I don't own Code Geass

...

Tokyo Settlement, Area 11, 2017

"Hurry with the paint, the procession begins in thirty minutes." Kallen glared up at the masked man, rubbing the sweat from her brow as she laid down the paint brush.

Irate, she stood and shouted, "It'd be going a lot faster if you got off your ass and helped!" She felt even more incensed when the man only chuckled.

"It is the privilege of the leader to stand back and allow others to do the somewhat more tedious work of igniting a revolution. Now back to it, time is wasting."

"You know, we haven't exactly accepted you as our leader yet," Kallen said even as she picked the brush back up and finished painting the door.

"You seemed perfectly fine with my role when I was pulling you from the fire in Shinjuku." He had her there, Kallen had to admit. They had been on the losing end, desperate, and had turned to the first voice that offered victory.

Kallen glanced back up at the strange man, known only to them as "Zero", and wondered again why she was there. It had only been two days ago that the man that they knew only as "The Voice" had contacted them, telling them to meet with him at Tokyo Tower, revealing himself and his goal: the rescue of Suzaku Kururugi, the man declared to have been Viceroy Clovis' assassin, an action Zero had claimed as his own. Needless to say they hadn't believed him, at least until he showed them his proof. Then they had believed him.

Somewhat too well, Kallen thought. Barring herself and Ohgi, the others had opted out of their little escapade, explaining that the heat would be far too great and that they should abandon it too. But Kallen could not stand the idea of an innocent man being killed for something they had been responsible for, especially a fellow child of Japan. And, even more than that, there was something about this Zero, something magnetic, something that made her believe that he could in fact pull off this impossible rescue. After all, he had done the impossible before.

Of course, since Kallen was going along, Ohgi had to as well. There had simply been no way he was going to allow her to go off on her own with some strange man, and so he had been there, setting up the pyrotechnics that would burn away the Britannian flag and reveal its masked passenger before the entire world, as well as fine tuning the engine and refueling it in order to ensure that the blasted thing would actually make it to the convoy.

Kallen stood, finally finished, and grabbed the white chauffer clothing and hat that Zero had provided to her as a disguise, and looked to the finished car, whistling as she did so. Though the inside of the car looked like crap, the exterior was an almost perfect recreation of Viceroy Clovis' escort car, barring the large trailer on the back that hid the poison gas canister that was their trump card. Kallen had been outraged when she'd first seen it, as she and her group had been preparing to destroy the contents not use them, but Zero had assured her and Ohgi that the contents had been removed and all that would blow out of it was harmless colored smoke.

"The murder of innocents is not an activity I try to pursue," he had said, assuaging her anger and reassuring her that she had chosen correctly.

She took one last look at the masked man and, despite the cape that covered his torso, noticed something odd. Is he wearing different clothes?

….…

Diethard Reid sighed in boredom, watching the procession with half-glazed eyes, barely paying attention to the steady stream of reports that the idiots that manned the various monitors gave him. The execution of a regicide should have provided material far more exciting than what he was having to work with, but in truth everything involved in the proceedings was standard Imperial fare: the huge crowds demanding that the condemned suffer, the stuffy officers in all of their dress and pomp stomping down the streets in a self-important march, and the cries of the man at the center who proclaimed his innocence. Granted, the trial had not yet occurred and it was still possible that an acquittal could be the result of tonight's events, but that was an outcome Diethard had no confidence in. The judge was clearly sympathetic, if not outright supportive, of the Purists, whose members were the main actors in this evening's farce, and even if he wasn't, public outrage was such that he'd probably execute the boy anyway just to stave off the threat of riots. It was a tragic situation all around, and if Diethard were anything other than a Britannian, he could probably turn this into inspiration for a work that could rival Shakespeare's.

Diethard was not nearly stupid enough to believe the drivel that this boy was Clovis' killer, not even with the press release given by Kewell Soresi, the man in charge of the investigation, that specified the young man's motive and qualifications. It was clearly a very naked attempt for the Purist Faction to solidify its dominance of the Area's politics and military structure in a move that was equal parts brutal and foolish: the finding of the assassin had been too quick and his background fit far too conveniently. Anyone with a feeble understanding of politics would understand what they were doing and take steps accordingly to circumvent them, probably even try to find the real killer and humiliate them at the earliest opportunity. Exposure would likely mean the destruction of the Purist Faction and anyone who was moronic enough to ally themselves with them. Whether or not Kururugi was executed tonight was irrelevant to the long-term game the various political players were taking part in; he was simply another pawn that was about to be removed.

"Um, sir, something's happening. The convoy's stopped." Diethard was pulled out of his musing by one of the techs, he forgot the man's name, and he leaned down to have a look. Just as the man had said the procession had ceased moving, the soldiers seemingly confused, awaiting their commander's orders.

What's going on out there, Diethard wondering, his mind piquing with interest. Are they just trying to let the mob get their fill, or is it something else?

"Quit bs-ing me, man." Diethard turned his attention to another one of the techs, who held his head-set in disbelief.

"What do you have for me?" Diethard asked, sidling in alongside him. The tech shook his head.

"Sir, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Diethard looked at him hard. "Try me."

"Well, sir, they're saying a car is approaching."

"What kind?" Diethard asked impatiently.

"Well, they're saying it's Prince Clovis'."

What?

….

He stood in the shadows, the darkness wrapping itself around him, comforting, cradling him as one of its own, fingers clenched tightly around his prize. He could feel the platform beneath him begin to slow down and readjusted himself appropriately to prevent himself from falling down. So this was it, then. The time had come for him to make his appearance on the world stage once more.

He could hear it outside, the murmur of the audience that had come to bear witness to this. They would be the first to see the opening act in the performance of a lifetime, mankind's last great tragedy, an opera that would make the old Norse masters weep with envy. And he would be its main actor, its protagonist, its director and writer, determining its end as he saw fit. Yes, this was his life, his path, a road of blood and heartache etched into his very soul. The final preparations were ready and he made ready to unfurl his wings and fly.

The veil that enshrouded his lair burned away in a flash, and finally he stood before them, grabbing their attention. He spoke.

"I,"

A declaration of intent, a light in the darkness, an avenging hero,

"AM,"

Savior, Conqueror, Angel, Demon, Alpha, Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End,

"ZERO!"

….

Kewell Soresi narrowed his eyes at the masked fool who stood before him. Zero, huh? His eyes roamed all over the idiot, taking in first the black mask that shrouded his face, then the form-fitting cape that conformed to his body's shape and covered the rest of him. It takes all kinds doesn't it?

"Well, Zero, I think we've all seen enough of this charade." With that he raised his pistol and fired a single shot into the air. Four Sutherlands immediately dropped down around the look-alike car, rifles at the ready. "Now," Kewell added, smirking, "why don't you take off that silly mask and show us your face?"

Zero's hand sidled up his body, hovered before his mask, then thrust up into the air, fingers snapping once they reached their zenith. The trailer crumbled behind him in response, revealing an object that looked just like-

NO! Kewell screamed mentally, his eyes bulging as he realized what it was. The poison gas canister!

"Kewell, stop, that's the gas from Shinjuku!" I know that Viletta, shut the Hell up! Kewell wanted to scream but didn't. He had to make sure they didn't panic the crowd. Any bad moves now could mean the end of everyone here.

"I think you know what this is," Zero called out mockingly, "One false move, and it goes."

How dare you! You've taken every single person here hostage and they don't even know it! In a panic, Kewell raised his sidearm, intending to shoot the maniac dead, when his own hand dipped into his coat, pulling out what looked like a detonator, and flipping a switch.

"This is a dead man trigger," the lunatic informed him, "and it has been activated. Kill me now, and the contents of this device will explode over this entire crowd."

Kewell grit his teeth in frustration, lowering his gun back into its holster and glaring at Zero. Have to stall for time. Maybe we can get a signal jammer off, make that thing useless. He hoped that the others were already thinking of this. Out loud he said, "Fine, you've made your point. What are your demands?"

Zero gestured to their prisoner. "A simple exchange: this for Kururugi."

Kewell barked in sudden laughter. "Be reasonable now, Zero. This man is accused of high treason, for the murder of Prince Clovis, our beloved Viceroy-"

"That man did not kill Clovis," Zero interrupted. "He is merely the scapegoat that you have used because the killer still eludes you. I tell you this now: your assassin is no longer running," Zero paused dramatically. "He stands before you."

Kewell gaped at him. "You-You mean-"

"Yes. The man who killed Prince Clovis," here he turned to a camera man who had gotten far closer than should have been allowed, "was ME."

Kewell felt his stomach bottom out, his heart begin to race faster than ever, and his vision narrow on this psychopath. We're finished. The thought roared through his mind but he quickly stamped it down, utter hatred seeping through him at the damage this man was doing. I will not allow this humiliation! "While I do not doubt your audacity I find that a little hard to believe."

The masked man lifted his other arm, which so far had remained hidden behind his back, and the sight chilled Kewell's blood. Hanging from Zero's hand was Prince Clovis' head.

"If you do not believe me," the assassin called out mockingly," why not ask Prince Clovis himself?"

….

Diethard could not help the grin that covered his face as Zero held up the dead Viceroy's head. He held the camera he had appropriated for this up close viewing in shaking hands, giddy joy bursting through his body. At first he had cursed the amateur camera man who had forced him to come out here on his own and get this footage, but now he wanted to find the man and kiss him, with a promotion on the side. This was absolutely brilliant material and he was loving every second of it.

This is just one big performance to him, he realized in awe as the masked man tossed Clovis' head over to the guards with an air of nonchalance. He's the host and we are but the patrons in his theater.

"For a single life," Zero said, "you will save scores of Britannians. I find that to be quite the bargain."

"DAMN YOU!" Diethard swiveled around, bringing the camera to bear on Soresi, who looked to be beyond reason at this point. The gun that had been in his holster appeared once again in his hand. "You will die for your impertinence!"

"Careful, now," Diethard turned again, "If you kill me here, then every Britannian here will follow me in death, and that would provide the Purists nothing but humiliation and ruin. If you truly care about your comrades, you will release Kururugi and do everything you can to help us escape." Those last words were spoken in a commanding tone and Diethard brought the camera back to Kewell, anxious to see his reaction.

To his surprise, the Purist seemed to have calmed down considerably, and he now seemed to be gazing at Zero with something akin to tolerance. Diethard almost dropped the camera in shock at the next words. "Release the prisoner, now."

….

"Kewell, what the Hell are you doing!" Viletta Nu shouted as the guards began to release Kururugi, un-cuffing him even as Zero approached them.

"Don't interfere, Viletta!" Kewell shouted, snarling at her. "I am doing what is necessary for the Purist Faction. Stay out of this."

Viletta couldn't believe what she was hearing. Kewell was behaving completely irrationally. Has the situation gone completely over his head? She wondered. Has he gone insane?

She watched in horror as the guards were forced to release their prisoner into the hands of their Viceroy's murderer, anger spiking after the guards flinched when Zero accused them of not letting him speak. A woman in white, the one who had been driving the car, stepped up to him.

"Zero," she said, "it's time."

"Indeed," Zero said in response, "time for us to go." Viletta screamed in terror as he pulled up the remote in his hand and let go of the dead-man switch before sprinting to the edge of the highway.

He never intended to return the gas, she realized as purple smoke spewed out. He's slaughtering thousands!

"Damn you Zero!" she screamed, bringing her hands back down to the Sutherland controls, closing up the cockpit and rushing towards them, rage and grief swelling in her heart. Something smacked into her Knightmare, slamming her against the computers and she looked up in shock.

Kewell Soresi was blocking her advance, the hand of his Sutherland pressing her against the railing. "What the Hell do you think you're doing Viletta!" He screamed over the comm channel.

"What you should be doing! He's murdered thousands of innocent people!" She struggled to break free but stopped at Kewell's next words.

"That doesn't matter! That man has to get away or the Purists will be humiliated!"

Viletta stared at her view-screen in astonishment, then turned to her cameras, watching as people screamed and ran pell mell as far away as they could. So far, however, she could see no bodies. Colored smoke, she thought. She snarled into her comm link. "And we aren't being humiliated now?"

"I told you to stop!" She looked up when she realized that he hadn't been talking to her and checked her right side camera. One of the other Sutherlands had opened fire on the fleeing terrorists, holding its rifle in both hands and firing on full automatic. Kewell's voice came down to her, "If you won't follow my orders-" He stopped talking and, to Viletta's shock, opened fire on their fellow Purist. High caliber bullets punctured the arms and torso before hammering away at the cockpit, and Viletta had to fight not to throw up when the Knightmare exploded before the pilot could eject.

"See what happens when you-" Viletta was tired of listening to this maniac. In a fit of rage she threw off Kewell's weakened grip, grabbing the stun tonfas equipped to her Frame, and smashed in the factsphere, pivoting around with one in each hand to simultaneously shatter the hand holding the rifle. She sent a sweeping kick to the legs of the opposing Sutherland, and then stabbed into them with the tonfas. She grabbed up the fallen rifle and aimed it squarely at Kewell's Frame, checking her cameras as she did so. In all of the confusion, Zero and his accomplices had managed to escape.

She glared down in disgust at the image of Kewell's Knightmare. "Well, you've succeeded, you bastard. They managed to escape." There was nothing but silence on the other end. Her mouth twisted in rage. "Well, traitor, have you nothing to say?"

For a moment there was naught but silence. Then, finally, when Kewell's voice did come, it said, "Viletta? What's going on? What happened?"

Viletta stared at her communications rig in disbelief. It was quickly replaced by fury. "I couldn't even begin to tell you Kewell. What I can say is this: you're under arrest for aiding and abetting the escape of an accused regicide and the terrorists who freed him. In addition to this, you are charged with high treason for the killing of a fellow soldier without due process by the law. Have I made myself clear?"

"What are you talking about Viletta? I have done no such thing. Where's Zero?" Kewell's voice was filled with anger, and more than a trace amount of fear. "Release me, now."

Viletta glared down at the Knightmare's image in hatred. "Save it, traitor," she said venomously. "I don't take orders from the likes of you." She cut off the comm link before he could respond, opening up a new one to the Viceroy's mansion, and informing them of their imminent return.

…

Zero stood atop the rubble of the building they had escaped to, staring calmly at Suzaku Kururugi. A number of emotions swelled up within him: anger, envy, disgust, but above all, he was filled with love. Suzaku Kururugi had been more than just his best friend: he had been a brother to him. No, closer than brothers, for there wasn't a single brother that Zero had that he didn't hate. And yet, for so long, they had been enemies, constantly hurting one another, taking and taking, not realizing their folly until it was too late, and then stabbing each other cruelly because it was what they had wanted.

Suzaku's transformation into the monster he had become was Zero's fault, the pain of losing a soul mate as equal as the hatred of the former friend that had taken her from him. Suzaku's dark and twisted path had begun when Euphemia had died, and been completed with the bombing of Tokyo during the Second Black Rebellion, the knowledge that he had killed millions finally breaking whatever tenuous grip on reality he still had. They, Zero and Suzaku, had both been destroyed that day, finally pushed past whatever moral and ethical boundaries they had set up for themselves and beginning the path of mass murderers. In the end, they had deserved their fates.

But this was not that world, and these two were not those people. The man Zero was now dealing with was not the jaded, world-weary, suicidal monster that he had convinced to take up his mask. This was a young man untouched by the tragedy of lost love, naïve to the way of the world and unwilling to change himself to become what he needed to be. In short, he had to be careful here of what he said if he was to win Suzaku to his side in the future. That was the only certainty here: this would be a long-term seduction that would pit all of Zero's wits and wills against his worst opponent.

Zero chucked inwardly. Let the best man win.

…

Suzaku Kururugi stared up at the man responsible for his kidnapping, for he really had no other word for it, trying to gauge him, the mask that hid his face and the cape that shrouded his body making it difficult to read him. He wasn't scared: "Zero", as he called himself, had gone through a lot of time and effort to meet personally with him; he wasn't going to kill him now. He was brought out of his musing when Zero spoke.

"It seems they treated you quite poorly," the masked vigilante observed calmly. "How badly did they hurt you?"

Suzaku shrugged. "Not too much, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse."

"I take it you've had worse?" Zero's asked, his voice laced with sadness. He added, "It's a tragedy that Britannia would treat one of their loyal soldiers like this."

"I'd like to point out that I was under suspicion of high treason," Suzaku joked, "They're not exactly supposed to be nice to regicides."

"Such treatment would not have happened to a Britannian man were he in your position. A Britannian would not have been subject to the torture you clearly endured, nor the show trial that was awaiting you at the end of your path. Especially not a man in a position equivalent to your own."

"What," Suzaku asked sarcastically, "the position of a foot soldier?"

Zero shook his head. "No, the position of a nobleman."

Suzaku frowned. "I'm not exactly a noble, you know."

"Not in the literal sense, no," Zero acknowledged, "But you are the son of Japan's last Prime Minister. Such an equivalent rank would take precedence."

"I'm not worried about it."

"You forgive far too quickly, Kururugi."

Suzaku shook his head. "Hatred, anger, it's exhausting, tiresome. Sure, you feel empowered at first, but when the object of your aggression is no longer around, you're left with nothing but disappointment and regret. I'd rather not live my life like that."

Zero nodded, and Suzaku got the impression that he was smiling behind his mask. "You have the wisdom of the sages, or perhaps that of a man who has had his share of sadness."

Suzaku suppressed the urge to flinch at the man's knowing tone. He turned away and asked, "So why did you kidnap me anyway?"

"I prefer the term "Rescue" myself," Zero said, his voice slightly miffed. "I rescued you because you are an innocent man who was about to be sent to death for an action that I committed."

Suzaku tilted his eyebrow in confusion. "But why should you care?" he asked, "If they had in fact convicted and killed me, that would probably take the heat off of you."

"True," Zero conceded, "but the end result would be the same: and innocent man would be dead, and blamed for my actions. I am a servant of Justice, not some coward who hides in the shadows."

"A 'servant of Justice?'" Suzaku asked skeptically, "You killed Prince Clovis at Shinjuku and cut off his head. I wouldn't exactly call that 'Justice.'"

"Clovis was the enemy commander and my opponent. Why wouldn't I kill him?"

Suzaku's eyes widened in understanding. "Then it was you who commanded the terrorists at Shinjuku?"

"Yes."

Suzaku gritted his teeth in anger. "Then it was you who pushed the Viceroy to the limit. It was you who was responsible for the cleansing of the Ghetto."

Zero laughed, high and cold and sending chills down Suzaku's spine. "That's an interesting way of looking at it, but entirely incorrect. I was not in command until the last ten minutes of the battle. Prince Clovis ordered the Ghetto's destruction before I made my appearance, not after." Zero tilted his head. "In fact, had Clovis not ordered the slaughter, I likely would not have intervened, but the murder of innocent people forced my hand."

Suzaku was incredulous. "What do you mean by that?"

Zero shrugged. "Up to that point, it had been, if not a fair battle, at least one in which all parties knew one another and killing was kept contained to the soldiers. When the Viceroy began to murder unarmed men, women, and children, I had to assist the rebels who were trying to protect them. My conscience cannot dictate otherwise."

"And the gas on the highway just now? How does that fit into the whole 'servant of Justice' shtick?"

"Colored smoke, nothing more. The end result is the same as Shinjuku's: the primary goal completed with minimal casualties both for my men and civilians."

"I see," Suzaku said, mildly disgusted, "So that's all that matters to you isn't it? The 'end result'."

Zero's response was testy: "My methods brought about the best possible result."

"Results that are achieved through dishonorable actions have no meaning Zero. The ends never justify the means."

"You have a very childish and naïve view of war, Kururugi, and one that will likely get you killed," Zero said condescendingly. "Success in war, in anything really, is based in the art of deception, in being able to trick my foe into attacking when he should have defended, reinforce this flank instead of advancing that flank, retreating when he should have attacked. What would you have my men do? Line up in parade rows and march forward in nice orderly lines so that the machine guns might mow us down? Let the enemy run from their breastworks when I should have chased them down?"

"How about holding innocent people hostage for the sake of one man? How about using colored smoke as a distraction that ends up making people trample each other in a panic, or forcing security personnel to fire into crowds?" Suzaku returned heatedly. "All of you terrorists are the same: you don't care who you hurt so long as someone is. You fight a war you have no hope of winning and kill anyone that doesn't conform to your worldview. People like you make me sick."

He had angered the man, Suzaku knew that, and he waited for the bullet that would surely strike him dead. There was a tense moment of silence before Zero spoke again.

"It seems we are at something of an impasse," he said, crossing his arms. "Despite our disagreements, I would like to offer you a position within my Order. We could use a man of your honor and talents."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Suzaku said, somewhat relieved that the man wasn't going to kill him. He turned around and began walking away.

"Where are you going?" Zero asked.

"To my court martial," Suzaku said, not stopping, "I'm already late."

"Kururugi, let me offer a word of warning." Suzaku stopped, listening. "The day will come when you will be forced to make a choice between the ideals you hold to so strongly or the innocent people that they will doom. I only hope that when that day comes, you will not regret your choice."

Suzaku squared his shoulders. "Thank you, Zero, for your honesty if nothing else."

"Farewell, Suzaku Kururugi. Until we meet again," Zero replied.

Suzaku nodded imperceptibly, then walked off into the first rays of dawn.