Lelouch stirred and found himself lying on the floor.

What the hell?

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and looked around, and found that he was still in the Ashford dorm. The bedsheets were all over the floor, but that didn't seem to effect C.C. in the slightest. She was laying in the bed, knees curled up to her stomach, looking down at Lelouch with a look that could only be described as utter apathy.

"Bad dream?" C.C. asked.

Lelouch gave an intelligent-sounding "rrghargha" and laid there on the floor for several seconds before peeling his eyes back open and rising to a standing position. His back ached, and when he stretched his neck, he heard it pop multiple times.

"You were mumbling in your sleep," she continued. "I could hear things like nudity, Monaco, something about your courage pulling you through… something, and Swiss army knives. Are you sure Sayoko didn't slip something in your food last night?"

Lelouch managed to knock over every item on his nightstand before finding his cellphone. "One, why are you in my room when I have a perfectly nice couch set up for you, and Two, why did you sleep in my bed?"

"The couch was uncomfortable; your bed is."

Lelouch spared a glance at his alarm clock. Quarter after 6 AM. It's been less than twenty-four hours since the Purists enlisted themselves as the governors of Area 11.

Abruptly, he turned towards his closet, sliding it open with unnecessary force.

"Awake?" C.C. drawled.

"If the Purists remain in power, then they'll put anti-Japanese policies into motion," Lelouch rasped, sorting through various suitcases and storage boxes. "They'll remove them from the military, and then the racism that infests this godforsaken place will increase! Elitists like those are little more than puppets for the Emperor."

Finding the sizable case he wanted, Lelouch practically tore it open, checking to make sure Zero's custome and helmet were inside, Lelouch slung it over his shoulder and turned his hips to the door. "The people who live here don't deserve to be victims of their narrow-minded idiocy. And they're going to get everything that's coming to them—"

"Lelouch vi Britannia."

That stopped Lelouch. What the hell.

"I never told you that I was a Prince," Lelouch whispered, fixing his eyes on the ceiling.

"I didn't have to ask," C.C. responded. "You need to calm down."

"I need to act quickly. The Purists aren't going to wait around!"

"I agree," C.C. emphasized, folding her arms. "But acting quickly and being impulsive are two entirely different things. Never let your anger cloud your judgment. Ever. You need to think before rushing into a battle like this."

"Bystander," Lelouch spat. "It must be so easy for you to just sit on the sidelines and judge others while you don't do any work of your—" Lelouch paused, took a deep breath. "…I know. I know you're right. But if I don't do something now, then everything I don't want to see happen is going to happen!"

"I agree," C.C. said. "But this Jeremiah guy isn't going to be able to do anything, at least not right now. Think about it. If he just walked into a military base and began condemning every single Eleven now, there'd be riots, increased revolution, more attention to the Opposition's cause. He'd be indirectly aiding his own enemy."

Lelouch frowned. "You have a point."

"And laws aren't passed in a few hours," C.C. said. "At least not in Britannia."

Surprised, Lelouch lowered his arms. "You've been to the Homeland?"

"A long time ago."

"Homeland-born or foreigner?"

C.C. chuckled, with a far-off look in her eyes. "It's been so long I really can't remember where I was born. Doesn't really matter, anyway." She faced Lelouch. "Think through your implications and goals before acting upon them. You have more time than you think. I just know it."

And with that, she left the room. "I'm going to go get some breakfast."

"Outside?"

"Yes," C.C. stated, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You're hiding from the military. Don't you care?"

"You think I don't have disguises?"

"Wait, is that why you took so long to find me?" Lelouch questioned, curious.

"Yes. Goodbye for now."

Alone in the room, Lelouch looked down at his Zero outfit, and slowly began to do what he did best: plan.

[*****]

PARIS, FRANCE

Even in the still of the night, Paris emanated a certain energy and atmosphere no other place in the world possessed. The sense of scale and grandeur, of physicality, was all around, even if it wasn't readily apparent at first, given Paris' narrow, windy roads and packed-together buildings. A traveler or tourist would have their breath taken away; even for someone like Lady Viola Mancini, who had lived in the metropolis virtually all her life, Paris was always full of pleasant surprises, no matter where you went.

Under the spell of the city, it was almost easy to forget all the violence. Almost.

Viola Mancini rose from her desk and glanced at herself in the mirror. Thirty-one years old, tall and thin though she did not think of herself as tall or particularly thin, with a narrow chin, bright maroon eyes, and pale skin, what many called the "Parisian Tan". She had thick, straight, mid-length blonde hair that touched her shoulder blades; she'd inherited the texture and color from her maman. The eyes were her father's.

Even with her being the de facto leader of the European Union, hunted by the Britannian army and airforce, almost constantly on the move and directing her revolution with her similarly mad companions and confidants, Viola Mancini still managed to look professional, happy, and dapper. She even made a point to do so – though many would call it vanity, Viola thought of it more as keeping up appearances. With her neatly groomed, sharp hair, double-breasted red coat atop her pressed European Union uniform, and the general disposition of someone who was comfortable with their own identity and confident in their abilities, her appearance seemed to represent the incredibly durability of the European Union. Underground newspapers had begun to call her ever-present smile the "Mancini Grin". Like anyone widely considered to be a hero, or at the very least an exceptional person, Viola had the aura of invincibility.

And yet, we're losing. European journalists, politicians, and analysts had reasonably asked why the European Union and its multitude of nations had not managed to overpower Britannia, given that the E.U.'s territory was almost twice the size of the Britannian Homeland, Area 11 included. After all, European engineers were manufacturing Knightmares at almost the same pace as Britannian developers did, thanks to the CASTER fiasco, and the size of their combined military strength was assuredly bigger than Britannia's, although there were no official figures on that yet.

The question of "Why?" had stymied Viola Mancini. The reports she'd received from the field of action and seen with her own eyes varied widely. Sometimes Britannia had the strategical upper hand, and sometimes they had the technical upper hand, in numbers and in tools. Sometimes they exploited holes in the EU's defense. Britannian field commanders seemed to have an unusually clear idea of what the E.U. field commanders were planning, which – naturally – led to some conspiracy theories that hadn't entirely faded away.

Viola adjusted her scarf, reminding herself once again that she looked ready to take on the world. She had to be brave, for the sake of her compatriots.

There was a series of knocks on her office door.

"Entrez," Viola permitted. Stepping through the door was her war secretary, Nicolas Claude. The simple black costume, inexpensive but practical chaussure élégante, red tie; he looked absolutely normal, perfect for blending into the background. Nobody would ever get the impression that he was a trained military man or high-ranking politician; the only thing most people remembered about him was the coarse, dark beard.

"Fin pret? The ambassadors are chomping at the bit waiting for you," Nicolas said, drawing an envelope from his pocket.

"Enthousiaste et opérationnelle," Viola confirmed, picking up a folder, fat with files and paperwork, and she exited her office into the perilously austere hallways of the Parisian Embassy. "En bas, Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"

"We have about sixteen delegates. We're trying to decide on the issue of Norway," Nicolas said, glancing at his handheld and reading through the list of objectives; without looking up, he stopped at an elevator and keyed in the floor number. "The Britannians have currently passed through the seaside defensive perimeter, according to General Einar's report, and they're making headway towards Oslo at great speed."

"Ahhh, that must be Cornelia," Viola mused with a smile, stepping inside the cool elevator. "Ever the master of confrontation, non? She has taken on the Middle East, and now she believes she can take on doomsday! Pride is like a blindfold, non?"

Nicolas sighed and opened the contents of the envelope as the elevator made its descent. "She is proud and scornful. Like most Britannians."

"Je connais la musique," Viola boasted. "She'll make some headway into Norway, I'd wager, but eventually she will pull out, when she realizes she bit off more than she could chew!"

"Just because that's what happened in the Emirates doesn't mean it'll happen again!"

"Quand meme. Britannians are cowardly. And it's strange – I thought cowardice was a native problem."

"It just feels like we're fighting an uphill battle," Nicolas sighed as the elevator opened.

"We are," Viola admitted. They were met by two guards, who saluted and gestured down a hallway lined with sleek metal. "Merci. Britannia is not the Britannia of propaganda – they are a legitimate, organized force fighting for control. But we can use that to our advantage. This deep crisis can be a defining display of power yet!"

"And there you go with your boundless optimism," Nicolas muttered. It was hard to tell, but Viola thought he was grinning behind the beard.

An electronic door slid open to reveal the E.U. Planning Zone, a wide, dome-like room filled to the brim with larger-than-life screens, lights, and digital readouts of all sorts, the stuff of science fiction lore. There were multiple ambassadors all gathered around a metallic table that served as a casing of sorts for a huge, interactive digital map and information system; all one had to do was reach over the table slightly and they could call up entire archives of information and videos at the touch of a hand.

Viola counted at least eleven ambassadors (twenty-two if she included their accompanying secretaries) all with name tags indicating their name and country.

"Ah! Good night, Lady Viola. It's a pleasure you could make it here," Italy said, holding a glass of wine in his hand.

"A pleasure to be present, Sir Alecio. Has the wine come out already?" Viola Mancini took a seat and watched as Nicolas sat beside her. "Let's not get drunk too quickly, amico mio."

"Or perhaps we ought to drink," Poland claimed, spinning a blade around her index finger for show. "I have excellent news on the Warsaw front! We have bested Lord Rai and his regiments, and they surrendered almost precisely twenty-four hours ago."

There was a round of clapping and cheering, and Viola's heart swelled with pride. "I enjoy this good news! We can discuss what to do with the repairs and negotiations afterwards. Perhaps we could keep up the good news in Norway…?"

Spain sighed. "Good news is in short supply over there. Lo siento para ser un portador de malas noticias."

"Then by all means, get to the figurative point."

Spain's secretary reached over and called up a page of information on the blue screen; he directed their attention to recorded footage of seaside warfare in Arendal. The footage was striking in its broadest strokes – based on what Viola could piece out, the Britannians were the ones defending their territory, not the other way around like it usually was.

"Explain," Viola said, eyeing the screen in fascination.

"The Britannian submarines and naval fleet came in on the coast here," the secretary said, with a couple of quick strokes on the map. "Based on our eyewitness' claims, the Norwegian Infantry was holding them back from ever getting past the coastline, but they were suddenly attacked from behind. Based on what we can piece together… some Britannian troops got through a security perimeter and began setting up hiding places in the city, making a dash for the beach when their cue was given."

Getting clever, ah? "Who is leading them?"

"Second Princess Cornelia li Britannia," Spain's secretary explained. Viola could hear the Arabian Ambassador groan in agony, and she almost laughed.

"Wonder if she's compensating for something," Switzerland muttered.

"What are the numbers on this data?" Nicolas spoke up, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. Viola poured herself a glass of wine at Italy's behest.

Spain and his secretary looked at each other, back at Nicolas. "About eight hundred Knightmares. A little over half of those are Sutherlands; the rest are Vincents, Glasgows, and Regalias. Two thousand or so foot troops."

Viola nearly choked on her white wine. "Eight hundred… two thousand? That's… an awfully large amount! The figures haven't ever been that high, unless anybody else has different data…"

"No," Portugal confessed, playing with her tie. "Nowhere near… this."

"There were, at best, two hundred Knightmares in Athens," Greece proclaimed, scratching his beard. "And less than half of 2,000 in foot soldiers. Maybe they're getting smarter."

Viola Mancini didn't even have to think twice about this. "Let's pool all of our available resources together. I'll need about five hundred Estrellas, six, seven thousand or so rifles, and some of your best available soldiers and planes. If we export the Estrella and use the supply route that links Denmark to Sweden, then we can probably get the Knightmares to Oslo in no time, assuming there are minimal hiccups along the way. We should also consider delivering a month's supply of medicine and rations."

"But we're behind on production," Italy announced. "We don't have anywhere the number of Estrellas necessary for that. And the development model hasn't been confirmed for battle yet."

"Consider the budget," Portgual stressed. "The costs of the repairs from the engagement in Russia and Finland, both mechanical and human, are extraordinary on their own. And although we have the Estrella mass-production model, it'll become inferior quickly, especially considering Britannia is in an arms race right now. They'll create something that will turn our models to mincemeat."

"I'm aware of the budgetary and legal problems, but I've taken all that into consideration. We can't afford to be behind schedule at this moment. The Parisian pre-set budget for Knightmare production, right now, is… oh, I'd say roughly 6.7%. I can gradually raise and augment it to about 8% before it becomes illegal, based on the Provisionary Constitution. We'll also devise a secondary amendment to give the Norwegian and Swedish soldiers more arms. Norway needs us, after all, and if Cornelia li Britannia conquers Norway by the end of her campaign, then she has direct access to Denmark or New Wales, which – given the proper channels – will invariably link to our capital here in Paris."

"Systematic destruction," Arabia muttered.

Too right.

"That is not what will happen," Viola proclaimed. "Pride is a blindfold. Britannia may be experts, but they do not know our countries and our tenacity like we do. If we begin saying words like 'impossible' or 'hopeless' now, then our situations assuredly will be. All in to pass on the decision of Knightmare construction and exportation?"

Seeing no foreseeably better options, after some counter-arguments and devil's advocate-esque statements, the members slowly but surely all agreed, with a resounding: "All In."

"It'd be much easier if we could just kidnap a Britannian engineer or scientist," Spain said, almost dangerously. "We could force them to show us their schematics and upcoming projects. It'd be like candy to the science buffs."

"Easy there, Ambassador Sir Garcia. Now, nothing is presently set in stone – I want you to report the details of this meeting back to your Prime Ministers, get them to talk with their Engineering and Mechanical Ministers and their Economic Advisers, as quickly as possible. I know I say this often, but remember to have hope, everyone – it's a sign that we still have all of our cards ready to play. The charms of the European Union will take over, like they always do. Now, to move on… Lady Faun of Monaco. Your issue?"

"Oh, right. In the past five weeks…"

[*****]

OUTSKIRTS OF AREA 11

"A mobile base?!"

Took the words right out of my mouth, Tamaki. The mobile base in question was like a massive Caravan, its black and red exterior contrasting sharply with the bland, gray overtones of the Area 11 Industrial Complex. It was expansive enough to fit several people inside, yet small and unassuming enough that it wouldn't have warranted suspicion. Stylish, yet practical. Kallen turned to her comrades; alongside Ohgi and Tamaki, Minami, Naomi, and Sugiyama had come along, having been convinced to follow Zero after the combined displays of power in Shinjuku and the Tokyo Settlement. It was comforting to have more people along for the journey – it would make the battles to come easier.

"And you're positive these are the coordinates Zero sent you?" Naomi asked, toying with some loose strands of her blue hair.

"As if the friggin' mobile base wasn't enough evidence?!" Tamaki gushed, in comical shock and awe.

"Yeah, they match up exactly… you guys ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I suppose," Sugiyama said, thoughtfully.

"I mean it, guys. We walk in there, and we've basically signed ourselves over to Zero and whatever he wants. Are you ready for that?"

"He seems to know what he's doing," Minami mused, adjusting his bandana. "And I think the fact that he's relying on us proves that we're at least somewhat important to him."

"Especially considering all the supposed connections he has," Naomi muttered. "A little connection can go a long way, and I think we'll need all the support we can get."

Ohgi nodded.

Ohgi probably won't be leading us anymore, Kallen realized with some vague surprise. Ohgi had always been calm, methodical, and wise, but he'd never been much of a tactical genius. But he knew how to approach a situation carefully. Ohgi stepped up to the prime door of the mobile base and slid it open with an electronic hum. Kallen stepped up to get a closer look; much to her surprise, the interior looked cozy, warm, and elegant, with sophisticated purple metal lining the walls. The whole thing seemed to have a unique air of cleanliness and secrecy.

"What's wrong? Come inside. Don't want to arouse suspicion, do you?"

There was that distorted, inhuman voice Kallen had come to know and love. Deciding it wasn't wise to keep Zero waiting any longer, Kallen stepped inside and got an eyeful of the full, complete interior. It looked like a place where a small army could both relax and plan ahead for future endeavors; Kallen could see a counter, cabinets, and a refrigerator leading into the living room, which had a half-circle couch surrounding a trestle table. There was a widescreen television in the corner. Kallen spotted a ladder leading up to the second floor, where she presumed the dorms and bathrooms were placed. It had places to eat, sleep, hide, and relax. Back out in the Shinjuku Ghetto or the eastern plains, there was none of that.

"Shit, this is fancy," Naomi said, summing Kallen's thoughts up perfectly.

"Yeah…" Kallen muttered. Her eyes fell open Zero; with his pressed, purple uniform and imposing mask, he had the tenor of immortality at that very moment. He was sitting in what looked like a planning room, with maps, small laptops, and numerous files and folders surrounding the room. He rose from where he was seated and walked out into the living room, causing silence all around Kallen.

"As of now, this will be our hideout," Zero proclaimed. "I figured the Ghetto wouldn't be a very comfortable, safe place to plan your operations. It's not much, but I figured it would make do."

"No, we appreciate it very much, Zero," Kallen stammered, bowing her head in appreciation.

"How the hell'd you do it?" Tamaki scratched his head and slumped onto the couch, already making himself at home.

"I have connections, particularly to venal nobleman. I promised him a position of power, he gave me this for free. Simple as that."

"And no strings attached? Nobody can trace it back to you?" Ohgi said, hesitantly, not wanting to disrespect Zero.

Zero chuckled. "Not a soul."

Kallen didn't want to think about the implications behind that statement. "And besides, I've already bested the Britannian military twice. Getting something like this was nowhere near as involving or difficult."

"You're a cocky bastard. I like that," Tamaki spouted.

"Can we take a seat?" Ohgi asked politely, gesturing to the couch.

"You may," Zero said.

Kallen took a seat on the floor, folding her feet underneath her thighs. Everyone followed suit, either placing themselves on the floor or sitting on the couch. Zero took a chair and sat in front of everyone, his back turned to the television.

"I won't insult your intelligence. You all know why we're here."

Kallen clenched her fists.

"The Purists have left the shadows and taken center stage. They finally cut ties with Prince Clovis, who is still nowhere to be seen, and decided to seize upon the opportunity to oust General Bartley. This cannot be allowed to continue. If they remain in power for any length of time, they'll begin targeting Honorary Britannians and Japanese. Japan will become a secondary Homeland by that point. It's too early to gauge how serious they are, or how far they'll go, but after seeing their actions involving Suzaku Kururugi, I doubt they're going to be considerate or subtle about it."

"And what do you suggest we do?" Ohgi said. "We're willing to defer to your judgment… right?" He said, looking around at everyone for confirmation. There were a round of nods.

"Destroy them," Zero said simply. Kallen expected no less, but it was still a surprise when he said it.

"Destroy…?" Ohgi questioned, looking shocked. "Zero, I'm sorry, I don't doubt your abilities, but it's too soon to do something—"

"No. On the contrary, we need to act as quickly as possible," Zero rebuffed. "Their sudden and hasty ousting of Prince Clovis has left behind a vacuum of power that people are going to try and fill. You don't just dissolve a government system like that and expect that things are going to go smoothly. The Purists' spheres of influence are limited. They are rich, they are entitled, and they are powerful, but there are more than a few Britannians in Area 11 who enjoyed the cushy lifestyle under Clovis. He had supporters, people who were unaware of what he really did to others. There are going to be riots. In fact, there already have been."

"I'm not surprised," Naomi said, leaning into the couch. "I heard a lot of shouting and the sound of gunfire while I was trying to go to sleep last night. It was kind of distant, but you don't ever mistake the sound of gunfire. Ever."

Is this for the best? Even if Clovis is gone – or maybe even dead – the Purists aren't much better. Maybe they won't outright massacre us, but they'll try to whip us into obedience. Not much better at all…

"In addition, due to this sudden power vacuum, if we battle the Purists and defeat them, then it would be a direct line to the Presidential Palace. We could very well take control."

Kallen glanced at Zero, excited, wringing his hands.

"Are you serious?!" Tamaki said, slapping his hand on the side of his head.

"Area 11 is in a state of political unrest now. One morning, Clovis is in charge; the next, Bartley. The next? Gottwald and his Purist comrades. It's like a never ending game of bait-and-switch. The media is suspecting foul play." To demonstrate, Zero picked up a remote and turned on what looked like a DVD player. "I recorded this last morning."

Kallen lifted her eyes to the television; she vaguely recognized Diethard Reid, sitting in front of a projected display.

"After Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald's address to the nation last night, announcing the Purists' impromptu takeover, Area 11 is in a state of political unrest. Conspiracy theories have begun unearthing themselves. One tabloid speculates the murder of Prince Clovis; another tabloid suspects sabotage and deception on the part of General Bartley. There are some political analysts who believe that there is a Chinese spanner in the ranks of the Britannian military; however, none of these theories have any sufficient proof yet. Jeremiah Gottwald has announced his new position as the stand-in Viceroy; other Purists rose to obtain the positions of Barons and Baronesses. In furt—"

Click. Zero set the remote down on the table.

Kallen rubbed her eyes, nervous. "Zero, this… is a lot to take in."

"Understandably," Zero sympathized. "I'm not saying we need to go now. It'd be suicide to go now – they currently have the physical advantage. But… acting quickly and being impulsive are two entirely different things. That's why I called you all here today. We need to work out a strategy to deal with the Purists as quickly and effectively as possible."

"Um… when do we start?" Ohgi said, taking a deep breath.

"I have your full support?" Zero questioned. "Don't join me if you aren't fully prepared to take orders from me. I will listen to your ideas and thoughts, but ultimately you'll answer to me. If there are any objections, speak up."

A few, tense, silent seconds passed.

Zero nodded, visibly relaxing. "I see. In that case… here." Zero pulled out a supply container and opened it, passing it over to Minami. "This are your new uniforms."

"Uniforms?" Minami asked, reaching into the supply container. He began distributing the outfits one by one.

"Yes," Zero said.

"That's why you called me to ask about my measurements, right?" Kallen asked, facing Zero.

"Yeah, I got that same call," Sugiyama said, unfolding his clothes.

"Correct." Kallen unfolded her uniform and looked over it. A black-and-grey jacket bedecked with pockets, a gold zipper dividing it right down the middle; thin, shrapnel-and-bullet proof tactical vests that allowed for easy mobility; a pair of form-fitting black shorts that ran down the thigh and stopped near the kneecap. Much like the mobile base, they were stylish yet practical.

"The vests aren't standard ballistic vests or riot armor; they're solely for protection only when you need it," Zero said, locking the supply kit back up. "As it is, we'll be doing most of our fighting from our Knightmares."

"These are cool," Sugiyama said. "Wait, Knightmares? Have you managed to get any?"

"They'll be delivered shortly. It's partially why I want to wait before acting."

Unbelievable! "Did you get the Knightmares for free, too?" Minami asked, bedazzled.

"Close enough."

"I like these," Ohgi said. "These make us look like a… organization. Like a legitimate fighting force."

"That's the point," Zero said, nodding appraisingly. "We are no longer the Japanese Opposition. We're—"

"Do you work for the JLF?" Ohgi said, then blushing when he realized he'd interrupted Zero. "Oh! My ba—"

Zero shook his head. "To tell you the truth, I don't know where their location is. They're the biggest anti-Britannian force in Japan, and yet they're perfectly hidden. Go figure. Do any of you have connections to the JLF?"

"Our… former leader did," Ohgi said, glancing at Kallen, whose eyes were focused on the tactical vests. "Naota Kozuki. But they cut off communication with him some time before his death."

"Any reason why?"

"Probably didn't want to involve themselves with street terrorists," Naomi bitterly muttered.

"Even though we're the only ones who get up off our asses and do something," Tamaki spat. "They act all high and mighty even though they don't do a damn thing."

Zero faced Kallen. "I recognize the name Kozuki. Who was he to you?"

"Brother," Kallen said, straight-faced.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Kallen shrugged. "It was a long time ago." Two months. I don't know if Mom has gotten over it yet, either.

Ohgi looked like he was about to say something, but Zero cut in. "Regardless, let's not focus on what we've lost. Let's focus on what we can obtain."

"I like that. Can I go change into this outfit?" Sugiyama said, standing up and stretching his thin arms. "I really want to see what they look like."

"Yes," Zero said, gesturing to the ceiling. "There are dorms upstairs. You can decide who goes where. Once you're done, come back downstairs so we can begin planning."

"Yes, sir," Kallen said automatically.

[*****]

Alone in the living room, Lelouch sank back into the couch, allowing himself a moment of laziness and human vulnerability.

This mask and uniform will take some getting used to. But it gets the job done…

Lelouch turned on the DVD player, rewound the tape back to Diethard's news report.

"After Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald's address to the nation last night, announcing the Purists' impromptu takeover, Area 11 is in a state of political unrest. Conspiracy theories have begun unearthing themselves. One tabloid speculates the murder of Prince Clovis; another tabloid suspects sabotage and deception on the part of General Bartley. There are some political analysts…"

Lelouch clenched his fists. I refuse to let you get away with this, Jeremiah. That spat we had in the Tokyo Settlement was a game, a pissing contest. This? This is personal.

Lelouch had plans for Clovis, ones that could have potentially gotten him closer to the Homeland, closer to the truth behind C.C. and her experimentation. Clovis was the link to Geass, to the Britannia family, to the Area 11 military, and then a blue-haired, hardline nationalist upstart came and ruined any of Lelouch's opportunities for Clovis.

But it's fine. You rushed, and now… I have an opening. If all goes according to my ideal plan, then I can oust you and find some way to put the Japanese resistance and myself into power. From thence, I should make a treaty with the European Union. The Chinese Federation wants Japan for their own gain, so they likely wouldn't be willing to play game, but the E.U. might be a little warmer than that. They have every reason to hate Britannia, and they could use the Sakuradite resources here to power their Knightmares. That would be sufficient collateral.

Lelouch raised his hand and pressed a button on the side of his helmet; the helmet slid off, freeing Lelouch's head and hair. He gazed into the mask's opaque exterior.

And maybe I can get one step closer to the Homeland this way. One step closer to finding out the truth about Mother… one step closer to destroying that man…

Lelouch heard the sound of descending footsteps. Resigning himself, he put his mask back on, ready for anything.

[*****]

THE SWORD OF AKASHA

Two brothers standing in the shadow of a hulking sky temple, overlooking an expansive, sunset-laden sky, heavy with clouds. These two brothers were a fascinating study in contrasts. The older brother was not much taller than four foot two, wearing a regal white-and-purple suit, with enormous blonde curls cascading to the floor. He had the body language of a wizened old man, but the countenance of a child. The younger brother, on the other hand, was a six foot eight monster, a bear-like man with swooping gray hair tightly combed and intricately curled into looking shorter than it actually was.

The eldest brother glanced up at his younger brother. "I thought you might like to know. Clovis has been taken to the Directorate – I'll return there later tonight to interrogate him."

The youngest brother nodded. "Your resilience is as impressive as it is frustrating, V.V. You've proven yourself once again."

V.V. nodded, looking around. "It's only a matter of time before we find C.C. as it is. Having Gottwald in charge will speed up the pace. He's a talented general, but he's also obsessive. Once he tracks down Zero, he'll inevitably track down C.C."

"Clovis was incompetent," the youngest brother said, his voice impassive and dark. "He desired a chance to prove himself and his prodigal, reckless tendencies ruined him. And to think he came close to being useful."

V.V. chuckled coarsely. "You know, he still thinks that you don't know about C.C.'s existence, or the fact that he found her?"

"Hmph. He's a fool of a child. I predicted his punishment years before it even happened. The weak will always be conquered by the strong. This world has no place for weakness – I have done too much good for it to be tampered by the weak."

V.V. checked his handheld, then let it rest back in his pocket, rising. "My chief enforcer just reported back in. Clovis is starting to wake up. I'm going to head through one of the Akasha Portals and distract him long enough so our plans can continue. Maybe I'll get him to be a janitor or something."

"Do so, brother. The project has to continue – we don't have any more time to waste."

V.V. smiled. "As you wish, Emperor Charles zi Britannia."