Chapter 7

Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.

Further disclaimer: Turns out my mother and uncles are reading this. Mum....thanks but if you just want to skip the sex scene go on right ahead ok! It's the third segment. So just...um. Its artistic. No further comment.

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The crowds looked on as the limousines filled with VIPs filed past them, stern-faced soldiers looking on. The mob was mostly Japanese and extremely hostile. At the appearance of the Britannian flag they roared, rushing forward against the barriers. The limousine was pelted with rocks and bottles before a shield shimmered into existence, the Blaze Luminous surrounding it in a series of hexagonal layers that deflected it.

While the physics and mathematical basis behind a Blaze Luminous were horrendously complex, in essence it was simply an immensely powerful distortion of electrostatic charges that were maintained in a neutral containment field, the charged particles accelerated through a linear accelerator to near light-speed, forming a near-solid barrier that blocked and/or absorbed most attacks, be they kinetic projectiles or otherwise. It's only real challenge were masers or lasers as they only refracted them greatly and dissipated their energy rather than absorbing them.

The Tokyo Metropolitan Police had deployed in strength, the riot squad forming a cordon around the area, while the Tokyo Armoured Police Brigade had stationed themselves within the cordoned security zone of Chiba, where the summit was being held.

Black Knight Knightmare Frames stood on the tops of skyscrapers while jets flew overhead, a reminder to all of the tight security that the summit engendered. Further within were the Singapore Guards, a full battalion on standby while another battalion waited offshore, a strategic reserve prepared for deployment at an instants notice.

It was thought to be an impregnable fortress by all, or as impregnable as humanly possible. But as with most things human, there were always cracks in what was thought to be a perfect defence, especially from unexpected quarters.

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Miguel sat in the command room, looking at the numerous screens displaying the disposition of various forces. Despite not being able to openly have Britannia's military forces within rapid deployment in Japan, he'd brokered a deal to have the Special Intelligence Branch of the Taipei Axis, the Sixth State Bureau of Britannia and Central Intelligence Service of the UFN cooperating on security.

"You there. Marcus isn't it? Zoom in on that man there" a voice rang out even as runners entered and exited the room, distributing paperwork, coffee and various other material to the personnel. A recent spike in terrorist activity had seen multiple weapon imports interdicted by the UFN Maritime Forces Pacific Fleet and Japanese Coast Guard.

"Who'd have thought we'd be working together eh Miguel-sama?" Hirota Kesoga said to Miguel as he surveyed the room. Hirota was a fixture in the Japanese Diet, the intelligence tsar of Japan. Nicknamed the 'Mad Shogun', he'd been an active partner of the Kyoto House during the first revolution before its suppression.

Of all the directors and their lieutenants there, its was also notable to all that only Hirota dared to stand next to the Master of Assassins and his security section chief, Carlos Machado, a Hispanic man of medium athletic build at 5'9. A former amateur boxer and Combat Sambo champion, he was known to be as stubborn as a pit bull and just as tough. Despite his intimidating visage, his temper was non-existent.

Miguel closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. The Princess Consort Hera Manos, wife of Schneizel El Britannia, had pushed for meeting at this highly symbolic summit, a symbol of reconciliation. The former conqueror returning to pay respects and settle the peace. But what a logistical and operational nightmare it had become for the security personnel involved.

"I didn't ever expect this. But after all, peace makes for much stranger bedfellows than war. Of course, peace is preferable to the wars that Charles started."

"Peace. Lelouch's peace. Such a fragile peace in a way. Imagine if he were to just come back from the dead. After all, no one really knows who Zero is. I've always been suspicious about Zero. He never shows his face, constantly follows the Empress and Schneizel like a dog and sticks out like a sore thumb. A folk hero popular with the masses, but who is he really? One has to wonder...maybe Lelouch for some insane reason decided to fake his death?"

Hirota suddenly felt the temperature drop precipitously as Miguel turned to look at him, causing shivers to crawl across his skin. In a voice that held an undercurrent of tension and exasperation, Miguel fixed him in the eye as he spoke.

"Lelouch vi Britannia, aka Lelouch Lamperouge is dead. Dead. Quite dead. I can gurantee that. Of course, if someone managed to get the technology to clone him, and we all know that's a few decades away...well, if he does come back I'll be dead. It won't be my concern any longer."

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C.C. hissed softly as Lelouch kissed her neck, shivering at his amorous attentions. His long tongue quietly flicked a pulse point on her neck as he lay beside her, both of them on their sides. She reached out and slowly caressed him, her hand trailing across his face.

"Lulu..." she whispered softly as she felt the head of his penis slowly stroke against the soft folds of her vulva, her sex moist and ready to receive him. She felt the tension in his muscles, the movement of his hips as he gently spread her thighs, lifting one of them to better access her sex.

She giggled as his hands trailed softly across her elbow, the ticklish sensation making her laugh. Even since her pregnancy, the intensity of their love making had increased, if anything. She had to marvel at how he treated her, tenderly holding her as if she was made of porcelain or fine china.

He teased her, rubbing the length of his engorged manhood back and forth across her, drawing a shuddering breath from her before she gave another giggle and playfully smacked his thigh. She turned her neck back to kiss him as he slowly entered her, her lips parting before him.

A sharp intake of breath as his fingers began to skilfully caress the soft down of her womanhood, one hand stroking her clitoris before his dextrous fingers plunged into her womanhood to join his penis, a long but firm stroke on her g-spot making her buck her hips.

She pushed back slightly as they languidly made love, she pushing her hips back to meet his gentle thrusts. She heard a low moan from him before he let his teeth rasp across her skin, the soft skin of her neck turning red.

She felt the pressure build up within her, the beginnings of the 'little death' as tremors began in her muscles. Lelouch continued his ministrations even as she came, the wave of pleasure washing over her as she gripped his legs, clenching and unclenching her hands around his own.

He continued with gentle thrusts even as she came down from her peak before she was rewarded with another one, her vaginal walls tightening around Lelouch as she whimpered softly, her other hand on his face stretching into claws as she felt him tighten, muscles tensing and tightening beneath the skin. She finally felt him reach completion, his seed flowing into her.

In the afterglow, her skin flushed and red, she turned to look into his eyes, noting the hooded look he gave her, his eagerness to sleep not lost on her. She cuddle up with him, wrapping the sheets of their bed around them as she kissed him.

"You're incredible Lulu" she whispered to him softly.

"I had a great teacher" was his simple reply, enjoying the post-coital intimacy with his wife.

"Now we've got to start packing. We're supposed to meet Raven at the Arles rail station at 4 pm tomorrow. She'll be picking us up. She invited us to stay over at one of their guest houses."

Lelouch shook his head in amazement. "Exactly how are you able to network with people like this and befriend them Caramia? Aziz and Raven are really wealthy. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Aziz turned out to be an arms dealer or something with the amount of money they seem to have."

She wiggled her hips as she got out of bed, seeing the appreciative gleam in his eyes. "A girl learns quite a bit from living for seven centuries. Now out of the bed. I need to use the toilet and you need to get down and start cooking our dinner."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "Pizza. With lots of salami. And cheese in the crust. And pepperoni. Got it. What is it with you and pizza anyway?"

C.C. simply gave him a winsome look and winked. "It's round. Like my butt which you like so much. So get to it and start cooking loverboy."

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After dinner, as C.C. snoozed lightly on the couch, Lelouch ran his hand over her face. She looked so innocent, holding Cheese-kun to her closely while she lightly rested.

"You'll never know how much I love you C.C. You'll never know how much you saved me from the darkness of my Geass. How you made my final days tolerable. When you weren't there....I don't know how I endured. When I wanted to change the world, you were there for me. You believed in me...in what I could achieve" Lelouch thought slowly.

As he ran his fingers across her face, twisting the strands of her green hair through them, he collapsed to his knees, moaning and clutching his head. Caramia was up in a flash. In the past few weeks they'd started, always as if something was hammering away at his head. But it always subsided.

"Lelouch?" she asked worriedly as she helped him sit on the sofa. "I'll get the Panadol. Just sit here and -"

Just then he gave an abrupt scream and curled into a ball, hands clawing at his head. Thoughts in his head. Thoughts that weren't his. Thoughts. Images. Dreams.

The caress of a lover. A hand upon his face. His face was C.C.'s face. The dream of godhood. Desire. Lust. Love. Dreams that weren't his. Memories. Schneizel. Amshel. Hera. People he didn't know. Names he couldn't have known. Kallen. The Grail of Aslan.

"Lulu!" Caramia said worriedly as she knelt beside him, holding him to her body. For that was all she could do.

"C.C..." he whispered as the pain finally subsided. Then he felt it.

Her emotions filled him. Her love for him overlaying everything. Her worry. Her concern. He suddenly looked through another person's eyes at a figure lying on the floor. Him. He was looking through C.C.'s eyes. And then he felt the small mote within and without. A spark of awareness. A movement that spoke of life.

And he was back once more, gazing into C.C.'s sapphire eyes. And it reflected their emotions, of wonder and of fear.

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Kallen groaned as she looked at the guest list. On top of being called away from her regular job along with the rest of her battalion, all of whom were demobilised reservist members of the Black Knights who'd been called up, she'd caught acute coryza, also known as the common cold. It didn't help that a viral flu had decommissioned half of her unit.

It was severe enough that they'd put a battalion of regulars, professional soldiers, in charge of the security of the perimeter. Kallen had felt obligated to continue to perform and in the end had to be contented with becoming a part of the military bureaucracy as she signed form after form approving the flow of supplies.

She, the elite ace of the Black Knights, the Red Queen, had been reduced to nothing more than a cog in the logistics machine.

She coughed and blew her nose into a tissue before throwing it into the bin, adding to the growing pile within. She glanced at the forms that one of the general staff had slipped her, asking her to re-enlist in the military.

She was sorely tempted. To the average civilian it was all glamour and danger, but Kallen's motivation wasn't there. She'd fought for a free Japan, just like most of the Black Knights. Then they'd stood together against the oppression of Britannia's rule and the machinations of Schneizel and Lelouch during the Zero Requiem.

She'd lost her close friends and first love to the war, had nearly lost her mother, had her brother shot while protecting her. She'd given some of the best years of her life to making the dream of her brother, of a free Japan, a reality. Now all she wanted was a quiet corner to live her own life, free of any greater concerns. An average 23 year old woman with a job as a teacher. A meaningful, challenging job that gave her autonomy to live as she pleased.

No gunfights. No spies. Just simply tests, students, marking and the sheer, unadulterated joy of a good night's sleep in her underwear and not much else. Really not much else.

"Something got you down Kallen?" came a familiar voice and she turned to look. It was Navin. In his hands was a thermos. He wore a bomber jacket over a pale blue cotton shirt with simple black jeans, scuffed from a fall earlier in the day.

Right at that moment something in her nose clicked and she sneezed, the powerful burst of air from her lungs clearing her nostrils of the blockage. She closed her eyes and opened them to see Navin's grim expression, yellow mucous from her nose dripping from his face.

"Charming...." was all Navin could say, even as his face and tone told a diametrically different story. Kallen put her hands to her mouth as she muttered apologies, all the while trying not to laugh at his attempt to retain his dignity.

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"How did you get through the security?" Kallen asked him as she took a gulp from the thermos, filled with sweet ginger tea. A small tiffin can containing her dinner stood beside it, the scent of Indian food wafting from it. Navin was similar to Lelouch in that he was an excellent cook, able to cook French, South Indian, Peranakan and Chinese cuisine with ease. He'd also brought a mix of honey, lime and toddy for her sore throat.

Navin's face and hair were damp, the smell of citrus soap hanging in the air. Wet spots on his clothes bore evidence to the vigorous scrubbing he'd done on his face, no thanks to Kallen's accident.

"Guess there's an advantage to being that bastard's half-brother" Navin said with a grin. Kallen looked at him before his face became serious again. "Anwar got me through. The security here....they're paranoid as hell. I had to go through eighteen checkpoints just to get here. And twelve just to use the washroom. That and...well, a lot of the higher ups served with me during the war years in the Resistance."

Kallen nodded. "Say thanks to my mum for me. So what're you doing now that you're unemployed?"

Navin held up his motorcycle key. "I'm doing some work as a courier. Guess all that motocross racing came in handy. Since they've locked down the electronic communications in and out of here except for the public media, they need human couriers to carry communiques and all that stuff around. I wasn't cleared for this area but I pulled some strings and got in. As for now, I'm just going to take a quick nap before I leave. I've been running around the whole day. I just need to sit and take a breather."

Settling into the couch in the corner, Navin settled down for a light snooze as Kallen went back to work. With only his light breathing and the whisper of the air conditioner in the background she went to work, sorting through the guest list methodically and efficiently.

But she stumbled slightly as she read the last few names on the list.

"No. Not him. Not them."

She read the names again, checking to make sure she wasn't wrong. But in black and white, it read as clear as day. Duke James Stadtfeld IV and Captain Tycho Stadtfeld. Her father and brother.

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Nunnally looked at the vast contingent of troops present, all from the neutral Taipei Axis country of the Riau Federation. The Singapore Guards had a reputation as one of the most vicious and combat efficient fighting forces, rivalled only by the ROKMC (Republic of Korea Marine Corps), Sikh Royal Imperators and Gurkha Regiments in their reputation for professionalism and fighting capability.

They were also among the few fighting forces whom Britannia's Royal Marines feared, and rightfully so. Guardsmen were vicious fighters, born of a mongrel stock and experts in high-mobility amphibious, guerilla and jungle warfare, realms which the Royal Marines, though capable, were hard pressed to match the Guards in. The Singaporean troops of the Riau Federation were known for their attributes of discipline, professionalism, fighting spirit and courage bordering on suicidal.

However, it was the first three battalions that were particularly so. Composed wholly of regulars, a requirement within all three battalions was to have a brown belt in Krav Maga or be an Expert Level 4 or 5 along with being a 2nd dan in Hapkido. This was on top of them training for at least 3 years in Lethwei.

At the same time they were required to have essentially the same base level of physical fitness standards as an Olympic triathlete and were required to swim 15 km in the sea within 5 hours after which they were required to run 42 km in three hours as part of an annual test, along with a biannual 250 kilometre 'Hell March' over hilly jungle terrain and swamp over 3 days and a 150 km navigation exercise over two days consecutively. And these were just the standards required to remain within the battalion.

Along with their infamous 'Hell Week', copied from the Royal Navy SEAL 's of Britannia, their basic and intermediate training stages were perhaps amongst the harshest, with a requirement of 65% minimum accuracy during marksmanship tests, with most recruits scoring in the 85th percentile or higher of their cohort during vocational aptitude tests compared to the average soldier. The Hell Week involved a constant 132 hours of physical activity with only four hours of sleep. At this point only about 30% of the recruits made it through.

The standards were lower but no less rigorous for other battalions within the formation, for they were composed of 'washouts' from the main battalions, from which commando fighters and naval divers were also pulled. But the "Holy Trinity" of the three main battalions was the gold standard and few if any could match them.

Coupled with their vocational training to high levels of competency, with most receiving additional combat medic and signaller training over the course of their initial two years, it was little surprise that such an elite group was guarding them.

She passed through a checkpoint with her bodyguards and they saluted crisply though their eyes remained guarded as they glanced at the Imperial Britannia symbol upon the shoulders of her bodyguards. A master sergeant waved them through with a salute before turning his attention back to manning the checkpoint.

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Her father's legacy had left an extreme amount of bad blood between Britannia and the rest of the world. It would take decades before people would ever begin to trust Britannia again. Lelouch had changed the world for the better in many ways and given his life for it, becoming a symbol of hatred and dishonour as a way for Nunnally to utilise in the new world order. His legacy of the Black Knights was something that would endure though.

"My dearest sister-in-law, how are you today?" came a familiar voice.

"Fhajad. So nice to meet you. We're not family just yet" Nunnally replied, plastering a smile on her face. As the Empress, the marriage had gained her tacit approval but it was still worrying. Sophia still retained her rights to the throne and if anything were to happen to her, Cornelia or Schneizel, Sophia was the next in line. Fhajad's ambitions were known to extend only to his current holdings but the union was worrying nonetheless, though Miguel had told her of internal divisions within the Sahar family that balanced Fhajad out.

"How's your brother? Not the younger one Navin, the one with Kallen. Your older one? Altair is it?"

A spark of unidentifiable emotion appeared in Fhajad's eyes. "Altair is doing well. As is his family. Why do you ask?"

She smiled. "No reason. Family is important after all. Because in a marriage, one doesn't just marry the individual. They marry into the family. This can create conflicts. Ever heard of Romeo and Juliet? They succumbed to their desire for one another and in the end, both paid for it with their lives. In this harsh reality of ours, love doesn't necessarily translate to a happy marriage. Especially when politics is involved."

Fhajad fixed her with a glare. "I take it you don't approve of the union."

"I never did. Do you plan to have your heirs inherit both empires? Sophia hasn't surrendered her throne rights, nor have you explained to me fully what your plans are. Not for your young empire. Your ambitions are clear. You're transparent in that you say you seek a peaceful rise. But what assurances are there to your words? Your actions speak otherwise. Your secret psychic projects for example?"

Fhajad's eyes narrowed. "State secrets. A weapon to wield in case of external and internal threats. You know that. After all, you had your Code-R projects and your own deals with the Geass Directorate. My psychics are no different than the deals the Britannians cut with the GD. I treat them better than the way you treat yours after all."

Nunnally replied dismissively."My father's time. Lelouch exterminated them but some survived. I had them eliminated. To have such a power going wild would endanger the world. After all, this is the peace my brother gave the world. It is my duty to maintain it, to make it better. Such a power threatens the peace. The knowledge has been destroyed. But a man like you possessing such power?"

The silence between them became pregnant with tension before Nunnally gave a little laugh laced with relief. "Miguel told me to trust you. He said that you could be trusted, because he knows you through and through. He said to me; have faith in the young king, for with him lies a spark of nobility. You're arrogant, self-confident to the point of it. You're intelligent, probably as much as Schneizel. You're also an ass of the first-class, though those are the words of Miguel. But you're an idealist like he said you are. And Miguel, I trust with my life."

"What else did Miguel say?" Fhajad asked nonchalantly. Nunnally's smile became a smirk as she looked him up and down. Every inch the imperial ruler yet ever so much the man her sister loved.

She could see now why the marriage would be good. In the long term a man like this was a valuable ally. As for the question of heirs - it could be settled another time. For now this man would be trusted. Her sister Sophia had this man in the palm of her hand. Miguel, Cornelia and Schneizel were right in their assessment. The more intelligent a man was, in many ways the more emotionally vulnerable he would become towards his partner.

"Nothing much. But I'm surprised you've never used your psychic powers in the open. Any man could withstand adversity. But if you want to test his mettle, give him power, as my ancestor Duke Abraham of the Lincoln family once said" Nunnally said as she turned to leave, dialling down the power setting of the psychic dampener planted in her left ear.

Fhajad stood still, looking at her in shock. As he watched her retreating form he began to laugh. He would prove to the world, to the Diamond Lotus themselves that he was every inch the man his father was and more. He was Sahar. What made them feared was not their psychic skill nor their wealth or wit. It wasn't even the prowess of their fighting skills or their political acumen and diplomacy. He remembered the words of his mother Ashima as she lectured him as a child.

"A world is supported by these things; the courage of the warrior, the wisdom of the sage, the knowledge of the magician, the toil of the caregiver, the care of the altruist, the energy of the innocent, the humours of the jester, the endurance of the seeker, the chaos of the outlaw, the imagination of the seeker and the communication of the lover. All of these archetypes have their attributes and qualities that lead to a society. Your father is one of those pillars for he is a warrior just like you are. But all of these are as nothing, nothing. Not without us."

"Why mother?"

"Because above all of them rises the ruler. We take responsibility for the greater good. We command. We bring discipline to the chaos. We bring the law to govern. We protect our people. We destroy corruption. We exist to serve and bind all the rest together. We lead and in doing so we serve. We are born for this. It is our destiny. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Just like the Britannians, we are the strongest. But unlike them, we know our place. Your psychic prowess is worthless if you don't train the mind. For psi can be blocked, stripped by the machinations of man. Yet they can never take away one thing- your mind."

"Well mother...you were right. But you were also wrong" Fhajad mused silently. There were other universes out there, the Diamond Lotus existing in so many. His great dynasty sprawled among them and in centuries, in an age he would not live to see, the people of this world would join the teeming mass of humanity that existed beyond.

But that was only if they survived the coming storm. The Kralizec.

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"Kralizec". Alamgir rolled it around in his mind. The knowledge he'd absorbed from Aslan, the knowledge that befitted him as the new En Sabah Nur came to him, filling the many voids in his pool of experience and knowledge. "What is Kralizec?"

"The typhoon-like forces, the indifference of which was concealed within apparitions of beneficence and malignancy. Kralizec was its offspring and all their manifold opponents, resources, and sources of harm."

Alamgir blankly looked at him and Aziz shook his head before trying to explain again.

"What Kralizec doesn't destroy are perforce the embodiments of perishable excellences, excellences that became occasions for apparitions of decadence. But apparitions which are decadent or excellent only as they are lead to death or renewal. Kralizec is especially each crisis in which a kind shows itself to be decadent, by dying, or shows itself to be excellent, by surviving and thriving."

"So what you're saying in a non-obfuscating way that a layman can understand is that it is a natural event that comes to test whether the human animal is fit for survival, both as an individual and at the level of a group? A natural force that happens to every sapient species?" Alamgir asked quizzically.

Aziz nodded. "Every society reaches a point where it evolves in a sudden phase change like water boiling to vapour reaches a critical point where societal pressures among various factions develops and a need arises to test who is most fit. Sometimes...evolution isn't about who is most fit to survive but who is lucky enough to survive the momentous event."

Alamgir listened as Aziz continued his lecture. It was knowledge of the future, knowledge he lacked. And the Arbitrator always seemed to never have a lack of knowledge, no matter the topic.

"Humans are here because of a combination of both strength and luck. The strength was adaptability and intelligence. The rest was luck. It comes about as a convergence of many factors."

"But what's your interest in all this Lord Azalu-?" Alamgir spoke before he was cut off. Aziz's brows furrowed in irritation.

"Do not call me that name. It's something from long ago. I'm not Imperial Ulthaj nor are there any Ulthaj outside of the domain determined by Azaluhaiz. Azaluhaiz gave the Omniverse freedom from the Ulthaj and gave the Ulthaj freedom within the domain of his creation. This is only a shade of a shadow of a pale reflection upon water. Even less" Aziz said as he gestured to himself.

"The Typhoon Struggle. The Levant Storm. So many names for a simple thing" Alamgir mused. For certain anomalous reasons he'd never been able to penetrate Aziz's mind. It was, for lack of a better word, undetectable. For all intents and purposes Aziz didn't have a mind he could detect. Yet he was human. Smelt, looked and felt human too. Anomaly.

"What do you want Alamgir?" Aziz said, eyes cocked. In the cool Mediterranean autumn, as they sat by the seaside in Arles, overlooking the azure of the sea, the two sat, one awaiting the answer, one pondering it.

"What I want....is for an evolution through gradual change. Change in slow increments. Changes that humanity can handle. I've Aslan's memories. I've seen far too often human societies reach a point of self-destruction and from there it's a spiral. All too often I've seen them unable to handle the technological singularity that occurs, the explosion in the amount and complexity of information that deluges their society. Just as often human societies have survived without our intervention."

Aziz smiled. "But why this particular one? You possess the power to bring all the immortals to another universe and start over. Alternative realities and timelines even. What's so special about this one that you choose to persist in this, knowing of the events to come?"

"Why are you here Aziz? Why is the Laughing God present in this time and place with a senior consort no less?"

Aziz looked at him. "My reasons are my own. This diminished instrumentality is simply something I do. Humans and lesser beings don't understand. Not even immortals. But the story that occurs around us, the events that happen – they are about you and your motivations. Now answer me. Take it as an order if you will."

Alamgir stopped to consider the answer. He wouldn't be able to get a straight answer out of the Arbitrator unless Aziz allowed it and even that there were layers to the truth that he gave. So really, there was no point in arguing with him. But could he speak honestly? He looked up and met Aziz's gaze.

"Love. A love for this place which has become my home. A love for the people whom I've adopted as my own. I suppose I want to see what happens here because they're so interesting. So unlike the other human societies out there."

He hesitated and looked at Aziz. Aziz motioned for him to continue, nodding his head.

"Rarity and beauty. It's a rich tapestry that constantly unfolds. There's always chaos. There's always something happening. And I suppose for an immortal like me...for all those under my charge...we have fallen in love with this life and this reality. We have formed bonds and relationships here and I suppose we have an attachment to it. Nothing is ever the same. Humanity changes with time and I want to see where it leads."

Aziz smiled enigmatically before rising from the table. "A good answer. If that's the case I'll leave you. I've got two infant children to worry about. Plus I've got guests coming over tomorrow. Stick around and meet them."

Alamgir shook his head. "I'm busy Aziz. I teleported here from Japan. I thought you had something important to talk to me about but all we did was sit down and discuss philosophy and motivations. What's the entire point? I've got other things to worry about. I still can't find Lelouch, let alone Caramia. Not with my current level of proficiency with these new powers. I -"

Aziz waved his hand, silencing him. "Stay the night. Stay for dinner. All will be well. I'm your friend after all aren't I? Besides, my wife has always been eager to meet and talk to the one who Zethrei and Aslan were so effusive about. Sit. Eat. Drink. Be at peace. And worry not for the morrow promises hope."

Alamgir shrugged. He had nothing better to do. Might as well stay. Besides, Raven's linguine and pasta were good.

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The tension amongst the troops was on the rise. Zaki looked at the bank of monitors, at the surging crowd of protesters that had only grown larger with time. The layer of defences was simple. The Guards looked after the inner compound, manning the checkpoints and providing a massive wall of protection to the VIPs within.

A hard-bitten and lean man in his middle age, he was as fit as many of the younger men under his command. A contemporary of Kiseki no Tohdoh if less famous, he'd met and worked with Kyoshiro Tohdoh several times in the past. To think that he'd become deputy prime minister....

"Thinking about something Zach?" Anwar said as he walked in, adjusting the straps of the Pahlawan.

"Not much. Just looking forward to retirement. I'm opening a little bar along Orchard Road back home. My children are grown up and leaving the house, my youngest is following in the footsteps and has enlisted, is now a section commander in 2nd Guards. My wife is asking me to quit and enjoy my retirement."

"You. Retire?" Anwar asked, almost incredulous. Zaki had been in the military for the better part of 15 years. A commander known for his firmness and deft hand with military politics, he was the battalion S-4, in charge of logistics. Often considered the toughest job of the lot, he'd passed with flying colours. He was also the RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major), known for his soft but commanding voice and aura of calm.

Zach sighed. "I'm not like you Anwar. I'm a volunteer. You're a career military man. I enlisted when I was 30, joined up to fight the Britannians and Chinese. I was an accountant before that. A paper pusher. I'm 45 now. I've done my time, served with pride. Getting my discharge when we land back in Singapore after this. You enlisted when again? Right. 16. Now you're 33, a CSM (Company Sergeant Major) and a staff sergeant to boot. You're successful, one of the best soldiers in the regiment. I've got another ten years if I extended but I'm done. Moving on. I served my country. Now it's time for me to rest. Come. We'll talk about this later. Right now -"

Just then alarms began to blare throughout the complex as the screens suddenly blanked out. Distant explosions and gunfire could be heard before the radio net suddenly exploded with a flurry of activity.

Anwar rushed to a console and as his eyes scrolled down the incoming messages he swore under his breath as he reached out to grab his rifle, activating the urban camouflage pattern on his survival suit.

"Give me a feed on the main entrance. This is HQ to all point. Maintain radio discipline and sound off. Tell me what's happening. Out" Zaki finished, putting the earpiece down. Slowly the screens cleared of static to reveal a scene of carnage, dismembered bodies strewn all over the place. A crowd of people dressed in costumes that resembled Zero filled the space, wielding rifles and pistols.

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The protest had turned into a violent riot as all over Tokyo Metropolitan Police units responded to the disturbance. Rioters hurled Molotov cocktails and gas grenades at the riot police before out of nowhere people emerged from beneath the ground through manholes, carrying satchels.

Throughout the mob they were handed the satchels before the people disappeared back into the utility tunnels and sewer works that ran beneath the city, the undercity beneath filled with a honeycomb of bunkers, bomb shelters, tunnels and corridors leading to numerous points in the downtown.

The psychics shared a glance before nodding. Under the Chawla-Kurzweil Psychic Index they were classified as high Tier 3 psychics. Since psychic powers were so often arbitrary and defied specific classification, they were divided into general tiers, each of which had three grades; low, moderate and high.

"Their will be done. Shall we proceed?"

A slight nod of the other's head and they concentrated. Just like the Geass, the power of psi reached into fabric of one's mind, shifting and altering energy patterns. Just like a Geass, though far more potent.

Their mistreated brethren in India would have their revenge. The young emperor had thought to liquidate the 'failures', broken of mind and a danger to all. To spread among his people wild psychic talent, sowing a crop to reap in the future for his empire and military.

But as he had sown, so would he reap. The Sahar's would pay in their blood. Even now their brethren in India executed their plan. They focused their powers upon the police personnel within the Knightmares, searching for the trigger. They'd been busy in the past few months, the constant decoys and false alarms testing the potency of the web that the Master of Assassins wove.

Though innocent blood was spilled it could be forgiven. The innocent simply paid the price of the guilty. All blood was red after all. Britannians would pay the price for the mistakes of their government as would the Indians.

"Nippon Banzai!" they shouted over their radio, the trigger word worming its way into the minds of the people who heard it, infused further with the focus of all the psychics present. The clones of Kyoshiro Tohdoh and the deceased Black Tiger would spread chaos and leave in their wake a glorious slaughter while the clones of Lelouch, all masked within behind the mask of Zero, would show the world the deception wrought by Britannia, China, India and Japan.

Within the metal shells the policemen lurched and jerked as if hit by a strike. A strike it was, a strike of compulsion more powerful than any Geass, a mental virus that spread to all it touched.

"NIPPON BANZAI! DEATH TO ALL BRITANNIANS! DEATH TO ALL WHO DEFILE NOBLE JAPAN!"

And then the slaughter began.

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Within the walls, Hera heard the explosions that started, a chain of them shaking the complex and causing dust to fall from the ceiling. She acted superbly, huddling under the table besides Nunnally. She heard the voices over the battle net. The babble of confusion was quickly replaced by a strong voice that spoke of long years of command, one accustomed to obedience. A Guardsman. They were perhaps the biggest tactical obstacle to her forces but only an impediment.

The activities of her organisation which she'd named the simple 'De Dios' was composed of many sleeper agents, unwilling and otherwise. With a simple phrase or psychic charge she could activate them. She'd resurrected the Geass Directorate in recent months after contacting the survivors, shifting their activities to mobile bases based in the South Pacific and in the new space stations that orbited Earth.

They even had forward outposts on the lunar surface, sleepers planted among the various corporations, consortiums and space agencies that had expanded into the unbound frontier beyond the atmosphere. Like a tree she had sunk her roots deep into the ground.

All it took was for a single domino to fall and her schemes would reach fruition. An ancient Greek philosopher had once said that people would fight for fear, interest and honour, often in varying degrees.

The world Lelouch had left was rich in these ingredients. All Hera had to do was manipulate them. For the Britannians were an empire whose power had begun to pale in comparison to the behemoths of Eurasia that had arisen since the time of the Zero Requiem and it's people felt humiliation.

Such a people could easily be goaded to fight for honour. The Asians were a culture that had survived for millennia and against the power of Britannia they would fight out of fear. As for the Europeans, they could easily be goaded to fighting for interest.

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Alarms blared throughout the complex as Kallen accelerated her Guren Toukijin through the opening blast doors, right into the trail of several incendiary warheads. Her shield deflected the punishing barrage of rocket-propelled grenades away from her. She activated her cameras, switching to thermal imaging.

Ever since the massacre of the Japanese people, known now as Euphemia's Genocide, she'd sworn to never allow something of such magnitude and horror to ever happen again. The scene that met her caused her gorge to rise before she calmed herself, swallowing it once more.

She dry heaved and heaved again before getting it under control, switching to BWIM (Black-White Image Mode), pulling in deep breathes of air. She was the XO of the 6th Itsukushima Tengu, the Red Queen of the Black Knights. She had to maintain control.

"All squads maintain your spread. Find out who's responsible. The police net is in total chaos and the Singapore Guards are reporting that several of the police are attacking them along with the rioters. So far they've avoided using live rounds but their options using water cannons and tear gas are limited. We need -" her transmission over the tac/com was suddenly cut off as several Knightmares closed in around her.

"Kallen Kozuki. You're half-Japanese aren't you? Your lover a filthy foreigner as well isn't he?" came the scrambled voice over the tac/com.

"This is Captain Kazuo Kiriyama of 2nd Company. To think that we'd be under the command of a bastard half-Britannian disgusted me as it did all Japanese in the regiment. Those of the Purifiers seek justice for the scourge of hybrids that came from Britannia's occupation of Japan. Even our Prime Minister takes a Britannian as a wife, even having a son with her. Such travesties cannot be tolerated. Now you have the honour of being the first to die by the hands of the Ishida Clan. An example to all who defile the purity of Japan and its people."

The Knightmares around her suddenly turned on her, capturing and immobilising her in a net of barbed Slash Harkens before she could react as they placed their cannons point blank to her cockpit. The face of Kazuo Kiriyama filled her screen as he stepped out in an Akatsuki, his Kaiten Yaibatou vibrating shrilly in his hand as he pointed the tip of it at the sternum of her Knightmare. With a sudden thrust, he sent the tip of it lunging towards her cockpit.

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The Guren Tokijin had several major improvements over the Guren SEITEN Hakkyokushiki. Aside from retaining all the advantages, Japanese and Korean engineers had replaced much of the traditional alloyed steel armour with the more resilient Selet MMC (Metal Matrix Composite), a titanium superalloy combined with several ceramic carbides, ceramic borides and ceramic nitrides, along with a compressed layer of depleted uranium and a spall liner layer of thick Kevlar and Dyneema weave.

A layer of polycrystalline composite steel armour backed with flexible plasteel and mechanically rugged durasteel alloys were interspersed with aggregated diamond nanorods at the micrometre scale that boosted the entire tensile strength, mechanical ruggedness and thermal resistance of the entire armour structure to astounding levels far beyond anything on the battlefield.

Furthering this was a layer of Titanium-A battle plate reinforcing the joints along with Masyaf polymer panels. All of this was placed beneath a layer of electrically reactive armour which could stop most armour piercing munitions and was reinforced with tungsten carbide and boron nitride.

This increased the durability of the Guren Tokijin while decreasing its weight. Similarly its power plant and engine system had a doubled power output, improving the power-weight ratio. Along with a Radiant Wave Surger (RWS) field which utilised high energy microwave emissions as a defensive measure against most kinetic projectiles and dissipated the energy of particle beams as well as an additional electrostatic-based energy shield based around the Blaze Luminous, it's defensive level was at least 500% above most combat platforms on the battlefield.

Similarly, the addition of two dual baryon cannons and a single hadron cannon to either shoulder and triple-linked plasma cannons in the torso had granted the Guren Tokijin a level of firepower that was best described as overkill to the point of insanity and point defence lasers at the head, shoulders and hips of the Knightmare.

The Slash Harken's were similarly modified to send powerful electrical charges down their length and could release monofilament wires from the tips as well, several hundred spools of the molecule-thick wire stored within the Guren.

The servomotors and hydraulics had been upgraded and additional electromotive artificial muscle fibres had been grafted onto the entire structure, increasing the power-to-weight ratio to a level unseen in any other model excepting the elite Indra's of the Colombo Imperial Guard, which were essentially advanced Shen Hu's modified with extra Titanium-A armour, an ADT system, Gefjun disturbers, two hadron cannons and two baryon cannons. In mechanical terms, it possessed enough raw power to overpower even a Britannian Mordred or Galahad and crush its armour, a feat only ever achieved by Fhajad's personal Indra.

All of this hardware was run and managed by an advanced computing system that connected isolated biologically-based electrochemical neutral networks using minute amounts of cortex tissue grafted to silicon microships in an optical computing network of tremendous potency. Had Evangelion or Gundam battle platforms existed in that reality, they would have avoided any conflict with the Guren Tokijin.

Of course Major Kallen Kozuki was yet to learn this as most of this was listed in the operating manual for the Knightmare which she'd yet to read due to it being as thick as a telephone directory. Such a Knightmare wasn't going to go down from an attack by an Akatsuki of all things.

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The blade snapped along its central axis and Kiriyama could only stare in shock before the Red Queen reacted, whirling her K-frame around and decapitating his unit before he could react. Blinded and lacking his sensors, Kiriyama attempted to retreat before he found his Akatsuki grinding to a halt.

The sudden increase in heat told him exactly what was about to happen as he screamed, the flesh searing from his bones before his bones too disintegrated to a fine dust, all in a matter of milliseconds as his Akatsuki exploded in a shower of molten metal. His sword lay splintered on the ground, not even a scratch on the surface of the Guren Tokijin.

Kallen whirled around to meet the other Knightmares as she flipped switches around her cockpit, eager to try out her Guren Tokijin in the field of battle, keen to baptise her new frame in the flames of battle.

She fired her Slash Harkens as she dodged to the left and then rammed into the opposing Akatsuki, dismembering them in a shower of flames and molten steel before she activated the plasma cannons and switched it to pulse mode, sending bolts of scorching white-blue plasma over the enemy Akatsuki's. She cycled quickly through the modes of fire - pulse, stream, charge, beam and blast – before setting it to pulse. She didn't have the full hang of her Knightmare yet.

In a matter of moments it was over as she looked at the remains of the Knightmare Frames scattered around her. She turned around just as an Indra came barrelling through a wall, a massive chain-axe grasped in the arms that were modified for close combat.

She hadn't heard or detected it coming, covered in a stealth film that greatly reduced its radar and thermal signature to the point that its sensor cross-section was comparable to an insect. She lashed out with a kick from her Guren, the Indra barely dodging the blow as it glanced across its torso and left a dent in its frontal armour. It backed away, giving ground as it made clear its intent was non-aggressive.

The calm voice of the pilot came over the tac/com, his face on screen that of a broad-nosed man of Indo-Tibetan descent. "Major Kozuki. I am Kshatriya Dhamsig of Clan Masig of the Rahai, of the lineage of Sahar, second cousin to the Emperor. Shah Fhajad sent me to aid you but I see that you require no such aid. Are you aware of the current situation? I'm unable to contact my Shah by all the means available to me."

Kallen shook her head. She didn't even know what was going on but could surmise one thing. The one thing Kaname Ohgi had always feared had just occurred. Elements of the Japan supremacist movements, supported by former member of the Japanese Liberation Front and the Kyoto House had struck.

"Escort me to the Guards HQ outside of Chiba. That's probably the safest place right now. I'll be going airborne to assess the situation. What's the disposition of military and police forces in the vicinity?"

With the click of a few buttons sent her a feed, letting her computer system establish a link to the main battle net. On her screen a deluge of orange dots fighting with small islands of blue rapidly appeared. Orange stood for units or entities of unknown alignment. The sheer number of them wasn't looking good. The feed fizzled with static as someone attempted disruption of the net, jamming the frequencies. Several times it got cut off but held.

"Major Kozuki. Several of the police units have seemingly turned on one another and have descended into chaos. Suicide bombers have breached the summit complex at multiple points in strength. The riot police have seemingly joined sides with rioters against the Singapore Guards."

"Anything else? Anything good?" Kallen asked. Dhamsig smiled grimly on the screen. Briefly she was reminded of the late Ryoga Senba. Another comrade lost to the war. To Britannia.

"Mobs of people are looting and destroying everything in the vicinity. And Guards HQ is unable to contact us. They're seemingly jammed. Even my fellow Kshatriya's are unable to coordinate. The situation is FUBAR."

Kallen continued to stare at the sheer number of orange on her displays before coming to a snap decision."You're coming with me Dhamsig. I know your Indra has a C3 (Command, Control & Communication) suite. Right now I'll need you to handle all my communications. We're going to regroup all of my battalion and we're going to contain this mess and coordinate with whoever's in command. Understood?"

"Affirmative major. I'll take position on your six" Dhamsig responded coolly, moving swiftly into line behind her, his chain-axe hefted into his right arm while he drew a chain-sword in his left. He lived to serve the Shah, his cousin and battle brother.

He'd heard Lord Fhajad's comments about this woman and her reputation in battle. The Red Queen. Her conduct during this time would give insight into her to say the least. And his initial impression of her was already favourable.

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Navin stealthily made his way through the levels, up through the blasted checkpoints where the Guardsmen held the rioters and policemen at bay. So far the Guards had continued to use non-lethal options but they were fast running out as the aggression of the mobs increased with time.

Zaki had been at the command post when they'd lost contact with it and the last word of Anwar was that he'd deployed with his company down in the basement levels in an attempt to secure the foundations from being blown out by bombers.

He checked his cell phone again only to receive the same message. The communication facilities had been the first to go, the broadcast towers of all the major Tokyo telecommunications providers destroyed at the same time. The last news he'd received from the outside was of rioting throughout Tokyo and a shutdown of the airport.

He suddenly stopped as he heard a weak voice in his mind.

"Navin. Come to the stairwell along the east service corridor along level two of the North Wing. It's me. Fhajad."

"Fhajad? Fhajad?" Navin shouted in his mind before turning as he heard a crack of glass. He whirled to see a guardsman wielding a pistol, pointed straight at him. His eyes had a violet tint to them, a glow that spoke of an external compulsion.

"Geass" Navin hissed. He willed the Geass nullifier in his bionic eyes to activate, the burst of electromagnetic energy extending out in a sphere that touched the man's mind, the tint of violet vanishing from his eyes, the glazed look disappearing as a look of realisation and horror overcame him. The Guardsman turned to look at Navin. His rank epaulets on his shoulder told Navin he was a subaltern, a 2nd Lieutenant Hajinder.

"You. What the hell's going on?" Navin spoke as he closed with the man. The man seemed shell shocked but lucid before he turned to look back down the corridor. His expression was glazed, confused and puzzled. Not the typical look of a guardsman.

"Hajinder. My name is Navin. Look at me. Focus on me" Navin said as he grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him firmly, attempting to get his attention. The man turned and looked at him before he began to whisper, a babble of words flowing from him.

"Blood everywhere. The stun rounds ran out....we....used live rounds. Killed them all. Women. Children. All of them. Pregnant women. They all charged us. Used their bodies as shield. Grenades. Pistols. They didn't care....then...then...they"

A haunted look came to the man's face as he screamed. The violet tint came back to his eyes as he turned and rammed his head into the concrete, fracturing his skull before he tore himself free from Navin and drew his pistol. He aimed it at Navin and fired a burst his way before slamming it into his mouth and pressing the trigger.

Navin dodged around the subsonic rounds. Travelling at trans-sonic speeds, the rounds flew by him in slow motion as he moved, barely evading them with centimetres to spare. Assault rifle rounds would have been another matter entirely at this range. Navin's motor coordination and reflexes were superhuman, enough to evade pistol rounds but not enough to evade rifle rounds which travelled at more than three times the speed of sound. He ducked behind the wall before the gunshot and the silence that followed told him of what had just occurred.

He went and knelt by the man's corpse, pulling the pistol from his still warm grip, trying to ignore the grisly mess of grey matter, blood and bone chips that lay embedded in the wall or splattered around the floor.

Taking the pistol, he proceeded more cautiously, using the zoom function and thermal imaging of his eyes to look ahead of him. He zoomed in on the stairwell two hundred metres ahead of him as he looked up, noticing the contingent of people that stood there, visible through the imaging matrix.

At both ends of the stairwell were hastily erected emplacements manned by a mix of police and guardsmen. The policemen looked particularly spooked compared to the mean look the guardsmen affected

"Come to the entryway. The password is 'Requiem'" Fhajad spoke in his mind. Navin lacked any form whatsoever of psychic ability, latent or otherwise. But his brother had it in spades. Another thing that distanced him and Fhajad aside from their different mothers.

He opened the door with his foot. Before he could say the word he found himself assaulted with a rapid series of chain punches before he found himself landing facefirst on the floor, a knee pressed to the small of his back.

"No sudden moves. No sudden words. Keep your eyes on the floor. You're -" came a dangerous voice before another one cut in. The pressure on his back was relieved and the soldier helped him up.

"I'm expecting him. At ease Guardsman" came a firm voice. Navin looked up to see Miguel looking down at him as the guardsman released him. Navin stood up and rolled his shoulder, loosening it up after the sudden lock it'd been caught in.

"Password?"

"Requiem. But you already knew that Uncle Mig" said Navin. Miguel gave a tired smile before beckoning to him. His formal shirt was torn in several places and blackened with soot, with minor cuts along the length of his chin.

"Your brother needs you. I'll leave you to talk to him. Now go. I'll deal with this mess. We need to evacuate Nunnally and the rest out of here. The guardsmen down in the basement are securing a route. The psychic weapons...". Miguel shook his head. This was something he hadn't expected at all.

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Nunnally leaned against the wall, holding a pistol. She'd been in the gym when the attack occurred. Her bodyguards had quickly sequestered her away and now she was here, sweating, dirty and wielding a pistol that she kept by her side. It was only now she realised Miguel's foresight in forcing her to learn point shooting, advanced pistol handling and getting advanced training in Krav Maga.

Fhajad leaned heavily against the wall, breathing heavily as a stream of blood dripped from his eyes, ears and nose. Hera sat in a corner, oddly serene despite everything as she fingered a small crystal around her neck. Nunnally vaguely remembered that her father Amshel had given it to her on her wedding day. Sophia stood next to Fhajad, worriedly rubbing his back but unable to do anything.

An individual who bore a resemblance to Fhajad made his way through the screen of Kshatriya's that protected them and walked over to Fhajad, an aloof yet uncertain attitude in his bearing. The Kshatriya's were all his personal guard, Fhajad's silencers and enforcers, all cousins of his. All powerful psychics in their own right, low-level Tier 3's or 4's as measured by the Chawla-Kurzweil Psychic Index, specialising in prescience as was the talent of their lineage.

Nunnally had seen the reports on this elite unit of soldiers, pilots whose skill in combat matched and in many cases had been shown to exceed those of the Knights of the Rounds. Their general combat skill was seen to match that of the late Bismarck Waldstein, whose only known loss in direct combat was to Fhajad Sahar and his death at the hands of Suzaku Kururugi.

"Odd isn't it, how we're supposed to discuss strategic arms limitations? I'd always wondered why we tabled a topic about persons of mass destruction" Nunnally commented. Fhajad nodded but remained knelt over, fighting off the immense amount of pain.

All of Nunnally's entourage had turned their psychic nullifiers to their highest setting, preventing any access to their minds, including Hera. The tension was thick in the room. Out of nowhere, seemingly innocent people who had no known terrorist background or even any remote connections to them had started to act violently, driven to kill all in their path as if under the compulsion of Geass.

Her own bodyguards, personally vetted by her security chief, whose families had served Britannia loyally for years, had abruptly tried to kill her. It was only through the swift reaction of Fhajad that they'd managed to stave off the worst effects of whatever was happening.

Still, Nunnally wasn't taking any chances, nor was her entourage. Miguel had his own men, even his own security chief Carlos, turning their nullifiers to the full range. Geass and psychic compulsion worked on the same basis of altering psychic patterns within the mind, though psi was more dangerous in that it could be contagious, even spreading in the form of a mental virus. A contagion passed on by proximity alone.

Neither did she fancy a psychic poking around in her mind. The knowledge of the Sahar family's unique gifts was something only she, Sophia, Schneizel and other senior leaders of Britannia and the UFN were privy to. Another reason for the tension with India that had arisen since their meteoric ascent to rulership.

She suddenly felt a rustle of activity pass through the crowd. Miguel came up to her, kneeling by her side, face blackened with soot. Dried blood stained the patrician face, a gash on his forehead courtesy of a rogue Britannian agent inserted undercover as a caterer.

"Empress. We're evacuating you to the roof where a helicopter will evacuate you and your entourage. Fhajad has elected to stay here. Electronic communication has been scrambled and is being jammed throughout Chiba. Riots have erupted in the rest of the city. Tokyo is in total chaos. VX gas has been released into the subways. Bombs have been detonated through the city. All subway stations have been bombed. The police force is in total disarray. We're getting you out of here. I'll be staying."

"But Miguel, I-" Nunnally started before Miguel silenced her with a cutting gesture. "You're the Empress. This is an international incident. The Empire needs you in control. As it is the military already has a carrier group on standby. Mistress Hera...it seems that having the peace summit wasn't a very good idea after all."

Hera nodded, an ironic smile on her face. "Did you just say that you told me so?" she asked. Miguel nodded.

A Kshatriya came up to them, eyes flickering left and right. Alert yet fatigued, anyone could see the man was on edge. But his training held. A telepath used to a transparent world of thoughts around him, he was less accustomed to the oral communication of the blanks.

"The tower is in danger of collapse. All the foundation pillars have been destroyed except one. That is currently being guarded by a platoon of Singapore Guards led by a Master Sergeant Anwar Ramachandra. I've been told he'll probably hold out until hell freezes over but you'd like to leave before that Empress. So please proceed up the stairs."

Hera gracefully got up and went over to Nunnally, lending her arm for support. The effect of the crystal would persist for about two more days. Enough time to create enough of a mess that the world media would descend upon the chaos like vultures to a corpse.

"Soon. The dominos will fall very soon."

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Navin's attention shifted at the mention of Anwar's name and the movement of people up the stairwell. Sophia pulled his attention back to him by clutching his chin with her fingers.

"Listen to me. Will you do it?"

Navin stared blankly at his brother who gave a low moan of pain as he clutched his head, rocking himself as he knelt on the floor, unable to even stand. The brother who'd always mistreated him since the day of their father's death.

"I will. But it's not for my brother I'm doing this. Not for him. Not for you. Not for -"

"Oh shut up!" Sophia said with exasperation even as Nunnally motioned for her to follow. She gave a sidelong glance at her betrothed. She knew he'd be fine. He was the Black Tiger. But his wish was for her to live.

To carry the fraternal twins she held in her womb to safety. Heirs to the thrones of Britannia and the Indian Raj both. To stay wouldn't only be dangerous but selfish as well no matter how much she desired it.

"Your brother is shielding each and every one of us, even you!" she hissed, pulling him close even as she slipped him the key to the Knightmare Fhajad had made for his brother. "Even your little lover. Your precious Kallen Kozuki. He's with her right now, shielding her mind even as his own cousin shields her body."

"Even as those people out there suffer, Fhajad is with them. He's shielding us from whatever's making people go insane. He's the one holding up more than a million metric tons of skyscraper. What? You think a single foundation pillar matters? If that pillar goes Fhajad won't be able to stop the complex from collapsing in on itself. He's the one trying to suppress the madness from spreading, containing it to Chiba. Even as we speak he's trying to get communication with India. Srinagar's been hit by nuclear weapons. At least a hundred of his clan are dead."

Navin's eyes narrowed before opening, realisation seeping in. "How do you know that?"

"Simple. He told me. Fhajad's always with me. You think you were mistreated? He was making you strong, distancing you so assassins within his own family wouldn't kill you. His position is one of absolute power and absolute loneliness. Only I and a few understand him. Your brother has no friends. Only followers. Only family. So understand me when I ask you...become the Demon Thunder you once were. Become your brother's shield. Become his demon. Become. That's all."

She turned and left, leaving the key dangling in Navin's hand.

"And what if I don't?" he whispered, doubt already knawing at the anger in his core. The core he'd never let anyone enter. Not even Kallen. As he turned to leave, the voice within answered.

"Then people will die. You want to fight? To feel the glorious slaughter? The spirit of the dead leaving? I'm a part of you Navin. The persona you made to shield you from the horrors of war as a child. Like all the techniques Rania taught you to protect your mind. The compartmentalisation. The cultivation of such separate persona's. The one that pilots the Nightmare of War. The one that enjoys it all. Solet me free!"

Sophia watched Navin race down the stairs three at a time as he rushed towards where the Knightmare his brother had set aside for him was. A specialised close combat Knightmare, Rakshata had created a piece of art, if a machine of slaughter could be called one.

Fittingly, Sophia had asked Nunnally to name it and she felt Nunnally had surpassed her expectation. It was the first of its kind, a production model prototype. Iruel. The Angel of Terror.

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Anwar dragged the 2nd Lieutenant Crescas with him back into the confines of the side corridor, round after round slamming into the mob of attackers. Women, children and men of all ages and size threw themselves against the blast door using anything they could wield as weapons.

The corpses of those they'd killed were piled at least two metres high, taking up the entire height of the corridor and blocking the flow of people, making it even more confined and claustrophobic. His gaze passed over the dead eyes that stared back at him, their final moments of death ending with a smile plastered on their face.

There'd been no warning. The summit had been going well with loud but otherwise mostly peaceful protests against the usual issues of globalisation and cries for war crimes tribunals and reparations by Britannia, along with opposition to the policy of reconciliation followed by both the UFN and Britannia in seeking a workable peace. All of a sudden people had started to die as bombs exploded amongst the crowds and the police had spontaneously started firing on everyone.

Anwar hadn't believed it at first until he'd witnessed a massacre on the video feeds just before they'd been cut off. They'd attempted to contact police command but were unable to get anything before guardsmen had suddenly started to go insane, randomly shooting themselves in the head or firing on everyone around them.

Then the mobs began to break through as even the hotel staff began to attack them, forcing the Guards to barricade themselves inside the command centre. The command centre had quickly been cut off, an isolated island in a sea of violence.

In the end elements of the Guards had managed to link up with the Kshatriya's and VIPs who'd been hiding in an emergency stairwell in the east wing. While the greater part of the battalion had been deployed just outside of Chiba, two companies had been deployed directly within the security zone, Alpha and Bravo.

Alpha was all but annihilated aside from two platoons who'd decided to use lethal force and fought their way out of the convention complex via unarmed combat. The last words Anwar had received of his comrades from those two platoons were that they planned to link up with Battalion HQ before the radio net was reduced to static.

"Medic! Attend to him. Ok. Crescas is down. Padukone?"

"Encik?" the platoon sergeant asked his CSM, awaiting the command.

"Take charge of your men. I'll....what the fuck!" Anwar said as he turned to look at the blast door slowly heating up. Red spots of heat appeared as the door, made of three inches of hardened steel, began to run down in molten rivulets.

"Where the fuck did those fuckers get a fucking laser?" he asked in disbelief. Who the hell were these people? All over the nets all they repeated was the name De Dios. Will of God.

"I have no idea Encik" Padukone answered before Anwar gave him an irritated look.

"That was rhetorical. Get your men out of here. You got 21 men. 8 dead, another 3 injured, 2 in critical condition. Your PC is down for the count. Your medic's out of morphine and your guys are running out of ammo. Sergeant Tan and his section are going to help casevac (casualty evacuate) your injured. I'll need some volunteers to help me hold here. Just five men."

Padukone shook his head. "Encik. That's...suicide. We're out of ammo. We ran out of live ammo and stun rounds. We're...the men are scared shitless sir. I'm scared shitless."

Anwar glanced over the corpses strewn along the wall, mostly civilians, a few policemen, the corpses of his Guards.

A pregnant woman's dismembered corpse sat in gruesome pile in the centre, charred innards mixed with bone fragments, her face oddly serene in death. At her bosom was clutched a small toddler, now dead as well. She'd clutched a grenade and thrown herself against the line they'd formed, killing five of his men.

Anwar didn't display it, hiding his own worry beneath a facade of aggression and aloofness but he was terrified. Nothing like this had ever happened before. How could a normal man in the street suddenly become a violent lunatic? How could a dedicated policeman suddenly become a zealous terrorist?

His own family, his parents and siblings, all were housed in the base camp in Johore where there'd been reports of a bombing in the residential section. His wife and children, brought here on holiday just before the summit started had been at the airport where travellers had been taken hostage. But first he'd get through this.

He laid a hand on Padukon's shoulder and squeezed it briefly. He spoke softly and reassuringly to his subordinate. "Don't think about it. Look after your pack. Look after your men. Bring them home. No mercy. No remorse. No regret. We're Guardsmen. They were the enemy. They attacked. We defended ourselves. No more. No less."

"But the child -"

"No mercy. No remorse. No regret." Anwar gave a final squeeze, trying to reassure Padukone as he turned to face the door. They were soldiers. They held the line. No more. No less. They had no other choice.

A/N:For those unfamiliar with the terms, 'Encik" which is pronouched 'En-Check" is a term in the Malay language that is used to refer to senior non-commissioned and warrant officers within the military of Singapore. Given that every Singaporean man has to serve two years in the military, police or civil defence (fire fighters and paramedics) as conscripts, most Singaporean men have a background in these uniformed services.

The Singapore Guards is an actual unit and you can read about it on Wikipedia. It combines the roles of the US Marine and the US Army Rangers. They are basically elite shock troops and raiders. Where infantry hold the line and commando's work in enemy territory, Guardsmen work in the grey space in between, in the No Man's Land between hostile and allied forces, in the 'neutral' zone. Essentially, if commandos are in trouble, the Guardsmen rush in to save them.

Of course this story uses a fair bit of artistic license and ramps them up to something far beyond that. No, I'm not a Guardsman but I do know enough people from my army days and they're professionals working in the military worthy of respect. It's not a glamorous job, it's rather thankless and can be pretty shitty. Don't believe the ads. But someone needs to do it.

I served my time in the army and bring that background to writing my story. Up until now the story has been exposition with some action to draw attention but here's where the action starts. Thanks for sticking with me until now.

Any requests for explanations then just put it in a review.

A/N 2: A lot of technical details in here I know. So I apologise for that. It gets confusing but I'd like to give some basis for the technologies used in the design. Expect technical jargon for another chapter.