Summary: Decisions are made, Knightmares are put to the test, and Lelouch edges closer to securing a new ally. However, just as his plans take shape, Salem's forces begin their advance.
Drifting through the harsh Solitas snow, four Knighmares made their way across the landscape, their movements precise and controlled, leaving deep tracks in their wake. The surrounding terrain was barren, the trees stripped bare and frost-covered, casting an almost otherworldly atmosphere over the scene. Above, the sky loomed grey and oppressive, heavy with the threat of more snowfall.
Bianca, nestled within her Sutherland Paladin, exhaled deliberately, her breath forming a faint mist in the cold cockpit. Her fingers danced over the controls, maneuvering her unit with practiced ease. "Training or not," she mused aloud, her voice carrying the tell-tale edge of anticipation, "this feels more like an actual mission." A hint of amusement colored her words as a small grin tugged at her lips.
Ivy, in her Knightmare, responded with a sharp laugh, her tone laced with eagerness. "Yeah, I'm itching to see what these beasts can do. The simulations were impressive, but there's nothing quite like field testing." Her voice was tinged with an almost feral excitement, a hunger for action that was unmistakable.
Roane's voice cut through the chatter, firm and grounding. "Stay focused. This is serious. We're not just dealing with random targets here; we're preparing to engage actual threats." She adjusted her controls, the movement of her Sutherland Paladin echoing her resolve.
A chuckle from Ruda filled the comms, a hint of amusement in her tone. "Relax, Roane. I think we've all got a good handle on these new toys. Pretty soon, we'll be ready to take on the world." She maneuvered her unit forward, a slight waver in its step betraying the machine's unfamiliarity with its pilot. "Though gotta say," she added, her voice slightly strained, "getting the hang of this is gonna take some time."
Ivy's laugh rang out again, this time tinged with a touch of smugness. "You're just upset you won't be doing your usual acrobatic nonsense in one of these, huh?"
Bianca sighed lightly, her fingers tapping a light rhythm against her console. "Can we keep the banter to a minimum? We've got a mission to focus on here." Her tone was firm yet patient, a subtle reminder of the seriousness of their situation. "We're nearing the negative orb's deployment coordinates."
As the four Knightmares approached the designated location, the landscape shifted subtly. The snow beneath their feet gave way to a more rugged, uneven terrain, and the barren trees grew sparse, their gnarled branches reaching upward like skeletal hands.
Bianca's Sutherland took point, its sensors scanning the area as they moved forward. "Alright," she announced, her voice taking on a more serious edge, "everyone, keep your eyes peeled. We don't know what kind of opposition we're going to face. Roane, stay on my six. Ruda, Ivy, you cover our flanks. Let's do this right."
The others echoed their affirmatives, their units moving into formation with practiced precision.
As they advanced, a Megoliath and a pack of Beowolves were seen circling the deployed device, guarding the Negative Orb in the distance.
The Grimm turned towards the approaching Sutherlands, the Megoliath's massive body lumbering forward to meet the new threat, the pack fanning out around it in a clear display of aggression.
"Looks like we've got their attention," Bianca remarked dryly. She adjusted her controls, the Sutherland's weapons humming to life. "Let's show them what these Knightmares can do." With that, she sped forward, leading the charge.
Roane moved in sync with Bianca, her Sutherland's Landspinners spinning up, carving a path through the snow and ice. Ivy and Ruda broke off, their units flanking the central duo, their movements a well-coordinated dance of metal and firepower.
As the first Beowolf leaped forward, Bianca's Sutherland reacted with surprising speed. Tonfas swung out, their edges glowing with energy, slicing through the Grimm with a clean, efficient motion. The beast evaporated into a cloud of dark smoke, but there was no time to celebrate as another took its place.
"Watch your flanks!" Bianca shouted, her voice echoing over the comms.
Ivy's unit rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a Megoliath's heavy stomp. Twirling her joystick, she deftly shot a slash harken, the projectile slamming into the massive Grimm's side anchoring itself. Then, with a press of a trigger, Ivy engaged the retraction, pulling her Knightmare forward into a swift, low kick. The blow hit solid, and the Megoliath stumbled back.
Roane's Sutherland was a blur, its Landspinners carving deep furrows in the snow as she weaved between the Beowolves. Dust-infused machine gun fire rained down from her Knightmare, cutting a swath through the pack.
"Keep the pressure up!" Roane urged. "We can't let them get organized!"
Bianca's unit lunged at a nearby Beowolf, its tonfas flashing in the dim light. "Don't worry about that," she grunted, her Knightmare sending the Grimm tumbling back with a powerful strike. "Just keep moving!"
The Megoliath, recovering from Ivy's attack, roared in defiance, charging towards Bianca's unit. Ruda, recognizing the opportunity, moved swiftly. Shooting two slash harkens from her unit's forearms, she struck the Megoliath on its large tusk from the side, causing the giant to stumble and crash to the ground.
"Bullseye!" Ruda whooped, her triumphant shout echoing over the comms.
The four Knightmares converged on the fallen Megoliath, their coordinated assault relentless. A mix of rocket launcher and assault rifle fire rained down on the creature, its thick hide smoldering under the onslaught.
As the dust settled, black smoke rose from the fallen Megoliath, its body dissolving into nothingness. Around them, the last of the Beowolves fell to the ground, their forms disintegrating into the ether.
Bianca exhaled deeply, her eyes scanning the area. "Is that the last of them?"
Ivy's unit moved to stand next to her, the cockpit hatch opening with a hiss. The green-haired girl leaned out, surveying the aftermath. "Looks like it." She smirked. "And not a scratch on us. Not bad for a training mission."
Ruda's voice cut in, her tone light. "Training? I think we just proved these Knightmares are ready for the real deal. This was a cakewalk."
Roane's unit stood nearby, the other woman's voice carrying a note of caution. "Don't underestimate the Grimm. Just because we handled these doesn't mean we can afford to be careless." Her eyes were fixed on the distant, ominous shape of the Negative Orb, its dark aura a stark contrast to the surrounding snow. "Let's destroy the evidence and report back to the Colonel."
"Roger that," Bianca confirmed, her Sutherland's armament shifting, aiming towards the Negative Orb. The other three Knightmares followed suit, their cannons trained on the device. With a synchronized squeeze of their triggers, a barrage of gunfire and missiles erupted, reducing the artifact to scattered, burning fragments in an instant.
As the smoke cleared, Bianca turned her Sutherland around, leading the group back the way they came. "Alright team, mission accomplished. The nearest Crystal Nexus is two clicks north. Let's move out."
With a unanimous affirmative, the four Sutherlands departed, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The landscape fell silent once more as the snow began to fall, obscuring their tracks and erasing the signs of conflict that had just unfolded.
Weiss sighed heavily, her hand resting on the door to her sister's office within the Atlas Academy. The white-haired girl hesitated for a moment before rapping her knuckles firmly against the wooden surface. A soft yet authoritative voice resonated from the other side. "Enter."
Pushing the door open, she stepped into the room. Her sister, Winter, looked through documents at her desk, a stack of paperwork in front of her. She looked up, her eyes locking onto her younger sibling's.
"Weiss," Winter acknowledged her, surprised by the unexpected visit. "What brings you here?"
"I..." Weiss paused, uncertain how to broach the topic she'd come to discuss. "The Colonel invited me to accompany him to our estate... to see mother... and father."
Winter's expression hardened, her brows drawing together. "I see," she responded curtly, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest.
Weiss fidgeted, her discomfort evident. "I wanted to ask your opinion. Do you... think it's a good idea?" Her words were hesitant, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
A heavy silence lingered in the air between them for several long moments, the only sound the gentle rustling of paper as Winter shifted a file on her desk. Then, she met Weiss' gaze, her eyes searching.
"This isn't about that man we call a father, is it?" she finally asked, her voice steady, her eyes unwavering. She gestured to the seat opposite her, an invitation. "Sit, Weiss."
Weiss stepped forward, settling into the offered chair, her posture straight and poised, a mirror of her sister's composure.
"No," the younger sister admitted, her gaze falling to her lap before returning to meet Winter's. "It's about the Colonel. He's... been kind to me, respectful, but I just want to make sure he's not taking advantage of me, that he's truly genuine."
Winter leaned back, regarding Weiss thoughtfully. After another pause, she spoke. "He's never given me any reason to think he's insincere in his actions." Her fingers tapped idly on the armrest of her chair, a soft rhythm. "But he is an ambitious man, I've come to realize. Men like him always have plans."
Weiss nodded slowly, absorbing Winter's words. "So... should I trust him? Or should I be wary?"
Winter exhaled, her expression thoughtful. "My advice is this: maintain a healthy skepticism. Don't blindly trust him, but don't outright reject his goodwill. There's a fine line to walk here, Weiss."
The younger sister bit her lip, mulling over her sister's counsel. The air between them hung heavy with the weight of their shared history, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges they'd faced as Schnee women in the harsh landscape of their family's legacy.
Winter rose from her chair, pacing to the window overlooking the courtyard. She stood there for a moment, her back to Weiss, before turning around, her expression serious. "And take care around Father," she added, her voice carrying a quiet warning. "Don't let him get into your head. He's... manipulative. Always remember that."
Weiss met her sister's gaze and nodded again, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
The older woman approached Weiss, her steps measured, her hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "Remember, you're not the same girl who left this place. You're stronger, wiser. And you have something that our family never understood - true friends who have your back."
She paused, her gaze unwavering. "Keep that in mind when you see Father. Remember your strength, and don't let him undermine it."
Weiss's eyes softened, gratitude welling up within her. "Thank you, Winter," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
Winter offered a slight smile, a rarity that spoke volumes. "Stay safe, sister. And remember, you're a Schnee. Stand tall."
With those words hanging in the air, Weiss departed, leaving Winter to her thoughts in the solitude of her office.
Lelouch watched as Team BRIR disembarked from their respective Sutherlands, stepping onto the concrete floor of the hangar. A group of technicians swarmed around them, carefully checking over the Knightmares for any damage or anomalies. The hum of machinery filled the air, punctuated by the occasional shout or burst of static from a nearby radio.
Bianca stepped away from the crowd, her eyes searching for the Colonel. Lelouch stood a short distance away, his posture rigid, arms folded behind his back. As Bianca moved toward him, he inclined his head in greeting.
"Colonel," Bianca began, her tone respectful but tinged with the weariness of the mission. "Training went well. No complications...well besides it being cold in that tin can," She chuckled lightly at that, trying to lighten her mood.
"We'll make the necessary adjustments," Lelouch assured her, his voice steady and confident. He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the Sutherland Paladins before returning to Bianca. "What were your initial observations of the Negative Orb?" he asked, his tone shifting to one of curiosity.
Bianca frowned, her brow furrowing as she recalled the device they had been sent to destroy. "Well...it certainly drew a crowd. Grimm flocked to it like moths to a flame," she explained. "It seemed to amplify their aggression. But we handled it without too much trouble."
Lelouch nodded thoughtfully. It seemed he was going to ask more, but his scroll went off, causing the man to pause, his eyes flicking briefly to his pocket. With a subtle sigh, he pulled out the device and glanced at the screen, the caller ID displaying Weiss' name.
"So she's made a decision," he murmured, half to himself, a hint of anticipation in his voice. He turned away from Bianca, lifting the scroll to his ear. "Weiss," he greeted, his voice smooth and even. "What do I owe the pleasure?"
On the other end, Weiss' voice filtered through, clear but hesitant. "Colonel… I've considered your offer, and if it's still available, I accept."
"Excellent," Lelouch replied, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry about your father trying anything," his tone assured her. "In my presence, he won't dare to even think about it." He paused, then added, "However, I'll make a few preparations beforehand. Just to be safe."
He glanced over at Team BRIR as they dismounted from their Knightmares. "I'll arrange a transport," he continued. "We'll discuss the details tomorrow."
There was a pause on the line, then a soft exhale. "Thank you, Colonel," Weiss said, her voice carrying a weight of gratitude.
Lelouch nodded. "Of course," he replied, his tone sincere. "I'll see you soon."
With that, the call ended, and Lelouch turned his attention back to the hangar, his gaze sweeping over the Sutherlands with a sense of satisfaction. There was much to prepare, but first, there were tasks at hand to be completed. The gears of his plan were in motion and he intended to keep the momentum going.
A dozen monitors varying in size and shape bathed the dimly lit room in a soft, ethereal glow. Each screen showcased a different image, all meticulously selected by the room's sole occupant—Arthur Watts. Seated in an expensive, high-backed leather chair, his fingers danced across a customized keyboard with practiced ease.
With a flourish, he pulled up a video feed on the largest monitor, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and amusement. A pre-recorded segment played out: Lelouch, standing at the Atlas Academy rally podium, exuded confidence as he addressed a large crowd. His words, carefully crafted, resonated with the audience.
Watts watched intently, his analytical mind dissecting every word, every gesture. He studied the reactions of the crowd, noting the shifts in their expressions, the murmurs of approval. A smirk played on his lips. "Fascinating," he murmured to himself, pausing the video to scrutinize a freeze-frame of the young Colonel. "To think a mere child could command such attention…"
He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "But this is no mere child, is it?" he pondered aloud. "No, there's something more here—something intriguing."
He swiveled his chair around, the screens throwing an eerie glow onto his face. His gaze flicked between the various monitors, each displaying different aspects of Lelouch's public persona.
One monitor revealed Lelouch walking beside Ironwood, the General's usually stern expression softened into a semblance of camaraderie. Another showed him in a formal suit at a gala event, his posture impeccable, his demeanor poised. A third monitor played a speech, his voice resonating with conviction as he outlined the virtues of a unified Remnant.
"Such a complex puzzle you are, Colonel," Watts mused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Ambitious, charismatic, and... Yet you waste so much of that time and potential pandering to these simpletons. Why?" He paused, his gaze lingering on the freeze-frame of Lelouch. "What is your game?"
A window behind Watts slowly opened, letting in a gentle breeze that stirred the curtains, a hint of the outside world encroaching upon his solitary space. The sound of distant city life filtered in, a stark contrast to the silent intensity of the room.
Entering through the open window, Tyrian Callows dropped noiselessly onto the plush carpet, his movements a deadly ballet of grace and stealth. His wild hair framed a grinning face, his golden eyes alight with a predatory gleam.
Watts didn't acknowledge him immediately, absorbed in the screens before him. It was only when the clicking of Tyrian's boots grew louder that he turned, his expression mildly annoyed.
"You're early, Tyrian," Watts stated flatly, his gaze lingering on the screens for a moment longer before fully turning to face the Faunus.
Tyrian's grin widened, his voice a lilting taunt. "Eager to please, Dr. Watts. So eager," he chittered, his tone laced with a manic edge. He leaned forward, a mere breath away from Watts' face, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Are we not kindred spirits in our devotion to a common cause?"
Watts sneered, his lip curling in distaste. He met Tyrian's gaze evenly, his disdain thinly veiled. "I serve a higher purpose. You serve your... urges." His tone dripped with contempt.
Tyrian giggled, a high-pitched, unsettling sound that cut through the room. "Oh, but aren't they the same, dear doctor? The ecstasy of chaos, the thrill of the blade. We both revel in our work, do we not?" He leaned back, his body language a chaotic dance of anticipation.
Watts sighed, visibly annoyed. He reached for a glass on his desk, swirling the dark liquid within. "Your theatrics are tiring, Tyrian. But I just might have a use for you, if you can contain yourself long enough to listen."
At this, Tyrian's demeanor shifted. His grin morphed into a smirk, his eyes narrowing in predatory focus. He canted his head to one side, a gesture of feigned innocence. "Oh, is a meeting with that Jacques fellow not on the agenda anymore?"
Watts' expression darkened. "Jacques is a mere pawn, a tool to be exploited. No, I have far more... interesting plans in motion."
He gestured towards the screens, each still displaying a different facet of Lelouch's public image. "Meet the esteemed Colonel Lelouch Lamperouge, a man who has managed to become the darling of the Atlas elite. He's young, influential, and," his voice dipped lower, a hint of intrigue weaving through his words, "doesn't exist."
A holographic display flickered to life between them, a glowing rendition of a chessboard appearing mid-air. Watts moved a rook, the piece gliding smoothly across the digital plane. "His presence is an enigma, a void that should not be. Every trace of his existence is carefully fabricated a masterful illusion." Watts leaned back, a smug smile on his face as he eyed his newest pawn in the making.
Tyrian's attention snapped to the hologram, his eyes widening in childlike fascination. "Oh? A phantom, you say?" He clapped his hands together, his laughter high-pitched and erratic. "How delightfully macabre."
Watts' finger hovered over the bishop, and with a slight push, it slid into place, his eyes never leaving Tyrian's manic face. "Indeed, it's a rather clever ruse. Yet, he has managed to ensnare even the General and the Academy's most esteemed. A feat that requires a certain... skill." He paused, letting the word hang in the air. "It's a game within a game, one I intend to win."
The display shifted, pieces moving autonomously, orchestrating a silent battle of strategy and deceit. Tyrian watched, captivated, his grin never faltering.
"And this is where you come in," Watts continued, his gaze fixing on the Faunus. "Your role will be... pivotal in bringing this chess match to a checkmate."
Tyrian's laughter filled the room, high-pitched and maniacal. His golden eyes gleamed with anticipation, reflecting the glow of the holographic chessboard. "Oh, Watts," he purred, his voice dripping with sadistic delight. "When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" He leaned forward, his face a mask of insanity and joy. "I simply adore games. Especially those that end in screams and bloodshed."
Watts sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. He took a deliberate sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving the screens before him. "Your penchant for violence is a crude tool at best, Tyrian. It lacks finesse and subtlety. But sometimes," his lips curled into a smirk, a small, dark thing in the dim light of the room, "it's just what the doctor ordered."
Author's Notes: I've been dealing with a lot of issues on this site lately, so if anything happens- or if you just prefer reading on A03-you can find all my stories under the same name.