19 July 2004 a.t.b.

Continuation of Overview from the Camelot Project File 002.

The effects of a Geass vary with each subject that enters a contract, but it is unknown whether a different Geass can be bestowed if a different Immortal enters a contract with the same person. Multiple Geasses in a person have been experimentally proven to be impossible, and so far, the effects of a Geass cannot be neutralized. In addition, Geasses can only be distributed to certain individuals deemed worthy of the contract. Immortals have originally appeared to be fickle with their contracts, but we have confirmed with our cooperative members that to their knowledge, these conditions are absolute.

The psionic powers of Immortals rely on some sort of direct contact with the target. What exactly the target experiences is unknown, but the effects are the same for each tested target. Short-term paralysis and mania have been observed, as well as contraction of the pupil, short-term memory loss, irregular behavior after paralysis, and panic after mania. These powers are nonlethal, but are the result of tampering with the electric signals in the brain, specifically the cerebellum and the prefrontal cortex). Whether this can be replicated by technology remains to be seen, as this tampering alone artificially on human test subjects did not result in anything near the effects of the Immortals' powers.

Their invulnerability and mutual telepathy are still being explored, but it appears that they are absolutes. Immortals are not affected by Geasses and psionics at all, and their telepathy is not affected by distance, time, or any other physical constraints.

Chapter 3: Angel Awakened

10 August 2017 a.t.b., 1942 hours

Shinjuku District, Area 11

!* Code Geass - Stream Of Consciousness youtube. com/ watch?v=lYapZke53yw

"Prince Clovis, we've lost contact with the Office of Special Intelligence's Immortal Unit."

"It's probably nothing to worry about. Camelot was very specific about their competence. I'm sure that the Office can take care of their own."

"Sir, are you sure about trusting Camelot? They're a highly irregular unit, if you know what I mean."

"I do. Very well, Bartley. Send a battalion to engage whatever active resistance there is in Shinjuku."

"Yes, milord!"

"Yes, my lord."

Lieutenant Jennifer Watson and her unit of the Office of Special Intelligence appeared to have fallen under a trance. A faint red ring traced around their eyes, a vacant stare forwards.

In unison, they raised their rifles to their chins. Their fingers tightened on the triggers …

Lelouch turned his head away from the imminent carnage. Still, he heard the report from the business ends of their guns, felt the splash of the lieutenant's blood on his cheek.

So this is how it feels to be a murderer.

I feel like I did the right thing, but … I think I enjoyed it too much. How did this happen? I just felt something. I felt invincible. No, more than that.

I felt like a god.

But … He looked at the bodies, and instantly regretted it.

In a less severe situation, a psychopath would have called it art. In this place, even a psychopath's stomach would have turned. Bleeding grey matter from the temples, hair a matted mess, a crater from one side of the head to a burst on the other. It was bad enough that the lieutenant had executed herself in this fashion. But to have twenty other bodies, lined up and dead in the same fashion … It was almost like a macabre assembly line, a series of broken dolls ready to be repaired by the handyman called God- No. I can't dwell on this. I can be more than this. I can-

"Is that so?" The figure on the ground turned its head towards Lelouch. "It looked like self-defense from down here."

To Lelouch's credit, he didn't pause in shock. "Of course, seeing a bunch of people die because you told them to isn't shocking at all." Then it kicked in. Lelouch froze only for a second before he knelt and began to look at the figure's wounds. "Don't talk. You've lost a lot of blood, and you've been hit in-" He turned C.C.'s body sideways, only to find-

"Surprised?" The figure's muffled voice still was able to carry a morose note. Lelouch just nodded as the wounds just vanished. It was if the figure's body had reset itself. The figure looked at Lelouch again. "It'll take some time before my muscles work again. Now, could you please take this hat and scarf off?"

Lelouch brought his eyes up to the faceplate and balaclava. There's no seam. How do I-

"Button under the ear. Scarf first."

"How did-"

"Glimpses from whatever you're thinking about. It comes with the job. And if you don't mind …"

Lelouch didn't respond. He just focused on the task at hand, not letting the situation affect him. If he did, he would lose his stomach. Answers later. Getting out of here takes priority. Still, his curiosity was aroused. Telepathy, regeneration … Literally Immortal. I wonder what else this "C.C." can do. As his hand found the button, a thought swept across his mind. Is this why the Japanese lost the war?

The faceplate hissed pneumatically, releasing the "scarf." Lelouch pulled it down, revealing the first pale piece of humanity for the figure. The same feminine voice from the contract uttered a low "Thank you." Lelouch blinked in surprise.

"You're a girl?"

"Chauvinist."

He smirked at her reply, despite the circumstances. The removal of the faceplate led to the clatter of the shattered back neckguard, revealing a pair of golden eyes, straight green tresses till the neck, and a red mark barely visible on her forehead. Lelouch pocketed the faceplate and quickly checked C.C. over for injuries, ignoring her pupils' circulatory movement.

"Can you move?" He glanced at her limbs, which stopped bleeding several minutes ago.

"Not really." C.C. wiggled her fingers. "I'll be able to move in two minutes."

She turned her head towards the entrance. "There's no time for you to stay. Reinforcements are coming. If they find you with a room filled with Special Intelligence corpses …" They'll kill you. She didn't have to say it for Lelouch to understand.

"And if they find you?" Even after the terrifying threat of- whatever she did-, Lelouch somehow felt pity for the girl on the floor. It had seemed as though she was reluctant to carry out the lieutenant's orders. Lelouch made up his mind. He would take the risk.

"That doesn't matter. You have to live to fulfill our contract."

Lelouch just pulled C.C. up, crossing her arm over his shoulder as he stuffed her facepiece into his pocket. "We're getting out of here, and you can't stop me."

She sighed. "I hate stubbornness. Besides-"

Lelouch grabbed a motorcycle helmet and placed it over her head, closing the visor. Despite C.C.'s stifled protests, he draped her arms around his neck and lifted her up, supporting her legs with his arms and leaning over slightly.

Exactly how much does this girl weigh? Lelouch started breathing heavily after the first minute of carrying C.C.. This really is becoming difficult. If only I called him beforehand …

"Yo, Lelouch! I got the bike run- Are you carrying-" The unfamiliar voice drew C.C.'s gaze towards the highway platform above.

Lelouch just panted. It felt like his legs would have given out right then and there when Rivalz rode down from the platform, his bike smoking but working. Lelouch ignored Rivalz's exclamations. He just put C.C. into the sidecar before collapsing into it as well.

"Lelouch? Lelouch! Man, I'm getting you to a hospital!"

"No … hospital …"

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Just- Drive back to school."

"But-" Rivalz saw several armed men running towards the machine shop that Lelouch just came out from. "Alright then, we're outta here!"

Lelouch finally let his body succumb to the shock and stress. He fell into unconsciousness to the whistling of the passing wind and the glare of two golden eyes under a dark visor.

Kallen finally came to. She coughed, the bile in her throat aggravating her migraine. The headache worsened when she shook her head in a vain attempt to relieve it. The cuffs restraining her hands and feet didn't budge, no matter how much she struggled. She looked up when she heard the footsteps approaching.

Friends? Or foes? There's only one way to find out. "Identify yourself! I'm warning you, I'm armed!"

The footsteps stopped. Kallen waited anxiously for their reply, still struggling against the handcuffs. "Kallen?"

"Tamaki?" Well, at least someone is alive. "Where's everyone else?"

"Inoue, Yoshida, and Sugiyama are here, along with a couple of other guys across the town." Tamaki grinned as he entered. "Armed? Man, Kallen, you're sure in a tight situation. Mhmm."

"Perv. Just get me out of this."

"I kinda like you like this." Tamaki shook his head. "But, if you insist …"

Inoue turned towards Tamaki. "Just do it already. Somehow, the Britannians found our hideouts. There's been some reports from the survivors that Ohgi and Minami are dead. We're the only ones left." She then noticed the bloodbath. "Kallen, what happened here?"

"I …" Kallen looked down as Tamaki shot off the cuffs. I don't remember. "All I remember is running from them. They caught me and brought me here. That's all." What's harder to believe is that Ohgi and Minami are dead.

Yoshida retreated away from the entrance he was guarding. "We'll figure it out later. There's a massive group of soldiers approaching our position."

Inoue glared at Tamaki. "Couldn't you have taken off the cuffs without shooting?"

Yoshida interrupted Tamaki's protests, saying "I think they were heading towards this area in the first place. They're just sweeping the area."

"Unless that's what they want us to think. We need to get out of here." Inoue readied her pistol. "Kallen, Tamaki. You'll leave through the back first. The rest of us will cover the front."

"But-" Hesitating, Kallen looked outside.

"We'll try to bluff our way through." Inoue smiled at Kallen. "Don't worry about us, just go."

"Right." Kallen nodded and left, with an oddly grim Tamaki following. Just before he exited, he saluted Inoue and Sugiyama as the rest began digging in. He bowed his head, knowing that there would be no way to explain two dead squadrons of Britannian soldiers.

"Well, then." Sugiyama frowned. "Let's make this the day the Britannians remembered Japan."

As if on cue, a Britannian soldier entered the shop. "Have you seen any Eleven resistance-" He looked at the corpses, and then at the entrenched Japanese. "Fu-"

He was riddled with bullets, promptly answering his question. He staggered back, holding on to life and his gun, trying to get steady before succumbing to death.

"Well, that was-"

"Don't say easy." Inoue interrupted Sugiyama's banter, wisely prepping a grenade.

The hail of return fire affirmed both Inoue's comment and decision, pinging off of auto frames and concrete walls. Fortunately for the Japanese, the soldiers couldn't get a bead on them. Confidence and bravado were, momentarily, with the Japanese, and it showed in their marksmanship and tactics. The explosion of Inoue's grenade helped continue their cool under fire, killing in shards and shrapnel.

The initial reinforcements were cut down swiftly, but the Britannian military was not the strongest in the world for nothing. Soon, the hammer of a light machine gun found the death rattle of a resistance member. Its rounds chewed into concrete, showers of dust coating the Japanese.

"How many of those things are there?" Yoshida was crouching behind an overturned steel table, gun ready and body coiled.

"Three, by the sound of it. You ready?" Inoue readied her rifle, a makeshift scope (rather, half of a binoculars corrected for the missing half) aligned with her eye.

"Yep. Ready …"

"I'm good. Fire."

Yoshida peered over his cover, and began firing, haphazardly spraying bullets into the Britannian cover. Inoue steadied her aim, focusing on the larger muzzle flashes.

First was the soldier without his helmet, his mouth set as he shook with the recoil, his shoulder directly bracing the machine gun.

Her rifle cracked.

Second was the faceless soldier, his helmet on and his faceguard unreadable. He was more careful with his shots, taking aim before killing Japanese.

Her rifle cracked again.

Third was a-

A Japanese traitor. He deserved no mercy.

Crack.

Both Inoue and Yoshida's bullets were fired simultaneously. For a few moments, the chatter of the enemy's guns were silenced.

"Did we get them?" Sugiyama stood up. It was a natural reflex of one under fire, without training, to look for any remaining threats. Be that it may, standing up, while natural, was not the best move for Sugiyama.

Blossoms of blood exploded from his body. His body jerked like a marionette controlled by a spasmodic puppetmaster. The crimson waterfalls fell almost artfully, the splatter of blood giving fresh color to the ground.

It was undeniably wrong.

Sugiyama was at the prime of his youth. Were it not for Britannia seven years ago, he would have obtained his college degree and continued his family bistro.

He had a crush on Inoue. Somehow, he was drawn to someone similar to him. Blue hair, tall, and fierce. Opposites attract? Not in this case.

Ohgi's resistance group was the only place where he felt like he belonged. Now, he belonged nowhere except back in the arms of Alaya.

He slumped, a rattling sigh almost lost in the night.

Taking their targets by surprise, bullets soon found their way into Japanese bodies. True to their training, the Britannian fire intensified to suppress the Japanese resistance, until one grenade rolled next to a fuel tank …

The explosions lit up the shop.

What could be described? Their suffering was mercifully alleviated by the resulting deprivation of their senses. Blinded and deafened, the resistance could only feel the heat, the impact, and the shards. Cuts and bruises would be the least they would have if they survived this.

An RPG launched by a resistance member went awry, its course altered by the member's death throes.

Inoue held her injured arm. "How're we doing?"

"We've lost two of the East Siders, Sugiyama's in really bad shape, and I'm down to my last mag. You?" Yoshida reloaded, only to curse. A dull click hid beneath the expletive. "Scrap that, mag jammed. All I've got is my pistol."

Inoue blindfired with the last rounds in her rifle over the upturned table she was hiding behind. Ozone from the rails caused her to cough, the sharp scent stinging her nose. She shook her head rapidly, to clear out her stinging nose. It was a welcome, if brief, distraction. "Same here."

"Time to go out in a blaze of glory." Yoshida grimaced, looking down at his bulging jacket. "Never thought I'd resort to this."

Inoue prepped herself as well. "Makes you feel old, right?"

"Only the good die young."

"So cliché. Let's go."

They leapt out of their cover positions, firing their pistols at the general direction of the enemy while pulling the pins.

The pins spun, already fallen a quarter of the way.

Yoshida ignored the tug on his leg as the bullet passed through. Then the tug on his arm. Then the hammer on his chest. He was able to close the distance between the remains of the shop and the Britannian soldiers. He could see the fear in their eyes and the sweat on their brows, their black armor no longer intimidating. He was beyond caring about his own physical wellness now. Right now, he took a step closer to leaving a memory of Japan imprinted on the Britannian psyche, short-lived though it may be.

The pin was now halfway to the ground.

Inoue found herself standing right in front of an entire squad. Her left arm dangled by her side, numb and bloody. She didn't want to move anymore. All she wanted to do was sleep. She closed her eyes. No longer did the bullets hurt. Her severed spinal cord made sure of that. It was a blessing, really. She would die a quick and painless death.

As the moment arrived, they ignored everything. Their wounds, a soldier jumping out to push his sergeant away, the explosions in the shop signifying the fall of the last resisters.

"Long live Japan!"

Kallen shed tears as she heard the final sacrifice of her friends. Tamaki shook, in both fear and rage.

A gentle, divine wind caressed both of them. Was it a final gift?

For their sakes, let's say it was. The cruelty of faded memories, faded souls is too tangible and harsh to say otherwise.

Private Suzaku of the 5th Area 11 Guard and the sergeant beside him watched in horror as their comrades were obliterated by the two explosions that lit up the twilight sky. The heat continuously washed over them, the whirlwind of shards barely scratching them due to Suzaku's timely actions.

The end of the night … It ended in a quick discordance of violence.

The end of lives … They ended in a quick discordance of violence.

What would possess someone to die like that?