Author's Note: At this point any more apologies for my tardiness would seem so mundane so I am going to save it for next time…:P. This chapter was such a pain to write, and of course I placed the blame entirely on my quitting of Starbuck. Many thanks to rawrchelle and Rogue12158 for their edits, I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass in any way or form.
Recommend: For best viewing pleasure, set you width to ½.
Chapter 6
Kallen grunted with effort, teeth clenching, her hands yanked hard on the control interface while her feet drummed frantically as her battle frame ripped through the Chinese formation in a series of high-G maneuvers.
The lack of green IFF helped offset the odds. The sneak attack took its toll on the Black Knight. Of the three hundred sixty-seven battle frames that survived the skirmish with the Imperials, two hundred seventeen were lost during the opening attack. The Chinese Federation must have decided to reprogram the Identify Friend or Foe transponder right before their betrayal. It was intended to help them annihilate the Black Knight, but it also became their greatest undoing.
Detonations dotted amongst their ranks as the remnant of the Black Knight fought on in their moment of failing triumph. Explosions and tracers illuminated the starless sky.
Kallen barreled the Guren into dodging a pair of blazing tracers that zipped past her battle frame. She didn't even have time to track the attackers before she drove Guren's claw into a charging Gang Lou that happen to be in her way when she came out of her rotation.
She swallowed hard, forced the rising bile back down when the reinforced claw came away with metal scraps and torn flesh. Bright explosions rattled her instruments, and without checking her view ports, she knew more of her comrades had fallen to the Chinese treachery.
Her anger flared. Directly in front of her, an assembly of Gang Lou was toying with a damaged Burai, shooting it limb by limb. Without thinking, Kallen thumbed in the maximum pulsar radiance ignoring the warbling buzzers of low energy warning and depressed the trigger.
The deadly red beams lashed out and homed in on those she called comrades just barely an hour ago. She watched in grim satisfaction as explosions temporarily blinded her screen.
Staring at the blinking Christmas strobes on her master caution panel, and the closing of two dozen hostiles, she couldn't help but laugh with bitterness, this time, the taste in her mouth was viler than the content in her stomach.
Lelouch was right.
But then again, Lelouch was always right.
The notion of liberty and freedom would never outweigh one's nationalism. People needed to belong, even if the group they were belonging to was more oppressive, he had once told her. It required very strong will from any individual to break away from that sense of belonging. That was why the number of individuals who had led successful revolutions could be accounted in only one hand.
Are you saying that you have a strong will, Lelouch, one that rivals those of Greats in history? She remembered herself asking with snide.
She expected him to gloat, to declare with triumph how he came about to be the man that he was. But to her utter surprise, his features fell, before he left her in her shocking state, he replied softly, "There was always a story behind that strong will, where people were forced to confront great odds."
That left her more disturbed than any of his deceptions. She expected to be lied to, used, abused, misled, deceived, anything and everything that made Zero's enemy feared him, regarded him with contempt.
She cringed every time he showed any sign of kindness or affection toward her. She would gladly lay down her life for Zero at the slightest twitch of his fingers. Her devotion to Zero was total and complete. He was a legend that turned certain defeat into unimaginable victory. He was a man who realized her dear brother's lifelong dream. She was and always will remain to be Zero's Q-One.
But she became utterly useless when it comes to Lelouch Vi Britannia or Lelouch Lamperouge as what she now used to perceive him. When the line between the champion and the man blurred, that day on Kamine Island, her conscious mind ceased to function. She should've shot Suzaku right there and then, assisting Zero in completing his goal, rescuing Nunnally. But instead, she fled.
She couldn't believe that the man she was willing to die for was the very same man that she secretly harbored feelings for and fantasized spending the rest of her life with. It overwhelmed her.
Kallen Kouzuki, Sword of Zero, queen of many battlefields, who killed her enemies by the dozens, was terrified when it came to her true feelings. It took her a better part of a year to reconcile her thoughts and mind-set. Perhaps her traumatized childhood played a big part in it, but nevertheless, looking back, she had abandoned her liege twice in the past. She had forsaken the man she loved to his own fate. Not because she didn't trust him, but because she had no faith in herself.
And if she wanted to be more honest to herself, the reason why she didn't follow Lelouch to Britannia was not because Suzaku was in her place. She was more than willing to serve Lelouch in any capacity she could, even on a personal level. The only reason she didn't follow Lelouch to the heel was because she couldn't seem to get between the bonds that Lelouch and C.C. shared.
Ever since the day that green haired woman was introduced to her as his close confidante in that cavern, Kallen had being doubting her importance to Zero.
C.C. did not look any older than any of the other females in the Black Knights. But the way that she carried herself, in her unique cold indifference, and that knowing, sometime haunting golden orbs, made her seemed much older than her age.
She would always be the one that Zero seeked right after a big operation. Her view would always be enough to push a decision if the issue was divided. Lastly, she was the only female that would stay in Zero's personal quarter, with or without him.
Maybe it was woman's intuition, but after Lelouch revitalized the Black Knights one year after the disastrous Black Rebellion. The bond between the two had transcended to a more intimate level.
Does it bother you? C.C. asked her once, when both of them were alone in the mess hall.
Caught off guard, her feature burned scarlet, she averted away from her but asked. What does?
She could feel the other woman leered at her uneasiness. C.C.'s heels clicked away from her.
You have nothing to worry about, if everything works out in the end, you get to keep the little boy.
What-
But then C.C. had already left her to her own tormenting thoughts. And before she could confirm that statement from her, the Black Knight turned against their legendary commander.
Was it jealousy? Or was it resentment? Perhaps it was greed?
Were those the reasons why she abandoned Lelouch the second time around? The answer eluded her since that fateful day, and the answer now blinked into existence, before the moment of her demise.
Cowardice.
She was afraid to face her true feeling. She was scared of the ramification of confronting that bond between C.C. and Lelouch. She was fearful of the answer.
That was why she fought against Lelouch. So she would never have to confront with what frightened her so.
Why does the moment of clarity only reveal itself right before the instant of death?
********
His heart was pounding so fast that the throat seized up.
Gino Weinberg watched in dreadfulness as the Federation units closed in on the plunging Red Angle of Death, ready to avenge their fellow countrymen.
His hands were already doing what his vocal cords could not. His cockpit shuddered and quaked as the Tristan Divider altered its battle form into the formidable Sky Dominator.
He kept an eye on the yellow-lined energy gauge while he lined up his transformed battle frame for the strafing run. At the same time he couldn't help but curse at his lack of attentiveness. Standard Imperial doctrine called for immediate refueling of any combat equipment after a major engagement. The first thing he should have done upon landing on the carrier was to replenish his fuel rod. Even after knowing that the Damocles was in trouble he ought to get his battle frame rearm and refuel before he took off, but he was distracted. And the object of his distraction was none other than that fierce, red haired pilot now moments away from her impending doom.
Gino held his breathe and caressed the trigger as the crosshair passed over each target in rapid successions. The deadly ray of tracers reached out, each fishtail was accompanied by no less than nineteen tungsten core penetrator round. More than a dozen perished in a series of smoldering cloud and fiery glows. He was going to bank for a second pass but gasped in horror as the crimson colored battle frame plummeted along the falling rubble.
Ignoring the critical energy warning, Gino pushed his stick all the way up, taking the Dominator into a steep dive and went after the now armless, crimson battle frame.
********
His forehead pressed on the freezing double pressurize oval shape window, staring intently at the white sea of cloud under the moonlight.
There.
"What a magnificent sight…" the mission commander murmured to no one in particular, his eyes fixated on the vertical fins of the lumbering leviathans now rising slowly through the sea of parting clouds.
A pilot himself, he would much rather be in the cockpit of one of those colossal bombers, marveled at the grandeur that his fellow wingmen were experienced, ascending through the cloud en mass. But the mission profile called for extremely tight formation flying, but he is not alone. Eleven other command consoles were occupied by a pilot instead of radar operators in the AWAC aircraft, each person guiding up to three bombers and one tiny mistake would be catastrophic.
"Three-O-niner, maintain current course and speed…"
"Sixty-forty-one, throttle up to five hundred knots, maintain angle ten…"
"Fifteen-thirty-one, come to course two-seven-four, angle twenty…"
All mission capable bombers the Forty-Fifth could sortie formed into a solid wall of thirty-three Devastators. Each heavy bomber had a wingspan of almost seventy meters. At a dangerous interval of fifty meters apart, two hundred fifty meter vertical spacing, the entire formation stretched more than a mile across and half a mile deep. And that was not counting the fighter squadrons loitering high above.
He made sure the external cameras were set to record and checked the mission clock and unit positions…it was almost time…
"Eagle Eye check," the mission commander said into his mouthpiece.
"Sword check," acknowledged the commander of the lead squadron.
"Blackie check," replied the leader of the second squadron.
"Juno check," responded by the last squadron.
"Execute."
On command, pilot or co-pilot of each aircraft opened their bomb bay doors and started releasing their ordnances.
Instead of laden with conventional guided surface-attack munitions, each rotary magazines of every bomber were crammed with maximum numbers of long range, air interceptor missiles. And because of the additional fins and wings of those missiles, each bomber was only carrying a tenth of its designed payload weight. The pilots waited until their internal magazines were emptied before they ripple-fired the remaining missiles on their external pylon racks.
A total of nine hundred and twenty-four missiles were launched by the Forty-Fifth, six fell harmlessly through the cloud and into the sea, seven veered off course due to faulty navigation units and three came apart when the rocket motor ignited. But nine hundred and eight other cybernetic brethrens continued onto their path, the blue and red flames they gave out glimmered like stars in the sky.
Twenty seconds after the last missile spat away from the bombers, the circling fighters went on full afterburner and trailed behind the steel cloud of death, their blue shock diamonds clearly visible as they passed overhead, into the fury that awaited them.
Only then did the lumbering giants bank languidly to starboard, one after another, and followed behind the wake of their Wing Commander on their long journey home.
********
"My Lord?" The admiral of the task force waited expectantly.
Jeremiah Gottwald stared at the master plot, making sure one last time that all assets at his disposal were committed to the recovery operation.
There were voices that oppose such attempt, citing the inevitable death by the hand of the Second Prince of Britannia. The most vocal one, a lieutenant commander from the destroyer Cypress, got his throat sliced open in front of the assembled officers, and the echo of support died along with the sound this body hitting the deck.
He would press forward with the operation, regardless of cost, with an achievable tempo. He nearly lost his temper at Suzaku's impatience but he needed the brash knight and his powerful battle frame to enhance the probability of their success. At nearly four to one, the odds were still very much against them…
"My Lord?" The admiral's hesitant tone brought him out of his reveries.
Jeremiah moved his head ever so slight and replied in a cool, detached manner, "Proceed."
The admiral nodded in acknowledgement, he turned toward the captain of the ship with his commanding voice, "Energize!"
Within seconds, the powerful phased array radar mounted in front of the slick superstructure went from standby to active, pummeling anything within the two hundred miles arc with six million watts of electromagnetic waves. The onboard computers exchanged, compared, calculated and plotted targets with three other ships within the taskforce. All unidentified symbols around the Damocles were replaced by a swarm of red beacons. The first surface-to air missile roared out of the vertical launcher in a heap of burning flame and rolling thunders.
Jeremiah winced as the thunder and rumble of the second missile jolted the CIC shortly after. Even behind decks of armor plating, the noises were deafening. He spared a glance out through the thick blast proof windows, HMS Illustrious and her consorts were already enveloped in a thick, men made fog bank illuminated by the yellow flames of every missile arching into the sky.
It took forty-one seconds for the long-range missiles launched by the bomb wing to overfly the taskforce, and by now every SAM capable ships were adding their own missiles to the "basket," allowing their destructive ordnances to be guided by the computers aboard the cruisers.
********
Everyone on the command deck of the Avalon had their attention centered on the overhead brawls between their own and what was left of the Black Knight.
Hong Gu had the deepest respect and admiration for the famed outfit. Even when faced with the prospect of annihilation, those brave men and women fought on still. When their guns ran out of ammunitions, they closed in with melee weapons, taking out as many Federations units as they could before they were shot down or destroyed. Those skilled enough would launch their Slash Harkens, strapped themselves with their enemies and perished with the detonation their grenades.
He sighed with frustration.
Although he was the one who proposed for the capture of the sky fortress, but to desecrate these courageous warriors in such manner was beyond reproach. But the future prosperity of the Middle Kingdom, the continual sovereignty of the Ancestral Land relied solely on this formidable Imperial invention. Personal honor is of no consequence-
"Incoming bogies! Bearing zero-niner-seven, range forty kilometer. Numerous contacts, count-oh my god…at least five hundred plus contacts, course-"
"Damn it," Hong Gu cursed under his breath, the anticipated Imperial counter attack came at the most inopportune moment. If they could have twenty-no, ten more minutes, they would have been able to confront it properly, as such; he had to commit the force that he reserved for the fortress assault on the incoming attack. "Signal the Red and Green Banner brigade forward to meet them."
He groaned in irritation, those damn Imperials; before they surrendered their flag ship, virtually all electronic equipments were all but a pile of smoking wreck. They had to improvise with their battle frames to have at least minimal sensor capability.
If he could have enough warning-
"General! They are too fast to be battle frames, they are missiles!"
The implication didn't sink in until two second later, and Hong Gu's eyes went wild.
********
From five thousand feet down below, Suzaku and his forces hovered in the exclusion zone with minimal power emission; waiting for the opening barrage. His onboard high resolution TV camera tracked the approaching missiles from fifteen miles out and watched it streaked all the way into the enemy formation; the rapid-fire immolation resembled a massive swarm of fireflies.
"For the Empire!" he declared over the tactical frequencies, which were echoed by every pilot in his battle group. At the push of his control quadroon, the Lancelot Albion raised its fist high into the air and as one, the assembled Imperials leapt into the fray.
********
Hong Gu flinched at the stacks of cascading orange "LOST" icons on and around the sky fortress. A quarter of his entire force was destroyed outright when the missiles crashed into his units. Too many were caught looking in the wrong direction, attempting to finish off the Black Knights. Those units equipped with advanced warning receivers took evasive action only to ram into the path of their unsuspected comrades in the densely packed formation. Great many others suffered various degrees of damage from the shaped fragmentation warhead, rendered them combat ineffective. Throughout his entire military career, even case studies in the war academy, no forces on earth had ever been engaged in this fashion.
He watched on helplessly as his remaining forces staggered under the massive bombardment, as more green beacons turned into doomed rectangles.
Just when all seemed lost, the surviving units regrouped and maneuvered behind the sky fortress, using the impregnable barrier to shield them from the Imperial bombardments.
But the sigh of relief proved to be short lived.
"General, the shield!"
Hong Gu's head snapped up just in time to watch the hexagonal blue barrier flared for the last time as the missiles began to detonate on the hulls of Damocles. And it was at that moment, all hell broke loose for the Federation. Bolts of green tracers rained down on them like hail storm from the automated anti-aircraft batteries.
"Order all units to storm the fortress," he shouted. It was already too late to contemplate what should or should not have been done.
"Ignore all losses, breach the Damocles!"
********
"It's too dangerous," Gino cried out in alarm. His Tristan Divider was barely able to support the heavily damaged Guren, hovering just outside the kill zone.
"That is something that I should have done long ago," Kallen's quiet voice crackled over the intercom. "Gino," her voice grew even quieter, "I…understand and appreciate your…feelings, but there are only two things left in my heart, one is Japan and the other is Lelouch," she hesitated, "You don't have to come with me."
"Fat chance of that," Gino muttered under his breath. "I am almost out of fuel anyway, and the closest refueling point is that."
"…Thank you…"
Without another word, both battle frames wafted unsteadily toward the smoke spewing sky fortress and the entourage of dueling worriers.
********
Seven serpents retched as one, with the one been needled flailing wildly. In one swift move, the one furthest to the right snatched the professor up by his feet, causing the man to yelp in surprise and continued to scram in agony, dangling in the air.
"AAARGH!!!"
The panicking wail pierced through the otherwise tomblike hanger.
Every gun were trained at the dangling figure that was, just moment ago, the salvation of all – Professor Kassel, who injected the precious vial of nano bots into the Demon, now hanging upside down screaming like a lost soul.
"Ugggh!"
"Help- help me, someone help me!"
"Grrr- It hurts, oh God, get it off, get it off me- argh!"
The cry for help lend on deaf ears, for no one dared make a move on the scene before them.
Five others coiled inward and began mauling the one that was injected by the professor, in which after the initial flounder, started to crystallize into a blue, almost emerald looking pillar.
The gruesome feasting ended when the unmoving chunk of crystal was hurled into the air by its brethrens and burst into a fountain of stardust on the hanger deck. Two dozen scrawny meanders plowed from the ragged torso, but quickly stemmed in mass, until all curled and joined as one, distorted into yet another menacing form.
Even the professor was awestruck by the unearthly display, his pain momentarily forgotten. His frightening wail cowed into pitiful whimpers, and his struggling form limped into submission, watching, waiting for his deliverance.
Diethard couldn't catch the professor's expression even from his angle; he inched forward still, and was the closest human being from the Demon other than the condemned scientist. He knew the man's end was near and he would do anything to record it for history. Diethard noticed offhandedly, that only five serpents were looming over the doomed professor, one was stirring very cautiously toward the limp girl. Just when he thought the giant snakes was about to devour the man, the sudden, blinding blue light outside the hanger caused everyone to shy away, followed by a low tremor. Then everyone was knocked off their feet by a earth shattering quake and all attention were wrenched back to the open hanger door.
Bright puff of anti-aircraft flaks dotted the skyline. The blue sphere of impenetrable barrier had all but vanished. Stab of tracers crisscrossed the night sky, with occasional brilliant explosion of some one's ultimate demise. What had transpired earlier still stunned many to their cores.
The first Federation battle emerged from the smoldering cloud. It landed ungracefully on one knee as it skidded past the burning rubble of the shuttle and came to a halt. The Imperials stared at it in dumb found confusion. No one knew why it was here, to assist or –
The answer was given by a burst from its 20mm cannon, exploding three crews by the anti-frame missile launcher. But before it could swing around and fire another volley, someone put a hole through the pilot compartment with a rocket from behind and it crumbled to the ground.
The shooter was torn apart by another burst of high explosive rounds as the second Chinese battle frame landed but it was quickly avenged by no less than three anti-frame weaponries and was turned into a burning wreck.
The third one appeared, guns ablaze, a few stray shots landed close by, forced Diethard to seek cover behind a metal crate, but then the shooting abruptly stopped. With his ears still ringing, he hazarded a peek around the corner; the battle frame simply stood there, its guns hung in the air but the head was turned toward…he followed the line of sight, Oh…
Two of the serpents mounted to its full height, snarled defensively at the motionless battle frame, the rest were-
Diethard flinched and ducked behind cover, the Demon and his serpents were peppered with orange, high-explosive rounds, together with the continuous chatters of its coaxial machine guns.
Then the scream started.
********
God Almighty.
Stapleton thought the Demon could not get any angrier than it did when entering the hanger, he was wrong.
The roar it was letting loose right now was beyond mere words could describe. The deep modulation grew in strength and volume, minced with high-pitch screech of pain, making his heart tremble, strained the already fragile resolve.
He stared on with watery eyes, his ears covered by both hands, just like when he was watching his first horror movie, decades past.
The Demon King rose slowly in the midst of the flames fashioned by the incendiary rounds, with the seven deadly sins heaved menacingly on its back.
It charged the culprit before anyone realized what happened. A thunderous crash preceded by the battle frame veering sideways like a drunken sailor, pieces of debris suspended in midair, the machine fell over and came apart like a plastic toy.
As the last futile effort to save itself from annihilation, the pulverized Gang Lou discharged the SP mine designed to ward off scaling infantry. Most detonated in the face of the Demon, the thousand tiny steel balls ricocheted harmlessly against it, a single round was batted off by one of its tentacles as it left the launcher, it arched lazily into the air and landed fifty feet on the opposite direction.
.
.
.
.
.
Diethard ducked involuntarily when the Chinese battle frame disappeared in a patch of white smoke. Ignoring the flying fragment pining against the wall behind him, he set the camera on top of the steel barrel and zoomed in as the newly morphed, oversize lance drove into the battle frame and through the pilot compartment.
He clenched his teeth to still his excitement. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins was making his movement sluggish. This was a chance of a lifetime; this is what he lived for, the moment of his personal triumph. He was willing to sacrifice his life just so he could be in this moment-
Some instinct made the producer turn his head and look just as the anti-personnel mine landed a mere two feet away from where he sheltered. The igniting flame triggered by a white flash sheeted over him, but the deadly fragmentation pallets killed him before he had the chance to scream.
.
.
.
.
.
The ejection charge on the pilot module went off and made separation, only to be caught by the serpents and flanged into another arriving battle frame, reducing both to useless wrecks, and fell off the platform.
Scores of battle frame were demolished to burning ruins. Attack transports followed in the wake of the escorting battle frames only to be set ablaze upon landing, its passenger razed by the fire.
The mindless carnage went on for two, five, seven minutes. The landing platform were scorched clean of life, friend or foe alike, until someone decided enough was enough and activated the gate control. The gigantic doors trudged slowly, denying them the pathway to hell.
********
"Gino the hanger!"
"I see it," he replied tersely, his sweaty fingers made careful adjustment to what little energy he had left, steering the two crippled battle frames toward the narrowing entry. They were being shot along the way from both sides, the one sided melee were quickly developed into a full fledge dogfights with the arrival of the Imperials. The brutal free-for-all gave them just enough opening to make it up here alive.
"Hang on, Kallen, we are going through," ignoring the master caution panel, he redlined the throttle.
His remaining Float exhaust sputtered for the last time as it propelled both machine through the contracting gap. He applied the vectoring thruster just in time to right their entry, but his Tristan Divider was caught in the leg by the stabilizer fin, the warbling alarm the whine of crushing metals made him wince in pain.
"Gino, are you alright?" Kallen's urgent voice almost made this farce worth it.
"Yes, I am OK, are you-"
The change of gravity made him yelp in surprise, his battle frame was suddenly airborne and the resulting impact disorient his senses.
.
.
.
.
.
Kallen didn't even have time to call out a warning when the monstrosity showed up on her view screen and send Gino's Tristan Divider sailing through the air.
Her brain didn't attempt to understand the why and the how, all she knew what that Gino was under attack and the humanoid…thing was capable of sending reinforced battle frame soaring like children's play thing.
The emergency fuel rod that Gino spared for her had only enough energy to fire a short burst from her wave emitter, but surely that would be enough even for this foul creature.
She labored desperately to recalibrate the setting for a focus release, a wrong spread pattern could have kill Gino easily.
.
.
.
.
.
Gino did his best to fight off the oncoming beast, but his primary actuator was knocked out upon landing, essentially breaking the back of the Tristan Divider. He didn't fire off his cannon in fear of striking the immobilized Guren in the kill zone. This thing was so nimble that it danced between each punch and lashed out at him with multiple limbs, each with its oversize…weapons? And what were those sickening tentacles on its back? The bouncing sack on its chest made it look even more menacing. Every punch or swings he dashed out were returned tenfold. The power was soon lost and the compartment began to buckle and crumble. Before Gino lost consciousness, he thought he heard an alluring voice calling out for Lelouch.
********
The spectrum of red beam left blinding coronas in his vision as the heat wave washed over them.
The red battle frame that charged in through the clamoring hanger door raised its lone claw and the stab of red energy strike the Demon from behind. It screeched in sharply, convulsed like an over extended bow and tumbled onto all four. Those waltzing serpents on its back instantly ruptured and melted like boiling asphalt. A part of its bulging torso separated and fell with a sickening "thud."
Oh shit.
Nicholas inadvertently wondered along the same thought as Stapleton minutes earlier when the Demon scuffed onto its feet, the movements were sluggish and yet unyielding.
It bore its jagged fangs; the slanted eyes glowed in a jarringly scarlet. The low, guttery growls were incensed and predatory. The black, drooping slime that splattered all over began to slither beneath the Demon and leached upward, swathed it in darkness. Then it began to blob and swell, morphing shapes and shadows transfigured the humanoid into a four-legged creature resembling an oversize jaguar.
Cerberus.
That was the first word that came to his mind.
The Gate Keeper from Hell.
The stocky limbs carried the beast soundlessly as it stalked around the distinctive red battle frame lying unmoving amongst the burning rubbles. The three tails whisked languorously as if contemplating the best avenue of destruction. Nicolas witnessed the slouched stance and the flexing of its hind legs, the looming of the inevitability-
"Lelouch."
The name pierced through the deathly silence. Even though the voice was scarcely above a whisper, but the tone was nonetheless commanding, and it had the desired effect.
Nicolas's gaze was torn away from the now stilled beast and gaped at the rising figure, that moment ago, was still a hunk of charring flesh.
********
"Lelouch," C.C. called out to the man that held her future, the man who was trap within the beast.
The torrent of burning rage haunted her even now. The flash backs of death and destruction was a reflection of the carnage before her stirring eyes. She could have let him vent the dark fury until it was hollow and empty, but in order to attain the happiness she would only dared dream in the past, she had to ensure that he would have no regrets.
The dark beast snarled at her, the pair of red eyes slit to an even more fiery glow, but had made no move to advance.
Disregarding the gaping on lookers, C.C. rose with great effort and swayed unsteadily toward his dark prince.
********
"Bishop," Ingham hissed from behind, "what the bloody hell are you doing?"
He was already out from cover, his assault rifle shouldered and the reticule trained on the demonic beast. His index finger rested lightly on the trigger, safety already thumbed off.
He heard someone chanting just off to his left, "Oh God, oh God, oh my God…"
And Nicolas wanted to pray with him.
He didn't believe in God, but he knew the path to hell was just meters away. He didn't want to die, he didn't want his teammates to die, but he had an oath, the same oath that was passed down through generations in the Bristow clan. At the same bare, green-haired girl that was now closing on the beast.
********
She stopped mere feet away from the beast and raised her left hand, and before she could inch closer, the dark being lashed out and bite down with its powerful jaw, the sound of breaking bones snapped through the air. But C.C. didn't cry out, didn't struggle free like one been attack by a dreadful creature. Instead, she winced in tears, stepped even closer to the seemingly petrified beast, with her ensnared arm twisted at a deviant angel, she stroke the jaw lightly with her free hand and whisper.
"Lelouch," she hissed. "Don't let him win, you can fight this," C.C. swallowed hard, the pain was awful. "You are the rightful heir of the Code," she paused briefly, "it's time that you come back to me and fulfill your vow."
The creature seemed to have fallen asleep, but the rigid jaw loosened slightly, and the blood spewed from her deep gash, she stumbled backward a few paces, seething in pain.
The darkness that shrouded him unraveled like hundreds of living threads now receding into his back, revealed his pale and lanky form.
The veil of crimson gleam fading away and a speck of recognition flashed across his eyes.
"C…C-Two?" he croaked, than his form crumbled.
And C.C. was there to cushion his fall, ignoring her own bloodied arm. "I am right here," she sighed softly, caressed his drenched cheek with the back of her good hand.
"Welcome back," she greeted, Lelouch let loose a shallow sight and his eyes fluttered close. "Love," she smiled faintly.
********
To Be Continued…