Imperial Calendar Year 1965.

His shoes were too tight.

That was the first thing that occurred to Charles, as he stepped out into the gardens. The second thing was that his tunic seemed to be cutting off his air supply; the tailors his mother had employed always seemed to stitch the collar too close. The fair-haired boy tugged at his collar, his nose wrinkling.

This time, he resolved to let Mother know, and then new, better tailors would arrive.

The control Charles was afforded, despite his young age, was a constant reassurance against a world that often frightened and dissuaded him. Even when he was hundreds of miles away from Pendragon, nestled in the comfort of the family villa, he could still feel the legions of bloodthirsty relatives breathing down his neck, eager to usurp his rank by any means necessary.

His brother, however, was nowhere near as fearful, daring to remain outside the villa grounds for hours at a time, to the chagrin of both Mother and her bodyguards. Victor braved both the outside world and the courts without hesitation, appearing almost blissfully ignorant of the dangers that awaited him.

Even now, as he raced towards Charles, he was carefree – dashing across the garden with moussed platinum-blonde hair and grass-stained trousers.

"Brother!" Victor called. "Charles! Come on!"

Charles tilted his head, his confusion plain on his face.

"…Why?" he asked, almost inaudible in his curiosity.

"I've found someone!"

Charles paled, his expression growing tight. Someone…That can't be good. What if it's another of Mother's enemies? Or an assassin, or a terrorist, or -

Any further thoughts were strangled in the crib as Charles was tugged by the wrist and dragged back across the gardens by his brother.

"Victor! Stop!" The boy whined, tugging fruitlessly at his brother's firm grip.

"You have to see him, brother! I've found a giant!" Victor replied, his voice bright with youthful delight.

Charles frowned, his mind racing as his brother guided him towards the back of the gardens. A…giant?

"W – What do you mean, a giant?" Charles asked, and watched as his brother moved away from him, to unlock the large gate blocking their passage into the forest beyond.

"I mean, he's massive! Far taller than Father!" his brother grunted, as he pulled up the bolts holding the gate in place.

Charles scoffed. Now that's ridiculous. No one's taller than the Emperor.

The rusted gate swung open with a pained whine, and Charles took a step back on instinct. The forest behind the villa was expansive, and the heavy foliage meant much of it was shadowed – but that didn't stop Victor from grabbing his wrist once more and pulling him along into the forest.

"So where is this giant?" Charles asked, gasping as his foot snagged on a rock. As he regained his footing, Victor pointed into the darkened depths of the forest and appeared to squint for a moment.

"He's in there! Not far, I promise!" he chirped.

Charles nodded weakly, attempting to keep pace with his brother as the ground grew more and more uneven, the sunlight blotted out by the thick vegetation and only coming through in narrow streams of gold.

Victor stopped suddenly, and Charles skidded to a stop behind him, peering over his shoulder.

True to his brother's word, he could make out the form of something slumped against the base of a large oak tree. As he and Victor drew closer and closer, Charles could make out more and more of the so-called giant.

Its body was draped almost entirely in a heavy brown cloak, hood drawn up over its face. It remained still as Charles and Victor approached, dry leaves and twigs crumpling underneath their feet.

Only a few meters away now, Victor crouched down, leaning in with curiosity, whilst his brother lingered behind, apprehensive.

Even slumped, the giant's size was obvious to Charles – its frame was wide underneath the cloak, and massive calves and feet protruded out from the cloth. Maybe he is bigger than the Emperor.

"Victor – I wouldn't get too close..." Charles murmured, watching as his brother shuffled closer.

"But I'm not you, brother…" Victor replied.

"He could be dangerous!" Charles hissed, reaching out and grabbing the other boy's shoulder. At that same time, new rays of sunlight broke through the trees, illuminating rivulets of crimson streaming from the unmoving form.

Charles' eyes widened and he swallowed his fear – for the moment, at least. He inched closer, beside his brother and knelt down, inspecting the blood that was pooling beneath the stranger. He's hurt!

"H – Hello? Can you hear me?" Charles called, quietly. The figure barely stirred, a low rumble emanating from their throat.

"Raise your voice! I don't think he heard you!" Victor whispered into his ear, and Charles hesitated, before doing so.

"Hello – are you hurt? Are you –" Charles' voice died in his throat as the stranger raised their head, slowly.

Eyes, bright orange like burning coals, stared out from underneath the tattered hood. The gaze was lidded with fatigue, but it was enough to make the two boys recoil, a gasp of fear escaping Victor. However, Charles was not deterred, and moved closer once more, even as the figure's hellish gaze locked onto him.

"M – My name's Charles," the boy stammered out, and then indicated his brother. "He's Victor."

He then knelt down, his leggings quickly staining red from the stranger's blood. "You're hurt. Can we…help you?"

Bright orange eyes regarded him for several seconds, their owner silent. Finally, the stranger made a grunt of what Charles hoped was agreement, his eyes closing as he slumped back against the tree.

The boy nodded and moved closer, even as Victor spoke again, fearful.

"Charles – we should go back."

"Why?" Charles replied, glancing back at his brother. "We should help him. Besides, you brought us here – you were excited to see him, right?"

"Yes, but –" Victor drifted off, watching with bated breath as his brother approached the still figure.

Charles himself could barely restrain a shiver of apprehension as he reached out, hesitant. He dared to clasp the fabric of the hood that hid the stranger's face in shadow, and drew it back -

On August 10th, in the year 2010 of the Imperial Calendar, The Holy Britannian Empire declared war upon Japan. The eastern island nation had held fast to its neutrality despite the Empire's expansive campaign – but now Britannia loomed as the world's only superpower.

Rights to Japan's underground Sakuradite resources became a hotly disputed issue, only serving to further strain relations between the two nations.

In the deciding battle for the mainland, the Empire unveiled its newest weapon – the humanoid autonomous armoured knight, known as the Knightmare Frame. Britannia's forces were far greater than predicted, and Japan's lines of defence were crushed with little effort.

The nation was subjugated – its people and culture merged into the Britannian conglomeration. Becoming a dominion of the Empire alongside countless other countries, Japan was forced into silent servitude of the Empire, its resources monopolised and its people forced to live alongside their conquerors.

Years later, the status quo remains unchanged – many Japanese choose to live in blissful ignorance, going on with their lives – yet there are those who have sworn to fight the Empire, either for their independence - or for their revenge.

Code Geass is property of Sunrise and CLAMP.

Mortal Kombat is property of Netherrealm Studios.

CODE GEASS: BLOOD AND ICE

Imperial Calendar Year 2017.

"I don't like it."

"Well, I don't care – we're already here."

"We are dealing with criminals!"

"We've been dealing with these guys for months! You're only whining about it now, Kallen?"

"I'm whining because we're on their turf, Nagata! Even if they don't kill us for looking at them the wrong way, they'll probably bleed us dry of money! We can't bargain with our backs to the wall!"

Naoto Kozuki glanced between the two arguing in front of him and sighed.

His younger sister, Kallen, shared his dark red hair and blue eyes, but whilst his hair fell to his shoulders, her had been styled to flare out at the back and sides. She was of average height, and her brown and crimson outfit exposed a toned midriff and defined arms.

Takeshi Nagata, to contrast, was a tall, rakish man, covered almost completely with a thick, dark jacket, jeans, and heavy boots. The man had sharp features, and black hair fell down his back.

Both of them had been at each other's throats the entire length of the journey over.

Non-stop, in the van, back and forth, back and forth…I just wanted to listen to my mixtape. I take it that's far too much to ask for.

Finally, Naoto cut in. "Careful with your names around here," he hissed. "Don't know what these people could do with that information if we cross them."

All three of them wore the same crimson headbands, and simple black masks drawn up over their mouth and nose to mask their identities.

Their surroundings were metallic, cramped – lit lowly by neon lights hanging overhead. Occasionally, someone would pass the small group by, almost always staring at them for several moments with suspicion as they passed by.

"It was your decision to go to the Black Dragon, not mine," Nagata murmured. "Don't chew me out because you're suddenly getting cold feet as well, Naoto."

Underneath his mask, Naoto scowled. "It was my decision. But this is the only place in Tokyo, the only place in all of Japan, probably, where we can get weapons, get Knightmares – with a minimum of fuss and danger."

"Minimum of fuss and danger? Are you shitting me?" Kallen interjected, one eyebrow cocked. "You hear about the Black Dragon on military chatter, on police scanners! And we're their faithful customers, feeding them more and more money so they can go on doing god knows what!"

"Quiet!" Naoto barked, fists clenching. His sister backed up slightly, eyes narrowed, and he let out a breath, running one hand through his hair.

His other hand clutched the handle of a nondescript black briefcase.

"Look…these are…dangerous circumstances, yeah. But as long as we keep it simple, we don't make a scene, we'll be alright. We'll just pay, and get out. Okay?" He looked between the two, watching as both Kallen and Nagata nodded haltingly.

"Okay," Kallen echoed.

"Good," Naoto murmured. "Now follow me."

The three stalked down twisting, narrow corridors, keeping as much distance between them and any others they happened to pass on the way.

Finally, they came to a single inconspicuous door, with a pane of frosted glass providing a distorted look into what looked like an office. Naoto could make out three figures inside – two on either side of a desk, and one sitting behind it, their back to the door.

Naoto reached out, and rapped on the door sharply – he saw the two figures beside the desk shift, facing the door, and he took a moment to gather the courage to enter.

Kallen frowned, glancing at him. Naoto coughed, twisting the doorknob and pushing forward, slow and deliberate. It just looks like an old door, that's all. Don't want to be too forceful with it.

Stepping in with Kallen and Nagata close behind, Naoto glanced around the office quickly – it was a mishmash of the conventional and the abnormal, filing cabinets placed alongside crates of weaponry and equipment.

Behind the figure sitting in the chair, a crimson banner hung from the back wall, displaying a black emblem - twin dragons, one on each side of a dagger, their tails coiled back against the blade's tip.

On the right side of the desk, stood a fairly tall man, wearing a heavy crimson jacket. His dark hair was closely shorn in a buzzcut, and a small soul patch stood out on his chin. As he looked over Naoto and his group, he sneered.

To the left side of the desk, was someone who made him seem far smaller.

Coming close to seven feet tall, the second man's features were hidden behind a bronzed metal mask that covered his mouth and nose, and further shadowed by the hood of his brown sleeveless sweatshirt, the fabric stretched taut over a heavily muscled torso.

Despite the intimidating company, Naoto kept a straight face – he could only hope that Kallen and Nagata could do the same.

"We're here to pay," Naoto announced, surprised at his own forwardness. "For the order from two weeks ago."

The smaller man stepped forward, and held out a hand expectantly. Naoto nodded, and handed the briefcase over. It was then taken by the man, and set on the desk. With a click, it was opened, revealing the immense amount of cash inside.

The case was then taken around the desk, and shown to the figure sitting in the chair, who made barely a sound before the case was closed again, and set to the side of the desk.

"Payment's good," the smaller man said, returning to his position once more. "You'll be escorted to a supply truck loaded with your merchandise –"

"Not yet," came a low, Australian drawl.

Naoto's eyes narrowed as the chair behind the desk swivelled around, and then widened as he took in the sight of the man before him.

He was heavily built, wearing an open tan vest that exposed his tattooed chest and arms. His hair was dark and close-cropped, sideburns trailing down into a short, boxed beard. A bandolier of sorts was slung across his torso, from his left shoulder to his right side. Mounted on it, over the man's heart, was a pulsating red light. However, that was far from the most alarming aspect.

The man's right eye was gone. In its place was a glowing red orb, surrounded by a metal plate that covered the upper-right quarter of his face. Naoto squinted – it seemed like the metal had actually been implanted into his head, crawling all the way back into his hairline.

"Distracting, ain't it?"

Naoto flinched as the man spoke again, leaning back in his chair with a grin. He rapped the metal plate lightly with a knuckle.

"Had it for years, now, after some military shithead knocked the real one out. Makes a good conversation starter, though," he chuckled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. "Speaking of conversations – bet you're wondering why we're keeping you a little longer."

"The thought occurred to me," Naoto murmured.

Behind him, Nagata shifted nervously on the spot, glancing between the red-eyed man and his two accomplices. Kallen remained ramrod straight, gazing ahead.

"I just thought that it'd be polite – to greet some of the Black Dragon's newest customers in person," the man continued. He seemed amiable, in his way – but Naoto knew better, judging from both his outlandish appearance and the company he kept.

Kallen suddenly interjected, moving forward beside her brother.

"And you are?" she asked, curt.

"Kano. A pleasure," he replied, bowing his head slightly. Naoto tried to keep himself silent, controlled.

This is Kano? Why the hell would he come here? The Black Dragon must run thousands of deals every year, and it'd be too dangerous to have their leader appear at every single one.

Which means there's something about this deal that's different.

…Oh, God.

No.

They found out.

Swallowing, Naoto straightened up as Kano took a moment to fish through one of the drawers in his desk. Finally, he withdrew a series of papers, slapping them down on the desk and picking up the first sheet for inspection.

As he scanned the page, he smirked, glancing between the group and the paper.

"Seems like you've got quite the appetite," Kano mused, and then began to read off the list of ordered goods printed on the sheet. "Let's see…two crates of M5 Carbines, and ammunition…a crate of sidearms, and the ammunition…ten grenade launchers and a crate of ordinance…and this is my favourite part right here."

Kano leant forward, and looked up at Naoto as he read the words on the page, eyebrow cocked in amusement.

"Three Knightmares. Three," he chuckled, apparently entertained. "Burai-types, along with all the trimmings – energy fillers, KMF rifles, munitions, and maintenance equipment."

The paper slapped back onto the desk, and Naoto flinched.

"Fighting a war, are we?"

"You might say that," Naoto said, mentally cursing the tremor in his voice. Kallen narrowed her eyes beside him – she noticed.

"This is very expensive equipment that's changing hands here…and I'm impressed you're able to pay for all of this upfront," Kano said, taking the papers and shoving them back into the drawer. He leant back as he scrutinised Naoto and his group, his cybernetic eye glinting.

"Well, we have deep pockets," Naoto replied.

That is to say, the Stadtfeld Consortium does.

"I'm a little surprised – you're just…small-time insurrectionists, no?" Kano asked, and Kallen bristled – but before she could open her mouth, Nagata was already speaking.

"We're not small-time," he hissed. "We're the ones who are gonna put things right. Britannia beats us into the dirt, picks us back up, forces us to make nice with them – and they expect us to pretend like nothing happened? Bullshit."

Kano didn't reply immediately, instead grunting. He turned his gaze back to Naoto.

"Your man here has a lot of anger. Might want to watch his tone, though," he murmured, and watched as Nagata stepped back, face still twisted with frustration.

"He's sorry. It was a long drive over," Naoto supplied.

We need to get out of here as quickly as possible. Maybe they don't know, not yet. There's still time to stop this shitstorm before it begins.

"And on that, I think it's time to go. With respect, Mister…Kano," Naoto bowed low, Kallen and Nagata following suite a second later.

"Thank you for your time," he added, turning to head for the door.

"Tremor," Kano muttered.

Before Naoto and the others could leave, the massive man in the hood and mask had stepped in front of the door, his wide frame barring exit.

"There is another matter we need to talk about," Kano said, gesturing to a spot in front of his desk.

As Kallen and Nagata's faces flashed with confusion and fear, Naoto paled.

Shit.

What's this? It looks like another crossover fic. This is an idea I've been brainstorming for the better part of a year, and I'm very happy to bring you the first glimpses of it.

I hope I can do right by both franchises, and I hope you'll stick with me on this new journey - we're going to go places.