Crouching low in the gap between one of the warehouses and a row of shipping containers, Ciaran pulled back the cuff of his sleeve to reveal the glow in the dark hands and numbers of his watch. It was a birthday gift from his sister; a Fossil watch. It was a simple thing; a black face and strap intersected down it's length by two white stripes, with a case made of a gunmetal-coloured metal.
Focusing on the thinnest hand, he watched it pass the 12 on the face.
Four minutes.
Four minutes until the start of the mission.
Turning in place, Ciaran faced the fireteam assembled behind him, all crouched in the same position he was. Raising his hand, he held up four fingers and mouthed the time to the fifteen men behind him. Fourteen expressionless masks nodded back at him, while the stern face of Sergeant-Major Nicholas Reynolds gave him a wide smile.
Ciaran liked Reynolds. As a sergeant-major, the older man was a career soldier. Their meeting during the final parts of the mission prep cemented that fact.
When the young Captain had approached his designated fireteam, he saw Reynolds directing the men out of the APC.
"Sergeant-major!" Ciaran called out, drawing the man's attention. Turning, he was confronted by a square-faced man with a pugnacious nose, tanned skin and fierce green eyes. Under his dark blue beret, close-cropped black hair topped his head.
"Captain." The man replied, saluting him. He gave Ciaran a quick glance before he stared directly in front of him.
"Are you my second, Reynolds?" The young man asked, reading the sergeant-major's name tag, to which the man nodded in reply.
"All set, sir?" Reynolds asked, his voice giving no indication to his thoughts on the Captain's age.
"Nearly. There's just one thing I need to discuss with you." Ciaran said flatly.
"Sir?" Reynolds replied, not taking his eyes from the imaginary spot he was staring at.
"I'll be blunt: this is my first time leading this sort of mission, or even in combat itself. So..." Ciaran's voiced trailed off as he found the right words to say.
"I understand, sir," Reynolds said, bluntly keeping his voice professional. "I'll have no trouble taking over if things go south."
"I'll hold to that, Sergeant-Major." Ciaran said, before he began going over their mission in detail.
"Griffin One Actual, this is Command. Do you copy, over?" General Darlton's voice, masked slightly by a small amount of static, drew the young man back to the present.
"Command, this Griffin One Actual. Read you loud and clear."
"Griffin One Actual, you have three minutes until kick off. Are your fireteams in position, over?"
"Command, all fireteams in position. Just waiting the signal, over."
"Copy that. Griffin Two Actual, are your teams ready on standby?"
"Command, this is Griffin Two Actual." Lady Dorothea's voice came through the headset. "All my teams are ready and waiting. Over."
"Copy that. All teams, await for further orders. Command out." Darlton said before keying off his mic.
Turning his body round, Ciaran looked at Reynolds. "You all set, sergeant-major?"
"All set, sir." Reynolds replied.
"Good. But don't forget our deal, Reynolds." The Captain said with a smile, to which the older man shook his head.
"Wouldn't dream of it, sir. Although I think I'd feel safer about the deal if your wore a helmet."
Reaching up, Ciaran thumbed the bill of the drab grey field cap he was wearing, before shrugging. "I like to see what's coming from the sides."
Reynolds didn't say anything except give a small chuckle which Ciaran joined in with, the soldiers behind them sharing confused glances. Looking at his watch, the young Captain took in a deep breath.
"One minute. Get ready, men."
The sound of rifle safeties being clicked off came as the response. Reaching behind him, Ciaran drew out his own rifle, flicking the safety off, just as Darlton's voice came through his earpiece.
"Command to Griffin One. Be prepared to move out in thirty seconds. Over."
"Copy that command. Over. Thirty seconds, gents." Ciaran said, before addressing the men behind him, as he raised himself in to a standing position, his back pressed tightly against the wall. Behind him, the men in his fireteam copied his movements as Ciaran peered around the corner.
"Command to all Griffin teams: Melissa. I say again: Melissa."
"Copy that: Melissa." Dorothea's voice came through.
"Copy that, sir: Melissa. All right, men. Let's move it!" Ciaran acknowledged before leading his fireteam from it's hiding place and began moving towards the designated entrance point. They advanced in single file, sticking close to the wall for cover, rifles held at the ready. Even though he knew that each man had tightened their equipment down as bes as they possibly could, to Ciaran's ears, it sounded like he was leading a brass band. Out of the corner of his right eye, he could just about make out the positions of the overwatch teams, two sniper teams and two general purpose machine guns secluded on top of a short stack of large, rectangular shipping crates.
Quickly working their way down town the concrete, Ciaran could see the entrance in to the building, a small single side-door under a lonely lamp. Drawing closer, he saw the second fireteam, Griffin close in from the opposite side of the door. Slowing his speed from a quick jog to a careful walk, Ciaran let his body press against the wall.
Holding his rifle tight against his shoulder, Ciaran let his finger ghost against the trigger in anticipation. Blood was pounding in his ears and his heart felt like it would erupt from his chest, but he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Glancing up, Ciaran looked at the man standing on the opposite side of the door, a corporal of the same size and stature as himself. Peering back over his shoulder, he locked eye with Reynolds, who gave him a simple nod, which he returned. Looking back to the door, Ciaran looked at the soldier opposite him and gave him a nod of his own.
Kallen Kozuki, the red-headed, half-Britannian and half-Japanese Knightmare pilot of the Black Knights, sat in the cockpit of her red armoured Glasgow, her fingers gripping the tops of the controls tight. Through the main monitor, she watched as Zero commanded the members of the Black Knights, all armed with submachine guns, to fan out in front of the main entrance in to the warehouse. The masked man ordered the other members with the same vigour and presence as a battle-hardened general.
"All right, everyone's in position." Ohgi's voice came through the internal speakers, closely followed by Zero's voice himself.
"Good. Stand by for my word."
Kallen let out the breath she'd be unconsciously holding.
This was it.
It was always the build up to a mission that terrified her, but when the shit hit the fan, she was felt more at ease.
At least she used to. The last couple of days had shaken her up, especially with her mother.
"Get ready, everyone." Zero's voice cut into her reverie, snapping her back to the present. "Q-One, are you ready?"
"You know it, Zero." Kallen put a small measure of false bravado in to her voice, which thankfully, no-one else picked up on.
"Good," Zero replied, as she saw the masked man draw a small pistol out from under his cape.
The red-headed girl shifted her hands to fully grip the controls of her Glasgow as she saw Zero raise his hand above his head, while Ohgi and the other Black Knights raised their submachine guns. Kallen felt her Glasgow rumble in to life, its own rifle raised ready.
"Now!" Zero cried, bringing his arm down in a chopping motion.
The rattling sound of gunfire rolled down through the dockyard, startling all the soldiers.
"What the hell?" Reynolds muttered from behind Ciaran, while the young Captain keyed his headset.
"Griffin One Actual, to all units: who's firing?"
"Command to Griffin One Actual," Darlton's voice came in, cutting off any reply that was about to come though. "Captain, none of our unit's are firing."
"Fuck," Ciaran swore under his breath before he spoke in to the headset again. "Do you think it's...?"
"It has to be." Darlton growled.
"Fuck," Ciaran swore before speaking in to his headset again. "Griffin One Charlie, Griffin One Delta: get your arses in gear! We're stepping up this operation. Corporal, get that door open, now!"
At the last command, the corporal across from him slung his rifle and drew out a small, compact shotgun. Ciaran remembered Darlton telling him shotguns were the only weapons to still use cordite propellant, making them the perfect breaching weapon since the noise scared the hell out of whoever was on the wrong side of them.
Swinging the weapon up, the Corporal held the shotgun's muzzle close to the door's hinges, before pulling the trigger. The loud bark of the firing weapon filled the world as it's round left the muzzle and entered through the hinges, shattering the metal and loosening the door from it's frame. The Corporal then stepped forward and hit the door with his foot, sending the wounded door smashing on to the ground.
"Flashbang out!" Reynolds called out, as he threw a small, cylindrical cannister through the open doorway. The doorway filled with the noise of a bang and smoke, immediately followed by cries of confusion from inside.
"Go, go, go!" Ciaran yelled out, as he followed the corporal to enter the building, rifle held ready. Inside the lit room, he saw around a dozen men, clustered around several tables, all dressed in civilian clothes, all carrying submachine guns, although many of them were sprawled on the floor groaning and holding their eyes or stumbling while covering their ears in pain.
All of them were Britannian.
"Britannian Military! Hands in the air, now!" Ciaran roared out as he advanced in to the large space, his eyes darting from man to man. Some of the men turned tail and ran, the only ones remaining being those incapacitated by the forceful entry.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ciaran saw a figure appear from behind a crate. The man pulled himself up and levelled his weapon, Ciaran seeing the man's face as a snarl. Spinning quickly, the young Captain centred the sights of his rifle on the man and pulled the trigger. His gun fired off a three-round burst, the rounds ripping through the would-be attackers arm and entering in to his chest. A small, ragged hole appeared in the man's torso and neck, sending him sprawling to the floor with a gurgling cry.
Ciaran watched with wide eyes as the man convulsed on the floor, blood coming from his mouth before he jerked a final time and lay still. The young man couldn't help but stare at the body on the floor, even as the other soldiers of the two fireteams entered the room behind him and fanned out.
"Captain?" Reynolds' voice drew him back in to the world. Ciaran turned to look at the man who then gestured over his shoulder to a group of soldiers restraining several of the drug smugglers. "Charlie team is extracting the prisoners, while Delta team is securing the perimeter. We're ready to advance on your word."
Ciaran didn't say anything except give a nod in reply before walking past the sergeant-major.
"We're moving forward, everyone." He heard Reynolds call out, the large man walking behind him. "Team Alpha is moving forward, Bravo team is staying here on standby."
A flurry of positive replies answered him as Ciaran walked around a large shelving unit. As he did, a large crash hit his ears, followed by various screams of fear. Picking up his speed, Ciaran ran past several more of the large shelves, Reynolds close on his heels as he made his to the largest space in the warehouse, the light fading away in to darkness. Slowing to a walk, Ciaran stepped and stared at what he saw.
A ragged hole was literally punched through the steel door, about two-hundred yards in front of him, in to the warehouse. Illuminated against the light coming from the hole was a Knightmare, an older generation Glasgow, painted in shades of crimson. In front of the machine though, various civilians were milling around, not playing any attention to the large machine or the soldiers, each one saying various things happily, although what, he couldn't tell.
"Oh, bloody hell." Ciaran muttered to himself as he saw the hand of the Glasgow reach forward to stop a passing woman from falling over, the sound of several but distant pairs of feet coming from behind him. A fusillade of heavy weapons fire from it's flank tore off it's right arm caught the pair by surprise.
"The Knightpolice?" A female-voice came from the Glasgow, as another Glasgow, painted in the colours customarily associated with the police emerged from behind one of the large shelves, a large machine pistol held in it's hand.
"So the police are in on this?" Reynolds asked, confusion plain in his voice before he and Ciaran dodge to the side to avoid being ran over the one armed red Glasgow as it sped past them, both men colliding with the floor hard.
"Damn right, they are." Ciaran said pushing himself off the floor as keyed his headset. Looking at the door, he saw a series of figures appear, all dressed in black uniforms with strangely visored hats, and one dressed in an ornate cape and mask.
"Zero." Reynolds muttered, seeing what Ciaran saw.
"Griffin One Actual to Griffin One: all team members avoid the Knightmares. I repeat: avoid the Knightmares. Follow the warehouse to my position. It's the Black Knights!" Changing the frequency on the headset, he opened the direct channel to Dorothea.
"Lady Dorothea. Looks like I'll be needing your help after all." The man said with a worried tone, as he readied his rifle.
The Caradoc, Dorothea's custom Gloucester sped from it's holding point along the dockyard towards the combat. The Caradoc was geared heavily towards close combat, it's rounded plates designed to let enemy attacks slide off, and it's stun tonfas replaced by heavy, triangular, double-edged blades. The last alteration being it's head, replacing the standard model head being replaced by a stylized eagle's head, like an old knight's helm.
"Say that again, Captain. What exactly am I facing in there?" Dorothea asked, her eyes following the route displayed on an inset screen on the main monitor.
"From the looks of it, a Glasgow and a Knightpolice. But be careful. There might be more." Captain Forsyth warned through the mic. Dorothea grimaced slightly as she heard the sound of gunfire echoing through the background. Pushing her controls forward, she pushed the Caradoc onwards to it's destination.
After a few turns, she reached the designated warehouse. A group of soldiers stood around the wall of the building, seemingly ready to prepare to destroy the wall.
"My lady!" A voice came through on the Knightmare's radio. "Please wait just a few seconds more. We're almost ready to destroy the wall."
"That's too long. Move everyone out of the way!" Dorothea called over the loud speaker as she had the Caradoc speed up, turning it's torso so it's shoulder would connect with the wall first. Which it did, with a shower of mortar, bricks and steel before sliding to a halt. Activating her Factsphere, she quickly assessed the local situation: Charlie team was removing a large number of civilians, both Britannian and Eleven, from the area. Although she noticed that it was only the former who were handcuffed. The Elevens were simply herded around.
"Lady Dorothea? Was that you just now?"
"Yes, Captain. Situation update?" Dorothea queried as she pushed the Caradoc past the soldiers and quickly but cautiously through the warehouse.
"Not much change. We've got the Black Knights pinned by their entrance point, but we can't push forward because they've got the area covered. No clue on the Knightmares though."
"Copy that." Dorothea replied, her eyes scanning the screen before her, the green tint enhancing what little light was available to give a clearer image of the inside of the warehouse. Rolling past one of the avenues, a warning alarm sounded inside the cockpit, Dorothea's instincts kicking in as she jerked the Caradoc to the side, avoiding a burst of gunfire.
Jinking to the side, Dorothea unfolded her right wrist blade as a Knightpolice came in to view, a machine pistol held in it's hands as it began retreating away from it's target. Racing forward, the Caradoc rolled from side to side as it's opponent continued firing, the pilot attempting to empty it's entire magazine in to the white Gloucester as it extended it's wrist blades. Drawing in front of the Knightpolice unit, Dorothea drew the Caradoc in to a sideways spin, passing around her enemy's left side before driving the wrist blade directly in to the pilot block. The enemy pilot was instantly killed, his machine staying upright for a few seconds before slumping forward with a crash as Dorothea removed her blade and let it retract in to it's sheath.
"One down." Dorothea mused to herself before she sped the Caradoc to Captain Forsyth's location.
She hadn't travelled far though when, drawing her Knightmare to a halt at what she saw on the other side of one of the large shelves: a one armed, red Glasgow speeding away from a Knightpolice unit. The red Knightmare was in a bad position: it's hull mounted machine gun was destroyed, and it's remaining arm was occupied with what appeared to be a bundle of cloth in it's hand.
Scanning the situation quickly, Dorothea locked her eyes on to her chosen target and sped around the corner at full speed.
"Damn it." Kallen swore loudly to herself as she pushed her Glasgow almost to it's limits, doing her best avoid the Knightpolice pursuing her and not to get the burden in her hand killed.
Burden. That truly was the best word to describe the drug-addled woman who was meant to be her mother that who lay limp in her Glasgow's remaining hand.
"You're in the way!" She called out inside the cockpit of her Knightmare, rolling the control pad to let her mother fall out of her grasp. But the woman didn't fall out of the metal hand, instead catching on the units fingers, rolling on to her back.
Again, feelings of hate and anger as she saw the limp face of her mother facing upwards. Seeing the face of the woman who had been so weak and selfish looking nothing more like a rag-doll...
"Damn it! I don't need you!" Kallen roared, the Glasgow lifting it's arm, ready to throw it's burden aside like the trash it was. "I don't want you!"
The Glasgow shuddered as the pursuing Knightpolice unit's machine pistol caught it's right leg, destroying the limb in a flurry of flying metal and flame. The red-painted machine tipped forward, slamming hard on to it's front, it's forward momentum sending it to scrape across the floor, sparking as it went. Luckily, the girl managed to remain upright. Looking through her main view-screen, Kallen saw that her mother had managed to survive the crash too, her limp form lying prone near the Glasgow's hand.
"Kallen... Naoto..." Kallen could just barely hear her mother's words before the Glasgow shook again from multiple impacts. The Knightpolice had reached her fallen machine and was now firing at it. And Kallen was incapable to do anything.
"No. Not like this." She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable explosion.
The sound of rupturing metal reached her ears, Kallen's eyes jerking open. Looking over her shoulder at one of her rear facing view-screens, she saw a slash harken snaking backwards to a sleek, rounded white Knightmare, the opposing Knightpolice's right arm broken. The police unit turned, trying to reach for a second machine pistol holstered at it's waist.
The new Knightmare had another plan in mind however, as it raced forward, giving the Knightpolice a wide berth as it raced towards it's damaged right side. Kallen watched with rapt fascination as a wicked, triangular blade extended from the place where the machine's stun tonfas would have normally been as the new Knightmare sped forward, it's pilot's intent clear. The police unit tried to turn, raising it's arm, ready to fire.
The Knightpolice didn't manage to fire a single shot, the new machine closing the distance quicker than Kallen expected. With a fierce squeal of punctured steel and flying sparks, the triangular blade went straight through the police units chest, entering straight in to the cockpit. Even if the opponent was a member of the corrupt faction of the police, Kallen couldn't help but wince at the man's fate. Looking back at the victor, she saw the Knightpolice go limp, before the strange white Knightmare withdrew it's blade, letting it's slain opponent collapse to the floor with a crash.
Then it's head, the eagle-like head, turning to look at the fallen Glasgow, it's blank stare focusing on the cockpit block, as it took a step forward.
"To the pilot of the fallen Glasgow," A feminine, but stern voice called out. "My name is Dorothea Ernst, Knight of Four of the order of the Knights of the Round. I say this to you now: surrender."
Kallen's eyes opened in shock as the Knight continued speaking.
"Your Knightmare is too damaged for you to flee or fight. Surrender, and you have my word as a Knight that you will be treated fairly and honourably. However, if you choose to resist, I will have no choice but to end your life. You have half a minute to give your answer."
Kallen couldn't resist the shudder than ran through her body. She had just seen this woman, a Knight of the Round no less, beat a Knightpolice with the ease she had heard attributed to the Britannian Emperor's elite warriors. And she was being given the chance to surrender? She was conflicted about what she should do. She had sworn to fight alongside Zero, the masked revolutionary, to fight for the liberation of Japan.
But at the same time...
"I'm here for you." A softly spoken, female voice filled her cockpit. Turning to look at her main view-screen, Kallen's eyes widened as she saw her mother move to sit on her knees, her eyes staring at something in the distance that only she could see.
"Mother?"
"I'm here for you, Kallen. I'm here, as I always have been." Her mother said, a serene smile on her face as she stared in to the darkness of the warehouse.
"You stayed... for me?" Kallen said in disbelief.
"You have ten seconds." The Knight's voice came through again. The red-headed girl paid it no mind as her eyes welled up.
"You fool. You stayed for me? How could you be such a fool? … Or maybe I'm the fool."
"Your time is up. Your answer?"
Kallen glanced over her shoulder at the rear view-screen, watching the white Knightmare advance towards her with one of it's blades drawn, before looking back to her mother. She grit her teeth together.
'Forgive me, Zero.' She thought to herself before she activated her Glasgow's loud-hailer. "Wait."
The Knight of the Round stopped her advance.
"If I surrender, will you agree to listen to what I have to say?"
There was a short pause before the Knight responded. "On my honour as a Knight, I will listen to what you have to say."
Kallen sucked in a large lungful of air before exhaling. Reaching down, she pressed the button to open her cockpit, letting it open with a his before slowly stepping out with her hands above her head.
"Good choice." The female Knight said flatly over her loud-hailer as a squad of Britannian soldiers surrounded the fallen Glasgow, all their weapons trained on Kallen.
Racking the slide back on his rifle, Ciaran swung the weapon around the corner of the large box he was taking cover behind. Keeping the majority of his body behind cover, he leant the upper part of his torso round the corner, holding the rifle butt tight against his shoulder as he fired a short burst of gunfire. Even if the large expanse of the warehouse helped amplify the sound, the fast and tinny pops of the Britannian rifles and the Black Knight's submachine guns were starting to grate on his nerves.
Although they were no less annoying that his current opponent. The Black Knights hadn't advanced from their entry point, sticking close to the very edges of the torn and ruptured door and instead of centring their fire forwards, they crossed the paths of their projectiles, creating an overlapping field of fire. Even if their submachine guns lacked the range, the rate of fire more than made up for it.
Hearing the click of his magazine running empty, Ciaran swore as he pulled himself back in to cover, taking a fresh magazine out of one of the pouches on his chest and was in the process of inserting it in to his rifle before his radio crackled in to life. Bringing his hand up to his ear, he scratched at his right cheek to get rid of a small pain that had been bugging him for the last few minutes.
"Griffon Two Actual to Griffin One Actual. Captain Forsyth, do you read me? Over."
"I read you loud and clear, Griffin Two. Please tell me you have good news for me, my lady." Ciaran spoke in to his headset as he moved away from cover, his place being taken by another soldier.
"I've taken out two Knightpolice units, and I've not run into any more. Unless you have-"
"Which we haven't." Ciaran cut in.
"Then I've either taken out the police support or they're running scared." Ciaran was certain that Dorothea was smiling as she spoke. "Also, I have taken out the Black Knight's Glasgow."
"You're shitting me?" Ciaran said in disbelief, forgetting for the moment that he was talking to a Knight of the Round. Luckily, Dorothea only laughed, the sound cutting through the gunfire.
"No, I am serious, Captain. She's currently being taken in to custody. How are things on your end?"
"We've got ourselves a bit of an impasse, but it's nothing worth you bringing your Knightmare. We've got the civilians out, so that's my immediate concern done with."
"Captain!" A nearby soldier called out.
"I'll get back to you as soon as. Griffin One Actual, Out." Ciaran said, switching off his headset as he turned to move towards the soldier who had called out to him, joining him in cover behind a large steel crate. "What's up, soldier?"
"Look, sir." The soldier said, pointing around the crate. Leaning out gingerly, Ciaran couldn't help but let a smile come to his face. On the right side of the hole, he could clearly see Zero, pistol clutched in his hand, directing his underlings as they melted away from the hole. Two of them remained behind, laying down a suppressive barrage to keep the Britannians at bay.
"Looks like they're running, sir!" Sergeant-major Reynolds called out, a grin plain on his face.
"Don't get too cocky, sergeant-major. But still," Ciaran called out in return as he checked over his rifle again, racking the slide back in to the ready position before letting it snap back, before speaking in to his head-set again, "Listen up: Griffin One Bravo will be staying here as the rearguard. I want to two men from Griffin One Alpha ready with grenades, stun grenades only. Reynolds, you and four men will give covering fire for me and four the remaining two men. Get ready. We're ending this tonight!"
All the soldiers roared their agreement before they moved to their ready positions. As ordered, two soldiers took out one grenade each, both a cylindrical stun grenade, from their pouches, and pulled the pins ready.
Ciaran stared intently down the corridor between the two large shelving units at the ruined steel door, watching the small band of terrorists slip away. Between Zero and the two holding the door, there were four more people heading towards the exit.
"Now!" He roared out, as the two soldiers lobbed their grenades at the door. A few seconds later, they both detonated, covered the hole in a blanket of smoke which soon flashed with intermittent flashes.
"Come on, you Britannian bastards!" Ciaran yelled out again, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands as he ran full pelt towards the door. Behind him, he heard the soldiers give him a cheer as Reynolds and his team fired their rifles towards the door. His blood was pounding in his ears so loudly, that Ciaran was oblivious to all sounds around him. He couldn't hear the tinny pop of the guns, nor the loud roar that came from his lips.
Running down one of the alleys, Lelouch nearly slipped forward as his foot came down on a puddle of water. He quickly righted himself though, pushing himself off the ground in one fluid motion.
Why didn't he think to have the shoes in his Zero outfit built for running? A commander is never truly safe on a battlefield. He should have remembered that from what Cornelia had told him when he was younger.
Even though his breath circulated loudly through his helmet, he could steel hear the heavy impacts of military issue boots on concrete as his pursuer gained the distance between the two. Lelouch was a failure at physical education, anyone could tell you that, but right now, he was running faster and longer than he ever thought possible. Adrenaline was pumping through his system, and he was terrified, he had to admit to himself.
'What were the chances?' He thought to himself as he dodged around a pile of oil drums. 'What were the chances that the enemy commander would charge in to the fray himself?'
Even he believed that the king should lead from the front, but to do so in such a manner. To come charging out through the smoke left by the stun grenades, roaring and hollering like a madman. Lelouch applauded his own decision to order Tamaki and Sugiyama to pull back when he first heard the grenades impact on the ground. But even if he hadn't, he knew they'd have fled when that man came through the smoke.
'And it had to be him!' Lelouch yelled in to his head as he turned a corner, dodging his way past the various debris before him. The Royal Guardsman who had been with Suzaku little over a week ago. The one who was resistant to his Geass!
Running as fast as his legs could carry him, Lelouch turned another corner before he spied a glimmer of salvation. Ahead of him, no less than twenty metres away, the open door to a warehouse loomed like the dark maw of a grotesque beast, ready to swallow him whole.
"Do I dare go in?" Lelouch breathlessly asked himself, looking at the open hole. The sound of encroaching footfalls made his mind up for him as he dashed inside.
As soon as he was inside, he ducked to the side of the door and waited for a few seconds, letting his eyes adjust to the lack of light in the building. Inside, it was a mess: crates, boxes and beams lay haphazardly across the floor, some stacked at angles which would likely have made any self-respecting supervisor go mad. Picking his way quickly but carefully through the detritus, Lelouch pushed forward towards the other side of the warehouse, intent on finding the exit.
However, reaching the opposite of the building, Lelouch's heart dropped in to his stomach: it was a dead end. Looking around, the exiled Britannian prince clutched at his helmet with both hands.
'Trapped! Like a common zoo animal!' He screamed in his head, as he heard the footfalls slowly enter the warehouse. Looking around in a panic, Lelouch spied an open crate that faced away from the open door. Moving quickly, the teenager tucked his body as tightly as he could in to the metal container, wrapping his cloak around him so as he heard the footfalls stop. The sound of rustling equipment reached his ears, before he heard the soldier begin his advance in to the room. Looking through the opening, he saw a beam of light sweep across the far wall several times, each pass growing in intensity.
Lelouch steadied his breathing as best as he could, his sweat soaking in to his face mask. He had trapped himself, and he hadn't even realized it. Seconds ticked away like hours as the sound of the boots drew closer. Lelouch slowly drew himself back in the crate, trying to push himself further away from the entrance of the crate as the man's footsteps drew closer.
"Command to Griffin One Actual? Griffin One Actual, do you hear me? Over."
Lelouch let his head drop forward in relief as he heard the man mutter angrily to himself before answering his crackling radio.
"Griffin One Actual to Command. What's the matter?"
"Captain, I'm ordering a full recall. The mission's over, son. Move to Muster Point 9."
Lelouch waited, intent on hearing what the man would say. He could hear him grinding his boot heel in annoyance before the soldier let out a sigh.
"Copy that, General. I'm making my way back. ETA... probably about ten minutes. Over and out."
Lelouch let out a quiet sigh as he heard the footsteps recede then disappear from the warehouse, leaving him alone in complete darkness again. He waited for a minute or two longer before he pulled himself from the crate, his legs sore from the run and the climb in to his hiding hole.
Making his way cautiously out of the door, he glanced around. Assured that the area was clear, Lelouch walked away from the warehouse, activating his radio to contact the Black Knights.
This night had not gone to plan at all.
Walking down the space between the warehouses, Ciaran let his feet slow down before he reached a full stop. His breathing changed from a slow steady rhythm to a faster speed. He could feel his throat dry out and the clench up and relax intermittently.
Reaching his hand out to rest against a wall, he nearly stumbled sideways as he felt the adrenaline leave him, before doubling over and vomiting on to the floor. The horrible retching sound filled the alleyway as he seemed intent on emptying his stomach. Soon, he stopped before letting his head rest against the side of the building, the concrete pushing his hat off his head to fall to the floor. Ciaran's breathing came out hoarsely, his throat feeling like it was on fire.
Pushing himself from the way, the young Captain reached down to recover his hat, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve before making his way to the muster point. The sounds of bustling soldiers as they moved their equipment around quickly assaulted his ears, but he paid it no mind. He didn't even respond straight away as the first soldiers came up to him, congratulating him and patting him on the back.
"Good job, Captain!" That was the phrase that snapped him in to the world, as looking around, Ciaran saw himself surrounded by the same group of men he'd gone in to the warehouse with. Their helmets and masks were removed, showing the joy on their faces. Even Reynolds' face had a broad smile on it, except he just stood with his arms crossed across his chest.
"Bloody good job, sir," the large man said before the smile dropped slightly from his face. "Your cheek is bleeding."
Reaching up, Ciaran wiped his hand against both his cheeks. The left was clean while his hand came away slightly red from his right cheek.
"Huh. I never noticed." Ciaran said flatly, as Reynolds let a white helmeted medic move past him to attend to the cut.
"You must have got it during the fire-fight, sir." One of the soldiers chimed in as the medic applied a small square of gauze over the cut.
"Yeah, probably," Ciaran said with a small smile before looking around. "Well, haven't you got something you should all be doing? Sergeant-major, get these men moving! I want to get back to the palace as soon as."
"All right, you heard the Captain," Reynolds said, a smile coming to his face even as his voice took on the harsh tones of a veteran drill instructor. "Get your gear stowed and get ready to move out. You have ten minutes!"
The soldiers scattered at the sergeant's orders, those closest to the young captain giving him some final words of congratulation before Ciaran made to walk past the large sergeant-major who soon fell in to step beside him.
"How are you feeling, sir?" Reynolds asked, keeping his voice low.
"I'm all right, sergeant-major," Ciaran said, not bothering to look at the man beside him. "If it's all right with you, can I leave the details of the withdrawal to you?"
"Not a problem, Captain." Reynolds said, nodding his head before saluting, Ciaran returning the salute. He didn't say anything as he moved away from the military forces, weaving around the various personnel going about their duties until he made it out of the muster point. He let his feet carry him forward, until he found himself in dark segment of the docks between two of the warehouses. Walking forward, he soon found himself in the dark again. Before he knew it, he found himself sitting on a small crate, his head buried in his hands, his hat once more falling off his head.
He was so wrapped in his little world that he didn't hear the feminine voice calling his name and rank.
Leaving the harsh lights of the Britannian force behind, Dorothea slowed her pace from a quick jog to a walk as she came towards the large buildings. Pausing to let her sight adjust to the lack of light, she zeroed in one of the alleyways between the two closest buildings.
"Captain Forsyth?," She said softly as she walked towards the first alley. "Ciaran, are you in here?"
The young officer had disappeared after Darlton's call for him to return to muster, but he hadn't appeared at the command trailer, causing the General to become alarmed. He couldn't go out and look for the man himself, so Dorothea had volunteered to go and look for him herself. She had seen this before: men who had gotten their first taste of combat and had broken under the pressure.
Peering inside, her emerald eyes could make out a few distinct shapes: stacked boxes near both walls, various bits of litter and a person sitting on a box, slumped forward, their head resting in their hands.
Walking inside the alley, Dorothea drew closer to the young man. The alley's position shielded them from the noise down on the harbour, allowing her to hear the man's ragged breathing as she came close to him. Slowly, she reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder. If he had felt her hand, he didn't show it. He only buried his head deeper in to his hands.
"How are you feeling?" It was a stupid question, given the young man's current state, but if it would get him to talk, it would help.
Ciaran was silent for a few seconds before he spoke. "I threw up." His voice was hoarse.
Smiling softly, Dorothea put her hand in to a pouch on her belt and drew out some biscuits, the same kind she had given to him in the garage.
"Here." She said, gently pulling one of his hands away from his head and placing the food in his open palm. This got Ciaran's attention as he let his other arm drop, turning his head to look at the biscuit before looking up at the Dorothea. In the dim light, she could see him give a small smile before taking a small bite out of the biscuit.
"Mind if I sit with you?" She asked, to which Ciaran responded by shifting to the side gently on the box. The container he was on wasn't large by any stretch, but Dorothea didn't mind as she sat down beside him, not taking her hand off his shoulder. They sat in silence for a while, the only noteworthy sounds coming from the soldiers at the harbour and the man eating the biscuit beside her.
"Feeling better?" Dorothea asked, turning to look at the young man beside him. He had finished his biscuit and seemed to be simply staring at something at the base of the wall in front of him.
"I'm fine. Considering I took a man's life, I'm... peachy." The young man said before putting his head in to his hands, a shuddering sigh making his frame tremble.
Dorothea didn't say anything in reply. She just let her hand rub over his shoulders. Reaching over with her other hand, she took a hold of his other shoulder and pulled him close, letting his head rest against her shoulder. Raising her hand up, she began stroking his hair softly. They stayed like that for a few seconds more, but to them it felt like eternity. Unknowingly, Dorothea began rocking her body gently back and forth.
"It's all right to feel this way, Ciaran," Dorothea said gently, her voice no louder than a whisper. "There's no shame in it."
His voice ragged and hoarse, Ciaran tried to protest. "But I..."
"No," Dorothea cut in, her voice still soft. "No, you don't have to say anything."
Ciaran didn't protest. Instead he just burrowed his head in to the shoulder of her pilot suit. Dorothea was certain she could feel tears seeping in to the fabric, but she didn't care though. She just continued rocking her body gently back and forth as she carried on stroking his hair.
"Are you feeling better?" Dorothea asked gently.
A nod came as a reply, but neither person made a move to come out of the embrace. Reluctantly, Ciaran pulled himself off Dorothea's shoulder before letting out a shuddering breath.
"Thank you for that." The young man said, not looking Dorothea in the face, causing a frown to come to the woman's face.
"Hey." She said, taking hold of Ciaran's face and turning it to face hers. "Don't feel you need to bottle up your feelings on this." Using her thumbs, she gently rubbed his face, the left thumb brushing over the patch of gauze on his right cheek. "You should be proud of yourself tonight."
"I don't feel proud of myself."
Dorothea shook her head. "No, you should feel proud of yourself. You helped take down a drug ring along with a corrupt element in the police, and it was under your leadership that we captured the Knightmare pilot of the Black Knights, and with minimal loss of life to civilians and our soldiers. If that's not something to be proud of, then I don't know what is."
Not taking her hands from his cheeks, she carried on speaking.
"You showed courage and strength that, even in the Britannian army, is hard to find. Even your reaction just now proves that Darlton's faith in you is well placed. And so is mine." The last words were said with the same kindness she began with.
If Ciaran had any response, it died in his throat, his mouth opening and closing softly. Leaning forward, Dorothea moved her hands to his shoulders as she kissed him softly on his uninjured cheek, before standing up.
"I think Darlton will be looking for us right about now. I'll go on ahead. Here." She leant down and picked up the young captain's fallen cap, setting it gently on his head. "Smarten yourself up before you come out." She shot him another smile before walking out of the alley towards the bright lights.
Drawing closer to the crowd, Dorothea saw Darlton talking to the sergeant-major she knew was the man seconded to Ciaran, both standing behind the rear of an APC. Glancing over, the pair fell silent as Dorothea walked over to them.
"How is he?" Darlton asked.
"He's fine." Dorothea said, putting her hands on her hips as she looked down. "I think he's taken it quite hard though."
The general sighed as he put his palm against his head. "It's my fault. I knew it was too early for him to be out in the field."
"With all due respect, General," The sergeant-major spoke up. "He handled himself well tonight. Even if it was his first time, he didn't let that death stop him."
"You may say that, sergeant, but I think only time will tell how hard it's really hit him." Dorothea said as a reply, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Agreed." Darlton said, nodding his head before looking past Dorothea. "Captain."
Turning around, Dorothea was greeted with the sight of Captain Forsyth standing a few feet behind her, his hat set squarely on his head and his hands clasped behind his back at parade rest.
"General. My lady." He replied, nodding his head to both.
"Head on over to the command trailer, captain," Darlton said, not taking his eyes from the young man. "I'll debrief you on the way back to the palace."
"Yes, sir." Ciaran said with a short salute before walking away from the trio, Dorothea's eyes following him as he walked away.
"Is your after-action report written out, Lady Dorothea?" The Knight of Four heard Darlton ask as soon as the young man was out of sight. Turning around, she gave the large man a curt nod of her head.
"All right then. Sergeant-major Reynolds had given me his report, so we'll head off ahead of the main group."
"You're not contacting the Princess from here, sir?" Sergeant-major Reynolds asked, confused.
"No, she stressed that as soon as we finish this operation that she wants to debrief us in person back at the palace."
Reynolds nodded his head before saluting General Darlton before leaving the two high ranking personnel to make their way back to the command trailer.
After delivering a short message from the command trailer to say that the mission had been completed, Darlton, Dorothea and Ciaran waited for a few minutes before a small VTOL transport flew in to a prepared landing zone. Climbing aboard, the trio were strapped in quickly before the transport climbed in to the sky towards the Tokyo Settlement. Flight time was only about three hours, the lights coming through the windows of the vehicle in the sides.
The VTOL landed on the same platform that the two Knights of the Round arrived on, the occupants departing quickly to avoid the downward blast from the VTOL's still running engines, the aircraft departing the platform as the two officers and the Knight reached the elevator to enter the Palace proper.
Exiting the elevator, the trio saw Lord Guilford standing near the wall of the hallway they exited in to. The bespectacled Knight silently directed them to Princess Cornelia's main office, the group walking in silence before they entered the office.
Sitting behind her desk, a small pile of folders in front of her, Cornelia peered intently over the folded hands at the three people before her. Captain Forsyth, General Darlton and Lady Dorothea all stood at parade rest, their backs straight and hands clasped behind their backs, eyes fixed straight ahead. To the side, Euphemia, Guilford and Nonette stood still waiting for her to speak.
"Firstly, let me congratulate you three." The Princess began, her indigo eyes sweeping over the three before her. "As you know, after the foul-up that was the Lake Kawaguchi Incident, we have had little success against the subversive elements in Area 11. But tonight, you all changed that."
She paused to let her words sink in. Darlton let a small smirk come to his face, while Dorothea and Ciaran remained stone-faced. Cornelia continued speaking.
"The actions you three carried out tonight have helped us twofold: One," The Princess raised her index finger, "We have finally put a stop to the Kyushu Route or, one the outside change, have a least severely crippled it's ability to transport and distribute Refrain.
"And two," Her second finer raised to join the first, "We have also finally dealt a blow to Zero. We have captured one of their number, a Knightmare pilot too. Judging from the intelligence gathered in the wake of the Shinjuku Skirmish, we can safely assume that this... girl is indeed the Black Knight's ace pilot. Although from what Lord Guilford has told me, she is being quite uncooperative in telling us what we need to know."
Looking over, she saw Guilford nod in way of a reply, before turning back to face the trio.
"Your highness?" Dorothea asked, drawing her attention.
"Yes, Lady Dorothea?"
"Your highness, I think I should say that after taking the Glasgow pilot in to custody, I agreed to listen to her demands."
"And?" Cornelia asked, leaning forward, intent to listen to what the dark-skinned Knight of Four had to say.
"When I took her captive, I was told by her that the woman who was taken in to custody along with her was her biological mother."
Cornelia couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the revelation, as did everyone else in the room, Darlton and Ciaran turning to look at her in shock.
"And the reason for mentioning this is...?" Cornelia asked.
It was to her surprise that Ciaran spoke in response. "Your highness, I think that Lady Dorothea is suggesting that we be lenient towards this woman. And I have to agree with her."
Cornelia leant back. "Do you really think so, Captain?"
"I do, Princess. I do feel that being harsh on this woman, and Refrain users in general, may send the wrong message to the... to the Elevens, your highness."
Cornelia noted the hesitance with which he said the word 'Eleven', but she didn't say anything against it. "And what message would that be?"
"That yourself and the Britannian rulers are tyrants. They fear you, but they hate you too, and that's not a good combination."
Cornelia couldn't help but roll her eyes at the statement. It was right out of one of her brother Schneizel's favourite books, The Prince by Machiavelli.
"So what do you suggest we do instead, Captain?" The Princess asked, intent on what he would say.
"I suggest that we keep the time frame for the sentence on drug use, but I think we should also give them actual aid to kick any addiction they have to Refrain. If they prove successful, we reduce the sentence."
Out of the corner of her eye, Cornelia saw Euphemia clap her hands together, a smile on her face.
"That's an excellent idea!" The pink princess said, and Cornelia couldn't help but smile at her younger sister's outburst.
Looking at the young man before her, she let a sly smile come to her face. "I'll definitely give your idea a thought, Captain."
Ciaran nodded in reply before she spoke up again. "And tacking on to that, I am pleased to say that your promotion has been fully gazetted. Congratulations. You're a full captain now."
If Cornelia expected a reaction, it wasn't Ciaran's face remaining a stoic mask.
"Good to hear." Was his only reply, causing Cornelia to furrow her eyebrows, while to the side, Nonette, Euphemia and Guilford shared a confused look.
"Would everyone please give me and Captain Forsyth some privacy?" She asked politely, but her tone brokered no argument. Leaving the young man standing alone, the other occupants of the room made their way towards the exit. As they moved away from him, Cornelia saw Darlton and Dorothea share a concerned look before they moved to exit through the door.
The click of the closing door sounded like a gunshot in the large room, but neither Cornelia or the young Captain paid it any attention. The princess merely stayed seated at her desk while the young man across from her remained standing. Leaning forward, Cornelia put one of her hands on to the small pile of folders in front of her.
"I've got some after action reports here, from General Darlton, Lady Dorothea and a Sergeant-Major Reynolds. Do you know what they tell me?"
"No, your highness." The man before her replied smartly.
Reaching over, Cornelia opened the file on the top. "Sergeant-Major Reynolds says that when the Black Knight's Glasgow entered the warehouse, you 'kept your calm and ordered a retreat to better cover, while giving the order to cover to the civilians present in the area'."
Ciaran didn't reply so she opened the second folder.
"Lady Dorothea, in her report, mentions that during the ensuing combat, you called her Knightmare in to combat the Glasgow while you ordered your fireteams to engage the Black Knights."
No reply. Cornelia opened the final folder.
"General Darlton saves the most interesting for last. He says that, after the Glasgow was subdued, you yourself went off in pursuit of Zero yourself, on foot. Granted, you obviously did not succeed, but it's still an impressive feat."
"If you say so, your highness." Ciaran replied smartly.
Sighing, Cornelia leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay, what's wrong, Ciaran?"
"Nothing, your highness." The man replied, his voice level and professional. "Now, if there's nothing else, your highness?"
Cornelia slammed a fist down on to the table as she leant forward violently, her face twisted in to a look of anger. "Damn it, Captain! Answer me."
If he was surprised, the man didn't show it. He kept his eyes on the princess, before he closed them, sucking air in through his nose.
"Do you want to know what's wrong, Princess?" Ciaran spoke, his voice gently rising in volume. "Well, I'm sorry, but if you're trying to make me feel pride in last night's operation, I'm afraid I can't do that because I fucking killed a man!"
Cornelia didn't say anything, taken aback by the man's outburst.
"I took another man's life! I know as a soldier, that's my job. But I... I just can't deal with the fact that I shot someone! I'm not a killer, but I... I..." Ciaran's voice trailed off as he brought one of his hands up to his head, gripping his hair tightly. "How can I... How can I..."
The young man's strength left his legs as he dropped to his knees. Pushing her chair back, Cornelia quickly walked around the desk to stand before Ciaran's kneeling form.
"Ciaran?"
"How can I feel proud about killing a man?" Ciaran croaked out, his voice becoming hoarse as his second hand came up to his head. Sighing softly, Cornelia knelt down and placed her hands on his shoulders, causing him to look up. The Princess could see that his eyes were beginning to water.
"Ciaran," Cornelia began, kneeling down to bring her face level with his. "No-one is trying to make you feel proud for taking another life. I'd never force a man under me to do so. Only the very worst people feel proud for committing such an act. You should feel proud for carrying out your mission so well."
A short, hoarse chuckle surprised Cornelia as she saw Ciaran's face turn to a grin. "Dorothea said the same thing."
This made Cornelia smile softly and nod. "I imagine she did. And she's not wrong."
Ciaran didn't say anything in reply, except to bring his hand up to wipe the built up tears from his eyes.
"Euphemia told me about your little conversation with her the day after you arrived."
"She did?" The young man asked, looking up at the Princess, a slight look of shock in his eyes. Cornelia nodded before she continued speaking.
"She told me about how you don't have a family and about how she said that we'd be your family in their stead."
"So she did." Ciaran said flatly.
"And to be honest... I'm not against the idea." This made Ciaran's brow furrow in confusion so Cornelia carried on.
"I don't know how it must feel to be ripped away from your family. I've been lucky, even with the loss of Lady Marianne and her children, to have kept Euphemia close and to have found companionship in Darlton, Guilford and Nonette, hard as that may be to believe. To have gone through this whole ordeal, being sent to this world and to have gone through all of the various things I have put you through, I can only imagine what sort of strain that must have put on you. But I don't want you to think you can go through this all alone."
Shifting her position, Cornelia moved to rest on both her knees.
"You aren't alone, Ciaran. I want you to know that. Everyone you know here, everyone of us, will be with you. We'll look after you and help you through any troubles you come across. On the day we met, I swore that no-one would hurt you."
Releasing her hold on one of the man's shoulders, the Princess moved her hand to hold it over her heart.
"I, Cornelia li Britannia, swear to you now: you will not be abandoned, not by myself nor by anyone here. You are a soldier, yes, so Darlton and I will give you orders, but that does not mean we do not care for you. As I said, I do care for you as a brother. I may not be able to show it at times, but I do care. Believe me."
Ciaran didn't say anything in reply, his head dropping low again and the soft sounds of sobbing coming from him again. Leaning forward, Cornelia wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought him in to a hug.
"Thank you." The young man croaked out as he pressed his head in to her shoulders. "Thank you, Princess."
"You can call me Cornelia, Ciaran." The princess replied, rubbing his shoulders lightly.
"Thank you... Cornelia." A smile came to Cornelia's face, before she moved out of the hug. Ciaran moved away without reluctance, his cheeks and eyes red, but an unremitting smile plain on his face.
Moving to stand up, Cornelia cupped Ciaran's chin to tilt his head up. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead in a gentle kiss before helping the young man stand, taking a handkerchief out of a pocket.
Ciaran took the offered fabric and proceeded to wipe his eyes with it. He moved it give it back, but Cornelia shook her head.
"Feeling better?"
A nod came as a reply. "Yes. Thank you, Cornelia."
"Now try and get some sleep, Ciaran." Cornelia said, giving the young man's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before the man turned to leave the room. Before he reached the threshold, Ciaran turned around.
"Good night, Cornelia."
The Princess only smiled in return as she watched Ciaran leave the door, only opening her mouth when she heard the door click closed.
"Sleep tight, Ciaran. As well as you can."
It wasn't to Ciaran's surprise that in the hallway outside of Cornelia's office, Darlton, Euphemia and Dorothea stood in uneasy silence in a small huddle close to small table. At the sound of the door being opened and closed, the heads of all three snapped up to focus on him.
"Ciaran!" Euphemia called out, quickly closing the distance between the two. She stopped short, unsure of what to do before wrapping her arms around Ciaran's chest. Without hesitation, Ciaran put his arms around the pink Princess' slight frame.
"How are you feeling, lad?" Darlton asked, stepping closer. Letting his face peek around Euphemia's large head of hair, Ciaran gave him a sincere smile.
"Better, sir. Princess Cornelia told me some words I really needed to hear."
This made Darlton and Dorothea smile while Euphemia tightened her hug.
"I'm glad to hear that, Ciaran." Euphemia squeaked out softly, tilting her head to look at the man's face. The smile on Ciaran's face was infectious to the young princess as her face morphed from a worried look in to face of glee. The princess then devolved in to a small giggling fit as Ciaran opened his mouth wide and let out an almost leonine yawn.
"Wow. I am shattered." The man said, sounding surprised, causing the Britannians to chuckle loudly.
"I guess it is late," Darlton said. "We should all head to bed."
Dorothea nodded her head. "Indeed. Well, good night to you then, Captain, General, your highness."
The two officers and the princess bade their good nights as well as the group split to go to each of their rooms. It was by sheer circumstance that Ciaran and Dorothea had to walk in the same direction to go to their respective rooms. Drawing closer to his own room, Ciaran stopped to say good night to the Knight of Four again.
"Good night, Ciaran." Dorothea replied before walking to her room, Ciaran entering his own room. Closing the door behind him, the young man removed his clothes and set them on to the couch that was against the side of the room. Tiredness made him forego anything else, so Ciaran climbed in to his bed.
Sleep did not come easily.
AN: Whoof. This chapter took a VERY long time. Again, I need to give my thanks to A.D. Fields for helping me out with this chapter. Big props to you man.
This is also the longest chapter I've written (so far) for A Brave New World and I assume it won't be the last.
Also, if you were expecting something to go down between the MC and Zero... you're going to have to wait for a later chapter. Hehe.
Not much else I can really say on this. Although I think I could have done Kallen's scenes just a bit better. But hey, there's always next time.
So again: read, enjoy and review. Toddles!