I don't own Code Geass.

….

Tsuyama, Okayama Prefecture, United States of Japan, December 2017

I may have been a little too pessimistic, Zero thought. I should shorten my timeline.

Zero had expected hard fighting throughout the western frontier. Dug-in trenches, forest holes, house-to-house, room-by-room, and ruthless guerrilla tactics were what he had been expecting. It was why he was willing to take personal command over the operation. What he hadn't anticipated, what he could not have hoped for, was a relatively smooth mop-up.

The groups they were finding, some by the dozens, others by the hundreds, were demoralized, freezing, and starving. Their weapons were busted, their ammunition was spent, they had no fuel with which to power their cars, tanks, or Knightmare Frames. Fighting had been sporadic, small firefights erupting from die hard holdouts, quickly extinguished by a few anti-personnel rounds from a Burai.

"How many this time?" he asked Kallen.

"Should make fifty, if P-1's counting them right," Kallen said. "Looks like they're predominately Chinese."

"Makes sense. The Chinese troops don't have a dog in this fight." Most of the fanatical fighters they'd faced had been Japanese.

"We're going to need somewhere to put these guys," Kallen said. "We're taking way more prisoners than we thought we would."

"If we had the materials on hand, I'd say make a POW camp right out here," Zero said. He rubbed his hand over his chin.

This was a problem. He couldn't just leave them behind to run amok in the rear. With no way of building some kind of internment camp, they'd be left to their own devices. He wasn't going to leave behind troops to garrison them. If the local garrisons had been enough, he wouldn't be here.

He scanned the faces of the hungry, skinny, defeated looking soldiers. They're not a threat at the moment, but that could change the second they get some decent equipment.

"I'd have preferred they fought," Zero said. "That would have at least thinned the herd, made them easier to manage."

"That's a little dark," Kallen said.

"It's true. Their surrender is more liability than asset. I have no use for..."

He took a second look at the prisoners. Perhaps…

"We'll bring them with us," he said. "I may have found a use for them."

…..

Numata, Gunma Province, Democratic Republic of Japan

"We've moved two hundred Gun-Ru's and a hundred Burais to sectors eight through twelve," Asahina reported, indicating the area on the map. "We've put them a mile behind the lines. Close enough for rapid assault, far enough that they shouldn't see it in the fog. We should also have two army groups put in place before the end of tomorrow."

An army group, for their purposes, was about ten to eleven thousand strong. These two armies were going to be the primary hammer they would use to break through the Black Knights' defenses.

"Very good," Tohdoh said.

He, Asahina, and Urabe stood around the table. Chiba rested upstairs, Tohdoh having discovered her puking into a trash can when he woke up. In her place were a number of junior officers who were helping to map out the offensive, calculate supplies, and manage the movement of equipment.

He examined the map, marking off several locations south of the Tone River. These locations were where his agents had reported the presence of Sakuradite depots and ammunition dumps. He didn't have anyone within the palace, Zero was too quick for that, but having men in the lower echelons was just as important, and they were paying dividends.

Tohdoh drew a few lines along the route where the depots were at, carefully diagramming out their route of attack. So long as they had these depots under control, they should be able to hold the territory they would be grabbing long enough to force Zero to a confrontation.

Tohdoh stood up straight, tapping the marker against the palm of his hand. "I want a distraction of some kind," he said. "Something to keep Zero's attention away from the front as long as possible. Suggestions?"

"A few raids along the western flank?" Asahina proffered. "They might shift troops over that way as well, weakening their defenses along our line of attack."

"Or they'll just strenghten the entire line," Urabe countered. "We don't have exact numbers on Zero's troops. We shouldn't assume they can't hold the entire line." Asahina conceded with a nod. "We could attempt to instigate a revolt," Urabe suggested. "They did just have a riot. If we got them some weapons, we could force Zero to take troops off the lines to suppress it."

"But there's no way of knowing where those troops would be coming from," Asahina said. "They could come from somewhere in the south or the west. He did send out that Britannian officer, after all. They could be immediately recalled to put down a revolt."

"I'm sure that Spacer guy would love that," Urabe grumbled. Asahina sneered with distaste.

Tohdoh shook his head. "Our thinking is two-dimensional," he said. "Zero has never been conventional. The question we have to ask is: 'What would Zero do?'"

Neither man responded for a moment.

Asahina put a hand to his chin. "What about..."

Tohdoh raised an eyebrow. "What about what?" he asked.

Asahina pointed to two separate locations within Tokyo. "There are two plants in this section," he said. "They power the palace and the surrounding area. What if we hit both locations thirty minutes before the attack?"

"We might be able to slow their response time if we do that," Urabe said. "It would take out the phone lines, certainly. If we could funnel the civilians into the streets, than that's all the better."

"The palace is probably on a separate generator," Tohdoh said, tamping down their enthusiasm. "But, whatever we can do to delay them needs to be done. How long can we fire our artillery?"

Asahina turned to one of the junior officer, a dark haired boy of around nineteen. "Given current munition stockpiles, the bombardment should last ninety minutes," he said.

Tohdoh nodded. "It should be enough," he said. He turned to another of the officers. "Get the word out to our agents in the city. Store up the necessary armaments to strike the power plants. Also," he pointed to the supply depots, "tell them to get troops in place to take the Sakuradite depots. I don't want Zero destroying them once we begin the offensive. The command phrase for the attack will be 'Tiger.' Is that understood?"

The officer saluted. "Yes, General!"

"Good." Tohdoh picked up a cup of coffee and took a long gulp.

He blinked several times, trying to drive the need for sleep from his body.

I need a break.

"I'll return shortly," he announced. "I'm going to see how Colonel Chiba is faring. Carry on."

They saluted as he stepped out. He walked down the hall stiffly, climbing the steps two at a time. He knocked on the door to the room they shared.

"It's Tohdoh," he said. "I'm coming in."

Chiba sat up on the cot, her back against the wall, a document in her hand. She was wearing her uniform still, no other options being available. She set the paper down, but before she could stand, Tohdoh placed a hand on her shoulder.

"There's no need to get up," he assured her. "You're ill."

"I feel fine, General," she protested, but her skin was looking gray, and she herself looked tired. An empty soup bowl sat on the floor next to her bed. "Really, I-"

Her expression disfigured abruptly. Tohdoh grabbed the trash can next to the bed and thrust it to her. She snatched it from his hand and wretched into it, her body heaving as her lunch exploded from her mouth.

"'Fine', huh?" Tohdoh said.

She took a few big gasps. "That," she croaked ruefully, "was really ill-timed."

"To the contrary, I think it was rather on point," Tohdoh retorted.

He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "No fever," he said. "And no other signs of ill health, beyond the obvious."

"I'm fine, General," she said. "Just really pukish. And hungry. Really, really hungry."

"Given what you tossed back up, I'm not surprised. You could probably eat enough for two right now. What would you like?"

"Celery," she said. "Celery, with vanilla ice cream."

Tohdoh smirked slightly. We have neither. "What would you like to dip it in?" he asked, playing along.

"The ice cream is the dip," she answered.

He raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"Ice cream and celery." She shrugged. "It sounds like an interesting combination."

He shook his head bemusedly. "As...fascinating as such a mix would be," he said, "I'm afraid you'll have to stick with soup."

She looked put out by that. "Dammit," she grumbled, her eyes watery. "Damn this war. Damn this whole situation. Why can't it just go back to the way things used to be?"

"The way things used to be didn't work," Tohdoh said. "It's why we're here."

Chiba pointed a finger at him accusingly. "You are entirely too logical!" she declared. "And too stoic. Come on, Shiro, there must be a personality in there somewhere!"

Todoh blinked. Chiba sat back in her seat, utter mortification on her face. "S-Sorry, General, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," he cut her off. "You're sick. It's only natural."

He picked up the empty soup bowl off the floor. "I'll bring you back something to eat," he promised.

"If I can keep it down," she grumbled.

He patted her shoulder reassuringly, and left.

…...

Tsuyama, Okayama Province, United States of Japan

"From this moment forward, you are mine!" Lelouch shouted.

He stood atop his Burai, his black trench coat flapping in the wind. A veritable sea of red lights glowed in the eyes of their prisoners. As one, they snapped to attention.

"Yes, My Lord!"

Kallen shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Watching someone's will, their individuality, their very sense of self, overwritten by the magic powers of geass sickened her.

"From this day forth, you will march before our great army," Lelouch shouted. "You will be the shield that protects our knightly bosom. You will not run away. You will not shirk your duty. Your sacrifice will be remembered for ten thousand years!"

It's not a sacrifice if it's not their choice. Kallen hugged her body, trembling.

"Lay your head down and rest! Eat the food that is offered you! March when I say to march, and victory will be ours! That is all."

Lelouch put the Burai into a kneeling position, and hopped down. He gestured to Kallen, who fell in step behind him.

After a minute of silent walking, Lelouch said, "Go ahead and say it, Kallen."

"Say what?"

"I know you have something to say. Say it."

Kallen carefully schooled her features. "I don't have anything to say."

Lelouch spun around and grabbed her around the arm. She let him guide her to a secluded tent, kicking out the soldiers that were inside. He turned back to her, pulling down his scarf so she could see his face.

"Speak," he said.

Kallen stared at him coolly. "I don't know what you want me to-"

"How is what I'm doing any worse than killing them?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't-"

"It's just a tool," he said. "A very useful tool. One that has shortened this war by months."

"I didn't say any-"

"Would you prefer I killed them? Hmm? Instead of turning them into an asset, how about I just waste bullets executing them? Would that be better?"

"No, it wouldn't!" Kallen said forcefully. "I understand there's no easy answer here, Lelouch!"

"Then what is your problem?"

"There's a difference between putting a bullet in someone's head, and enslaving them!" Kallen said. She stepped in close to him. "We're fighting for freedom! For justice, for liberty! This geass makes mockery of that!"

"It has brought us to the cusp of victory!"

"But at what cost?" She leaned in so close she was breathing the mist that issued from his mouth. "It's easy, isn't it? So easy to solve all of our problems by just brainwashing them away."

"I am not just brainwashing our problems away!" Lelouch retorted. "I have only ever used it on our enemies!"

"And who exactly are our enemies?" Kallen said. "An enemy is defined as anyone or anything opposing you. Today it's the JLF, but what about tomorrow? There were those bread riots back in Tokyo that Ohgi reported on. Are they our enemies?"

"Of course they're not!"

"Really? They brought traffic and business to a halt in Toho. They prevented the factories from putting out ammunition. They blocked the streets so that Sakuradite couldn't make it to the trenches. They were actively preventing our success in this war." Kallen narrowed her eyes. "Aren't they our enemies?"

Lelouch looked away from her. "I will never use this power on my people," he said. "I promise you that."

"Promises don't mean a thing, Lelouch," Kallen said. "They're just words. They mean nothing."

"So what I say means nothing to you?" he asked her, his visible eye cold.

Kallen placed her hands on his chest. "What you say means everything to me," she said. "But a couple of months ago, you were reluctant to even countenance the idea of using your geass so freely. Now, you're doing it with abandon."

She bowed her head. "I know you have to do it," she whispered. "I'm not naive. Tohdoh, Katase, the Empire...they've all forced us into this." She raised her head to look him in the eye. "But, that doesn't mean this should become easy. It should not be the go-to solution. And I'm afraid that's what it will become."

"Kallen..." Her chest warmed as his hands clasped her waist. "I promise, it won't." His violet eye glimmered brightly.

She nodded slowly. "Okay," she said softly. "I trust you, Lelouch."

She looked down at his lips for a moment. They were so agonizingly close. She flushed red when she caught him doing the same. His grip on her tightened.

A blood curdling scream broke the two of them apart. Lelouch jerked his scarf back up, pistol already in hand, while Kallen pulled her own, staying in front of him as they rushed out of the tent.

A crowd was gathering not far away, near Lelouch's tent in fact, the screams sending shivers down Kallen's spine.

"Kazuto! Kazuto!" someone was shouting.

"That bitch! That crazy bitch!"

Lelouch and Kallen broke through the crowd. "What the Hell is going on?" Lelouch demanded over the sound of the screaming.

Kallen looked down at the ground. A young man, barely older than Kallen, with dark hair and eyes, was screaming incoherently in the snow, held down by a couple of Black Knights. Foam gathered at his mouth, his eyes were bloodshot, his body writhed in uncontrollable convulsions.

Above him, glaring at Lelouch imperiously, was C-Two. Her hands were bound before her, likely to allow her to eat, and she wore a Black Knight uniform.

"You have now seen what I can do," she declared, her amber eyes glittering dangerously. "No matter who you place before me, I will destroy them. One by one, I will destroy your army, monsieur, if you do not let me leave."

"Psycho bitch!"

"Maniac!"

"What the Hell is this bitch's problem!"

Kallen turned to Lelouch. "What do we do, Colonel?" she asked him frantically. "How the Hell are we supposed to keep her restrained?"

Lelouch didn't so much as glance at her. "Goddammit, I don't- dammit!" He lifted his pistol, pointed it at C-Two's head, and fired.

Kallen jumped at the sound of the gunshot. C-Two's brains sprayed all over the tent behind her, her head jerking back. Without another word, she crumpled to the ground.

Kallen gaped. "Lel-Col-What?"

"He-He just killed Lady C-Two!"

"He killed Zero's woman!"

"What the-"

"She'll be fine," Lelouch announced. He gestured to a pair of gawking soldiers. "You two, go grab some restraints. Have her bundled up as tight as you can. Also, stick a knife in her skull. That should ensure she doesn't wake up."

"C-Colonel?"

"Trust me, soldier," Lelouch said, "she'll be fine. This happens all the time."

"I-uh-well, that is-"

"Go. Now." He waved his gun at her. "Preferably before she wakes up." He pointed to another pair of soldiers. "You two, clean up this mess."

Kallen, still shocked, whispered, "Lelouch, what did you just do?"

He looked down at C-Two, and Kallen could have sworn he was trembling nervously.

"Pissed her off."

…

North of Berga, Franco-Spanish Border, Unincorporated Area 24

The trench lines to the north of Berga were a horror show. The land was chopped up, black and muddy where snow did not cover it. Hospital wings were filled with screaming men missing arms and legs, the ground outside littered with white sheets that covered the bodies of the dead. Snow drifted down from the heavens, a light fall today, beautiful even as the sporadic cracking of gunshots resounded in the distance.

Lelia felt no small amount of sympathy for the wounded and the dying. She wore a thick black jacket and cap, her clothes doubled up against the cold, her golden hair pulled into a tight bun inside her hat, and a red scarf around her mouth. Her black boots felt tight on her as she trudged through the snow.

On her back was a large brown bag, the straps of which dug into her shoulders and armpits. Inside were all sorts of valuables: fresh apples, ham, eggs, shaving cream, razors, cigarettes, and a whole host of other odd items that she would be selling to the enemy troops.

Their insertion into occupied Spain had gone off without a hitch, and within an hour they'd made contact with the resistance cell that was on the ground. They were brought to a little house in the city of Berga, the capitol of the county of Bergueda, a municipality of red roofed buildings that wouldn't have looked out of place during the Renaissance. A little castle, where the local Britannian Magistrate was housed, overlooked the city from one of the many mountains that surrounded it.

The inside of the house had three rooms: the living room, the kitchen and dining area, and a single bedroom. The group's leader, Manuel, lived here alone, his parents having been killed in the riots after Spain's defection. There was a downstairs basement where the resistance met, the room bare of anything that might have been incriminating, decorated only by a large poker table in the middle of the room.

There were eleven members of the resistance in Berga, eight men and three women. Only four of them were armed with guns, a couple of shotguns and some pistols, and they were most dissatisfied to learn that they were only there to gather intelligence on the Empire's new weapon.

"Haven't seen it," Manuel had told them. "We primarily deal in sabotage and assassination, and we do it all locally. If you want to see this weapon, your best bet is to get to the front."

"How do we get to the front?" Leila had asked. "It'll be rather suspicious if a woman shows up with a group of Japanese."

"Not as much as you might think. Spain had its own share of internment camps for the Elevens. The majority of them were made into laborers for the war effort."

"What happened to the rest?" Ayano asked cautiously.

Manuel looked her in the eye. "What do you think?" he asked her. He had turned back to Leila. "We often sell merchandise to the boys in the trenches. It helps us buy information and supplies, and keeps this roof over our heads."

"And powers the Britannian war machine thereby," Yukiya interjected with a silky smile.

Manuel glared at him. "Watch it, Eleven. My big brother is a captain of artillery, and I assure you he hates fighting for the Brits. The children of Spain hate these tyrants."

"You know," Ryo said, a cruel gleam in his eye, "you keep using that word. Eleven. But, see, the funny thing is..." He approached Manuel, smirking, just within striking range. "There are no Elevens anymore. And, there's no Area Eleven either. But ya know what there is?"

"Ryo!" Leila warned, but he ignored her.

"There's an Area 24 now," Ryo said, leaning in. He looked around. "And all I see here, is a bunch of Twenty-Fours."

Manuel had turned red with anger, and those partisans with guns began stroking them threateningly.

Leila smacked Ryo across the back of his head. "Enough!" she warned him. "One more word out of you, and it's the stockades when we get back!" She bowed her head to Manuel. "Please, forgive my foolish subordinate."

Manuel's jaw worked sided to side. "Keep him on a leash," he finally growled, "or I won't be able to guarantee his safety."

"HA! You-OW!"

Ryo fell to his knee, rubbing his foot where Leila had stomped on it. "He won't say another word out of turn," she promised, not bothering to look at him. "Now, you said we could tag along with you?"

"Not all of you," Manuel corrected. "Having some Elevens," he smirked smugly down at a still angry Ryo, "carry around some of the product will look good, but we're not bringing the girl." He pointed right at Ayano, who bristled.

"The Hell you ain't!" she said. "I'm not letting my friends walk right into the Devil's teeth!"

"If you wanna get raped, be my guest," Manuel retorted. "'Cause that's what your gonna get. You have a pretty face and a nice pair of tits." Ayano blushed beet red, her eyes flicking to Akito. "On top of that, you're an Eleven. Since the rebellion, you people are the first on the chopping block. I can't tell you how many of you I've seen get shot in the streets because the Brits were bored."

Leila rested a concerned hand on Ayano's shoulder. "You stay here, Ayano," she ordered.

"But-"

"You stay here," Leila repeated. "Get our equipment set up while we're gone."

Ayano, though reluctant, ultimately complied. They headed out the next morning, taking a horse drawn wagon out of the city. Mindful of what Manuel had said, Leila had borrowed a cloth wrap from Tatiana, Manuel's older cousin, and bound her breasts tightly against her body. Tatiana went with them, as her husband was a rifleman in the vicinity of where they were going, and it wouldn't be completely out of place to have her along. Leila had flashed her falsified papers to the Britannian border guards, who barely glanced at them before waving them through.

"Get your ass moving, Eleven!" Manuel shouted, bringing his baton down onto Ryo's back.

Ryo's face was bruised on the cheek where Manuel had struck him earlier, to "sell his cover" as a Japanese servant. Akito sported a cut on his lip now, though Manuel had been more gentle with him. Akito and Ryo were carrying a table between them covered in various goods to be sold.

Ryo snarled back at him. "How's about I-AGH!"

Manuel smacked his baton across Ryo's leg. "Who said you could talk, Eleven?"

Leila had been concerned at first that they would be making some kind of scene. What sickened her now was that it wasn't. Japanese prisoners were being beat wherever she saw them, as soldiers both Britannian and Spanish took out their frustrations on them. Ryo being smacked around by Manuel was perfectly in keeping here.

Yukiya kept his mouth shut and his head down, but she could see that his teeth were biting his lip so hard they'd drawn blood. His left eye was blackened, a consequence of having demanded the same treatment as Ryo. His hands trembled with repressed rage.

Lelia dropped in behind him, thankful for the scarf that masked her lips. "Just hang in for a bit longer, Yuki," she said.

"That bastard's enjoying it," he growled.

"I know. I hate it as well. Just be strong for a little longer."

He clenched his jaw, but gave her a barely perceptible nod.

They stopped a few minutes later, as close to the trenches as they could before they were stopped. Tatiana's husband was radioed when asked, and she departed their side to meet with him. The table was set up without her, alongside a number of other tables selling goods to the encamped soldiers, hawking everything from alcohol and food, to fresh socks and underwear.

As Leila held the goods up for purchase, she glanced frequently at the sky, hoping to see some sign of their white flash. A camera was hidden within the lining of her hat, and should she see it, she could clamp down on the back and take a picture. She was optimistic for the first few minutes, but as their time there passed into an hour, she grew increasingly disappointed. There was no sign of any aerial battles, nor of major combat on the ground. Nothing that would necessitate some new weapon.

"Cigarettes! Wine! Vodka!" she called out, her eyes lingering on the gray clouds.

I'm not sure I would see it anyway with all this snow.

"Is this for sale, too?"

A hand passed across her bottom, giving her cheek a tight squeeze.

She whirled around to see a Spanish soldier, possibly in his late twenties or early thirties, leering at her.

"Quite the handful you got down there," he said with a grin. "Come on, Madonna, what do you say?"

"I say I am selling cigarettes, wine, and vodka," Leila replied, backing away from him. "If you want that, cough up the money."

"It's not cigarettes or booze I need, beautiful, it's a woman." He pulled out a wallet. "I'll pay double whatever you're selling."

"My body is not for sale."

The Spaniard snorted. "Everything is for sale," he retorted. "Beer, bullets, people. Even nations, if you ask our ex-President." He grinned. "I'll make it more than worth your while."

He reached out to grab her breast. Leila was about to smack it away when the soldier cried out.

Akito stood between them suddenly, his powerful hand gripping the soldier's wrist.

"Leave her alone," he ordered the soldier.

"Yo-You dare! You filthy Eleven!"

"I won't let you-"

No no no no no NO!

Leila grabbed a baton from the table and smacked Akito across the back of his legs. His knees buckled, and she smacked him hard across the back. He shot one look at her, bewildered, but she smacked him again and again, catching him across the jaw as she did so.

He curled in on himself, his arms coming up to cover his body, his limbs shaking with every strike.

"Filthy Eleven!" Leila shouted. "You dare to lay your hand on a soldier! YOU! WILL! LEARN! YOUR! PLACE!" She punctuated each word with a strike, till Akito was quivering on the ground.

She looked up to the soldier, who had backed away from her in astonishment. "Come near me again, sir," she warned him, holding the baton at her side, "and you will find I am no whore!" She turned back to the others, who were all staring in amazement. "Manuel! Grab up the remaining product! We'll take it somewhere else tomorrow!" She raised her voice so she could be heard by all in the vicinity. "If a man cannot keep his hands to himself, we will not sell to him! Or any of his friends!"

There was a chorus of protests around them as they pulled up shop, and more than one smacked the offending soldier, but they collected their goods quickly.

Leila pulled the scarf up higher and her hat down lower so they could not see her weeping. Her body shook badly as they rode back, and she kept sneaking glances at Akito, trying to transmit the depths of her regret with every look. Manuel didn't speak to her, and neither did Ryo or Yukiya, who both refused to so much as look at her.

When they arrived back at the house, Akito jumped out immediately and strode inside.

Leila raced after him.

"I'm sorry!" she said, her hands clasped over her chest. "I'm so sorry! I didn't want to! I-I had to keep our-"

"I know," Akito interrupted tonelessly. "I screwed up. I understand."

"Please, don't just walk away like that!" Leila begged. "I-"

"What the Hell happened to you!"

Ayano came upstairs, her eyes bulging as she looked at Akito. "What the Hell!"

"I almost broke our cover," Akito answered tersely. "The Major had to fix things."

"Fix?" She looked back at Leila for moment, fury in her eyes, but turned back to Akito. She grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's go get the first aid kit. I'll fix you."

She led a willing Akito away. He did not look back.

…

Camelot Staging Ground, Huesca, Unincorporated Area 24

Suzaku fired a round from his gun across the training range. He hit the target dead between the eyes. He fired two more shots in rapid succession, aiming for the exact same spot. Even from a distance of twenty meters, he could see that the hole was growing wider and wider.

This was his eighth target paper in two hours, the result of having nothing to do and all day to do it. Today was an off day, wherein Cecile and Lloyd crunched numbers and figures like saltine crackers, while Suzaku stood off to the side with a growing headache. He wasn't stupid, but he knew he'd never understand what it was they were talking about.

You'd understand, Lelouch, he thought proudly. This kind of intellectual challenge would be catnip to you.

The smile fell from his face. Catnip reminded him of Arthur, the little cat that was the Student Council's unofficial mascot. The dark kitty had hated Suzaku with a passion, constantly biting him every chance it got, but Suzaku hadn't minded. That cat had been a gift from a beautiful girl, now long out of his reach.

He scowled darkly. The target at the end of the range took on a new appearance: a long black cape, purple gentleman's clothes, a glass and metal mask.

Suzaku brought his gun back up, firing until his magazine was spent, reloading and firing again. By the time he was finished, the head of the paper was completely gone.

Just like Arthur. The cat had been lost after the bombing, perhaps even killed, Suzaku didn't know. All he knew was the little thing was gone, just like everything else in his life.

"Boy, I'll bet he has a migraine."

Suzaku turned around to see Cecile, wearing her heavy coat and a pair of ear protectors and safety glasses.

He gave her a weak smile. "Probably more like a tumor," he replied. "Are you and Lloyd finished?"

Cecile nodded. "Lloyd already sent the final proposal, we're just waiting for final approval. With any luck, the Albion project will be able to get started soon."

Suzaku nodded. "Good," he said. "Maybe if we can get that technology to the rest of the army, we can end this war faster."

"One can only hope. Come on," she invited. "I made hot cocoa, if you'd like to join me?"

"I'd be delighted."

Suzaku switched out the magazine in his gun for a fresh one. He spent a few minutes cleaning up his mess, collecting the shell casings and slotting them into the ammunition boxes. Once he was finished, he loaded them up in his brown duffle bag and followed Cecile.

It was the right kind of evening for cocoa; his breath misted in front of him, ice crunching beneath his feet. He slid an arm around Cecile's waist, pulling her close to his side.

"For warmth," he explained to the startled woman. Thankfully, she nodded at his explanation, pulling tighter to him as they made their way to her private truck.

The officers had all been given their own RV's to sleep in. Cecile held the door for him, and he climbed in after her.

"Make yourself at home," she told him.

Suzaku did as she bade, pulling off his heavy jacket and gloves, watching casually as she did the same. Cecile was a beautiful woman, Suzaku had to admit. She had a tight waist that flared out into a wide pair of hips, and her bosom full, straining against the fabric of the blue turtleneck she wore.

Her face was gentle and aristocratic, her blue-gray eyes always warm whenever she looked at him.

It wasn't just her physical looks, though. Cecile was maternal, always looking out for the people around her. She was supportive and patient, always willing to see the best in people.

Cecile was going to make some lucky man a good wife, assuming the twenty-five year old ever decided to settle down.

Suzaku sat at the dinner table on the side of the RV, a rectangle built to service a family of four. Cecile approached him a minute later, steaming mugs in both her hands.

"I have marshmallows, too, if you'd like," she told him, setting a pink mug down in front of him.

"That would be fine."

She gave him a warm smile. As she went about retrieving the marshmallows from the cupboard, Suzaku took a hard look at the mug she had placed before him. The pink was the exact same shade as her hair.

Euphie. The woman he'd loved, and lost. When the Black Knights assaulted the Britannian defenses during the Battle of Tokyo, they had used human shields as a means of dissuading the Britannians under Suzaku's command from firing. Suzaku had refused to fire, unwilling to murder innocent civilians, until a stray artillery round had struck the Viceroy's Palace. Believing Euphemia to be dead, he'd gone into a grief-fueled rampage, annihilating the civilian opposing forces and, subsequently, the enemy leadership.

For that war crime, he'd been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant and received a medal for his bravery. In the process, he had lost Euphemia's respect, and her love.

"Here you go," Cecile said, ending his brooding. She plopped a pair of big, puffy white marshmallows into his drink.

"Thanks," Suzaku said, taking a sip. The rich taste of the cocoa filled his mouth, sweetened by the marshmallows floating against his lips. "It's delicious. Where's it from?"

"I had it imported from Area One," Cecile replied. She sat down next to him. "Tabasco grows the finest cocoa seeds in the world. Much better than the local product."

"Given our location, I can't help but doubt we'll ever taste the local product."

Cecile giggled. "You're probably right. Once the war's done, maybe we could try some of the local delicacies?"

Suzaku doubted they would be here when the war was done. Once Europe submitted to the inevitable, the next stop would have to be Asia. More specifically, Area Eleven. Suzaku was looking forward to his homecoming.

You murdered my friends and threw my homeland into civil war, he thought bitterly. You cost me my honor, and my love. I hope to see you again real soon, Zero.

Cecile placed her hands on his. "Is everything alright, Suzaku?" she asked him, concerned.

He thought about lying, but he was sure she'd see right through it. "Not really, no," he answered honestly.

"Would you like to talk about it? If not with me, then..."

Suzaku rejected her unspoken suggestion with a shake of his head. "No, I'm not going to see that shrink."

"It could be good for you-"

"No."

Suzaku was pretty screwed up in the head. He knew that. He didn't need some psychiatrist to tell him.

Cecile let go of his hands, holding hers up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I understand. Here, I'll get you some more cocoa."

As she went to stand up, Suzaku grabbed her hand. She turned around, surprised. Suzaku was, too.

"Cecile, when's our next leave time?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "This upcoming Saturday. Why?"

"Why don't I drive you to Madrid?" Suzaku offered. "We can see the sights, enjoy fine Spanish cuisine on the taxpayer's roll. What do you say?"

A bright smile lit up Cecile's face. "I'd like that, very much," she accepted.

"Good," Suzaku replied. "We'll have a good time."

He let go of her hand so that she could grab them more drinks. Suzaku relaxed back into the seat, tapping the table peacefully.

A man could get used to this.

….

Britannian Air Base, Marshall Islands Territory

"There's no telling how many of their Knightmares they've moved into position," Sir Bart Darlton of the Glaston Knights reported to Major Villetta Nu. "This fog is too thick. Whatever they're doing, they're doing it soon though. All kinds of infantry and armor are being moved into position."

"Have you made contact with Tohdoh or his Holy Swords?" Villetta asked.

She sat behind an oak desk, a satellite phone held up to her ear. She wore a red tie with her white button up shirt, a purple sleeveless coat, the torso of which looked like a vest, a short black skirt, thigh-high black stockings that climbed her long, dark legs, a pair of long purple gloves, and a pair of high-heeled black boots. Her silver hair was pinned into a side ponytail, a single lock falling down the right side of her face. Her office was square, with white walls and a blue carpet, a pair of chairs sitting across from her desk, on which rested a lamp, documents, and a pen holder.

As the Chief of Operations for guerrilla activities in Area Eleven, she was afforded a position of relative comfort and safety from the Marshall territory. Villetta hated it.

I should be out there with them, she groused silently, not stuck here playing minder.

"I sent feelers out yesterday morning," Sir Bart said. "We should have a meeting set up soon."

"Good. What about the other remnants in the north?"

"We've pulled together three different groups, totaling somewhere around five hundred. They're about all that's left. Unfortunately, we don't have much in the way of equipment."

"Map out coordinates for the next air convoy," Villetta said. "We'll bring in as much as we can, but don't expect anything requiring fuel."

The knight laughed on the other end. "Wouldn't dream of it, ma'am," he said.

"Get things worked out soon, and me and a few friends might just come over for tea," she promised.

"We always look forward to entertaining guests. Garish One, out."

She set the phone back on her desk, pulled the drawer open to grab some paperwork. As she did, a silver ring gleamed up at her. Her breath caught.

She lifted the ring up, a mix of conflicting emotions swirling within her.

It hadn't been difficult to find out the leadership of Zero's terrorist state; the novel regime had been trying to get diplomatic recognition throughout the world. Finding out who made up the government was child's play.

Joy at Ohgi's survival clashed with anger at his betrayal, her every thought of love twisted with resentment at how he'd used her. Ohgi's rank as the Second Consul of their republican farce could only have been handed out to someone who was high ranking within the Black Knights, perhaps someone near the very top.

How long were you using me for information? Villetta thought bitterly. How long was I an unknowing stool pigeon for your dark Lord?

After a moment's hesitation, she slipped the ring into the pocket of her coat.

"We'll find your twin soon enough," she said to it. "And we will have answers."

…

Five Days Inn, Tianxin District, Changsha, Hunan Province, Chinese Federation

There were four bridges that connected western and eastern Changsha over the Xiangjiang River, a muddy brown waterway that divided the city vertically in half. The two northern most bridges had been destroyed by the Communists as they retreated, but the southern two had been captured intact, and a third had been constructed by the army engineers. Tanks, armored cars, and Gun-Ru's crossed the frozen river with impunity, advancing on the last Red holdouts in the city's western outskirts.

Li Xingke, Supreme Commander of the Chinese Federation's Armed Forces, observed the offensive from the top floor of an apartment building on the east side of the river. He was a young man in his early twenties, though his brown eyes held a wisdom that belied his age. His black hair fell to his knees, secured in place by a red headpiece that wrapped halfway around the back of his head. A blue and gold sword hung from the red sash around his waist.

He frowned at what he saw.

The city was rubble. Skyscrapers had collapsed, apartment buildings blown to pieces, shops and restaurants shattered and scored with bullet holes or artillery pieces. Multiple streets had motorized traffic blocked because of the masonry that clogged them. Of the eight manufacturing plants that Changsha had boasted before the war, five remained in operation; two had been destroyed by the Communists on the way out the door, and the third had been hit by a bombing run when the Royalists began the invasion.

"Commander!"

He turned around. General Zhou Xianglin, his aide and second, bowed before him, her hand clapped over her full bosom. Her chocolate brown hair was pulled into four pigtails in the back, all held by yellow hair ties, and two locks of hair that framed her green eyes, the right lock held together with a finger length gold clasp. A gold earring in the shape of an acorn hung from her left ear.

"Colonel Hu reports that his forces have taken the Lijingpu Subdistruct, and await your permission to begin the march on Ningxiang."

"Is the Wei River Bridge still standing?"

"Yes, Commander. The Air Force has been hard at working ensuring the rebels don't demolish it."

The Communists must be getting hit harder than I thought if they're giving up this much territory this easily.

"Permission granted," Xingke decided. "Once he's taken the city, tell him he is to fortify his position."

"Yes, Commander!"

Xingke followed her back to the command center. It was located in the hotel's Master Suite, a room that felt less like a hotel and more like an apartment. Or it would, had they not removed all unnecessary furniture and replaced it with communications equipment, sleeping cots off in the corner, and a large table in the main dining area on which rested a map of Changsha.

As the capitol of the Hunan Province, Changsha was connected by highway to each of the territory's cities. Taking Changsha was essential to having effective freedom of movement throughout the region. With the city once more under the Tianzi's control, they would divide the army in half, leaving behind a garrison of twenty thousand to fortify the city. The two halves, each of which numbered at three hundred and fifty thousand, would march in opposing north/south directions, reclaiming the outer edges of the province, before swinging back around and encircling the center. Xingke would have preferred to keep the army in one piece, but time was of the essence. They needed as much armor as they could get.

Xingke's chest stung. He rubbed at it mindfully. The scar on his chest from the Tianzi's branding still pained him, flaring up every so often with a burning sensation.

As my brand still stings, so does the pain of my betrayal, he mused.

The coup de' tat to topple Zero had been multinational, involving both the leadership of the JLF and the Japanese government-in-exile, headed by Atsushi Sawisaki. By conspiring with the High Eunuchs, the Empress' mortal foes and the true rulers of China, they forced Xingke and Xianglin to betray the Tianzi's plans, attempting to discredit her and end her movement before it could truly begin. As a part of that power play, the Eunuchs sent several hundred thousand of their crack troops to Area Eleven at the height of Zero's Black Rebellion, only to have the operation blow up in their faces; literally so in the case of Gao Hai, the High Eunuch who led the assault and was killed besieging Tokyo.

The Empress had only been rescued from certain death by the Lady Kaguya Sumeragi, who had been making alliances within the nation's military. "Compartmentalization," she had called it after they were all reunited and safe. "We each had a little bit of information, but not the whole, so that if one of us was caught, it wouldn't bring down the others."

Xingke looked over the map. Southeast Mainland China was under their direct control, a consequence of the industrialized south declaring for the Royalist cause from the outset. The northeast was still under control of the Eunuchs, with the frontline entrenched at Xushou, just south of Zhaoyang Lake.

The southwest was a different story.

In the chaotic bloodletting of the early days of the fighting, Vietnam had conquered Cambodia and Laos, and swallowed the eastern half of Thailand. The Indians were holding off Burma on their eastern flank, and had advanced westward and northward, into the province of Pakistan and the Jammu Kashmir region.

Refugees from their opposite factions were pouring into the Federation, bringing with them fighting age men to press into the army, robust older men and women to push into the factories, millions of mouths to feed, and a million different horror stories. Massacres, ethnic cleansings, widespread torture, hangings by the thousands. It was as if all the ethnic and religious hatreds, suppressed for so long by the unity of the Federation, had burst loose as soon as the Royal yoke was removed.

"Commander," a comm officer said. "Colonel Hu has taken Ningxiang. The Communists withdrew without a fight."

Xingke narrowed his eyes. I don't like this. It's too easy.

"Send out reconnaisance flights in every direction," he ordered. He turned to Xianglin. "Get our divisions on the move," he said. "I want the rest of Hunan taken as quickly as possible."

"Yes, Commander."

We have to stay on the move. Don't give the enemy a moment's rest.

The French had called it "no law but the offensive," which became, admittedly, ghoulishly ironic in the killing fields of Flanders, Ypres, and the Somme, but the maxim held some merit. So long as they held the advantage, so long as they had superior numbers, superior equipment, and superior supplies, they needed to keep moving.

"Commander!" a comm officer called out. "Our southern recon flight has spotted enemy reinforcements out of Guangxi, from the direction of Guilin. They report the enemy is flying a gold star on a red banner."

"That would be the Vietnamese," Xingke said. He ran a finger over the hilt of his sword. "Workers of the world unite, hmm?" he murmured. "Composition?"

"Two armored columns," the officer replied. "Predominately old model tanks. Infantry is at division strength. They're using ice trucks to clear the roads of snow."

There were roughly a hundred thousand enemy troops still in Hunan. The Communists couldn't push them out of Hunan with those numbers, but they could bog them down in lengthy sieges. Fortunately, the enemy's numbers were scattered, and Xingke had air superiority.

If they were trying to reinforce the troops out of Chengsha, then the city of Hengyang would be their target. It was the most direct route they could take.

"Send half of the Southern Front to Chenzhou," he ordered Xianglin, "and one hundred ten thousand to Shaoyang. Send the remainder to Hengyang. Hengyang will be the anvil. Once the enemy has committed to the attack, we will surround and crush him."

"Yes, Commander."

It'll take them close to seven hours to reach Hengyang, thanks to the snow. But how long will it take to push the enemy that far back?

"Have the Air Force harass the enemy. Slow them down but do not stop them. Whatever army they sent dies here."

"Yes, Commander."

We'll have to take stock of how much Sakuradite we have left after this. If my estimate is correct, we'll hit our operational limit soon.

He checked the map. Chongqing was next on the list, being the capitol of the People Republic of China, but they were going to have to settle for Hunan for now. They would need to time to stock up on supplies, Sakuradite, and Knightmares. Taking Chongqing was going to be a bloodbath, and Xingke would need as much soap as possible to get clean again.

He clenched his fist in frustration. All of this could have been avoided!

He breathed deeply, letting the anger at himself fade away. There was a tickle at the back of his throat. He pulled out a handkerchief and coughed into it. When he finished, it came away bloody.

How much more time do I have?

He looked out the window, to the snow covered streets and icy rubble.

Long enough, My Empress, he promised. Long enough.

…..

Black Knight Research Facility, Mount Hotaka, Nagano Province, United States of Japanese

The Black Knight Research Facility at Hotaka Mountain had originally been a missile silo, housing multiple Japanese ballistic missiles. These missiles were among the many hundreds that had been launched at the Imperial war machine as it stampeded towards the country. Advanced Britannian defense networks ensured that none reached their targets.

It was built into the side of the mountain, inside a cave that had formed naturally over millions of years. It wasn't big; the base was only three levels deep, a consequence of digging through solid rock, which meant that its staff could only take on two or three projects at once. Because of the shortage of Sakuradite, which was a sick irony if ever there was one, those projects had been restricted even further. Full testing was only being done for the Guren Mark Two, with the intention of retrofitting it for flight.

Nina Einstein wasn't particularly bothered about that. The seventeen year old girl, who's short dark green was tied in a loose ponytail, while her indigo eyes rested behind a pair of wide rimmed glasses, though it only fitting that Kallen's knightmare be the focus of their efforts. Kallen had saved her life during the Lake Kawaguchi Hostage Crisis some months back, so Nina was more than willing to ensure her beautiful red knight was equipped for the wars to come.

The problem was that Knightmare Frame development was not her area of expertise.

The waifish girl sighed. She stretched her back, the popping sound loud in her tiny office, a trio of computers sitting in a semicircle before her. Diagrams and formulas floated before her eyes. On the middle screen was the preliminary designs for a Sakuradite reactor that would, hopefully, power a substantial portion of the area in and around Tokyo. She'd had similar designs for a reactor before the war, back when she was on the Student Council at Ashford Academy.

She rubbed her tired eyes. "It's only theory crafting at this point," she grumbled.

They were months away from any kind of breakthrough in reactor development, further if one considered they had no practical way of implementing experiments. It would take a further year to construct the reactor.

It frustrated her immensely.

Nina yawned.

She closed out of the design templates on her desktop and pulled another file out of one of the folders. She selected a set of models that had been drawn up in the lead up to the rebellion, smiling with no small amount of satisfaction.

The Handheld Armament Detonation Implosion System, or HADIS, was her first official creation for the Black Knights. It was about the size of a water bottle, activated by pressing the detonator switch at the top of the rod, and silver in color. The kill field was about ten meters in circumference, and was better described as an implosion rather than explosion, creating a collapse effect that destroyed all matter in its area. The weapon had apparently seen some use by the traitor forces during the attack on Tokyo, if the stories from the survivors were to be believed.

This weapon, so far, was her greatest achievement.

But I can certainly do better.

Her original designs had called for a much larger device, with enough firepower to destroy an entire city.

That was what she was working on now.

If her projections were correct, the blast radius would be somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-four kilometers. All that would be left of the target would be a massive crater.

Zero had seemed a little perturbed when he gave the order to focus all her efforts on it. It was odd to her, given what he'd done to Ashford; but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The problem was resources. 'All of her focus' thus far had just meant her computer models due to the necessity of fuel for the war effort. They had become something of an eyesore of late.

She went to close the model, but her eyes caught a picture on her desk. She picked it up, her heart racing.

It was a picture of her induction into the Black Knights. She was blushing profusely in the photo, shyly waving to the camera, because next to her, her arm wrapped around Nina's shoulders, her fingers held up in a V for victory pose, was a grinning Kallen in full Black Knight regalia. Her jacket was open, exposing the smooth slope of her ample breasts that hid behind her loose yellow shirt, her bottom stuck out behind her just enough for Nina to admire how plump it was. Her red hair flowed around her lovely face, framing her pink lips that glistened every time Nina looked at them, her blue eyes warm and happy.

There was an itch between her legs. Nina's hand moved to the hem of her skirt, but she stopped herself.

She really did not want to have to explain what she was doing should someone walk in on her.

She set the picture back down and took another look at the screen.

The sphere of her implosive, over twenty-four thousand meters in circumference, whispered to her.

A rueful smirk tilted her lips.

Witness the beautiful light I make for you.