A/N: Sit tight, everyone. There's gonna be some serious action this time. As in, serious casualties.
Expect the entire named cast of Twilight to not survive this chapter. I'm sorry, but that's the way this story proceeds. Once again, no offense to anyone.
Turn 3
The Crimson Flame
"Your Majesty, Colonel Havoc reporting in for duty"
The low, thunderous and extremely conceited – in a sense – voice of the elderly warrior standing before Lelouch told him that Kallen's voice was nowhere near the top of the world in terms of loudness and brashness. But what astonished him even more was the identity owner of such a voice. Never before did he expect a sixty-something year-old man to be so full of himself, and yet again, he had every reason to have that self-trust.
Colonel Nick "Havoc" Parker was, if anything, the complete opposite of Lelouch himself in most aspects. Lelouch had to bend his neck backward to the limit just to look at him eye-to-eye – the veteran was, by far, at least eight inches taller than himself. His broad shoulder and muscular build, rigged with combat-earned scars and calluses, somehow resembled that of an iron boar that had known of only victory in his hunts. Maybe not even Suzaku and his near-legendary physical prowess could stop this behemoth from advancing should they accompanied. His eyes, glued on the figure of the petit ex-emperor with a certain glint of authority as a result of such sharp contrasts, just as if he was asking out loud "Hey, is this kid going to be my commander?"
But the ex-emperor wasn't even angry at that. After all, it was exactly the kind of look Lelouch would expect in someone up for the job.
"At ease, Colonel," Lelouch smiled at the ex-GDI commando. "I suppose you've heard Dr. Ignatio Mobius' share of the story, have you?"
"Already there," Colonel Havoc replied with a dull grin. "Looks like those… good-for-nothing heads of the GDI have been wiped out for good when the Philadelphia blew up."
"You are not too fond of your old employers, are you?" Lelouch slyly blinked.
"Now, now, my young king," Colonel Havoc said, his voice strangely sarcastic. "When your leader starts accepting bribes, expending your men needlessly, expanding costs that need cutting down and cutting down costs that need expanding, they've earnt their place in hell."
"That would count as a bad mark in your resume, you know, Colonel?" Lelouch remarked.
"Resume, my king?" Colonel Havoc chuckled. "Look, good sir, I am now a retiree – a Colonel rank is good enough to convince other that, 'Hey, I'm Havoc! The one who has blown up a friggin' division of Nod infantry, nuked another division and scared another into submission!'"
"You are quite full of yourself, aren't you?" Lelouch said calmly, albeit the exchange thus far was sufficient to learn that the heroic veteran before him was nowhere like the strong-willed, weak-hearted Kallen he knew. "Don't you think… that's not a good way to appeal to a potential employer?"
"I've lived long enough, young king," Colonel Havoc said. "Long enough to see half of my friends blown up, filled with lead, or so contaminated with Tiberium you can't recognize their face when you attend their funerals. The other half are also more likely to be enjoying a one-way trip to the great beyond owing to old age. When you're as old as I am, you'd give squat about women, wealth, fame, or even your own life."
"If you are so… let's just say bored of living," Lelouch raised his eyebrows with some degree of astonishment, "why did you answer to my call then?"
"A soldier's oath is a holy one, especially one made by a member of the Dead-6.," the old Colonel said, his voice descending into a deep, far-reaching well of tone. "Dr. Ignatio Mobius has done a lot for me, and all what I have ever done for him is to let his only daughter die… helplessly, right before my eyes. It's a debt of honor, my king. Ain't gonna pass on to the great beyond without repaying it."
"And so you chose the shortest way – to repay the person who saved Dr. Mobius' life," Lelouch nodded in approval.
"That's you, my king," the Colonel smiled empathically. "I don't like elaborate stuffs, so should I just say simply, I'd follow your orders as far as I can stand up and aim a gun."
"Certainly you are," Lelouch remarked. "Taking down a whole squad of Britannian border patrol with just a submachine pistol is no mean feat."
"That was left-handed," conceitedly remarked the old Colonel.
Apparently the old veteran was going to say more of the GDI Commando-trademarked one-liners, but the next thing that happened cut his speech short rather abruptly. An alarm was sounded, its booming sound filling Lelouch's room in mere seconds, followed instantly by the standard glowing red beams of top-priority warning, startling both figures in the chamber. That level of warning, as Lelouch had programmed, would only set off in extremely rare cases, such as imminent dangers or other complications.
Before Lelouch could even properly react to the newest development, the ex-GDI colonel he recruited had got everything on his behalf done – submachine gun cocked, muscles clenched, eyes sharpened. Any enemy unfortunate enough to think about rushing that army of one would feel the meaning of the word "pain" and "sorry" in a bat of an eye. And an unwary ally almost fell for that – had Colonel Havoc lost control of his trigger finger, the frantic messenger rushing into the chamber immediately after that would have been filled with lead in the first place.
"Your Majesty!" the personnel screamed as he ran into the room, only to be frozen solid by the imposing barrel pointing straight at his face.
"Next time, knock before you enter," remarked the GDI colonel as he lowered his gun upon recognition. That comment was supposed to calm the soldier down a little, though both Lelouch and Colonel Havoc realized that it didn't help much.
"Your… Your Majesty, things… things are going badly!" stuttered the terrified personnel.
"Lt. Francis, get a hold of yourself!" Lelouch said with a visible degree of concern.
"Did the Britannian Army come or what?" Colonel Havoc said reassuringly. "Tell them to come in - I'm needing some good target-practice, by the way…"
"No, not at all, Your Majesty, Colonel," the soldier went on, his voice calming down a little, though nowhere near normality, as his word escaped his lips at Gatling-gun speed. "The town of Forks in the alternative dimension is… under heavy fire!"
"What?" Lelouch's reaction was violent at best and near insane at most, as he suddenly sprang up, his eyes going wild for a brief moment, before the instinct of a leader pulled him together again, though his blatantly wild look was nowhere near the needed level of calm and collectedness he was supposed to have.
"We have detected vast amounts of destruction at the town of Forks, most of which concentrated around the Cullen household!" Lt. Francis gasped for air, likely to reload his machinegun pace. "It… it seems that whatever is out there must be after Lady Renesmee's head!"
"I'll make sure that does NOT happen in any sense of the word! Ready the prototype Lancelot MK-II!" Lelouch roared, as he marched out of the room. "Colonel Nick 'Havoc' Parker, your first mission is this one – we must save Renesmee Cullen at all cost! Follow me!"
"Machinegun cocked and ready," chuckled the said colonel, as he ran after the ex-Britannian Emperor. Though, who was running after whom was another matter entirely.
******
Renesmee stood at the gateway of her now-ruined household, where her vampire family lived… or more likely, used to live. The only thing she could now see was fire, everywhere. As if setting the house on fire wasn't enough, whoever had caused it had made sure that every single thing within a twenty-yard radius from the main building was scorched with the most intense flame they could pull out. Whoever had planned that must have known that her kind was weak to nothing but fire. Nothing, but fire.
At first natural instinct kept her from going in – the flame was ferocious enough to turn Beautiful Nessie into Char-grilled Nessie in mere seconds. But then, when the initial fear was bypassed, Renesmee found herself gliding through the smoldering debris and into the pile of burning junks, in the hope that everyone was alright.
Her hope was dashed as she ran up the central path, when she almost tripped over… on Uncle Emmett's lifeless, severed head. As if that wasn't enough of an horror, Renesmee's next realization was, if anything, dementing to the core. Littering across the place were the severed heads of her uncles, aunts, up until her grandfather and grandmother, scattered at the base of each flaming piles, assumably of their own limbs and bodies. Not only were the culprits extremely malicious in nature, they also knew enough of vampirekind to conclude in such a subhumanly macabre method of execution.
Finally Renesmee's horror peaked when she recognized her own mother, too, among the dead, or more likely, her last possession. Edward Cullen's wife had apparently been given the best care of them all, apparently having been turned into all ashes before her other family members, right up to her skull. If anything, the only thing reminiscent of her was her wedding ring, ironically much more flame-resistant than its unfortunate owner. The golden ring reflected the crimson flame, as if a tragic finale of a supposedly heaven-made love story.
As if not yet believing in the tragic happening, Renesmee took a full turn, staring at the background and foreground, each thoroughly and permanently scarred by the merciless flame. That was then that any trace of horror converted itself into anguish. For good reasons – just half an hour ago Renesmee was probably the happiest girl to have ever walked the earth, with family, spouse, and every bit as much luxury as a princess. Now, everything was gone for good, be it her dear uncles and aunt, her ever-cheerful granny, or even her loving parents, as well as any memory associated thereof.
The last thing Renesmee could remember was giving out a deafening, desperate cry of erupted mental pain. In that one moment, the whole universe seemed to have imploded upon her, crushing whatever she had and treasured, ripping her nearest and dearest from her side for no apparent reason. And then it all went black. Were it because of the intense heat she was never used to facing, or the mental trauma having peaked out of her capacity, she didn't know. All what she knew was everything went black. Physically, she was still standing – her feet could still feel the ground, but mentally, she was completely unconscious.
"Renesmee Cullen," a sullen, threatening voice sounded right behind her, as condemning as it was menacing. "You and your petty family… a threat to our existence. All of us."
"Let's finish this once and for all…" another voice sprang up in resonance with the dancing flame.
Renesmee could only afford some time to shake her head and turn back. The realization was nowhere near comforting, if not the complete opposite.
It was the Volturi Family. The leading ruling vampire clan, who ruled the rest of their kind like an international iron hand of vampire justice, famous for their black-blood-knight-styled methodology. The most nationalistic as well as the most zealous of them all as well, when she remembered it. Their presence would more often than not mean nothing good for the one being visited. As she could vaguely remember, their arrival at this very homestead some time in the past had resulted in a court-like scenario, at which her family had done their very best to convince them that she was going to be harmless, a memory she would like to leave dead and buried. And in this one case, their ominous presence at that very moment of tragedy could suggest only one thing…
"You…" Renesmee could barely speak. "You did this, didn't you?"
"Yes, this is our doing," the brooding, tall leader of the hunting squad nodded with a sinister smile. "There's no point in denying the truth to someone who is going to perish anyway."
"Aro of the Volturi … why?" Renesmee spoke, as she tried to pull herself together.
"We have now received sufficient proof of what kind of damage you can do to us all, should you get to grow up," snidely spoke the head of the Volturi, his voice as critical as it was condemning. "It would be more preferable if… we dispose of you while we still can. Along with those you can depend on."
"Officially now you are our worst enemy," continued the vampire named Marcus. "And you know what happens to the Volturi's worst enemies, in cases like this."
"But enough talk," Aro shook his head decisively, as he turned to his third brother. "Caius, you've always wanted to prove yourself, haven't you? It is now your turn to put an end to this threat once and for all…"
The said vampire nodded, with an extremely conceited smile, mixed with a fine amount of gratefulness, for good reasons. It was well known that Caius had no special ability of his own. He did – the ability to steal other vampires' special abilities if he fuses their venom-blood with his. He hungrily advanced towards the seemingly helpless prey almost three hundred times younger than himself, a glorious Crowning Moment of Awesomeness painted in blood red block letters in his mind. That moment drew closer and closer as Caius closed on Renesmee, licking his lips hungrily. He didn't notice Renesmee's eyes slowly changing color for no known reason, which he didn't consider to be of any importance anyway. Of what use is a prey's desperate glares when she was about to be devoured?
Caius had to learn from that mistake in the hard and fatal way, when Edward Cullen's white Volvo, the only vehicle in the neighborhood fortunate enough to have escaped the flame strike unscathed, suddenly sprang to life for some unknown reason, rand him over, and, to the astonishment of the Volturi clan, suddenly burst aflame with Caius Volturi still stuck in its tread. The explosion was nothing compared to the huge fireball that used to be the Cullen household, but the heat it emitted was sufficient to turn the unaware member of the Volturi clan into a pile of flaming charcoal within mere seconds. When the fire finally settled down, all what was left of the third-in-command of the Volturi clan was only a mass of ashes, buried beneath the smoldering junk of Edward's materialistic pride. It was thus far the quickest slaughtering of a full-fledged vampire in the whole of history.
The Volturi hunting party never understood what had happened. It was almost a minute after the fire settled down that they realized that one of them had met with an untimely death – something they had never seen before. The effect was an universal locked jaw, as their bewildered eyes alternated between their fallen brother and the tool that killed him. What was more astonishing, the cabin was empty – there was apparently no one at the wheels, let alone taking part in such a magnificently life-taking maneuver, leaving only one possible explanation…
"You… bastard!" Aro swore as he stared at the only possible offender, just on time to catch for himself a glimpse of what he had never known in his three-thousand-odd years of existence.
Renesmee's left eye was flaring unnaturally purple.
A closer look revealed more – from the depth of her iris, lay a wing-shaped sigil, as if burning a mark in her pupils, a mark probably symbolic of something he didn't even know. For a split second, it appeared that even the mighty leader of the Volturi was backing off. To add on to the humiliation, his attempt to read her thought, for some reasons, miserably failed, for the first time in his lifelong hunting career. All what he knew or could make out from such a situation, was that Renesmee had taken some unknown powerups, capable of turning the tides of the confrontation with no difficulty at all.
And there Renesmee stood, as if having been transformed into a different person entirely, her look straightly fixed on her foes, her hair flowing in an invisible curtain of wind flushing through her shape, her mouth twisted, as if crying out loud for vengeance. That uncomfortable confrontation lasted for quite some time at the Volturi hunting party's expense, at which point Renesmee blinked, only to stretch her eyebrow as far as it could, revealing the scary, frightening purple fireball again, as ferocious as ever.
"Renesmee Bi Britannia Commands! Shinkirou Knightmare Frame, Combat Mode Set!"
Maybe it was just Aro, but it was as if Renesmee's transformation had been completed with a voice change to top with it all. His centuries of combat experience told him that such a transformation would mean nothing good. At all.
Which was true, especially when a huge mechanical unit, roughly three times taller than each and every of them, dropped on their head from nowhere, crushing beneath its feet the slowest vampire that didn't get away on time. Even when Aro and Marcus and most of their cadre could sidestep on time, the commotion that the object threw up when it crash-landed on the ground was by no means run-of-the-mill, signifying something worse to come.
They were being faced by not a tank, not an artillery unit, not even a half-track, all of which they could waste in no time, but rather a humanoid being of steel, similar to a mythical golem, but built with a technology level nowhere had they seen before. And judging from the way it claimed fatality just with a landing maneuver, it was not going to be friendly to their lot at all.
"Phase Transition Cannon, FIRE!"
Renesmee's cry didn't bear any meaning to the vampires, until another of their party, the unaware Anthenodora, was ripped into halves by the resulting ground-scorching beam cannon, protruding from the steel humanoid's chest at Renesmee's command. The arm-mounted flamethrower on the steel creature's appendage then proceeded to trash the vampire's dying corpse, as well as any hope of revivification. What no vampire killer had ever been able to do – killing off two of the six leading Volturi leaders – had been accomplished within the space of four minutes by a girl who wasn't even fully vampire-blooded.
"… No… No way…" were the only words that escaped the unfortunate vampire coven leader's lips as he stared at his comrade's smoldering remains.
And the rampaging beast didn't look like it would stop anywhere soon. Another beam cannon and another purifying flame shot claimed the lives of another three of the Volturi coven, scorching them to the bones, igniting a small-sized firestorm where they once stood, the extremely inflammable venom they had for blood to be blamed for their demise. There was basically no way to defend themselves – the steel creature's beam cannon sliced through their body as easily as hot knife through butter – no question asked.
And what was worse, when the vampires tried to evade the lasers, another one got squished to the point of unrecognizability by the massive golem's giant feet, and another got a good uppercut punch on the face, throwing him into the air, at which point the mechanical creature was free to fry him whichever way he thought fit. The first time in their lives, the vampires were defenseless. The first time, they were being hunted rather than the hunter. If that battle was to continue, everyone of them up to Aro would be terminated, annihilated, and eradicated from the very existence.
"Shinkirou… Kill… Them… All…"
Fortunately for Aro and Marcus, Renesmee's mental strength had crossed her limit. No sooner than those four words were muttered, the young dhampir felt weak on her knees, and collapsed on the ground as a result, in a very untimely manner. Whatever she had been activating must have caused a huge strain on her already outstretched mentality, to her dismal. As she fainted, her personal weapon of mass destruction similarly lost control of itself, and collapsed on the ground with a loud thud. As if heeding its mistress' final call, the creature's fall crushed another panicked vampire beneath it in a cloud of dust.
As the ball of thick dust died down, it took the rest of the Volturi hunting party quite some time to literally recover from the shock and focus back on the work at hands. Some of them were still trembling – it would take more than a century or so to forget what a humiliating beatdown they had just received. But there was ob to complete at hand for them…
"Alright, everyone," Aro took a deep breath as he stared at Renesmee's completely motionless form. "Let's get this witch waxed…"
It came to Aro immediately after that being said that the one to be waxed was none other than another of his coven, when a harpoon-shaped rocket from nowhere shredded the unfriendly air, slicing through the already scattered lines of the Volturi, pinned the unfortunate victim on the chest, and spectacularly blowing up together with its victim, leaving but a terrified scream of pain in the background.
To the Volturi clan's horror, the next thing they saw was a full block of housing being trampled by what seemed to be the same as the collapsed golem, only larger, winged, and armed with a rifle of epic proportion to match it with. Apparently it was the one responsible for the newest casualty on their side of the battlefield.
"Fixing the Lancelot Albion with a rail-gun-propelled Slash Harken rocket… I'll have a lot to thank the Global Defense Initiative R&D department after today…" a rather prideful, yet regal voice from the creature's very origin told the remnants of the Volturi hunting party that the game was far from over for them. "Huh? Wait a second, is that all of them?"
Lelouch Lamperouge – the ex-emperor of Britannia was seated in the cockpit as he delivered those words. His astonishment was well-founded – the clan of vampires attacking the Cullen household had been given quite a beatdown when he arrived.
"Who are you?" Aro Volturi shouted, or rather, roared at the newcomer with all due rage. "What are you doing here?"
"Vampires, huh?" Lelouch snidely remarked. "I haven't had a fair fight for quite some time – let's have some fun, alright?"
"Impudent human!" Aro growled at the top of his voice. "I'll skin you alive!"
******
"Stupid vampires," Colonel Havoc said as he emptied another clip of GD-2 Standard Issue Assault Rifle ammo on an apparently dying vampire lying on the roadside just for the sake of it. Had he been in control of Lelouch's Lancelot Mk-II, things would have been even more fun for him.
Long story short, the Volturi hunting pack had been almost totally annihilated. Save for Aro, Marcus and their spouses, everyone else had been either ripped into halves by the MVS blade, crushed to nothingness by the sheer pressure of energy bolts, or otherwise just simply ran over by the Knightmare Frame's large feet, completed with a salvo of flamethrower shots. The result was the entire street was filled with vampire corpses, each and every either char-grilled to perfection, or otherwise filled with so much lead they would be unable to move even if they could stand up again.
And to compensate for that, the Lancelot only suffered some minor injuries on its neck as Aro tried to launch an unsuccessful offensive. For that, Lelouch had another reason to thank Dr. Mobius. The additional plating worked well in that case – had it been for a standard Knightmare ceramic plate, Lelouch would have had his pet Knightmare Frame decapitated.
But there was one thing he knew – Renesmee had been well saved. The Shinkirou she rode would be as good as an interdimensional craft in that role. By the time she woke up, she would be in the Insurrection's safekeeping, for that matter.
"Your Majesty, we've got a survivor!"
Lelouch's response to that was especially keen. The ex-emperor quickly dashed towards the direction of the voice, instinctively understanding the situation.
There, at his destination, lay a half-charred, half-mutilated figure, lying where the foyer of the Cullen household used to be. Some how he had survived the worst of the onslaught, for sheer luck. Lelouch's ghastly form hung over his position, recognizing him with a raised eyebrow.
"Edward Cullen," Lelouch addressed.
"Lelouch Vi Britannia," Edward replied. "So… you have arrived…"
"…"
Lelouch didn't say anything. Once more he had failed someone, as if his past hadn't been littered with cases like those. Right now, once again, there lay Edward Cullen, dying on the ground. With the kind of injuries he was suffering from, not even being a vampire would help. Not even the extremely advanced medical system he had under his command would help, when all what was left of Edward was his head and half of his chest. How he was still able to speak must have been a matter of sheer will.
"Renesmee… she is safe, isn't she?" Edward spoke weakly.
"She is," Lelouch nodded. "No one will be able to harm her now, I assure you."
"That's… all what I need, Lelouch Vi Britannia…" Edward replied. "You… shall keep your… promise, will you?"
"I will," Lelouch answered. "I will upkeep my share of the deal… as well as you have done yours."
Edward nodded for the last time as he closed his eyes, the sparkles that made up his primary facial feature dulling forever. Vampires would rarely die, but when one did, it was bound to be ominous.
As he gazed over Edward's dead form, Lelouch couldn't help but wonder for himself.
"This war… it is going to be far bloodier than anyone would want…" Lelouch thought. "Maybe… maybe there will be more terrifying things to come in the near future…"
******