[*****]

NEW CITY

Prince Clovis was an upstanding man – he liked to think that very little shook him, that he was a mountain while everyone else around him was a mere hill. Having said that, The Ministry was a place that downright spooked him. "The Ministry" was really just a fancy, pretentious way to say "V.V.'s office", but god damn it if V.V.'s office wasn't a bone-chilling place, with its sinister purple walls, glowing Geass sigils, and enough reverb to make even the faintest whisper echo.

He despised living in New City in general, but The Ministry was the crème of the crop of all things spooked and shitty, at least in regards to the Geass Directorate.

Beats living in the Ghettos, however. Such filth.

V.V. had called him in for something, but the little midget was being awfully tight-lipped about it. He kept staring out in the window, arms folded behind his little back, as if daring Clovis to speak out of turn. Clovis was a Prince of Britannia, however – he knew better than that.

They engaged in mutual silent treatment for a minute or so, before V.V. finally spoke up, his childish ghost of a voice echoing throughout the room.

"I don't exactly understand why Mao would just disappear like he did."

Clovis stiffened, but said nothing.

"He's always been relatively loyal to the Directorate. For selfish reasons, of course, but regardless, he's been loyal."

You should have double-checked his resume.

"He was assigned to watch over you, Clovis."

"He didn't do a very good job of that, did he?" Clovis spoke up, his eye twitching. Weeks in New City had left him more than a little bit jumpy. He kept thinking that Rolo psychopath fellow was going to turn a corner and gore him with a toothbrush. Even if he was spirited away across the sea.

Where Mao is now. Looking for C.C… and hopefully getting revenge on Gottwald in my honor.

V.V. turned to look at Clovis, his hands hidden behind a white cape. "Did you have anything to do with his disappearance?"

It vaguely occurred to Clovis that what he said here would determine if he lived or died. So he decided to say nothing. Silence was the most powerful weapon he had at the moment, and knowing to keep his mouth shut had helped him get by in New City. Almost nothing went on in New City without the Directorate's knowledge.

Almost. As it turned out, the well-oiled machine that was the Directorate didn't exactly account for the most dangerous weapon of all: the human heart. Mao was a strange bodyguard, for sure; he always seemed to know exactly what Clovis was thinking and feeling at all times. It was disconcerting, and a bit frightening at first… but, luckily for Clovis, Mao had no filter whatsoever. He had a tendency to vocalize whatever thought popped into his albino head, no matter how shitty or chancy it might be.

Namely, he had a tendency to talk about how god-awful the Directorate was. Finally, Clovis felt like he had someone he could relate to in this hell-hole of midgets and teenage assassins and pre-pubescent test subjects. Because Mao could tell what was on Clovis' mind at all times, it meant that Clovis had no reason to lie or cover up the truth in his presence, which felt oddly freeing; it allowed Clovis to get some of the heavy shit he had swirling inside of him off his chest.

Mao also talked about C.C. a lot. Mao rarely asked questions about Clovis' experimentation on her – why ask when you already know the truth? – but he was more than happy to answer Clovis' own questions about C.C. He'd learned a lot from Mao, namely that C.C. had the power to give powers to other people, almost like a Genie. Clovis' suspicions that C.C. was truly immortal were also confirmed – Mao had seen her cheat death first-hand.

Eventually, Mao and Clovis were in cahoots together, having realized they were in the same boat. Mao seemed a little peeved about Clovis' capture and objectification of C.C., but when Clovis explained his plan, it seemed to appease Mao. At least, for the time being. A little emotional manipulation from Mao and blackmail from Clovis, and they had a team of soldiers and Directorate personnel that managed to nab a plane to the Tokyo Settlement, right underneath V.V's nose.

Of course V.V. knew Mao was gone; any commoner with half-a-brain could have told you that. But V.V. had no proof whatsoever that Clovis was the perpetrator. All he had was speculation. The documents and check stubs for the plane had been burned, and the soldiers Clovis and Mao had twisted into compliance were too scared shitless to fess up about their involvement in the plot.

So there V.V. stood, silently gazing at Mao with that perpetual look of calm he always wore.

A tiny smile appeared on V.V.'s face. "Cat got your tongue, Clovis?"

You have no idea, do you, you sad bastard.

Clovis simply shrugged, his eyes focusing on a series of tall, metal doors behind V.V.'s throne. "Why would I deliberately organize the escape of someone I barely know about when I could have simply escaped myself?"

I did that because I'd rather Mao die than me, but still.

"I suppose you have a point," V.V. said, his tone frustratingly indecipherable. "What a shame. Mao was useful to us. I suppose we'll have to track him down so he doesn't give away any Directorate secrets. And, anybody involved with him in his plot will have to be taken down, as well."

Smooth. But you're not as slick as you think you are. Clovis' eyes wandered back to the metal doors. Where the hell do those doors lead?

"The data you provided us about C.C. is garbage, by the way," V.V. abruptly mentioned, listlessly waving his hand. "Your reports with General Bartley basically told us things we already knew beforehand. So we scrapped them. I hope that doesn't bother you too much."

"Months of careful research and experiment after experiment just thrown in the bin?" Clovis affably shrugged. "Doesn't even bother me in the slightest."

V.V. laughed humorlessly. "That's a quick wit you've got there, Clovis."

"Mm."

"It could get you killed one of these days."

Clovis clenched and unclenched his fists, his eyes drifting back to the doors once again. "Duly noted."

V.V. searched his face for a moment, then turned around, walking back to his throne. "Anyway, I have a meeting about now. Go along now – don't let the door hit you on the way out."

The urge to put fifty bullet holes into this presumptuous, supercilious little asswipe was so tempting, so tangible—

"Fine," Clovis spat. "Is there anything you wish me to do?"

"Hm. Go oversee development of the serum for the new test subjects. Make sure everyone in the lab is on board with it."

Clovis turned to walk out of the room, eager to get out of V.V.'s presence, but there was one more question eating at his mind.

"Those big doors behind your throne," Clovis spoke up, turning to look at V.V. as he sat down. "Where do they lead?"

"Oh. Those?" V.V. asked, jutting a thumb behind him. "They lead to the royal vault down here. Nothing that concerns you, I can assure you. Anyway. Bye."

Clovis nodded.

He had been living without the pleasures that came with being Britannian royalty for what felt like years. He had been forced to kiss the ass of an imperial barely half his size that looked half his age, all because this imperial just so happened to be the brother of the Emperor. He'd been coerced and pressurized into doing the royal equivalent of janitorial duties in New City, having been looked down upon by almost everyone as useless or unimportant. The only reason he was still breathing was because V.V. didn't want to risk him leaking Intel about the Directorate. If V.V. really had his way, Clovis would be a smoldering pile of stab wounds.

He'd been living without for the longest time. But he would rise above his situation. When he saw his brothers and sisters all surpass him and find glory, status, and honor, he didn't just wait by the sidelines, twiddling his thumbs and hoping to inherit the throne by playing things safe. Playing things safe wasn't the Britannian way of doing things. He didn't inherit his title of Viceroy, he'd fucking earned it, and to see that title be taken away by a turquoise-haired, elitist upstart was more than he could handle.

But he would rise above his situation. Justice would be dealt out accordingly. Jeremiah would be taken care of. V.V. would be taken care of. Hell, even the Emperor would be taken care of, for turning a blind eye to Clovis' suffering.

All in good time. He would just have to wait for it.

But in the meantime, he was going to figure out what the hell was in that vault.