The blank stares of mannequins watched the empty roads and sidewalks through a windowpane of processed glass as a figure darkened by shadows cast by outside streetlights sifted through shirt after shirt on a silver rack. Fingers made white by a coating of frosted over ice glistened as they pulled up a sleeve for a more thorough examination. Lelouch's gaze was met with fine, factory-woven stitching that far outstripped what he was used to.

"Nothing?" asked the doll, kicking its legs as it sat on the unopened register. Its plush body didn't so much as squeak each time it hit the machine, and its ghostly silence had led Lelouch to almost forget someone was watching him.

He… she… paused. "Nothing what?" Lelouch asked, regarding the doll with a flat stare save for a single raised eyebrow. "You seem unimpressed."

"I am, says I! Aren't you supposed to be brilliant?"

Lelouch didn't so much as blink. "I've been called that, yes."

"Then where's the monologue? What happened to explaining your plan, huh? I say, I thought you'd have more to brag about!"

"You're confusing intelligence with arrogance." Lelouch went back to checking the shirts, frosted fingertips moving in smooth, delicate patterns. Not a drop of water fell from the ice.

"At least explain where you learned how to pick locks, as I say!" The doll whined, "Come on~! Tell me~!"

Lelouch sighed, "Alright… Not all locks are the same, you understand. After Britannia invaded Japan, I taught myself to pick the locks of basements and storehouses. When things settled down and I was getting a bit rusty, I practiced by occasionally locking myself out of club rooms."

"There's a big difference between old basements and club rooms, says I. And that lock is much newer than what you're used to~! It's electronic, too! I can see it blinking from here~!"

"If you want to know how I did it, I'll need more answers from you." Not bothering to pause as she searched, Lelouch held up a finger. "First, explain this."

"This?"

"My ice." Lelouch clarified.

"Ah~! You are a Kampfer."

Lelouch stopped and turned to stare. "…And?"

"I never explained? I thought I did… A Kampferis–"

"You mentioned I was a warrior. That does not explain my ice, or what happened at the graveyard."

"I see, I see! I think I understand your confusion~! Alrighty, says I, here's how it works! Kampfer come in three types: Zauber, Gewehr, and Schwert. Magic, gun, and sword!"

"And yet I've used two of those things. So am I to believe that I am somehow special, and most others can only be one of those types?" Lelouch asked, going back to work.

"…Hmm… I dunno if I should answer that. We're playing your game, yes? A question for a question?"

"Fair enough." Lelouch pulled out a shirt that fit. It was a short-sleeved, collared shirt. Plain, simple, perfect for blending in, "I picked the lock using my ice. Its sensor detects heat and required a key card with a magnetic strip – I've seen them before. So, I fooled the lock into thinking that a card was being slipped through by cooling it until the current was interrupted."

"And getting it on your first try?"

"Blind luck." Lelouch slipped the shirt on, trying to ignore how it felt against her bare chest. "That's two questions by the way. My turn, I appear to be able to use two different sorts of Kampfer abilities–" Lelouch took a moment to reflect on how odd it felt to say that word. It sounded wrong coming out of her lips, as if it lacked the proper emphasis. "–so how is that the case?"

"A Kampfer's type only denotes what they specialize in. So I say; it is entirely possible for any Kampfer to learn their magic, master a blade, or use a gun. Each Kampfer has a close range weapon, a long range weapon, and a form of magic they are predisposed to… but most Kampfer focus on one of the three above all others and most Kampfer are predisposed to using one type or another anyway, I say. You are not unique because you can use these different types, but instead you are unique because you are not predisposed to any of them."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, yet." Lelouch sighed. If the doll was telling the truth, and so far Lelouch had little evidence that it was lying, then it was basically saying that Lelouch lacked any specialization at all. Though, if Lelouch had to have some kind of preference so far, he'd have declared it to be magic.

…Actually, as he thought more about it, this… might be a really bad thing.

Lelouch frowned. From a pure numbers standpoint, if she assumed that each Kampfer without specialty started with ten "units" of ability in each of the three fields… then a Kampfer with a predisposition to one of those fields would either have more "units" than her in total, or that Kampfer would have the same number of units but they would be distributed differently.

"Do the types have advantages over each other?" Lelouch asked.

The doll waved its flipper, as if to say "so-so" and shrugged. "It's debatable, I say. Some argue that magic users have an advantage against gun users, gun users have an advantage against sword users, and sword users have an advantage against magic users, but that's all theory-talk, so I declare." It pointed a flipper at Lelouch, "What is a sword? What is a gun? What is magic? There is no conventional wisdom in a fight between Kampfer, only that they fight."

"But they are clearly unique enough to denote a unique pre-specialization." Lelouch objected, "Are you suggesting that a Kampfer who naturally specializes in rifles isn't going to have an advantage against a Kampfer who specializes in nothing?"

"I suggest that each Kampfer is unique. How they play their cards is up to them, I say. Also… that's two questions you asked! You cheater, Lelouch! Play fair with your own game, why don't you?"

"Playing fair is an excellent way to lose." Lelouch smirked, "And that counts as a question."

"…Fast and loose, says I. So very fast and loose – well then! Okay! Tell me this, why did you discard your robes?"

"The ones I was buried in?"

"Yes!"

"…Because I was buried in them? Because they were tattered beyond recognition after the first block…?" Lelouch trailed off, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh. Oh. I think I see what's happening here…" The doll put a flipper to its chin. "Lelouch. As a Kampfer, you only need to have materials for an outfit in order to construct one. Had you kept the robes, I say, you could have pressed your bracelet and made a new outfit for yourself from scratch."

Lelouch completely stopped what she was doing. "What."

"It's true! Kampfer must be able to traverse whatever society they are in. Not all Kampfer will be from the same continent, and not all Kampfer will have an easy time hiding without something to make it easier. So if you press your bracelet, you can use whatever you are wearing to create the first outfit that pops into your mind! Concentrate a little and you can make it look however you want."

The former demon emperor, the destroyer of countries and last true ruler of the world, stared at the doll with a mouth pulled open in shock. She shut her mouth, then made to ask a question… and stopped. She thought about it.

In that moment, Lelouch was about to ask why the doll didn't tell her. But more pressing was why she'd need to hide at all. Up until now, she had assumed that she would need to hide for obvious reasons – she closely resembled who she used to be, she needed a new outfit and a new identity, she was literally wearing her old outfit after fleeing a graveyard… but these didn't seem to be things of concern for the doll.

As a matter of fact, Lelouch could detect a sort of amusement drifting off of it in waves as it continued staring at her. The doll's eyes lacked expression; it could not smile or frown. And yet still it played with her.

…It didn't tell her about that feature because it was having fun. But why have the feature at all? And it was common among all Kampfer, so other Kampfer had to know about it. That was a feature that existed to allow Kampfer to hide – if it wasn't meant to let Kampfer hide from each other, then who could it be helping Kampfer hide from?

Lelouch dry swallowed. "One more question. What happens if I'm seen by someone who isn't a Kampfer?"

The doll stared at her. Then, it began chuckling. "Ohohohoho~!" It chortled, putting a flipper on its dangling intestine as if imitating a belly laugh. "Ohohoho~! That's a good question~! Well… Well, well…" The doll tilted its head, "You would be eliminated, and I would be the messenger to one of the witnesses."

…No.

Lelouch's hand gripped into a fist. Her knuckles whitened as she glared daggers at the doll. "You can't do that…" She said, "You brought me back to life. There's no way you'd be that fickle!"

"It's not me that's being fickle, says I." The doll replied. "Those are the rules. I don't make them. I just follow them, and I'll explain them if I'm asked, so I say."

"…I see. So by making me into a Kampfer, you've forced me into a perpetual hostage situation. One wrong move on my part, and not only will I die but someone who is almost guaranteed to be less qualified for fixing this problem will take my place."

"You're catching on faster and faster. My, you're smart." The doll drawled, clapping its flippers. "I wish I were that quick on the draw! I've already lost track of all these questions, says I. But enough of that… aren't you going to test it? Your ability to make new outfits? Hmm…? Hmmmm…?"

"You disgust me." Lelouch sighed, "Let's just get this over with." She put a hand to her bracelet and concentrated. The first outfit that came to her mind… the first outfit…

…Bright flashing lights, spinning with vibrancy belying their lack of substance, Lelouch watched as they wrapped and clashed. They exploded into sparkles of white that eclipsed her limbs and left behind cloth that wrapped around her body in extending strips that grew more and more.

Underwear first, then a simple undershirt for modesty, a dark jacket, a pair of pants, off gold trim climbing up a collared neck – Lelouch chanced a peek, opening one eye to see the way her outfit warped and shifted.

Then, it stopped. Half-formed clothes clung to her body, shirts and pants mid-transition from one kind of cloth to another hung off of her like rags, feeling unnaturally stiff as they pulled at her.

"Hm? What's wrong, Lelouch? Too many memories with that outfit?" The doll taunted her.

Lelouch cringed, gritting her teeth. She knew that Ashford Academy had a special place in her heart – she'd called it her home for several years. But to think the first outfit she'd think to put on would be that old uniform… Lelouch took a deep, calming breath. Pressing a hand to her face, she shuddered.

"Haah… Hahaah…" A nervous laugh left her, "I see how it is… This is nothing like the graveyard. I can't just close my eyes and let things naturally progress…" Lelouch cupped herself, feeling where new stitching gave way to older fabric that stretched uncomfortably taught against her assets. "And because of who I used to be… the first outfit that comes to mind won't fit this body of mine."

It was impossible to say if this was made better or worse by the fact that Lelouch knew how to sew, and thus had experience making her own outfits before she'd died. Back when she wasn't… her

Lelouch frowned. "Alright, let's try this again." She took another deep breath, and she kept her eyes open. It seemed there was no way for her to just ignore what she used to wear, or who she used to be. So maybe a different direction was necessary…?

She focused, letting the light of her power guide threads along their path as the fabric began transitioning shapes and forms again. The collar lowered and opened into a V-neck, the trim of her old uniform fading into a light yellow. Darker colors brightened into a lighter, softer purple color. The sleeves were still long, but now they were baggier. She'd have to roll those up…

Buttoning her shirt up, Lelouch simplified the tanktop between her bra and her shirt. Thin, basic white – that would be enough for now. Then her pants… those ended up being a better fit, hugging the curve of her thighs before flaring out towards her ankles. They lost their color, fading into a light blue. Maybe… denim would be better…? Just the thought of shifting to that fabric threatened to ruin the ensemble, and Lelouch rejected the idea with a wave of her hand.

The shoes were next. Just a pair of running shoes for now – those would suffice. White, with plain laces. No need for any dramatic flair. No capes, no gold trim, no dramatic poise or high collars – this was just a standard, normal outfit. Lelouch sighed, eyeing herself in the full length mirror offered by the store.

She reached out, touching the glass and marveling at her reflection. With her other hand, she swept back her hair. It was long – far too long. But… "I hate everything about this, you realize." Lelouch's tone was even as she stared into her reflection. "I hate being brought back to life… being changed into a body I'm unfamiliar with… More than anything, I detest this face."

Her hand cupped her chin as she turned her head every which way, carefully observing her cheekbones and the curves of her eyes. "You mentioned that before," the doll noted. "Something about looking like your mother, I say."

"Too much like her," Lelouch murmured, "My eyes are narrower, and darker. That's probably from my father. And my hair is wavier. But I have her face, mostly."

"…You sound uncertain, says I." The doll remarked.

Lelouch barked a bitter laugh. "No, really? I have no plan, I appear to be at a disadvantage, there could be a Kampfer around any corner and I wouldn't know, I look similar enough to my mother that a cursory glance through a history book could expose me, and if I'm found out then I'll be put back in the ground as the fate of the planet falls into the hands of one of the unfortunate people who figured out the truth. Uncertain is putting it lightly."

Then, Lelouch stopped herself and stared at the bulbous object in the upper corner of the room. She could see the little round lens of a camera as it swerved back and forth, and terror gripped her then. "Damn it." Lelouch swore, moving towards the locked door at one end of the room.

Ice formed around a door handle, forcing it into a brittle state. With a tug, she snapped it free and began searching… a closet. "No, no, no, no, no…" She panicked. Of all things, she forgot to disable the security camera. Lelouch vi Britannia was about to be defeated by a security camera in a goddamned clothing store.

She fell to her knees, pressing her hand against the floor. Her power over ice prodded and searched for something for her to freeze… and there, she found it. Through her fingertips, she could feel out a map of the underside of the store. And right there, she felt a pipe just under the floor boards – it most likely led to a sink somewhere in the back room. But with a little bit of ice, and some careful application of force, she could cover her tracks.

Frost began spreading throughout the store. Even as it did, Lelouch offered a glance towards the locked register… then thought better of it. "Not gonna steal anything?" The doll asked her, "You're destroying this whole store to hide a little bit of evidence, and you're not even going to bother robbing it first?"

"I thought about it," Lelouch replied with a calmness she did not have at the moment. "But it's empty, and this is more important." When frost covered every inch of the building, only then did Lelouch enact her plan. Ice exploded out from beneath the floor as the pipe below was burst wide open. The sprinkler system above her snapped and tore, unleashing more ice.

Then, Lelouch walked to the door and pressed her frosted fingertips against the lock. She swiped them down – swipe… swipe again… a third try, and the door clicked open. The doll was staring at her even as she fled the scene. And moments later, the ice quickly melted as high pressure water filled the small clothing store and destroyed everything inside.

It was a sloppy mess. Lelouch, in her shortsightedness, had risked death for no reason. She could have changed outfits back at the graveyard and that would have been fine. Now she had cameras to contend with – and oh god, how many cameras could there be? At least one in every store, easily more than that… even back in her time, she knew there were cameras everywhere.

How likely was it that someone else had seen her? What were the odds that someone holding a camera had watched her enter that store before fleeing the scene of the crime? Oh god, what if it was all over? She was hyperventilating, panting as she pressed her hands against the wall of an alleyway.

She needed to get a grip. She needed to snap out of it. If someone had caught her, or seen her, she'd be dead by now… right? That'd be the end of it. And the fact that she was still here meant that nobody had seen her.

Yet. Nobody had seen her yet.

"You need to work on your getaways."

Lelouch nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun on her heel, keeping herself standing as she pressed one hand against a brick wall and stared at that damned, cursed doll. It sat on a trash can. Staring at her – taunting her… "You knew I was being watched!" She accused it, "You're… You're trying to get me killed…"

"You're being paranoid. Would I have brought you back to life and pointed you to a clothing store with just the one camera in it if I knew that would get you killed? I'll admit, that's quite an unusual way to get rid of evidence – most Kampfer just use the tried and true method of burning the evidence. But I suppose flooding works, too."

"What the hell is the point of all of this?!" Lelouch snapped, "Point me at something, and I can fight it. But every instruction I've gotten from you has been vague and empty. How is fighting other Kampfer supposed to save my world? And how am I supposed to know where other Kampfer are, or how to find them? I have no resources, I have no shelter, and I have no identification…"

"Oh, you're used to starting from nothing–"

"I have never started from nothing! What do you take me for?" Lelouch hissed, "I… In retrospect, I have always been quite fortunate. I was born to royalty, I was saved by friends to my family, I was given an escape to a life of empty mediocrity and a means of achieving vengeance through a power nobody knew existed, and I had access to an abundance of resources every single step of the way. This is like comparing night and day. I'm starting from absolutely nothing."

The doll almost seemed to pout. "I gave you something. I gave you that bracelet, and I gave you a second chance at life! I gave you everything you could possibly want."

"You gave me a weapon, and the ability to play with ice. I need funds if I'm going to travel the world, and failing that I need to find someone who knows how to travel the world without getting caught. I need a list of targets, so I know who my enemies and allies are. I need a picture, I need a name, I need something."

"…I can't give you most of that."

"Why?!"

"Because that would ruin the game, says I."

"…" Lelouch stared at the doll. Her expression was wide-eyed, her mouth opening and closing as words were almost formed and then aborted. She trembled in place, filled with shock and rage.

"I told you we would go hunting. Now that we have satisfied your desire to dress a little differently, we will hunt. But I never said it would be easy, so I say. Saving the world is not an easy affair." The doll shook its head, "And here I thought you were up to the task, says I."

Lelouch crumpled to her knees. Her hands fell to her sides. "The more I think about this," she said, "The more I realize how absurd this all is. I need…" She shut her eyes, "I need money. First, I need funding. No matter the day or age, money is one of the most powerful forces on the planet."

"I can't really help with that–"

"Shut up." Lelouch raised a hand, "Just… shut up. And let me think. I need…" She licked her lips. "Allies. I cannot do this alone. You don't count – you're useless."

"…Hey…"

"Not all Kampfer are my enemies. It is possible that I could encounter a Kampfer capable of assisting me in finding other Kampfer that are more dangerous. Allying with them can be done, but I still need funding to facilitate this. And I have an ally. Unless she has formed another contract…" Lelouch's words dissolved into mumbles as she thought. She pressed her back against the alleyway wall and cradled her face with her hands.

She needed to find C.C.

If anyone was likely to know about Kampfers and be exempt from the rule about knowing about Kampfers, it would be the immortal witch. C.C. would also know the best way to travel from country to country without being detected. It was just a question of finding her. But after who knows how many years, would that even be possible? How did C.C. even go about hiding herself anyway?

But that raised another troubling question. "There's something else I've been forgetting, and I should have asked the moment I left that cemetery."

Lelouch stared at the doll. She fixed her eyes on it, as if to gauge it for any kind of reaction, any kind of tell. There was a sense of desperation in her tone as she spoke, and the question left her feeling hollow as it left her lips.

"How long have I been dead?"

The doll's cartoonish face twisted into a smile.

-x-

"Heeeellllo Pendragon! This is Gee-four-eighty-eight point nine here with another classic–"

"That's right Tom, and what a beaute that was – next up for our late night special, we'll be playing something special for all you Glinka fans out there."

"Righto, righto! And it's one of my favorites. Russlan and Ludmilla overture. Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you enjoy these next five minutes of heaven with us. And for all you folks burning the midnight oil, keep on trucking!"

A black car's doors were wide open. Marks had been dug into the sidewalk and asphalt, and long, sweeping cuts lined the metal of the machine as it sat running in the dark. Its windshield was in thousands of pieces, utterly shattered and leaving behind countless little scratches on the dashboard. The steering wheel was bent and torn free, embedded in a nearby wall.

Dents lined one side of the vehicle; its rear tires slashed wide open as its front left tire continued spinning separately from the axle. The gas pedal had been slammed down and wedged in place. Fuel drenched the alley, filling it with the stink of prehistoric blood. The car rested on a tilt, its roof shredded with impromptu ventilation. One headlight was broken, the other remained on and bright as it illuminated a trail of crimson leading up the side of a building.

Drip.

There was silence. A total quiet, save for rhythmic dripping that left its only listener relishing. A woman dressed in green took a deep breath of the air around her. It stank of sweat and iron. A pile of meat swung back and forth, held up and dangling by its ankles. The woman stared at it, keeping her hands on her knees as she waited.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She stood and stretched, popping joints in her back as she hugged herself. She blushed and delighted in the cacophony of her own making, each drip and spatter fading into the noise of brass and drums and strings.

In one hand, she spun a knife around as if moving to compose a song of her own. She hummed along, her smile never wavering as the light in the meat's eyes faded to a pale, white, glassy color reminiscent of eggs in the pan. There was a hissing noise of static from a television in the room down the carpeted hallway, but the little details were a fickle thing best left unmentioned to her.

An open carton of milk had been discarded some time ago, with whatever was left of its contents dripping onto the floor behind her as she stared at the meat in front of her. Held in place by chains and hooks, it was a miracle that the thing's arm came free and fell to the alleyway below with an almost audible thump.

Her other hand, meanwhile, brought a separate knife to her lips. She caressed it, her long tongue slithering along its blunt side as crimson coated her lips, and she shook at the feeling. Her eyes rolled up, and as her attention deviated from the body that swung back and forth like a pendulum, she blinked.

When her eyes opened, there was no more dripping. Just silence, save for the ringing of midnight bells and the jangling of chains. A pout fell upon her as she sighed.

Her eyes, narrowed and serpentine, leered at the knife in her hand as she searched it for blood. With a flick of each wrist, her blades vanished, and from her back pocket she slipped out a little pink tablet – "Russlan… and… Ludmilla…" she purred, typing the phrase in and saving it for later. "Overture…"

Her phone shone a bright, plain white, illuminating the room around her even as she worked. "Bum, bum-be-dum dumm…" she hummed along to the song, clicking her phone off as prerecorded applause echoed throughout the night. An ad for candy bars started playing, and in the dark of a broken-open apartment, the bright blue bracelet she wore began to glow.

A grin crossed her dark-skinned face. "Hey, hey~!" She sang, "Someone new's in town already~?" The woman giggled. "Oh, it's gonna be a wonderful night~!"

The crescent moon, cast in long silhouettes of blackening clouds, seemed yellow to her as she stepped forwards and off the edge of the building. The air was light to her, and offered no resistance as she slowed to a crawl. She did not land so much as walked to the bottom, walking past a car that was rapidly fading away.

-x-

End Eisritter Ch. 002