I do not own Code Geass.
….
Office of the First Consul, Presidential Palace, Tokyo, United States of Japan, December 2017
It took two days to find C-Two. The immortal showed a passing understanding of the topography, indicating she'd probably been to Japan before, but the lack of forestry and vegetation made it difficult for her to hide. She hadn't grabbed any rations before she left, which, combined with the cold, sapped the strength from her body. They had found her dead in the snow, her amber eyes glazed over.
Naturally, she was right as rain in a few hours.
Zero tapped his finger impatiently on his desk. He was in full regalia now, his Alan Spacer persona discarded for the time being. The weighty black helm, shaped like a King's chess piece with it purple glass plate, settled on his head like an old friend. His violet Victorian ensemble was much thinner than the multiple layers he had worn while out in the field; but, that was perfectly fine in the air conditioned Consul's office. He was alone in the room, save of course for Kallen, who stood just over his left shoulder at parade rest, in her standard Black Knight uniform.
He had just finished speaking with Yoshida, communication with the front line now fully restored. Yoshida would be escorting over five hundred prisoners that had attempted to slip back across the line in the aftermath of Tohdoh's Last Stand. Zero appreciated that. They would be good fodder for Mount Fuji.
The intercom on Zero's desk beeped. "First Consul," his secretary, a woman in her early twenties, said, "Lady C-Two has arrived."
A thrill ran through Zero's chest. "Send her in," he ordered.
The large wooden door on the other side of the room opened. C-Two entered, flanked by a pair of guards who glanced periodically at her suspiciously, on guard for any sudden movements. They brought her to stand just across from him, close enough to speak, yet far enough that they could put her down if she became a threat.
Zero frowned. This was not a situation he wanted. He rested his elbows on his oak desk, fingers steepled before him.
"What happened?" he demanded, hidden eyes squarely on C-Two.
The girl shrugged. "I decided to go for a stroll," she replied tonelessly, her amber eyes bored. "It was such a lovely day, I could not even countenance the idea of staying indoors."
His eye twitched. "You put three of my men in a seizure."
"They were in my way."
"They were there to protect you!"
A smug, ugly smirk turned her lips. "I hardly need protecting, boy."
The guards looked outraged. "You can't just talk like that to Lord Zero!"
"I speak how I please to whom I wish."
"Leave us!" Zero commanded.
"But, sir-"
"I am in no danger, sergeant," Zero said, carefully concealing his uncertainty behind a mask of confidence. "We are partners, after all." Her eyes widened, just for a second, as she realized who he was. He gestured to the soldiers. "Go."
After a moment's hesitance, both of them saluted, marching out the door.
"That goes for you too, Kallen," Zero said, not turning to her.
"I don't trust her," Kallen replied stiffly.
"I do," Zero lied. "We have a contract. She won't harm me so long as that's the case."
He sensed Kallen wanted to say something, but she restrained herself. As she followed the departed guards, she stopped by C-Two and warned her, "If you hurt him, I will make you beg for death."
C-Two didn't bother looking at her. "Better men than you have tried."
Kallen clenched her fist, shooting a look at Zero. He gave her a final nod. She left, her back ramrod straight, hand resting on the butt of her gun.
When the door snapped shut, Zero spoke. "Why did you try to leave?"
"Because it was so lovely a day."
"Cut the crap. Why did you leave, C-?"
Her eyes widened. "How do you know?"
"You said it once, in your dreams, a long time ago."
She blinked rapidly. "You have a bad habit, of eavesdropping."
"You said that, too. But I remember that you liked the way it sounded on my lips."
There was a displeased tilt to her mouth. "You keep using that word. 'You.'" She narrowed her eyes. "I do not know you, boy. Whomever that girl was, I am not her."
"Is that why you left? Because of me? Because of us?"
"I do not know who this 'us' is. Nor, for that matter, do I care."
Zero's hand started to tremble. He hid it beneath his desk. "Then why?"
Her face returned to its prior placidity. "That man said you had surrendered. I took him at his word."
"'That man?' You mean Tohdoh?"
"If that is his name, yes. He announced your surrender over..." A contemplative look passed over her face. "I believe it was called a 'ra-di-o'?" At his nod, she continued, "I had no reason to disbelieve you were in his custody. So, I left."
His hand was shaking even worse now. He clenched his pants leg in a vain attempt to control it. "And our contract?" Were it not for the microphone in his helmet, the sound would not have carried, so low did he speak.
"I believed you were in no position to fulfill the terms. Clearly, that is not the case." A cruel glint entered her eye. "You are not the first contractor I have had to leave. Should you fail, you will almost certainly not be the last."
Lelouch stood from behind his desk, storming towards her. He jerked the mask from his head, eyes blazing, pulling down the black balaclava he wore beneath. He slid his steady hand around her waist, cupping the small of her back, and kissed her hard on the lips.
They were stiff, cold, unresponsive.
Desperation set in. He increased his ardor, pulling his other hand out to cradle the nape of her neck, bending her backwards.
She was as frozen as ice.
He pulled away from her, trying to spy any kind of love, or warmth, or simple human affection.
Her face was a stone wall, bearing nothing for him to see. No hatred. No anger. Not even disgust.
There was nothing.
"Did you feel anything?" Lelouch asked her. "Anything at all?"
"No."
His hand was shaking again. He didn't try to hide it.
She's gone, he thought. She really is gone.
I'm alone.
"I see," he said. He looked her in the eye. "Very well. I won't do it again."
He set his helmet back on his head. He returned to his desk, embracing the indescribable cold that surrounded him.
"You may leave," Zero said. "An apartment will be assigned to you. You may invest its decorations however you like. I will summon you as needed."
C-Two gave him a shallow curtsy. "Very good, My Lord," she said. She turned around and left.
Zero clicked the intercom. "Have Major Kozuki come back in," he directed. "Summon the ministers for a meeting, to be conducted in one hour."
"Yes, My Lord."
Zero set to work on the documents he'd been neglecting.
"It's time to let the world know," he said to Kallen as she reentered the room. "Japan is mine."
…
Malcal Manor, Paris, Sovereign Republic of France, January 2018
If there was one thing Leila hadn't anticipated from her house arrest, it was the sheer soul crushing boredom. In the end General Smilas-Gene-hadn't been able to prevent the court martial. Too much death, too much devastation. She understood why she was under the gun.
The dread that had possessed her since the inquiry began faded away after the first two days, leaving her with precious few occupations over the course of the day. She spent the first week working through the backlog of books she had accumulated; poring over Shirer's Collapse of the Third Republic, burning her way through The Guns of August, rolling her eyes during Davis's Fall of the Confederate Government. She made it halfway through Gibbon's Decline and Fall when she picked up a tawdry romance novel about a woman trapped in a loveless engagement, which took her down a rabbit hole filled with lovelorn women, isolated from friends and society, who find themselves seduced by buff noblemen who reintroduce them as their blushing brides.
At the end of that first week, she began the arduous process of organizing her closet; then her bathroom; then the closet down the hall; then the pantry; the gymnasium; the garage; the servant's kitchen; the car pool; the attic. She tried to sit down and just relax, but her anxiety over the court martial had her twisting in her seat or on her bed.
She tried engaging her brothers in conversation as some means of distracting her from the slow, deathly crawl of time, but unlike her they had engagements to keep and business to attend to; something which Ioan, her eldest foster brother and fiancé, took no small pleasure in reminding her of.
"You had everyone else fooled," Ioan had sneered. "But not me, never me! I always said they should have never let you in, and now I stand vindicated."
She avoided him after that.
Her other brothers were more sympathetic, but it was clear they shared his opinion.
As she jogged on the treadmill in the gymnasium, her headphones picked up the daily news report.
"We can now confirm that the Civil War raging in Japan has reached its conclusion," the brunette reporter said. "This morning, Cloud News was contacted by a Mister Diethard Reid, the Black Knights' Communications Director, who informed us that General Kyoshiro Tohdoh, the leader of the rebel movement in the north, had been captured during the Second Battle of Tokyo last month. General Tohdoh pleaded guilty to treason and terrorism, and claimed to be the orchestrator of the Ashford Festival Bombing last year.
"First Consul Zero, the terrorist mastermind responsible for overthrowing the Imperial occupation, intends to hold a public execution later in the week. Should General Tohdoh indeed be killed, it will mark the final bloody act of the Japanese Revolution."
Leila rolled her eyes. "So Tohdoh is 'General,'" she gasped, "but Zero is still the 'terrorist mastermind'?"
She clicked the TV off with her remote, and slowed the treadmill down to a walk.
No one was buying that Tohdoh was behind the attack on Ashford. Even if he was, everyone understood that Zero was likely the one to order it.
But the victors write the history books.
Leila had no idea what the truth was, and she likely never would. It was all too muddled.
She turned her mind to more pressing matters.
With the war over, I wonder how long until the talks of repatriation resume?
Akito and the others would certainly appreciate that. They were on house arrest just as she was, with little to do besides exercise and watch TV. What future did any of them have in the EU?
She frowned deeply. Will they want to leave soon? She felt a pang in her heart.
The question followed her into the shower, her hands on the wall as she stood beneath the shower spray until long after the water had gone cold.
…...
Gymnasium, Camelot Compound, Huesca, Unincorporated Area 24
Suzaku jabbed the punching bag with a hard right fist. He followed that up with a left uppercut, then a series of kicks to the groin, stomach, and chest. He sent a flurry of blows to the ribs, then a series of knee strikes to the groin. He finished up with a final hard jab to the chest.
He fell back, breathing heavily. Sweat ran down his body in streams, the hard muscle of his torso bare, the perspiration glistening off his sharply defined abs and chest. He was only wearing a pair of black kickboxing shorts, his hands and feet wrapped in bandages. His mask rested on a table nearby.
He paced around, bouncing on his feet as he moved. He rolled his neck, the bones popping loudly in his ears. The floor grew wet beneath him.
Suzaku had been in the gym for more than an hour, alternating between the various pieces of exercise equipment, his training becoming more frantic the longer he was in there. The gym was small, and at this time of night, empty. Posters of foreign athletes- Boxers, baseball players, football stars- hung from the walls. The white walls were yellow with age.
"The terror state of Area Eleven has been unified beneath the Dark Lord's banner," the radio squawked. "The Emperor calls upon all Britannians to marshal themselves for the wars that are to come. At his press conference this morning, Prime Minister Prince Schneizel's Chief of Staff, Kanon Maldini, reassured the public that the Empire would strike back."
"I can assure you," Maldini's recording said. "We shall return, and in force. The families of those who have suffered loss will surely have justice."
Corpses lay stacked on top of one another. Men. Women. Children. All staring glassy eyed at a bloodstained boy in white.
Suzaku whipped around, punching the bag more heavily than before. He unleashed a series of hard kicks that had the bag start swinging around, chains attached to the ceiling creaking. He drove a left-handed uppercut into the stomach, followed by a spinning elbow to the face, a grab on the shoulders so he could knee it it repeatedly in the groin.
His breath was heavy when he stopped, his eyes stinging from the sweat. He shook out his arms.
How many people did you murder, Lieutenant? How many innocent men, women, and children did you kill, Lieutenant?
I didn't count.
Perhaps you should have. Their blood bought that medal.
Suzaku punched the bag as hard as he could. His fist went right through, sinking deep into the chest, his hand grasping the heart of his opponent. Blood dripped from the hole. When he pulled it out, he could see their faces. Lelouch, Nunnally, his Father. The people he had killed, before, during, and after Tokyo. The people he would kill. The murders yet to come.
"Suzaku!" a kind voice called out.
Suzaku blinked. "Cecile?" he wondered aloud.
Cecile entered the gym area he was in, a sunny smile on her face. "There you are," she said, clicking the radio off. She was wearing a blue turtleneck and gray sweatpants. There were no cosmetics on her face, indicating that she had been about to head to bed, but Suzaku thought that only increased her beauty. "I've been looking everywhere for you." She glanced at the punching bag. "Did it owe you money?"
Suzaku looked back at the punching bag, grimacing. Stuffing was all over the floor, the hole huge, ragged. He scratched the back of his head ruefully.
"Sorry," he said. "Make sure they deduct the expense out of my pay."
"Will do," she promised. She brushed a hand across his chest. "You are soaked. How long have you been in here?"
Suzaku checked the clock on the wall. "Couple of hours," he answered, shrugging. "Couldn't sleep. Thought a little exercise would tire me out."
"Has it?"
"Not really." He stretched his arms, flexing the hard muscles in his forearms and biceps. He restrained a smirk when he saw Cecile briefly track his movement. "What do you need? I doubt you're here on a social visit."
"I quite enjoy spending time with you, Suzaku," Cecile retorted. "But yes, you're right, this isn't a social call." She crossed her arms. "His Highness Prince Schneizel el Britannia has been trying to reach you."
Suzaku tensed up. "Dammit," he cursed, going for his shirt. "I'll go right away."
Cecile placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Suzaku," she told him. "He already told me what he needed. You're to report to his office tomorrow at O-Seven Hundred for a mission briefing."
Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "That's odd," he remarked. "I haven't sortied in a while. Did he say what it was about?"
"Yes, Suzaku," Cecile said, rolling her eyes. "The Prime Minister shared state secrets with me over the phone."
"Worth a try."
Suzaku grabbed a white towel from a table. He wiped off his face and chest, drying out his hair in such a way as to show off his chest and abs. He knew Cecile's eyes were on him the whole time.
"I suppose I should head back," he said, "what with my important meeting and all." Cecile chuckled. "Will you head back with me?"
Cecile placed a finger to her lip. "Actually," she said, "I'm having a hard time sleeping, too. I think I could use a workout before bed."
She grabbed the bottom hem of her turtleneck and hoisted it over her head, arching her back as she did. Her full breasts swayed and bounced as she did so. A lace black bra, wholly unfit for exercise, contrasted tightly against her ivory skin. She folded her shirt up and tossed it on a bench, giving Suzaku a good view of her naked back. His mouth watered.
She stepped up to him sideways, the tips of her finger running across his chest. "I'll start off with some pull-ups," she told him. "You're welcome to count me off if you like. That is," she winked at him, "if you're not too tired."
She sashayed leisurely toward the pull-up bar, stopping to look at him with a smug look, her eyes flicking down.
"Just, uh..." Suzaku coughed. "Just give me a minute. I'll be right back." He flushed as he left, cursing the tightness in his pants.
At least there were few things cold water couldn't cure.
Her laughter followed him out the door.
…...
Presidential Palace, Tokyo, United States of Japan
The new year came and went, though as far as Zero was concerned, the only difference between 2017 and 2018 was the type of trouble he was dealing with. In the weeks since Tohdoh's Last Stand, the Black Knights had advanced north through rebel territory largely unopposed. Zero would have preferred to preserve their meager Sakuradite resources, especially after having had to destroy so much of it during the battle, but he needed to reestablish control over the north. The only way he could do that was by occupying it as soon as possible. Possession, after all, was nine-tenths of the law.
Not everyone was coming back into the fold willingly, however; that was why General Kousetsu Urabe stood before him today in his brand new black-gray uniform.
"We have received word of a rebel enclave in Sendai," Zero briefed him. "Holdouts who refuse to lay down their arms and be reintegrated into the United States of Japan. An advance Burai strike force is holding them in place, but it will be your task to bring the Rebs to heel."
"With prejudice?" Urabe asked.
Zero had to hand it to him; if Urabe was feeling any discomfort, he hid it well.
"By whatever means necessary," Zero replied. "Taking it without fighting would be ideal, but I will leave the precise details of how you complete your task up to you."
"When do I depart?"
"After the execution. The sooner this situation is resolved, the better. You are dismissed."
Urabe didn't leave. "Permission to speak freely?" he requested.
Zero steepled his fingers. "Go right ahead," he allowed.
"May I visit Mrs. Urabe before I depart?"
Zero stared at him icily. "No," he answered. "Now go."
Urabe nodded stiffly. He gave Zero a sharp salute and left, his heels clicking loudly on the tile floor.
"You're not exactly making him an ally, Zero," Kallen said. She stood beside him, her Black Knight uniform cleaned and pressed, her red hair silky smooth, her lovely skin gleaming. Returning to civilization, and the amenities of her mother's apartment, had done her wonders.
"I'll let him see her when he returns," Zero promised, relaxing in his seat. "I don't need those two conspiring when I chop Tohdoh's head off."
He slid a sheet of paper in front of himself, signed it, and applied the seal of his office to it. It was to his slight aggravation that the seal in question had in fact been the Viceroy's seal during the occupation. It depicted the entwined one-winged lion and snake that adorned Britannia's banner, made of burnished silver.
"How's executing Tohdoh in front of Urabe going to look?" Kallen questioned.
"Bad," a disinterested voice said.
Zero hummed.
They both looked up to C-Two, who lazed on a sofa that had been brought into the office for her. She wore a blue corset with white frills, her hair falling over her snow white skin in a lime waterfall, the summit of her ivory breasts exposed. Zero was almost certain she had raided Euphemia's wardrobe rather than take the clothes he had provided. "Executing Tohdoh before his most loyal follower will be seen as unnecessary cruelty. The JLF will hate you even more for it."
"You're pitching in now?" Kallen asked incredulously. "Why didn't you speak up before?"
"You didn't ask."
Zero ground his teeth. "Do you have a better suggestion?"
"Kill every last one of them," she answered. "You decimated their officer corps and elevated a new unit to take their place, but they hate you just as much as the ones you killed. You cannot buy their loyalty, boy, so stop trying. You are better off geassing the lot of them to act as instructors for your new army, then killing them when their usefulness runs out." She eyed him with vague interest. "You were given that power for a reason. Use it."
"We can't just kill everyone we don't like!" Kallen protested. "Zero can't rule through fear. We're never going to come together as a people if we just stoke animosity."
"Nor will we be united when Britannia comes calling," Zero added. "I need this country unified behind me. A massacre will hardly endear me to the general populace."
"You will not heal the wounds that divide your people anytime soon," C-Two retorted. "Reconciliation will take time, time you clearly do not possess. You need them under your thumb. If honeyed words will not bring them to heel, then an iron rod must be sufficient. Or a grave."
"You're saying I should just become a tyrant?" Zero demanded.
C-Two stood up suddenly, smoothing out the wrinkles in her gown, and headed for the door.
"Wait!" Kallen called out. "Where are you going?"
"For a walk," C-Two responded blithely. The door clicked open. She disappeared through it, leaving it open.
Kallen walked over to it in a huff. "Just leave the door open, why don't you!" she shouted after her. She snapped the door shut, turning back to him. "What are you thinking?" she asked him.
"That she's right," Zero answered reluctantly. His hand started to shake, so he hid it beneath the desk. "I won't get anywhere without some targeted cruelty."
Kallen chewed her lip. "Is there really no other way?"
"I wish there were. There's too much bad blood between our camps. Something has to give, and it sure as Hell won't be me."
Kallen sighed. "Maybe you should just call Urabe back in here? Tell him to just relax with Chiba during the execution?"
"No," he rejected. "I don't need to look indecisive." He took off his helmet, setting it on the table as he ran a hand through his hair. He rubbed his brow. "The decision's made. I have to stick to it."
Kallen approached him languidly, her hips swaying with each step. She brushed a hand through his hair, running her fingers over the back of his head. "You look like crap," she said.
Zero rolled his eyes. "You have such a way with words," he responded, leaning into her touch. Some of the chill that had wrapped itself around him faded away.
She had a point. He hadn't gotten much sleep since the end of the war, racing as he was to try to build a functioning economy. Deep shadows had settled beneath his eyes. His skin was drawn and pale. His hair fell to his shoulders in a black mop. With Ohgi recovering from his wounds, he was saddled with a lot more work than he had been during the campaign. The entirety of his ministerial staff was just as worn down as he was.
Economic systems weren't created overnight. They began locally, on a rudimentary level, from basic bartering for goods, often without any semblance of a fiat currency. They advanced slowly, year by year, decade by decade, century by century, in an evolution that continued to the present. The problem, ultimately, was that modern market economies were highly complicated, and based, for the most part, on spiderwebs of international trade.
The very pen that Zero had used to sign Tohdoh's death warrant had a variety of parents: the black ink was from Germany; the metal was mined in Romania; the plastic tube was funneled in China; the blue coloring was applied in Britannia, of all places. That was just a pen; that didn't include cars, ships, electric heaters, fuel tanks, and any other number of conveniences that people took for granted.
I need roads, bridges, industrialized farm land, Zero mused. Bullets, Knightmares, planes, warships. I need it all, and I need it now.
What he needed was credit, credit to buy the supplies, natural resources, and produced commodities needed to get his people off the government dole and on a good paying job. From there would come the tax revenue he would need to manufacture or purchase the weapons, ammunition, and soldiers he needed to prosecute the war.
"What are you thinking about?" Kallen asked him gently.
Zero started. His forehead was resting against her flat belly, her scent thick in his nose. Her slender arms were wrapped around his head. She smells nice.
He pulled back from her, shaking his head. "I'm thinking it's a lot easier to gain power than it is to use it," he replied. He set his helmet back on his head. "You can go home if you like," he informed her. "I doubt someone's going to try to kill me here."
"I prefer to stay," she said, gazing down at him. There was a look in her blue eyes, one he recognized from a long time ago.
"Go home, Kallen," he said firmly. "You've barely been getting any more rest than I have. And I'm certain your mother would appreciate you being there."
A thoughtful look passed over her face. "Okay," she agreed. As she sauntered out of the room, she said, "Let's do it this Saturday."
Zero cocked an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Dinner," she answered, throwing a confident look over her shoulder. "Pick me up at eight. And don't be late." Before he could respond, she stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
The room was cold again. He welcomed it. It was familiar now. He slid the helmet back on, a foul taste in his mouth.
A sharp lancing pain went through his right eye. He ground his teeth against it, clenching his fist tightly. It was sustained, sharp, and his head hurt nowhere else.
He didn't have to check his reflection.
Soon. It would be soon.
I'm sorry, Kallen, he said silently.
He had made his decision.
His right eye burned.
…
Secret Throne Room, Pendragon, Holy Empire of Britannia
V-Two was not nervous. His hands were clasped behind his back, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, and he was licking his lips repeatedly, but he was not nervous.
His hands were behind his back because it made him more regal and respected. He was hopping up and down up and down because he had the body of a ten year old, and was thus always in an excitable state. As for his lips, that strawberry sucker had just been that good.
He was going to an audience with his dear little brother; why would he be nervous?
Two men guarded the door to his brother's private Throne Room. They were massive, wore black plate armor, and wielded spears tipped with black iron. Red eyes, the proof of their Rampancy, burned beneath their helms.
"Prince V-Two," the guards said in unison, "His Majesty will receive you now."
V-Two said nothing to them. The doors opened, and he hurried inside.
It was dark, this secret place. White light shone mutely through purple stain glass windows, cast down on the purple carpet that extended from the doors to the man who sat up on the Throne.
Charles zi Britannia, Emperor of All Britannia, regarded V-Two with distant coolness.
V-Two swallowed.
I did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong.
He had been repeating that mantra for weeks as his darling little brother investigated just what had happened in Area Eleven. V-Two had said nothing, instead removing as many loose ends as he could to cover his tracks.
Clearly, it hadn't been enough.
This is all your fault! he cursed that dead woman. If you hadn't spread your legs, this never would have happened!
V-Two came to a stop before the Throne.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing.
"Rise," his Emperor ordered.
V-Two did so, adopting a cocky smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this summons?" he asked.
"Tohdoh and his rebels have fallen," the Emperor said without preamble. "The only force in Asia capable of providing a check against Lelouch's ambitions has been removed. His control over Area Eleven is now absolute."
V-Two sniffed. "Hardly absolute," he said. "Deep divisions still run through the nation. Our agents report that he is preparing to send a task force north to crush what's left of the rebellion. That will take time. Time he does not have."
"Do you really believe that Lelouch will remain in Area Eleven much longer?" the Emperor asked.
V-Two flexed his jaw. "I don't see what choice he has," he replied. "He has no industry, no fighting force. He must rebuild Japan if he's to turn it into an effective weapon against us. He has no allies, no friends. He is poor. The Sakuradite does not flow."
The Emperor was not impressed. "He will go to China," he said.
V-Two raised an eyebrow. "I do not think-"
"I am aware," the Emperor interjected. "It is because you weren't thinking that we're in this situation. What possessed you to authorize this idiocy when I had already rejected it?"
V-Two licked his lips. "Charles, I-"
"He will go to China," the Emperor interrupted again. "He will go to China because he has no choice. He needs armaments, resources, industry, and, above all else, warm bodies. He will assist the Tianzi in whatever way he is able, and he will win their Civil War just as he has won his." The Emperor glared at him. "A victory you gave him. The reunification of Area Eleven is on your shoulders, brother."
V-Two went on one knee. "My Emperor!" he shouted. "I swear, I shall make this right!"
"You had better."
"I will go to China as well!" V-Two promised. "I will unite the disparate factions, and I will crush this upstart once and for all!"
The Emperor said nothing. He rose to his feet. His boots clacked imposingly as he departed.
An enraged grin spread across V-Two's face.
Damn you! Goddamn you, MARIANNE!