Author's Note: My sincerest appreciation for Priestess of Groove, who worked her magic again over my story. I am also grateful for ProtoBlues's insight for making the characters and the story more realistic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass in any way or form.
Recommend: For best viewing pleasure, set you width to ½.
Chapter 1
Private Rowland Theobald leaned heavily against a wall. The assault rifle in his hands felt clunky and leaden. His throat felt like sandpaper whenever he swallowed and he had difficulty talking around it.
Before him, the ninety-ninth Emperor when into what he could only categorize as an epileptic seizure. From his vantage point, the young Emperor convulsed uncontrollably, and his eyes rolled until he could only see the white orbs. One moment before he was yelling angrily at Lord Schneizel, and the next he was begging him to release the green hair woman and now this. The kid Emperor's unpredictability was what made him so dangerous.
"Wh-what do we do…Sir?" Rowland managed to croak out. His eyes switched to the ashen faced Lieutenant in charge of the security detail.
"Eh…eh…" Second Lieutenant Lawley's eyes darted wildly from the convulsing figure to each of the soldiers under his charge. He did not receive any instruction regarding this mission. He didn't know who it was until they were told to don the issued special goggles and their prisoner was rolling out in gags from one of the military transport.
"Take traitor Lelouch to the Engineering deck. Someone will take charge of him there. Do not remove your goggles under any circumstances." Colonel Maldini left him with those words before he departed swiftly. They met a Royal Military Police captain and his men there, but instead of taking charge of the prisoner, the captain directed him and his men into an empty ammo dump to setup the prisoner and the Comm. gear with Lord Schneizel.
The captain shoved him a portable communicator before closing off the heavy blaster door. "My men and I will be posting outside. Only call for me it's absolutely necessary." And just like Colonel Maldini, the captain walked off without a backward glance. And strangely, those MPs did not have a name badge…
Lawley mentally pinched himself. His men were depending on him to successfully carry out their mission, he…
His thought process came to an abrupt halt as something on the Emperor caught his attention. The traitor's contorted fingers swelled and shrank like one of those characters out of a comical cartoon, but it was not just his fingers. Every inch of exposed flesh, and especially his face, seemed to be pulsating. Lieutenant Lawley's attention was so fixated at the scene before him that he didn't realize his body was moving of its own accord until he was standing next to the gagged prisoner. No human can do what I am seeing…
His thoughts trailed when his eyes fell onto Lelouch's fingers watching them warp and altered before his eyes, like they were alive. Lawley's brought his hand up, but before he could touch one of the morphing digits it lashed out at him like a raging viper.
Rowland's rifle clattered to the metallic floor as he watched in disgust at what is used to be human fingers slimmed and lengthened that twirled like dancing serpents.
Just like the Hydra, he thought.
His jaw went slack when the Lieutenant walked closer to the…the freak. He gaped when he saw the Lieutenant raised his hand with the intention to touch one of the fingers. Rowland wanted to shout a warning, something to stop him but his larynx refused to cooperate. He flinched and yelped in fear as the Lieutenant's head suddenly exploded with a sickening 'crack,' as one of the curls suddenly struck him, dousing Rowland with blood and gore.
********
Schneizel's eyes narrowed at the monitor of a face that a minute ago was still known as his younger brother. His once prominent hard and angular feature dissipated, dissolved, blotted and transformed before his very eyes. He could hardly believe that human face was capable of twisting into such a frightful feature. The brows creased up so sharply they were almost vertical, forming alongside three angry grooves on his forehead that shot up like lighting bolts.
The subsequence pull of the muscles slanted his eyes upward at the far edge, and the corners of his once strong mouth quirked up slightly, making his expression that much more sinister.
The last thing Schneizel saw, causing him to reel back involuntarily, was the dawning of a pair of gleaming, claret eyes that has no irises or pupils, nothing except a faint pallid glow within that glared right at him just before the image of the monitor died off in a flash of gunfire and static.
********
Rowland was thrown back against the wall when two bullets hit him. One breached his chest plate but stopped short of reaching the flesh. The second bullet caught him on his side, slicing through the tissue and organs like hot knife on butter. The subsequence kinetic energy that it carried obliterated everything in its path. His mind didn't have time to register the impact until well after he collapsed onto the floor.
The force of the impact knocked him breathless and numbed his senses. The volley of gunfire split the air around him, raining broken bullet and wall fragments around him. The overhead lamps went out in a showery fountain of sparks and flames with muzzle flashes illuminating silhouettes like holiday flares. The emergency light came on a moment later but just as quickly went out.
Oh crap, I was shot by my own chaps…
Now lying on his side with his blood pooling around him, his tired brain was screaming at him to call for help even as his logic told him that he was already dead.
The rifle and sub-machine gun fire sounded muffled and the pain to his torso was fading away. His eyes roamed sluggishly, flinching slight with each burst of afterglow that blinded his vision. The shooting shifted away, to the left, and then back the other way. They were firing erratically like idiots in some C-rated flicks, he laughed inwardly. Then he noticed a pair of red embers dancing in the darkness.
The coals were making wide, smooth and lazy arches, leaving faint trails of pink light. Like a harbinger of death, it silenced every firing weapon that it sailed pass it. The afterglows were the most beautiful image he had ever seen.
Only one weapon remained firing and the soldier swung it around to aim at whatever it was, illuminating it in the flash of its muzzle.
Oh My God…
"…I believe in thou," he whispered the prayer that he had once forgotten. He felt his eyes closing, the frightful image forever seared into his mind. "Thou dost strengthen my faith…all my hopes are in thee." His breathing slowed as exhaustion overtook his body, but he fought to stay awake for a moment longer.
"Thou dost strengthen my faith. All my hopes are in Thee." His breath was labored, each one was infinitely harder than before, but he felt a strange and welcoming warmth seep through his body. A radio crackled to life not too far away.
"What the bloody hell is going on in there, Lieutenant!?" An agitated voice barked on the other side. Without the shootings, the transmission sounded rather piercing.
"Lieutenant! Report! Now!" The man on the other end was livid.
Rowland couldn't care anymore. "Grant that I may prepare for death, that I may fear Thy judgment."
"We are coming in, Lieutenant! You will regret this!"
You will regret opening the gate to hell.
"Escape hell and in the end obtain Heaven—" his last breath hitched "—through Jesus Christ…my…Lord…A…men."
From behind him, he heard the rumble of the heavy hydraulic mechanism opening the blast door. The chamber itself was eerily quiet.
Moments before the blackness engulfed him, he risked one final look.
At the crack of the heavy blast door, a lone figure stood at the center. The light from the outside world cast a shadow a tenth less sinister on its host, looming, waiting to be unleashed.
And behold the Demon King.
********
C.C. was panting. Her breathe came in short gasps and a patch of condensation formed and disappear just a few inches overhead as she breathed.
The familiar claustrophobic sensation was tugging at the edge of her heart, knowing quite well what would happen to her and her unborn child. The thought banished any remnants of phobia, but it was soon replaced by a sense of anguish and hopelessness.
She was angry at herself for the action she had taken, and yet not once had it turned to the outcome that she desired. Every decision that she had made that involved her emotions – joy, anger, sympathy or aversion – the outcome always ended opposite of her wish.
There were so many examples, such as Mao, whom she loved dearly, long ago, and now Lelouch would be added to that very long list. The mere thought of his name brought a pang to her heart.
She had never told Lelouch, but the day that they first met was not at the abandoned subway station, but when he was freshly out of his mother's womb. She cuddled his fragile form in her embrace that night because Marianne had developed a complication and had requested her to tend to him.
That night, with infant Lelouch held at eye level, she cooed gently, "Would you grant me my wish, Lelouch?" And to her infinite surprise, his tiny little eyes drew open, the light purple hues stared at her and he smiled. It was then she knew that Lelouch would be the person who would set her free.
The discovery was short lived. As soon as C.C. learned of Charles and Marianne's plan for Mankind, she left the palace and became the number one fugitive of the Empire, until she was captured by Britannia Army Intelligence Agency.
She could barely contain her excitement when he released her from the containment sphere. But centuries of practice allowed her to greet him just the way that she wanted to - cold and indifferent.
She bestowed upon him the Power of the King that day and had been watching over him, supporting him, nurturing him ever since.
Very few people realized that a boy – a teenager young adult of ten and seven years of age – had been stripped of his prince hood for doing the right thing. For the care of his crippled sister after their exile. For living in humility and shame knowing that he had no power to help the weak and the oppressed. He bore the weight and the future of the entire planet on his slender frame. Through all the chaos that was in human history, through all the devestation and discord wrought by human ambitions, through all the pain and suffering endured by the helpless. Faulted by most, misunderstood even by his beloved sister, Lelouch carried on still. With an eager selflessness and an unfaltering will, he trusted that his sacrifice would bring peace upon the World.
Marianne once asked her in the World of C, whether or not she would be able to watch him carry out his plan. She told Marianne that she did not want to fail again. She wanted to end her experience accumulation once and for all, but that had been a lie.
After the event of "Tokyo Massacre," she could have passed the Code to Lelouch anytime that she wanted to, like the Sister before her. But she didn't. Watching Lelouch falling to pieces had brought out an emotion that C.C. had long forgotten.
She didn't protest when Lelouch press his lips to her chest. She didn't offer any resistance when he tore at her garments forcibly. Instead, she spurred him on, encouraged him, kissing him back with the same intensity. Not out of desperation, but something else she was not willing to name.
Their new found intimacy added an unspoken understanding which began to develop and blossom. To everyone else there seemed to be less interaction between them. Some even thought that they were ignoring each other, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Words were no longer the only means of communication between them. A glance, a touch of their flesh, sometimes even the cock of one's head was enough to convey the point.
She was now throwing it all away. By collaborating with Schneizel behind Lelouch's back, there was no conceivable way that Lelouch would ever forgive her for saving his life by sacrificing herself and their child.
It is better this way, she thought to herself. For both Lelouch and her, but if that was the case, why did her heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces?
C.C. gasped suddenly, an excruciating pain rippled through her heart, hitching her breath. Her entire body went rigid and then bolted upright, oblivious to the pains to her face from the overhead impact and the tearing from the restraints to her limbs. A single word was torn from her throat, a shriek so piercing that it even surprised the technicians through the heavy gauge cover.
LELOUCH!
********
"Are Captain Kelso and his men in place?" Schneizel asked in a deliberate manner, but was dismayed when he felt his voice tremble.
Kanon Maldini who had witnessed the entire exchange was struggling visibly. "Ya – yes, My Lord, they were – in pl–"
"Have him execute as planned," Schneizel whirled around and looked directly into Maldini's eyes, "and apologize to Mr. Ried for me. It looks like we won't be able to go with the theatrical route like we had discussed."
Maldini saw that his Lord's faint smile was back but his features appeared to be paler than usual. As if it were an afterthought, Schneizel turned to him yet again while walking toward his personal chamber. "Get it done, Kanon. For me, for the Empire."
"Yes, My Lord." Maldini snapped to attention, saluted, and looked on as his beloved leader's back disappeared behind the sliding door.
His finger hesitated over the communication dial for a brief second before punching in the channel.
"CIC, Colonel McCree," a grouchy voice came over the Comm.
"Colonel McCree, Maldini here." He could hear the guy on the other side almost snap to attention. "His Highness would like to request an additional company of men to reinforce the MP unit guarding the traitor Lelouch, down at the Engineering level."
"Oh, eh, His Highness is too kind, I'll dispatch…" there was a pause on the other end, "B Company of the forty-seventh battalion for this honor. Would there be anything else that we can serve for His Highness?"
Maldini pondered for a moment. "As matter of fact, Colonel, if it is not too much trouble, is it possible to send some heavy units in case the Rebels were foolish enough to mount a rescue attempt?" He droned over the mic, knowing full well the man on the other side knew exactly where his hierarchy was in the entire chain of command.
"Of course, Colonel, I have four Gloucesters tasked for anti-intrusion duty three decks above. I will divert two down with B Company." At least the man was competent enough.
After cutting the circuit, he dialed for Captain Kelso next.
"Yes, Colonel?" He answered on the first tone.
"Your status?" Maldini demanded, sounding almost harsh. The image from earlier still bothered him.
"We heard what sounded like gunfire just a few minutes ago. The lieutenant in charge of the prisoner did not respond to my call. We have to assume that they are either incapacitated or came under the influence of the prisoner," Kelso replied succinctly.
"Carry out your order. Report back to me when you are standing over his body and have put a few rounds through his head," Maldini paused. "I have sent a unit of Army Regular your way. Time is of the essence."
"Affirmative, sir. I shall report back to you inside ten minutes, Kelso signing off."
Maldini called up the countdown clock on his watch. In another ten minutes he would have eradicated an enemy that Lord Schneizel considered to be the most difficult and problematic to deal with. He had no doubt that Kelso would carry out the order as instructed. He was one of the most decorated soldiers directly under Lord Schneizel's command and all his men were handpicked by him from a pool of special operation soldiers. After all, no matter how many people Lelouch managed to convert with his Geass power, they were no match for more than a hundred heavily armed men. Maldini smiled thinly. The path to ascension had finally been secured.
********
Warrant Officer/Sergeant Major Nicolas "Bishop" Bristow chewed at the end of his pipe thoughtfully before placing his black rook in from of a white knight.
"Checkmate," he said, settling back into his seat and eyed his opponent smugly.
The man sitting opposite him scanned the entire board for close to a minute, before tipping over his own king as the mass hall erupted in a series of shouts and cheers.
"Bloody hell, Serge, now how many was that?" His unfortunate prey pulled out his wallet in frustration.
"Hmm…" Bristow contemplated briefly, tracing his well manicured beard with his pipe.
"One hundred eighty-eight and counting." He winked at the man.
"Yeah, after this one I don't think anyone in the regiment would ever play with you," His victim replied, throwing down the money and stomping off with his buddies in tow.
"Nice round, Serge." Lance Corporal Stapleton sat down right next to him with a broad smile.
"Right…SAS at its best, goofing around now the days," Nicolas grumbled. The overhead PA system announced yet another transport arriving. His mood suddenly turned gloomy.
As the twenty-three year veteran of the Special Air Service, Nicolas had never felt so depressed before. Barely a year ago, Nicolas and his troop were still at the front line, spearheading each and every major operations for the Empire. Now with the introduction of the newer class of battle frame, the foot soldiers, no matter how specially trained, were being replaced. And this "civil war" fiasco was pitting them against the Troops from their own regiment, just because they were stationed at different bases. He could care less about what the grudge between the new Emperor and his brother was. He simply had no desire in fighting his brothers in arms, regardless of circumstance.
"Come on, Sergeant, look on the bright side. The Army is fighting their ass off with the Rebels and all we have to do is to sit pretty in a parade to collect our pay. Who can ask for more?" Stapleton said, looking around the dispersing crowd, trying to cheer up his friend and mentor.
Nicolas sighed without further words, handed him the win in which the man gladly accepted when the klaxon went off.
"Action station! Action station! All hand prepares to repel borders. Last known enemy position at deck E sections two. Away alert teams. Action station! Action station…"
Both men eyed each other, their bodies frozen in place as if someone cast a spell on them. Then they bolted away at the same time, knocking off everything in their path, heading for their armory locker.
"So this day is not going to be pretty after all," Stapleton whined but with a smile on his face, following close behind his sergeant.
"I sure hope not," Nicolas replied with a joyful tone. He dashed around a good looking army staffer, who yelped in surprise and clutched her info pad closely to her chest. He heard Stapleton's apology but his mind was already corridors away, contemplating his enemies ahead.
********
Maldini stood up abruptly and his eyes darted to his watch. The chair he was sitting in only a moment ago was now lying on the floor. The sound of the siren and the announcement at General Quarters were eerily ominous. It had only been eight minutes and twenty three seconds since he last spoke to Captain Kelso. The reported location of the borders was also in Engineering deck…
Oh, no…
The sliding door to his left hissed open and Schneizel walked in with a stony expression.
"What is happening?" The tone of his voice was even harder.
Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. Schneizel was a charismatic leader, but he would not tolerate failure anymore than allow incompetency to thwart his plan. Maldini was now certain to be on a very short list of incompetent people under his command.
Before his panic stricken throat could make a note, the comm. panel came to life with a click. General Manser, commanding officer of the Damocles, appeared on the screen and behind him, his staff was crisscrossing hurriedly.
"General, what news do you bring me?" Schneizel greeted him, with composed expression back on his face. Maldini breathed a sigh of relief, at least for now.
"My Lord, we have report of unknown numbers of hostiles infiltrating the Engineering Deck," he paused, appeared to have received something from his aid. "Elements of forty-seventh battalion reported engaging the enemy, but went off the net." The general looked up, uncertainty evident on his face.
"What is it, general?" Schneizel asked grimly. Manser was a seasoned veteran of many conflicts. Very few things in this world could warrant that kind of expression.
"Sire, we show greens across the board. The fortress energy shield shows no sign of impact or degradation, and yet we are engaging hostiles from within." Manser looked embarrass, "what if something happen during the interrogation…" He trailed off.
Schneizel snapped his head at Maldini, "How did the anti-Geass goggles get distributed?"
"All combat formations were issued the goggles prior to the engagement this morning. However, none combative personnel did not…" Maldini's eyes widened in realization, "Could it be…?"
Schneizel turned back to the general and asked, "What do you recommend, General?"
"My Lord, if my assumption is correct, everyone on Engineering Deck and below should be considered hostile until proven otherwise. With your permission, I would like to recall and repurpose the fifty-third infantry battalion, plus an additional Star of Gloucesters for the duration of this operation. We must secure Engineering at once before who ever down there has the chance to jeopardize the fortress. I have already committed the remaining companies of the forty-seventh as well as a Lance of Southerland for the task. Colonel McCree is leading the operation and he should commence in just a few moments."
Schneizel nodded, "Permission granted, General. Take whatever measures are necessary to ensure the safety of our people and the fortress. You have my gratitude for your quick actions," Schneizel said with a nod.
"It was my privilege, sire. I shall bring favorable report soon." The General bowed and the comm. panel went off.
Both man stood in silence and Maldini took a deep breath and began, "My Lord, please accept…"
Schneizel waved him off, "Kanon, this is Lelouch that we are talking about here. I will be disappointed if we can finish him off that easily." He smirked at Maldini.
Maldini was finally to breathe easier. He heard Schneizel say, "I had high hopes for Captain Kelso. Any word from him?"
Maldini shook his head. According to the stop watch, the Captain was overdue roughly eight minutes and Kelso was never late for his reports.
Schneizel sighed in annoyance. "Let us find the good old professor and see what the Gray Witch has to offer us." The mention of the Gray Witch lifted his spirit instantly. Maldini trudged closely behind his liege, all the while mulling over the fate of the men down below.
********
Nicolas was running the final flight of stairs to their ready room when he was knocked off his feet and nearly smashed his face into the side rail.
The deep rumbles and the shuddering of the hulk was a telltale sign of something terrible happening. Next to him, Stapleton struggled up his feet, "What do you think just happen, Serge?" A hint of fear laced his voice.
"Probably took out an genera—" Another set of brutal quakes threw them down the steps again, "…or two. Come on! Let's get it over with before we all go down in this chunk of metal."
By the time they half crawled and stumbled into the ready room, the Democles was listing severely to one side.
"Nice of you to join the fun, sir," Private Page greeted them enthusiastically.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Page," Nicholas grumbled, donning his combat harness and the equipments with practiced ease, "What's the run down, Pooh?" He asked without turning his head as he fastened his thigh rigs.
Corporal Michael "Pooh" Nance, the Comm. Operator of the Troop listened intensely into his ear piece with a severe frown marring his features. A stocky man with a gentle heart, he earned his nickname from his calming temperament and his personal affection for honey.
"It's a mess, sir. I have been monitoring both the shipboard and tactical net, but there is barely any communication discipline. From what I can gather, there was an explosion that took out a generator and the fire suppression system is inoperative." He paused while he kept tap on the Net, "The portside float valve had also ceased to ignite, hence the list." He made a circular motion overhead. "General Manser has ordered a lock down below the hanger deck."
He stopped talking all at once, his hand came up to pressed the ear piece tighter and his frown deepened.
"Sir, you better listen to this." Nance placed a few key strokes on his data pad to bond Nicolas's earpiece into the Tactical Net.
"…ore reinforcements! The battle frames went down like they were plastic toys. I need everything that you can send me down here, right now!" A frantic, hoarse voice shouted over continuous chatters of automatic fire, screams, and detonations.
"…down, Colonel! Assess the situation calmly and objectively! How many hostiles are you engaging right now!?" A commanding voice barked over the Net.
Silence.
"Colonel, how many hostiles are you engaging, over?"
Silence.
"Colonel McCree, how many Tangos are you currently engaging, over?"
Silence…
"What is your status, Colonel? Report!" The voice was getting annoyed and anxious.
Nicolas was bracing for the next set of angry request when a different voice came online.
"elp me…someone…someone please help…" It was frail and labored. Nicolas had to strain his ear just to catch the man's words. "…me," a painful groan and a dull 'thump', "Oh God, oh my God, please, I don't wanna die." Nicolas just now realized that there were no more gunshots in the background, no shouting, no explosions. It was disturbingly silent, even with the man's dying plead.
The tone of voice was getting weaker, he began to slur badly, losing consciousness, "…hel…me…ma…her." That was when he heard it, faint footsteps in the backdrop, walking closer.
Barefoot.
That was his first impression, he had no reason to believe otherwise but that was what it sounded like.
"Gaw…hel..p..us…" The man's final breathe was accompanied by the receding footsteps before the noise cut out.
"Soldier, put Colonel Mc…" Nicolas disconnected his end, eyes closing. It was not easy even after so many years on the field.
"Serge," a hand rest lightly on his shoulder, which he knew it belonged to Nance. "There appears to be wide spread panic amongst the engaging Army units. Some were retreating without orders but most just dropped off the Net entirely. General Manser had just ordered all combat units to converge on the hanger deck," he whispered.
Nicolas rubbed his face warily, and then nodded in acknowledgement and dialed for Team Two.
"Casper calling Fatso, come in."
"Heh, Bishop, finally decide to move your arse, eh? Congrats on your victory," Sergeant Ingham responded.
Ignoring the punt, "Did you monitor the Tactical?"
"Yep, there are so much jittering around me that I wouldn't trust them to lick my boots. Lest they hit the wrong spot and I'll have to whack'em myself." His sarcasm never failed to lift his mood.
"I am one fl…" His voice was eclipsed by a sudden, thunderous roar. It was so loud that Nicolas could feel the vibration beneath his boots.
"..ly Mother of God, the chaps down below must have opened up all at once, I'll…" Ingham had to shout just to be heard.
"NO! Ingham, fall back and disengage at once! I'll meet you at…" he looked up almost in a panic, and thankfully Nance already provided him with a rally point on his datapad, "…at the map marker, acknowledge!" He was now yelling into his throat-mic. Something just didn't add up, he was sure of it.
"Calm down, mate, no need to bite my ears off when I am already deaf, relocating." Nicolas breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that Ingham decided to comply with his order rather than the other way around. But then again it was common knowledge in the Squadron that Nicholas was against this conflict. He would not place his men in jeopardy for a cause that he did not believe in.
Against his better judgment, he lit his pipe and took a good drag from it. The tobacco help tamed his jittery nerves. Pulling his rifle from the locker, he motioned for his men to follow. "Let's go collect Fatso and see if we can stay in one piece until it's all over."
To Be Continue…
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