AN: Chapter 5…I suspect there will be 2 to 3 more chapters until I end the second arc of the story and return to Japan once more.
Disclaimer: Code Geass. Not mine. Comprende, amigo?
Arc II: The Fast Game
Part 2: Control the Center
"Breaking News: Eleventh Prince dead?
October 4, 2013.
After 4 hours of fighting, elements of the 2nd Quebec Regiment under the command of His Highness, Lieutenant Lelouch vi Britannia broke through the western segment of the encirclement around Algiers. The victory is a pyrrhic one though, as the 11th Prince led the charge against the enemy line. Unfortunately, reports indicate that the Prince's personal carrier was struck by an RPG, killing two and critically wounding four others, including the Prince himself. It is unknown at this point what the status of the Prince is, but there have been no further sightings of him on the field. It is suspected that the Prince is in critical condition. Colonel Obadiah Ryze, the Commanding Officer of the Regiment, was unavailable for comment.
His bravery has allowed the 2nd Quebec to push the enemy as far as 11 kilometers within the first day. Analysts say that this momentum will likely be maintained by subsequent pushes against enemy positions, likely with the goal of creating a perimeter as far out as Chlef to trap the retreating rebels with Colonel Altair nu Britannia's 16th Imperial Regiment.
So far, NAL casualties from this and previous engagements are estimated around 500 and a further 790 have surrendered. The 2nd Quebec has also destroyed or captured 16 Knightmares, 31 armored fighting vehicles and 68 artillery pieces. One of our informants report that the 2nd Quebec's casualties are at 203 killed and 308 injured.
This is Julie Brunswick, reporting from somewhere in North Africa."
October 4, 2017 (Z Day + 4)
Jerusalem, Israel, Middle Eastern Federation
The name of Cornelia li Britannia was forever memorialized on the Fourth of October in the year of 2017, Ascension Throne Britannia. It was the day the world acknowledged, without a doubt, that she deserved her twin monikers; the "Witch of Britannia" to her enemies and the "Goddess of Victory" to her men.
It was the day the Holy City fell.
With what could only be described as reckless disregard and savage fury, she attacked the ancient walls of Jerusalem; walls which had never fallen beforehand...at least in modern times. It was not a popular move with High Command, citing the probability of unacceptably high casualties.
Jerusalem was Holy, not just to the predominant majority of Muslims, but also to the Israelites that thrived in the Islamic controlled Arabian Peninsula. If there was anything that could unite the two groups even further than they already were, it was the imminent danger to Jerusalem in the form of Britannia's Army.
Early into the war, it had been recognized that Jerusalem would be an important target, not just for its strategic value but also for the morale shattering backwash its fall would have on the MEF. To that effect, the I, II and III Corps had surrounded the city from three sides while elements of the 5th Army completed the encirclement. Meanwhile, I Corp of the 5th Army, under the command of Lieutenant General Bryan A. Haywood, was tasked with keeping MEF reinforcements at bay.
It was, altogether, a momentous undertaking that required a massive mobilization of manpower, material and might.
Close associates of the esteemed Field Marshall would later note, much to the people's disbelief, that the primary catalyst for the attack was Cornelia's foul temper.
"Highness, perhaps it would be wiser for us to wait the enemy out." said General Andreas Darlton over the KMF communications interface, the diagonal scar running through his face, if at all possible, making him sound grimmer. "This could cost us dearly later on."
The Princess's bespectacled Knight of Honor, Gilbert Guilford was of the same mind, but for entirely different reasons. "Princess, Darlton is correct. You will be a target that the enemy will hunt down relentlessly. The war would be lost if you shall fall now." He urged while a pained expression crossed over his normally calm façade.
Cornelia was not about to reconsider, however. Frankly put, she had to deal with far too much shit in her own personal life to give a damn about personal safety. "We seize the city today!" With a growl that could be mistaken for a tiger's, she rushed forward in her customized Gloucester without paying them any further heed. They had no choice, of course, but to follow.
"All units, attack!" Darlton ordered, massaging the bridge of his nose in an attempt to control the signs of what would be a massive headache. Five voices answered in affirmation, the famed "Glaston Knights". They were Cornelia's personal militia, an order of highly trained Knightmare pilots loyal to herself and their adopted father, the General himself.
A barrage of shells and mortar bathed the city's perimeter in thunder, causing more than a few holes to show. A few Knightmares floated out in challenge, hoping to buy time for their comrades against the close combat Gloucesters, while the conventional troops were routed by indirect fire.
"Protect the Princess!" Guilford cried out on the other end of the city, accelerating his own Knightmare to match Cornelia's, the rest of the Royal Guard not far behind.
Cornelia's Gloucester abruptly changed directions - once, twice then thrice – zigzagging across the sand with the KMF's Golden Rule firmly in mind. "Never move in a straight line." A trail of smoke blurred past her and moments later, sand showered the spot where she had once been. To her left, an unfortunate Sutherland had stopped moving to return fire, and was promptly dispatched of in a brilliant explosion, courtesy of the MEF's Bamides.
"Shoddy, oversized imitation Knightmares!" Darlton spat out, skewering one which had strayed too far from its brethren through the chest. In a move that seemed in direct contradiction of the laws of physics, he lifted the 11 meter tall machine, almost thrice the height of his own, into the air, before slamming it back down to the ground with the aid of gravity. The limbless machine gave out a hiss as Darlton removed his bloodied lance from it, before breaking apart violently seconds later and incinerating the corpses within.
Guilford raised his arm backwards, before sending his lance streaking into the air like a javelin. Wasting no time, he charged forward after it, as if playing catch with himself. "Formidable foes, nonetheless. These things have proved themselves to be more than a match for our own forces, despite their technological inferiority." commented the Knight with a tone of grudging respect. He sped past the destroyed remains of one such machine, which had seconds before been aiming at Her Highness; deftly retrieving his lance from its chest despite never slowing down.
"These things could butcher us on the field. But here, in the city?" Darlton chuckled, as he got past the walls, spearheading his detachment's advance. "They're sitting ducks!"
That was a fact nobody would contest. Built with tripod for legs to increase stability and twelve missiles docked atop its elevated shoulders, the Bamide was basically a walking artillery platform. A single 255 mm cannon jutted out of its belly, capable of sending rounds 18 kilometers away without sacrificing its ability to kill on impact. Two machine guns represented its only defense mechanism once things got up close and personal, a 7.62mm designed to hit light vehicles and a .30 cal to provide anti-personnel fire. Heavily armored, it could brush off tank fire with ease, while sand panels, the MEF's newly designed hover technology were used in place of landspinners for greater mobility in the sand. It was designed for combat in the Arabian Desert where the line of sight could be notoriously far, but not to fight a Gloucester head on.
"Colonel Yates," Darlton said, opening up a line to his subordinate. "we are inside the city. Proceed to phase two of the operation."
"Copy that, General." The officer in charge of artillery said. "Cannons will begin rolling in after that path's clear."
The monitor split into six different screens as Darlton observed the situation. It was up to him to issue orders while the Princess was preoccupied with her…stress relief. It was an incredibly quick way to learn how to multitask under pressure. The threat of death was an excellent motivator. "Glaston Knights, hold position until the rest of our men catch up. Proceed to prearranged missions afterwards."
Meanwhile, Cornelia continued on her rampage across the city, blitzing into the very heart of it while her guards struggled to keep up. Already two of their number had been disabled, and one had been unable to pull his ejection lever before a Bamide round ushered him to the afterlife.
"DAMN IT EUPHIE!" cursed Cornelia in a very unladylike manner, for reasons beyond her associates, her eyes blurring slightly from the sorrowful tears that threatened to spill out. "Damn it Lelouch!"
It sounded like she was grieving to Guilford. Suffice to say, charging into the midst of battle without care for danger was a strange way to mourn, but could be interpreted as a bout of suicidal tendencies.
Her Knightmare skidded to a halt when a considerable force barricaded her path. The momentary pause allowed her retinue to rendezvous with their leader.
"We must be nearing the Church of the Holy Sepulcher." Guilford noted as his factspheres zeroed in on the two unmistakable grey domes breaking the skyline. "Temple Mount will be difficult for us to take alone Princess." The other guards, though remained silent, agreed with their captain.
"How long before our men get here?" Cornelia asked irritably, considering those in her path as pests more than anything else. Her hands twitched involuntarily towards the controls.
"At least ten minutes." The purple frame shot forward like a bullet once more, impatiently seeking battle as if driven by a lust for blood. "P-princess! P-pl-please!" Guilford stuttered, a look of increasing desperation clouding his features as he followed dutifully.
"Ten minutes is too long!" Cornelia snarled, ignoring the nuisances known as small arms fire bouncing off her armor. "We must end this now!" She unlatched the assault rifle strapped to her back, and blindly fired into the enemy, channeling grief and sorrow into single-minded rage. Condensed as they were, aiming was unnecessary.
The party pressed on, leaving behind a half dozen smoldering armored vehicles and more than triple that in corpses.
Within ten minutes, the Bamides assigned to the defense of Temple Mount were eliminated. The first of the Starfall artillery rolled in eight minutes afterwards, at which point the Royal wasted no time reentering the fray, much to Guilford's continued dismay. Darlton, on the other hand, wondered what news she had received that could have propelled her on this suicidal warpath. In any case, the city was taken with ease after the fall of Temple Mount. With the artillery there safe from return fire, as the MEF wouldn't dare desecrate their holy site, they were able to advance into the city without much trouble. Enemy concentrations were pummeled and scattered, the remnants surrounded by the overwhelmingly superior Britannian army.
Cornelia's steam finally "ran out" after an hour of continuous combat. Darlton secretly suspected that her energy filler had merely reached critical levels, forcing her to pull back from the front or risk the humiliation of having to be rescued.
"Darlton, report." Cornelia's face blinked into existence on the veteran's screen, a perpetual scowl plastered on it, it seemed.
"The Knesset has been surrounded, Princess." said Darlton with a wide grin. "Their surrender will mean an end to organized resistance."
Cornelia didn't seem entirely pleased with the news. "What of Mount Zion and Mount Olive?"
"Unfortunately, it has yet to be taken."
"Those remain to be the last of the seven mountains that we must capture. It will prove to be a continuous pain in the ass for us otherwise."
"We don't have the men to spare, Highness." Darlton said hesitantly. "We've suffered significant losses, and most of our remaining units are preoccupied in quelling dissidents and the remaining pockets of resistance."
Cornelia frowned. "How badly were our losses?"
"An estimated 9,000 men are KIA. Another sixteen suffering from injuries." Darlton answered morosely, lips set in a grim line. "We've lost enough frames to form a brigade and a couple hundred tanks based on initial reports."
"Rally as many Knights as you can spare and tell them to meet me at point J-8." She ordered sternly.
"As you wish, Princess Cornelia." Darlton replied perfunctorily.
He could count on one hand how many times Cornelia had acted like this in all his years with her. This was a whole different level of anger.
She was downright pissed.
"Hell hath no fury like Cornelia scorned." muttered Darlton, his stomach turning into a cold pit. In a rare moment of empathy, the grizzled general actually felt a twinge of pity for the soon-to-be butchered troops of the MEF, and shivered involuntarily as he thought of what the Princess might do to them.
On the upside, at least casualties would be lower than expected.
October 3, 2017 (1 day prior)
Tokyo Airport, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11
"Presenting, Her Highness, Euphemia li Britannia, 3rd Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire, 6th in line to the Imperial Throne and the Countess of Essex!"
The soldiers lining the path knelt deferentially in greeting as the princess, barely fifteen herself, treaded on the soft carpet with an awkward gait. Flashes of light threatened to blind her as paparazzi and newsmen milled about to take shots of the latest celebrity to grace them.
The fur walkway ended at the feet of her brother, Clovis la Britannia, who welcomed her with arms wide open and a genuine, warm smile. His personal sentries, in contrast, observed the proceedings icily behind tinted shades and in their expensive, hand stitched Italian suits.
"It has been far too long, Euphie!" Clovis exclaimed, giving her an affectionate embrace, before taking a hold of her by the shoulders. He eyed her, up and down, before coming to a conclusion. "You've grown taller."
"Just a tad bit." She replied, holding up a pinch of air. Euphemia detached herself from her brother's grip and curtseyed though nearly stumbled as she did so. "I am here by the Emperor's command, Viceroy."
Clovis smirked at her unusually formal display and decided to play along. "It is a pleasure to have you with us, Sub-Viceroy." Ever the gentleman, he offered his arm to the lady.
Euphie nodded graciously, accepting the offer and let herself be led towards the awaiting limousine. "How are things here in Area 11?"
"Well enough I suppose." Clovis answered with an offhanded shrug. "Not much going on since Lelouch left." His eyes softened. "How is he by the way?"
"I've heard of nothing from him of late. The lack of news is…frustrating." huffed the Princess.
"He's not…" Clovis trailed off, refusing to finish his sentence.
Euphie shook her head. "Lelouch isn't that easy to beat. He survived on his own for years. Now, he has an entire regiment of men with him."
Clovis snorted. "It would be rather ironic though."
"We can do nothing but pray and hope, brother. I believe Lelouch will find a way back to us." Euphie stated with conviction. "Even brother Schneizel agrees."
"Well, if the esteemed Lord High Chancellor agrees, than it must be true." Clovis muttered, rolling his eyes.
Euphemia frowned disapprovingly. "Must you keep up your attitude with him?"
"Old habits die hard." answered Clovis with a cheeky grin. "How's sister? I'm surprised she let you off on your own. That girl acts as if she's your mother."
A faint blush colored her cheeks a few shades darker than her pink hair. "She certainly wasn't pleased with the news, but father's word was final. Besides, can you blame her for caring? The news about Lelouch hit her pretty hard as it is. To have two of her own family sent to an Area notorious for its insubordinate populace is pushing the limits."
"Area 11 is way safer than Area 17." Clovis answered defensively, voice rising slightly. "We're facing domestic terrorism, not full scale civil war backed by the European Union."
"But the Chinese are just across the sea, aren't they?"
Clovis smiled, ushering in his sister into the awaiting car after their very slow march.
"Looks like we have our work cut out for us then, Sub-Viceroy."
October 8, 2017 (Z Day + 8)
Chlef (approximately 50 kilometers west of Algiers), Area 17
"This is Taskforce Alpha to HQ, requesting armor support pronto!" Wood screamed into his radio. A stray mortar shells hit a few meters away, showering the miserable boy in warm sand.
"Alpha, this is HQ. 1st Squadron was ambushed along the way. You'll have to hold out for a while longer." was the reply.
He let the radio drop into the sand uselessly. "Looks like we're on our own for now."
Beside him, Haywood cussed loudly. "How are we supposed to fight like this? We've barely got any tanks with us for this op! We can't get anywhere near those Bamides."
To his other side was Cameron, firing randomly into the enemy line. "We could use mortars to hit the enemy." He suggested meekly.
Wood was already shaking his head, dismissing the idea. "Those things don't have the range to hit them. They'd be torn to shreds before they could deploy, even with covering fire."
"Who knew 3 Bamides and a couple dozen rebels could cause us so much trouble." muttered Haywood.
"We expanded too fast. We must be holding at least 5,000 kilometers worth of are after Bravo took Medea!" Wood grumbled.
"It's all part of the Colonel's plan, isn't it?" asked Cameron. "Take the three cities, hold our ground and wait for the other Regiments to get to us."
"A sound plan in theory, but he's forgetting we're not exactly experienced enough to handle this!" snapped Haywood.
"Lelouch could have done it." Wood pointed out.
"Lelouch isn't with us!"
"If you're quite done bickering."
The three of them looked around, sharing befuddled looks, before realizing that the voice had come from the discarded radio. "Who is this?"
"Doesn't matter. Do you want to win or not?" The voice rasped, sounding hoarse.
"If Mohammed will not go to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed." the device crackled, much to the confusion of the three officers. As if sensing their incomprehension, the voice explained further. "You have to set up the mortars first, and then draw the Bamides into their range. Bait them in, then give 'em hell."
"That might just work." mulled Wood. "Cameron, tell Victor to pull back his platoon. Haywood, get the support company in place to cover their retreat." The two pulled out their own radios in response and began relaying the orders.
A few minutes passed in silence as the three waited with bated breath for the results.
"It…it's working, sir! Enemy frames are in range. Permission to fire?" The radio hissed.
Wood nodded to Cameron, and he brought the radio to his lips. "You are weapons free."
The sound of distant explosions greeted them and, moments later, three trails of smoke rose over the horizon.
"Enemy frames have been eliminated. Enemy infantry are falling back on all sectors!"
"Do not pursue. Our orders were to secure the city." Haywood responded immediately.
Wood tried to hail the voice, but the only response that met him was static.
He had a good idea who it was though.
October 10, 2017
Location Classified
Four masked figures crept along the edge of the facility quietly, submachine guns in hand and ready to rip. The lead figure, a lean man by the shape of his body, held a hand up. The other three stopped in response, shoulders tensed as they leveled their SMGs at the suspiciously open door. Moving cautiously, they formed a semicircle around the door. The lean man went in first, prodding the door further open with the tip of his gun, body tensing as he prepared to fire if necessary.
The door swung open to reveal four prone bodies, bullets lodged firmly between their eyes for a quick and clean death. It seemed to be the work of an expert marksman. The man swept the room with his eyes, his gun following, while his teammates entered.
"Someone was here first." whispered a second man to the first, shuffling his feet anxiously.
A third man beside him rolled his eyes. "No shit, Tamaki." He replied, though the slight tremble in his hands betrayed his nerves.
Bang!
The three spun on instinct, facing the door that had shut behind them. They were greeted with the sight of their youngest member struggling against a Chinese man in a Britannian uniform, sporting an odd looking violet visor, with one arm around her neck the other holding a pistol casually to her head. He gave them a toothy grin, and released his hostage. "I come in peace."
Tamaki, impulsive as always, was the first to speak. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded angrily.
The Chinese man paused to consider his words, before smirking as if to say that he knew something they didn't. "I am an ally, Shinichiro Tamaki. I share your goals in this mission."
There was a sound of four SMGs cocking. The stranger held his hands up in surrender, letting his pistol his the floor with a clang. "No need to get violent now." He said, chuckling lightly. "Like I said, I mean you no harm."
"Answer our question! Who are you?" The lead man said, taking a step forward.
"Who I am isn't important." He answered without answering. "Toru Yoshida, Kent Sugiyama and Kallen Kozuki…or should I say Kallen Stadtfeld?" Just to further his message, he gestured to each in turn, showing just how much he knew. "I've had my eye on the four of you since you stepped foot on the base grounds. It's impressive that you've managed to make it this far without a plan, but I'm afraid that won't get you much farther."
"Explain." Sugiyama growled.
The foreigner smirked gleefully, pocketing his hands and leaning against the wall in a very informal pose. "To get to…the poison gas requires that you take a special elevator, located exactly twenty three meters past the left door. That will take you to an underground bunker with several checkpoints and even heavier security. With neither a plan of action, a map of the facility or knowledge of the security codes, how are you going to move forward?"
Kallen frowned. "And I suppose you do?"
"But of course." He began to stride forward, shoulders squared and head high, but not before recovering his pistol. "You can't really trust me, but you'll have to if you want to get out alive with the package."
"You a Federation agent or something?" Tamaki asked.
The Chinese man grabbed one of the dead guards by the collar, before dragging it along with him. "In a manner of speaking. Hurry now and change into these uniforms."
"I don't trust this guy." Kallen murmured to Sugiyama, grimacing distastefully as she stripped a body of its grabs.
"We'll have to play along for now." replied the blue haired freedom fighter. "He looks like he knows what he's doing."
"That's what scares me."
Once they finished dressing, they hid the bodies in a nondescript room courtesy of their mysterious ally, before proceeding to the elevator like he said. The four shuffled uncertainly behind the agent, hesitating to follow the unknown element. "Stand at attention, boys and girl." He instructed, straightening up himself. "You've got to sell yourselves here."
The elevator doors opened.
The agent led them through the corridors with practiced ease, giving away no clues that it was his first time to step foot in this part of the base. Once in a while, he would pause to chat with a soldier, seemingly familiar with the lot of them.
Each passing second made Kallen even more worried. How was the man able to pull this off…unless he was working with Britannia? It was a possibility, though remained highly improbable.
What had their group done, after all, to warrant such lengths from Britannia? They certainly didn't need to pull off such an elaborate deception, if it was one, in order to be rid of them. Compared to other groups, such as the Japanese Liberation Front, the Yamato Alliance or even the Blood of the Samurai, their…team was nothing. They didn't even have a freaking name yet!
At last, they reached their stop in front of a large titanium sliding door. The two guards standing at attention raised their palms to warn them from coming closer. "Sorry Sergeant, nobody's allowed in today. Dr. Harrison's orders." One of the guards offered a sheepish grin, his tone vaguely apologetic.
The "sergeant" nodded understandingly. "Not a problem, private. We'll just be-"
Faster than anyone anticipated, he had raised his pistol and fired twice, resulting in two dead guards. The man blew on his silenced gun theatrically in what was his imitation of a sheriff.
"Align one of their eyes with the scanner." He ordered, punching in a 10-digit code into the keypad. Sugiyama and Tamaki stepped forward, hauling up the closer guard. Kallen watched with some curiosity as the biometric scanner produced a horizontal laser.
The agent took the time to replace his pistol for one of the guard's more appropriate rifles.
Moments later, the door emitted two soft clicks, indicating it had been unlocked, before sliding open automatically. He wasted no time, stepping into the room with index finger clasped tightly around the trigger. Yoshida was not long behind, unleashing his own armament on the hapless victims inside. The two methodically emptied their clips, before moving in further down the room.
Kallen was the next one to enter, while Tamaki and Sugiyama stood vigil over the door. The scene inside was…disturbing, to say the least.
The former occupants of the room had chained a green haired woman to an operating table. It looked as if they were conducting human experiments. Kallen walked over to the naked woman and felt for her pulse.
She was still alive, amazingly enough.
"What the hell is this? This isn't the bomb!" Yoshida grabbed their ally by the collar and roughly shoved him up against the wall. "Did you drag us all the way here to rescue your girlfriend?"
The agent's eyes flickered with mild irritation as he kicked his subordinate in...well, somewhere no man should ever be kicked. The results were undeniably effective though, as Yoshida whimpered on the floor, cupping his nether regions protectively.
Despite the situation, it elicited a chuckle from Kallen. Yoshida could not bring himself to glare at his "friend," distracted as he was by the pain…down there.
"There was never any poison gas in that container. It was a hoax by the Britannian army." The man explained, walking towards one of the drawers and withdrawing a syringe. "She was always the objective here, whether you knew it or not." He punctured her arm with the needle and cut loose the chains holding her down. The iron chains clattered against the polished floor.
Her eyes opened to reveal two glowing orbs. It was the most vibrant shade of yellow Kallen had ever seen, mesmerizing in every sense of the word. It was neither a bright yellow, like the sun's golden rays, nor was it yellow like a cat's eyes. It was a deeper of a deeper hue altogether…more sophisticated.
Amber perhaps?
The agent's expression could only be described as one of sheer bliss. He looked like a drug addict getting his daily fix as he drank in the sight before him greedily. An insane smile replaced his easy going one, and Kallen wondered what the history between the two of them was.
"C.C.!" cried out the agent ecstatically, stepping forward with arms raised to envelop her.
C.C. frowned jadedly, looking incredibly ungrateful for someone who had just been rescued. Kallen wondered if they were lovers who had left on bad terms.
C.C regarded him impassively, letting herself be hugged. Then she spoke, with a voice that was more weary than pleased.
"Hello…Mao."
October 11, 2017 (Z Day + 11)
Lelouch stood at attention inside the Monarch 4 Command Landcruiser. He had been summoned from his comfortable bed at the makeshift hospital with the attractive Red Cross caretakers by his beloved commander, likely for yet another reprimand. It seemed the man hated him with a passion for simply being a Prince. What's more, he didn't bother to hide it. Either the man was extremely brave or extremely suicidal.
Probably both.
Colonel Ryze entered the room in his dusty combat fatigues, indicating he had recently been on the field, directing some operation or another. Lelouch stiffened in anticipation of the coming rebuke. He briefly wondered if he should have feigned feeling light headed instead of bothering to get up. He'd have gotten to stay with the cute blonde taking care of him. She was really starting to open up to him too.
"How are you feeling, Lieutenant vi Britannia?" began Ryze conversationally, circling around him in a predatory fashion. It reminded Lelouch of a tiger about to pounce on its food.
"Well enough, sir." Lelouch replied rigidly, steeling himself for what was to come.
Ryze paused in front of him. "Do you realize what your actions last week have caused?" He looked him in the eye, trying to read his thoughts.
Lelouch maintained his composure, but was uncertain how to respond. His men had succeeded in breaking past the blockade, and based on the latest gossip, courtesy of Andrea, his talkative nurse, they'd pushed out by at least 40 kilometers. With anyone else, that would've been a good thing.
"You're not just anybody anymore, Lelouch."
Cornelia's last words to him echoed in his head. Yes…he was a Prince now. Putting himself in unnecessary danger, normally a soldier's virtue, was a royal's vice. It was one of the things Cornelia was often criticized for. A Prince's place was at the helm, not the front.
Ryze was someone who detested the bureaucracy, of which the Imperial Family was head of. A political perspective would likely set the man off, so Lelouch chose to play it safe and stick with military facts for now.
"Sir, I succeeded in breaking the blockade with minimal casualties, sir. Beyond that, I suspect that it allowed us to gain momentum against the NAL, letting us push them even further back, sir."
"You compromised your own safety." Ryze said pointedly.
"A soldier must be willing to lay down his life for his country and his brothers." Lelouch answered, inwardly noting the stark resemblance his current situation had with that during Basic. "Charging forward was the only way the mission would have succeeded. It was a calculated risk, sir."
"A risk that's brought me no end of headaches," noted Ryze wryly. Lelouch tilted his head, face scrunched in confusion. "You haven't been keeping up with the news." He stated, not asked. "A reporter did a piece on you, implying that you were dead. To make matters worse, NAL has been jamming our communications, which we've only stopped a few hours ago. Suffice to say, High Command was baying for blood until I explained that you were still among us. I've had numerous calls since then from all manner of people, the Field Marshal being one of them."
Lelouch winced, giving his CO an apologetic look. He knew firsthand how rabid Cornelia could be when it came to protecting family. "I hope the experience wasn't too traumatic for you, sir."
"Nothing I couldn't handle. It was, at the very least, an interesting experience." Ryze, grinning widely, leaned forward to whisper a secret. "Who knew the Field Marshal had such an.…extensive vocabulary?"
"However, I've also received an interesting report from Lt. Wood. An 'unidentified' voice gave them tactical advice on how to proceed; advice which allowed them to secure Chlef with minimal casualties." The colonel peered into him, searching for the truth. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
Lelouch had the decency to look abashed. "That was me, sir. I heard that the men had hit a stumbling block. I wasn't about to let them throw away more lives than necessary." The floor pattern suddenly seemed very interesting to the wayward Prince.
"If you had done it for any other reason, I would have your ass in front of a court martial for going against the chain of command." Ryze threatened sternly. "Make no mistake, however. If you so much as think of going behind my back again, I will have you shipped back to Pendragon before you can say 'daddy.' Am I clear?"
"Sir, yes sir."
"Are you enough to return to the field?"
"Sir, yes sir!" Lelouch replied again, noticeably more enthused.
"Good, because you're needed, Lieutenant." Ryze admitted in a display of uncharacteristic contrition.
It took all his discipline to keep his mouth from dropping in shock. "Sir?" asked Lelouch uncertainly.
"I was wrong about you. Despite your initial failing to establish communications with me before entering Algiers, it was not entirely right of me to say what I did." apologized the colonel. "You risked your life out there for your men and that took some serious balls for you to do. I can…respect that. I took the liberty of skimming through your records. Fairly impressive performance in the academy, Lieutenant. A little more experience on the field and we'll make a general out of you yet." He eyed him up and down appraisingly, no doubt estimating how much time his newfound goal would require.
Ryze nodded, satisfied. "For your assignment, I am placing you in charge of Taskforce Alpha. I have a feeling your skills will be put to the best use there." He informed him. "I've also received a surprising call from Command. Your new toys will be arriving soon enough. I suppose the upcoming fight for Chlef will be a time as good as any to break them in."
Lelouch smirked mischievously. "Thank you, sir!"
"I must admit, I find myself intrigued by your frames. Based on the schematics, they seem to be focused on long range support?"
"That's partially right, sir. The Argyl prototype was designed to provide precision fire support. It was built to go toe to toe with any frame, and come out on top of any long range engagement." Lelouch explained, puffing his chest out proudly as if boasting of his child.
"It'll get just that chance at Chlef then." Ryze said, crossing his arms. "Most of our Knightmare assets are required here, in Algiers, or to the south in Medea so you'll certainly be outnumbered. You're dismissed, Lieutenant." Ryze said. He turned on his heel with a click. "Oh, and try not to get killed out there. I've got enough problems on my plate without having to plan your funeral as well."
Lelouch couldn't help but smile. "I'll do my best, sir."
It was time to get back to work.
Viceroy's Palace, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11
"Let me get this straight," said Clovis, the steel in his voice caused the men standing at attention to flinch, "you're telling me that a bunch of ragtag terrorists managed to break into one of my most highly guarded facilities, steal one of our top secret weapons, massacre the personnel involved and walk out scot free?"
"Y-your-"
"Shut up Bartley." Clovis seethed, glaring derisively at his so called military advisor. He toyed with the idea of throwing the obese man into the dungeons. That might teach the man something about military readiness. "I am very seriously considering having you shot right now." He informed him plainly, the level tone that he used only reinforcing Bartley's belief that he would carry through with it.
A twitch in Soresi's lip diverted his attention.
"And you, Major Soresi, what do you have to say for yourself? That installation was in your district, was it not?" Clovis said icily, all the while wondering why he put up with their incompetence. The gun hidden in his drawer was suddenly an enticing prospect. "You've failed to protect it not once now, but twice! First Shinjuku, now this."
It was Kewell's turn to feel the pressure as the room's attention subtly shifted towards him. With the grace of a skilled politician, he handled the delicate situation with his silver tongue.
"I shall have to look over the base commander's performance once I get back, Prince Clovis." Kewell smoothly replied. "I assure you I will get to the bottom of this." The aristocrat vowed.
"If you wish to keep your head attached to your neck, you better do so quickly." Clovis snapped, obviously not buying into his words. "I've had just about enough of this, gentlemen. First, the base, next the JLF are gathering in strength at Narita. These rebels are getting bolder by the day and you men are letting it happen!"
"If I may, Your Highness, perhaps we can use this as an opportunity?" Kewell's dark skinned associated was the one to speak. Baroness Villeta Nu was her name, a rather fine specimen of the fairer sex in Clovis' opinion, though the thought did little to improve his mood. "Perhaps we can use their own boldness against them. Let them believe they have a chance, then crush their hopes with an iron fist.
Clovis considered the idea. It was the first good one he had heard all day. "See that it is done, Major Nu." ordered Clovis, his appreciation for her going up a few notches and expanding past just her looks.
"As for the rest of you," he turned his eyes at the remarkably silent military officers, "I want the rebels who stole the gas found. I want the gas to be captured and I want anyone near it dead. Am I making myself absolutely clear?"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
October 14, 2017 (Z Day + 14)
Britannian Forward Barracks, Chlef, Algeria , Area 17
"Attention!" Wood shouted sharply, causing the room's occupants to stand in greeting. Despite the solemnity required of them, they were grinning from ear to ear.
At the doorway was Lelouch vi Britannia, and the newly appointed CO of Taskforce Alpha. "At ease." He replied and the men visibly relaxed.
"It's good to have you back with us, sir." Wood greeted.
Lelouch patted his subordinate on the shoulder encouragingly. "Thank you. All things considered, you did a good job here, Wood."
Wood waved away his praise. "It was still you who guided us when it mattered most. We'd never have been able to take Chlef otherwise."
"Give yourself a little more credit than that, Wood." Lelouch answered. "Now, give me a sitrep."
Wood complied eagerly and pulled out a map of the area to begin the situation report. "Taskforce Alpha is, to date, composed of 3 rifle companies, a support company and a tank squadron. Lieutenants Hopkins, Cameron, Haywood and myself were the officers assigned here. As of last count, we have 379 men ready for combat and another 52 with varying degrees of injury."
That meant a little under half of his theoretically 700 strong force was unavailable to him. "What of our armor?"
"14 Darwins still usable at this point, sir, but we've got 4 attached Scourers and 4 Starfalls." Lelouch considered it for a moment. While the shortage in main battle tanks was cause for concern, the other combat vehicles more than made up for the deficiency.
"Support company's equipment?"
Wood sifted through his table of organization and equipment, haphazardly strewn on a table, before speaking. "The support company has 5 HMG teams, 9 mortar teams and enough ammunition to give these Africans hell thrice over."
"Have the men sink the tanks." It was a standard defensive measure used by many commanders. A fairly popular principle of Armor Doctrine was to place tanks in positions where they could fire, without being fired upon. In other words, show the guns, but hide the body. "Here, here and here." Lelouch pointed to three areas, seemingly at random, on the map.
Wood took note of the points, marking them with a pencil. "Lieutenant Wood, come in, Lieutenant Wood!" The radio, sitting quietly on the table up until that point, crackled.
"This is Lieutenant Wood. What is it?"
"We've got unidentified Knightmare frames approaching us from Algiers! They look to be a new model…has Command said anything about this?" The voice of the sentry was frantic. Lelouch could picture him panicking right about now.
"Those are some of our new toys. Let them through." Lelouch instructed.
Wood nodded to confirm. "They're new models Command wants to field test. Let 'em through."
"Copy that, sir." The sentry clearly sounded relieved by the news.
"Let's continue…" Lelouch said, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.
They managed to finish in good time, wrapping things up before their guests arrived. Victor and his men marched them into the room at gunpoint, despite the emblem of a Major clearly showing on the lead man's epaulettes. Lelouch nodded approvingly at the action. These men were still, technically, unknown to his men and it was wise to practice prudence at times like this.
The major dropped to a knee subserviently as soon as he was a few steps from the Prince. His posse followed suit with considerably less ease and zeal. Lelouch waved at his guards to stand down. "Jeremiah Gottwald, I presume?"
"Yes, Your Highness!" barked the strict man. "I am here as you commanded, Sire."
The prince eyed the four, widening slightly as he gazed over a familiar brown haired Japanese, but otherwise without comment. "Rise, Sir Gottwald and introduce your men to me."
Jeremiah rose slowly, still keeping his pose respectful. "To my right is Private First Class Eric Maximillan." The Britannian youth bowed to his Prince once more, honored to be in his mere presence. "To my left is Private Kenji Yamashina." The Japanese boy followed Maximillan's example, holding his head down even longer because of his status as a Number. "Lastly is Private-"
"Suzaku Kururugi," interjected Lelouch. "You're the last person I expected to see here."
The son of Japan's former Prime Minister bowed. "Someone has to keep you out of trouble, Your Highness."
Gottwald's mouth dropped, his eyes ricocheting between the two as his mind tried to make sense of the scene. "You two…know each other, Sire?"
"Suzaku was my host during my stay in pre-war Japan." Lelouch explained, before addressing his long lost friend once again. "For God's sake, look me in the eye Suzaku! Since when did friends treat each other so stiffly?"
He raised his head to regard his friend. "It wouldn't be proper. You're a Prince now."
A playful fire danced underneath Lelouch's eyes. "Are you saying I wasn't seven years ago?"
"I…no, that's not what I…uhh..." He stammered dumbly, taken aback by the sarcastic response.
Lelouch smirked mirthfully. "I'm just playing with you. Sheesh, relax a little." He said casually, rolling his eyes. "Seriously though, the Britannian Army is the last place I expected to find you."
"The same could be said for you." Suzaku shot back.
"Touché, but I joined because of circumstances beyond my control. What about you?"
"I've always believed that the best way to change things would be to work within the system."
"Idealistic as ever." Lelouch muttered, his smirk turning into a warm smile. "It's good to see you haven't changed after all these years."
Violet eyes turned to regard his newest recruits once more.
"Welcome to the war, gentlemen."
"Overseer, this is Scorpion One, we have visual on the Mutt."
"We read you, Scorpion One. Any changes to report?"
"Negative, Overseer. Mutt is approaching the Doghouse as planned. ETA 15 minutes, over."
"Copy that, Scorpion One. Head back to base, over."
The Britannian light tank rolled out of its cover, speeding away from the encroaching mass. A few shells tried futilely to hit it, but found that the vehicle moved too fast and was already out of their range. The formation slowed, spreading out to cover more ground. Infantry began to pile out of the tanks, searching for hidden traps that could doom their force.
"This is Overseer to all units. Roll out the Welcome Mat, over."
In the distance, four rail guns locked in on the awaiting targets, before unleashing their deadly payload without discrimination. Hundreds of small, accelerated pellets assaulted the unprotected soldiers milling about, shredding through them mercilessly. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped, but the damage was already done. A score of men would never rise again.
The enemy tanks and Bamides rolled forward in response, hoping to cut their own losses by slaying the as of yet unseen assailant. The Argyls began an orderly withdrawal, stopping every once in a while to fire another barrage; never staying long enough to get caught, but just enough to keep the enemy on their tail. If the commander had paid more attention, he would've realized it was a trap in the making as his heavy hitters strayed away from the main formation of footmen.
"Welcome Mat to Overseer. The Mutt is pursuing as expected."
"Fall back to next positions, Welcome Mat. Prepare for Phase 3. Overseer to Bone, you are clear for Phase 2, over."
All along the road, shells tore into the vulnerable sides of the armored column. The Darwin's high explosive anti-tank or HEAT rounds ripped apart the air, each shot appearing to rock the very earth with their unholy explosions. While the shells were particularly effective against the armored fighting vehicles, all it could do was make the bulky mechas uncomfortable. Enemy tanks attempted to return fire, but found that most of their ammunition fell short, hitting the sand around the hidden tanks uselessly. With only their turrets exposed, they proved to be exceptionally difficult targets.
The Darwins chorused as they fired a second salvo into their hapless foes, tearing through hull, turret and armor in a deadly display of pyrokinetics. A lucky shot managed to glance a Darwin's hatch, blasting away its overhead covering and exposing the crew to the elements.
"Overseer, this is Bone. The Mutt is playing fetch."
"Copy that, Bone. Proceed to Phase 3, over."
The Britannian main battle tanks moved out of their cover, seemingly to flee from the approaching, and so far unstoppable, Bamides. The frames trudged on enduringly, despite their attached support units having been whittled down or separated by the hit and run tactics. A few shots were exchanged between the parties, and a tank would occasionally cease moving, but other than that, it was relatively uneventful.
It didn't take long for them to reach the city's perimeter, where the tanks promptly scattered in different directions. The Bamides, still numbering roughly 80 strong, split up in response to relentlessly run down the dispersing vehicles, refusing to let a single one escape. It was revenge for their fallen comrades.
In one part of the city, a triad of Knightmares chased a lone vehicle as it turned this way and that, weaving through the buildings like they were a maze. So engrossed were the trio in keeping up that they failed to see the crouched RPG teams waiting in the sides. By the time they realized what had occurred, the men had faded into the shadows once more, leaving the Bamides without their sand panels for rapid movement and essentially stuck within enemy lines.
In another area, a tank disappeared in a barrage of smoke from the nearby mortars, which also had the added effect of reducing visibility to nil. The pilots struggled to free their machines from the fumes only to wish that they hadn't for staring them down were the main guns of nearly five Darwins. They surrendered quickly after that.
All throughout the city, similar events occurred concurrently, grinding away at their numbers with each moment. It was when the enemy was down to the last 50 frames, most of these liberated from their sand panels, that they began to consolidate their strength. There was only one spot in the city that could fit them all – the city center. Fifty Knightmares was no force to laugh at, considering their adversaries had but four so far. The city could still be taken if they had managed to organize.
Keyword here being "if."
They never got out of the city center again.
"This is Overseer to Pet Control. The Mutt is in the Doghouse. Lock the gate for us."
Another chain of explosives went off at the base of the nearby buildings. Like clockwork, each fell into place, designed to fall so that they would seal the Bamides in with no way out. The engineers had done a damn good job making sure everything would go according to plan for the final phase of the operation.
"This is Prince Lelouch vi Britannia to all NAL troops. You are surrounded by my men and are in range of my artillery and mortars. I hear they're in need of some target practice soon. Anyone who surrenders will be treated with leniency. On my honor as a Prince of Britannia, I swear. The choice is now yours." The loudspeakers blared, making sure to convey the message completely.
An ignoble death or a comfortable life; it wasn't a hard choice to make. Within minutes, the KMF pilots exited from their Bamides. Within the hour, the NAL commander officially handed his unconditional surrender to Prince vi Britannia. Within the day, Altair's Regiment arrived to transport the prisoners and readied them for sorting.
And in one swift stroke, the largest threat to Algiers was neutralized.
October 24, (Z Day + 24)
"Think fast."
Lelouch was brought out of his thoughts as a small black box hurtled towards him. Without thinking, he tried – and failed – to catch it as the small box grazed the tip of his fingers before bouncing off his cheek and cluttering to the floor. He gave his CO a dark look as he leaned down to retrieve it.
Ryze merely grinned at him. "High Command was impressed by your actions at Chlef. They've sent you a little gift."
His curiosity now raised, Lelouch lifted the lid, revealing a single bath star gleaming in the dim light. With wide eyes, he reached out to caress it, as if trying to confirm if it was actually there.
The colonel seemed to sense his feelings. "It's real alright. I checked it myself." He informed him.
"I've been bumped up three ranks." muttered the boy in a daze.
"You've more than earned it, Major vi Britannia."
"Th-thank you, sir." stuttered Lelouch, shifting his weight between his feet, still uncomfortable with his CO's sudden 180 in attitude regarding himself.
"Welcome to Regimental Command. By the way, Sir Gottwald asked me to pass along a message to you." He stroked his chin in muse, trying to remember. "Something about a call from Area 11? Does that ring a bell?"
Lelouch frowned and shook his head. "Not particularly, sir. I'll find out soon enough though. Permission to leave, sir?" He asked with a crisp salute.
"Granted."
October 28 (Z Day + 28)
Tunisia-Libya Border,
Lelouch blinked.
He rubbed his bleary eyes. Then he blinked.
Still no change…damn it.
He lowered his binoculars and handed it to Wood wordlessly, pointing to the flag in the distance. "What do you see?"
Wood raised it to his eyes to take a look. "That's a flag, sir." He stated matter-of-factly. "Is…is that…no fucking way. What are they doing here?"
"Command hasn't mentioned anything about this." Jeremiah, who stood behind him, scowled. "This changes things. If they're involved now, it means we'll be facing far more dangerous enemies than just mere rebels."
"Orders sir?" Wood asked, looking to Lelouch for instructions.
"Fortify our camp and have the men made aware of our situation. Jeremiah, take the Zero Squad and cover our scouts. We need to better intel on what we're up against."
"Yes sir!"
Goddamn Europeans.
Odysseus eu Britannia, the First Prince, Heir Apparent and Lord High Steward of the Holy Britannian Empire, rubbed the bridge of his nose to relax himself as his head throbbed from the giant migraine he was getting.
Suffice to say, things were not good.
Seated around the oval conference table were several notable individuals and key figures of the Empire. Marshals, Admirals, Generals, Viceroys, Princes, Princesses and the highest echelons of the Administration gathered before him to discuss the latest developments in the Empire.
Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't completely oblivious of his shaky status. He was the Mediocre Prince, not the Clueless Prince.
Excluding the Emperor, he was technically the highest ranking individual in the Empire; the final word on any and all affairs. That was an illusion only for the masses.
Anyone who was anyone knew the real power lied with the Lord High Chancellor and Prime Minister, Schneizel el Britannia.
He had made peace with this fact a long time ago. Simply put, he was but a speck in comparison to his genius of a brother. Odysseus was outclassed in every sense of the word. Still, when shit hit the fan, it was still he who was expected to step up. All of the blame and none of the praise, such was the inequality of life.
In many ways, being the firstborn was a curse. If you did something right, it was "expected." If you screwed up, you were condemned. While it wouldn't be fair to say that his other siblings felt none of the pressure to succeed, they certainly didn't feel it in the same degree.
"Cornelia," he started, informally addressing his sibling soldier attending via satellite connection, "could you tell us what happened?"
"EU forces launched a surprise attack. That's what!" She screeched, seething furiously.
"Please, sister, remain calm." Odysseus placated, calmly resting his head on his bridged fingers.
"Calm?" The Field Marshal repeated. "You want me to remain calm?! The barbarians are at the gates and you want me to be calm!"
Carline, ever the advocate for violence, slammed her palms into the table in a grab for attention. "I agree with sister. We should bomb them to oblivion!"
In direct contrast to her was William, the 4th Prince. "Unwarranted aggression will hardly make things better. We've already got the Chinese Federation eyeing Area 11. We can't afford a war with the EU right now."
Robert, his junior by a few minutes, decided to make his own thoughts known. "Our army is the strongest in the world. It doesn't matter who aligns against us, we'll emerge victorious in the end."
"Don't let overconfidence dull your mind." chided Clovis. "We may be the strongest, but that doesn't make us invincible."
Orion rui Britannia sneered disdainfully. "Methinks being in such close proximity to the Chinese has made a coward of our brother."
"Tch, hardly." scoffed Clovis, brushing aside the insult. "Besides, you can do better than Ad Hominems, Orion."
"Besides," Altair leaned forward, smirking jeeringly, "your recent service record hardly speaks well for you. Your men haven't even seen the new frames, much less fought them."
Orion scowled and opened his mouth to unleash, what one could presume, was a scathing retort. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you asked, someone put a stop to it.
"Speaking of which," Schneizel interrupted before the discussion could be derailed any further, "Lelouch, have you any intel on Europe's latest war machines?"
Lelouch punched in a few keys and his screen changed to a Knightmare with claws for arms and cannons for palms. "This model is the Gardemare, France's answer to the Gloucester. As you can see from the design, it's made for close combat. They're extremely fast and agile for a 5th gen frame. We suspect they're using a modified version of the MEF's sand panels. They've made these things far faster than anything we've encountered before."
"Any weaknesses?"
Lelouch gave them a somber shake of his head. "Unfortunately, few that we can see. I've sent a couple to the labs for reverse engineering. Hopefully, the techs will have better news for us. It can take just as good as it gives too. Nothing short of heavy artillery can dent its armor."
"Next up we have the Panzer-Hummel A2, the Armored Bumblebee. It's pretty much a jacked up Bamide on speed. Our Sutherlands can't match them from afar and are hard pressed to get near. In the hands of a mediocre commander, maybe we could beat back the EU offensive. It's just our luck that Erwin Rommel, of all people, was put in charge."
"It gets worse." Cornelia added. "Russian troops have begun streaming in from the Caucasus and the Dardanelles. They've completely smashed my army's rear. We suspect that Georgy Zhukov is in command."
The room descended into a contemplative atmosphere as they let the information simmer in their heads. Faced with two of the EU's finest generals and weapons that far outstripped their own, their chances for victory fizzled.
Schneizel was the first to break the glum mood. "Surrender at this point would be out of the question. If we back down now, it would set a precedent that we do not want." He reasoned soundly. "It is also clear that a prolonged war would doom us to an even worse fate, unconditional surrender."
The mere mention of the words was distasteful to everyone in the room. Surrender…it was an unthinkable outcome. Britannia had not given up after 2 centuries of bloody battles and escalating mortality.
"We must strike a decisive victory quickly then." Odysseus said, catching on to his brother's thoughts. "Scare them into thinking we can still win, and negotiate a peace on our terms."
"Intuitive as always, Odysseus." Schneizel smiled patronizingly with a tinge of amusement.
"I learned from the best." Odysseus replied, masking his bitter smile behind a pleased grin.
"It was just a few minutes past 10 when the Argyls, strange looking contraptions, rolled into the city. They elicited none of the awe of the polished Sutherlands and the majestic Gloucesters, but looked rather grim in comparison. No offense intended, but these things clearly weren't built to show off.
In any case, they still packed quite a punch. Sarge looked ready to hug the thing the first time we saw it fire. It completely outranged those Goddamn Bamides. Its rounds, trifle round things the size of a marble, tore cleanly through the frame, dismantling it after a few shots. The Bamides had been harassing us day and night ever since we took the city, and we had nothing to fight them with. The mortars didn't have the range, and the Darwins couldn't get a kill shot.
It caused quite a buzz and the lads were still talking 'bout them during supper. Sarge Wolfe of 1st Company jokingly called them the 'Zero Squad' because of their IDs. A Zero-One, A Zero-Two and so on. It was a good name, and it caught on fast. By the time the sun was up, the entire camp was calling it that. The Black Prince liked the idea as well, and decided to officiate the name soon after.
His reason on paper was that 'it was an appropriate designation for the Special Unit, since any of the counting numbers would surely be taken by the regular squads. Being separate from the regulars, they were, therefore, the 0th Squad.'
Really, he was just being a good sport. That's what I love 'bout the guy. He's the people's Prince through and through, not like those snobs up in Pendragon. Anyway…
Ironic thing about the Zero Squad is that it was never really a squad. At least, not according to the brass's definition. Back when they were starting as a volunteer test unit, there were only four of 'em. Later on when the Prince turned the unit into his personal guard, their ranks fluctuated between two and eight, but never landed on six. It was sorta an inside joke in our regiment."
-excerpt from: Memoirs of the Black Knights – The Zero Squad
AN: On the title: "Control the Center, Control the Game" is a typical chess saying teachers use to express the importance of maintain influence over the four central spots on the board. In the story, one could connote this to mean control over C.C. (Area 11 subplot) and control over Algiers (main plot).
Right…so Lelouch lives! I doubt anyone's surprised ^^
What are your thoughts on the Chapter? Have I done Mao some justice? I know he's an insane sort, but he struck me as a mad-genius type.
How about the battle scenes? How do you prefer them written? Similar to the previous chapters where we have Lelouch relaying instructions…or like looking at things from a bird's eye view? Without explanations of the final plan? With? Leave your thoughts on the box below.