Proctor of the Twilight Empire

by Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo

After Japan fell, an embittered Lelouch used his cunning and influence to start building his army; restarting the Ashford Foundation, gathering the support of Kyoto, and finding allies in the downtrodden nations subjugated by Britannian Imperialism. But the Emperor is no fool; he knows Lelouch is behind the sudden rise of Ashford, and the dangerous attention they're gathering.

1. The Prisoner, Act 1, Turn 1

Proctor of the Twilight Empire
The Wolf Returns, Wearing the Skin of a Sheep
Turn 1
My Rebellion That Would Have Been

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'Established in 1556 by the first ever female regent, Queen Mary the First, the Proctors became the epitome of fear throughout the empire. Despite only having been in power for three years, Queen Mary had developed a deep-seated paranoia of any remnants of the royal family –with possible exception to her half-sister Elizabeth- and the nobility. As such, she developed a secret police force with near limitless power and the objective to 'detain any who threaten the crown', to which she labelled 'Proctors'. However, despite the work of her Proctors, it was not a political enemy that felled the Queen labelled 'Bloody Mary', but instead her own body. As Elisabeth the First took the throne upon herself, she continued the use of the Proctors her half-sister established'

-Gregory Wilde, Excerpt from 'Encyclopaedia Britannia: Proctors', Published 2003 A.T.B

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Prince Lelouch Vi Britannia, Dishonoured
2011 A.T.B.
Mt. Fuji Sakuradite Mining Complex

The sound of my feet resounded in the massive hall, the wake of my regal gown whipping at my feet as I strode forward with long, measured steps. The royal purples of my attire burned bright in the dim light, casting the illusion of malevolence as I approached the podium ahead. Guards shifted uncomfortably as I passed, flinching at my very presence. I reached the threshold of the dais, my stance rigid and eyes burning. I grit my teeth as I looked upon the six carefully concealed heads of the Houses of Kyoto, before bowing my head in respect

"Oh? What is an exiled and presumably dead prince doing before the Six Houses of Kyoto?" The voice behind the left-most individual taunted from behind the silk cloth, his voice most clearly masculine. I sneered at the man, opting to ignore him as I turned my attention to the remaining members.

"I am here to propose a business alliance," I announced, the general atmosphere of the entire audience turning to surprise.

"And why should we not just turn you in to the Britannian Empire?"

I bore my eyes into the man third from the left, causing the man to shift uncomfortably behind his cover. After a tense second, I let out a sigh, my face twisting into a smirk, "You need me more than I thought if you do not even recognise the value in having a prince at your side,"

"You insolent little brat!" The left-most noble growled. I couldn't help the smirk that had yet to leave my face. Perfect. Violent mutterings began between the three mobile thrones to the left; this boy had just made an affront to their pride! It was unacceptable.

"You still have not given us a reason to not hand you back to the Emperor," I cocked my eyebrow at the speaker, the second from the right. I resisted the urge to break down in laughter as I recognised the voice, and he no doubt realised it as I spoke.

"As you are well aware, Taizo Kirihara, I was exiled here prior to the war. You would gain nothing from sending me to the emperor; he doesn't want me. However, despite my exile, I still have access to resources you would otherwise have unavailable," I reasoned, unable to hold back the feeling of smugness as I watched the members squirm. Taking advantage of the moment of confusion, I reached to my side and withdrew a large folio bound in a manila folder, "Besides, I have unquestionable proof of your involvement in the hiding and supplying of the remnants of the Japanese Military; need I remind you what the punishment for High Treason is?"

I was admittedly surprised when Kirihara began to chuckle at me, and frowned as it soon evolved into a full blown laugh. The other members nervously joined in, not entirely sure what was happening. When he finally stopped, a malicious grin took hold of his features, "I see that the only thing the war has changed is your thirst for blood!" He looked me write in the eye, a glint of pleasure prominent in the dark pupils. "What business do you bring forward to the Six Houses, young prince?" I let my features fall back to a harder, grave face, establishing my intentions succinctly.

"I am to live with the Ashford family for the next few years. The family still retains some of the key engineers of the Knightmare Frames they worked on prior to my mother's death," When slight concern flashed across their features, I raised my hand in a calming gesture, "You needn't worry, I will provide them with the funds to continue their work into advancing Knightmares and weaponry. What I plan to offer is to then forward the schematics to the Six Houses for your own uses," I offered to the greedy business men surrounding me. I watched with masked glee as the bodies of the six members tensed and quivered; they were hooked.

With a sigh of defeat, the members all conceded to me. "Very well; what is it that you request in exchange?"

The conditions had been met; victory was mine. My body relaxed in the slightest, my eyes gazing over the six businessmen with malicious glee.

"I only request the Six Houses' support in my future endeavours,"

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Prince Schniezel E. Britannia
June 15th, 2015 A.T.B
Weapon Test Site, Nevada Desert

"Now presenting Royal Protectorate Industries RPI-209 Gloucester Knightmare Frame," The announcement came out over one of the many speakers that lined the room, the booming voice echoing within the tight confines. I gazed out onto the barren, sandy field in front of me, guarded from the scorching heat by the thick, glass visor. I rested deeply into my throne, the comfortable silken seats making the test bunker somewhat bearable. Nobles seated in much smaller seats chattered incessantly, obviously excited to see what next generation Knightmare frame RPI will bring forward, considering the grand success of their Glasgow and Sutherland models. To my right was my ever present personal aide and confidante Kanon Maldini, his stance poised in polite attention to all of the nobility swirling through the room. To my left was my newest contractor, the rather eccentric, young (though still my senior) engineer, Earl Lloyd Asplund, who could not seem to withhold his excitement.

One of the presenters of the Knightmare came forward, obviously another noble judging by his immaculate garb and portly appearance. He addressed us with a faux, forced grace that only came off as clumsy and bloated, sweeping his arms in massive, theatrical gestures, selling the model as the newest generation of Knightmare frames. The nobility around me murmured in excited agreement as they watched, impressed by the specs that the salesmen spewed, the jargon going right over their heads. Lloyd listened in anticipation, taking in the data as it was fed to him, equal portions of amusement and scepticism evident on his face.

Though the Gloucester was obviously superior to the Sutherland, its specs only just barely trumped its predecessor, something I was not entirely convinced to pay double for. The entire demonstration was an act of arrogance, RPI obviously far too convinced in their ability to retain the title of the military's main arms manufacturer. Videos were displayed of the bulky machine as it zoomed along a majestic desert background, destroying all in its path in an appallingly romantic fashion akin to a military recruitment advertisement. The nobility about me were all looked hooked as the frame skewered another machine with its long, golden lance, enthralled by the new and improved Knightmare frame that ultimately brought nothing new to the field apart from a shiny, pointy stick. As the video ended, applause sounded throughout the hall, everyone -sans myself and party- impressed.

The speaker buzzed to life once more, the rich baritone of the presenter flooding the chamber.

"Our final participant in today's showcase is the ALI-14 Colchester Knightmare Frame, developed by Ashford Lamperouge Industrial,"

Sparks of scorn rippled throughout the amassed crowd; disdainful whispers on the credibility of a machine made in 'a country full of monkeys' flitted about the room. Vicious rumours that the disgraced Ashford's had taken the employ of Numbers in order to save their crumbling business empire ran rampant through the gathering, while others threw accusations of profiteering or embezzlement at the their name. Perhaps it was only I, but no one else seemed to take any notice of the fact that the business empire forged from the ashes of the old had taken up the late consort Marianne's maiden name as well as their own, something that would have them receive the contempt of the nobility.

Taking a mental note to have it investigated further, I watched on once more as a rather spindly man came forward. He bore none of the same forced extravagance as RPI's representative, nor did he clothe himself in the same finery. His clothes were droll, a simple grey business suit that melded with his equally grey hair. His sharp blue eyes hid behind thin steel framed glasses, while his angular face held stoic under the withering glares of the nobility.

"Good afternoon Lords and Ladies," He spoke unwavering, his monotone both dull and captivating, "I am here to present not only ALI's newest Knightmare frame, but any and all accompanying parts. I will spare the details of the machine itself in favour of a demonstration instead."

The man took his bow, vacating his position to reveal the sandy desert once more. Earl Asplund to my side shifted slightly, eyes glued to the screen; something you would expect from a man inspired by the creations of this very company. Kanon had lost interest long ago in the Knightmares, something I could understand entirely, and had instead opted to revise my upcoming schedule. I resisted the urge to sigh, wishing vaguely that I didn't have to be here; I have far more pressing matters than to watch some mechanics show off their latest toys when it was already clear that RPI had, once again, taken home the gold.

The buzzer sounded, and eight Sutherland frames dropped from their VTOL aircraft onto the pseudo battlefield, their slash harkens lowering them to the ground with controlled speed. Their landspinners hit the floor and the machines moved into a tight formation, 30mm rifles aimed out at all directions. The viewing screen lit up with the profiles of the test pilots, tagging themselves to the respective Knightmares, displaying their experience in Knightmare combat –all battle-hardened veterans- as well as their average synchronisation with the machine they piloted; all scored roughly around eighty-seven per cent , all skilled pilots, to be sure. At the very bottom of the screen, almost out of view was a ninth profile, this of a relative rookie by comparison, armed with only an eighty-three per cent synchronisation rate. To anybody looking upon the statistics, it would seem a hopeless match for the individual tester. My interest piqued, and I found myself compelled to watch the upcoming battle. Earl Asplund seemed to have a similar mind, humming in amusement.

"Now introducing the Colchester Knightmare Frame, Duelling Variant!" and for a few brief seconds, nothing happened. Asplund waited with bated breath, and I concurred with him; yet nothing came.

Then, like the hammer of gods, a shimmer slammed into the ground with a resounding thud, causing the dust to cascade into the air. Several of the nobles snorted derisively, not bothering to hide their amusement at the mishap. The Sutherlands moved into an attack formation, spraying massive metal slugs into the encroaching dust cloud with swift and precise attacks. To any and all concerned, the battle was over. With a sense of finality, the dust began to settle once more, and all that was left on the battlefield was the iconic royal purple Imperial Sutherlands. Lloyd pouted in disappointment, and I myself frowned slightly, not moving until the results had been called despite the many nobles already moving for the door.

A massive bang suddenly filled the air, shaking the soundproof bunker and reverberating the massive screen. The speakers crackled as they tried to dampen the massive sound. All attention was immediately drawn back to the screen, where a slightly magnified image of a Sutherland, sans the lower left side of its body, was thrown back into the dust, landing on the left shoulder with enough force to crack the earth under it. The ejection pod activated, skittering across the earth as the frame went up in flames. The remaining Sutherlands immediately dispersed, surrounding the crater in the centre, and spreading their numbers simultaneously. The nobility within the bunker scanned the scenery, looking for the cause of the attack. What they failed to see, however, was that the attack came from the one place they failed to look; the crater of the 'dead' machine. It was the tiniest flicker of movement, something only the keen eye could see.

Rising from the dust of the crater, coated in the very earth itself, was a warrior automaton. Though it sat at a half metre shorter than the enemy surrounding it, it held itself with certain poise, menacing to those around it. It was thin in nature, lacking the solid build of the Knightmare before it in favour of a more modular design, the segmented carapace plates bound to the almost skeletal frame. In its thin hands was a long rifle, its black paint disguising with the dark ground. Its legs, while thicker than the rest of the body, still appeared thin in comparison to the machinations bent on assailing it. Unlike all the other machines, more startling than most other difference, was the lack of the landspinners rigged to the back of the legs. There was undeniable similarity between the body of this machine and that of the Ganymede Knightmare Frame -distinguished mostly by the angular, hexagonal faceplate, with sharp, diagonal eye slots- something that caused the scientist to my side to quiver with anticipation.

With the smoothest of motions, the machine spun on its heel and levelled the weapon at the furthest Sutherland, giving no warning before another massive shot was let loose. The projectile smacked into the ground a half metre in front of the machine with force enough to hurl the Sutherland into the air, now missing the base of its feet. The lead Sutherland attempted to take advantage of the Colchester's distraction, letting loose a volley of magnetically accelerated bullets. As if with the force of premonition, the Colchester discarded its long rifle and engaged some unseen wheels, propelling itself directly to the left and evaded the onslaught of bullet, a feat impossible for most conventional Knightmare. Swivelling with motored grace, the Colchester reached behind and withdrew another weapon, this one much more stout by comparison as the frame skimmed along the red ground with startling speed. The lead Sutherland who'd taken the shot engaged his own landspinners in reverse, retreating as fast as the machine could take him while his compatriots attempted to distract the newcomer with a hail of projectiles, to no avail. The Colchester rounded on the Sutherland, its mobility unmatched by the elder machine. Without any further warning, the Dueller Variant depressed the trigger, blasting the legs of the Sutherland in reminiscence of a buckshot to flesh and bone, toppling the machine as shrapnel and oils sprayed like viscera. The ejection pod blasted away as the frame detonated on contact with the ground.

A shot from an accompanying Sutherland found its mark upon the Colchester, carving into the segmented plate armour with ease and destroying the left elbow joint. Seemingly unhindered by the fact that the shot had incapacitated its arm, the Colchester dashed across the field, handheld cannon blazing continuously as it passed, taking out one, two, three more, the Sutherlands all but destroyed while their piloting pods deployed like fireworks. The final two Sutherlands regrouped, discarding their rifles and charging at the Dueller Variant with stun tonfa raised. I found myself enthralled, analysing the segmented plates of the Colchester for any sign of a close combat weapon in which to counter the tonfa. The Colchester zipped between the Sutherlands. The more skilled pilots in the elder machines took advantage of the situation, smashing their tonfa into the side of the Colchester with enough force to crack a Sutherland. The Dueller Variants light armour buckled slightly under the force, the left arm now dangling further down the side of the machine, but was otherwise unharmed by the pincer attack. The Colchester brought its arm above its head, the top of the vambrace disengaging from the rest of the armour, flicking on a hinge until the plate was extended past the hand in the shape of a massive blade protruding from the arm. With a smooth downward, diagonal swing, the blade carved through the Sutherlands armour with ease, severing the head through the neck and continuing past the shoulder until its entire right side was torn free. The momentum allowed the Dueller Variant to spin on its heel, levelling its arm at the remaining Sutherland, who'd used its compatriot's demise to stage an escape, and fired the blade as a slash harken, the armour propelling itself into the Sutherland and sending its delicate Sakuradite core into overload.

The Colchester now stood in the middle of an empty field, the eviscerated remains of eight Imperial Sutherlands lying in blazing wrecks, their piloting pods splayed across the field. The hexagonal face with its slanted eyes looked around the field with an almost human quality, pleased somewhat with its work. Satisfied, the damaged machine began to fold in on itself, the spitting image of its predecessor, the MR-1, until it compacted nicely to the floor, the pilot popping out of his pod, waving to the crowd of nobles as he easily stepped onto the earth beneath him without the need to lower himself by a cable. Earl Asplund cackled in joy, bouncing in his seat excitedly at the Ashford's newest toy. Though I may not have shown it outwardly, I could say that Asplund's feelings were not too far from my own.

The announcer came forward once more, hints of amusement prevalent on his slim face. "As you can see, the ALI-14 Colchester frame greatly outclasses the RPI-11 Sutherland Knightmare Frame," The screen lit up behind him and he side stepped to allow us to view what had just come into view. A VTOL carrier was picking up the damaged frame while five identical craft dropped off more of the compacted frames. As the VTOL aircraft lifted off once more, the compacted frames rose in unison, all varying to slight degrees. From left to right, they stood at attention in ascending order of armour, from the bare frame to the left, to the thickly armoured menace at the right. "The Colchester Frame was designed to be upgraded from the bottom up. The left most Knightmare Frame," He started, pointing at the bare frame, "is the base model of the Colchester, and possesses no weapon or armour of any kind. Upgrades are easily available in kits, and are incredibly easy to fit, providing the greatest versatility for any situation," The announcer explained as the four other frames were magnified on the screen, "The primary kits are the Dueller, Warfighter, Riot Control, and Special Operations," The images identified each one, tagging the frames with their kit designation, the Warfighter being the most heavily armoured and armed with a High Impact Shell Cannon, which I presumed as a bazooka, followed by the Riot Control variant armed with a 20mm SMG and riot shield, then the Dueller with its Scatter Cannon , the shotgun-type weapon utilised in the demonstration and finally the Special Operations with the 45mm Anti-Knightmare Rifle, labelled the 'Longshot'. "However, this does not limit the customisation of the Colchester, as any and all parts from any kit are fully compatible with the standard frame and any other parts. New kits are consistently being developed, so need not worry if you do not favour any of the current combat kits."

The man continued to sell the machine to the other nobles, listing specifications on the machine, from its smoother operating system that allowed even lower ranked pilots to navigate the machine with extreme ease to the faster reaction speeds between the pilot's commands and the machine itself thanks to something the presenter labelled the 'Intuitive Movement Index'. Though some of the more conservative nobles were adamant in their refusal of the machine, most in the room were sold. I didn't bother listening to any more of what the presenter had to say; I'd already put in an order for enough Knightmares to completely swap out my entire personal force.

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Emperor Charles Z. Britannia
August 24th, 2015 A.T.B
Imperial Palace, Emperor's Personal Workshop, Pendragon

I squared my broad shoulders as I gazed out upon the cloudy horizon, lit by the gentle orange hues of dusk. My royal purple waist coat flapped idly as the breeze softly brushed past me. The archaic platform I stood on ebbed with untold power, power yet to be tapped into. My hard face softened ever so softly as the energy cascaded off me, tickling through my white hair. My exhaustion and frustration faded with every moment I stood here. My eye lids grew heavy, and I was more than happy to indulge the sensation. If someone were to ask to describe the setting about me, peaceful would be the most apt description. Oh how ironic, considering just what this device was designed for.

Any more musings of the such were quickly abandoned when the breeze shifted slightly, alerting me to the presence of another. My peripheral vision informed me all that I needed to know.

"What news do you bring, Bismarck?" I queried half-heartedly, not even deigning to turn to face him. I admit I was transfixed on the shifting cloudscape, the soothing power pulsing through the atmosphere.

"It is as you thought, your majesty. It would seem your exiled son, Lelouch vi Britannia has been hiding under the guise of a commoner school boy in Area Eleven. The Ashford's have been hosting him for the past five years. We have not been able to locate Princess Nunnally."

I sighed sadly as the shrine's energy stopped flowing, the fatigue setting into my bones once again. I turned and marched to the exit. "Was that all, Bismarck?" I asked behind me.

Bismarck, who was trailing just a few steps behind me, hesitated briefly. "It has been discovered that Lelouch was instrumental in the reestablishment of the Ashford Foundation, now known as Ashford Lamperouge Industrial."

"And?" I asked, standing at the control podium that would shut off the Thought Elevator.

"Ashford Lamperouge Industrial just beat out Royal Protectorate Industries for the distinction of being the Britannian Military's main arms manufacturer. The company has grown exponentially, subsuming all other competitors into the fold of the company. There are only a few other manufacturers left in Area Eleven that have not submitted to ALI."

I grinned at the thought of the boy reorganising that shamble of a company as I toyed with the archaic controls, an ancient doorway embellished with an avian sigil sat looming, the behemoth doors parting for me. I stepped through, the pleasant, peaceful cloudscape replaced by the oppressive maze of technology of the imperial palace's inner sanctum, lit by artificial light, the faint hum of motors permeating the air. I frowned at the change, but continued nonetheless. Bismarck passed through the door silently, keeping pace with me.

"Do you believe that he is scheming something?"

Once more, the Knight of One broke stride, considering the thought for a moment, before reluctantly answering. "Lelouch has always been known for his audacity and tenacity. The fact he survived the conflict in Area Eleven intact, let alone the fact that he forged a business conglomerate from the ashes of a disgraced family says much in his defence. He has always been much like yourself in that respect, my sire." He paused briefly, considering his words carefully.

A small chuckle came to my lips, Bismarck's words striking true. "Very well; I suppose it is time to bring my wayward son back into the fold."

I turned to him, my face set in grim satisfaction. "Send Monica Kruszewski to collect him. I want Lelouch in Pendragon before the end of the week."

Bismarck bowed deeply, the white cloak draped over his shoulder rustling in response to the rapid movement. "Yes, your majesty."

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Codename: Yaoling
August 24th, 2015 A.T.B
Imperial Palace, Security Database, Pendragon

I held my breath as I plunged into the room, the ventilation acting as my entrance. With a slick fluidity, the guards mounted at their desk were discarded to the floor with swift kicks to their heads, weapons strewn about them. Another guard at the door brought his weapon to bear on me, only to be halted in his stride as a blade lodged itself in his throat. He crumbled to the floor, blood pumping from his punctured throat with a decreasing rhythm, pooling around his navel in the loose folds of clothing. I retrieved the knife from my victim, wiping the blood away on the sleeve of the dead soldier and sheathing it.

Discarding any further distraction, I strode over to the multiple monitors on the opposite wall, USB in hand. Pulling up the seat of one of the unconscious victims, I began to work my way through the multitude of files stored in the database. My fingers flew across the keys, typing in one recovered password after another, breaching security one stroke at a time. As the last layer of protection fell, I rammed the USB into one of the many ports, the data extraction tools immediately tearing into the files with unrequited ferocity, the small device beaming up the data to an unregistered satellite and copying it all to a node somewhere in Japan. Or that's what I was told, at least.

As the device did its work, I opened the map I kept stored on my phone, finding my way back out. The ducts were no longer an option, getting in was difficult enough; going through the ordeal in reverse wasn't something I was too fond of. That left the main halls, which were heavily guarded. I needed a path where few guards went, information not provided by my employer. I frowned, letting my arm fall to my side, phone in tow. A thought came to mind, and I dropped down to the dead officer. My small, childish hands ran along his corpse, searching for any obstruction. When my hands eventually snagged on a larger object, I ravenously tore through the clothing until the object came into view; a small interactive data pad.

I sighed in relief as I activated the palm-sized pad, the small screen displaying the movements of all the guards. I began to transfer the data onto my own device, doing my best to memorise the patterns; it was simple enough. As the download completed, I slipped the little thing into my belt, making sure it was turned off. Looking back at the monitors, I still had a few minutes before the USB finished extracting the data, leaving me just enough time to cover up the dead body.

Two minutes later, I was striding out of the room wearing an oversized uniform, my thumb playing with the detonator I had in hand. As I moved to a safe distance, I flicked the switch. An explosion erupted, and fire spewed from the room, lighting the dark corridor in a split second, the flames nearly licking at the two living guards I'd bothered to drag outside the room; making sure to leave behind some evidence of wrongdoing. I don't know about most places, but drinking on the job and causing a gas explosion were generally not looked too kindly upon.

Nearby guards began to yell as they scrambled to investigate the explosion. I ducked into the shadows, hiding away from the distracted gaze of the soldiers. I may be wearing a disguise, but that was no excuse to go sauntering through the halls without a care.

It was nearly a full hour later –mostly thanks to having to evade the guards all throughout the Imperial Palace grounds- as I ducked into the old dungeon, a part of the palace most guests weren't aware still existed. According to my maps, there was a broken down sewage pipe that led straight into an abandoned treatment complex way outside the city. Why they hadn't already destroyed these security breaches, I don't know; perhaps they are an escape route for the royalty? The dungeon was filthy, the walls –all cobblestone- cracked and dusty. Rotten wood hung overhead, threatening to give way at the smallest provocation. The air was damp and mouldy, and I fought the urge to cough as the musty, untouched air filtered into my throat. The faint sounds of scurrying could be heard as the feral rodents scampered to their hidey holes. A typical, dingy dungeon.

I stalked down the stairs, my stance relaxing slightly. I slipped my knife back into its sheath, my fingers instead playing with the fine sidearm holster at my hip. There shouldn't be any guards in here, but it never hurts to be weary when behind enemy lines. The stairway descended deeper into the depths of the palace ground, the moist air chilling me to my bones. The loose uniform I wore shuffled uncomfortably, clinging to my damp, smooth skin. Goosebumps formed on the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine in forewarning; something was wrong.

As the corridor opened up, I was affronted with the sight of a burly, pale man, filled out with muscle and wrapped in an immaculate, white suit, trimmed with gold. Upon his shoulder rested a deep blue cape, golden swirls wrapping along the navy surface. His heavy set features were laced with light wrinkles, his chin and head dusted with stubble. Turquoise eyes stared intently at the mouth of the staircase, the threat of death poorly concealed. A maroon longsword, the thick blade easily a metre long, rested in his left hand, the jewels encrusting the surface gleaming in the dim light. I continued down cautiously, knowing he'd already spotted me. My knuckles were white as my grip tightened on the pistol hanging from my hip.

"I am glad you had the sense to come out into the open; a game of hide and seek would have been a waste of both our time." He started, moving towards me, the intimidating weapon scraping along the ground. "To think that a mere child –not yet even a teenager- managed to break into the highest security facility in the world; you nearly got away with it, too."

I merely grunted in acknowledgement, my hand still toying with the pistol at my side.

"You know who I am, don't you boy?" He queried, drawing even closer now.

I shrugged, diverting my eyes in disinterest as the distance shortened further. He frowned at my apparent lack of interest

"I am Nicholas Desoe, Knight of Seven. I am here to arrest you for the murder of Jack Lawson, Officer of the Royal Guard, as well as the theft of classified documents."

His weapon was nearly in reach now. I looked about in feigned confusion, pretending to not have a clue what the man was talking about. Incensed by my ignorance, he lunged at me, the large weapon sweeping in a perfect arc, decapitation imminent. I ducked under the blade, drawing my pistol and taking aim at his chest. As I pulled the trigger, his body contorted, the bullet missing him completely. Taking advantage of his momentum, he swivelled on the balls of his feet, the blade cleaving straight through the gun in my hand.

I jumped back, the maroon weapon narrowly missing my hand. The knight continued his assault, charging me again with the broad weapon. I ducked to the side as he took a diagonal swing, the massive force slashed mere centimetres away from my face. With a flick of my wrist, a throwing knife went slicing through the air, only to be knocked aside by the burly knight's weapon.

Taking the initiative, I charged forward myself, striding within the effective range of the weapon. The knight stumbled slightly, unsure how to deal with me within his perimeter; obviously a believer in a strong offense. With slick agility, I retrieved a long dagger strung under my arm, plunging the weapon into his thick left bicep. He growled in pain, grabbing at my neck with his massive right hand. I barely dodged out of the way, ducking under his arm, running the sharp blade along his calf and up his back as I appeared behind him. Roaring in pain, he swung the weapon overhead, spinning around and bringing it down where I had been, only for me to dive backwards in evasion. As I rolled back to my feet, I found myself nose to nose with the brutish knight, the blood leaking heavily from his moderate wounds. His large right hand knocked my dagger from my hand, while his left formed a death grip around my neck, lifting me from the ground.

My neck and jaw screeched in agony, my lungs crying for oxygen. I gurgled for air, only for him to tighten his grip. With a scowl, the man tore a large combat knife from a holster on his belt, bringing it to bear on my stomach.

"I would have preferred to take you in alive, but your blatant disrespect for those you slew has forced my hand."

I brought my knee up, sinking the bone into his rib cage with enough force to snap a rib. As he growled in pain, I tore the hunting knife from his hand and ravenously stabbed at his arm thrice, causing him to drop me. I rolled to my feet and brought myself back around, his howls of pain ringing in the shallow halls. I took a deep breath to recover myself, pain shooting through my neck as I gasped for air. The knight of seven seemed to have recovered, and now clung onto his longsword with his right hand, his left arm completely incapacitated now. I watched him intently as he approached me, my fingers toying with a thin metal cable hidden within my sleeve, hooking the clasp at the end onto the length of the cable. He stumbled forward, fury cascading off his body. My breath caught in my throat.

A bloodcurdling roar escaped his lips as he lunged again, the maroon blade cleaving through the air. I leapt at the last second, launching myself up and onto the blade itself, before bouncing onto his shoulder as quickly as I could. The cable fell from my sleeve, the metallic lasso slipping under his chin. With one final, massive bound, I was launched into the air. I plummeted through the air, the cable trailing behind me, up and over one of the rotten braces. I began to drop, the cable pulling taut in my hands, yanking my arm painfully as the Knight was violently torn from the surly bonds of earth.

The strain was too much; I knew that immediately. Without a second of warning, the cable snapped with an impressive crack, shredding the skin on my arm with ease, causing the two of us to drop to the floor with a massive thud. The wood overhead snapped, letting a portion of the roof collapse with us. I lay on my back for a moment, panting heavily as I massaged my right shoulder, trying to dissipate the pain from being nearly dislocated. My heart stopped in my chest as I heard gurgling. I raised my head slowly, fighting through the rubble, fear clenching at my insides. Eventually my eyes laid upon the Knight of Seven as he grasped at his throat, blood drenched all through his white tunic. He gasped desperately, only to choke on the blood.

I crawled over to him, over the crumbled rock and wood, his combat knife gripped tightly in my hand. I brought myself up to him, remorse flitting through my system.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, the knife slicing through the soft flesh of his neck with ease and killing him instantly.

I brought myself up and dusted myself off. Blood soaked the sleeve of the uniform, staining the plain grey outfit, something I'd have to deal with as I came out the other side.

I was halted in my place as the stairway creaked. Emerging from the shadows, two figures marched, both clad in pure white suits, capes draped on their shoulders. The first to arise from the shadows was a svelte woman, her black hair tied neatly in a pony-tail, a scowl prominently etched onto her dark features. Standing just behind her was a well-built powerhouse of a man, his dark skin contrasting with his white and gold uniform. His left eye remained shut, but his right observed me intently.

"An impressive display; it is not often a Knight of the Round is felled in battle, even less common for the victor to be a mere child. You are no doubt a warrior worthy of respect" The man spoke, his rich voice cutting through the air. I held my tongue in response, levelling the combat knife at him instead. He frowned, his hand falling down to the sword at his hip. "Please discard your weapon and turn yourself in. You may have been able to best a Knight of the Rounds, but you are injured and drained now. Even if, through some miracle, you were able to best me and Duchess Ernst, there is a small army of elite guard waiting to apprehend you both here and at the pumping station you would use to escape. You would not be able to fight your way through all of them in your current state."

Duchess Ernst only snorted derisively, obviously not agreeing with the Knight of One's respectful approach; I couldn't help but to agree with her. Even as he spoke, I found my willpower draining. My thoughts were becoming hazy. Blood was flowing heavily from my wounds, dripping onto the floor with a rhythmic splash. My vision was blurring over.

The thick-bodied knife clattered to the floor. I bowed my head, bringing my wrists together in front of me. I was no warrior, not some magnificent soul pledged to a code. I had no creed telling me to engage in do or die resistance. To these people, I was nothing more than an assassin, and assassins were selfish beings. There was nothing I would do to redeem such an image, so why not play along? Die here, or live to fight another day, no?

"Very well." I muttered, the cold, hard metal cuffs were slammed around my wrists, digging into the torn flesh painfully. Looking up, I found myself staring into the blaring, vengeful eyes of Duchess Ernst. It was then I knew.

No matter what I did, she would make sure that I died for my transgressions. I didn't bother to mention that she would have to catch me first.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
Lelouch Lamperouge
August 24th, 2015 A.T.B.
Benegorde Manor, Tokyo Settlement

My long, spindly fingers wrapped delicately around the smooth, black granite piece, the beautifully defined curves and notches gently digging into my flesh. My face showed no semblance of emotion as I slid the piece forward, knocking down the intricately crafted counterpart to my piece over with a swift motion. My deep violet eyes bore into my competitor, watching as his chubby features contorted, warping from bemusement to terror. The white queen toppled; her beautiful ivory body crashed to the ground with a resounding thud. Horror seeped onto the insipid noble's façade, breaking any semblance of the cool, arrogant CEO that had boasted his tactical prowess, nor the blustering margrave who had been willing to bet his inheritance against the aloof school boy who'd had the misfortune to stumble into his halls for a game. No, all that was left in front of me was a broken man, stripped of what dignity he had and left under the callous and judgemental eyes of his peers whom he'd invited to watch.

"Checkmate," I called. Lords and ladies, all benefactors of the man before me, began to whisper amongst themselves, desperately trying to comprehend the situation before them. The tycoon bowed his head, horror being replaced by grief. Pushing my advantage, I leaned over to where Rivalz was seated, grabbing the folder from his grasp as he stared dumbfounded at the immaculate board seated on the table. I went through the documents in the folder with abundant nonchalance, making carefully sure to take my time. Sometimes victory on the field was not enough to ensure true victory; humiliation was what was needed to succeed against these particular foes. Securing the document I'd been after –and had brushed past a few times for extra measure- I handed it to the tycoon.

"As per the contract signed prior to starting this game, you must sign over Benegorde Munitions and all assets pertaining to the company and benefactors of the company to Ashford Lamperouge Industrial," Angry hisses passed through the crowd. No doubt they were upset to find that the detestable man had not only gambled with his future, but theirs as well. I kept my bored façade in place as the pen scratched into the paper, leaving its inky mark, the dejection evident in the man's stroke. As his chubby hand loosened its grip on the pen, I stood in my place, extending my own hand in courtesy. "A pleasure doing business, Lord Benegorde," When the man made no move to accept my hand I shrugged, retracting it and instead gathered all of the documents and reinserted them in their binder.

With nothing more than a nod of my head, I took my leave. Rivalz remained rooted to the ground, his eyes blatantly betraying his shock. I strolled past him, hands in my pockets with the file neatly tucked under my arm, no haste to my actions. "Come along, Rivalz. We'd best get back to the academy. Milly will have my head if we're late to another meeting," I joked, smiling politely. The blue haired boy shook himself out of his stupor, turning and running to catch up to me. We continued walking for a brief period before Rivalz gave a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his head anxiously.

"Damn, buddy; you were completely ruthless in there. That noble didn't even stand a chance,"

I nodded as I watched him from my peripheral. "Yes; it was hardly any competition," I sighed in agreement, "In all honesty, it is becoming tiring have to deal with these self-obsessed, conceited nobility. They never put up much of a fight."

Rivalz anxiety seemed double in that second, his eyes widening in fear, "That's dangerously close to slander, buddy. You sure it's safe to be saying that sort of thing around here?"

I waved off his concern, waltzing out the massive arch doorway as the heavy oak door was held open for me by the manservant. "He has no way to tell the authorities. If he were to report us, he would be interrogated as to why there were two Britannian students at his house during school hours. No matter your title, receiving charges of misconduct with minors doesn't sit well in most social groups,"

A sly grin took its place on Rivalz face, and he gave me a knowing wink, "Oh, I see! Very sneaky!"

I gave a small grunt of acknowledgement as I reached my friends motorcycle, gracefully flopping into the side cart. I opened up the small glove box and stowed the documents, retrieving my book in its stead. I felt the slight shift as Rivalz took his place on the bike; with a twist of the key, the bike begun to purr, the chassis humming in vibration, and we were off. The breeze brushed the shaggy black hair that slipped through my helmet as Rivalz zipped down the highway. I flipped the hardback novel in my hand to my previous position, reading through it with vigour. This continued for a few more moments before I heard Rivalz clear his throat.

"Hey, Lelouch?"

"Yes?"

"If you find the nobility so easy to beat, why don't you give yourself a handicap or something?" He queried, watching me curiously. I flipped the page of my book, considering the question for a moment.

"Because when dealing with not only your own future, but others as well, you should always work to the best of your ability; underestimating the enemy is a sure way to lose everything. Lord Benegorde underestimated me because I was only a student, and now his company now belongs to Mister Ashford," I answered, my attention still drawn to the philosophy in my hands

"Huh, I guess that makes a lot of sense," Rivalz remained quiet for a moment more, before turning to me with an ear splitting grin, "I still can't believe that Mister Ashford uses you as his 'business associate'; talk about high stakes gambling! I don't know anybody else who can buy entire companies without a single cent,"

I smiled at his comment, bringing my eyes up from the book. "It's certainly more thrilling that way, don't you think?"

Rivalz nodded vigorously in agreement, returning his attention to the road ahead. "It's definitely the coolest job I know. You basically have the power to make entire business empires crumble and rise at will, and nobody knows you're even there! Like some kind of hidden mastermind pulling the strings!" He exclaimed jovially, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration don't you think? I'm just Mister Ashford's consultant for when he is too busy to manage his rising empire and his school at the same time, after all."

"Geez, so humble; who'd have ever thought you wouldn't immediately jump at the chance to boost your ego?" He snickered, sporting a crooked grin.

I rolled my eyes, reverting my attention back to the book in my hand. "Yes, well, even god-like beings such as I need to be humble sometimes, lest our heads get too big and explode," I replied sardonically, letting the cool, dry sarcasm drip from my words. Rivalz just burst out in laughter, not able to form another coherent sentence for the rest of the journey home.

Rivalz motorcycle pulled into the immaculate courtyard of the Ashford Academy, dropping me off at the main hall of the administration building. Making sure that the documents were tucked firmly under my arm, I strolled into the admin complex. The beautiful granite floors gleamed as the light shone through the immaculate steel doors, illuminating the pale yellow walls. I strode forward with measured steps, file still tucked tightly under my arm. I flashed a polite smile to the receptionist, who returned the gesture in kind. "Is Mister Ashford here?" I queried. The receptionist gave a small nod, "I'll inform him that you are here,"

The wait was short before the inordinately decorated door to my side bellowed open. I watched on as an imposing figure, easily taller and wider than myself came out of the door. He had neatly trimmed golden hair, speckled with grey. His wide grin was obscured behind an equally blonde beard. "Ah, Lelouch my boy! Come in," He greeted, gesturing with his broad hand to the interior of his office. Nodding in respect, I followed his direction and moved into his office.

The room itself was, for lack of a better word, gaudy. Beautiful birch bookcases lined the walls, their shelves piled up with intricately designed finery. Golden awards hung from the red velvet walls, the light from the massive window in the back of the room causing the trophies and plates to glitter. I took my seat behind the massive desk, piled high with documents and fine stationary. The door closed behind me with a soft click, the heavy steps of Mister Ashford sounding as he approached his desk. "So how have you been Lelouch? I trust things have been well?" He asked as he moved around the heavy wooden desk.

I grinned as he took his seat, placing the file on top of his desk. "Things have been well. I'm sure you're already aware of my grades and outside of that there is very little to report." I replied nonchalantly.

Reuben gave a small frown at this, tapping his large finger onto the table. "Yes, I am completely aware of your grades," He gave a sigh before the smile returned to his face; "though I'm sure you aren't here to be berated for not achieving to your potential."

I chuckled slightly, crossing my legs and resting my chin on my hands. "Not if I can help it, Reuben."

The man let out a mighty bellow, clutching his chest. When he finally calmed down, we continued on, he handing me a document of some form. "This is the report of the last fiscal year,"

I briefly examined the document, taking note of the many expenses and revenues. As I'd predicted, the military products had sold phenomenally, as per usual, with our new mass production Colchester Knightmare Frames selling above all else, followed closely by Dueller Variant kits. My eyes drifted down to the bottom of the document, and I cocked my brow at the amounts displayed.

"That was my reaction as well," I heard Reuben say, his voice easily betraying the smile on his lips. The sheer amount of money was astounding, even by my standards. "It seems that Pendragon Headquarters has gained the favour of the military. We already have an order for several thousand top of the line Colchester Class Knightmares. I still can't believe we beat out Lord Helmi and his Gloucesters. Those certainly had some guts to them,"

Discarding the report onto Reuben's desk, I retook my former position. "Please, Reuben. You know as well as I that the Colchester out-specced the Gloucester easily. They provided smoother movements, faster reaction time, and were more easily adaptable to terrain and battle conditions for only slightly more than a Sutherland. The fact we used ceramics and plastics instead of the standard metal plating like Lord Helmi insisted only worked in our favour. You should have more faith in the R&D department; they know what they are doing,"

"I'd assumed that they were only exaggerating to make sure that they continued to receive funding," He jested, reclaiming the report and filing it away within his mountain of paperwork and turning to me, "So what did you bring for me today?"

I could feel my mouth twisting into a twisted, malicious smirk as I pushed the file containing Benegorde's submission, "Our most recent victory,"

"I can't believe you actually managed to convince Benegorde Munitions to sell out! They were the one of the largest arms manufacturer in Area Eleven," Reuben exploded excitedly, tearing through the file with voracity.

"I'm sure their factories will help produce the Colchester frames and components even faster." I replied, picking up the latest report from the R&D, labelled Project Firestorm; indulging their inner geek, I suppose. Reuben was still far to enamoured with the official submission to notice as I started to flick through it, making a mental note to investigate their current progress.

"And thanks to your business deal with the Mount Fuji mines and the Central Oceanic Wasteland, we have all the resources we need to completely reequip the half the world's military if we really wanted,"

"Perhaps that's the plan," I jeered with a wink, Reuben laughing it off as mere jest, completely unaware of the grains of truth in the statement. "I'll be heading over to the Tokyo Headquarters this evening to introduce the new engineers and scientists Benegorde was kind enough to donate, as well as inspect their current progress,"

"You are certainly collecting a selection of the best and brightest in the world; I'm just curious what you will do with them when you have more than even In Vogue," Reuben stated, leaning back into his chair comfortably. His jovial façade began to slip as he thought for a moment. "That being said, I am still uncertain whether or not you are mad in suggesting a fellow student and member of the Student Council for a position in the top research team."

"Nina is one of the most brilliant minds of this generation. When she is not working on harnessing the power of the Sakuradite atom, she is troubleshooting the new technology for our Knightmares. She will be an invaluable asset to the team."

Reuben sighed, jumping out of his chair and moving over to the immaculate wooden cupboard, whipping out a bottle of aged bourbon and a chilled glass. "You have more than made your case, Lelouch. I have no argument that can withstand any of your rebuttals. I'm just not sure that subjecting the girl to the harsh and competitive world of Knightmare development would be the best idea." He poured himself a glass and hesitated for a moment, turning to face me once more, "Drink?"

I shook my head politely, remaining firmly in place, "No thank you."

Reuben took a sip from his drink and swilled the contents within the crystalline cup briefly before moving back to his glossed, wooden chair. "Are you sure it is a good decision to subject that girl to that sort of environment, especially considering her rather rough history?"

"Yes, we are all aware of her rather fragile condition, though I believe firmly that it will increase her wellbeing being around scientists of the same calibre as her. As for the fact that our company believes in equal employment opportunities, who knows; the boost to her self-esteem and familiarisation with locals not intent on finding a hole to defile may even provide her with a more worldly perspective,"

"Or it could break her to even have to be around them," Reuben rebutted, obviously still not convinced. "Very well, Lelouch; I'll send her the recruitment forms tomorrow. I'll leave it up to you to make sure that the workplace remains hospitable."

"Of course; I am your liaison after all."

The course ringing of bells sounded the end of my free period, a fact that did not escape the burly, refined man ahead of me. He gave a jovial smile,

"Come along, Lelouch. I doubt my granddaughter will be pleased if you show up late to another meeting, especially if it was to talk business with me." He stood up, extending his hand in the same practised motions he used on the businessmen he dealt with. Taking his hand in a shake, I retrieved the files documenting Benegorde Munitions amalgamation with ALI, tucking them under my arm as well as those of 'Project Firestorm'.

I halted briefly, considering for a moment, before asking in hushed tones. "How is Nunnally?"

A look of feigned confusion passed over his face, a knowing glint to his eyes. "Nunnally? I don't know anything about a 'Nunnally'. Are you asking about my niece, Natalie?"

I gave him a blank stare, making obvious my displeasure at the little game. "Yes, Natalie; is she doing well?"

"Perhaps you should go ask her yourself? I'm sure she'd love to see you."

I frowned at the prod. "You know as well as I that I am putting myself at risk even helping your company," I paused briefly, averting my gaze, "I couldn't possibly risk her as well."

A massive hand clapped onto my shoulder, almost knocking me down. I turned, and found myself staring into dark, navy eyes. "You sure are acting protective of someone who is nothing more than a mere friend,"

He then let me go, and pushed me out the door politely, grin held impeccably on his face. "You'd best hurry, Lelouch. Not even I would be willing to risk Milly's wrath."

I strode out of the immaculate room and through the lavish halls, Reuben's words settling into my mind. The message itself was clear; I'd already hidden her, cutting her off wouldn't help her situation. No, what surprised me was the man's acting. Perhaps Milly took more after her grandfather than she would like to admit.

I exited the building and began to head for the Club House. It was of little surprise to find the activities were already in full swing, masses of people flowing back and forth throughout the expansive ground of the academy. Horses from the equestrian club hurdled over fences extravagantly. Boys and girls shuffled along the ground, delicately cultivating new plants within the lush soil. The yells and groans sounded over the campus, signifying yet another game of Rugby on the beautifully trimmed fields. Sparkles of light and crisp snaps and pops of fireworks filled the air. Just another day at Ashford Academy, I mused.

I quickly climbed the stairs to my residence, pushing the large wooden doors open gently. I sauntered up the stairs, paying no heed to the raucous, jovial commands of our 'president'; more like tyrant, I internally joked. I continued past the meeting room where Milly and the student council held their meetings, taking advantage of her distraction –teasing Shirley as she complained about my gambling; poor girl to be subjected to such wrath- and instead moving to my private quarters. As the door softly clicked behind me, I let out a massive sigh. No noise came from the many rooms of the apartment, and nobody came to view.

"Sayoko?" I called; one can never be too sure with ninjas, after all. No reply came.

Taking advantage of my isolation, I made my way to the bathroom. The dim lighting cast a welcoming glow off the pale cream walls, the gentle touch of mahogany granting an air of sophistication. My shoes clacked inaudibly on the granite tiles of the floor, the smooth surface glistening beneath my feet. I brushed past the other utilities within the spacious room, opting instead to focus on the vanity. Setting the file in my hand down beside the basin, I opened the cupboard underneath to reveal a plethora of lusciously scented soaps, bath salts, and other such items. My hand found the bottle I was after, the small keyhole in the top giving it away. I flipped it on its side and pushing it into the back of the vanity with a soft hiss before reaching into my breast pocket and withdrawing a key.

Slipping the key into its hole and turning produced a soft hiss that coursed through the wall, the grinding of gears and cogs punctuating the air. The wall, and the vanity in turn, depressed into the wall slowly before shifting to the right. A doorway now stood open to me, and I strode through it, file in hand once more. As I crossed the threshold of the room, the pseudo-door shut behind me. I was now ensconced in darkness, the familiar setting around me calming any of my frayed nerves despite the lack of any light. After groping on the wall for a moment, the lights came on.

The room itself was rather compact, bearing no decorations or aesthetics of any kind. The dull white, almost grey walls melded with the rows steel grey filing cabinets that took up the walls to either side of me, giving a somewhat oppressive feel to the room. Just ahead was a steel chair under a steel desk, the only things sitting atop the plain surface being a monitor with inbuilt camera and a starkly contrasting cream file, placed there by Sayoko; the kunai holding it in place being a clear indicator. After I deposited the file in my hand into one of the cabinets marked 'business', I moved over and took my place at the desk, discarding the kunai and reading the documents in the file.

'Nathaniel Statdfeld/ Naoto Kozuki'

Clipped to the top of the file were two pictures of young man with brilliant cerulean eyes and dull red hair draped and framing his face. He wore a classic tuxedo in the first image, laughing jovially with one of the many noblewomen at one of Clovis' many formal gatherings, a certain hollowness creeping from his eyes. The second image was nearly a direct contrast, with him wearing ragged, torn clothing and a red headband, his scowl permeating the air with distaste as he marched through the torn ghettos, handing out food and water with a fire in his eyes. Tearing my eyes from the photos of the compelling man, I began to browse over the dossier. He was certainly an interesting individual. His father, the great Earl Statdfeld, had married to a noble woman to hide his disgrace at having an affair with a Number but was now hiding in the Homeland to avoid her. His actual mother –a young Japanese woman- was subjugated by the Britannian rule and forced into servitude. His sister and he were forced to hide her heritage in order to survive. He was compelling, able to gather support amongst the Shinjuku Ghetto for his aid to the sickly and poor of the horrid place, as well as his defence of the people against abusive officers straying too far from their post. Not only that, but he had contacts within the nobility. All in all, exactly what a revolution needed.

I switched on the monitor, revealing nothing more than a standard desktop with a few files regarding ALI in the icons. I retrieved a small USB from my pocket and inserted it into the side of the monitor. When I finished inputting my password a second time, a feral grin crept onto my face. Within seconds, a video feed popped onto the screen, revealing a very old, very familiar Japanese man.

"Good afternoon, Mister Kirihara. I hope I am not imposing?" I queried diplomatically, receiving a cocked eyebrow from the man.

"There is no need for you to try and play me, Mister Lamperouge. Cut the formality and tell me what you want me to do." He mocked in turn, and I couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

"Straight to the point, as always, neh Taizo-san," I jeered, and was rewarded by a roll of the eyes from the elderly man, "But you are correct. I have called to inform you that I will be emailing the dossier of a potential 'associate' I am interested in hiring."

Kirihara frowned prominently in turn, his beady eyes staring me down, "It seems your arrogance has just escalated another echelon, Mister Lamperouge. You have no say in who Kyoto do and do not support,"

Kirihara, and by extension Kyoto, never knelt to brute force, so I kept to a more cunning tact, my ruthless façade shifting a more neutral and professional one. "I am well aware of that, Mister Kirihara. However, I think he will be a valuable asset in the future," I proposed nonchalantly, tempting him with yet another toy.

Kirihara cocked his eyebrow, scepticism evident within his wrinkly features, though an almost undiscernible gleam of interest lit his dark eyes. "And how do you propose they will help our resistance?"

"At the very least he can act as a recruitment officer. Despite the smallness of his group, he has managed to garner the support of the Shinjuku Ghetto. Given the chance, he could gain the support of the rest of the outlying ghettos," I explained casually, finding a pen to twiddle absent-mindedly, "However, he is also the half-breed son of Earl Statdfeld, one of the few businessmen with links to Japan not in my pocket."

"Very well, Mister Lamperouge; I will review these personnel reports," Kirihara answered dismissively, his dark, beady eyes finding something else more interesting to occupy himself with, "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, in fact. I would like a progress report on the schematics I'd sent to Miss Chawla to revise. I will be heading to the ALI Foundry this afternoon."

He shuffled for a moment, toying with the computer in front of him. "She resubmitted the schematics just this morning, not without complaining about none of the devices were working properly. I had taken the liberty of reading them, but I am afraid I don't understand advanced particle physics. What even is the purpose of these devices you have her working on?"

A knowing grin stretched across my face, "You'll have to wait and see, Mister Kirihara. The details of the Gefjun project would be lost on most; even I have difficulty understanding the theory behind it. But rest assured, as it will undoubtedly give whoever uses it a distinct advantage in Knightmare Combat."

"So then is it truly wise for you to bring these schematics back to a Britannian company?" Kirihara queried concernedly.

"You seem to forget, Taizo; the company, while formally belonging to Mister Ashford, is under my direct control," I reminded, receiving a small nod of concession from the man. "Besides, trading the technology between our engineers has advanced their production by several years. Without ALI, your technology would still be lagging behind the Britannians; you would probably still be outfitting those Glasgow rip-offs."

"I suppose that is true. Though the Burai's certainly had a distinct charm to them," Kirihara paused for a moment, looking over the screen and having a brief conversation with some unknown party. When he turned back to me, a vicious glint of joy was more than prevalent in his decrepit features. "I am now looking on the report of the latest JLF engagement. You'll be pleased to hear that they were successfully able to both destroy the Hyogo Military Base as well as commandeer several Imperial Sutherlands and other military hardware. Most of the other members of Kyoto are a little upset that you had made the right choice in attacking the base when you said to, and your plan secured a quick victory for us."

"Yes, well, Kyoto are businessmen first and foremost. Military strategy is not their strongest suit," I replied, "They should just accept that and allow me to do my part."

Kirihara scoffed slightly in response, "They don't like that a Britannian is commanding their forces,"

I rolled my eyes, still fiddling with the pen, "If they showed an inkling towards strategic command, I wouldn't be forced to take on the role as a petty 'informant'."

"Don't misunderstand, Lelouch. I have known you since before the war. You have always had a knack for the finer points of strategy. They, on the other hand, only see you as a spoilt boy trying to play war."

"Oh? And someone doesn't think that?" I retorted, haughty smirk playing at my lips.

Kirihara smirked slightly in response. "No, I believe that you are the best chance this resistance has. Were it not for you, I have no doubt that the JLF would be nothing more than a rabble of desperate soldiers driven to terrorism,"

"I only act as an informant, Taizo,"

"But you are the one directing the flow of these battles; all the soldiers know that. Besides, I have no doubt that you will take up the mantle of commander sometime in the near future." He paused for a second, frown settling onto his aging face. "On the topic of informants, I have just received word that OSI agents have been snooping about Tokyo lately,"

My reaction mimicked his own, and I toyed with the pen once more. "Yes, Sayako noticed some strange men wandering about campus lately. I'll have her follow one of them and identify their objective."

"You had best be careful, rogue prince. Despite what the other members might say, you, and ALI by extension, have proved invaluable in our resistance,"

"You needn't worry about such matters, Taizo. The only evidence of my transactions with Kyoto are safely stored in this room, and there are contingencies in place to make sure that they never fall into hands other than mine or Sayako's."

"For your sake as well as mine, I hope that you are corr-"

When I heard the door to my room slam open, I habitually jumped from my seat and moved my body to cover the screen. The faintest sounds of a certain buxom blonde president came seeping through and into my sanctum as she called out for me, a testament to the strength of her voice considering how soundproofed this particular sanctum was. No doubt Rivalz was back and had told them I was as well. I spun back around, facing the elderly man once more "I am afraid I have to go. Send my regards to the other members of Kyoto," I politely explained before hastily cutting off the video feed.

Milly's voice grew louder as she began to trample her way through the room. I inwardly ran through my options; I could just sit in here and wait for the whole thing to blow over? No, she was too damn persistent. She'd tear apart the entire building searching for me. Leaving now would mean I would be dragged into whatever it was she was planning. That was a possibility, though not preferable. It may also reveal this room to her; unacceptable. I could wait for her to leave the room in search of me elsewhere. No, it would take too long, and the risk of being caught too high.

A plan came to mind, and I shifted towards the door. With deft hands, I removed my jacket and ruffled my appearance. Inserting the key and twisting, the gears began to whir once more. As soon as a gap opened, I slipped through into my bathroom, the sensors picking up my movement and halting the door in its place. I untucked my shirt, and made sure to look properly dishevelled, black streaks marked on my clothes from the door. By the sounds of things, Milly had heard the door, as she now came stomping over to the bathroom. The door slid shut finally, and I leant down into the vanity, pretending to busy myself with the pipes underneath.

With an almost earth shattering slam, the door to the bathroom flew open, a tall, curvy blonde standing in the doorway wearing a cheeky grin.

After awkwardly explaining to Milly, Rivalz and Shirley (who'd all tagged along) as to what I was doing and what had caused the sound –supposedly, I'd come to wash myself off when I found the basin wasn't working, and had attempted fix it when I knocked something, causing the ominous sound- I was ushered forcefully into the student council room, Rivalz and Shirley in tow.

"Hello Lelouch! How are you today?" Came the bubbly voice of a young red-head, dressed in the standard pink dress of the middle school, standing at the side of the bookcase. She smiled gently, her eyes shut in a painfully permanent manner that tore at my heart. To her right stood the ever vigilant Sayako, the Japanese maid tasked to caring for her in her blinded state. Obviously, she'd heard me talking to Milly, else she wouldn't even know who was standing in the door. With every step she took, a faint whir sounded, the medical exoskeleton attached to her thin legs keeping her upright. Eventually, with the help of Sayako guiding her, she made her way over to the desk again, braille book held tightly in her thin hands.

"Ah, hello Natalie; I trust all is well?"

She gave a vibrant nod, her gentle smile growing larger. "Yes, everything is going well. Nina was just telling me about the work you and her are doing!"

I couldn't help but mirror her expression. Her sweet naivety had a soothing quality, and only worked to break any façade of displeasure. I turned to Nina, smiling as the shy girl ducked away from the lime light.

"Nina has been an invaluable asset in troubleshooting the problems with the frames." I reaffirmed gently, attempting to coax the woman out of her shell. "Without her brilliant mind, I am sure that we'd still be stuck trying to get the roller-ball landspinners working."

Nina flushed at the comment, eyes averting from my own. "That's not true. I wasn't very helpful. Lelouch was the one that actually identified the problems."

"Don't be silly Nina, you were much more valuable than that. I even heard Mister Ashford considering recruiting you for his research team."

Natalie jumped at that, pleasant surprise on her face, turning to Nina with a warm smile. "Wow, Nina; That's amazing!"

Nina flushed in embarrassment, trying to shrink into the background as Shirley and Rivalz began to praise the poor girl. I instead chose to give her my most encouraging smile, which seemed to give her some strength at least.

Further commiseration was interrupted as a familiar slam demanded protest from the door, drawing all of our attention towards the massive stack of papers Milly was hovering over, grinning maniacally. Everyone sighed as they moved over to the table, myself included. As we sifted through the mountain of budget requests, I spotted Nina giving me a brief smile of thanks. With the briefest nod of acknowledgement, I feigned ignorance as I balanced the budget, joking with Rivalz and Shirley at my own expense as the hours droned by.

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Doctor Katsumi Takahashi, Head of Research and Development
August 24th, 2015 A.T.B.
Ashford/Lamperouge Industrial Research Complex, 20 miles outside of the Tokyo Settlement

I hurried my way through the flow of people, knocking my way into the many scientists travelling in the opposite direction to me. I passed them by, a torrent of hasty apologies spewing from my lips. Everyone else seemed to ignore me as I made my way through, which was good enough for me. We really needed more facilities spread elsewhere, because this was just getting ridiculous. Having this many scientists and engineers in one facility, no matter how large, was just asking for an accident.

I exited the main entrance, the cool night air sending shivers down my back. I wrapped my lab coat around my body, warding off the cold. I strode across the immaculate courtyard of ALIR&D, the finely trimmed hedges and flora and consistently flowing fountains and man-made waterfalls provided a scene of tranquillity. The wind stirred soft moans from the exotically beautiful naturalesque scenery, the calm of the night touching this very specific spot of earth. The moonlight faintly lit the grounds, the only thing besides the ever-lasting flames to give light to the natural beauty. Soft, flickering orange melded with stable silver-white light in a captivating dance displayed across the lush grass of the courtyard. When I'd asked Mister Ashford why he'd put so much effort and money into the courtyard, he had chuckled. "Where else will you go to relax and just think?" He'd responded.

I arrived at the main gates of the facility, passing through the security checkpoint. To my dismay, Mister Lamperouge was already waiting for me at the front gate, his familiar distant gaze set onto the massive forest we sat across from. His attire was nothing fancy or immaculate; only a pair of grey slacks and a white, long sleeved shirt.

"My apologies Mister Lamperouge, sir; I wasn't aware that you were arriving so soon." I hastily apologised, only for the boy to brush it off with a dismissive wave.

"Neither was I, so no harm done." He left his seat and levelled himself with me. "So shall we head off to examine the work of our impressive array of scientists?"

I directed Mister Lamperouge to the entrance, and we made our way back into the facility at a relaxed pace. He, as usual, held himself with regal poise, his very presence eliciting feelings of respect he'd never needed to ask for. As we passed into the threshold of the facility, it was as if a huge breath was taken. The current of scientists and engineers parted for the boy as he marched onwards, granting him an almost imperceptible nod, which he actually bothered to return, regardless of who gave it. I hung by his side, guiding him as much as using him to fend off the waves of researchers.

"I trust that you have read the status reports?" I queried, to which the teenage tycoon nodded.

"Yes; I am quite pleased with the results produced, Takahashi-san. I have come to examine your work firsthand."

I grinned, directing him down another hallway. "Of course, Mister Lamperouge; please follow me. I believe that Professor Heym is preparing to test 'Project Firestorm' any minute."

It was a brief journey that took us to an overhead observation deck with a polarised screen. Mister Lamperouge immediately made himself comfortable in one of the many cushioned seats lining the deck. We watched on as my colleague, Professor Heym, tampered with a relatively small device bolted to a podium at one side of the room, aimed at a solid two foot thick steel target at the other side of the room. As soon as he was done he hurried out of the otherwise plain room, sealing the door behind him and watching on from his own observation deck.

"Starting 'Project Firestorm' prototype 39c test in t-minus ten seconds." Mister Lamperouge watched the test intently, his eyes the only thing showing any interest in the experiment before him. As the test counted down to zero, a buzzer sounded. Immediately the polarised screen turned pitch black and the sounds of sparks could be heard from inside the chamber. Light started to flicker across the deep abyssal screen like bolts of lightning across the black night. The sparks grew in intensity, before finally it reached its limit, and the spark spewed across the room with an impressive snap. As the bolt of light collided with a target on the opposing wall, a stream a bright light lagged behind it, growing until eventually the entire screen displayed only white, blinding light, before vanishing as if it had never existed; all within the space of a split second.

"Deactivating polarised screens,"

The black screens faded back to a grey, revealing a series of spider web fractures throughout the several inch thick bullet-proof glass. Some cracked panels of glass clung to the deep black, giving a patchwork effect to the entire image. The device Heym had set up had burst into flames, the many internal components lodged into the plain walls. The screens and walls were ablaze with rich flames, the very air burning up as it circled the epicentre of the blast with in a raging tempest of flames. The solid steel target had been obliterated entirely, the only remnants being the trickle of molten metal and concrete running down the adjacent walls.

"Room temperature reads at over fifteen-hundred degrees Celsius. Bringing room temperature down to habitable levels."

Hoses in the roof began to jet liquid nitrogen down into the room without control, the sprinklers having been completely destroyed, only to form a faint haze of steam. The walls began to gush as liquid heat stabilisers kicked into action. Mister Lamperouge watched with great interest, examining the end result of potentially the most dangerous weapon we'd ever created. A wicked grin formed on his face as he examined the damage done.

"So they finally did figure out how to create a Plasma Arc Cannon. I have to say, the name of the project is a very apt description; how long until it can be stabilised and weaponized?"

"Professor Heym believes that he can have a working, portable PAC in five months' time."

The young man pondered on this briefly, watching as the staff rushed about with cryo-stream guns and heat dispersion suits, trying to halt the raging storm of flames and debris. Having seen enough, he vacated his seat and marched towards the door. "I'd like to see the progress you have made on the Loki."

"Of course, sir."

We strolled through the halls, the staff parting like the red sea around us, either in fear or respect; or they were yanked back by those who did. The pace was relaxed, though a tense silence settled between us. Eventually, the young master spoke again, his tone indicative of his anxiety.

"A new scientist will be joining you very soon. She is a personal friend of mine, and I would like you to look after her the best you can."

My heart sunk slightly, and I fought back a deep frown; had a complaint been filed? "All of our staff are treated equally, and are well looked after; there is no need to ask." I replied.

"Yes, well, she is a rather special case."

Now I was thoroughly confused. "Oh?"

"She has a deep paranoia towards the Japanese due to a traumatic experience in the ghettoes." He paused briefly, watching me for any adverse reaction. All I could do was frown in disappointment; it was hard to dispel the image that we were animals when some still acted like them. "Do not be concerned, she is anything but violent; she is comparable to a small mouse. She is just rather fragile; that is where you come in." He offered, as we reached the end of the corridor, a massive steel blast door halting our progress.

I moved to the Hangar's control panel, keying in the access code as I nodded to the teen. "Of course, sir; I'll make sure she is well accommodated for."

He allowed a small smile, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Good."

Hitting the enter key, the massive gears roared into action, parting the thick metal doors, revealing the innards of the Hangar. Rows of towering, metallic behemoth slumbered, armour and components lay strewn about them. Some stood, imposing their presence upon the miniscule workers below, some lay folded in on themselves, ready to be stacked up and filed away in the massive racks lining the walls. Their caretakers flitted back and forth, running diagnostics on the automaton warriors, spot welding, arming and disarming. The Hangar was a buzz of activity as engineers rushed much needed components to and fro. The hiss of welding guns and growl of cranes punctuated the air with an almost calming rhythm. I politely gestured Mister Lamperouge forward, which he obliged politely.

We approached the end of the massive hall, the rows of prototype Knightmares watching our every step. Standing above all else, there stood a jet black automaton that would have stood just a head taller than a Gloucester. It sported the tell-tale skeletal frame of a Colchester, with the segmented, notched, chitinous armour wrapped around the thick boned body. Crystalline protrusions dotted the daemonic carapace, glittering with deathly precision under the dim lighting. The normally angular facial features of the Colchester were discarded in favour of more rounded features, crested with angular, sharp notches. Cables connected into the machination at various access points, throbbing with energy. Just standing in front of the menacing creature felt like disturbing a sleeping giant.

"I now present to you, the 'Loki' Knightmare Frame" I proudly stated, dramatically motioning towards the monstrous creature.

Mister Lamperouge was a hard figure to read, so I suppose what I saw on his face was something akin to being impressed. "Is it fully functional yet?"

I shuffled over to the diagnostics station, motioning for the fifteen year old to follow. "Not entirely. While the frame is completely functional, being just a supped up Colchester, the special features are still not combat ready."

"How long until it will be combat ready?"

I paused, thinking over it for a moment, before bringing up the power distribution charts. "The Chameleon Coils and Trans-holographic Projectors are currently working, but the sheer energy required to sustain them is impractical."

"And the Electronic Disruption Technology?"

I beamed at the man, moving over to my work bench. "I recently had a breakthrough, and was able to produce a small device capable of distorting standard electronic devices." I sifted through the mess of scrap and tangle of cables until I eventually stumbled upon the aforementioned device, just a regular wrist watch to the naked eye, showcasing it to the young entrepreneur. "I really need some field data, however, so I wanted you to give it to Miss Shinozaki for me. She seems to be able to take care of herself, after all." I gave a small chuckle, nervous tension building at my assumption, something not dispelled by Mister Lamperouge's aloof gaze. "I took the liberty of hiding it inside a watch, make it less conspicuous."

A small grin slipped onto Lamperouge's face as he examined the piece with amusement, and the tension inside me disintegrating instantly. "How very James Bond." Was his answer, something that elicited a proud chuckle from myself.

"That is what I was going for."

"Very well, I'll ha-"

The conversation was effectively cut off as the subject came rushing through the massive bulkhead of a door, usual maids uniform flapping vividly behind her. We all halted in our place, watching as the maid rushed through the unrelenting hordes of people, receiving nods of respect from the crew in reminiscence of the boy at my side.

As she finally closed on us, her usual calm demeanour was replaced with an urgency I'd never seen on her face.

"Master Lelouch, I'm afraid it is time to leave," She spoke softly, so that only Mister Lamperouge and I could hear. The teenager's smirk vanished and was instantly transformed to grim understanding.

"So who has he sent?"

"Miss Monica Kruszewski along with her regimental force. They should arrive within the hour," She answered stiffly, eliciting a deeper frown for the boy.

"I suppose there is no point in trying to hide now, is there?" He gave a sigh to the rhetorical question, fiddling with the watch in his hand. "Have you initiated the failsafes?"

Miss Shinozaki gave a curt nod, which caused the boy to relax slightly. "Very well; I want you to return to Ashford Academy and commence the 'Doppelganger' protocol," He responded, to which Miss Shinozaki was going to protest, but instead caught herself after a brief pause.

"Very well, Master Lelouch," And she left, just like that. Lelouch turned to me, his grim features unfailing.

"You may leave early today. Please give notice to the rest of the research staff that they too are allowed to leave early." His voice left no room for argument, so I simply nodded and began to round up my colleagues. I may have no clue what is going on, or why Mister Lamperouge is being chased by the Knight of Twelve, but I do know that I trust him more than any of those imperial bastards. They discarded me like eleven trash; he gave me a new home, a new purpose, and access to some of the most powerful tech in the empire. No matter what happened, I would support the boy.

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Captain Alan Summers, 12th Royal Infantry Company
August 24th, 2015 A.T.B.
Ashford/Lamperouge Industrial Research Complex, Tokyo Settlement

The rhythmic pounding of boots filtered through my open-faced helmet as our feet crashed into the ground in synchrony. My men and I followed closely behind our de facto leader, the Knight of Twelve, a rather young, pretty woman with long, golden yellow hair and wide, perceptive blue eyes. My standard issue assault rifle was tucked in my shoulder, while I watched the surrounding corridors with extreme vigilance. Behind me stood the rest of the platoon, the forward rank bearing the pole-arm rifles like an ancient phalanx formation, while those behind them fielded the more conventional assault rifle. I counted twenty men and women in total, all completely combat ready, with a small arsenal of grenades strapped to their chests. Why we would need this ordinance, I didn't know; assume maximum hostility, I suppose.

What was disconcerting, however, was the lack of people. We'd been scouring this facility for only ten minutes, but we'd been yet to find a single person. Experiments lay resting midway through completion, computers left on with half completed data. It was like everyone had just up and left, regardless of what they'd been doing. There was no sign of emergency, nothing was out of place. Everything was as neat as you could expect from scientists.

I quickened my pace, catching up to our femme fatale leader. "Are we certain that the target is here?"

Her stride lost none of its speed at the question, and her determined ferocity beset upon her. "The OSI last spotted Lamperouge in the Industrial Knightmare hangar; they have yet to see him leave, so that's where we're heading."

"And you don't think he left with everyone else? He obviously knew we were coming and told the staff to leave; it would have been easy enough to blend in with the crowd." I pointed out, making careful sure my tone gave nothing but respect for the woman; insubordination charges weren't dropped lightly, and I had a family to feed. "I could have the rest of the company search elsewhere for Mister Lamperouge."

"There is no need, Captain." She reassured sternly, sparking an inkling of confusion, "Mister Lamperouge may be reckless, but he is not stupid. He knows we are here for him; he doesn't have the endurance to hide from an entire regiment tasked with capturing him. He will either fight or surrender, and he understands the futility of fighting against the royal guard by himself."

"And you know this from experience?" I queried, hoping to delve further.

"I am well acquainted with Mister Lamperouge, though it has been many years since we'd last met." Was her reply, the air of finality clinging to her words with chilling resoluteness. I clamped my mouth shut, lest I say something to further push the brutal, beautiful woman at my side to take drastic measures against me.

We came to a halt, the daunting, colossal hangar door leading to our objective left cracked open, revealing a long, cavernous room shrouded by shadows. Mistress Kruszewski eyed the ensconcing silhouettes with diligent caution. I activated the helmet comm, signalling for the platoon to activate thermal vision. "Assume hostilities; the target is in a Knightmare hangar. Alpha, Bravo and Charlie, move in and take positions. Delta, prepare explosives."

Which beckoned the unanimous, "Yes, my lord!" as they carried out my orders. The first fifteen soldiers rushed into the breach, consumed by the darkness. The last five followed closely behind, grenades primed and ready, fingers wrapped tightly around the pins in preparation. Their faint silhouettes played in the darkness, the brief flashes of light catching onto their royal purple jackets as they rushed around the massive library of Knightmares in hunt of their prey.

It was after a few more seconds that Mistress Kruszewski marched into the shadows herself. I quickly followed, keeping pace with the determined woman, my rifle cocked and holstered in my shoulder. As we passed through the steel blast door, I felt unease wash over me. The atmosphere was eerie, the air chilled. A light draft ran through the hall, whistling through the carapace of the monstrosities lining the wall. My heart hammered in my chest, pounded in my ears. I unwittingly flinched at every slight movement, every faint sound. Even Miss Kruszewski was feeling the effects, the slight hesitation in her gait, the near invisible tremor to her breathing. Goosebumps washed over my skin as the chilled, damp air licked at the back of my neck. Instinct kicked in, and I withdrew a small flashlight from my back satchel. With clumsy, quivering hands, I flicked on the small device, only for the darkness to mock my attempts, consuming the light with reckless abandon and glee.

"Switch on the frickin' lights!" I finally called out, the dread clawing up my throat, strangling the words into painful gasps. I stood stock still, frozen in place as the second hand of my watch ticked with meticulous, loud precision. No answer. My head buzzed as the adrenaline kicked in, my muscles tensing, my flight or fight instinct screaming at me to high-tail it.

"Y-y-yes, my lord," The voice –clearly female- was meek, scared to speak lest something prey upon her. I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing at least some response. The faint shuffling of overcoats and clatter of weapons the other soldiers gave only worked to affirm my own reaction.

With a flicker, the large lights blazed to life with a familiar clicking, the dread quelling slightly as the darkness shied away. All of the guard ducked their heads out from behind cover, silently relieved that the oppressive darkness was abated. "Switching off thermal" came the call from one of the many soldiers, followed closely by the almost rhythmic chant of confirmation.

"All right, form up behind me. Sergeant Keller, report." I quickly spat out, trying hastily to leave this place as soon as possible. The Sergeant moved to my flank, bowing respectfully as he did so, though the slight trepidation in his rigid form destroying any semblance of a professional soldier. The other guard quickly melded into rank and file, ready and willing to get the hell out of here.

"All report no contacts; thermals didn't pick up any emissions apart from welding gear, My Lord." Was his hasty response, the words forced from his throat. We lulled into a sense of peace as I was about to motion for the soldiers to leave when I caught a glimpse of pale flesh from the corner of my eye. I spun to meet the new arrival, coming face to face with a young boy, his slick black hair hanging in a mop, blaring violet eyes piercing into my soldiers. He wore nothing immaculate, but his stance demanded respect, over threat of consequences.

"I was wondering when it was you'd arrive." A voice sneered from ahead, rigidly planted to the ground in almost rebellion.

"Contact!" I yelled, almost involuntarily, raising my rifle and depressing my trigger finger ever so slightly. The rest of the guard worked in synchrony, their own weapons clanking off their breast plates. However, unlike aiming their weapons at the boy in front of us as I had, they spun about on their heels, looking for the target just ahead of them like blinded beasts. They rushed to surround the Knight of Twelve, forming a defensive ring around the woman. Wild mutterings of 'not being able to see the contact' and 'where'd the bugger go?' rushed about the horde in harsh whispers. They twitched from side to side, trying to spot the young man who'd appeared just in front of us as if he were a ghost.

Before I could call into question the soldiers, Mistress Kruszewski stepped forward, emerging from the twitching horde of soldiers. "Masks off! Must be a glitch in their programming." She called, and each soldier hesitated slightly, before reluctantly removing their face masks. All looked visibly stunned as they caught a glimpse of the boy not fifteen metres from them, his shaggy black hair dancing idly in the chilling draft. The boy remained apathetic at best, malevolent at worst, scanning the ground with detest, before his cold gaze settled upon Mistress Kruszewski. Revulsion was evident as he looked over her, the anger and malcontent oozing from his pores like thick venom.

"So the emperor finally decided to send his pit-dog to collect his children; typical." The boy snarled, defiantly waltzing up to us, scowling heavily. My unease grew with every stride the boy made, like trespassing on sacred ground. Compulsions to run wracked my body; there was something undeniably wrong with this boy. He shot me a glare, before facing Miss Kruszewski once more, animosity radiating from the frown weighing down on his thin face. "And if I am unwilling to return to that nest of vipers?"

If Mistress Kruszewski was fighting the same compulsion as I, she gave no sign of it. "We have been instructed to take you back by force," Was her distant, authoritarian response. The boy scoffed at her, grim amusement at her presumption evident in his chilling stare.

"Very well, I will go with you, if only to retain what dignity I have that man has not seen to tread on." He hissed in response.

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'The ALI-14 Colchester Variant Knightmare Frame has reached completion, and has proven to out-do the RPI-11 Sutherland Knightmare Frame in the majority of aspects. This was thanks to the innovative work of our mixed ethnic production team, and the undeniable work of several outside contractors, their identities withheld for security reasons. The major features that separate the Colchester from the Sutherland come down to three main innovations; the armour, the 'landspinners' and the 'Intuitive Movement Index.

The machine is built as a light-weight, skeletal frame, made of nano-crystalized, densified carbon fibre and a variety of ceramics. This makes the frame considerably lighter, and thus more agile than that of the Sutherland, which uses heavy titanium alloys. The current prices established by the Central Oceanic Wasteland have titanium and the other metals common in Knightmare construction as astronomically high, due to their increasing scarcity, thus making the previously economically unviable polymers and ceramics on par for price with the rare metals. This in turn means that the cost of production for a Colchester is only above that of a Sutherland, as opposed to the enormous price of the RPI-15 Gloucester. As the Colchester was designed to be outfitted from the bottom up, the options for different carapace armour variants grants more versatility within enemy environments, specialising the Knightmare. The Carapace armour is made of the same materials as the frame, and thus does not add to the weight substantially. The armour has been proven to be far more effective at absorbing shock than the Sutherlands, allowing the Colchester to fall from heights that would destroy a Sutherland relatively unscathed. This, however, is countered by the armours increased susceptibility to fire, to the point of near uselessness against modern Knightmare armaments. Leader of the Project, Doctor Takahashi, has argued in response to this qualm by pointing out that "in the day of railgun technology, armour is about as useful as butter against a bullet", and instead opts to focus on increasing manoeuvrability-'

-Arnold Kendrick, Excerpt from 'Colchester Development Report' to R. Ashford, sent 03/05/2015 A.T.B

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Authors Note-

This story will be updated at irregular intervals…. Sorry 'bout that. In fact, this particular chapter is only here to see what people think of it, and whether it is worth my time to continue

I am sure that intelligent peoples such as yourselves have already figured out that the reason this story is on Fanfiction, rather than say, Fictionpress, is because it is FANFICTION, meaning I do not own Code Geass. However, the story ideas I can safely say were scavenged from all you lovely authors and stuck together in one big amalgamation of ideas. Therefore, even the idea does not belong to me. I just felt like trying my hand at this generic genre! Sorry to those I took ideas from. I would list you, but alas, the

Thank you for reading, and I bid you adieu

Kind Regards,

Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo