Yuki? Samuel didn't leave you alone.

Sophia's grave face became confused, as her violet eyes showed.

-I can't go to palace balls with you, nor can I defend you from the King, but I am here now, am I not?

Sophia's lips trembled when they felt Yuuki's warm hand wiping off her two freezing tears.

-I'll wait for you to get out of each dance. I'll listen to your whining of Schneizel, so you don't go insane and take each and every comment he throws at you. As long as I'm here, I'll be your support.

As soon as she finished that sentence, her right index finger pushed back Sophia's head.

-Take off that face already. – She told her in a sisterly way.

Sophia was at first surprised. Yuuki laughed. Her laughter was anything but melodious, yet Sophia never minded that. To her, her laughter was always sincere and authentic.

Sophia liked being with Yuuki. She was usually a carefree person. She was very different from her. One could tell that even from the way they sat. The difference in them at that moment was clear. Yuuki was a tomboy. Sophia was raised to be more ladylike, but Yuuki had influence in her that was visible since then and even more in the future. Being with her, someone unrelated to her being a Princess, someone who didn't care at all about her countenance, was comforting.

Sophia's lips pulled off something close to a grin, an inkling of encouragement after three days of crying and trembling nonstop. Yuuki's smile livened up as a result. She showed her toothy smile in her usual carefree manner that made Sophia feel so at ease.

-By the way… - Yuuki began by throwing her a little box. – You haven't opened my present! I found it still wrapped in your room when I was looking for you. That is very rude, Lady Sophia. – She teased by mimicking Andrea.

Sophia let out a soft laugh. To Yuuki, that was a good start.

-And I was thinking I might have been rude for not giving you a separate present for Christmas! – She continued teasing.

-Sorry about that, Yuuki.

-It's cool. It's a day late already, but open it anyways. – She grinned.

Sophia nodded calmly and began taking off the plain blue wrapping slowly, with keen carefulness.

-What are you doing? – Yuuki asked lifting an eyebrow. – You're taking forever, Yuki… - She then snorted. – Don't tell me you're one of those people that keep the wrapping as a memoir! – She mocked.

Sophia frowned slightly, trying to hide her blushing, and with an indignant huff proceeded to tear off the gift's paper fiercely and fast as if her hand had claws. Yuuki grinned at the sight.

Inside the blue box was a pocket watch of a 6-cm diameter with a gothic design in the lid and a black chain of no refined metal like gold or silver, or anything close to that. Opening it, Sophia saw the watch's background was black and its roman numbers white.

-Around it, there is a black button. Turn it. – Yuuki instructed.

As Sophia did so, her eyes expressed their wonder as the screen changed. The white roman numbers were covered by red kanji reading the numbers.

-Neat, right? – Yuuki grinned toothily.

Sophia nodded in response with a light grin herself.

-There's more to it yet. – She continued. – In the back of the lid, there is a piece you can pull.

Sophia pulled it after locating it. Her pupils dilated at the sight. It had a pasted picture of her, her brother and Yuuki together. It had been taken months ago. Her brother was at the center with Yuuki and her at each of his sides. He was winking an eye at the camera with his winning smile. Each of his arms was around each of their shoulders. Yuuki was laughing at his right, causing her almond-shaped eyes to look even narrower and her dimples to be easily appreciable. She had one hand showing, making a V-sign. Sophia was at his left. Contrasting with the other two, she was not showing her teeth in a wide smile and one of her eyes was closed as a reflex for her brother's arm nearly asphyxiating her.

After having taking this photo, Samuel joked on his online profile by uploading it and quoting under it 'my two girlfriends and I'. – Sophia remembered with a smile.

-Happy birthday, Yuki. – Yuuki said. – Though technically you've been 14 for a day already. And it's a Christmas present too, so merry Christmas.

Sophia shed two final tears, though those were of joy.

-Hey, why are you crying now? – Yuuki asked pretending to be offended. – It is not that bad a gift.

-Thank you. – Sophia said.

Since she entered Ashford Academy, there had never been a day in which she did not see her brother. That time, seeing him in a picture was the most she had gotten of him in three days. She missed him dearly.

-Tears won't bring him back any sooner, Yuki. – Yuuki told her honestly. – You need to be strong. He'll come around, you'll see. – She encouraged.

Sophia nodded while wiping off her tears. She didn't think her body could produce more tears at that point anyways.

The sight of those two, even though they were the same age, seemed a lot like sisters, one older than the other. Yuuki was the mature one and Sophia was the crybaby Princess who loved her brother like nobody else, but, perhaps thanks to Yuuki's presence, she had lately not cried as often.

Sophia then sneezed.

-I told you you're only gonna get worse if you continue sitting here outside. – Yuuki repeated. - It's actually freezing here, you know? The forecast today said it may snow tonight.

-That would be nice. – Sophia spoke softly. – It didn't snow at all last winter.

-Ah that's right. We were disappointed last year because we were planning to make a funny snowman but no snow ever came. – Yuuki recalled.

-I had hopes we would make it this year… - Sophia said. - But Samuel isn't here; it wouldn't be the same… I wonder how he's doing right now. Is he cold? Is he eating right? Is he even in this side of the Equator?

Yuuki patted her shoulder.

-He's just fine. Samuel always finds a way to do just fine.

Sophia nodded lightly.

-Moreover, Andrea told me your birthday dance at the palace got cancelled because of your cold? – She grinned.

-It was merely postponed. – Sophia sounded disappointed. – It'll take place the day after tomorrow.

-On Christmas Eve, huh? Well, that's a pity. – Yuuki sympathized. – Either way, you could still use your cold as an excuse to say you're not feeling all too well and get to leave earlier than usual. Maybe you'll be spared after a couple of hours only. Cheer up already. – Yuuki finished with a rough pat on her friend's head.

-I wonder about that. – Sophia mused.

The two girls laughed leisurely when a voice scarier than an ogre's took them by surprise.

-Lady Sophia? – Andrea shouted from afar as she quickly approached them.

-Here comes the nagging beast. – Sophia said to prepare herself mentally.

-And it seems it just got its claws sharpened today. – Yuuki followed.

Andrea stood in front of them with her hands on each side of her waist, ready to nag with all her glory. They dared not to look at her straight into her eyes and were sure to keep an eye on the other. Sophia was visibly anxious, but Yuuki was an expert at keeping her cool.

-It's such a nice day, right, Andrea? – Yuuki attempted making small talk (and failed).

-What are you doing here outside in this cold? You are going to catch pneumonia exposing yourself to this wind when you're already sick! – Andrea berated fiercely. – And Miss Rose, that is no way for a young lady to be sitting! I don't care if you're not wearing a skirt today, it's unsightly!

-Come on Andrea, didn't I already tell you to just call me 'Yuuki'? – She grinned. – I don't like my middle name much.

-Is that all you caught from what I said? – Andrea scolded and growled frustrated. – It's cold here. Follow me and get inside.

-But that'd mean we'd have to stand up! – Yuuki pretended to complain.

-RIGHT. NOW. – Andrea ordered slowly.

Both girls immediately stood up straight and marched behind her like trained soldiers.

Andrea could be especially scary sometimes. To Sophia, it was a relief to know that, even though her brother was no longer around to deal with her, she still had Yuuki to rely on. She had not even had to answer to Andrea herself while Yuuki took care of things. Without someone to distract her and tire her, Andrea could go on for hours. Both of them occasionally wondered how a young woman like her, not even 25 years old, could act so senile.

-Thanks for sitting next to me back there. – Sophia whispered.

-Didn't I just tell you I'd be your support as long as I'm here? – Yuuki winked with a small smile. – You will only have to worry if she pulls out the lethal acid she calls eggnog. – She grimaced.

Sophia couldn't help snickering, and Yuuki followed.

-What are you two whispering about back there? – Andrea called.

-N-Nothing! – Sophia answered, barely able to hold back her laughter while Yuuki freely let it out.

-It's not a good sight to see a lady snorting like a pig! – Andrea nagged.

The two of them turned down their giggling volume, but Andrea was aware they were still laughing. She sighed. She didn't consider her job easy. She was not only to take care of Lady Sophia and Lord Samuel; she was also supposed to guide them, to raise them to be decent people and educated people. She was the closest those two had to a mother figure despite her being so young, which had as an effect them both treating her casually and unworriedly.

Despite her angry countenance, she was glad Lady Sophia was finally laughing after having not gotten one word or even a mere glance from her in 3 long days. She was feeling worried about her depression, but she seemed better then. She knew it was because of Yuuki, though she'd never address her like that. 'Yuuki' and 'Yuki' sounded alike to her, and the latter was, to her, meant to be used when referring to Sophia only.

-I shall prepare some of my egg nog. – She offered cordially while turning to look at them in the back. – It's that time of the year, after all.

Sophia and Yuuki froze in place.

After an awkward moment of blank stares from them both, Yuuki turned away.

-Well, you can't say I didn't tell you in advanced. See ya.

That said, Yuuki waved goodbye and then ran away.

-Huh? Yuuki, you evil! – Sophia yelled, but Yuuki wouldn't stop. - Come back here! Don't leave me to try Andrea's creepy eggnog all by myself! – She cried and proceeded to run after her, though it was obvious she'd never reach her.

-What was that? – Andrea shouted mad with a vein highlighted on her forehead. – Lady Sophia, come back here! LADY SOPHIA!

The louder Andrea yelled, the more reasons she gave Sophia and Yuuki to speed up, and that is exactly what they did.

X End of flashback X

Yuuki, why did it have to be you who we encountered tonight? If there is anyone I wished I would not have to fight like this, it was you… - Sophia thought without stopping running towards her objective for that early morning.

Meanwhile, Len's Glasgow stood undefeated among several damaged Gareth and now-useless tanks. Some people had died, others got injured and the rest ran away.

Len's breath was strained. Sweat drops trickled down his brow like water; some locks of his gray-silver hair were stuck to his forehead for that reason. His weariness, however, was far from getting him to surrender.

-This is a disgrace! – Jim Phillips exclaimed indignant.

He along with the other two Vincent Wards observed from a distance how an insignificant Eleven in a puny Glasgow got the best of their back-up pilots. It was a stomp in Britannian pride for a terrorist to force the Marshal's Unit to 'get serious'.

-Hehehe. He defeated them all. – Allister Cheshire said grinning. – He looks fun to fight with.

-It is indeed a rare sight to see a well-trained pilot among terrorists, Cheshire. – Ivan Clarke agreed with an undying smile despite the circumstances.

-WHAT ARE YOU TWO SAYING! – Jim shouted enraged before growling fiercely. – How dare you praise a terrorist, an Eleven? This sight is outrageous! To be defeated by a terrorist in an obsolete Glasgow is pathetic! I wish I could execute them myself for disgracing the Empire with this performance!

-Heheheheh. Jim sounds mad, Ivan. Heheheheh.

-Of course he is, Cheshire. – Ivan replied; hearing his voice was enough to remind them he still had a smile on. – If there is a title to recognize whoever hates Eleven more than anything else, Jim's name should come up.

-Heheheheh. – Cheshire grinned with his trademark laughing sound, which was not loud but soft and somewhat inconspicuous, giving it an eerier sensation to those who heard it right behind their necks.

Jim Phillips gritted his teeth and tightened his hands' grip on the controls of his Vincent Ward. His scowl was deep and his sky blue glare as enraged as it could get.

-You two can stay here like fools, but I will stop him myself if that's what it takes! That disgusting Eleven will pay for this!

That said, his Vincent Ward stepped forward.

Len's dark blue eyes narrowed as he understood that Vincent Ward was challenging him. It was already a fact they would fight.

A sweat drop rolled down freely from his forehead's left side all the way to his chin. He was not tired yet, but, unfortunately, he could not say the same about his Knightmare frame. It had been battered. Although at first no Gareth could give him a scratch, near the end he could not dodge every attack from so many units and back-ups despite his speed and agility. Moreover, the sakuradite on his ancient Yggdrasil drive was running low at that point. He wasn't sure if he'd hold on against a Seventh Age frame when he was in bad shape. It didn't help that his to be opponent had two evident Maser Vibration Swords standing tall and shaped like spears. To put it briefly, he was in a pinch.

Len temptingly looked over a specific button among the many in his Glasgow's controls. He stared at it for a couple of seconds before closing his eyes.

No, I can't use it yet; it's too soon. – He reasoned. – That girl… She wants me to earn time for her. That is the most likely thing to conclude. I don't know why the hell I trust her, but I have to do this. She ought to have something in mind, and she needs time for it. I will hang on as long as I can. Then I'll ask her her damn name.

The Glasgow and the Vincent Ward clashed.

Right off the bat, Jim activated his MVS. He charged at Len, ready to slay him good. Len stepped back. The sword only grazed him. However, the pilot of the Vincent Ward would not let him off easily. He swung the sword at him again. Len barely evaded it again. Again the sword came, and again Len evaded. The attacks of the Britannian pilot were relentless; he would not let the rebel take a breath between defending himself from one moment to another.

Jim's fury grew with each time the rebel evaded his sword as if him surviving were an insult to his person.

Len could tell that pilot's specialty was the MVS. He showed prowess when it came to attacking him from several angles with good speed, and he hadn't even pulled out the second MVS he had behind his back yet. Len was grazed at most by his attacks, but saying he was having it tough would be an understatement. As nice as it is to think that it is skill what makes a pilot good, the equipment can make a difference. His Glasgow's performance could hardly match the maneuverability of a Vincent Ward. Moreover, because his Glasgow was so old, its armament was not in the most optimum conditions. He did not count with the standard assault rifle, tonfas, giant cannon or slash harken all RPI-11 Glasgow once had when they were a mass-produced novelty. He did have two aces up his sleeve, but he needed to be wise when using them up, for they would expend a considerable amount of energy, shortening the combat.

Hang in there… - Len thought while doing his best to avoid the MVS, concentrated on the fight yet wandering in the back of his mind; that was a trait of his that showed he was a natural fighter. - I have to hang in there. I have to hold on as long as I can. There are still two Wards that can attack at any moment, but because they underestimate me, they will not likely come at the same time. There is also the possibility of more back-up coming. However, that girl, whoever she is, can't be unaware of this situation. She seems smart enough to know I can only last so long with my limited energy… (…) I don't even know if she's planning to use me as scapegoat, but even if she is, at least Syusuke – San and the others should have enough time to escape. They will continue to fight. If my fall can help our cause, then so be it. It's a possibility we all embraced before coming tonight. Kotaro knew this too…

It was an odd sight. Even when working so hard to dodge the fatal MVS, the pilot of the Glasgow smiled inside the cockpit.

I bet Kotaro didn't die with regrets… I would likely regret it if I ran away now, though running away is actually impossible. I wonder if that voice will lead us to another victory in the future. I can tell she has that much potential… Man, I hate that I trust her. I hate her, yet I trust her. I hate that she practically demands my trust, and she has it. If Kaya heard me she'd say I'm pathetic…

Five whole minutes passed and Len was still unharmed. Jim's teeth were soon to ache from him clenching them so hard.

-You cursed Eleven! – He screamed fuming, so loudly it was likely his eyeballs were almost bulging from his face.

Jim Phillips pulled out from behind a second MVS. Even his mechanical arms showed how reluctant he was to use it.

-All you've done is postpone the inevitable. You've made me waste enough time already. I shall finish you right here and now. – He menaced.

Len narrowed his eyes for a moment. Then he grinned. He had no reason to think the Britannian pilot of the Marshal's Unit was lying to him, but he felt he would not be able to keep his word on that. His grin widened, brimming with confidence of unknown origins. Perhaps it was just the spur of the moment, or maybe he really foresaw that a factor in the future would play on his favor.

-Bring it on. – He defied like an authentic rebel.

Inwardly, he was aware dodging would get twice as laborious, but if there was something he didn't lack was well-grounded confidence in his skill. He was a dexterous pilot by nature; no Britannian would ever deny him that much.

Two hundred meters away, Sophia surrounded the War Tower's location carefully. There were several units on standby, ready to move towards her terrorist/tool any second.

She had managed to calm herself down in the way there. Must stay cool. – She said to herself. – I can't allow myself to make foolish mistakes for not thinking clearly. This is a test for both those rebels and I. I have to prove I can be Zero's incarnation. I have to convince Z.Z. He definitely knows more than he'll tell. I don't know why, but I have a premonition that he may hold the key for something so important it could play a major role in the war I've begun tonight. Why am I so surprised to see Yuuki anyway? I knew beforehand she joined the Britannian army. Sure, I did not know she joined the Marshal's Unit specifically, but that is irrelevant. I already know what to do; that is what I will do.

Like Len guessed, Sophia kept in mind that his energy would not last forever. She was not sure how long he had left, so she was acting according to the least favorable scenario for him, in which his Yggdrasil drive's sakuradite would last a bit over ten minutes from that instant.

She took advantage of the dark veil above them all and observed from behind one of the trees surrounding the clear area where the Marshal's Unit stood.

Her clothes and the soldier's uniforms were different from what she wore. She also needed to get her hands on one of their black uniforms with a gray cloth to cover all the way to the nose and a dark helmet to cover the rest of her face. She estimated it would take one minute for someone to come close enough for her to use her Geass on. In reality she waited 56 seconds.

As discerningly as possible, she approached a soldier that surrounded the area, away from the majority. She took off her helmet for him to see the sigil on her left eye. In a whisper, she ordered him to go with her some meters away, give her his clothes as well as his ID and the spare handgun he carried and then to put on her bloody clothes to make sure he'd be mistaken for a member the private army of Sir King. Finally, she told him to shoot himself. With her clothes on his corpse, anybody who saw him would not care if he was dead.

Sophia stared at him for a moment. How many people had she ordered to kill themselves that night? And her battle was just beginning…

Her next stop was the War Tower, more specifically the Marshal's chamber.

Not too far from there, Yuuki Smith and Z.Z. were exchanging blows and kicks. Both showed each other their dexterity. She was not just a trained officer, she was the most physically fit in her squad, but he was a proficient martial artist. Her skills in martial arts, though excelling in Marshal's Unit, were not yet match for his level.

She could not land a hit on him, and he evaded every hit she sent him. She, however, was also yet to be hit and her exceptionally fast reflexes were an asset for dodging. His attacks came one after the other. He'd throw a kick, she'd jump back. He'd jump into midair and come from above, and she'd move with a somersault. He'd land on ground and throw a punch in the same second, and she'd counter it with her leg up. She needed to be fully focused or else she knew he'd find a way to knock her down.

Yuuki somersaulted and gained some distance. When she stood on her feet, she looked right into his deep blue eyes. It was dark, but she could feel his stare; he too could see her.

This guy… He's good. He's nothing like the woman from earlier. He's already used techniques from tae kwon do, aikido and karate. He's also got experience with guns. Even though one can barely see here, he can shoot with accuracy from a fairly long distance while moving. Moments ago, he barely missed me. His stamina is more than decent; he's yet to break a sweat. He attacks me to prevent me from attacking him, but he needs a reason to get into offense. He has not yet gotten serious with me; if he had, I would've been killed a while ago. How can someone so well-trained be a terrorist? It does not make much sense. If he and that woman aren't terrorists, then what are they?

Clearly, getting close to him was risky. Then her eye corner caught a glimpse of something that would allow her a safe win. She noted the rifle he previously kicked from her was but 2 meters to her far left.

Swiftly throwing her body to the ground to grab it, she quickly pointed it to Z.Z. while in one knee. He had only observed her but did not even move. The distance between them was too short; it was almost impossible for any trained soldier to miss the shot. She was a distinguishable threat, yet his face did not react.

-What is your purpose here? – She questioned him influenced by the confidence the weapon gave its user. – What is your relation to the terrorists that kidnapped the Princess?

He remained silent and limited himself to glare back at her. Yuuki Smith excelled at several aspects; patience was not one of them, though. With a frown in her face, she stood up without lowering the rifle at any moment.

-Answer. – The soldier commanded.

The red-haired man did not react again. She was threatening him at gunpoint and he was unfazed.

Z.Z. looked keenly at the girl with curly hair. He was fully focused in finding something about her. Though he didn't know what that something was, it was something great enough for Snow to not want her killed.

'DON'T', Snow yelled. – Z.Z. thought with his unexpressive eyes fixated on Yuuki Smith. – Why? What is so special about this girl? Her fighting abilities, though above the average soldier's, are nothing extraordinary, nor is her intelligence. She most likely is a member of the Marshal's Unit. How will she be of any help to our purpose? What about this woman makes her so special to be exempt from being killed, differently from several other people tonight?

Thinking it would be effective, Smith shot and purposely missed, grazing his left cheek by a couple of centimeters. He did not blink.

The more she saw of him, the less human he seemed to her. Little did she know she was absolutely right. She tightened her grip on the firearm. She no longer knew what that man was, but that did not change her objective.

-The Princess… Is she hurt? – She asked with her voice suddenly softer. – Where is she?

Z.Z. did not answer.

She gritted her teeth. She could feel a sensation she had not had in years. She did not want to admit it, but she had a soft spot for Sophia. Next, she felt something akin to guilt. She remembered all the letters Sophia used to write to her years agone. She read and kept all of them. Whenever she replied to her, she was brief, and, because she was not gifted with a knack for good prose, she sounded uninteresting. Compared to Sophia, her letters were dull. Then, a point came in which she could no longer write to her and asked Sophia to understand. Sophia understood and did not complain despite that meaning she'd be alone, for her missing brother was yet to reappear in her life. Now, years later, she felt guilty. The girl that had been her best friend was most likely there, hurt and frightened, and although she was trying to do something for her, she couldn't. That man with strange blue eyes was to blame for her feeling like that.

-Yuki… - She whispered.

She did not notice, but the blue-eyed man heard her, and his strange eyes reacted to that name. He understood.

That was it? – He wondered as he recalled Snow's cry for him to let her live. – Snow wanted to spare her because she knew her before?

He sighed inwardly.

-How disappointing. – Z.Z. finally spoke; he spoke softly and sounded, as he expressed, disappointed.

Yuuki heard him but could not make sense of his words. She was beginning to wonder if he was having an episode of mental instability. Her limited patience ended that moment.

-Where is Princess Sophia? – She demanded. – Answer.

He could tell she was aiming for his heart with the rifle. She knew he could tell that. He still would not answer.

For a while by then, Z.Z. knew the handgun Sophia left behind was close to his foot. He had ignored it all along because he was curious about whatever Snow had seen in that soldier…But now he had the answer. The answer was nothing. He had no reason to comply with Snow's every whim.

-Why should I not kill you? – He asked out loud.

Yuuki's forehead furrowed.

-What…? – She began but never finished.

The moment she saw him bending down slowly, her eyes followed and landed on the handgun she recognized belonged to the woman from earlier. As a reflex and product of her occupation's nature, she shot. She did not miss that time.

The man she could not understand fell on top of the grass with a small but lethal hole in his chest.

His eyes were not closed. Strangely enough, they did not look any different dead than when he was alive.

Yuuki took a moment to recover her cool before continuing. Regardless of anything else, her mission had not changed. She would find Sophia no matter what. Unknown to her, she was neither as far nor as hurt and defenseless as she believed.

Len had it twice as tough, but he was still undefeated, increasing Jim's anger exponentially.

-Cursed Eleven! – He screamed for the second time that early morning.

Observing from the sideline, the two other Vincent Ward had not made a move.

-Heheheheh. Jim's mad because he couldn't beat the terrorist with just one MVS. Heheheheh.

-True enough. – Ivan agreed smiling calmly. – For Jim to need to use both swords against one terrorist in a poorly equipped Glasgow must hurt his pride dearly.

Indeed, Jim was not far from his wits' end. Even using his two MVS he was unable to bring one mere terrorist down. He attacked him from left and right and up and down, and he could still not defeat him.

Len was had been capable of evading every swing so far. He had been moving around the field in order to make it harder for his opponent too. He had nearly tripped and fallen several times but always recovered his balance, frustrating his Britannian fiend.

How can this be happening? – Jim thought anxiously. – He's just a damn terrorist!

-This is enough, terrorist! – He yelled. – You cannot defeat me! You can stop nothing with that puny Glasgow! Evading will not save you from your fate! You will pay for having defied the Holy Empire, you ghetto rat!

Len tightened his grip on the cockpit's controls. Tch. I don't need to hear this guy's racist ranting now; I'm already pissed off… I think I've been idle long enough. He positioned himself; it seemed he was ready to receive the attack up front. He didn't look like he was going to dodge, slide to Jim's back or step back.

Both the observers knew the Glasgow pilot's actions were more than reckless. Allister Cheshire grinned with bright interest. Ivan Clarke's ability to not let himself be seen through allowed him to watch while looking calm, still wearing the mysterious permanent smile; however, in reality, his eyes were set on the Glasgow with concentration beyond normal, even greater than Cheshire's curiosity.

Very differently from those two, Jim Phillips could not be calm as he attacked. He felt he was facing humiliation in the hands of an insurgent Eleven. Even the frame he piloted showed in its movement how determined he was to make his statement true as he charged towards the Glasgow, and that determination was nurtured by his fury. He was ready to blow the rebel's existence away with a single attack.

Shockingly enough, things did not go according to Jim's plan. Instead of the Glasgow's cockpit being slain, his Vincent Ward's movement ceased, and his MVS were demoted to spear-like weapons, for the oscillations on their edges stopped completely.

-Huh…? – Jim uttered quietly, baffled; all his anger toned down significantly thanks to the element of surprise.

Once again, another electric discharge occurred in the cockpit, first it had been his Vincent, now it was his turn to feel its full impact. He bellowed with his eyes unable to blink while being shocked.

The discharge was just over when the Glasgow's pilot pushed the Vincent Ward down.

The particular pair of spectators witnessed the scene.

-Ohhh… - Cheshire expressed with a face as fascinated as a child's.

-Eh, I knew he was up to something, but to pull out a stun gun after having hidden it successfully while we had assumed he was weaponless! What a nifty man, this terrorist is! – He exclaimed with a delighted tone. Ivan's grin deepened, too. - Why, this has gotten more interesting than I thought!

-Hehehehe! – Cheshire laughed while nodding in agreement.

Right in the last second before Jim's MVS got to him in his initial attack, like in any good and cliché action movie, Len showed his first ace hidden in his sleeve at last. He had not stopped his movements with anything fancy, just a mere stun gun, as Ivan Clarke correctly noticed. He had, however, had it modified for it to be able to release exceptionally high-voltage charges that could affect Knightmare Frame weaponry. Inconspicuously, Len had been hiding it all along, saving it for a surprise attack while he tried earning some time.

Len was hardly surprised the other two seemed calm even though one of their comrades was on the ground. He could be smart when he wanted to, and pretty clever as well, but he was a terrorist. He shared with all that despise for Britannian hauteur and the undue urgency to fight each time he received those condescending and arrogant attitudes that belittled him for no other reason than being an Eleven. Len knew that despite his accomplishment in bringing one down for a moment he was still at non-negligible disadvantage, but that impetuous impetus within himself would never allow him to retreat. He did not worry whether he had or not used his stun gun in the most appropriate moment, which was an important thing considering surprise factors are only surprising once; it was worth it, for he was proving his worth, as if he were saying 'I am an Eleven, but I can stand up to you; underestimate me and fall'.

I like your stand; it makes you so much more interesting… - Ivan thought. - More importantly, he is proving to be promising. He might be so much fun to trifle with and eventually crush! It is not everyday that I have the pleasure of coming across this type. – His tranquil and carefree grin's outward appearance began showing a more nefarious nature, slowly transforming his expression. – I am looking forward to it, terrorist.

-I… Hehehehe… I c-can't… Hehehehe…I can't hold it anymore! – Cheshire stammered from eagerness. – I… - His Vincent Ward took a step toward Len. – I want to play with him too!

He gave not one more step when he caught a glimpse of the fallen Vincent moving.

Grunting, Jim Phillips refused to give up. His frame's system was recovered from the shock for the most part. Although with ragged breathing, he was decided to stop Cheshire from attacking.

-D-Don't you dare… - He warned panting.

Standing up, he faced his opponent. His blue eyes were in flames. His goal, that glare of his revealed, had become to kill him.

-Heh, but Jim already played with him! – Cheshire complained like a child who could not wait anymore to play with a toy. – Ivan! It's not fair! I wanna fight the terrorist too! Tell Jim he already screwed it up!

-SHUT UP! – Jim bellowed at Cheshire without turning to him, but letting him feel the whole of his ire with his voice filled of nothing but bellicose contempt and murderous desires.

-Now, now. There is no need to yell at Cheshire, is there Jim? – Ivan calmly, perfectly unaffected by Jim's eerie threat, of course, never pushing aside his smile for anything. – Truth is that it is better if you let Cheshire take over and clean the mess you certainly cannot. Give up, Jim. You can't defeat this terrorist. – His words were phrased like advice, but his tone and expression clearly indicated he was pointing out his weakness and that his intentions, albeit undecipherable, were certainly not kindly-meant.

In a matter of seconds, Len had exchanged roles with the observers. It was easy to tell the stubborn one had had his pride hurt thanks to him. However, Len could not guess what the other one's intellections were going about. His fighter instinct told him the latter would be the hardest opponent of the three.

Gritting his teeth and having his brow covered with highlighted veins, Jim's eyes were not far from popping out of his face.

Choosing to fight for his honor and ignore Ivan's words, he charged again at Len, not bothering to pick up his useless pair of MVS from the ground. His frame, however, was not in the most optimum state. Dodging any clout he threw at him was easy for Len.

A new impasse was born. Len was still seeking to stall for some time. He dodged, threw no attacks and occasionally shielded his cockpit with the stun gun. Also, he knew that prolonging this fight would also delay an imminent clash with the leader-like figure of the trio, whose recollected countenance and rather vexing undying grins gave room for him to be mysterious and creepy enough for Len to be aware fighting him would put him in something more than a pinch.

Ivan complimented his amused grin with a humming noise that beckoned understanding, having seen through a stratagem. So you do not want to fight with me, terrorist? You think that playing around with Jim is going to impede me from attacking? Why, you are terribly wrong… I'll let you see it is too early for you to attempt controlling my actions. I shall force you to show me the other trick I know you're hiding.

-Ivan! – Cheshire cried, getting frustrated. – It's so unfair! Why does only Jim get to fight him?

Ivan's lips curled upwards almost sinisterly.

-Why, Cheshire, you certainly have a point. I do not recall, however, having been told we could only attack one-on-one. Jim is struggling and embarrassing himself even more. What do you say you lend him a hand? – He grinned invitingly.

-Yoohooo! – Cheshire shouted excited at finally being able to release all the energy so much excitement had made him withstand.

Cheshire's Vincent Ward went at Len while he evaded a predictable attack from Jim, and he received damage with a surprised visage. The cockpit where he was had been grazed.

-What are you doing? Don't get in my way, Cheshire! – Jim shouted angry. – He's mine!

-Hehehe, your turn's already over, Jim.

Cheshire paid no more heed to Jim after replying. In vane, Jim continued uttering and yelling. Decided, he focused on destroying the Eleven before Cheshire and continued throwing random attacks, no longer guided by reason.

The situation had gotten tricky and a lot more difficult. Handling Jim in that condition was child's play, but the other pilot was a dissimilar case. Never mind his frame was undamaged, Cheshire earned credit for being an authentically skilled pilot very fairly. He was fast, had great reflexes, and defending from his attacks was no easy task whereas Len's attacks could not even touch him. Fighting Cheshire with Jim attacking randomly, rather than fighting, Len was just procuring not to receive significant damage from Cheshire, and that was still troublesome. Nonetheless, once he was used to the rhythm, Len could use his stun gun to aggress toward Cheshire, though so far he could hardly graze him.

Ivan chuckled. He's slowly taking the pace and keeps up with two opponents at once. Impressive, indeed. You are definitely promising. Nevertheless, do not get too confident yet. Cheshire has only been toying with you; he's hardly serious… He'll soon be, though.

Cheshire growled.

-Oi, Jim! – He yelled. – Stop getting in the way already! It's not as fun when you slow us down.

-You bastard! – Jim cussed. – He's my opponent! You're the one who's in the way!

Len lifted an eyebrow. Two enemies were fighting among themselves. Two trained and capacitated high-ranking officers in the Marshal's Unit were fighting in the middle of a combat with a terrorist. He just couldn't think of any words to say, so he observed while defending from their attacks, which weakened since they devoted part of their energy trying to get the other out.

Frustrated, Cheshire pushed Jim whose condition did not allow him to prevent falling.

Cheshire then turned to Len confidently.

-Now we can finally go for the good stuff! – He exclaimed.

Len took the offensive stand and attempted charging at him with the stun gun, but could not manage to hit the cockpit; the pilot was not about to let himself be hit after seeing the power it could release. That was the downside of showing a triumph card too early in a game.

Cheshire's Vincent was lithe, moving it like his own body when it came to evading the stun gun. They gradually increased their speed, eventually moving while occupying more space and danced the offensive-defensive dance.

Their speed and agility were quite alike, such that, in the end, it came down to equipment difference. Len had the disadvantage in his Glasgow, and that fact pulled him down. His cockpit received a brutal punch that shook him and nearly made him lose balance.

-What do you feel now that you experience Cheshire's surfacing ability? – Ivan wondered. – And he has only just started. What will you do now? Will you finally show your second ace, or will you take the risk of getting killed by Cheshire?

I guess this is far as I can keep this up. – Len, oblivious to Ivan's amusement, thought. - I will have to get things moving in this impasse. Whatever she is planning on doing, I can't give her forever to do it.

From the Glasgow's back, the frame's hand reached for something, but that something would not be shown with its closed fist.

Cheshire, enjoying himself greatly, charged, unable to contain himself for whatever new and exciting thing the terrorist would pull off. That worked better for Len. He was to wait for Cheshire to approach him, and then he'd release it.

Once he knew he would not stop, the Glasgow's hand let the cylindrical container be seen.

Ivan's irises reacted immediately. His grin dimmed at first but later returned even more emphasized than before. Something interesting was about to happen.

Both parties were surprised when a long-forgotten one got in the literally middle. The air burst grenade's impact of the deadly shrapnel sprayed was received by Jim's cockpit before he could eject. It also affected Cheshire because he was fairly close, though not as much. Len was, of course, not immune from part of its effect since he could not run in order for his trap to work. A loud explosion reverberated throughout the area.

…Please hurry up. – Len could hardly think with the noise caused by the chaos mine.

Not really being a psychic, Sophia was unaware of what Len's thoughts were, though she could have formed a fairly close idea of what they were like had she attempted to. Nevertheless, it was within her knowledge that she did not have much time left.

Minutes earlier, having used her Geass to shape her pathway and passage through the inside of the War Tower without undergoing any risks or danger, Sophia stood at the highest level of tower, right outside a couple of automatic doors that, according to an officer she manipulated, held behind them the Marshal of the Britannian Army. Even if she had not had that confirmation, the majesty and width of the entrance left little room for doubt about its room's occupant. She had gone a long way, like a Queen making her way to the Knight on the opposing side of the chessboard. To enter, to make her final move, all she had to do was slip the ID card that she stole and enter the key number into the electric code lock.

Five, four, eight, seven, seven, eight, eight. – Sophia repeated the key inwardly for the tenth time since she learned it from an officer three minutes earlier.

Sophia took a deep breath while holding tightly against her chest the rifle, which was also stolen. She did not need to repeat that sequence ten times, but she still did it because she wanted to avoid thinking about another matter. She was still not entirely over having defied all expectations by reuniting in what is the perhaps-most-undesirable way with a beloved friend she had not seen in years which felt longer than anything else and whom she had missed every day of them. Numerous were the times for the past years in which she'd wake up in the middle of the night with tears on her face after dreaming about her brother and Yuuki, the only two people in the world she ever truly loved without reserve and the only two people that truly knew her. Moreover, although she knew exactly what she would say once she entered, the nature of the information she could potentially obtain had a lot of weight on her heartbeat.

She sighed. She was aware she was reaching her time's limit. She put on her helmet, for she had been in the need to take it off before to use her Geass. It was time to act, show time.

5-4-8-7-7-8-8. One by one, the numbers were pressed. The doors opened.

The Marshal's quarters were exactly what they were supposed to be according to the imagination of nobody in particular. A spacious room of serious and military appearance with little light provided by fluorescent lights on the dark walls; because of that, the ceiling above their heads was indiscernible from the darkness. There was a luxurious set of couches and coffee tables in each side of the room with some additional furniture, some in which a few sets of glasses for serving drinks were visible. In the middle, there was a large rectangular table of steel base with a bright map illuminate by lights beneath its glassy surface.

Sitting further at the back, at the limit between the part where light was enough for her to distinguish anything and the farther part where she saw nothing but black, was a large chair worthy of the highest ranking military official in the Empire, and that was exactly the man who sat in it.

Marshal Marshall Wellington sat loftily, such that his power was clear as day even in a room as dark as that one. It appeared he was previously to her interruption musing deeply on the situation that was happening outside the metallic walls of the movable structure. His usually cold expression seemed different at the moment, though. The cause was doubtlessly the matters he was pondering upon seconds agone.

He acted relatively calm, and even Sophia found that neat countenance slightly disturbing considering he was aware she was no soldier of his, and her intentions in that room were anything but favorable to him.

For a brief instant, she felt as if he could see through the darkness and through her helmet and knew who she was just as if her face were naked. That pair of dark brown eyes was so sharp and so imposing that not even the poor lightning of the room could camouflage it. She shrugged that intellection off. That was impossible.

She could not counter with an even sharper glance because it was not yet the time to take off her helmet. So, she did the best next thing: She pointed her rifle at him. She pointed at him decidedly even though it was the first time she carried a gun like that one. Back then, all she knew about it was that it was a rifle; beyond her was to guess it to be an AR-15 piston rifle with quick change barrel. Its weight was not too much for her to struggle carrying, but it felt heavier than logic dictated it should. Whatever that was, she knew it was unconceivable for it to be guilt, especially since Marshall Wellington had not even flinched at the sight of an ally of the terrorists having infiltrated the War Tower. To him, the sight of a powerful military weapon was probably as trivial and unimpressive as the sight of a notebook is for a student. Nevertheless, he must have been aware of what his situation was. Chances were that he was unarmed, so did a random but incapable-of-lying officer inform Sophia.

-What is it that you want? – He asked straight to the point.

-What else is there to want but for you to meet my demands? – Sophia answered in a soft but firm and certain tone.

-What are your demands? – The Marshal enquired right away, neither pausing nor hesitating a second.

That reaction was anything but unexpected or unforeseen to her. It is not the least hard to think a man who had been through the difficulties and challenges of rising in rank starting from the very base of the hierarchy's pyramid and undeniably succeeded and achieved as much as he had during most of his youth and life capable of adjusting with perfect composure to any situation where even his life is threatened.

-First, you will say a few words to your forces outside. – She commanded.

-I will not move my forces. – He rebelled calmly and unhesitant.

-I see you're a devoted soldier, Marshal, willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of your beloved Britannia. However, admirable as it is, you still have no choice but to comply with my demands. – Sophia informed without a gram of uncertainty in her countenance and voice.

Fearless and defiant, Marshall Wellington stood up with the countenance proper of him, showing great discipline as a soldier and unyielding pride in a non-offensive amount. His frame 1.85 meters tall was at its best when standing. The glister of resolve shone on his features, giving him a courageous and strong air.

-You are in no position to think of your victory as imminent, terrorist; not even close! My Unit outdoes your allies in both numbers and skill. Even if you assassinate me now, you will still accomplish nothing.

Sophia grinned. Her face was hidden by a helmet and darkness, but the Marshal could feel her composure not quivering. He understood she was still to show him something else.

His time should be about to run out around now.

-Say, the view from here must be ample. – She began; her tone was neither conceited and overconfident nor uneasy and unsure. – What do you say you let us both observe, Marshal?

And that is exactly what they both did. Not that the Marshal had a choice. He took out a remote control from his coat and pointed it at a wall. Slowly, the wall was lifted automatically to reveal a window presenting the scenery of a battle field, which both watched minutely without forgetting to keep an eye on each other. It was as if time inside had frozen as they viewed the field outside battling apace…Until they saw an ephemeral but wondrous explosion right before them. Sophia caught from her last conversation with Len that he had something up his sleeve. She did not know what it was but, judging him as smart enough, did not doubt that what he considered advantageous was indeed advantageous and not just some tool that fools would overestimate. Still, she did not expect it to be a modified chaos mine. Interesting. – She pondered, already thinking ahead despite not being done there.

Estimating how long he would last until using that trump card, she awaited for that sight to occur while pointing a weapon's barrel at Marshall Wellington. Sophia planned that that would trigger the reaction she needed in the Marshal. He was far from thinking his forces and himself at risk of defeat; Sophia could tell that by looking at him. However, he was beginning to understand there was more to them than he had foresaw. Effectively, it was not everyday that he saw terrorist groups coming so far, even mastering the art of strategy to an acceptable degree beyond that of common rebels.

She turned to him, ready to get straight to business.

-As you can see, Marshal, you have underestimated these terrorists. – She spoke unhurriedly.

-You have underestimated us even farther. You think this means anything? That explosion hardly affected my forces. They are still in greater numbers. One of your men has taken damage as well in order to cause us damage, and even that sacrifice will be to no avail and give you no vantage.

Sophia's grin widened. What would happen next would be the final touch for him.

-Then, Marshal, go ahead and order your forces to go and back them up. Be assured I will not pull the trigger while you're at it. – She spoke softly; had her tone not been so obvious of its hidden dark thoughts and confident, she might have sounded rather polite.

While she stated she would not shoot if he did that, he understood she meant for him to do it or else she would shoot.

He took out a communication device from his breast pocket.

-Control room. – A voice answered.

-Send in reinforcements outside. – The Marshal ordered.

On the other line, there was silence. The Marshal furrowed his brow.

-Did you copy? – He asked.

Again, no response was given. The Marshal gritted his teeth, and his scowl deepened. He began to fear the worst, unable to understand how the female in front of him was responsible for this.

-Control room! Do you hear me? I demand an answer.

-We do not answer to your orders. – The man in control room replied in the same monotonous and uninterested voice.

-What is the meaning of this! You are all my Unit, my subordinates. You will answer to my orders!

Once again, silence was heard.

-Answer to…!

Before the Marshal of Britannia could finish yelling at his unexpectedly rebellious subordinates, the call ended.

The Marshal was indignant. He turned with angry eyes at the calm and quiet woman before him.

Refusing to give in, he made another call.

-Whitmire. – A voice answered.

-General, this is the Marshal speaking. I need you to send in reinforcements to the pilots on the field. This is a matter of urgency.

A pause occurred. The Marshal's forehead began to sweat as he could imagine what that pause meant.

-Sorry, sir. – General Whitmire replied. – I don't follow your orders anymore.

Slowly, Marshal Wellington's composure was dying.

-What the hell is that supposed to mean? – He demanded.

Sophia listened amused. She could not recollect another occasion in which she had heard the correct Marshal swear. She always found it interesting to witness the dramatic changes people undergo under certain situations where their psyche is messed with. She herself had been through extraordinary circumstances recently, and she too realized change in her was inevitable. She had been thinking about that for a while then. What exactly would change about her?

The General also hanged up on Wellington.

Reaching despair, Wellington attempted to contact two other people, but the outcome was the same.

He looked at the young woman in front of him again, no longer composed.

You are frustrated because you simply cannot figure out what I've done, is that not so, Marshall Wellington? - Sophia thought with a sly smile; everything was going according to plan.

-What did you do, woman? – He demanded.

-Nothing in particular, Marshal. I believe a smart man like you understands he is no position to demand answers.

He narrowed his eyes at her relaxed form.

-You already know what I want you to do, Marshal.

-I will not do it. – He said stubbornly.

-Not only do you not have anyone worthy of replacing you, someone with the same qualities as you to lead Britannia's armies worldwide, but you should also be aware that, even if you sacrificed yourself, you will still accomplish nothing. – She retaliated.

To have your own words returned to you is something I by experience know to be effective to add stress to the already stressed mind.

He had no choice but to comply in the end, just like she told him before.

Len had taken damage, but he was still alright. He was trying to ease his breathing slowly. Cheshire took more equipment casualty than Len, but, much to Len's uneasiness, he was still able to fight. Jim, however, was a different story. His frame was damaged beyond repair. The majority of the shrapnel attacked his cockpit, and he had no chance to eject.

Jim Philips groaned and suppressed painful screams, but his pain was audible to the ones present.

As for Ivan Clarke, he had but a few scratches that could hardly be considered damage.

His grin was still intact. He did not spare a glance to his teammates' predicament. He stared in wonder at the terrorist pilot. Oho, you're full of surprises… You are truly worth keeping an eye for…

Len could hardly concentrate. This is bad. I gained but a few minutes!

He was tired already. He did not think he would last too long against Cheshire, and he did not want to estimate how he would do against the other unscathed pilot. He had not even seen what he was capable of, but his gut told him that guy was one to watch out for. That foreboding was about correct.

Then he heard it, as did everyone else.

-All forces, retreat. – A male voice reverberated throughout the area.

Huh? – Was the only thing Len could think of after listening.

There were only three words, but few could have a more impacting meaning even in myriads.

-Is that who I think it is? – He whispered to himself.

He turned to look at his opponents. They stood still. Even Jim Phillips's cries were silenced.

-W-What is the meaning of this…? – Jim whispered in disbelief.

Ivan's grin also turned to the War Tower's direction. His eyes opened widely to reveal sea green eyes that could hardly contain excitement while maintaining a calm physiognomy, but the interest he felt leaked out of his pupils like light.

-Seems like there is more than one interesting person among these terrorists. – He commented.

-Heh! This isn't fair! I was just getting started! – Cheshire cried with a pout, almost moving his frame to make a tantrum.

-It can't be helped, Cheshire. – Jim consoled smiling. – Our Marshal's orders are absolute.

He then turned to Len. Besides, defeating you right now when you're this vulnerable would hardly be entertaining.

Len could feel a glare from Ivan Clarke. The instinct of pilots lets them see beyond the cockpit as they tune in with their opponent in the field. He put on a tough face in return.

Jim's Vincent Ward struggled to move with what little faculties it was left. Unfortunately for the injured pilot, his unflappable chauvinistic spirit would not make a difference in his equipment.

-You should give it up, Jim. – Ivan advised softly. - Your situation is hopeless, and you also need some urgent medical attention.

-Shut up, Ivan! I am not going to retreat on this bastard! I won't! – Jim shouted fiercely.

-My, my, aren't you a stubborn one. – Ivan commented casually.

-Very stubborn. – Cheshire repeated.

-I said shut up! – Jim screamed.

Ivan approached his Vincent and moved some piece in the back of the frame, which allowed the cockpit to be separated from the Vincent easily.

Len supposed it was a custom-made feature as he observed. He was still processing the fact that he, open and vulnerable as he was, would be left there. He suddenly came across the thought of that voice being the one responsible for that. His dark blue orbs dilated. Could it be? Does she really have this much power? – He thought perplexed.

-What are you doing? – Jim demanded. – Leave me alone, Ivan! – He yelled with his blue eyes as open as they could get while his cockpit was being carried away from the terrorist by Ivan's Vincent.

-Now, now, I cannot let you disobey the Marshal, Jim. He has just ordered us to retreat. – He said calmly.

-I don't care! Don't you find it suspicious? Something must be wrong! This has to be a mistake, a conspiracy!

-Jim, you must not forget your place. Our Marshal has given us an order… - Ivan's tone slowly changed into a more obscure one. - …And so we must obey. That is the basic command for every soldier to follow. Am I clear?

Jim could not utter another word. He knew that tone. He knew it was dangerous to say another syllable. Getting Ivan mad was not wise, even a resentful and proud man like he could tell it was better to give up. Not free of his ire, however, he turned to Len and shouted at him.

-Don't think I'll let you go next time! Remember this, terrorist! I will destroy you! I will make sure you pay ten times fold…!

Len would pay no more attention to the Britannian pilot's empty threats, slowly fading until their volume was nonexistent for Len's ears. He was too intrigued thinking how things had played out, how that girl's voice had made this happened. It was just beyond him to imagine it.

His Glasgow stood lone in the deserted field in a matter of minutes. He still couldn't believe it. He needed to know what was going on.

He attempted to communicate with Kotaro's transmitter in hopes of hearing of her, but he learned the transmitter was turned off.

Perhaps she's still busy? Did she survive after doing whatever to make this happen? She didn't sound like the type to sacrifice herself… Did she? …And I still don't know her name. Who was she? It doesn't seem like I'll find out tonight. I have the feeling I'll hear of her again, but when?

All other squads returned to the War Tower, utterly shocked by the Marshal's direct order delivered in such an unconventional method.

Marshall Wellington's voice was even heard by a group of three farther away.

-Seems like we underestimated her. – Syusuke mused aloud.

-Oh please! Do you really think that brat could do something like this? – Kaya replied with an angry sound.

-You're just mad at her for having shutting you up. – Shiro observed.

-What was that? – Kaya menaced while staring sharply at him.

-Nothing. – Shiro said uninterested; he did not feel like putting up with an angered Kaya at that moment.

-Then, how do you suppose their forces would retreat when they were at clear advantage? – Syusuke asked Kaya.

-Beats me. – Kaya looked away upset.

-Syusuke – San, I'm not saying you're wrong, but how could she, whom I suppose to be even younger than I, have any influence over the Marshal of Britannia?

Syusuke did not reply.

-We cannot possibly know when we do not even know her. – He said quietly.

Shiro knew he was inwardly very anxious about the answer to that question.

-How much power could a brat have anyway?

-You are forgetting, Kaya, that age is not a determining factor for influence and skill. Zero, our example and guide, is the living proof of that. – Shiro countered.

-Zero, huh? – Kaya spoke more calmly. – Is this brat conceited enough to believe she can pull off what Zero did?

-Is there anything we've witnessed tonight that proves she can't, Kaya? – Syusuke asked.

Neither Kaya nor Shiro replied to that and remained quiet for some seconds.

-I hope Len's alright. – Shiro expressed.

-As if that kid could get killed this easily! – Kaya exclaimed at him. – You think I would've let him get the chaos mine if he were weak? Don't say idiotic things, Shiro! You piss me off even more!

Once she was done yelling at him, she walked from the two men a few meters, sat in some lying log and lit a cigarette to smoke alone.

Shiro scratched his head.

-Tch. That woman is insufferable. She can't even be honest and say she's worried about him too.

-That's her way of reassuring us and herself that he'll be alright. – Syusuke smiled. – We know she is not very expressive, so we can't expect her to admit herself worried.

-It's still obnoxious. – Shiro replied.

-Rough women are seldom pleasing, Shiro.

The group continued watching over the field, though they could hardly distinguish the position of Len's Glasgow.

Elsewhere, there was yet another person who was also bewildered at Marshal Wellington's command.

-What is going on? – Yuuki Smith uttered with some difficulty after gawking.

Not doubting that something was off, she ran as fast as she could towards the War Tower.

I'm sorry, Yuki. Duty calls. But I promise I will keep looking for you if I must. – She swore to herself.

It is interesting how events unfurled that night. Those people she commanded did not even know her, but she still knew they would follow her. Before her voice made its appearance, they were but a group that would be cornered; they were only scapegoats, willing to sacrifice in the belief their likely loss would be of contribution to the rather hopeless situation of the Japanese. Then she came. She was their only hope and, as human nature has shown time and time again, they in the end chose to live by following her voice, however dark her orders were and however confusing her intentions would be. The Marshal had thought her those terrorists' leader, for what she heard, and all she had done so far was use them as tools while testing their worth. Now that it had come to that point, though, she was nearly convinced that group was the best she could get a grip on. Confident in her ability to guide them and knowing she had Zero's example available as a reference, she ventured to choose them.

Sophia and Marshall Wellington were looking at each other, though her face was still hidden.

-This win of yours is only temporary. – Wellington talked to her. – Sooner or later, my forces will find out something is not right here, and you killing me will only make someone else take over me and send the forces back outside. You're out of moves.

-Is that so, I wonder. – She played.

-Why do you keep your face hidden? If you are planning to kill me, why would you keep your identity a secret? Or is it that you are someone I know?

-Mmm, you're sharp, Marshal. However, I'll be the one to decide whether or not to show you my face. Like I said before, you are in no position to demand answers, but I can ask of you as much as I wish.

-What else could you possibly want to ask me?

-How about the truth of the events 9 years ago? – Sophia's voice got graver suddenly.

Wellington frowned at the unexpected question. The nature of the motives driving the one who had him hostage was becoming more apparent.

-Nine years ago?

-Back then, you were a only a General but close to be promoted to Marshal. You should be aware of this event involving Lelouch vi Britannia.

The Marshal suppressed a gasp, but his eyes could not help showing utter shock. That infamous name was not the type anyone could utter freely.

-What nonsense are you talking about? – He asked after regaining some composure. – Lelouch vi Britannia was killed nearly 2 decades ago!

-Is that so? – Sophia asked gravely, not amused. – Then, what do you think happened 9 years ago, more specifically, the night before Prince Samuel and Princess Sophia vi Britannia were adopted by King Schneizel?

Wellington's face was no longer able to contain its confusion. Sophia took a step closer and shortened the distance between the rifle's barrel and his head to emphasize her running out of patience.

-Their parents, who were Viscounts, died in a fire, leaving them orphaned and…

-I said I wanted the truth! – Sophia shouted at him for the first time. – Don't give me those frigging rumors!

Right then, Sophia took off the helmet. Her short but bright green hair framed her face. Her serious violet eyes looked at him directly.

Marshal Marshall Wellington was shell-shocked.

-Princess Sophia… - He whispered in something akin to disbelief.

His countenance made it obvious he could not figure out a reason for her to side with terrorists, but Sophia couldn't care less. Activating her left eye, the sigil of Geass appeared in it.

-You will answer my questions truthfully. – She ordered.

-Yes, Your Highness. – He submitted.

-What happened that night?

-I along with others was ordered to assault a house in the outskirts of Minovah, where a family of four lived.

Sophia gritted her teeth in pure contempt, but she could not stop listening keenly.

-There were two adults, a couple, and two children. We were not told anything regarding them, but we knew they were civilians. We were ordered to apprehend both the adults. The children were separated forcefully from the couple, whom we assumed were their parents. I do not know what became of the adults, as I was in charge of transporting the two children to a location where they would ride a helicopter. Their destination was unknown to me. I heard later they were adopted by the King, who said they did not deserve to suffer because their parents were traitors to the Empire. I did not understand, but no details were given to me regarding the King's reasons or the treasonous acts of which the couple was accused.

Sophia needed a moment to regain control of her own thoughts. She dragged a random chair and sat down. She even placed the rifle aside, no longer feeling strong enough to carry it.

-Do you not know the couple's whereabouts? – She asked.

-I do not, but Jonathan Lewis might.

A mysterious glister shone in her eyes at his words.

-Why would he know?

-Because he along with King Schneizel was to receive both of them after their capture.

-I see. – She replied automatically. - What about Prince Samuel vi Britannia? Where is he? Is he alive?

-He has disappeared as far as we know. Nobody knows what became of him. I believe he might have adopted a fake identity, but we have not found him yet after searching for him for years.

Sophia felt disappointed with each sentence he made. She truly wanted to cry but dared not to. Even though he would not remember the sight of her tears, she still refused to cry in front of a person representative of Britannia's power. It would make her feel as if she was losing to Britannia, as if her goal was far from true, and she could not afford to believe herself incapable of completing what she had already begun.

She needed a few minutes to calm down. Then a question she had not planned to ask tempted her mind.

-Does the name 'Z two' ring a bell? – She asked him.

-I only know he is somehow related to B.B.

Sophia frowned.

-Who is 'B two'?

-I myself do not know for sure. I have only read about him in a confidential file that was to be sent to Rosenberg Institute, titled with the initials 'Z.B.', but I could not take a deeper look into it, so I know no more.

Sophia tried to think about it carefully. She was aware of the existence of Rosenberg Institute, for she had the habit of sneaking into Schneizel's private library occasionally when that was all she could do to find out if anything on her brother had been discovered; she knew Schneizel did not plan to ever tell her anything regarding it.

Rosenberg Institute, also known as Code R, was dedicated to researching Geass and also developed technology kept secret from the public. That was all she knew about it.

They were interrupted by the sound of the Marshal's device ringing; someone was trying to communicate with him, someone who was not among the ones she had set her control over as she made her way to that room.

I am running out of time.

She felt disappointed for not having ended with more questions than answers, but she at least had a name for reference. Although she knew it was better to approach Schneizel, he was too dangerous to approach too soon. She could not let him discover her newly acquired power before she was strong enough to stop him from taking it away from her.

There was still one more issue she wanted to ask him about.

-What happened in Zero's execution? Was Suzaku Kururugi truly killed that time?

-The King himself took the responsibility of killing Zero. He was the only one present in his execution. The Black Knights attempted to stop him, but it seems they failed as there was an army defending the place. I was among them. They suffered great losses, but some managed to escape without leaving a trace. It is unknown what happened in the room of execution. The King claimed he had the body taken care of, and there were traces of blood in the floor, but that was all. Nothing was known of the Suzaku Kururugi's body.

Sophia sighed. He knew just as much as she knew before.

-You seem to be of no further use to me, Marshal.

Having said those words, she picked up the rifle and pulled the trigger.

She groaned as the force of the huge weapon threw her aback, making the chair's wheels roll back nearly a meter.

The sight in front of her was that of the dead body of Marshall Wellington. He was the only man she had killed that night with her own hands.

Putting on her helmet again, she proceeded to abandon the room before anyone came in. Her disguise helped her escape the War Tower, where havoc was gradually increasing.

Z.Z. sat up from the ground. He had come back to life soon after Smith left. He had been lying there thinking. When he heard the Marshal's words through the sound equipment of the War Tower, he admitted he was impressed to see she was following Zero's step more accurately than she realized. She had obtained victory with the enemy's retreat.

He stood up and picked up his bloody coat, throwing it over his left shoulder. With his coat lied Sophia's school uniform, also dirty, though not as much.

Momentarily, he recalled the pocket watch from earlier. She had sighed over it. Curious, he pulled it out of her skirt's pocket and opened it. There he saw a picture under the lid. He immediately noted the girl other than Sophia. Those green eyes were just like the ones of the woman that had killed him just then. It was too much of a coincidence to be one. He remembered Sophia asking him not to shoot at her earlier as well…

He closed his eyes, slightly disappointed. She still doesn't get it, does she? She cannot hold on to memories of the past. She cannot spare an enemy because she knows her… She might have pulled through this, but I still must scold her for this. What are you thinking, Snow? How will anything you do now be successful if you're unwilling to go with it all the way through? …This girl… Lelouch, she definitely is your daughter.

I want a pocket watch like that one! Who offers to make it and give it to me as a gift? ^w^ As always, I appreciate tips for writing action with mecha, since I'm new in it. I am aware they are not very interesting. Should I give more details on the fighting scenes or am I not being vague enough? Yes, I love flashbacks…! …Alright, I truly apologize for having delayed this chapter half a year! 16 weekly hours of college can do that to me, but I am done with that semester. Then I took summer courses… I have been busy, and this story in specific requires quite a lot of thought and time, so I cannot possibly update often. It also involves plenty of research of the original story; I can spend an entire day in the Code Geass Wikia (which I recommend because it's very complete and helpful). No, I'm not discouraged. Sometimes I think I am, but I suddenly get inspired, refine this plot and realize I just can't drop this. I was aware this one would be especially challenging before publishing the first chapter. It's Code Geass after all! I want to make a story worthy of such an amazing fandom. Please believe me, I took this challenge knowingly, and I won't back down on it just because it's tough. Overcoming this should make me a better writer. I humbly ask for your patience for this story's updates. Thank you very much for being my readers. Pop quiz time! This one's easy. Deduce Sophia's birthday and the last day she saw her brother! Also, can you guess where I got the number sequence for the electronic code lock from? Hint: You'll find the reason within this very window.