Chapter 4: Can't trust anyone these days.

0000~L~0000

Five nights later, the man that had destroyed the world found himself in a drizzle at the corner of a derelict shopping street. The bangs of his now white-bleached hair flowed out from under his beanie to stick to his wet face. Lelouch considered he probably looked more like a drowned cat then the ex-emperor, but all the same he kept himself out of the light. The house that was tonight's target stood silent across the street. Still, he was feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

Once more, he quizzed his untrustworthy father, "Are you absolutely certain that there is no-one there right now?"

The ghost made a noise that was almost like a sigh. "There is no one in the entire building; I am certain." Lelouch put his gloved hands in his jacket's pockets, nodding to himself. That was a clear answer, at least. The old king would not lie, and he had no reason to trick Lelouch. Probably.

Still, he felt his hackles rise. "And there is no-one heading this way right now?" the old monarch gave him a level stare, a face floating in the darkness. "The smugglers that own this building are very busy tonight, getting their bigger shipment onto a ship. The chances of them showing up here tonight are close to zero. As far as I know, no-one is on their way here."

Lelouch didn't want to go in: it was as simple as that. He wanted to be back in the abandoned little house, and scrape together a nice hot meal from- well, actually there was nothing left. The last cans had been emptied last night; chickpeas with tomato sauce. He considered it a decent wartime meal. But then again, it wasn't really war-time at all:the odd street-riot had had to be quelled, and there had been a few retaliations on Britannians, but all in all, the change of power had been… peaceful. Just as he had envisioned it; still, with Tamaki coronated as president tomorrow, Lelouch could not see things turning out well at all.

There had been little enough news beyond a statement giving the inauguration date of the new president, the speech Tamaki had given following Lelouch's script word for word. That was the thing that bothered Lelouch most: Not knowing: not knowing what had gone wrong, not knowing why it had gone wrong, or –most importantly perhaps- what else was going wrong. Right this instant, right now.

He was wasting time. "Alright, let's go."

The former Demon king made his way across the street nonchalantly, and then pushed against the front door. It was still closed. "Come on," he bit at his dead father, "open the door." That was the other thing it turned out his dead father could do for him. Open locks. There was an angry humph from the ghost.

The best part about this trick was that it seemed quite unpleasant for the ghost. "You can get yourself a lock picking set from your earnings tonight." The spirit said finally. A soft click resounded, and the door gave way.

And let you off? Lelouch nearly snickered. Over my dead body, father.

Pulling the door closed behind him, the store's entrance hall was left in pitch-black. The young man turned to the ghost again, a strangely luminescent face in the darkness. "Well? Where is the money?" It was annoying to have to count on the specter so much here, yet he also felt safer keeping his father preoccupied and in sight. The head shrugged again, "No idea, really. But I think you should check the storage room."

Lelouch's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "It took you two days to stake out this place, and you don't even know that much?" the old king had the audacity to look hurt. "I checked the other places you mentioned, too. This one just seemed best. The storage room is in the back. The money should be there."

There was some kind of a trick, he was sure of it. Pointedly, he turned away from the indicated door at the far back, and started his search at a broken down cash registry. After a few minutes of finding nothing the ghost interjected "Any money in there would be the store owner's. I thought you were going to steal smuggler money, as-" and he changed his voice to a low drone in an unsuccessful attempt to copy Lelouch's righteous speech persona: "People who rob should expect to get robbed themselves."

He gave his father a stare. Should he just leave now? The specter's eyes widened in what he assumed was supposed to be a look of innocence, claiming "The money is in a box in the back room, honest!" this was taking too long, Lelouch knew that. It was time to go. Still, his father did not lie; he went to the storage room. The sight that greeted him was not kind; it was full of boxes. "Which one father?" he grated.

"I don't know." the head said again. "One of these, most likely."

Angrily, Lelouch started pulling the indicated boxes off the shelves. Tearing off the lids, and leaving them where they lay when he had determined the contents. "There should be a metal box." His father was now helpfully supplying. "The money is in that box. It is dark green, about the size of a small briefcase." Lelouch found it. Without looking back he left, returning the way he came, throught the shop and out the front door. He bumped straight into the two officers standing at the shop's doorstep.

0000~0000

"I got set up." Lelouch tried to be amiable, tried to seem friendly and unobtrusive and innocent. He was good at it, usually. But right now, he was looking at his hated father. Who had set him up; tricked him again. Lelouch failed; he sneered.

"That is unfortunate." answered the man in front of him. They were back inside the empty shop again; the one Lelouch had just tried to rob. One of the men had just turned the lights on, and Lelouch and the officer sat quietly at a table, almost like they were about to have a cup of tea. Except for the handcuffs they'd put on him.

The men wore standard police uniforms, but the Demon King knew they could not have been officers for more than a few days; in the old Britannia days that role was for pure Britannians alone, and the slave-army with which he had replaced that police force was by now rooted out. These two men were Japanese; Elevens only a short while ago with little rights to anything. He supposed he should be happy for them, but right now, Lelouch was trying to go for scared.

He wasn't even managing that.

"You have to understand, my boy!"The ghost continued his fake plea; "I mean, what possible reason is there to set you up?" Lelouch tried not to scowl at what the officer likely thought was empty space.

The officer at his table smirked. Yes, he knew he was in trouble; so why couldn't Lelouch do scared?

"It is very unfortunate. An upstanding Britannian such as yourself, what was your name again..?" Lelouch ground his teeth. He hadn't supplied one yet, but that didn't seem to bother the officer. "Caught robbing an Eleven's shop…"

The implication was not lost on the young emperor. He had to concentrate: he used to do apologetic pretty well; except he kept getting distracted.

"And how would I do anything against you, my good son!" His father was continuing without pause. Not for the first time, Lelouch found himself wishing that head was solid so he could poke its eyes out. "I could not well have made a call to the bureau, as no-one can see nor hear me."

Clarity hit the prince like a rock; "Alarms."

"What?" Spoke two voices in discomforting unison.

"Alarms" Lelouch explained. "You set off the alarm when you opened the door. That's why it took so long."

The officer gave him a worried look, and then even chanced a glance at the place where Lelouch kept staring. Don't.

The ex-demon king finally managed a weak laugh. "Sorry. Me. I set off the alarm. I get confused."

The policeman nodded. "You 're some kind of a nutter."
It wasn't a question. No matter; just smile. "Seems that way, doesn't it?"

The lies came easy enough, but keeping his rage balled up with his mortal enemy right there in the room talking - pleading with him - made his eyebrow twitch. Regardless of what anyone said, his father was a lousy actor.

"My son, perhaps. But honestly, why would I get the only man that can see me arrested?"

-"Spite." By the angry look the officer shot him, the Demon king had just said that out loud. In a different context.

"What was that?" the policeman stood up, and actually looked menacing from this close.

Lelouch tried desperately to get that vacant smile back on his own face. Acting so crazy he deserved pity seemed about his last option by now. Luckily, the second officer rescued him by stepping inside that moment.

"I had captain Kouzuki on the phone." The man seemed honored. "She is coming over herself." Wait.

"Who?" The Demon king felt his mouth turn dry. Had he just imagined that smile on his father's lips?

The first officer was claiming his attention again now, though, a dangerous predatory smile on his face. "Oh, even you will know this one; this is the Black Knight's ace." The officer's nose was now just about touching his own, getting satisfaction from the real panic that was asserting itself on their captive. "She really is too kind to Britannians that manage some credibility. But a stealing bigot like you…"

The officer left the threat unfinished, rasping a dry chuckle. Lelouch found himself laughing along with the man. Despite everything, the oafish officer had actually managed to scare Lelouch.

That sounds like my Kallen alright. Another one of his chess pieces on the wrong square; another person he was not ready to meet. He put his chained hands together in what he thought was a safe shape not to be breaking any fingers, and brought them up in a fluid swing against the officer's jaw.

0000~K~0000

The radio built into Kallen's helmet crackled to life, producing a voice. "Please, Captain, we have this covered." She snickered, probably sounding a bit hysterical. She didn't care, pulling the throttle of her custom bike open all the way. "No-no. I don't mind. Let me."

The car they were chasing was losing its lead, one inch at the time, but traffic was thick here even this late at night and it was dangerous, even for her. She wove her way through the cars and trucks, getting through where the police cars could not. The yellow sports car was easy to follow, and she was close enough see the passenger's face as he turned to look at her. He turned back right away, yelling something into the driver's ear, and the expensive yellow vehicle sped up even faster.

Yes! Run, please run! She knew it was wrong to think like this, but chasing drug traffickers was as exciting as her life got these days.

When she had redeemed her freedom, less than a week ago, her family and friends had pressed her to return and finish school. She had tried, but she could not; the pent up energy from the last months needed a way out.

Two long months of inaction in a tiny jail cell, with only her execution to look forward to. And when she had finally broke free, her chance at fighting and vengeance was taken from her. The object of her anger already dead at her feet, doing the same thing to her as he had in life: walking that fine line between love and hate that kept her wondering; was he really the enemy, or a friend in disguise?

Regardless of how messed up she knew she was, going back to school was just not an option. That jail cell she had spent so many days in seemed about just as alluring; it was all just too boring. When the job of Tokyo's Police Captain came open, she had applied, and - due to her fame most likely - got the job. She would have preferred the army, but Toudou would not have taken her. He had been most clear she needed to return to her studies.

Kallen closed in on the escaping car, passing the last civilian between them, and inched her bike closer and closer. The fugitive car started swaying from lane to lane in panic, but she stuck to it like glue. The man in the passenger seat turned around, and she could see the metal of a gun flash in his hands.

Feeling giddy, she raised her bike's front wheel as the car's back window exploded from the first bullet. Then her heavy bike roared as it climbed up the wildly running car. Two bullets went through the roof, coming too close for comfort. As a rebuke Kallen brought the full weight of her motor's back wheel down on the roof. It creaked, and was pressed down with the weight, the occupants no doubt in serious trouble.

At that moment the car broke, its side running along the guardrail.

"Oh fuck," she realized that the car was about to crash, and drove off the rooftop with an open throttle. Landing next to the car on the slick asphalt, Kallen let the wheels on the bike speed up. She almost was thrown over the handlebars, but managed to right herself. The yellow sports car went over the rail, missing her head by inches as it spun through the air in a wild barrel-roll.

Kallen stopped, sirens closing in behind her, looking at the wreckage she had caused.

"Whoops" was her comment through the radio.

A somewhat tired sergeant answered in her ear. "Don't worry, Captain Kouzuki. I think they are alive. We'll handle it from here."

She supposed that they would; this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

"There's a call for you on the other line. Officer Hondai calls about a burglar they caught." He paused a moment, "The perpetrator is a Britannian, ma'am."

Now it was her turn to sigh: this sounded like a delicate matter. It was all Kallen could do to stop the civilians from burning every Britannian left in the country at a stake. And now one decided to go on a robbing spree?

"Put him through, Sarge. I'll handle this."

0000~K~0000

Despite all she had seen in her short life, Kallen Kouzuki had not considered the sight presented to her possible. For all the trouble her new police force had been in and had caused, she had though this particular pair of officers would have been better at following her orders. Finally, despite the sensitivity of this case, she had hoped it could have been defused without violence. It seemed she had been wrong on both accounts.

Across from the table, a boy close to her own age fidgeted for a moment, trying to find a more comfortable position in the chair he was taped to, before giving up. It seemed pointless, twisted with one arm taped solidly to the back of the chair; both ankles to the front legs. Only his left arm was relatively free, though cuffed to the other. The boy used it to hold on to the chair's back solidly so he could turn back to look her in the face.

The worst part of it was his face however; blood still ran from his damaged nose, and several swellings were already turning an alarming purple. One eye was swollen shut, though he kept the other in a weird half-closed slid. His whitewashed hair had an alarming dark spot, from which blood ran down his forehead into the swollen eye. The boy's lip was split, but despite that he pulled it up in uncomfortably wide, rather stupid, grin.

Fake smiles from a Britannian; what had the world come to?

"Officer Hondai," Kallen sighed finally "Please explain."

The officer at least had the decency to look ashamed. "Ma'am… it's…"

The other policeman cut in: "It's not like that, ma'am. He attacked us."

The man lifted the tissue he had pressed to his mouth from his face to show her. There was quite a bit of blood

"he broke my tooth." he explained.

Kallen turned to stare at the boy. "Why didn't you tell me about this when I talked to you on the phone, officer Hondai?" The boy seemed almost… familiar.

The policeman fidgeted. "Ah. It happened after, Captain. He, uhm."

Kallen allowed her voice to sound as incredulous as she felt. "This happened after you two arrested him?"

The second officer cut in again; Yamata, his name was, she thought. "He did! And he kept goading us too. He was asking for it…" he blinked for a moment, lowering his voice. "The sick-o probably likes it. He's not right in the head."

Kallen turned her back to the strange boy, keeping her voice low as well. She hoped the teen would not hear. "In other words, the two of you beat up a boy in cuffs, because he was goading you?" she rubbed a hand through her eyes.

Officer Hondai seemed to know what that meant, and looked petulant. Yamata had less sense; though he seemed to understand it was better the boy would not hear them. "He's a thieving Britannian piece of scum. You should have heard the things he said."

The officer did not seem to understand the trouble he was in: this was exactly the kind of violence she was trying to avoid. Kallen was going to have to apply some drastic disciplinary measures on these two to keep her credibility. At the very least, she would have to fire one of the men; and she had considered them one of her more loyal squads.

Then, there was the even bigger problem of keeping a Britannian thief in their office's jail: she would need quite a few or her more trusty guards just to make sure he wouldn't be lynched the moment she stepped out of her office.

Sighing again, Kallen turned back to the boy. He still had that vacant smile plastered on his face; perhaps he really was touched in the head. Maybe she could still salvage this situation after all. She gave him her worst scowl, so he might have some consideration of the trouble he was in. His smile only widened, painfully tearing his lower lip up even wider. Perhaps this was simply how he reacted to fear. "What is your name, boy?"

The boy didn't miss a beat. Maybe not so scared after all? "Am I under arrest?"

She harrumphed "I'll see you in jail right now, if you won't co-operate."

The boy clenched his teeth, but he was still smiling. "John. John Carrols. Can I go now?"

Shocked, she blinked at him. "Do you have any idea of the trouble you are in?"

Officer Yamata chose that moment to dump the contents of a green metal box on the table, explaining: "He had this with him when we caught him."

Coins and bills clattered on the table; it was a small fortune. The officer addressed their captive. "Where did you get that, Britannian?"

"From a box in the back." The boy answered, too quickly, and then seemed to think a moment. "It sure is a lot, isn't it? Would you believe it is mine instead?"

She snorted at him; still "We might want to talk to the shop owner about this, Yamata." there was way too much for a simple store like this; the place was likely used for less than legal activities on the side.

"Regardless of the amount, you just got caught robbing, boy." She glowered, hoping the boy would finally understand. He seemed to be preoccupied by something on her shoulder instead. Instinctively, she looked to see and brushed the offending shoulder off.

The boy shook himself, returning to that fake grin "My first time, honest. And I learned my lesson too. Just let me go and we can pretend it never happened."

In all reality, it wasn't even that bad an idea. But why did he look so familiar?

A thought hit her "Why do you bleach your hair then, John?"

It wasn't a rare thing to do, but these days it seemed odd to Kallen a Britannian would choose to stand out from the Japanese any more than needed.

The boy looked up a moment, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out and grab a strand. Then seemed to realize he couldn't reach. "Hmm, do you like it?"

"No. I prefer dark." She told him honestly.

"Oh." his smile didn't waver. "No reason, then."

Kallen took a chair and sat down. "Where's your family then, John?"

John made a good show of craning his neck to keep looking at her, but she chose to ignore it. He would likely only get less cooperative if they made him too comfortable.

Finally he sighed "In the homeland. I was sent here to stay with an aunt at the Sheefers. Unfortunately, the last emperor seems to have executed the bunch of them shortly before I arrived…" he trailed off. Shrugged, and then went back to his vacant smile.

Only a year ago, she would have thought it impossible she would ever pity a Britannian. "You're living rough."

The smile wavered a little, "It seems I should consider living at all a good piece of luck right now, don't you agree?"

Kallen didn't comment. They boy seemed frank enough, but she didn't like the way his open eye kept trailing up to the top of her head.

She looked up quickly, and he winced.

Yamata cut in one last time "Captain, you cannot actually be considering pitying this Homeland pig. He stole, called us Eleven filth…"

Kallen tensed; that name still hurt, even to her. Suddenly, Kallen understood Yamata, if only a little.

The boy caught on, a little smarter then she had given him credit.

"I'll press charges." He said, staring at her and finally dropping that annoying smile. Where had she seen that scowl before? But it was grasping at half memories, and the smile was back again.

Yamata laughed. "You'll what? You're Britannian, scum. You have no rights left."

But the boy shook his head, "Equal rights, sir. Excessive violence against an already pacified suspect should stick."

The boy half-frowned without losing his stupid smile. "I did have law in school, you know."

Kallen realized she had lost any sympathy she might have had for the boy. He pushed it regardless, addressing the police Captain personally. "Say, I have to ask. How does a war-hero like you get a lowly position as police captain? With the media-hype after you, I'd expected you to be leading the country or something."

Kallen grumbled. "I have plenty of responsibility, thank you; I am in charge of Tokyo law-enforcement. And I happen to like this job." She thought for a moment. "Cut him loose." She got up, ready to dismiss the boy, and then looked back at him menacingly. "If you get caught in something like this again, I'll personally authorize a real beating."

He was smiling again. Perhaps that really was from fear; Perhaps.

0000~L~0000

Lelouch only let his smile falter when the shop's door was slammed shut in his face. He hurt all over, but the blunt officer that had roughly ushered him out seemed to consider himself the wounded party. He had promised some kind of dark 'next time', but of course, if it was up to Lelouch, there would not be one.

This last half hour he counted as some of the best acting he ever did, and not so much because of the discomfort had been in while performing. Nor even did the damage he had taken running up to the performance make things excessively hard.

As seemed to be his life story, it was his father that had caused the most trouble.

He had talked excessively during the interrogation, determined to break his concentration. Joking or giving snide remarks, commenting on Kallen's figure; even smelling her hair.

Lelouch pulled his collar up and walked to the other side of the street as the floating face hummed happily next to him. Worst of all was the ghost's genuine approval of her.

They had reached the end of the street when the ghost repeated, "Seriously, you can at least get her pregnant, right? A nice strong woman like that; it might well be I cannot pass on simply because I don't have any grandchildren yet!"

That was the comment that had completely broken his concentration during the questioning, and had almost given him away to his Q1. But it no longer mattered.

"The deal is off, father." He told the ghost. "Get lost."

The floating head drew back as if it had been hit, which, of course, Lelouch would have already done if he could. "Off? You can't mean that boy. Come on, don't be mad. I found this marvelous empty house close by. There's still good food in the fridge. Here, I'll show you."

The ex-Demon King pointedly turned into another alley. "I may not be able to get rid of you, but I can ignore you." he said as he nonchalantly walked away. "I am better off without your so-called help, as I should have known. So let's see how well you do with no-one to talk to. You are dead to me, father. Good bye."

The ghost laughed at him and threatened to start singing. Lelouch pretended not to hear, even when it launched into the worst performance of their national anthem he had ever heard.

The old emperor sung songs deep into the night when they got back to the emptied house. Still, Lelouch had been so exhausted that he fell asleep regardless. When he woke up, the specter was no-where to be seen. Lelouch figured it was some kind of trick, but decided even a small chance was worth the gamble.

He picked up his coat and left.