Episode Two – A New Power

It didn't really register at first; not as more than a flicker of emerald out of the corner of her eye. But suddenly the roar of the panicking crowds died down, and as Anastasia turned to gaze into the alleyway, she felt her entire world shift beneath her feet.

She had never met the woman. She knew that; with a memory like hers, she truly never forgot a face. And yet, she felt that she knew the emerald-haired creature who was hovering at the back of the alleyway. Anastasia felt the power around her; a strange sense of certainty, of confidence that did not come in a mere mortal. That did not come in someone like Anastasia.

Without quite knowing why, Anastasia turned into the alley, approaching the woman as she might have approached Zero, when she was a child. The woman's tawny eyes followed Anastasia's movements without emotion, a huntress watching her prey.

It seemed an eternity, even after Anastasia stopped in front of the woman, before she spoke.

"I knew I had chosen right in you," The woman observed in a cool voice, throwing back a strand of her overlong green hair. Anastasia frowned, stepping back slightly. Something about this woman just wasn't right…

"Who are you?" She asked warily.

The strange creature gave a light laugh. Amusement flickered briefly in her golden eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She taunted.

Anastasia narrowed her eyes angrily, whipping around and starting to walk away.

"Wait," The woman called after her, a note of desperation in her voice. Anastasia could not help but pause at the entrance of the alley, glancing over her shoulder, "Don't you wish there was something you could do to change it all?"

Anastasia stiffened. Slowly, impossibly slowly, she turned back to face the stranger.

A tense silence fell over the meeting hall as the Black Knights listened to the panic taking place on the streets above. Kallen held her breath, waiting for it to end, for it was a sound she found impossible to ignore. The sound of her own failure.

"Come on, Kallen," Ohgi coaxed, putting one strong hand on her shoulder, which she threw off with a jerk, "It wasn't your fault. There was no way we could have beat them."

"We abandoned him," Kallen answered tonelessly, "Abandoned him to those Chinese monsters. And now he's gone."

"We don't know that, Kallen," Ohgi insisted, "He's always survived before."

"It only takes once." Kallen snapped.

Everyone in the room flinched.

"What do you think he's doing, anyways?" It was the rich, arrogant voice of Rakshata. Everyone glanced around in surprise. She had said nothing since they had returned to the base, "Where can he possibly go? He's an outlaw in all parts of the world now."

"You forget, Rakshata," Kallen pointed out coolly, "That Zero had his beginning as an outlaw in all parts of the world."

There was another long moment of silence, and Kallen knew they were all wondering.

What could Zero possibly be doing…?

Awareness brought with it pain, as it always did. His head ached, his limbs spiked with pain every time he tried to move them. Drawing breath hurt more than it was worth.

God, he hated awareness.

Slowly, more and more of that silent mist dropped away, and he stirred. Not because he wanted to; no, he was in too much pain to want to move. He stirred because he had to. Even through the blackness of would-be death, he had retained on certain truth.

Nunnally was still in danger.

As though his thoughts had shown on his face, a wet cloth was pressed to his brow.

"Suzaku," Nunnally whispered, "Are you awake, Suzaku?"

He stirred, trying to force his eyes open. Blinding pain shot through his ribs, and he gasped. Nunnally cried out, and the cloth returned to his face.

Hissing in pain, Suzaku tried again. This time, he managed to force his eyes open. At first, he was greeted with nothing but blinding white. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut again for a moment.

"Suzaku?" Nunnally repeated.

He opened his eyes, squinting at her. She gave a sigh of relief, lowering her hand, nearly dropping the cloth.

"You're alright," She whispered, her large blue eyes filling with tears.

"H-hn…" Suzaku struggled to sit up, catching his breath in a gasp as he wrenched his injured muscles. Nunnally reached out anxiously, but he waved her off, pushing himself to his knees. But he didn't have the strength to stand.

"Don't hurt yourself," Nunnally whispered fearfully. Suzaku shook his head, ignoring the spinning it caused.

"No," He whispered, his voice choked, "I'm fine…"

Slowly, he raised his head, looking around.

The cave was large and dark, the steady drip of water echoing through it, striking pain through his aching head. He didn't really remember coming here. He'd been in such a blur of blood-loss when they'd arrived…

"Where are we…?" He wondered aloud.

Nunnally glanced away, "I… don't know." She murmured, "Some island, I think."

Suzaku frowned, glaring around warily. It made sense, he had to admit. When they'd escaped from the palace, he'd made straight for the sea, where the enemy wouldn't be able to follow them. Not that he'd had any clue where he was going, in the end…

And if he had no clue…

How were the Black Knights supposed to find them?

The city was dark and quiet. In the wake of the night's panic, no one seemed to want to lave the confines of their houses. Everyone seemed to think that the Chinese Federation was going to show up in Tokyo that night.

It was a silly notion, really. China had invaded Britannia. It took a long time to get armies across oceans, even now. They were safe…

Tonight, at least.

Either way, Malcolm didn't much care. There was no one out tonight. Which made the streets much easier to patrol.

He was half way through his shift. He had started at midnight, and he couldn't help the irritation that filled him. Two hours had passed, and he hadn't seen anyone else on the streets. It seemed even the homeless had hidden themselves away.

So why was Malcolm patrolling? For what? Even Kallen, one of their strongest leaders, had admitted that there was no chance of invasion tonight. And no one was out…

Something moved just within his field of view.

Reacting on instincts trained into him by the Black Knights, Malcolm whirled around, raising his gun and aiming it into the alley.

"Who's there?" He demanded.

No one answered. Not that he had expected them to. They wouldn't, if they were smart. And it was too dark to see anything…

Moving slowly, Malcolm crept to the mouth of the alley. He peered into the blackness, hunting out the deepest shadows. There seemed to be a figure there, hiding in the gloom…

A blinding pain shot up his spine, and then there was nothing.

The woman had said nothing since they had left the alley.

C.C., she called herself. This mysterious, sarcastic woman with the strange, golden eyes. Anastasia had never met anyone like her. Passionate and cold, whimsical and focused, naïve and yet the wisest creature Anastasia could imagine. She lived at both ends of the scale, never in the middle like most people. And Anastasia could not shake the sensation that this C.C. was not, in the end, quite human.

It did not help that she had no idea where she was being taken. They had been walking for an impossible amount of time, and yet it seemed merely seconds. And Anastasia had the distinct impression that she had stopped walking some time back. That she had, somehow, left her body behind. There was an eerie silence about this place she could see. The only sounds were the clack of her shoes against the unnaturally cold stone stairs C.C. guided her over. The clack of her shoes… and an odd rushing that seemed to take the place of silence.

"Where are we?" She demanded, nervous. C.C.'s only response was a short laugh and a tug on her hand, telling her to keep moving. Mostly telling her to shut up. Which Anastasia did. After all, she had agreed to this. Agreed to meet whomever had sent C.C., caught up by the woman's last remark.

Don't you wish there was something you could do to change it all?

Yes, she did wish that. And she was starting to realize how stupid that wish really was.

What had she gotten herself into?

Without any warning, Anastasia raised her foot to find the next stair, and found only open air. She stumbled, reaching out to catch herself. She scraped her hand across the cold stone, feeling warm blood swell out to wet her skin. Flushing slightly, she scrambled back to her feet, only to find that her blunder had been met with laughter.

Two types of laughter.

Anastasia froze.

The first laugh, she knew almost too well, after the long journey to wherever and whenever this was. The chiming, mocking laugh of C.C.

But the second voice was more different from C.C.'s than Anastasia could believe. Deep, full, commanding, and more than a little bit mad. It sent waves of shivers down her spine, and she reached up slowly, pulling the blindfold off of her face.

"Hello, Anastasia,"

The blindfold slipped with a soft rush from her suddenly useless hand.