Hello everyone, Reader here! New story, so I hope you enjoy! Any authors notes will be on the bottom, so let's straight into it!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CODE GEASS
Exhausted = Explicating a word
*BANG* = Action
"Stop!" = Speech
"Knightmares." = Thoughts.
Chapter 1: Stormy Night
It was a stormy night in the enormous sprawling metropolis. The city was illuminated by the large bolts of lightning that struck the various skyscrapers. Heavy rain patterned against the smooth metal and glass surfaces of the buildings, the streams of rain water dripping down to the street level below. Along the streets cracked sidewalks with trees and bushes were aligned. The sidewalks were seemingly deserted, not a single soul could be seen. Every once in a while a car would drive by, splashing the sidewalks with rainwater that had yet be drained.
It was midnight in the usually bustling city. But with the rain and the time, it had lead to few people wanting to leave the comfort of a warm bed and sleep. The sidewalks were illuminated by light posts every so often, however most of it was left in the dark. Few windows were lightened up in the buildings varied of residential and small businesses, but many were darkened. A howling wind screeched as it tore branches, leaves and other debris and scattered them across the sidewalk.
Another bolt of lightning rang down from the heavens as a man appeared on the sidewalk. The man walked slowly, the sound of his boots echoing in the empty streets. The man wore a tan trench coat and a black hat, standing out in the darkness or the night. As he passed a light post, a barely visible shine could be seen coming from his pockets. The hat was placed in such a way that it castes a light shadow across his face, making it impossible to tell the mans features except his bright purple eyes.
*Thud* *Thud* *Thud*
The man continued on his way, unfazed by the drenching rain and loud lighting. An ice cold expression was plastered on his face, his eyes staring off into the near distance. His hand were placed in the pockets of his coat, gripping the contents as if his life depended on it. He was a professional among professionals in his certain field of expertise, and one thing he had learned in his career and he abides by at all times: never let your guard down, and always put your life above anything else.
No matter how safe you may think you are, there is always someone or someone that wants or can kill you at a moments notice and with little to no warning or hesitation. He never took any sort of un-calculated risks; always looking over the options given to him and choosing the one that valued his life over anyone else's. This advice had saved his life on many occasions in the past, and it was something he would follow by till the day he would die.
After walking for about 30 minutes he reached his intended destination. It was a shabby home built in the slums of the city, a place know haven for crime and degeneracy. The city had been built around trading, from its innocent roots of trading with natives hundred of year prior to the modern day of international trade. It was an important hub of commerce, leading to many hastily built warehouses and docks to fit the demand for more and more importation and exportation. However, because these areas were far away from the nearest police stations, crime flourished like wild animals in a nature reserve.
At the warehouse entrance a small group of thugs were crowded around a trash can fire covered by the roof. Most of them were your average thugs, armed with simple weapons like bats and small pocket knives, a few armed with small pistols. This combined with their trashy clothing, obviously noticeable hygiene issues and seemingly poor choice in hair styles gave off an aura of idiotic thugs. He crouched low to ground, slowly making his way towards the group, while reaching into his pocket.
As he got in range, he pulled out a small butterfly knife and unfolded it while staying in the shadows, spotting a target that was separated from the main group. In a split second he sent his blade into man's neck while covering his mouth with his free hand. The blood trickled over his fingers like a fountain as the dying man attempted to knock him off. The last thing he saw were cold amethyst eyes before his consciousness faded to black.
Dropping the body to the floor, he wiped the blade against the sleeve of his coat, allowing the rain to wash the blood off. Pulling out a tube-shaped silenced pistol, he crept behind the group with both weapons in hand, deciding to attack the one whose back was exposed to him.
He plunged the blade directly into the man's spinal cord, using the surprise to level the pistol over the paralyzed man's shoulder and fired exactly five consecutive shots that pierced the head of each lowlife. Twisting the pistol around in his hand, he pressed the end of the barrel against the thugs head before ending his life. It took less than a minute, and all the several guards were dead.
Reloading the pistol, he cleaned the knife again before placing it into his pocket, the quietly walked up to the door of the house. He nearly puked as the rotten smell of cooking drugs, chemicals and alcohol berated his nose. He shook his head as he pulled a face mask over his mouth and nose before pressing open the door.
Holding the gun at the ready, he swiftly entered and scouted around the dingy main room that was filled with narcotics, empty beer bottles and trashed furniture. Taking each step lightly and making his breaths short, he tried to make as little sound as possible to try and determine the gang leader position.
He was hired by a rival gang group to remove their competitor by force, though he had is own reasons as well. The drug they were making, known as Refrain, was one of the most destructive drugs in the market. The kind this gang was making was known to be even more toxic and mind numbing than the regular versions. And he knew all too well what refrain could do to someone's mind.
Walking up the rickety staircase, he heard someone walking down the stair and took aim. The thug, oblivious the incoming threat, stepped out into the assassin clear view and freezed. The man fired a single round that went through the man's head and instantly he fell dead. The hitman cursed as he was unable to catch the body before it fell onto the stair, making a loud noise that would surely drag the rest of the inhabitants out.
In response he placed the silenced gun into his pocket while he pulled out a much larger pistol. Continuing to walk up the stair, he heard quickly moving footsteps that were coming towards him. At the top of the staircase, the group of gangsters and the assassin met face to face.
"Oh shit! Paul! Get th-!" he was cut off as the man pulled the trigger and the bullet went through the man's chest. Aiming quickly enough, he dropped the three of them before they could retaliate. At the end of the long hallway, a man with an submachine gun brushed out of a door and spotted him. Aiming at him, he pulled the trigger and fired a volley of shots.
Seeing no escape, he dropped to the floor, with a single bullet tearing at the surface of the coat. He counter attacked, firing off more shots as he riddled the gangsters with lead. Due to the force of the shots, the thug was sent out of the window and onto the hard pavement below. Quickly moving down the hall, he reached what he assumed was the kingpins room.
Seeing as the door was locked, he blasted the lock of with his gun before kicking open the door. Inside were a few scantily dressed women hiding behind what they could find while the gang leader stood on the king sized bed with an automatic shotgun aimed at the door. Seeing the danger, he dodged behind the wall, barely missing a barrage of pellets.
"Not so tough now, eh!?" screeched the man as he entered the hall. The assassin fired a bullet at the gangster, the round piercing his chest as blood splattered against the wall. He was shocked as the kingpin gave a wild look before charging him at full speed.
"Did you think THAT would get ME?! HAHAHAHA! YOUR GONNA DIE FOR THAT!" he panted insanely as he readied the shotgun for another assault. The man bolted into a nearby room to dodge the incoming fire.
"Fucking crazy junkie..." he thought as he ducked behind a nearby wardrobe. Hearing the loud footsteps of the approaching man, he readied his attack, pulling out his butterfly knife and unfolding it. He needed to eliminate this guy in one fatal attack, as he'll just soak up all other damage like a sponge.
As he entered the room, he pounced on him, knocking the shotgun out of his hands before he could fire. The assassin struggled to fight against the gangsters seemingly unlimited strength. Kick after kick, punch after punch, even shots from his pistol seemed to be useless as he continued to fight. Unless he was able to get off a head shot, he wasn't gonna get out of this pretty. He was grabbed by the collar of his coat, punched a few times before being thrown against the wall across the room.
Sliding to the floor, his vision was hazy and his breathing was erratic, only being able to discern the basic shapes of the objects in his sight. Seeing as the outline of the drugged out man was slowly walking towards him, he looked around to see anything that would help him. Seeing the shotgun from earlier, he used the last of his strength to pull himself to the gun. Grabbing it, he quickly aimed it at the advancing man before squeezing the trigger.
The gun fired repeatedly as multiple shotgun rounds were fired at rapid pace. The man was shredded by the multiple shells, blood pouring out of the many holes created, falling to the ground as he gasped for breath. The assassin managed to clear his head, standing up and walking over to the gravely wounded gangster who slightly raised his head.
"You won't get away with this, you little sh-!" he was silenced when a final shotgun blast to the head instantly killed him. Falling back to the ground, blood began pooling around his body as the hitman threw the firearm to the ground. Exiting the room, he searched around the house for the storehouse of drugs, where he would find the Refrain.
Upon opening a small closet door, he spotted the oh so familiar suitcase that all Refrain was stored in. These injection kits, which were usually supplied by a corrupt doctor, had multiple vials of the substance and an injector that could be used anywhere on the body. The effects were usually instantaneous, transporting the user to fond memories of the part, before being sucked back into the real world.
Looking around for anything flammable, he walked out to the garage and found a liter of gasoline next to a broken down truck. Picking it up, he quickly returned to the pile of suitcases before pouring the gas over the entire pile. With the jerrycans emptied, he pulled out a match and lit it, before throwing it onto the cases. The fire quickly began consuming the cases and the surrounding area. The man quickly exited the house to avoid the flames.
The job complete, he swiftly walking towards his motorcycle, he turned the keys and the engine started and he took off down the road. Turning his head backwards, he spotted a few people approaching the burning house while the sounds of sirens quickly approached.
(1 Hour Later)
The man sat back on his couch into the couch as he felt the soothing ointment calm his nerves. He still had multiple bruises and wounds from his altercation just an hour ago. He stared at the T.V, flipping through the various channels until he came upon a news channel with 'breaking news'. The camera showed a fire engulfing an entire house as multiple people stood in a crowd nearby.
"As you see in the background, we see many firefighters trying desperately to put out the fire that, according to locals, was visible around an hour ago. Many also have stated they had heard multiple gunshots coming from the house prior to the fire breaking out. No one has been seen entering or leaving the house, according to local witnesses, which has many to believe that the inhabitants of the house to be dead." spoke the male reporter as he began cutting to various witness accounts. Hearing his cellphone ring, he pulled it out and read the caller I.D, before pressing accept.
"Well, well Lelouch, you certainly work fast, don't you?" spoke the lively voice of a woman. The rolled his purple eyes before responding to the eccentric woman.
"I like to view myself as efficient, Ms. Julianna, and eliminating that trash took little effort. I don't need a long and thought out plan if I'm just going to be killing street thugs and drug dealers." he responded before flipping to another channel.
"Whatever the case, your deposit will be sent to your account by tomorrow morning. Also, if your interested in taking a much more... long term job, I have one for you. And I'm sure you would love this one." she said in a suggestive tone.
"Do tell, why would I enjoy these jobs? Don't even tell me that you're sending me to Europe. God, I can't stand dealing those bureaucrats on the council." he spoke with dread. He remembered the last job he had taken, where he was sent to preform a string of assassinations across continental Europe. Speaking with politicians and the wealthy elite was almost even worse than dealing with a Britannia's nobles. Key word. Almost.
"No, surprisingly, this will take you to a certain Britannian area that I'm sure your familiar with..." she said suggestively. His eyes widened and he immediately stopped pressing on the controller.
"Do you mean...?" he asked hesitantly. He hadn't been to that place in along time, a place that was filled with memories that brought about a whole spectrum of emotions. It was where he had a true family, where he experienced true friendship and happiness, and where he had first received his training in martial arts. But it was also a place where experienced loss, regret and inner turmoil over his actions.
"Indeed. If you accept, we'll ship you off to the Tokyo Resettlement Area by tomorrow evening, where the first stage of the job will be. As per usual for long term missions, you'll be going on a need to know basis, so you'll get the first tid bits of your first job when you arrive. Do you accept?" she asked.
He didn't even think about it. He already had his answer.
(J.F.K International Airport - 7 P.M - Lelouch)
Lelouch sat aboard a large jumbo jet bound for Area 11. He sat on the window side, gazing at the various crews preforming their jobs and the planes already taking off and landing. The sun was setting over the horizon, and the skies were cloudless and the air was cool.
"Area 11... Japan..." he thought as a wave of memories washed over him.
"Welcome to Japan, your highness." a middle aged Japanese man spoke.
"Again!" yelled a stern looking soldier at a young scrawny child face deep in the mud.
"Big brother!" said a young girl in a wheel chair who's eyes were close.
"Look!" pointed a purple eyed boy at the Britannian bomber flying overhead,
Lelouch shook his head. Memories of long past were just that. Memories. Nothing more, nothing less. Thinking about them would just dig up old wounds that should've healed a long time ago.
"This is your captain speaking...", the voice over the intercom interrupted his inner thoughts, "...We'll be taking off here in just a moment, so just sit back and relax. We'll be landing in the Tokyo Resettlement Area in just under 8 hours, so lets hope for a smooth ride. Make sure your seat belts are fastened, and we'll be on our way."
He remembered the last time he flew to Japan. It was on a private jet, and was catered by chefs and personal butlers. That was before Japan had fallen to the Britannian war machine. That was when he was banished to that foreign place on the other side of the globe. He remembered the initial fear of being banished turning into an actual enjoyable experience.
Feeling the plane speeding down the runway and the plane soaring into the sky as the plane leveled itself. Lelouch stared out the window, looking at the clouds below while he pulled out a small tablet. He began typing his report on the elimination of the kingpin for his employer. The report mainly entailed about how many he killed, what actions he took and other data that would be used for future use and training.
Feeling his eyes grow heavy, he turned off his tablet and placed it into his carry on bag. Laying back into his seat, he pulled out two music buds and pressed into ears, playing some old jazz as he slowly fell to sleep.
Thanks for reading! Will be mainly updating my other stories now, so this one will probably be on the back burner for a bit. Thanks again, and have a good one!