====Lelouch====

The sound of sirens had quieted down, but Lelouch knew better than to assume that meant they had given up the search for him. What it probably meant was that they were shifting to a more subtle search pattern. Plain clothes officers. Out among the people watching for oddities. Which meant that he had to stay out of sight for as long as possible. Duck into places where people wouldn't be able to see him at all so he could recover his strength before heading on out into the streets while his unconscious mind put together a plan.

The final step of that plan: Kill Jonathan Joestar. Everything else up to that point was still a work in progress. Still, Lelouch knew what one vital step would have to be. He could hardly kill the man from half a continent away - at least not with the resources at his disposal. He had to get closer. He had to get to Paris, from Rome. Which meant...

"A train station." A grin fell upon his face as he leaned back against a wall. Now, obviously he did not have any money for a train ticket. Nor did he have any of the documentation that one might need to cross borders within Europia United. But this should not be an issue. He might not be an athletic type by any means but even he could jump a turnstile.

Although for some reason he didn't understand he was hesitating to make the jump.

"Hey, Ranolfo! Keep up the pace!" an Italian youth yelled while dashing towards the station entrance. Lelouch watched as that youth did the very same thing that Lelouch himself planned to do. He put his hands upon the sides of the turnstile and vaulted over.

But then a loud alarm broke out over the station, and a spotlight fell upon that youth. Within moments he was seized by station guards, who seized his arm and hauled him aside. Using his Stand Lelouch took a better look at the device. He might not understand the specifics of how it worked, but he could recognise... a pressure sensitive contraption hidden inside the turnstile counters!

"Paolo!" his friend cried out. "You fool! You were always the type to be in too much of a hurry!"

"They're getting really strict with these fines these days," he heard a passerby gossiping with another. "When did they install this new system anyway?"

"Only just yesterday," the other civilian said. "They didn't make a big deal of it, but it does seem a little excessive. Surely the fines can't pay for something like this..."

Yesterday, did she say? How fortuitous. How coincidental. What had he thought before, that they would start implementing more subtle search patterns? To think they would cut him off so effectively under the pretense of dealing with regular petty criminals.

He could work out ways around that system easily enough if he thought about it for a few minutes. However... that precluded the possibility that they had other unseen traps set up for him. Which made leaving a priority. An immediate top priority.

"I can't go on like this," Lelouch wheezed nine minutes later, hands on his knees. He slumped back against a statue to catch his breath. "I must both shake my pursuers and seek a path to Paris, who doubtless expect me to go there. And I must do so alone!"

He kicked the ground in frustration and let loose a growl of anguish and frustration. For all that he kept his thoughts and feelings locked away, he worked better when commanding others. Here? Behind enemy territory? He had no allies. He had no friends. He could not use his position as a Prince to command authority. He could not rely upon the resentment of downtrodden Japanese nor their desperate yearning for freedom. It was impossible for him.

With little else to do Lelouch turned to look at the statue he was leaning against. It was an old statue, well worn by the age and the elements. It showed a man in ancient Roman armour, a cloak slung over his shoulder. Though this looked ridiculous to Lelouch's eyes, he could plainly see that there was something kingly about this man and his bearing.

He looked down at the pedestal. It had writing on it in Latin. "C IVLIO CAESARI, DICT PERPETVO." No, those Vs should be Us from what he recalled of Latin. In which case, what he was looking at was -

"I see," Lelouch said, finally catching his breath. "It is impossible for Lelouch to struggle against this fate. Completely impossible." He pulled himself up and dusted himself off, then found himself unconsciously copying the pose that the statue was in, raising his left hand as though holding a globe within it. "In which case, it will not be Lelouch that struggles against this false Democracy. If they seek to corner Lelouch, then he is but a shadow on the wind. Let them seek, for they cannot find someone who does not presently exist."

You know what they say; When in Rome...

Chapter 68 Pride and (Dis)Honour

====Suzaku====

Suzaku had reservations about this mission. He felt that 'investigating' an enemy city that was primarily inhabited by civilians without hard proof was a little twisted. No, very twisted. He'd seen firsthand from those other pilots what might happen if the wrong people were set loose and he did not care for it.

Even so, he knew that he had to be careful. Not all kinds of evil are as obvious as that Gloucester pilot. There is also the kind of evil that tells you that it's in everyone's best interests, that the ends justify the means. That doing one wrong thing in the name of righteousness could be tolerated. After everything he's seen involving the supernatural, Suzaku couldn't accept that. Evil was evil. No matter the reason. No matter the cause.

"I am disappointed, Suzaku Kururugi," the zombie said, lurking atop its plant pillar. Its cold dead eyes stared hard at his Knightmare, hard enough that Suzaku could swear that it could see him inside the cockpit. "I have heard much of your fighting ability and strong sense of right and wrong. On this basis, I have not yet been impressed."

Was he being lectured on ethics by an unliving zombie?! After his encounters with the Chinese Federation he knew full well what kind of evil these beings could inflict upon the unwary. At this point, if anything, he might well be protecting the people that lived here from the unknown threat lurking in their midst. "I haven't fired upon the city," Suzaku insisted. "The only target I've fired upon is a creature that feasts on human flesh."

"A creature that moved to protect the people of this city from those who have attacked it," the zombie continued. "Do you seek to defend those attackers?"

No. He couldn't defend what they had done. In fact, he had intended to file reports about their needlessly destructive actions during this mission, and had hoped that Sir Waldstein would back him up. He had come here because he had been ordered to come... and because he had hoped to ensure there was no needless loss of life. Had he read this situation incorrectly? Was this zombie actually a protector of the people in this city as he claimed? If so then Suzaku should leave now - but if the zombie was lying...

"I sense your hesitation," the zombie continued. "You understand that this mission, whatever it may be, is wrong. Miss Ashford would be sorely disappointed in you."

Milly? What did he say... About Milly? Why would this zombie talk about her so casually? There was only one reason that Suzaku could think of, no make that two reasons: The first is that they have already killed her, consumed her body. The second is that they are keeping her prisoner, perhaps even torturing her for information they can use... Or doing so to keep Nunnally in line with their desires.

Either way... Even if it wasn't one of those, even in the unlikely event that she was being treated well by those bloodthirsty monsters Suzaku had to know the answer. Right here, right now! That zombie knows, so he had to ask!

Lancelot drew both of its swords and rushed in to fight him: "What do you know about Milly? Where is she?!"

The sword swung down and struck against metal. The zombie had used its hair to grab a sword and parried Suzaku's attack with it.

"Impossible!" Lloyd protested. "Your sword should be super hot. As far as our readings can tell, that's a perfectly ordinary sword! How did he deflect it?"

"That's Bruford, no question of it," Cecile said. "A historic hero who fought for the honour of Mary Queen of Scots and even died in a vain attempt to save her life. Suzaku, this is no ordinary zombie."

"Ordinary zombie?" Suzaku grunted, pulling back and trying again with his other sword. "Have we really got to the point where a Stand using zombie could be called ordinary?"

"This is the sword of luck granted to me as a gift by my Queen Mary herself," Bruford said, as if that explained anything. "It has lain dormant for centuries, filling up with resentment and hatred towards those who bear Elizabeth's soul." Incredible! Lancelot was being pushed back by his strength. Little by little, this zombie was gaining the edge! "Its edge has not dulled. It bears no sign of rust or decay. Do you truly believe that you can cut it so easily?!"

Until now the zombie's face had stayed calm and controlled. You could easily mistake him for a human being, if you were to ignore his hair moving of its own volition. At that moment, though? The mask slipped away. The beast within made itself known. His fangs grew out, his skin shrivelled back around his eyes and cheeks, the point of his chin grew as sharp as his sword. Were there any doubt in Suzaku's mind about what this Bruford was, it was gone at the sight of this face.

And his concern for Milly's safety rose ever higher.

"You didn't answer my question," Suzaku said. He fired both of Lancelot's hip mounted slash harkens, squarely aimed at Bruford. "Where is Milly?! I swear, if you've hurt her -"

"We have not harmed her body," Bruford insisted. "But her soul screams in pain over what she has learned."

The plants underneath the zombie suddenly vanished, and it dropped out of the air allowing the jet powered slash harkens to sail overhead. Then the zombie's hair reached up, grabbing hold of the cables allowing it to swing closer towards Suzaku.

"Your anger gets the better of you, Sir Kururugi!" Bruford continued, leaping towards Suzaku with his sword overhead. "Calm your mind before you enter battle, or you invite your enemy past your defenses!"

"Believe me, Sir Bruford! I have not yet begun to get angry!" Suzaku yelled. He switched on Lancelot's Blaze Luminous, which should have caused the zombie to crash and destroy itself up against the forcefield.

But at the moment of impact Bruford summoned out his Stand yet again. It took the impact and, to Suzaku's amazement, seemed to drain away the forcefield and at the same time causing those plants to grow even bigger!

"Did you think my Danse Macabre would be so easy to fool?" Bruford asked. The plants writhed around him, covered in sharp pointy thorns. "This borrowed Stand, Thorn in My Side, make this fight a more honourable match than it would be otherwise."

"Maybe," Suzaku said. "But I've fought plenty of Stands by now. Do you know the first rule of fighting a Stand?" He then pulled in Lancelot's slash harkens, hitting the plant Stand from behind. This brought Bruford in close enough that Lancelot could deliver a crushing spin kick to the zombie, sending him flying back. "You figure out what it does! Lloyd, Miss Cecile!"

" It's fascinating, it absorbs certain energies and grows larger depending on how much it absorbs," Lloyd explained with his usual enthusiasm.

"It has roots growing into the user. It must be able to suck out their life force to feed itself. Which would explain why the UV lights didn't do anything: The undead die from sunlight exposure because their bodies are too efficient at absorbing that kind of energy. It causes their cells to explode."

"Very good, Miss Cecile! He's 'transferring' that normally toxic energy directly into his Stand! My, my! What a fortunate find for a zombie. But did you also notice that it didn't absorb the kinetic energy of Suzaku's attacks? The plants stayed the same size when he struck it just now."

Ever since the supernatural had appeared, he'd been hearing talk of a power that could match up to it. This was it. Teamwork. When people work together, openly and honestly, they could overcome any challenge. Suzaku believed in that with all his heart. Lloyd and Miss Cecile had done their part, now it was up to him to put an end to this.

"You wanted to see my pluck?" Suzaku asked. "Alright then. Now that I have an idea of what I'm up against... I'll force you to tell me the answer to my question. Where. Is. Milly?"

====Bismarck====

The earliest memory that Bismarck Waldstein had was a boy, a year or two older than him who towered over young Bismarck though he could not recall the location of their meeting nor the boy's name or relationship to him. What he did remember was the conversation the two of them had.

"It looks like the maid is in the other room, Bismarck!" the older boy had said with a menacing tone. "Why don't you pour me some water? After all, we are such close friends. Aren't we?"

The boy had then put his hand upon Bismarck's shoulder. Without a word, he pushed that arm aside, then stuck out his elbow into the other boy's chest. Hard. Then, at the moment he heard the older boy gasp he lifted the elbow as high as he could reach it so that the breath was forced out of his lungs.

It was not that he had meant to do this. It was simply that he had done it. Only after the fact did he feel guilty, and went off to pour that boy a drink of water.

A similar tale could be told when he was a teenager. His father pressured him into joining a wrestling club at school. A good way to build up his stamina, a fine sport that would help develop his athletic future!

On the very first day, he pinned the teacher four times. The next day he went, he had been made captain of the club. The only person that argued with the decision was Bismarck himself.

The point that must be made is this: Bismarck Waldstein was one of the most naturally gifted fighters walking the Earth - and he hated fighting. No, hate does not properly express it. He's bored by it. No, that's still not quite right. He... dislikes it. Yes. That is the right way to express it. Bismarck dislikes fighting. The one talent that he was supreme at, and he did not find any enjoyment in it.

Make no mistake: He would fight. He would gladly fight if ordered to by his Majesty, or by circumstance. However! He completely lacked the relish that Luciano Bradley had for it, the appreciation for heroics that Dorothea Ernst had, and he had no real drive for a challenge like Gino Weinberg. Bismarck fought to the fullest every time because it was his duty. His responsibility. As such, he gave every fight in front of him his fullest attention. Thus creating a fighter with no psychological weaknesses: The strongest sword in the Empire.

Though you may see him fighting with a smile on his face, be not deceived: This was not a man enjoying the battle. This was a man who was enjoying his duty.

"You've trapped my Knightmare's neck in a chain," Bismarck noted. Here and now, he was in Edinburgh. Following his duty and his responsibility with care as he faced down a truly legendary enemy. Tarkus! Raised as a zombie and granted a Stand with yet unknown abilities. "Don't tell me, you intend to challenge Galahad to your speciality?"

"Hrmmm... hrmmm... hrmm..." Tarkus was laughing. It sounded like he'd forgotten how to. "So you know that much about me? Hsss... This should be fun. It's a rare thing for me to face an enemy that is bigger than me."

"You underestimate the sheer power of Galahad," Bismarck said. "It is bigger, and it is certainly stronger. Even a zombie can't hope to compare."

To demonstrate the point he hauled the 'chain'. Though really it was more of a large thorny vine. Tarkus was hauled off his feet in an instant, easily allowing Bismarck to swing him around like a ragdoll. The sheer size and strength difference could not be more apparent.

However... He stopped after a moment. Bismarck noticed quickly that this attack was having no effect on Tarkus at all. Whatever building he was bounced into, whatever section of pavement he was flung against the result was the same every time: The zombie was landing on the flat of his feet.

"Ksss! This strength is borrowed by machine! It is not your own!" Tarkus yelled. He gripped the 'chain' and looped it around his neck. Then he leaped forward to face Galahad head on. The fool! The number of people who had done this in a life or death situation and lived to talk about it was none! For even if they dodged Excalibur, then Galahad's raw strength would turn them into mince!

Tarkus held out his hand, and an axe appeared within it. The very image of a berserker warrior. So very much so that his next move might have caught others off guard but not the Knight of One. The handle of that axe suddenly extended like a sharp spear, aimed squarely for Galahad's torso. A brilliant misdirection but not nearly good enough to get past Excalibur.

"I don't have the time to play with you," Bismarck said. Excalibur swung down, struck the side of this Stand generated spear and then neatly sliced through it. "Begone, relic of the distant past!"

"Wrryyyyyyyyy!" Tarkus hissed like the wild animal that a zombie truly was, writhing around as a deep looking cut appeared across his chest from sympathy with his Stand. If he were human, such a blow would have been mortal. As he wasn't Bismarck immediately went in for the kill - "H-hell... Heaven Snake Kill!"

What was that?! Bismarck felt a tremendous force strike Galahad from underneath. The vine-chain! When had that looped around him like this? Where others might panic, Bismarck remained calm and replayed the fight in his mind. Those movements from before. Wild flailing about from his attack? That was nothing of the sort! Nor was that attack with the axe handle/spear anything other than a misdirection within another misdirection.

"The history books said that you were an expert in the chain-neck deathmatch," Bismarck said, wincing as he felt the crunch of metal across Galahad's middle. "I always assumed it was your size and strength that dominated all forty eight of your enemies."

"It was my skill with the chain that prevailed," Tarkus added while falling past Galahad, landing on the ground. "Call it a natural talent, from an unnatural being. I was born to violence. An elite at slaughter through tremendous force!"

"You think this chain will restrain Galahad?" Bismarck asked.

"No," Tarkus said, tugging on the chain and making a dagger form in his other hand. "I think this chain will crush Galahad! I'll drag you down to Earth and cut you in two!"

Bismarck initially tried to pull Galahad up. The sheer weight and strength difference should have hauld Tarkus into the air. However, the Knight stayed firmly in place on the ground and the vines pulled into Galahad a little more tightly. At this moment in time he felt as though he was trying to retrieve something from his pet dog's mouth that it had mistaken for a toy.

In a situation like that the worst thing you can do is try to fight the dog to retrieve the item. The smarter approach is to pretend that you don't want it, and soon enough neither shall the dog. For that reason Bismarck brought Galahad low, down to ground level.

And this change in perspective allowed him to see that his decision had been correct to descend. From this lower altitude he could see cracks in the pavement beneath Tarkus. Minute cracks that he was certain had not been there before. When considering the nature of his enemy's Stand ability, the reason became obvious and chilling.

"Roots!" Bismarck roared, accelerating Galahad's descent until it landed feet first on the pavement, cracking it, creating a crater and revealing a wide network of roots contained within. "When I had pulled Galahad up I was not fighting Tarkus's strength. It was a tug of war with the city of Edinburgh itself!"

While he spoke Bismarck compelled his mighty Knightmare closer to his zombie foe, who was being careful with the chain to ensure it didn't have any slack. That was fine. Galahad let go of Excalibur, letting it fall in Tarkus' path. The zombie twisted away to dodge the blade. Tarkus then thrust out his hand, sending a spear into Galahad's shoulder that pierced cleanly through to the other side.

"Without your sword, you are no match for Kissed By a Rose," Tarkus warned.

"Oh? But I am not without my sword," Bismarck replied.

And then Galahad whirled around, wrapping Excalibur up in the chain. While Galahad's arms were bound its feet were not, so it kicked the blade hard on the handle - snapping clean through the chain in a crushing blow.

"Keeerrrrreeeeee!" Tarkus wailed, his body flailing forwards. His sympathy with this Stand caused a massive cut down his arm, to the point it was barely hanging on by a thread. He landed behind Galahad in the crater that had just then been formed.

"Astonishing," Bismarck mused, stepping back up to Excalibur to retrieve it. "To think that a foe without a Knightmare might last this long against Galahad. I must confess: Our level of skill is equal, Tarkus. If I were to fight you as an ordinary human, it would be a closer contest than either of us might enjoy... but even so, my Knightmare's raw strength and power is too much for your Stand to match up to."

A deep and rumbling voice spoke then. "Circuits," it said. "Gadgets. Devices. Knightmares. I understand not these things. They were beyond the imaginings of my time."

"Not down yet?" Bismarck asked. "You should know when you're beaten."

"Do you know how this Stand functions?" Tarkus asked, still unseen. Where was he? This was the problem with fighting undead. You couldn't track them by heat. You had to go by motion... and trying that in a city was a fool's errand at best. "It changes shape according to my will. It can create anything I imagine, so long as the total mass I create at a given time does not exceed my own."

The ground underneath Galahad began to shake, and so Bismarck flew off up into the sky. Tarkus jumped out, through the pavement. There were rats in his mouth and his wounds were fully healed. The zombie swallowed, and smiled menacingly at Bismarck.

"As you may have noticed," Tarkus continued. Vines began to appear. Not in his hand, but rather around them. And his arms. And his legs. And his head and his torso... "I have a lot of weight to throw around!"

As soon as he realised what Tarkus was doing Bismarck moved in for the killshot. Aiming squarely at Tarkus' head, he brought Excalibur down with all of his Knightmare's strength. But this time - this one and only time - even that wasn't enough. A sword so strong that it could even cut through Stands without Gleipnir energy - and it was bounced off those vines harmlessly.

"After seeing this weapon called a 'Knightmare' in action, it's only natural to want to try it out!" Tarkus yelled. "Like a little child who sees a Knight walk through their town and plays pretend that he is one! What kind of master of slaughter would I be if I did not give it a try for myself?"

That's how it came to this. Bismarck stared at it in complete disbelief. He'd formed a Knightmare out of this Stand! No, make that body armour! The helmet was twisted and spiky, with three horn jutting out from the top and sides, with each spike adorned with a rose. The shoulders held protrusions that went so far out that Bismarck initially mistook them for folded bat wings and the gloves held razor sharp claws even as lilies bloomed up his arm. In point of fact, while his armour looked sharp and thorny overall it was also covered in all manner of flowers as if trying to offset the threatening appearance as much as possible.

Cue an axe that looked to be made of thistles and a shield that was shaped like a giant flower appearing in Tarkus's hands. The knight then squat down, aiming both axe and shield at Bismarck as though inviting him to come down and fight while that armour writhed and wriggled like a batch of hungry worms.

Knightmare or armour, the difference was academic at this point. This time around the Stand was too densely packed for him to effectively damage with Excalibur so easily. What was more if it could shapeshift then every single part of that armour was a potential danger.

Despite that... Despite that, the Knight of One was smiling to himself. What was this feeling? Was this... a joy in battle? Anticipation for the fight ahead, instead of the joy in fulfilling his own duties?

"I don't have much time to play with you, little child playing at being a Knight," Bismarck said. "But I can see that you will pursue us if I attempt to leave. For that reason, show it to me! Show me the strength and skill that allowed you to conquer the seventy seven rings! But I should warn you –"

The seal over Bismarck's left eye cracked. Funny. This power... there were only two people he'd ever met who might be worthy of struggling against it. That was what he had thought before today. To think that even that destiny could be rewritten.

The Geass symbol flared in his eyes, and the threads of the immediate future began to dance before his vision. Bismarck laughed, honestly and sincerely. This... this was going to be one for the history books! Tarkus, this was not your lucky day. You came from the past to defy the future? Well then... If that was the case then Bismarck Waldstein would defy your future!

====Gino====

It was supposed to be easy. Show your patriotism, follow orders. Britannian might is the only way to ensure peace for humankind. In light of the supernatural, it seemed even more obvious: Only the Holy Britannian Empire could develop the means to contain such threats as Stand users and the Undead.

But this... felt wrong. Which was strange. This was an enemy city. Europia United and all of its people were enemies of Britannia. The city was hiding an important military secret that could turn the tide of the war. So shouldn't he be focused on the mission?

There was something Suzaku had said earlier on which came back to him. While they were travelling in the submarine he had said this: "I hope that JOJO is not using the civilians of Europe as a shield for his research. Stand users and vampires have a tendency to do this."

"Looks to me like you didn't have anything to worry about..." Gino mused. The city wasn't defenceless per se, but it sure as hell had less of a military presence than some top secret research site ought to have. JOJO couldn't possibly believe that having no apparent presence would put Britannia off if they decided to attack the city; That's simply not how the Empire operates.

And the realisation of that fact made Gino feel... uneasy. Couldn't tell you why it did, but that was the end of it. He was giving serious consideration to asking Anya if they should return to the sub and get the hell out of here while the getting was good, they weren't gonna find anything here. Prince Schneizel's lead was obviously wrong, and they shouldn't waste their time or potentially their lives on a mission that couldn't succeed.

But that thought went out of the window when Tristan's factsphere noticed something coming in fast. Gino's battle instincts took the reigns, and he brought his speedy Knightmare higher up so he could assess what was going on. For the best as bullets quickly filled the air right where he had been lurking.

"You Britannians can't help yourselves, can you" the enemy admonished. A woman's voice. "You see a defenceless civilian population and you simply must slaughter them. Not this time. Not this time, Knight of Three!"

"Woah, miss! You caught me just as I was stepping out," Gino said. Let's see... He counted three enemies. The same model Monica captured and repurposed into her own. This unit could cause trouble for a mass produced Knightmare, so he knew better than to underestimate it. Especially when he didn't know what the pilot was capable of. "My buddies and I got lost. I told Anya we shouldn't have taken that left turn at Albuquerque, but she would not listen."

"You dare make light of your atrocity?!" The three Knightmares moved in, surrounding Tristan. Their tonfas gripped tightly in their hands. Gino responded by pulling out Tristan's twin polearms from inside its wings and rushing forward to take out the one coming in from the left.

"Huh? Atrocity?" Gino asked. He thrust out the polearm, aiming for the cockpit but then quickly veered away when another Alexander tried to tag him from behind. "Until right now I haven't fired a shot. And I only did that in self defence. Are you really the sort that's got to make up a reason to pick a fight with an enemy?"

"Is your Empire the sort to make up reasons to kill innocent people?" the pilot harshly asked. The Alexander fixed its rifles to the side of the cockpit and aimed them at Tristan. "To kill my family?!"

"Sorry Miss, never met your family!" Gino protested. "I don't have the first clue what you're talking about."

"Ignorance of your Empire's sins is no excuse."

Yeah, whatever you say. The Alexanders closed in on all sides, prompting Gino to use his polearms to create a little distance. This model of Knightmare was at its most effective up close and personal. Its long range capabilities were pretty limited, all truth told. So far as he knew they only had rifles while Tristan's options were a bit more varied. His Knightmare made good use of its agility, whirling around with an MVS polearm in each hand,making damned sure none of the Alexanders got close enough to pull something while he backed off into a position where he could use his hadron cannon effectively.

But what he didn't expect was for two of the Alexanders to use their tonfas to block his polearms while the third dove in to take advantage of his sudden opening. Though this sudden burst of impressive teamwork surprised him initially Gino was an experienced and talented Knightmare pilot, so his instincts kicked in at that moment. He used Tristan's foot to kick off the approaching Alexander and rapidly rose in the air to create some distance.

"Some teamwork," Gino groused. The Alexanders were still lower down than him for the time being. That suited him fine, but with that formation he had the impression they'd attack the second he showed the slightest sign of vulnerability. "Well, if you're gonna triple team me it's time to even the odds a little."

Almost as soon as he activated his power, Gino turned green and retched. In all his career he'd never been motion sick. His constitution had been too tough for something like that. But right then, at the moment he activated his power to see through the eyes of others to see what those other pilots were seeing, Gino had felt overwhelming nausea. The kind of nausea that would have left any layman emptying his guts at once.

"You're wide open!" his enemy taunted.

"You're projecting your intent to attack!" Gino replied, pulling Tristan away. His hands were still shaking from the nausea, his mind still reeling in search of an explanation. Perhaps it was because of these reasons that a certain object struck Tristan from behind. An object that was so small a threat that the factsphere barely even registered it, and Gino didn't pay it any mind. But he should have. Otherwise, he might have figured out sooner why...

"Huh? What the heck are those?" Gino yelled, attaching the polearms together so he could better defend himself. There were five red rhombuses surrounding Tristan, and not a single one of them was giving him a good feeling. "Don't tell me, an enemy Stand?"

His answer was sudden and vicious. All five of them flew into Tristan, each cutting into its armour precisely once and then vanishing as if it hadn't been there at all. Gino winced. He did not need this on top of everything else.

Normally right now his instincts as a pilot would be to stop going on the defensive, and switch to the offensive instead. Take out one of those Alexanders right away, relying on his instincts to get the job done. That would make taking out the other two easier. Regardless of their teamwork, those Knightmares weren't up to Tristan's specs or Gino's skills as a pilot.

But throw an unknown Stand into things, and that makes this fight a lot more complicated.

"What's the matter?" his enemy taunted. "Is that all a fabled Knight of the Round capable of? Flying around in circles without even trying to attack?"

Gino had fought in many Knightmare battles in his career so far. He'd been a natural. From the moment he'd sat down inside of a cockpit, everyone said the same thing. A genius pilot. A future contender for the Knight of One - after he had a little more experience under his belt of course. A Stand duel on the other hand... That was another matter entirely. He'd only been in one Stand fight so far, and Kallen Kozuki had made a fool out of him. For the first time in his career, Gino Weinberg had been toyed with by a superior enemy.

Had that affected him? Had it rattled him? A little bit. It meant that Gino was facing another threat that he had never encountered before on the battlefield: Doubting his ability to win. For a fight he wasn't even sure was worth fighting in the first place. On that basis, the best thing for him to do right now would be to make a tactical retreat. Chalk this up to experience, learn from it and improve for their next encounter. He wouldn't accomplish anything by winning this fight, so why bother fighting in the first place?

"Screw that!" Gino yelled, bringing Tristan around. "If I run now, I'll lead a dangerous Stand user with an unknown power to our escape route. So either I win... or I give the others a chance to get away. Either way it's my win!"

He saw a chance for his counterattack to begin on noticing the position the three Alexanders were in. They were in a row beneath him, with buildings on either side. Hovering a little above the ground with trees behind them. Gino's instincts as a Knightmare pilot immediately noticed that kind of position, and he had no problems at all in taking advantage of it.

To enact his plan all he had to do was fire both of Tristan's slash harkens at the Alexanders on the side. The distance was far enough that they would be able to dodge, in theory. In practise? They couldn't go low enough to dodge the harkens. If they went forward they'd collide with the harkens cables. The buildings and trees kept them from dodging in those directions, and if they went to the middle they'd collide with one another.

In a Knightmare battle split second decisions like this were what separates the best in the world from the new recruits. Staying calm under pressure was vital to survival. Make the right decision in that stress filled moment, or it shall be the last decision you ever make. Which way would they go in the mere seconds they had to make the choice? The only correct answer was: Up! Where Gino would be aiming Tristan's polearms with a javelin throw!

That was Gino's thinking. That was the Knight of Three's experience on the battlefield speaking. However, the enemy did something else entirely: All three went into insect mode, dropping their Alexanders to all fours in mid-air. Then the two on either side rolled into the middle - completely dodging each other in the process.

"No way, that's not possible!" Gino gasped. "I've not even seen that level of coordination from professional rowing teams who have trained together for years!"

He could have easily dismissed their attack pattern from before as a practised routine. But not this. Dodging like that was a split second decision they couldn't have possibly known they would have had to make. Combine it with the unsettling way that this Knightmare model moved in insect mode - even while flying - and this fight was really starting to get under his skin.

"Is this really all that the best of Britannia is capable of?" the enemy pilot from before taunted. The Alexanders split apart again, circling around while firing at Tristan.

"Maybe he's not so used to one sided battles in his favour?" another pilot suggested.

"He probably got in based on his family rather than talent."

It was strange! With the way they were moving they should have hit each other by now, but whenever any of them crossed another's path they stopped really did come down to Tristan's speed keeping him alive right now - but Gino was making the mistake of paying attention only to the bullets, and so he completely missed another certain item hitting Tristan's leg.

Eight black shapes formed around Gino in that moment. Eight very distinctive black shapes. A stalk pointing downwards and three circular protrusions coming from it at different angles. Then as suddenly as they appeared the eight shapes flew hard into Tristan, each one battering the Knightmare exactly once - and then vanishing outright immediately after contact. Eight shapes that reminded Gino Weinberg of a three leafed clover.

Clubs! Those were like Clubs! The suit on a deck of playing cards! And those red things that cut Tristan before, they were shaped like Diamonds! Playing cards! What connection did they have with this Stand power?

"Something the matter, Knight of Three? Could it be that the weight of your Empire's sins have started to catch up with you?"

He was on the cusp of understanding, he could feel it in his bones. If he could grasp how this Stand worked and its connection to their coordination, he could defeat them. It was absolutely within his power to -

A bird flew by Tristan, seemingly oblivious to the danger. Normally Gino would have paid it no mind, but this time - this time his gaze followed it for a few seconds as it landed on the pavement. Then he saw them. The playing cards scattered across the ground. As he looked, the few face up cards began to vanish and then the bird's foot touched one of the face down cards as it hopped across in search of food.

Almost as soon as it did so two Spades shapes appeared in the air around it. The bird seemed absolutely oblivious to what was around it. Then, to Gino's amazement, the spades dug into the ground underneath the bird - and even though it tried to take off it was suddenly partially buried in the ground. It flapped its wings and struggled, but to no avail. It was trapped by the Stand effect!

"Cute trick," Gino said, feeling his confidence renewed. "The playing cards are the Stand. Which means - "

Tristan rushed forward, getting in close to the nearest Alexander without a trace of fear. Spears drawn, he brought the first down and was unsurprised to see it parried. He was even less surprised when a second attempted to jump him from behind - but that was why he had his second one ready.

"It activates on contact," Gino observed, making sure his speakers were off so he was only voicing his own thoughts in the midst of battle. "Those attachments to your Knightmare's wrists must fire out the cards, right? It didn't look like much of a weapon. But the trouble is projectiles that small and flimsy barely registered as a blip on a factsphere because they weren't a threat, but now that I understand how this enemy Stand works –"

Right on cue the Alexanders scattered. Gino whirled around, and sure enough there it was. The third Alexander making ready to fire those playing cards. Tristan stuck its spears together and greeted the flurry of playing cards with a barrier of rapidly spinning air.

As expected, here comes one of the Alexanders trying to attack him from the side. "Sorry pal! I think this suits you better."

A mighty swipe of his staff sent the cards flying off, where they struck the rapidly advancing Alexander... To absolutely no effect. By the time Gino realised that nothing was going to happen, it was already upon him and all his could do was thrust out his spear to greet the attack - only for Tristan's arms to get skewered by the concealed blade in the Alexander's wrists.

"Guess I got that wrong," Gino grunted. "The cards didn't do anything."

"Gino Weinberg, Knight of the Round," the enemy pilot said. "You're a talented Knightmare pilot. Anyone can see that. But... As you've already guessed, this is not a Knightmare battle. It's a Stand fight!"

Was she saying that the skills required for a Stand battle were that different from a Knightmare battle? True enough, Gino tended to rely on his instincts more than thinking ahead in a fight. He lived in the moment, pushed on towards his objective while making use of his talent.

"Dammit! This power I was given was meant to give me the edge against a Stand user! But when I tried to use it, I –"

...

The cards weren't disappearing. The face up cards on the pavement had vanished when he'd looked at them, but the cards that had just been fired? They weren't going away even after he'd seen what they were! There was Jack of Hearts, a Four of Clubs, an Ace of Hearts They weren't vanishing the same way that those other cards had!

Which meant that she had predicted he'd figure out how her Stand works and was using that to her advantage as well. Those cards weren't the Stand. They were regular playing cards!

"Now I get it," Gino grimly said to himself. "The skills you need in a Knightmare battle really are completely different to what you need in a Stand battle."

====Anya====

The fighting style of the Knight of Six was brutal and straightforward. It lacked finesse, it lacked style and it focused entirely on immediate destructive results. This is not to say that she was lacking in skill: It simply meant that she was as straightforward as it got. Mordred was not a fast Knightmare like Tristan. It was a tank. A highly destructive monster that showed up, let the enemy's hits bounce off Mordred's thick shell, blew up the enemy, and then went home.

Compare that to the specialist Knightmare of the European Union; The Alexander. An unusual Knightmare designed to do one thing very well. Move in close to the enemy and make them suffer. It was deceptively agile and dexterous with or without a flight enabler. In the hands of a skilled pilot it was capable of doing quite a lot of damage against regular Britannian troops.

The juxtaposition between these two models of Knightmare was what led to this unusual scene. Three Alexanders, retreating backwards on hands and feet, rifles mounted to the side of their cockpit firing up at the pursuing Mordred. Which was occasionally blasting out hadron cannon shots that the Alexanders were nimbly dodging in spite of Anya's rather superb aim.

"Do you know what the greatest joy in my life has been?" the woman heading up those Alexanders asked.

"I fail to see the relevance," Anya said.

"It was watching those two grow up."

Those two? Anya dismissed the question almost as soon as her mind conjured it. Irrelevant. A distraction. The three Alexanders ahead of her disappeared around a corner while Mordred continued its pursuit. There was a high possibility of a trap or an ambush lurking around that corner, but there's one simple fact about Anya Alstreim that made her rather unique among the Knights of the Round.

As far as she was concerned, common sense was a thing that happened to other people.

Mordred charged around that corner without a care- then stopped. There was no sign of the enemy. No IFF signals. They were at a four way junction. Back the way she had come, to the left - which is not the direction the enemy had turned - a road leading across a bridge with nowhere to hide... and a straight mile long street with several connecting streets along its length.

"Princes Street," Anya read from a sign on a nearby building. "Recorded. Tracking enemy and preparing interrogation."

Yes, interrogation. It was obvious. These pilots knew something about Europia United's technology. Since that was why they were here, it was obvious what the best thing for her to do was. Obliterate two of them and force the last to speak. On that basis, Mordred rose up and began to fly over the buildings while seeking out the hiding Alexanders.

Why had she not done so when rounding the corner? Why else? She was in hot pursuit and concerned that she might lose them. Now that she had lost them her mission parameters had changed to finding them again.

"When Miss Ashford initially assigned me to care for them, it had seemed to be yet another duty."

The enemy was talking to her. Anya elected to ignore it; The stealth tactics on display made their intention obvious. Psychological warfare combined with stealth. Up above these buildings there would be nowhere for them to hide. Sure enough, she soon caught sight of one of them, skulking through an alley on all fours. Within the same second she had seen it Mordred was already taking aim - but then Mordred's factsphere detected an incoming projectile moving in quickly.

"Threat detected and recorded," Anya calmly said. Flash appeared and skewered it before it could come anywhere near Mordred's shell. "Threat neutralised."

Or... was it? Black smoke quickly filled the air, obstructing Mordred's view. A smoke bomb? "How irritating," Anya said. Though her tone betrayed no emotion at all. She'd only said it because it was the kind of thing people were meant to say in that kind of situation. She'd actually kind of hoped she might feel irritated if she vocalised the emotion but - oh well. Mordred pushed out of the cloud of smoke moving further along the street.

How frustrating. If she went too high in the air then they'd have an even easier time avoiding her attacks. But if she stayed low they'd lose her behind buildings. For the time being she elected to stay low. It was obvious the enemy wanted her at as great a distance as possible.

"I thought the brother was a little bit snobby. An arrogant boy who shared kindness only with his sister," the enemy continued. "He contrasted completely with that sister, who would share kindness with everyone on Earth if she could."

"Discarded," Anya said to herself. She brought Mordred further along the street to locate the enemy. She could see how this fight would go already. Rushing off behind buildings before she could take aim at them. Jumping from seemingly thin air to try and hit her whenever she was about to open fire. Forcing her to raise Mordred's Blaze Luminous to block, delaying her shot and giving the enemy the opportunity to move on elsewhere, with the attacker retreating before she could grab hold of them. With Mordred or Flash.

"How pretty. I think." Anya said, finding herself over a large garden by the side of the street. No sign of the enemy, but this was the direction they had fled. They were probably using the plants and kiosks dotted around as hiding places. "This is an attempt to distract me," Anya said. "Attempt recorded. Memorised. Now erasing."

If the enemy sought to run away and hide, then she'd take more drastic action. There were no longer any buildings in the way. So Mordred cast its leg mounted launchers open and let out two dozen red streaks that scattered miniature proximity missiles into the park without having to bother about the buildings blocking the shots.

"The greatest joy in my life has been to watch those two grow up."

As could be expected the enemy made its appearance. The Alexanders were rushing along on all fours, elegantly moving around the missiles and leaping towards Mordred in a precision formation. So Mordred unleashed more missiles at them while carefully recording their movements.

"They didn't treat me like a servant. They treated me like a member of their family. Because that is the kind of people Lelouch and Nunnally are."

"Lelouch and Nunnally..." Anya repeated. "The vi Britannia children discovered hiding in Area Eleven." Irrelevant to the fight at hand. Although... For some reason her eye was leaking.

"That is my impression. What is yours?"

Anya's finger froze over the firing button for the hadron cannons. She was going to go with a wide burst to pin down their movements among the explosions, but that comment made her hesitate. Why? There was an implication behind the question: That Anya was supposed to know the Prince and Princess. Did she? No. She didn't remember meeting them.

But then... there was that one picture she'd found last week. A young boy holding a flower. Smiling at the camera. He had looked like a younger Lelouch. She remembered thinking this. Ah... Where was this leak coming from? It was making her uniform wet.

There was a mighty clang behind her, snapping Anya back into the present day. Flash had reflexively blocked an attack coming in from behind aimed squarely at Mordred's flight enabler. Though the Stand wasn't able to stop the attacks coming in from the front.

"Distracted," Anya repeated her earlier observation as the Alexanders retreated yet again. "I need to focus. This is not like me."

"How do you know what's like you?" the enemy asked. "When there are holes in your memory, how can you possibly know what you're like?"

Further distractions. The Alexanders struck the ground with smoke grenades, quickly enveloping themselves in the billowing cloud. White, the same colour as their Knightmares. Presumably they expected Mordred to keep its distance. If so, they clearly did not understand the pilot at all. Mordred descended towards the cloud with Blaze Luminous activated, while Flash flew into the fog with rapier extended, using its rapid speed to disperse the gaseous camouflage.

No sign of them. They weren't hiding in the fog. They'd vanished like ghosts. As if they weren't here to begin with... Was even her short term memory failing her now? Or were they hiding better than she was looking? To be safe Anya made her decision. She'd blast this garden into smithereens.

"One month ago, the night before you were sent to Area Eleven." an enemy pilot said. Where was their voice coming from? Mordred whirled around, there was no sign of the enemy. It was unsettling. Eerie. "You spoke to the Emperor at length. Do you remember what you talked about, Knight of Six?"

Meeting the Emperor? The night before she was sent to Area Eleven...? No. That was another night where there were holes in her experience, so it was possible that she had met his Majesty. However...

That's quite enough of that. Anya... I trained you better than this.

Bright lights filled her vision. A whooshing noise filled her ears, like she was speeding through a tunnel. A lightning bolt of pain shot across her synapses... and then were consigned to a place where memories could not reach.

"I trained you to keep the enemy out of your head," said the Knight of Six. "Then again, I'm quite intrigued as well. Miss Sayoko... What secrets do you know and how do you know them?"

Oh yes indeed. In body and in mind, this person was absolutely the Knight of Six through and through. The problem was? The body belonged to one Knight of Six. The mind belonged to another.

====Bruford=====

When first Sir Bruford had heard his Master talk of Suzaku Kururugi, this is the thought that crossed his mind: This man sounds like the ideal Knight. A fierce warrior, whose soul alit with conviction. A man who would give his life for his principles, while doing all that he could to punish evil. Tie him to Royalty, and you could not have a more ideal protector.

His first impression on meeting the lad in the flesh? Not good. Perhaps the standards had been raised too high, too quickly? Or perhaps the values of this modern world had changed even more than Sir Bruford had realised?

"Where. Is. Milly?"

Or... There was more to him than met the eye. Within that voice Bruford could hear a timbre of fiery determination. Concern - albeit misplaced - for the safety of his friend. For a moment Bruford considered telling him that she was safe within this city... But no. Suzaku Kururugi's greatest strengths were his kindness and his decency. If they spoke now it would put everything that their Master was working towards in jeopardy at a vital time.

On the other hand, Bruford could not find it within himself to deceive a noble soul such as he.

"She is safe," he said at last. "Which is better than can be said for you."

It was nighttime in Edinburgh. In his own time, you had to carry a torch to see in the dark. Lest muggers or wild animals leap upon you in the night, striking from the shadows and taking advantage of your poor eyesight. Even a mighty and mountainous warrior like Tarkus might find it hard to tackle a wolf fighting intelligently in the night.

Which is why Bruford was amazed to see the cities of the modern age light up at night. Like magic a series of poles came to life each night, illuminating the streets so that travellers may see their route and their surroundings. It was as irksome as it was astounding: The night's sky was oftentimes concealed by the radiance, blocking the view of the stars and making it harder for him to navigate. Even so! This light that offered protection to those who walked at night would now offer its protection to Bruford as well.

"Thorn in My Side!" he called his Stand name as Lancelot bore down on him. "To my aide! Surround my foolish enemy, and cut off his escape!"

He'd left part of his Stand resting underneath one of those bright lights, soaking up the energy and allowing him to make his Stand grow as much as he desired. This energy was much needed, if he was to create his web of death and madness. The streets above George Street were now covered in a web of vines made of his Stand!

Bruford's limbs went limp and immovable. The sole weakness of his Stand. The inability to control his muscles was a devastating blow - but for him who fought with his hair it was less a problem than it would be for others.

"If you think this web will make me forget about Milly, you've got another thing coming."

"Your noble soul's cries of concern for her safety are noted," Bruford admitted, sitting atop a vine. The zombie knight stared intensely at Lancelot. That gleaming white marvel of the modern age. "Show me the depths of your resolve so that I may judge you fairly."

The Knightmare charged forward, clasping its wrists together. Bruford steadied himself, and thought carefully: His Master had shown a fondness for this Japanese boy. The way he spoke, the things that he said. There was an unspoken kinship there as though the two would be friends if they had ever met. Yes, Bruford could easily see that. A similar kind of soul shone through Jonathan Joestar and Suzaku Kururugi, so it only made sense...

His mission had changed. Bruford swung down from the vine as Suzaku approached. Enough time for Suzaku to change course. Lancelot did not do so. It barrelled on, and a bright yellow light shone out above Bruford. It stuck out into a cone shape, spinning around so brightly it even left the zombie feeling blind while crawling along the web.

"Go-Golden Luminous... Didn't even leave a dent?" Suzaku gasped. "It fed off the energy of Blaze Luminous!"

Indeed it had. The vines were larger now, thicker and stronger than before. Nonetheless, Suzaku launched another attack on it. This time, his Knightmare attempting a spin kick against the vine. To no avail! All that happened was, the buildings that the vines were attached to cracked a little, due to the impact of the attack spreading out along the Stand.

Bruford had to give her thanks to young Holly Joestar - and of course Mister Pucci - for providing him with this Stand. He and Tarkus had acquired similar abilities to one another, but with important differences that suited them. For Tarkus, he could not use his Stand to create more mass than his own large body - but he could more freely control the Stand's movements once created. For Bruford, he could not move his muscles while his Stand was active, nor do anything to move the Stand once it was summoned - but he could also create an unlimited amount of extra material for his Stand so long as it continued to absorb energy.

Otherwise they were very simple in terms of power. Lancelot was a strong Knightmare, but he would only cut through these vines with Gleipnir energy which disturbed Stand images. All that kick had done was tear up Lancelot's leg.

"This web represents the deceit and wickedness of those who bear Elizabeth's soul!" Bruford explained. "That is to say, the Holy Britannian Empire. Your attacks won't break through it that easily - and the harder you try, the more you hurt yourself."

The next moment Bruford had to parry a pair of slash harkens aimed directly for his head. Lancelot was moving in quickly as well. It seemed as though Suzaku was not discourage by the experience in the least.

"If this web represents Britannia, then the damage to the building represents what happens to the common people when it's carelessly attacked," Suzaku said. "If I hadn't held back my attempts to break through your Stand, your vines would have caused those buildings to collapse and hurt innocent people. Some protector!"

Ferocious, fearless and with his eyes only on his enemy. Yes, now Bruford was starting to gain a taste for it. Using strands of his hair to pull on the vines, he moved quickly away from the fast Knightmare. It moved through the air as quickly and smoothly as Bruford did through water, a comparison he did not make lightly.

Yes... Taking him to meet with Master was his new priority. However, that Knightmare would prove troublesome. First he must disable it. After that...

"I won't let you stall for time."

A slash harken tugged on a vine, pulling it out of reach of Bruford's hair at the last moment, sending Bruford dropping out of the air. His hair lashed around as he fell - while above him Lancelot attached its rifle into the device on its back, taking aim at the falling zombie.

"I wonder if you can transfer energy when you're not in contact with the Stand," Suzaku wondered aloud, and fired his devastating weapon. A streak of light hit Bruford dead on, too big for him to evade. Even a zombie couldn't survive a direct hit from this attack, for it would surely obliterate the brain. "It doesn't look like it..." Suzaku said, noting the empty space where Bruford had been a moment ago.

However... Bruford had indeed survived that attack. While it must have seemed as though he was out of contact with his Stand, in fact, the Stand would have outright vanished if Bruford were to completely lose contact with it at any time. A single strand of hair had clung onto a vine as he fell, allowing him to maintain it and also to transfer the powerful energy of Suzaku's attack directly into the Stand allowing the vines behind Suzaku to grow even larger - and also for Bruford to take advantage of a momentary blind spot caused by the bright attack to use his hair and the slightly larger vines to pull himself back into the web.

"Now I need to get rid of this without cutting Lancelot to ribbons," Suzaku said aloud, oblivious to Bruford climbing along the network of vines behind him. Suzaku, you were a good man. You wished to see your friend again? Very well. It would make Miss Ashford happy as well. "Wait... Shouldn't this all have vanished when Bruford was –"

"Forgive my lack of honour in attacking from the rear," Bruford yelled as he pounced on Lancelot's back. His hair pulled his arms up so that his hands lay upon the vines above, ensuring that he could continue to manifest the Stand as he got to work. Standing atop the Knightmare, his hair moved quickly seeking out any joints it could find, any gaps in the metal.

"My power reserves!" Suzaku yelled. Lancelot tried to move - but its arm was caught up in the rapidly growing vines. "You're draining my power through your hair and feeding it into your Stand!"

"I swear to you that I will not kill an opponent with a cowardly, craven attack from behind in the midst of a fight to the death," Bruford said. "You do not understand now, but soon you will: I do this for your sake. Please think no less of me for attacking in this way."

"You're a zombie Stand user," Suzaku replied. "I couldn't think much less of you already."

"A shame," Bruford said. "If you had this fight may have gone differently."

"What I meant was –" Suzaku began, but he was interrupted when a pair of spinning steel balls slammed into Bruford's sides. "- I was fully expecting a cowardly attack from behind."

As a zombie Bruford felt no pain. In spite of that, the pair of balls spinning into his side were rotating in the same direction, pulling him away from Lancelot. Under normal conditions he would use his hands to grip onto the vines, but he couldn't move his limbs while his Stand was active. His hair? No, it would take too long to pull out of Lancelot!

"How?" Bruford asked, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. He pushed his hair to the limits, seeking something within Lancelot to hold onto. "When did you fire those steel balls? I would have noticed!"

Bruford's body was torn away from Lancelot with that realisation, as though the epiphany itself had shocked him so much that it struck him back. His body was sent spinning wildly through the air. His hair lashed out, desperately seeking the vines - but too late. He'd lost contact with the Stand image, and so it dissipated leaving him nothing to draw from but his own life force if he wished to summon it again.

In a remarkable display of skill the zombie knight braced himself for his landing, hitting the pavement hard enough that he sunk in it up to his knees

"I made a blind spot when I fired that shot," Suzaku explained, Lancelot towering over him in the sky. "Did you think that was unintentional?"

Of course! Now Bruford could see the route those balls had taken! "You fired them into the vines after positioning yourself so they'd strike someone attacking from behind," Bruford said, pulling himself out of the pavement while holding his head high. "And then... you baited me in when it seemed like you had worked out what I was doing!"

Well then. So be it. Now he was able to freely use his limbs, while Lancelot had a substantial amount of its power drained. If he could get close enough to drain some more energy, or trick Suzaku into knocking him under one of those lights then he could -

A slash harken tore through his leg the instant Bruford tried to move. He looked around. There were several harkens exactly like it all around him. He tried to draw upon his own life force to summon his Stand - but gleipnir bullets shredded the image almost as soon as it appeared.

As a knight and a warrior, Bruford had faced death countless times. Even before his execution the grim reaper had stood by him like an old friend, greeting him as it reaped the souls of those who fell in battle all around. He had faced enemies that seemed insurmountable. He held no fear of what lay beyond, and would gladly return there when his renewed time on this Earth was finally concluded.

"I'll ask you one last time," Suzaku said. Lancelot gripped the cables of its slash harkens. There wasn't a hint of malice within his soul. Bruford sensed no hatred, only grim determination. "Where is Milly?"

"I'm right here."

A figure rushed out in front of Bruford, throwing out her arms and standing in defiance of the Knightmare floating up in the sky. Bruford had almost forgotten. Bravery did not mean standing up to fight an enemy. It meant putting your life on the line for what you thought was right. That Knightmare could tug on those cables and slice the two of them apart in a second if the pilot only had the will to do it.

"Milly! Please run! That zombie might try to eat you to heal its wounds!"

But Miss Ashford did not budge an inch.

"I have a better suggestion," Milly replied. "Suzaku! You're fighting for the wrong side! You don't understand what's really going on here!"

"I understand enough," Suzaku said. "The Milly I know wouldn't betray her friends and homeland. Unless something forced her."

"Forced me?" Milly replied. "The only thing that's forced me is how much I love my council."

Ah, yes. There was no question of it now. Earlier he had challenged Suzaku Kururugi to show him the depths of his pluck, but now he was seeing a yet deeper reserve. He had believed Miss Ashford had been so shocked by the truth that had been revealed to her, so appalled by the evil on display that she had joined with the only ones on this Earth with the power to stop it. That was a noble enough sacrifice. He had still underestimated her.

"What sort of sense does that make? All you've done is fracture the student council even further! If you're really not being influenced, then explain it to me! Why?"

"A lot of it's for your sake. If you met with him you'd understand - " Milly tried to protest, but Bruford grabbed her ankle and shook his head.

"Have a care," he warned. "You know not who is listening."

The pain on Miss Ashford's face was difficult to behold. She wanted to spill her guts, tell her friend everything so that he might come to understand what they were fighting for and why... and yet, should she say the wrong thing and the wrong person overheard... or if Suzaku learned of it and went back with some information lacking the full context then the damage might be worse than a hundred thousand of these Knightmares.

But if she couldn't explain it to him, then she had no way to convince him. Suzaku would not accept anything less than a full answer, and Bruford could see that he would be a fool to accept anything less. This was a strange modern world. A noble and good soul could clash against another noble and good soul, both believing they were right with all of their hearts. Both believing it was in the other's best interest. It was not as black and white as it had felt when Mary had opposed Elizabeth.

The slash harkens were pulled in and Lancelot began to drift backwards, away from them.

"I'll meet JOJO one day," Suzaku warned. "On my terms."

"Suzaku, wait!" Milly yelled. "Don't hate him! No matter what happens, please don't hate him" If he'd heard, then he didn't reply. The white Knightmare was as good as gone. "Please don't hate me either..."

"Miss Ashford," Bruford said, using his sword as a crutch. "I shall require fresh meat to recover my injury. I can smell rodents. They shall be sufficient, but you may not wish to see me feast."

Milly was staring off in the direction Lancelot had gone off in. Ah. It was difficult for him in this state of being. Maintaining such a thing as basic human empathy. With one hand still using the sword to brace himself against the ground, Bruford put his spare hand upon her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"You do not have to do this," Bruford said. "We shall be enough. Though your spirit is strong, you are not a warrior."

"If things are going to change, this world needs more than warriors," Milly said. She reached out a hand, as though trying to grab something from a distance. "My precious, beautiful council." Her hand closed around nothing but air. "All I want is your happiness. If I have to, then I'll throw my own away..." She shook her head clear of the cobwebs. "Guh, went a bit angsty there for a sec Bruford. A pretty face like mine should be smiling even when things are darkest."

"A smile does suit you better."

"Sorry Bruford," Milly said. She patted his hand and then sauntered off, head held high with an aura of renewed confidence. "I prefer my men to have a pulse that I can quicken. I'll let you have some privacy, I'm not the kind of girl that watches when a man eats meat."

"I did not mean - " Bruford began, but cut himself off. He had intended to correct Miss Ashford on what he had meant by his remark, only to realise it was not needed. She was needling him. An outlet for her own frustration at the situation that she was in.

Deep down, that young woman was struggling with the emotional consequences of their situation. She did not wish to do what she was doing - but Sir Kururugi had been correct. There was a force driving her on. The same forces that drove Bruford and Tarkus to devote themselves to Mary's cause: For duty. For honour.

But on top of everything else she had greater motivation still... Bruford looked to the stars above in dreadful anticipation.

For the Requiem.

====Takako====

Once upon a time, Takako Matsuzawa held a burning and all consuming hatred in her heart for those responsible for continuing the fighting. She blamed the Britannians for their casual disregard for human life. She blamed the Japanese resistance for drawing people into a conflict they had no chance of winning. That hatred had once been her raison d'etre. Her sole justification for existing in this world, exacting swift and precise vengeance upon the responsible parties with scalpel like precision.

That hatred... still sustained her to this very day. While she had been given a new lease on life and a new purpose to fight for, Takako's soul still burned with those fires of contempt and malice. JOJO had helped her channel those feelings into a more productive direction and even helped her develop her Stand. But even that gentle giant could not assuage the pain that fueled the fire burning within. A fire that was being fuelled by her connection to the other two pilots through the Brain Raid system.

"Takako I have to say," her fellow pilot said. "I do not sense hatred towards Gino Weinberg even though he is our enemy."

"I've noticed that as well," the other added. "The anger you are feeling seems like it is not truly directed at him. Why is that?"

What a complicated question to have put to her. Well, it's only natural. While the Brain Raid is capable of sharing many things among those on the network, it can't share things like memories as well. Feelings, instincts, the effects of a Geass and a strong sense of what each other is about to do: All these and a few other things were shared. But it did not share details of memories or what other people on the network were thinking about.

"Mister Joestar has told me that Gino Weinberg is merely misguided due to this upbringing," Takako explained. "The time will come when he will see the light. He will understand the evils his own nation commits. The one I am feeling hate towards are those that sent him here."

Even so, they weren't here. Gino was. While their use of Brain Raid, Ace of Spades and the real decks of cards were letting them pick Tristan apart, it was still an exhausting experience for all three of them. His level of skill and his Knightmare specifications had kept him in the fight far longer than any other regular pilot, especially considering the damage Tristan had already taken so far.

Which left her wondering: What would be the best way for the three of them to approach this Knightmare next? She was running out of tricks to pull. If she could hit him with another two or three cards then that should put him out of the fight. Or a Spade would do the job. Even the Two of Spades might be devastating to a Knightmare like Tristan, as it found itself buried a little in the ground from high up in the air while in the midst of a dogfight...

Then again the Knightmare was already plenty beat up. In that state its arms would not be able to swing around those nasty little spears. If she happened to fire a Heart at him now then they'd be on the back foot again. Which meant that it was time for her to do what the very best magicians and gamblers alike did when their back was to the wall: Bluff like crazy.

"Give up now Knight of Three," Takako offered. "Continue to fight and you will be destroyed. Surrender, and you will be treated as a prisoner of war."

"Just like a soldier..." Gino said.

The three Alexanders lifted their card firing arms up into the air and made ready to open fire. "Don't waste my time," Takako warned. "The only thing you are allowed to say right now is 'I surrender'. If you say anything else, you get the taste of another of my cards. Would you like to gamble on what it might be? If so then say something - anything other than 'I surrender'!"

"I don't gamble," Gino said. "I don't believe in luck, you see. We all make our own luck."

In response to that all three Alexanders fired out cards. Ah, now Tristan may have been damaged, and its ability to attack was weaker than normal, but its agility was still basically fine. It kept its distance from the storm of cards, but in the process the Alexanders were able to get around him. Now they wouldn't need to use Ace of Spades to stop him. If they rushed him right now, he'd be finished.

"We all gamble. Every single day of our lives," Takako said. "Would you like to make another wager before you lose this fight?"

"That really is exactly like a soldier," Gino said. "Your family... must be so proud."

What? What did he say? What did he say... About her family?! Takako saw red. Metaphorically speaking that is. In a literal sense she saw Tristan transform into a different form, like a fighter jet which then sped off.

"After him!" Takako screamed. "Gino Weinberg! Now you're gambling on a retreat? You craven coward!"

"Easy now," Gino calmly said. Mocking her. Mocking her loss. Mocking the evil that his military got up to every single hour of every single day. Somewhere in the world, right at this moment someone was suffering. The same way that Takako was suffering. And he was trying to tell her to take it easy? "It's commendable, really. You should be proud. Going toe to toe with a Knight of the Round? Even with backup? I'm sure your family would be cheering you on."

"You insensitive brute!" Takako yelled, overcome with fury. The Alexanders went into Insect Mode, all the better to minimise their air drag, and they entered immediate hot pursuit. It may not be enough: In this mode Tristan was a very fast Knightmare. "I'll kill you! No! You'd better hope that I kill you! Because if I catch you alive then I will drop every single card in my deck on top of you at once!"

"There's no escape!"

"You won't get away!"

Her pilots shared in her anger righteous and furious as it was. Concerns of how she might trick him were cast to the wind. Takako seethed, and she opened fire with her card firing gun directly aiming at Tristan's back. Eye twitching, but aim still true, the cards flew out - and were immediately swept up in the slipstream behind Tristan.

"Fufufufu!" Takako chuckled. "Now you're trapped no matter what! Your own speed is dragging those cards behind you. Take a gamble, Gino Weinberg! The second you slow down is the second they hit you. Take evasive maneuvers, and we'll catch up on you. This game is over! Your own retreat will mark your end!"

"Who said I was retreating?" Gino asked. Strange, but his tone of voice there sounded... different? More serious, and solemn. "Hey, I don't know what happened with your family, but... I'm sorry. It must've hurt you a lot if it made you this angry."

Sorry? He was... apologising? For the sins his Empire had committed? Was this what Mister Joestar had meant when he had spoken of the potential within the Knight of Three? That he could change? That he did have a conscience but had merely been born on the wrong side?

"And I'm really sorry for this."

Up ahead of them Tristan whirled around upside down - coming right back towards them. The fool! While the sudden change in direction had ejected the cards in his slipstream now it would be even easier for them to bring him down! The Alexanders continued moving aggressively towards him -

"You know, this system you have is amazing," Gino said. "It lets you work together so well. Such a shame it also shares your emotional outbursts, too."

Emotional... Outbursts...? Takako froze a moment there and looked to the other two Alexanders. They were out of formation. It couldn't be...? That stunts before had been to manipulate her emotions so they'd all become blinding mad with anger?

"Back in formation! Now!" Takako yelled. Any moment now he'd fire those slash harkens or open fire with Tristan's rifles. All three of them had their tonfas ready. "Whatever he's planning on doing it won't work against our teamwork!"

Except she could still feel it in the back of their minds. The rush of adrenaline that comes from raw blinding fury. Playing on their nervous system. Dancing at the back of their minds. Even the fact that this strategy was used against them in the first place - No, breathe! Calm yourself! Focus on the task at hand and then let your anger out later.

That withheld anger turned to surprise when Gino... Flew up. Tristan climbed over their heads instead of attacking or going into them. It went straight up in the air, right up above them for no reason that Takako could see. But what she could see was another chance to fire some cards into his slipstream. If he thought he'd get away that easily then -

A flurry of cards then flew right past them, some even touching the Alexanders as they went. What? What was this? As the Stand manifested around them, an assortment of all four suits, Takako considered it in her mind exactly what had happened.

"The cards on the ground," she gasped. "The ones that missed him - He used that high speed to cause a burst of wind to pull them up!"

Looking around at what had touched them, Takako felt that they should be alright. Depending on when the Hearts healed them up, that is. But even in the best case scenario they weren't going to be in any condition to pursue Gino Weinberg as he fled back towards the ocean.

"Heh... I gotta remember to thank that Kallen girl the next time I see her," Gino said. "She taught me a lot about Stand fights... even if it took a while for the lessons to sink in."

====Sayoko====

Within the world of professional fighting you will often see divisions into weight classes. There is good reason for this: A heavier fighter holds many advantages over a smaller fighter. The greater the difference, the greater the advantage. The reasons behind this are obvious: A decent fighter throwing a punch is going to put that weight into it. It will also be much easier for them to win a grapple, allowing them to throw the opponent around at will.

On that basis there is only one strategy that will work for a fighter who is significantly smaller. Dodge. Eave. Keep at a distance and try to pick them apart. Go for the legs that keep them up, and turn their weight into a disadvantage.

But the problem with that is... when you only have one viable tactic then your opponent will know exactly what you are going to do, and will come up with counters to it. Note the plural: They will not rely on any one method to win as this will ensure they keep their advantage.

This was the situation Sayoko and her Alexander allies were in right now. Mordred was a heavyweight Knightmare and they were all lightweights. Mordred had something worse than a knockout blow on each of its shoulders, an array of missiles packed within its sturdy frame and its fists could rip them apart if it ever got ahold of them. In comparison, all the hits they had managed so far had been little more than insect bites. It was a tough enemy.

Which was why...

"Psychological tricks are all you have," Anya said. No... that tone of voice was different from before. It was a bit more playful, a bit more lively. "Hit and run while stalling for time, trying to keep dear Anya too preoccupied to try anything else. Even running away. Well... I'll turn that around in a flash."

"What's she up to?" another pilot asked. "Suddenly, the mood feels like it changed."

"That's a good way to put it," Sayoko said. They were probably feeling the same anxiety that she was starting to feel. Not much of it, but now she knew who they were really up against. Marianne vi Britannia. Lelouch and Nunnally's mother. The woman that had taken to hiding within the back of poor Anya's mind upon her assassination attempt. In the process ruining that girl's life as surely as those of her children were forever altered by that hateful event.

She'd been warned to treat this woman carefully. She was a renowned fighter, and a canny tactician. An enemy to be feared. Her first move would doubtless set the tone for the rest of this fight. Going up against Anya was bad enough, but at least they had a psychological element to the battle. Against Marianne the Flash...?

"First rule of combat," Marianne said. Mordred rose higher into the air over the Princes Street Gardens, and turned to face the old town of Edinburgh. "Never fight on your enemy's terms."

Both of Mordred's shoulders flared into life, and then released concentrated twin beams that blasted straight through the buildings at the top of The Mound. Then, with the kind of tone a mother uses when warning their child to stop bad behaviour, Marianne said one simple word while Mordred slowly turned around.

"Three."

"She's firing on the city!" Sayoko yelled. All three Alexanders broke cover right away. They had been using the upturned plants and dirt from Mordred's barrage as a hiding place, seeking a chance where the heavyweight Knightmare dropped its guard enough for them to strike.

"Two."

Now though, they had no choice but to attack. Immediately. The Alexander to Sayoko's right threw another smoke bomb into Mordred's path, hoping to throw off its aim but Sayoko knew that wouldn't be enough. Not for an enemy like Marianne - Nor would Anya have been thrown off.

They fired into the fog hoping to draw her attention onto them and away from the city. Well, you know what they say. Be careful what you wish for.

"One."

Flash emerged from the smoke and sliced clean through one Alexander's flight enabler. Meanwhile, Mordred flew out at a surprising speed and flat out punched Sayoko's other ally. While those two fell back to the gardens below Sayoko brought out both of Alexander's Uruna Edge knives. Each one aimed to a different location. One the energy filler, the other the factsphere.

Alas, all she hit was Blaze Luminous. As if this Knightmare wasn't dangerous enough it had to have that damnable forcefield on top of everything else. With this monstrous Knightmare's strength all she could do was pull back.

"Ah ah ah! Are you sure you want to do that?" Marianne asked. "Don't make me fire into the city again. My aim might not be so wobbly next time."

Turning the fight around so immediately and ruthlessly, pushing Sayoko into a corner while thoroughly negating every advantage she had. No question of it. This was Lelouch's mother.

"You don't really care what happens to them," Sayoko said.

"Oh dear. It seems as though I have an unfortunate condition," Marianne warned. "If I hear something other than an answer to my questions, my index finger reflexively pulls. So no back talk, now. We wouldn't want to cause an accident. Do you understand?"

Sayoko looked over the situation with a critical viewpoint. In front of her was Mordred, a powerhouse Knightmare being piloted by one of the most proficient pilots in the world. A little above her was a feminine seeming Stand wearing fencing gear. It was fast. Even her ninja training was unable to fully keep up with it. The only advantage that she had was keeping to a distance - but any long range attack would invite use of the Blaze Luminous system which would fully block any bullet.

A devastating mixture of supernatural powers and technology. If Sayoko had accepted the power of a Stand she might be able to win this fight. No, more like survive this fight. Very well then. If she couldn't fight for a win then there was nothing else for it.

"I understand," Sayoko said. "In which case... We won't give you the opportunity to fire that cannon in the first place!"

One of the Alexanders on the ground immediately opened fire upon Mordred, which activated its Blaze Luminous again to deflect those bullets. Yes, that's right. They were going to rely upon that defense to win this battle. Firing the hadron cannons as often as she has, activating Blaze Luminous this often would have to wear down her energy filler very quickly.

"You can't keep this up forever," Marianne warned. "Even if you take turns you'll run out of bullets long before I run out of power. And what will you do then?"

A tree branch struck the Blaze Luminous and broke into splinters.

"Then we'll use whatever else we can get our hands on," Sayoko said. "This is something else that your daughter has taught me. To have faith in those around you and repay them with a smile."

But it seemed as though Sayoko had underestimated their enemy's resolve. Mordred dropped its Blaze Luminous taking the hits without any fear. Bullets bounced off its frame while the Stand flicked away any and all bullets that came close to the flight enabler.

"Thank you for answering those questions," Marianne said. Mordred then drifted menacingly closer, inch by inch approaching Sayoko's Knightmare. "Your honesty was much appreciated. I sincerely hope that you continue to be so honest, because anything else would be –"

Mordred then turned its back to Sayoko as if daring her to attack. The Stand interposed itself in between the two Knightmares, lifting its sword as if in challenge. Meanwhile, even from behind Sayoko could tell that Mordred had opened up all of its missile launchers. All of them. In its legs, in its wrists, hips and chest.

"Useless, useless, useless, useless, useless!"

Sayoko tried to interfere. Her ninja skills gave her tremendous aim and reflexes. But not enough to keep up with a Stand that specialised in speed and neatly countered her every attempt. Every shot, every projectile, it even neatly knocked aside a smoke grenade down to the ground.

And on the ground, through the Brain Raid system, Sayoko felt the deaths of the other two pilots. She felt their moment of grief become a moment of pride as the darkness took them. For they had died in the name of a greater cause while fighting a great evil. This time there had been no dodging the attack. No hiding, no misdirection was possible. The enemy's aim was both true and too widespread for either of those to work.

None of which kept Sayoko from feeling the sudden disconnect as if someone had hammered a nail into the back of her head. A shock to the system like that was more than enough, of course. The weakest fighter on Earth could take down the strongest if the strongest had just experienced a shock like this. It left Sayoko as defenseless as if Marianne had used The World to stop time. Which Mordred's fist took great delights in taking advantage of, punching her Alexander to the ground where it lay in a heap.

"Insect mode," Sayoko said. She hit that switch - but then Mordred landed a foot atop the Alexander, pressing it down into the dirt.

"Look at what you did. You and your friends made a terrible mess of this beautiful garden," Marianne jeered. "Tut tut. I should order you to clean it up, but somehow I doubt you're in the right condition. So I'll settle for some answers to some more of my questions. And I'll start with... What do you know that you shouldn't?"

"I know..." Sayoko began. Then she took a deep breath and picked her words carefully. "That I was more their mother than you ever were."

Marianne sighed that weary sigh of a mother who knew they had no choice now but to scold their child lest they become spoiled rotten. Mordred lifted up into the air with what seemed almost like resignation. Sayoko grappled with the controls, desperately trying to make her Knightmare move. To no avail. There was no stopping her.

"I warned you," Marianne said. "I warned you not to say anything irrelevant. Now look at what you've made me do."

Sayoko watched in horror, for true horror comes from a feeling of absolute helplessness as something dreadful happens before your eyes. The cannons on Mordred's shoulders folded down settling together into a much larger weapon that the Knightmare had to hold in two hands. Then it fired a tremendous beam, once again into the old town of Edinburgh. From here Sayoko couldn't see where she was aiming, and it was tough to gauge how high in the sky she was. All she knew was that wherever she'd just hit, it was going to cause a hell of a lot of damage.

"You're a monster!" Sayoko yelled.

"Oh! That wasn't a response to a question!" Marianne said. The Stand made a cutesy gesture, an exaggerated girlish salute and a curtsey that came across as extremely sarcastic. "I should open fire again, but I'll let that one slide out of the goodness of my heart."

What goodness might that be? So far as Sayoko could tell there wasn't any goodness to be found here.

"In exchange I just want to know who your spy is," Marianne asked. "That's not too hard is it? You know a little too much about my activities even in Pendragon. Too many specifics. It's extremely suspicious, you know. So? Who told you?"

Hmph. "Chancellor Brando," she suggested.

"Bzt! Wrong! Care to try again?" Marianne said. "That question was rhetorical. Give me a better answer before my medical condition kicks up."

Someone's finger got itchy but it wasn't Marianne's. Mordred was suddenly struck from a distance with energy cannon fire from a fair distance away. Sayoko could tell right away. That was a shot from a Panzer-Hummel!

"It appears that reinforcements have arrived," Sayoko said. "You're welcome to stay, Knight of Six. How do you like your tea? I'll be sure to brew it up personally."

"... Tsk, how troublesome! I don't have enough energy to tackle all twenty of them. It seems that your stalling paid off in the end. Enjoy your pyrrhic victory. With enough of these you'll be surrendering to Britannia before the month is out."

And then it left amidst a sea of cannon fire. However tough Mordred's defenses were it could never survive a sustained attack from Panzer-Hummels, and Sayoko strongly doubted they were the first wave of reinforcements coming to the city's defense. If only they had arrived a little sooner. They might have stopped that Stark Hadron Cannon shot into the city. How many lives had that cost? She dreaded to find out.

"Miss Sayoko, it's a pleasure to meet one of the Paladins!" the head pilot of the Panzer-Hummels said, and she could hear the salute from inside the cockpit. "I only wish it were under better circumstances. It rather seems as though that Britannian beat you."

Sayoko mulled that over. Yes. Physically, there was no question of it. She'd been beaten. Brain Raid and her ninja skills hadn't been enough to keep up with Mordred and that Stand. Furthermore they had lost two pilots and two Alexanders, not to mention the civilian casualties that had been lost when she fired into the city.

And yet...

She reached across the cockpit and picked up a small device that had been attached to the Knightmare's sensors. It wasn't damaged. That was good. Next, she pressed a button on the top and then -

"You know a little too much about my activities even in Pendragon. Too many specifics. It's extremely suspicious, you know. So? Who told you?"

"I don't think we can count this as a loss," Sayoko said. "I wonder... what will Prince Schneizel make of this, when he receives that message from 'Nina'?"

Memorize recording. Complete.

====Tarkus====

When first he had learned of the modern marvel called a Knightmare frame Tarkus had come to think that modern people were soft. In some ways that was true. In others they were harder. Much, much harder. This advancement in technology had allowed people to become so much crueler, so much colder and so much more distant than he could have ever dreamed.

For a Knight who relished battle such as he? This modern age wasn't such a terrible thing. It presented him with new challenges and new obstacles to overcome. Challenges that would not have been possible in the time he was alive! Not even in the realm of fantasy and dreams could such enemies exist!

Their battle had brought them back to the old town of Edinburgh, not far from the castle. A more appropriate site for them to duel could not be picked out in the entire city. How would the strongest of the modern day fare against the full wrath of the past's strongest? So far Tarkus had merely been testing the waters, but in his new suit of Stand formed armour he would bring a fight to Bismarck Waldstein that would rock this city to its core!

Galahad was flying in fast, descending from the sky like a swooping eagle. The giant Knightmare had its massive sword, Excalibur, ready and drawn. If the two of them were not careful then that blade could easily slice through the buildings around them. It struck Tarkus that this sword was indeed worthy to be given the same name as Arthur's legendary weapon. By itself it was almost as dangerous as the Knight of One!

"How strong is this pseudo-Knightmare of yours, Sir Tarkus?" Bismarck asked. "Can it hope to compare to modern techniques? Show me!"

Ask and you shall receive. Tarkus rushed forward to great Galahad head on, fearless in the face of such a powerful enemy. As he approached a large opening formed on his armour's chest, pink on the inside and shaped like a mouth that was dotted with fangs. At the last possible moment Tarkus screeched to a halt and unleashed it: A 'slash harken' in the form of a venus fly trap! Exactly as Miss Ashford had imagined, the carnivorous plant flew out on a chain made of interlocking flowers in a mockery of the way that Knightmares fired out slash harkens.

Though now he would have to use the name she had come up with for this attack.

"Venus Love-Me Chain!"

"Not good enough!" Bismarck yelled. He whirled around the attack almost as though he knew it was coming and brought Excalibur down upon the chain of flowers. It passed through with the same ease as before, sending Tarkus reeling back, screaming in agony. "A pale imitation of modern warfare. Nothing more!"

Galahad continued on its approach as Tarkus flew backwards from the impact. Really now, Sir Bismarck? A pale imitation was it? They knew all about that power of yours. The power to see the future, up to five seconds. An astonishing advantage in a fight. However... Tarkus had long since worked out the limitations of such a power. He had figured it out after Miss Ashford had taken them to that magic show and explained the defining principles of the performance.

"It's all about misdirection," she had said while casually making a ball disappear from one hand to another. "It's what you're not seeing that's making it seem impossible."

By the same principle what Sir Bismarck was not looking at was something he could not predict. For example! That chain had not been cut by Excalibur. He had dismissed that part of the chain while keeping the venus flytrap intact! Through his will the toothy maw was turning around and descending upon Galahad's flight enabler, an unwieldy contraption that doubled as his sword's sheath.

"Nothing more," Bismarck repeated and then Galahad's blaze luminous came to life. Right at the moment of impact, the venus flytrap was repelled by the forcefield causing a wound like a bite mark to appear on Tarkus' chest through sympathy with his Stand. "Who would be foolish enough to relax their guard around a Stand user?"

Tarkus waved his hand, shooting out a series of thorns as fast as bullets. Galahad dodged around them with seeming minimal effort. It was as though his Knightmare had done nothing more than shrug for all the effort he'd put in.

"Honestly though! Trying such a dishonourable attack? For shame!" Bismarck jeered, firing out all ten of Galahad's finger harkens. "I would have expected better from a knight of legend.

"Honour?" Tarkus asked, grinning in anticipation. "Honour means triumphing over a strong enemy in combat. Honour means victory! And I will do whatever I must to achieve that victory!"

He didn't even bother dodging the slash harkens, letting them bounce off his Stand armour as he prepared yet more thorns larger than the last set and far more numerous. He fired out these projectiles so closely together they practically made a wall that forced Galahad to rise into the air, dodging once it was too late for Tarkus to adjust his aim.

"Is this the limit of your ability?" Bismarck asked. As Galahad rose the cables from his slash harken twisted alongside the Knightmare, causing them to intertwine around Tarkus's body. "There, now you cannot dodge my next attack."

Yet inside his armour Tarkus was grinning a truly insane grin. "Neither can you."

He had waited until he had been tied up for five seconds before making his move. Until then he had been content to manipulate his thorns to seem as though they were going to chase Bismarck, draw his attention towards them and away from his real trap. Namely: Wrapping vines around his harken cables. Making them creep along them at a rapid pace all the way back to their source. That was his plan, you see: To manipulate the limits of Bismarck's Geass. He could only see five seconds into the future at a time and no further than this.

So how do you defeat an enemy capable of predicting your next move? By presenting them with a future where they seem bound to win! That was why Tarkus had allowed himself to be tied up, to present that illusion and give Bismarck the ghost of a victory that could be violently snatched away!

Alas, Galahad's course changed almost as soon as Tarkus had begun this plan. It dragged him off the ground and swung him around hard, retracting its cables in a way that quickly untied him and sent him rolling across the ground so hard that he crashed into a cafe with an elephant logo on the front. The patrons had - sensibly - heeded the warning given by the claxon and had hidden elsewhere. As such it was empty save for Tarkus, which suited his needs perfectly fine.

"It seems your Stand has its limits," Bismarck said. He had Excalibur waiting in his hand. "Come out and face me."

A table was thrown out through the window a moment later, and was neatly cut in half by Excalibur's blade. He didn't even have to activate the sword's energy field for that one. But he did have to a moment later when he was confronted by the green giant armour leaping out at him with a wooden axe in both hands.

"Head on? You continue to insult me!"

Bismarck deflected the blades as easily as he drew breath`but the real threat was never from them. Tarkus knew that letting up for an instant would be his doom, and so he followed up by releasing swords from the armour's feet, splitting his legs wide apart and swinging them in to strike Galahad's sides. He couldn't hope to block these two attacks while parrying at the same time!

Galahad quickly backed off, but then a long spear shot out of both of the armour's knees, extending quickly towards the enemy Knightmare. If he thought that he could dodge that easily then Tarkus would cut off every avenue of escape!

"I see what you're planning," Bismarck warned, activating blaze luminous at the last possible moment and allowing the weapons to crash against it. The timing was perfect. A second later and Galahad would be struck. A second sooner and Tarkus would have pulled the blow. The armour fell back in shock and cuts formed along Tarkus's arms and legs in response to the Stand sympathy. "You want me to use Blaze Luminous to drain my energy reserves. Wear down Galahad until it cannot fight back any longer. Turning my own defensive actions into an attack against me."

Now Galahad moved in for the attack seeming utterly fearless of the zombie and its shapeshifting Stand. The armour shot out tendrils, but these were batted aside by the back of its hand. A heavy blow was landed upon the armour's neck - in spite of efforts to dodge it - that sent him tumbling around. A rapidly spinning flower was formed on the armour's back and fired out yet Galahad's foot found its way around this projectile and landed hard upon the armour's back.

This was the full strength of Bismarck's Geass. Every attack was known already. Every defense and reaction could be foreseen. A skilled warrior who could know every move you were about to make was all but invincible.

"You could deflect ordinary blows," Bismarck admitted,while Galahad gripped the massive blade in both hands. "However... I can see that you won't be able to block it if all of Galahad's weight is thrown into it as well! Have at you!"

The mighty sword came down and pierced clean through Tarkus's armour, burying itself in all the way to the hilt, pinning the armour to the ground. But then... the vines wrapped around that hilt and Galahad's hands as well. For you see, the armour was completely empty.

Tarkus had abandoned the armour within the cafe, you see. Then he had crawled along the outside to the roof above. Kukuku... Yes, this was how you defeated an enemy capable of 'seeing the future'. As he had said before! You show them a future where they are victorious and then you spring your trap.

The metal was easily torn apart. Like cracking an egg. Though Tarkus quickly learned the difference when Bismarck's sword came out through the tear in the top of the cockpit, deftly slicing into Tarkus' chest.

"Thank you for your weapon," Tarkus said. He pulled the sword out of his own chest and lifted it up high. To his credit Bismarck was still seeming confident. Even in this moment where he had to know he could not win he was still presenting an air of absolute mastery over the battlefield. "I wish we could have fought when I was still human, Bismarck Waldstein. It would have been glorious!"

"Battle is never glorious," Bismarck replied. "That is a lie we tell our children to justify war." He grabbed at Galahad's controls, but what good could his Knightmare do him now? Excalibur had been wedged into the pavement by his own power and was being held there by Kissed By a Rose. "Although in this case... You are one of the strongest foes that I have ever fought. Take pride in that Tarkus, before I end your existence."

Suddenly Galahad shot into the air, tilting back and forcing Tarkus to hold on for dear life. Looking down he could see that he was already out of range of his Stand, which had caused it to vanish. Bah! This was fine! He plunged Bismarck's sword into the side of the Knightmare so he could use it as a grip, but he would not be shaken off so easily. Not when he was so close to victory!

Out of nowhere Excalibur shot up into the air past Galahad. What? What was this, now? Ah! He had left Galahad's harken cables wrapped around it so he could pull it free! Impressive, but whatever the Knight of One was planning it wouldn't succeed against -

The train of thought that Tarkus had been on was cut short at that moment when he caught sight of another Knightmare off in the distance. It was a bright twinkle of light that had caught his eye. A bright twinkle that was getting closer and closer. As such, he barely noticed Galahad grabbing hold of Excalibur. He didn't even see as the Knightmare began to swing it in an inexplicable direction. All he did see was the sight of an energy attack. A large one. Heading directly towards the theatre, which he knew for a fact was being used as a shelter...

In life Tarkus had been a ruthless warrior. Devoted to his Queen? Yes. Absolutely. Within that devotion he had been utterly merciless to her enemies and would expect no less from them in turn. On finding himself awakened within this modern age he had sought the means to further his revenge on those who bore Elizabeth's wicked soul, for he saw it everywhere within the Holy Britannian Empire. Everywhere except...

"Hey, Tarkus! I just now realised. I've never seen you smile."

"I only smile in the heat of battle. When my enemy is crushed in body or in soul."

He had expected her to recoil in horror from that remark. Instead, she showed him... pity.

"That's a shame," she said. "A smile is a precious thing, you know. You shouldn't only store it up for something that cruel. Try smiling for a kind reason, I think you'll like it!"

"Kindness is a weakness," had been his response. He turned away from the young woman that was bothering him. "If you have nothing of substance to say, then I must return to my duties."

"Hey, hey! Wait a minute! You're not getting away that easily. I want to see if I can make you laugh! Have you heard this one? Why didn't the skeleton go to the dance?"

The blast from the Stark Hadron Cannon hit a wall of plants in the middle of the air before it could come down upon its target. A giant thorny bush that appeared out of nowhere. Cracks appeared all over Tarkus' zombie body from the hit. The wall had buckled. He held it fast. He held it in place. The people inside the theatre were safe.

Then Excalibur bisected him from head to toe.

"Ah... hang it all," Bismarck grunted in frustration. "I thought you were about to use that as some kind of attack. By the time I realised the truth, it was already too late for me to stop."

Tarkus could feel it. That is to say, he could feel it. His body was starting to dissolve. Both halves of them. It... hurt. It hurt like hell. It hurt worse than any pain he'd felt in life. But most crucially. It hurt. Pain. He had forgotten what pain felt like.

The right side of his body came to rest upon a fountain as it dissolved. A fountain with a bronze statue of a dog resting atop it. A skye terrier. Tarkus did not know it, but this fountain was a memorial to the local legend of the Greyfriars Bobby. A dog who had remained loyal to its dead master, staying by his grave for fourteen years until its own death.

The last thing that Tarkus saw before his eyes faded was the sight of Galahad and its pilot within the exposed cockpit both saluting him. Bismarck had his left eye closed again.

"Farewell, Knight of history," Bismarck said. "I'll be taking my leave now. Should anyone ask who won on the day that Bismarck Waldstein fought the legendary Tarkus... I shall tell them that on that day, Tarkus was the better Knight."

So be it, Knight of One. Though that small act of honour could not make up for the pain and the suffering you would - that you have already caused through your participation in your Emperor's mad scheme.

It was a strange thing. In this final death Tarkus felt more human than he had ever felt when he had been alive. He could only apologise to Miss Ashford. He hadn't quite learned how to smile... But he had learned that kindness was not a weakness, rather a different form of strength. Let that be victory enough.

Tarkus/Kissed by a Rose: Deceased

[To Be Continued |\|]

Geass Stats

Future Vision

User: Bismarck

Range: C (limited to the extent of the left eye's vision)

Control: E (Does not permit any form of control over the thoughts or actions of others)

Duration: A (As the power affects Bismarck, may be used against undead, Code Bearers and inanimate objects freely.)

Stability: E (Permanently active)

Abilities:

The user may see events up to five seconds into the future. This ability is inherently limited by what the user is able to see at that time through his left eye.

As Bismarck is an exceptionally talented fighter this Geass gives him an extra edge in any battle, as he can react even quicker than normal to enemy attacks and know perfectly how they intend to defend against him.

This Geass is permanently active. Bismarck normally has his left eye sewn shut. Using the Geass for over an hour causes him a severe headache that worsens until he stops.