Dammit, I'm not in the place I wanted to be! This was meant to be out a hell of a lot sooner, but 32 hours without power can kill any plans as all my devices died in that time, I need to invest in a power bank or two and keep them handy. Anywho! I've been talking about this for almost a month now, maybe longer, but it's finally here: another Code Geass story.

My other two stories take place from divergence points after they stop Ragnarök. Still, this one reimagines the world from the jump as I see it as a fan project for an AU of the OG timeline, kinda like what I was expecting when they announced they were making more Code Geass content…but I was disappointed when I got it, as Rose wasn't bad. Still, it feels like a repeat of the OG with a villain so shallow they couldn't even give him a damn reason for what he does.

Now, do I think I'm as good as professional writers? Hell no, I'm still a punk who's learning, but I do believe that I've come along…It is a LONG way from where I started; God knows anyone who read my early work could tell you. Anyway, I will stop wasting time and let you get to the chapter. If you have thoughts, please share them in the comments.

Chapter 1: Gather the Menagerie

The rhythmic chorus of the cicadas carried over the warm summer air. So far from town, they played their melodies, overlapping but not interfering with one another. The spot held a small field of sunflowers, tall and robust, as they danced in the breeze as two boys ran through the field, smiles on their faces and laughter in their voices. They came from different worlds, yet in that moment, they were just two youthful souls spending their summer having as much fun as life could afford them.

Getting to a small hill, the faster of the two managed to ascend it without issue, but his slower friend struggled to climb up the vertical surface but was persistent enough to still try. Realizing this, his brown-haired friend turned around, his features distinctive of someone of Asian descent. He was young, but one could tell he was fit, with a darker skin complexion that was a mixture of genetics and evidence of how much time he spent out in the sun.

As he bent to offer his friend a hand, the dark-haired boy who looked up at the offered aide, his features were different from those of his friend. He was Caucasian with a thinner, more feminine build, even for a boy his age. His skin was much lighter than the brown-haired boy's; one could call it a little pale, which was evidence of how little time he spent out under the sun's rays.

Taking the help without a moment's hesitation, the stronger of the two pulled him up the ledge. Once at the top, they took a moment to catch their breaths, though it was more the dark-haired boy who needed it. Once he had caught his breath, the two boys looked at one another before bursting out into laughter over what was never said but merely understood between them.

But that laughter died out as confusion settled in over their faces as they looked towards Mt. Fuji in the distance, one of Japan's most iconic natural landmarks. It wasn't the mountain that caught their attention, but the glistening spots contrasted against it.

What they first thought was just a couple dozen, they realized, was well over twice that, with more seemingly coming. That confusion gave way to dread and horror when they identified those spots as military aircraft right as many of them opened their bomb bay doors.

"The date was August 10, 2010 of the imperial Calander of the Holy Britannian Empire had just declared war on Japan. The far east Asian nation had held fast to its neutrality, refusing to join any of the three superpowers that dominated the world like Britannia, Chinese Federation, the United Republics of Europia, or E.U."

"Using the fact that Japan's underground resources were a hotly disputed issue in geopolitics gave them, at least for a time, the power to engage with these massive superpowers on comparable footing. But this was an arrangement that Britannia could never abide by for long, so they declared war followed shortly by an invasion of Japan from all sides."

"At sea, the Britannian navy, superior in size and experience in its recent engagements in the Atlantic and Indian oceans against its rivals, quickly broke any hopes of the Japanese Maritime Self Defence Force mounting a meaningful resistance as days into the assault, more then a third their ships lay at the bottom of the ocean, or wrecks in their harbors."

"In the air, the vast quantities of Britannian planes quickly secured air superiority, their bombers targeting cities, infrastructure, and military targets a mere hour after the declaration of war was declared and just 5 minutes after word had reached the Japanese government in Tokyo. Not even a week into the war, the skies of Japan were dominated by the forces of Britannia. At the same time, many Japanese pilots never had the chance to ever take off, their airfields bombed and planes destroyed on the ground."

"But it was the ground war where Britannian changed the game. While small, the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force was well-equipped, well-trained, and well-led. It was a force that, in a conventional war, even with the constant risk of aerial bombing, could hold its own. So Britannia didn't conventionally engage them, instead introducing the humanoid autonomous armored knight, otherwise known as the knightmare frame. With these nimble yet powerful war machines, Britannian forces routed Japanese units wherever they went, broke through defense after the defense."

"Armour was too slow to properly fight them, infantry units too weak to oppose them, and their design meant that they were suited for battle in the ruins of cities to the hills and plains of the countryside."

"Japan became a dominion of the empire. The country was stripped of its freedom, its rights-even its own name. Under its new masters, it was rebranded as Area 11, and all those that once called themselves elevens would be forced to be referred to as 'Elevens.' A final and long-lasting insult to the defeated people and a reminder of who was now in control."

On a ruined coastal road, a small group of people rested after a long day of avoiding the Britannian forces that now ran the country. A truck, an armored carrier, and a small car sat parked to the side.

A lone soldier present saluted a funeral pyre, one which held the burning remains of his comrades who gave their lives in a now-lost war. Another was a young girl, her complexion and face matching that of the same people who ravaged Japan and slaughtered its people. Still, no hand was raised against her as she sat in her wheelchair, her eyes closed as if resting.

To her side, seated on a piece of rubble, was the same brown-haired boy, looking dirtier than before, with a downcast face as he thought about his defeated country, his people who were now enslaved in all but name, and the blood…so much blood spilled.

He heard someone approach. "Suzaku." He looked up to see his friend, the dark-haired boy, and flinched just a little. He was just as dirty as him, but he looked worse; his complexion, which had always been pale, was near white, and bags under his eyes made him look like he had been drained of life. It seemed like the only thing he cared for was the silver cross that hung around his neck, the symbol being spotless despite their situation.

But his eyes grabbed his attention, as they weren't the same bright, warm violet orbs he had gotten to appreciate over their time together. Now, there was something…broken in them, leaving behind a cold, all-consuming fury that burned bright but below the surface. With how pale and sickly he looked, such a gaze made him appear less of a boy and more of a beast that crawled out of the grave.

"So, help me, Suzaku. I promise you that I will make them pay for this. Britannia will burn, and I'll be the one who sees it all turn to ash." He didn't yell, growl, or snarl; instead, his tone and eyes showed just how angry he truly was, that he understood the weight of his words and accepted that burden.

Turning away from Suzaku, the pale Britannian looked out over the waters towards the setting sun, his shoulders slumped. His exhaustion was showing more, his age and trauma showing. "It's the only way to appease the voices, to give them their revenge so that they can finally rest." Suzaku looked on, worried about his friend.

His final words held conviction to carry out his vow and resentment for the empire that did all this, but also a plea for those voices, for the nightmares that had been haunting him for almost a month now, to finally give him rest. However, he could also hear bitter resignation in his voice, this child accepting that no matter what, he'll never be free of them.

7 years after that day, things in Area 11 had changed drastically. , one of Japan's most iconic natural treasures, had been forever changed as its side was now covered in concrete and steel, beneath which mining operations had been supercharged by the new government who cared little for its cultural and historical importance or beauty, for such was only important to the Elevens.

In the distance, the Tokyo Settlement loomed large. Built over the shattered remains of Tokyo proper, the settlement was a feat of engineering. It was a multi-tiered city that provided for all the needs of the empire's citizens, powered by hydro-power stations close to the water and massive solar panel towers across the city's highest levels.

The structure was supported by dozens of skyscraper-size pillars to ensure that no natural disaster, whether the earthquakes and tsunamis Area 11 was known for or the toughest storms, could ever threaten it or the millions of Britannians who called it home. It was a calm day in the settlement; many went about their days, enjoying the weather and how peaceful life had been for many, but in the skies, a police VTOL was chasing after a truck, reporting its position.

"This is Alpha-3. The target is traveling from delta-12 to delta-14 at a speed of 80km/h." The pilot reported, keeping an eye on the target, which happened to be a nondescript truck—one of thousands in the settlement. But that was why he was ordered not to lose sight of it. If he did, then it could blend into traffic.

"CCP to all mobile units, declaring a code 3 from floor 5 to floor 2. All units take route 288. I want the target intact." His commander replied while organizing other units to assist, eventually moving in and taking it down.

"Yes, my Lord!"

But this wasn't news to anyone, and certainly not the current company. Within one of the settlement's many clubs for those of greater means and influence, a game of chess was being played. On one side was the club manager, a man in his early 50s, pale skinned with thinning grey hair, a brow covered in sweat as he looked at his pieces in fear for the loss he knew was coming but couldn't stop.

On the other sat a younger man of greater build, strength, and confidence. He was a noble who had moved to Area 11 in the years since it was brought under imperial rule and had made a name for himself in the local arms industry. Off to the side, the TV played the news.

"Here is footage of yesterday's terrorist bombing in Osaka settlement. The secretary reported 59 causalities, 8 Britannians, and 51 others." The news anchor reported, along with footage of a skyscraper's upper levels still burning, fire fighting efforts were ongoing. Still, neither player paid much attention as a beep sounded, causing the older man to shake.

One of the guards around them stepped toward him. "You're out of time. From here on, you'll make your moves every 20 seconds." His eyes widened in shock. Twenty seconds? He struggled enough with 40 seconds per move; he could never create a proper defense to even slow down his loss with such little time!

"Very well, I'm game." In contrast, his opponent didn't mind in the slightest. Why would he when he was so disinterested in a game he was sure to win that he started filing his nails to ensure they looked their best? Before things could escalate or devolve, depending on which you asked, the elevator leading into the room dinged before its door opened.

As this was a private club, one couldn't just enter and instead needed an invite, so both weren't surprised or worried about this, the nobleman looking up from his fingers. "Oh, did your substitute finally arrive?"

On the other hand, his foe was relieved as he rushed out of his chair to approach the two and properly greet them. "Thank heaven, I'm saved. Are things going well at school?" He had been worried that they wouldn't arrive but sure enough, a look at the clock and he saw that the two were only a minute late.

Hearing the manager's comment made the noble give the two a closer look, leaving him bemused at what he saw. Both seemed to be school boys, no older than maybe 20, in what appeared to be their uniforms still; no doubt they snuck out as the school day should have been still on. That uniform was a pair of black trousers, with what appeared to be white long-sleeved shirts underneath and black jackets with gold trim and collars nearly as high as the neck with their school logo on it.

The first was a darker-skinned fellow, short for a boy of his age, slim as well with dark blue hair and bangs that spread out to the sides; along with his uniform, he wore a helmet with the goggles up on it. The noble imagined that he was too much of an oaf to be worth a damn with a face like that.

His companion was where his attention went and remained on. He was the taller of the two boys by a considerable margin, with a pale complexion, smooth black hair, and violet eyes. He was also slim, but not to the extent of his friend. This one, more the how the manager turned to him, he seemed like he was the smarter of the two, though he doubted by much. Punk probably just had an ego.

"What, this is your help?" He asked, already dismissing the two boys.

The taller of the two smiled towards the manager, his manners perfect. "Things have been well, Mr. Walter, but it is only the second week of the new semester. And with how the president is, that can change on a penny." He stated respectfully, but not overly so, as it seemed like the two had known each other, and when his eye gazed at the board, his polite smile grew just a little more. "But perhaps it would be best to speak about that and the…other things later. It would be rude to make our guest wait."

"Oh, yes, of course." The manager nodded as he stood aside and let the schoolboy walk up as he tapped his nail filer on the table.

"I can't believe it, a couple of mere schoolboys?" The noble asked, wondering if he should feel insulted by this.

His opponent wasn't intimidated by him or his dismissal of his skills as he looked down his nose at him, a smile still on his face, though it was closer to that of a fox. "And you, a mere nobleman."

The noble ceased tapping his nail filer, his face tightening even if he kept a smirk. "I envy you youth, so much time on your hands, time for regrets. What's your name?" There was a threat in his tone, a reminder that the boy should remember his place, but if he picked up on it, it didn't phase him like everything else thus far.

"Lelouch. Lamperouge." His friend was a different story. He nervously watched the four guards around them as he wiggled his way to the front so he could look over the board.

"Wait a minute, Lelouch. Maybe we should let this one slide. I mean, look at the board. You can't win this one; it's impossible." He told Lelouch, which the taller couldn't fault him for, as the man he was filling in for had already lost half his pieces, the rest scattered around the board, while their opponent still had a strong front and had only lost four pieces.

Lelouch was silent momentarily as his eyes went over the board, going over each piece before he spoke up, as collected and cool as ever. "Rivalz, when would we have to leave to make our next class?"

His classmate, Rivalz, frowned for a moment, wondering what he would ask, but he did the math in his head anyway. "Well, if we bust our asses and there's no traffic clogging up the roads, 20 minutes."

"Then be sure to drive safely and follow all the rules of the road." Lelouch smirked as he sat down. "This will be over in nine minutes." He declared, not with confidence but as if it were an undeniable fact, as true as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

Such a bold claim through the noble for a loop, as he had seen his fair share of bravado and bluster from people and would have expected that and more from a youth. But this kid, this Lelouch Lamperouge, hadn't given him any signs that he was just blowing hot air. Was he just delusionary confident? " Nine minutes? You only have 20 seconds per move."

"That is more than enough time." Lelouch reached for the black king, picking it up.

"You start with the king? What a fool you are! This will be the easiest bet I've ever won." The noble laughed in his face at such a careless move, one suited for a rookie for the game. Now, he couldn't feel insulted; he was far too amused with things to be angry.

Contrary to what one would expect from a teen in his place, Lelouch didn't get angry or pout or act out in any way to being so openly mocked. If anything, his fox-like smile grew. "Oh, confident, are we? Then why don't we change the terms of the agreement."

Getting his amusement under control, the noble quickly shot down such a blatant and desperate attempt to get out of paying for this loss. "I won't lower the price just because you're a child. You dug your grave, and soon you'll have to lay in it."

"Oh, I wasn't to suggest that, quite the opposite as I want to triple it," Lelouch replied with a polite, welcoming smile, not caring for how everyone in the room froze at such a bold request, as the bet was already high. Still, if they tripled it, the winner would walk away with 90,000 in winnings.

"What?" The noble's mask of superiority slipped, if only for a moment, in confusion at such a reckless move. No, this wasn't reckless; this was financial suicide. There was no way the brat had that sort of cash; his name wasn't one he recognized. Even if he was the bastard of some wealthy businessman or noble family in the settlement, there was no way he could just ask for such an amount and be granted it.

"M-Mr. Lamperouge." The manager, who was nervous before, was on the edge now, dapping at his face with a handkerchief to keep the worst of his sweat at bay.

"Lelouch, buddy, that's going way too far. Where…" Rivalz looked towards the briefcase Lelouch had asked him to carry, realizing what it had. "Oh."

"Don't play games with me, boy. Do you even have the cash?" the noble asked, shaking himself back into form. In response, Lelouch snapped his fingers, and Rivalz quickly handed him the briefcase. Lelouch wordlessly entered the 4-digit passcode before it opened, turning it around and presenting a case filled with 100-pound notes.

"There is my half of the bet." Lelouch casually presented the funds to the man, who shut his mouth before he said something foolish. But now that he saw that the boy at least appeared to have the means to back up his words, he would be hard-pressed to refuse.

"Lelouch, this is insane. What if we lose?" Rivalz asked, knowing Lelouch made some serious bank gambling, but that didn't mean he could just lose that sort of cash and not be affected by it.

Lelouch turned to him, a confident smirk on his face. "You can let me handle the fallout if things came to that, but I'm sure that for a nobleman, such an amount is but a drop in the bucket. After all, our betters are known for their vast wealth. It would be embarrassing if such an amount was out of the means of someone of high birth, almost as bad as them fearing losing to a mere schoolboy."

The man's eyebrow twitched in irritation at the brat's words. How dare he imply that he couldn't match him. He was noble; his birth made him superior to such commoner filth, his family wealth stretched back as far as his great-grandfather, and while they had fallen from the highs they enjoyed under his father, he would be damned if he was shamed for that by a boy young enough to be his son.

"You would dare," the man growled before stopping and taking a breath to reign in his fury. If the boy wanted to play with fire, then they could play; he just better not beg when he got burned.

Snapping his fingers, one of his men brought out two briefcases and presented their contents. "Alright, it seems that you're too young to understand when you're speaking with your betters and the consequences of writing cheques you can't honor. Do you want to change the bet? Very well, but I also demand that turns be cut down to just 10 seconds and that wager be doubled from your proposed amount." The noble stretched out his hand so they may shake on it.

Much to his ire, the boy didn't buckle in the face of such harsh terms; if anything, his eyes reveled in the challenge. "Those are agreeable terms," Lelouch replied as he took the man's offered hand and squeezed just a bit as they shook on it, cementing the deal. His foe never realized that Lelouch wasn't happy with the challenge; he was pleased with the massive payday he was due to earn.

Far from the private bar, students were relaxing at the school whose uniform they wore, as they enjoyed their lunch period. Many of them had decided to take advantage of the pleasant weather to sit with friends outside, either on the lawn, the stairs, or one of the many seats or benches provided.

"Where's Lelouch? " a young woman asked. She was in a group of three that, like many, were seated out enjoying the day. While the summer had come and gone, it was still early enough into the fall that it was still green and warm outside.

"He went somewhere with Rivalz." Another replied, to which the first girl chuckled.

"Maybe it's poker this time." Wouldn't that be an interesting take? Lelouch and Rivalz met some characters while on their advantages, and Rivalz was always eager to share them, much to the annoyance of the teachers whose classes they skipped to have said espadas.

"They seem to forget they're on the student council." The second girl waved her fork to the rest, a little tomato on the end, as a frown formed on her pretty face. Her height was hard to say, as she and the other three were seated, but what could be said was that she was a nice-looking young lady with a healthy tan and long orange hair that reached her hips, with two small strands on both sides are tied together in a ponytail with yellowish-green eyes that at the moment, were less than pleased with their missing classmates.

Like the rest, she wore the girl's version of their uniform, which consisted of a canary yellow jacket with gold trim and black cuffs, a white long-sleeved shirt, a dark green tie with the school logo, a short black shirt with navy blue knee socks, and black shoes.

She continued her tirade against their classmates' improper behavior: "They're off gambling for money. Lulu might be smart, but he wastes his brain on stupid things. If he put half as much effort into his studies as he did into skipping classes and going, do who knows what, he could be in the top three in the grade. Instead, he seems content to maintain 8th place!"

"Oh, I wish my darling Lulu would be a serious young man, or maybe you're angry that he doesn't focus as much energy on you." Her friend, a fair-skinned girl with short, wavy blonde hair and clear blue eyes, teased her, which caused the orange-haired girl to blush in embarrassment.

"President!" She went red at the joke. The last of their number, the smallest, spoke up.

"I…I don't think it's that he can't do both. It's just that he doesn't have any interest in classes." Unlike her friends, who seemed to take a vested interest in their appearances, hers was much more subdued, her dark green hair cut short more for practicality than a fashion statement. However, she did have two long braids lining downwards and over her shoulders. Her face was partly covered by the large round glasses she wore over her indigo eyes. At the same time, her shoulders remained slumped, nervous for something that might never come.

Her more extroverted friend didn't push on this, but it wasn't like the quiet girl was necessarily wrong. "You mean like you and any of the non-science stuff?"

The spectacled girl looked away, a little embarrassed but also miffed at the reminder. "I just don't see much point in studying literature or history…"

Rivalz laughed so hard that he bent over, holding his stomach. Even the manager let out a few chuckles as the noble, who had been so arrogant and confident, stormed out of the bar with his tail between his legs and his money still where he left it.

The game was over, as Lelouch had managed to not just defeat but destroy him. The man had no choice but to topple his king when he saw that he had only three other pieces in play, and Lelouch got him in checkmate, having only lost three additional pieces since he took over for the first man.

"This isn't over, Lamperouge! I'll make you pay for this!" the man yelled, pressing the button on the elevator panel so hard one could fear he could break it. But the door still closed, and Rivalz and Mr. Walter's laughter was the last thing he heard from them. His opponent did not even glance at him after his victory; instead, he counted his winnings.

"Oh, man, did you see the look on his face? Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could make money off a shot like that." Rivalz managed to get his laughter under control as Lelouch nearly finished counting the cash. He didn't believe that he would be ripped off, as nobles were a bunch that, while more parasites, lived and died off reputation. Bad enough that the owner and CEO of a struggling arms manufacturer lost to a teenager; it would be much worse if people could credibly call him dishonest and unfaithful in his dealings.

Lelouch knew all that, but one could never be too careful. He had long since developed a habit of erring on the side of caution when he could. When it came to his finances, he would sooner sing praise to the emperor than not double-check.

The adult in the room also stopped laughing, though his good mood remained. "Once again, I thank you for your aide, Mr. Lamperouge. If you hadn't shown up, I would have had difficulty explaining things to the owner."

"I merely followed the terms of our agreement, speaking of those terms," Lelouch set aside some of the winnings and handed it to the man. As promised, it was 45% of the winnings, which should have been 13,500 pounds if the deal had remained the same, but now it was a jaw-dropping 81,000 pounds.

Lelouch would take off the lion's share, 99,000 pounds in cash. "Your cut. Now, if you will excuse us, we do need to get back to school to catch our afternoon classes." With that, the two left with Rivalz waving goodbye as they went, asking him to remember them if he ever needed help again.

It was only as he counted the money himself that Mr. Walter realized that his amount wasn't 81K, but Lelouch had added another 20K from his own winnings. Seeing that, the middle-aged man couldn't help but chuckle. "That boy's kinder than he lets on."

With the two, as Mr. Walter counted the cash left for him, they got off the elevator into the lobby of the building and walked towards the doors. "Man, I love seeing you play against the nobility; it doesn't matter how high you get them to agree; they always pay out of pride. By the way, 8 minutes 32 seconds is a new record. Honestly, it was like you weren't even trying." Rivalz commented with a laugh.

Lelouch smiled while revealing another sly fox-like grin. He didn't deny that he habitually baited his foes into increasing the bets. "I do enjoy seeing the faces they make when they realize just how out of their league they are; it's almost worth offering to challenge them for pennies," He held up one of his two briefcases. "Almost."

Still, while he would be leaving after making more money in 10 minutes than most commoners made in 2 years, he wasn't in it solely for the money. "But there's just no challenge in it anymore. They're predictable overprivileged parasites that assume the skills and accolades of their ancestors naturally are their own. If I keep playing them, my skills might dull like a sword never properly used or cared for."

"Well then, why don't you challenge one of the Elevens? They're nothing like us Britannians." Rivalz ran up to be in front, looking back at Lelouch as they walked.

"Oh," Lelouch sounded but didn't say more. Rivalz was about to ask what was up with him when they heard commotion around them. Looking up, Rivalz saw that people were looking up at one of the jumbo screens installed on the side of the building. It was still displaying the news about the terrorist bombing earlier that day.

Rivalz frowned at the news, a sadness shared by others who asked aloud how the Elevens could target innocent people and what they hoped to gain from such violence. Lelouch remained silent, his face passive as he watched and listened, whatever thoughts he had on the issue locked away deep in his mind.

Though when he heard a woman question what needless violence like that could bring, he couldn't help but smirk at the hypocritical question, smirk where no one could see him was all he did, as he had long gotten used to such.

"We apologize for the delay. His royal highness, Prince Clovis, 3rd Prince of the realm and Viceroy of Area 11, will now address the nation." The new feed changed from the still-burning building to a live feed of their Viceroy, who stood in front of the proudly framed Britannian flag on the wall.

He was handsome, definitely living up to the trope of a prince charming. He had excellently done blonde hair that fell behind his shoulders, with just a well-prepared piece falling between his deep blue eyes. However, his features hardened as the situation called for it. He stood before the cameras and Britannia in his elegant purple silks and a white cape.

"To all my imperial subjects!" Clovis started, with Lelouch's gaze sharpening with bored intrigue, having been amused if a little disinterested gaze before.

He wasn't the only one watching as in the truck; the two figures in workers' uniforms watched as well. "Including, of course, the many cooperative Elevens that chose to serve the empire of Britannia." He opened his arms as if to embrace them, but all that got from the two in the truck was bitter rage.

"We're not Elevens, we're Japanese!" The one in the passenger seat growled back in Japanese, though Clovis would never hear her, nor would he care if he did.

"Do you not see my pain? My heart is ripped in two by such tragedies and loss of life? The remnants are filled with rage and sadness," Clovis gripped his chest, his face pained yet resolute. Lelouch would say it was a fantastic showing of empathy and strength if he believed it was genuine. "However, despite my grief and anger, I will not yield to terrorism! For our fight is just one, a virtuous battle to protect the well-being of one and all!"

Lelouch had already lost interest in what the Prince had to say and turned to leave. Now, I ask that all of you join me in an observance for the 8 who tragically lost their lives today." As the Prince bowed his head, and many others on the street did the same, Lelouch made his way over to their ride back to school, Rivalz's bike, which had a sidecar for him, his friend close behind him.

As he paid for the parking, Rivalz got the bike ready. "Well, aren't you going to join in?"

Lelouch turned it out on him as the barrier that kept their bike from leaving retreated into the street, the fee paid. "Why haven't you?"

"It's sort of embarrassing," Rivalz replied after he let out a bashful chuckle.

Lelouch, ticket in hand, smirked at him. "I agree. Besides thoughts and prayers? Moments of silence? Such things mean nothing to the dead, only action and whatever results are born from that do."

"Damn, that's pretty deep, if a little dark." Rivalz whistled back at him and fixed his goggles into place.

Lelouch let out a breath. "It's the truth. Such actions are for self-satisfaction, a means for someone to do nothing and still feel good about themselves. I loathe such behavior." He looked towards the screen, and the crowds, his face developing a dark look before it passed just as fast as Rivalz handed him the spare helmet and goggles, none the wiser to the broken look of rage his friend just had when faced with the situation.

Within the Viceroy's palace, which also served as the administrative headquarters for Area 11, the cameras shut off. Once he was given the go-ahead, the Viceroy dropped the act and walked off the little stage he had been standing on, a footman silently approaching to remove the cape from his shoulders.

"You were magnificent, your highness. One could never guess you were attending a party while doing that." One of his guests praised him. True to their word, he was in one of the many ballrooms in the viceroy building, along with two dozen other people, all of whom were of wealth and status in Area 11.

Clovis reacted to the praise like a confident peacock. "After all, the Viceroy is the marque actor in Area 11. I need to be able to switch costumes quickly." He replied, "What did it matter if he was enjoying himself then? Would his private and public mourning help the situation in Osaka? Of course not, but people tend to get so emotional about such trivial things that he put on an act.

Another one of his guests, one he was quite familiar with, let out a low chuckle into her hand. "My, quite confident, are you."

Clovis thought she would be one of the many lovely ladies who would be well aware that he had plenty of reasons to be confident in himself. But it would be quite improper to bring up such intimate details in a setting like this; he would leave such brutish behavior for his less civilized siblings.

"It's all in the performance. If the media wish for a charismatic prince, I give them one." He glanced to the side, where the CEO of the Area's largest media station stood, having been invited to attend the party.

The heavyset man was quick to dismiss any unfounded implications. "Untrue, your Highness. Our key purpose is to support your reign in any way we can." His two assistants, both pretty people, smiled, along with their bosses. However, one of them, a man not dressed for a party like this but instead dressed in attire that was more business than anything else, had other thoughts about such an utter lack of impartiality from Area 11's chief media group.

'His reign is a sham propped up by lies and idiots.' The blonde man thought but didn't dare voice it as, despite his misgivings, he wasn't about to give them a reason to arrest him or have him disappear. So reluctantly but diligently, he would read up the script that had been written for the evening special on the Osaka bombing, one which he suspected had more over-exaggerations and patriotic zeal than truth.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard something rushing in. Looking on, he saw it was another heavyset man, larger than his boss and balding. He wore a monocle and an officer's uniform, which left him perplexed. 'A soldier?'

"Your Highness!" The man called out to Clovis, sweaty and already out of breath from what the unnamed critic hoped was a much longer run than he had seen.

"How boorish of you, Bartley. Can't you see I'm entertaining some guests?" Clovis asked and dismissed the man in equal measure; Batley, for his part, bowed his head to him, wiping at his forehead to keep the sweat back.

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but my lord." Whatever was said was too softly for the critic or the rest of the guests to hear, but considering who the messenger was, he could only imagine that there was another incident.

"Not another appearance, I hope it's not as dreary." The critic thought aloud as he turned to leave, as his presence wasn't necessary-

"You fool!" Clovis's raised voice stopped him. The Prince rarely lost his temper in such a manner, as he had seen and heard what he was like, but this wasn't him being upset that it leaked that he slept with a noblewoman a decade his senior. That wasn't flattering, but it peppered out of the news and general conversation by the end of that weekend, juicy gossip but little in the way of news.

This sounded different and angrier, but also had a hint of…fear? Paying closer attention, he could see that Bartley's sweat wasn't from the run, but he was incredibly nervous about whatever he had reported.

Between the two, Bartley kept his voice down as he continued to report. "The police were told it's just medical equipment, that's all, but if we scramble the army, they'll be a record-"

"Deploy the royal guard! The knightmares as well." Clovis interrupted him, his face having lost that carefree amusement he had moments ago. Instead, he was a man on a mission. Bartley was quick to carry out his orders. Within minutes, the orders had been given to the 4th, 7th, and 8th rapid reaction companies to deploy, with the 31st air support teams to scramble.

Of the knightmare pilots suiting up and silently getting their units, many belonged to the Purist fraction who, even without clear orders of what they were being deployed to do, didn't dare question their Viceroy and a royal family member. All they knew was that they would carry out their orders to the fullest of their abilities, no matter what.

Even as forces mobilized, Lelouch and Rivalz, much like most of the settlement, were none the wiser to any of it. Why would they when things remained peaceful around them? "Got a question, why the king?" Rivalz asked, the two riding down the road. There was little traffic in their way, meaning they could return to school with time to spare.

"Pardon?" Lelouch looked up from the book he was reading, Rivalz spying on the name of the cover and nearly rolling his eyes when he saw it was a work of Voltaire.

"That first move you made earlier, why'd you start with the king?" Rivalz asked, as while he would not call himself well versed in chess, he knew enough to know that one should only move their king when needed.

"A king must lead by example; else how can he expect those he leads to follow?" Lelouch replied as simply as if he was commenting on the weather.

"That's a pretty grandiose thing to say; you fantasize about running a major corporation one day?" Rivalz asked though he wondered how someone who avoided class as much as Lelouch would function in such an environment.

Lelouch laughed at the question. "As if such ambitions breed enemies, and I have enough on my plate with the soccer club." Rivalz laughed with him, or at least he was before they earned a loud horn behind them; turning back, they saw a massive truck coming right from there.

"What the hell! They're gonna hit us!" Rivalz cried out, nearly pissing his pants in fear as the multi-ton truck came ever closer.

Inside that same truck, its occupants had no desire to take their lives. "You idiot! Watch where you're going!" The driver yelled as he tried to turn to avoid them, turning the wheel to the left.

"No, not that way!" the other person yelled, but it was too late. As the turn had become, if they tried to change it, they could easily tip over.

"To the right, the right!" Lelouch yelled Rivalz, getting his panicking friend to move before they both ended up as road kill. They made a hard turn to the side, crossing into the opposite lane. The truck drove down a road that led into a thankfully vacant construction site, crashing through some piles of steel and bags of concrete before slamming into the side of the unfinished building.

Rivalz, bringing them to a stop, looked towards where the truck had loudly crashed, seeing the dust cloud rising from it. "Was that our fault?"

"Considering they were going over the speed limit, I would assume no." Lelouch frowned, irritation overpowering any sort of compassion for the other people as they had nearly been killed because someone couldn't be bothered to follow the rules of the road? Ridiculous.

Overhead, the VTOL that had been following the truck reported the crash and its location. When he was told to back down because Bartley had taken command, he voiced confusion. Why would the military be concerned with a simple theft of medical supplies? Despite his confusion, he didn't voice his issues and followed orders.

Bartley, for his part, had left Clovis to take command of the situation, an unusual move as his position meant he didn't need to do so, not when he had subordinates that could handle the issue. But he had to be the one to handle it; those subordinates couldn't be trusted with this. 'We have to retrieve it at all costs. That…thing can't be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.'

As Bartley picked up the pace, Lelouch approached the guardrail on the road. Through the dust, he thought he saw some green glitter-like dust emanating from the truck. "What the?" he asked as he removed his helmet if that was just a trick of the light or evidence of the truck's cargo.

"Man, this sucks; it looks like the powerline on the bike was cut." Rivalz relayed to him. His focus was on their ride back to school. Lelouch's attention remained on the truck, and the strange glitter, which didn't dissipate but formed into the shape of…something he didn't know, vanished before he could adequately study it.

"Rivalz, you might want to see this."

"Hey, check it out." Lelouch turned his attention to see that others had seen the crush. They talked about it, what had happened, why it happened, and all other useless babel. His ire grew when not a single person moved to help. It didn't even look like they called in help; they just took pictures and videos on their phones.

"Idiotic sheep, the lot of them." He muttered under his breath, despising that herd mentality of thinking someone else would act, so why should I? Even when one could only look around and see none had moved to help, they couldn't or wouldn't break from such a moronic choice of inaction.

He refused to be like that as, without a word, he took off his goggles and tossed them to the Rivalz, who just barely caught them; Rivalz looked up just in time to see Lelouch jump the guardrail. Falling some meters, he landed with a roll, got up without issue, and ran to help, ignoring Rivalz calling out to him and the rest of the people commenting that he was moving. Damn fools, if they disapproved of a schoolboy lending aid, perhaps they should take his place.

Inside the driver's compartment, the two occupants slowly came to, the airbags having saved them from what could have easily been serious injuries. The two slowly remembered what had happened outside, the redhead being the first to come as she looked towards the driver to get him back on the same page.

Lelouch ran to the front and saw that the vehicle didn't look damaged. The steel beam leaning on it would certainly be too heavy for him, but if the vehicle was still in good shape, perhaps they could drive themselves out of it. "Hey, can you hear me!" He knocked on the side door a few times, but even when he repeated his question, louder each time, there was no response.

With that route closed, Lelouch needed another means to get to them, which could be getting inside. The side door was clearly shut, and the other was blocked off by the steel beam, but lucky for him, there was a ladder on the side, so odds here, there was a way in from the top, and he didn't see any obstructions before he came down.

He would be alone in this, as Rivalz had no choice but to stay with the bike. In its damaged condition, they would have to push it to the nearest gas station and hope they could handle the repair. Either way, his good mood was ruined, as there was no way in hell they would be making it back in time now.

"Yeah, I know it's the right thing to do, but I wish he wouldn't flaunt his pride around all the damn time." He groaned as this would be just trouble as he got the bike back into the right lane. Hopefully, Lelouch would finish with whatever he was doing and get back to him, as two people pushing would be better than just one.

"Nagata, Nagata, get it together." The redhead nudged the other, who grumbled before opening his eyes and shaking his head to clear the spots from his vision. "We gotta go; we're exposed like this."

Outside, Lelouch had just gotten to the top and opened the hatch he found. He was about to call out again when-"It's you." Like a bullet to the head, a voice pierced into his mind, but it was different, so different. It was calm, coherent, and…relieved to speak with him? They were never any of those things-"I finally found my-" As soon as it started, it was gone, but it didn't feel like it was just swallowed into the maelstrom but vanished as if it was never there.

His contemplations about what he might have heard ceased when, without warning, the truck moved, reversing back out of the building, the shifts causing him to fall into the open hatch. He squeaked out a curse but managed to roll with the fall and not land on his back, but now he found himself in a new mess. "Stop, I'm in here!" His yell went unheard as the driver shifted gears and drove down the dark underpass, leaving Rivalz and the rest to watch it vanish with Lelouch as an unwitting passenger.

"Was…that a hit and run or an accidental kidnapping?" Rivalz asked him.

And we are done! Good God, that was a long chapter, and we're not halfway into the episode. Hell, I didn't even get through a third of my notes for chapter 1. Seeing how I have about 26 chapters planned, I can see this being a project that lasts a long time.

Now, I understand that much of this happens in the show. Typically, I would exclude it as it can easily be read as a filler. Still, I tried my best to restructure how it's written to help sell that this world is different from canon. From how the nameless narrator we know is C.C. highlighting how it wasn't just through knightmares that Britannia won, Lelouch's declaration, which, along with other parts of the chapter, hint that there is more going on with him, etc.

But the chapter name covers things quite well, as it fits the idea that most of the important characters make their introductions. It also follows a theme that I have for the story regarding characters and how they see themselves and how they themselves are seen.

That said, I am sticking to a word limit, just the largest one of any of my regular stories, as this would be working with a limit of around 8.2k words, which is almost 2000 more than The Demon Reigns and 3000 More than any of my MHA stuff.

The next chapter will be out on Novermber 29th.

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