There was only ever one game of chess where Clovis had the upper hand against his younger brother. In the last game Clovis had played against Lelouch before his father had sent him away to the hands of the Eleven barbarians, while trying one of his brutal gambits, Lelouch had accidentally hung his queen. Since his gambit involved sacrificing most of his pieces for an early checkmate, Clovis had been in the illustrious position of having a queen and a near full board against nothing but a rook and a few pawns. Lelouch admirably resisted, of course, but there was little the pawns could do against the full might of the white queen. It would have been his first checkmate against Lelouch, but. . .

Well, Clovis thought as he heard reports of the Lancelot locating the enemy commander, even if I'm not using my own piece, at least this time we'll see the match to checkmate.

Bartley perked up as he heard a report from his earpiece. "Your highness! Good news! The target's been secured!"

Clovis sighed in relief. "Oh! Thank goodness. Bring the subject here, and beef up security along the way to prevent some fool from trying to recapture it." Not wanting to think of whatever Schneizel would ask of him, he collapsed back into his chair. "Now then, let's just clean this mess up and go home."

Lelouch grimaced as he double and triple checked he had lost that monster of a knightmare, before tapping on his stolen knightmare's dashboard as he considered his next move. He would have preferred to simply change gears and geass his way to Clovis, but with the increased security, he could guarantee that there'd be at least a few armed guards with their eyes covered. Even if he attempted an armed incursion, he'd be crushed by the nearby knightmares, to not even consider the white knightmare. The only group that could even think of pulling it off would be the Purebloods Faction, but staging a coup with them would cause more problems than it would solve, especially in terms of optics. Not worth throwing his life away for a mere shot at.

Wait. If I could geass my way into the white knightmare. . . no, impossible. There's no way they'd let someone stupid enough to fall for such a trick pilot such a powerful model.

Escape was the only viable option, then. So much for an immediate victory to create a legend. Still, escaping wouldn't be too difficult even without geass, as he had a full feed of all enemy forces and unblocked were numerous.

"Hey! I'm returning the favor!"

Though. . . if he wasn't going to be an unstoppable genius, his force of name wouldn't be enough to command any resistance cell on its own. Gripping the communicator in his hand, he smirked. Perhaps risking a deeper connection is called for. . .

The wreckage of Shinjuku was a gruesome sight. Already heavily damaged from the invasion and the Britannian occupiers' negligence, the ongoing 'battle' had turned the fallen city into a veritable hellscape, as the roads ran with the blood of the innocent, indiscriminate against even children, with the screams of thousands of hopeless souls contrasted with the bullet fire of knightmares piloted by men who laughed inside their metal shells, celebrating their invincibility and achievements in massacre.

Deep in the tunnels below the city, there was a very different sight. A Britannian man with light blue hair and golden eyes that matched his ornate clothing bended over a rock, letting out a scream. Unlike the many other screams in Shinjuku, his wasn't out of fear or agony, he actually found the death and destruction rather amusing, but out of a much more personal frustration.

What are you waiting for, you idiot?! Deal with Clovis already! I'm never going to have a better chance!

Pollux snarled, "Shut up already! That's what I'm trying to do!" But with the added security that his older brother had set up, not even his divinity could breach through, not unless he wanted to die a second, far less fictional death.

I don't care! Just do it! I want my governorship already! Get on with it! What are you waiting for?! Do it!

Pollux screamed once again, repeatedly cursing his luck in failing to get away from Castor for a damned second so he could escape his brother's neverending childish tantrums-

I am not childish-!

"SHUT UP!"

There was movement in the corner of Pollux's eye, and desperate to find a way to tune out his brother's nagging, he followed it. Looking behind some rubble, he found a collection of elevens, mostly children clinging to an older girl, all staring at him like a deer in the headlights.

The girl briefly weighed her options- no doubt hoping the noble was in the same predicament all the ghetto's Elevens were- and took a chance. "Hey! Are you-"

While Pollux reeled at the shock of her being able to speak, a much more pressing shock came from behind him in the form of two masked troopers.

"Hey, found some Elevens here! I call dibs!"

"Hold on. That guy's gotta be a noble."

Mildly miffed at being referred to as a mere noble, Pollux turned around, noting the second soldier holding down the first's gun.

"Wait, you're right! Well, the prince said to 'leave nobody alive.'"

"He's still a noble. I ain't messing with 'im."

"Look, wanna piss off a noble, or the prince? I know what I'm doing."

Pollux rolled his eyes, and noting the Elevens inching away behind him, decided to clear their misunderstanding. "Noble? You've got it wrong. You're talking to god."

One of the soldiers looked to the other incredulously. "Okay, after we kill him, we shake him down for whatever he's smoking."

Pollux scoffed, and his eyes shone with the red light of his power. "Don't think your petty masks will protect you! Pollux rui Britannia commands you to bow to your god."

The soldiers kneeled, and Pollux chuckled. "Only a fool opposes my divinity."

Despite his eccentricity, the eleven children crowded around him in amazement, and the girl looked at him with a desperate sense of hope. "That power. . . you have to be able to help them escape! Please!"

Pollux gave them a cruel smile. "What makes you think some filthy Elevens like you deserve my blessing?" As they froze in shock, he stepped back, and let out a single word.

"Fire."

As the desperate children fell with a shower of blood against a hail of gunfire, Pollux couldn't help but let out a maniacal laugh.

"Kallen! Over here!"

Kallen turned, and saw Ohgi pointing into a warehouse. Running to follow him, she yelled, "Ohgi! You're alive!"

He sighed. "Yeah, I am. Might not be much longer, though."

She walked with him. "Come on! We can't possibly be finished yet, right? We- Naoto had a plan B, right?"

Ohgi shook his head. "Yeah, but we didn't have time to use any of them. And that white knightmare probably would have crashed through them anyway." As the warehouse doors opened, he sighed. "This is about all that's left of Shinjuku."

Kallen started to sweat as she looked through the warehouse. A few dozen people sat around in misery as Tamaki argued with a woman about whose fault the massacre was. Normally, she'd be right beside Tamaki, but even her anger towards Britannia was drowned out by raw fear.

Naoto was dead. The Britannians had wiped out Shinjuku, and they were all that was left. Their cell was done to nine people. A genius had came to save them, and Britannia merely shrugged and sent a stronger knightmare. This. . . this was the end, wasn't it?

Desperately clinging to the last bit of hope they had, she asked, "Ohgi. . . what about that voice on the radio? Is he still around?"

Ohgi sat down. "Yeah," Kallen let out a sigh of relief, "But even he's given up, I think. He told us to wait and that he'd navigate us out. This warehouse has access to tunnels in the back, but-"

He was interrupted with an explosion, and Kallen turned around in shock. Konda and Umemora were paste on the walls, and a tank rolled in where there once was a door. A troop of Britannian soldiers flooded in, and Kallen stepped back as they held their guns to them.

Tamaki cursed. "See?! We should've just used the poison gas instead of hoping some random guy on the radio would save us! Damn it Nagata, you've gotten us all killed!"

The commander pulled himself out of the tank's hatch, and looked at them in distaste. "So this is where you elevens scurried off to. Prepare to fire!"

As the soldiers readied their aim, Kallen felt tears in her eyes. No- this can't be the end! Naoto- I can't just die before making your dream true- I haven't done anything! I-

She clenched her eyes shut as the soldier's fingers pressed harder on their guns. "Naoto!"

The soldiers' guns shook as the sounds of screeching tires rapidly approached. Powerful blasts of sound buckling against a knightmare's bullet were followed with the sound of a tank exploding, and Kallen opened her eyes to see the soldiers caught between the gunfire of a red-shouldered Sutherland and her quickly regrouping allies.

"You're that voice!"

The last of the soldiers fell, and the Sutherland pointed deeper into the warehouse. "Go! If you take the right-hand path into the Marunouchi line, you shouldn't run into any resistance! I'll escape on my own!"

The knightmare ejected, and after a moment of collective hesitation, Ohgi rallied the survivors. "Well, you heard the man! Let's move before the Britannians catch up!"

Clovis watched as a group of soldiers- all soon to be recipients of pay raises and juicy promotions- brought in C.C. The professionalism was impressive. They saw immortality in practice in front of them, and their first instinct was to kill the offender again and ask their boss what to do. So much better than that group of brutes that made up his now-dead Royal Guard. He'd hoped that their raw competence record would make up for it, but he supposed he never should have trusted the mettle of a bunch of Pennsylvanian commoners that took orders from a first-gen.

Still, Clovis was mildly terrified that whatever she'd take the opportunity to do whatever she did to the guards to him, so Bartley had deftly volunteered to take charge in her interrogation.

"How did you escape that capsule?! You couldn't have done it alone!"

C.C. looked at him with boredom, as if she hadn't had her escape attempt from seven years of what could only be described as pure hell foiled. "Hmph. I don't need to explain myself to boorish men like you. It isn't like there's anyone alive to tell you."

Clovis shivered a bit. They really had captured a witch. Either he'd dodged a bullet recovering her, or the world had.

Bartley grimaced. "How did you kill the royal guard? I refuse to believe the entire guard killed themselves on the spot!"

C.C. chuckled, and everyone in the room stepped back. Her hair began to float, and the red sigil they'd found everywhere began to glow on her head. "Oh. You haven't seen the slightest of my power."

As the glowing began to intensify, a soldier- pending a background check, to be promoted to Captain of the Royal Guard- shot her right between the eyes, knocking her out. Clovis quickly ordered her to be placed in a pressure capsule, at maximum pressure and with two men on opposite direction with guns pointed at it all times, and sent to a new facility.

"Perhaps Narita?"

Clovis's eyes widened. "Are you mad?! We're not sending her there! Actually, shut that facility down and move it. The last thing we need is Tohdoh getting her hands on that woman."

Speaking of Tohdoh, a new strategic threat had appeared in Shinjuku. Out of nowhere, the terrorists had received no less than forty knightmares and started making a mockery of Clovis's plans. It almost reminded him of-

No. Impossible. Lelouch was dead, and even if he wasn't, he'd never side with the Eleven monsters.

It could be C.C., but Clovis was skeptical. He was an accomplished actor, so he was quite able to tell when somebody was hiding something. She was more guarded than most, but this was his game, and he knew how to play.

So somebody else. It wasn't Tohdoh, he was far more methodical than the mystery foe, and why would he leave his mountain for the first time in six years to help a random ghetto? Perhaps another Eleven had stepped up during the attack? He could see it, but the thought of an Eleven capable of beating a Britannian prince felt unlikely, and especially a second one.

Well, his men said all the Elevens in the ghetto were killed. Hopefully whoever it was died trying to sneak past Lancelot and they could be done with it.

"Come, Bartley. I say we ought to thank those wonderful engineers in ASEEC that gave us that miracle of a knightmare. I'd love to meet the pilot too."

Perhaps, with Lancelot, we can finally bring the peace to this land Lelouch deserves.

Step 1: Recover the test subject and fail to actually finish off the terrorists at the low low cost of half your army, your royal guard, the murder of a few hundred thousand innocent civilians, and the considerable alienation of the brother you're trying to avenge.

I need derust, so here we are with Clovis getting all the luck he very much needed and did not deserve! I'll try to post this more frequently. I need the practice writing Lelouch anyway.