"All units, I've got eyes on the Peace Mark - situation update, the Princess has been taken hostage by an Eleven!"

Captain Kewell Soresi smiled grimly, his eyes all but shining with determination. "With Prince Clovis having become unreliable before his untimely demise, we need a new patron and figurehead in order to keep Britannia on its proper course. Though the cost is regrettable, our actions now are necessary to ensure that, at long last, General Cornelia is properly swayed to our cause! Make no mistake, my brothers and sisters in arms; on this day, we! The Purebloods! Are kicking open the door to a brighter era for our great Empire!"

"The Empire doesn't negotiate with terrorists!"

Those words should have preceded the shot to ensure Blood-Purist political supremacy in Britannia for decades to come.

What followed it instead was an unfathomably loud impact, leading to an outcry of shock and the unmistakable sound of crumbling architecture until the transmission abruptly dissolved into static and then cut out.

"What the - Chevinsky?! What the hell happened, Officer?! Damn it, Chevinsky, report!"

As the designated radio operator kept trying to re-establish contact, Kewell hopped into his custom Sutherland and ran through its initial start-up procedures. "Direct another pair of Knightpolice to investigate his location; should they run into trouble, I'll be deploying with Hope Team. All hail Britannia!"

"ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!"

"You are dead," the commanding voice proclaimed as a small boy with black hair staggered away in shock.

"Wh… what?!"

"You have always been dead to me, from the moment you were born."

The Emperor of Britannia slowly stood from his throne; not because of any physical difficulty in doing so but to further emphasize the already crushing gravity of his presence.

"Who gave you the fine clothes you wear and your comfortable home?" he asked. "Who provided the food you eat? Your very life?"

Each question struck the boy as if it were the swing of a sledgehammer. "But-" But you're my father, he was no longer brave enough to say. Isn't all of that just natural to do for your own children?! Just like for all the others?!

"All of those," the Emperor continued, "I have given to you. In short, you are nothing to me because you have never existed. And yet you dare to speak such foolishness to me?! You march in here as if you matter and demand that I satisfy your inability to let go of old news?!"

Lelouch vi Britannia, seventh Prince and firstborn child of the Emperor's most beloved consort, was for the first time that he could remember, unable to even think.

Lelouch turned to his brothers and sisters in the throne room, desperately believing in his family to come to his defense. Even in whatever frightening, nonsensical mood had come over their father, the boy reasoned, surely the Emperor couldn't dismiss and be done with all of his children if they stood together at once?

Schneizel frowned and shook his head in dismay, while Odysseus bowed his own as if in prayer.

Clovis stared at the scene in shock, unable or unwilling to comprehend what his eyes beheld.

Euphemia opened her mouth to speak, and hope flared bright in Lelouch's heart. This is it! If Euphie can give everyone else the courage to speak up, then-

The boy never had a chance to finish that thought, as a wide-eyed Cornelia threw her hand over Euphemia's face to silence her sister and quietly fell to pieces, sobbing into the younger girl's shoulder.

"Lelouch."

Lelouch turned in answer to his name, his attention dragged back from the loved ones he had trusted to help him, and fell back in surprise as the massive Emperor loomed over him. "You are dead. Therefore, you are not entitled to any rights. I am sending you and Nunnally to Japan; as prince and princess, you will serve well as bargaining tools."

As a pair of Royal Guardsmen appeared and lifted Lelouch by his arms, carrying him out of the throne room, one sight pierced the fog of shock and betrayal that clouded his mind: that of his sister Merrybell, struck mute with grief and all but on the floor.

...I should have known all along what would happen, he realized.

Tears broke through, even as Lelouch swore to himself that at the very least, he would protect Nunnally. This isn't the first time-

"Lulu? C'mon sleepyhead, lunch starts in just a few minutes…!"

Lelouch ruthlessly suppressed his initial startled reaction, and made a small show of 'waking up'. That damned memory again… "Wha… Shirley?"

The auburn-haired girl grinned, leaning just slightly forward over Lelouch and conveniently offering him shade from the bright sunlight streaming through a high window. "Yep, that's me."

The young man 'sleepily' glanced around the empty art hall, before affecting a faint air of alarm and injecting some exasperation into his tone with a shake of his head. "Oh dear... don't tell me I slept through class again?"

"Well, you kind of did," Shirley admitted, "but since it made you a lot easier for the rest of us to draw you, the teacher let it slide this time. Now c'mon, we're gonna miss out on all the good stuff if we're late; you still seem a bit tired, so -"

The girl took a short breath. "I'd be happy to carry your books and stuff?"

Lelouch reached into the schoolbag at the base of his stool and retrieved a water bottle, before unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "I appreciate it," he said with a carefree laugh he didn't feel, "but knowing how Milly gets on me for being lazy as it is, if I took advantage of you like that she might really try and kill me."

Hopping off the stool and then stooping to retrieve the bag itself, Lelouch didn't notice the pout of disappointment that flickered across her face. With a shake of her head, Shirley promptly tried to rally. "W-well… maybe you could join me in the pool sometime and work out a little? It's not like she could complain if she saw you get a little more involved with the student body, you know?"

Lelouch suppressed a snort as he started walking, quite sure that if Milly caught him getting involved with a student body she'd celebrate by dragging the entire campus into a spontaneous festival of some kind.

That blonde can be a nuisance sometimes, he thought, wholly unaware of his own faint smile.

"Ah-! Lulu, wait up!"

Not slowing down at all, Lelouch half-turned to his companion with a teasing grin. "Weren't you the one excited for lunch?"

"Well, yeah," Shirley nodded, trotting to catch up. "I'm actually famished. But I didn't want to just leave you there, like you'd been abandoned or something…"

The fallen Prince forcefully ignored how deeply her statement hit him, and turned back to watch his path of travel. "That's right, I'd almost forgotten that you tend to eat a lot."

Three steps behind him now, poor Shirley was so mortified her face turned fire engine red. "LULU! Don't - don't say it like that!"

Lelouch blinked. That tone… did I say something amiss? "Hm? Don't say it like what? You're an athlete in a sport that uses the entire body, it's only natural that you'd have a high caloric intake. When I was a kid, I used to know someone who-"

The boy's mouth snapped shut. Damn it. Between the dream just now and yesterday's waking nightmare…! I really must be half-asleep to blurt that out so carelessly.

"Was this, like, back in middle school or something? Ooh, is it a secret? I promise I can keep it if it is!"

And Shirley, of course, dearly wanted to hear more. Lelouch rarely ever opened up about himself, and this was nothing if not a golden opportunity to get to know him a little better!

Lelouch hummed in lieu of a more proper response as they entered the cafeteria, nodding absently to a handful of music students sharing a pizza. A nearby television had been set to broadcast the local news as white noise, when Lelouch happened to glance at it and abruptly stopped in his tracks. "...another time, perhaps."

"Huh?" Shirley stopped and stared at Lelouch, before slowly turning to see what had his attention. "Oh my gosh!"

On the screen, a pretty redhead newscaster had just received a sheaf of papers and was quickly reading them while the picture-in-picture switched to a live video feed from a helicopter. "A terrorist of unknown affiliation has hijacked a Knightpolice Glasgow," she reported, "and according to a military spokesperson has murdered no less than two valiant Knightpolice officers. The terrorist is currently on a rampage through the settlement in Shibuya, fleeing pursuit. Spokesmen from the Viceroy's office have issued a warning for all citizens to take shelter and evacuate-"

As she continued relaying the government's instructions, a trio of Sutherlands were converging on the Glasgow.

With Shirley's horrified attention captivated by the events unfolding in Shibuya, Lelouch clenched his fists. Those idiot terrorists…! Even I can't believe they'd be stupid enough to cause trouble so quickly again after yesterday!

Meanwhile, in Shibuya…

"Stop running, you wretched blackguard! You have no chance of escaping Kewell Soresi!"

As Kewell raced through the rapidly-clearing city streets with Hope 2 and Hope 3 trailing alongside him, the terrorist scum continued his futile attempts to get away.

"You've got some real nerve calling me a blackguard," the terrorist shot back, "in light of everything YOU'RE doing!"

Kewell ignored the petty comeback, instead directing Hope 4 and Hope 5 to complete their flanking maneuver and entrap the target.

Vexingly, the moving nature of the skirmish was playing hell with civilian evacuation, so the Hope team had been temporarily banned from the use of ranged weapons.

Even as his Sutherland deftly danced through and around civilian motor traffic to avoid causing accidents, Kewell kept one eye on his display's battle map, eagerly waiting for the right moment...

The terrorist advanced another block into the settlement, before making a hard left - and Kewell smirked.

"HOPE 5!"

In immediate response to the order, another Sutherland dropped from behind a massive billboard with a KMF-scale combat knife drawn and ready. "YES, MY LORD!"

Hope 5's Sutherland swung blade-first, intending to shred the Glasgow's cockpit as it descended upon the terrorist.

However, while his defiance of Britannia clearly marked the Glasgow pilot as either a fool or a malcontent? The almost casual manner in which the terrorist countered the ambush - by ducking under the Sutherland's wrist, punching an ill-armored joint section to cause a short in the hydraulics and release the KMF's grip on its weapon, only to then catch the knife by its handle and plunge it into the Sutherland's cockpit - more than proved a degree of skill.

"There's no way he can still read our IFF data," Kewell mused, resisting the minute urge to dab at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Which means the bastard has enough reaction time to survive the element of surprise..."

Even with this setback, though, the brief engagement had stalled the Glasgow long enough for Kewell and his wingmen to finally enter melee distance. Conviction swelled in his heart as Kewell closed in for the kill, knife drawn. "Your sacrifice will not be in vain!"

"No," came the cold reply as his slash was parried. "Vain's the perfect word for it."

Hope 2 and Hope 3 closed in as well, drawing their own combat knives in a furious offensive. As the Glasgow danced between their blades, dodging where it could and parrying where it couldn't, a girl's voice cried out from its speakers. "Cease this madness at once! We're all proud Britannians - how many valiant soldiers must suffer and perish over this misunderstanding?!"

Hope 2, startled by the unexpected plea and the revelation that apparently two people were in the cockpit, drew several meters back. "What the-? Who's in there?! Identify yourself!"

"I," the female voice replied, "am Princess Euphemia li Britannia! In that name, I once again command you to lay down your arms and cease combat operations!"

Hope 3 hesitated and backed down, as Hope 2's Sutherland turned to face Kewell.

For a long, tense moment, nobody moved. Eventually, Kewell spoke, his grip tightening on his Knightmare's controls. "You know, I've heard Princess Euphemia's voice on occasion. After all, my younger sister honorably serves under General Cornelia, and it's well-known that the two sisters are joined at the hip."

And then, his vision turned red. "YOU, WRETCHED IMPOSTOR, SOUND ABSOLUTELY NOTHING LIKE HER!"

Ditching the knife in favor of a longsword built for his custom use, Kewell charged at the Glasgow in rage. "Impersonating royalty is no trivial crime; the punishment without fail is execution!"

"Wait, what?!"

In contrast to the girl's cry of shock, the Glasgow immediately leapt away from Kewell's blade charge, all but confirming the impostor to be a passenger and not the pilot. Clearly wary of Kewell's superior reach, the terrorist fled into a sidestreet.

"My Lord, we can't assist you if you pursue him into such a narrow area!"

"It's just some terrorist malcontent and his girlfriend," Kewell spat with a horizontal swing of his Sutherland's blade. "I'll be fine!"

In attempting to duck under the slash, the Glasgow fell on its back.

Kewell roared in triumph. "Case in point! No matter how talented the pilot, this is the limit of an inferior machine!"

"An inferior machine that, just moments ago, held off you and two other goons all in superior models at the same time."

With that, the Glasgow fired its Slash Harken into the crossguard of the Sutherland's sword to disarm it. At almost the same instant, the stolen machine raised its legs into the air, before then pushing off of the ground with its hands and kicking out into a standing position.

Hope 3 immediately rolled back at the sight, wary of any pilot who could draw that kind of maneuver from such an outdated machine. "That Glasgow just did a kip up!"

"Keep watching and you might learn something!"

The very instant its feet hit the ground and its balance restored, the Glasgow sprang forward and somersaulted onto Kewell's Sutherland, performing an impromptu handstand on its shoulders as its cockpit block suddenly opened and Suzaku dropped out onto the Knightmare below.

"I-impossible!"

More than happy to exploit Kewell's shock, the Honorary Britannian deftly triggered the Sutherland's emergency cockpit release to force it open.

For an instant, two Britannian soldiers - one Pureblood, one Honorary - stared each other down, until Suzaku's face morphed into a cocky, condescending smirk. "I guess that's the limit of a third-rate pilot."

Kewell stood up, drawing his sidearm to punish the upstart…

"You're just a Number-!"

...and was promptly sent flying to the street with a furious backhand, as Suzaku stoically twisted into the seat he'd previously occupied. "Now, Your Highness!"

"Well done, Sir Kururugi!"

As she spoke, Euphemia dropped out of the Glasgow and into Suzaku's arms directly beneath her, before their new Sutherland re-inserted its cockpit block.

Hope 2 and Hope 3 stared at their leader's stolen machine, before sharing an uneasy glance with each other.

Before they could decide on a course of action, the stolen Sutherland twisted from beneath the Glasgow to let it fall, before then catching it mid-air and throwing it at them.

"What bullshit is this-GAH!"

Hope 2's Sutherland staggered and struck pavement as the unexpected projectile hit it, while Suzaku's machine emerged from the side street.

The two Sutherlands stared each other down for a long moment… before Hope 3 sheathed his knife and ran like a dog with its tail between its legs. "Situation FUBAR, requesting backup!"

"Damn you, Hope 3-!"

As Hope 2 shoved the Glasgow off of him, Suzaku fired a Slash Harken through his Sutherland's armor and into a critical part of its motor control system, immobilizing it.

Inside the cockpit, Euphemia let out a sharp breath and leaned back against Suzaku. "Thank you for sparing what lives you could," she told him.

Suzaku sighed, resisting the urge to take his arms off the controls and wrap them instead around the lovely young woman sitting on him.

No, wait, he realized. That's not my urge, it's yours.

The voice in his mind offered a shaky, sheepish laugh in response. Heh heh... guilty as charged.

"Not a problem," Suzaku replied to Euphie, before shaking his head in exasperation as he realized that even that was a cartoon reference his partner had fed him. Jeez, you're such an otaku.

Hey, that's uncalled for! I've never sent a death threat in my life, to an anime studio or anywhere else!

Thank Heaven for small mercies, Suzaku thought with a smile as he changed the Knightmare's radio communications frequency. "Hey, is anyone home? It's me, Suzaku."

Cecile took a moment to stand from her seat and stretch out, working out some stress in her neck and idly contemplating where Suzaku's eyes might have wandered to if he'd been present. If I'm going to cook for him tomorrow night, I should start thinking about a menu. It's a shame I don't have any information about his tastes.

"Lloyd," she called out, "I've finished processing the last preliminary simulation for the MVS prototype; everything looks good so far, and we can start practical testing just as soon as the Lancelot's ready for it."

Lloyd immediately shot up at his desk, a wide grin on his face. "That's excellent news! Lancelot doesn't need armor or factspheres to swing a sword around, so you can just hop in and-"

"And let you slack off on your paperwork? C'mon Lloyd, you know us better than that."

Lloyd slumped back into his workspace like a scolded child with a pout to match, his enthusiasm departing just as quickly as it came. "I see you're back from collecting lunch, Mariel."

"Yeah. And since you're a good boy who doesn't shirk his administrative responsibilities," Elle said with a grin as she stepped up into the mobile lab, dangling some shopping bags in one hand. "I got you an extra pudding."

The petulant scientist turned up his nose with a huff. "You do realize, young lady, that I sign your checks and not the other way around-"

"Okay then, I'll save the pudding for Suzaku-"

"-and you more than justify every cent!" Lloyd hurriedly added, desperately reaching out for his treasured dessert and nearly falling out of his chair in the process.

Cecile watched the two with a smile, enjoying watching their sibling-like relationship - but not for a moment envying it. If I had someone like him as a brother growing up, I think I might have-

Before she could finish that thought, they picked up an incoming radio transmission.

"Hey, is anyone home? It's me, Suzaku."

In the following silence, everyone glanced at each other.

"Well," Lloyd muttered as he dug into his pudding, "that's an avant-garde take on comms protocol."

Elle frowned. "He shouldn't even be anywhere near a radio in the first place today."

"Which begs so many questions," Cecile murmured in agreement. Off guard and deeply uncertain, she opened the transmission circuit and quickly tried to decide how she ought to reply. Suzaku should certainly know better, and he seemed the responsible type as well... might it be possible that he was attempting to call for help in secret, or under dangerous conditions of some sort? "Er... hello, Suzaku! Did you forget something?"

Rather than Suzaku, the next response came instead from an energetic and youthful female voice. "Oh thank you so very much for picking up! You see, I've made the most lovely crown of flowers for my darling brother, but he lives in the forest. I mean to take it myself, but this charming fellow did such a fine job of promoting your parcel delivery service, I just couldn't help inquiring if you knew of a better road I might use?"

Elle tilted her head to one side, perplexed and faintly annoyed. She sounds cute. "Wonder what valley she came from - whoa, what's with that look? What am I missing?"

Cecile and Lloyd had both gone pale, as the Earl of Pudding abandoned his trademark snack to start rifling through his desk's bottom drawer.

"Erm - yes, absolutely," Cecile replied to the unknown girl with the kind of false cheer that only comes from tightly controlled alarm.

As Cecile continued playing along with whatever the mystery caller said, Lloyd at last retrieved a nondescript phone and dialled a number on it…

Stomping down a hallway in Hi-TV News headquarters, Jeremiah Gottwald's voice preceded him as he interrogated a subordinate on the phone. "What the hell are Peace Mark suddenly doing in Area Eleven? Before now their operations have always been confined to Europe and mainland Asia!"

"I wish I could tell you, Margrave, but I don't have much more information than this. I was told some minutes ago that Lord Soresi's unit is in pursuit of the terrorist, a woman whom pursuers haven't been able to identify and who may have accomplices among the Elevens."

Jeremiah withstood the urge to roll his eyes, not out of consideration for his conversation partner but for the sake of his image amongst the media personnel surrounding him. If not for the political necessity of securing our position, he grumped to himself, I'd much rather be out in the field hunting down those scum myself. "Understood. ...I'm entrusting you with command of the situation; get in contact with Soresi, Viletta, and bring that hothead under control so we can mobilize other forces to coordinate with him. You already know not to contact me again unless it's a critical emergency, since we need to show the public that everything's under our control."

"Yes, my lord."

As Jeremiah ended the call, Deithard Reid strode up to walk alongside him. "Statements have been prepared, and a news helicopter is en route to the skirmish as we speak. Even if they aren't in time to catch our military's victory on camera, at the very least we ought to be able to broadcast the terrorist's arrest."

Jeremiah nodded as the two entered a prepared newsroom on the sixth floor, when suddenly both men had a near-simultaneous phone call. "What the hell-?"

Reid answered his call immediately, while Jeremiah incredulously glanced at his phone's screen… and felt his blood turn to ice. Hand trembling in dread, he swallowed and accepted the call -

"ROLL THE CAMERAS, NOW!"

-only for Reid's passionate, crazed order to startle him badly enough to drop the phone. An instant later, the blonde newsman tackled Jeremiah away from the building's outside wall just before something crashed through it and into the room with a deafening roar.

Shaking off the shock, Jeremiah quickly checked himself for injuries, until he heard the familiar sound of a KMF cockpit block hissing open and instinctively reached for his sidearm. If they wanted to hijack a press conference there had to be any number of more efficient ways to do it...

A shadow took shape in the rapidly-clearing debris cloud, before a teenaged girl with pink hair strode out wearing upper body armor and with a thin trail of blood flowing down her face beneath her helmet.

But most striking of all was that Jeremiah knew her. He knew, deep down to the core of his soul and with every fiber of his being, that for this girl to appear before him in such a way could mean only one thing.

...Eden be with us.

The girl swept an arm through the air, and as if prompted by it a gust of wind blew into the office from the hole she'd just made, causing her skirt and hair to dramatically billow around her. "I… am Euphemia li Britannia, Third Princess of our Holy Britannia! By the power vested in me as Acting Viceroy of Area Eleven, I hereby command that all military and Knightpolice forces in the Tokyo area immediately stand down and withdraw! Furthermore, all such officers affiliated with the Blood-Purist Faction are to be immediately detained for questioning on the charges of high treason and attempted assassination of royalty!"

As the recovering news staff immediately erupted like a volcano, attempting to pepper the Princess with questions, Jeremiah took in a breath and roared at them. "ABSOLUTELY DISGRACEFUL! AS MEN AND WOMEN IN PROUD SERVICE TO THE CROWN, ONLY THREE WORDS SHOULD BE ON YOUR LIPS!"

Their attention drawn now to him, he immediately knelt in supplication. "YES, YOUR HIGHNESS!"

Though the news staff were not military, they lost themselves in the moment and accepted this chastisement from the man who, until mere seconds before, had been the most powerful figure in the Area. One after another, they all bowed or bent the knee, and as the live camera feed focused closer on the commanding and regal Euphemia, a chorus arose.

"Yes, Your Highness!"