Geass Aberration Eta

Post-Requiem Turn 7: Η = Eta

Bear in mind: the system screwed up my italics and bolds on entry. Subsequent edits will continue over the next 48 hours.

Tokyo Tower Complex, "Centrum Umbrae", 10:45 AM

"The common people. A race of poor, indecisive, weak-willed creatures scarcely above animals. That is what my enemies will say, what the line of those filthy feudal parasites will thunder away. Do you know what I say? I say that I agree." Lelouch von Britannia, Former 99th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire and Sovereign of Nightmares, announced maliciously, hands clasped in mock praise on the podium, a sneer of contempt on his face. He leaned forward, grinning ferociously into the camera, palms slapping down on the fine wood.

"Partly. They are weak-willed and indecisive, incapable of both recognizing and dealing with injustice directed their way. Oh, they do have the means to better themselves, but… They misuse them, against themselves, of all things!" He paused to hammer the podium with a bloodied fist, hunched over, barely holding back a demented cackle. He lurched forwards, resting that ghostly visage against his steepled fingers, glaring over them with smoldering eyes narrowed, tone dangerously soft. "I disagree on the average man or woman being almost animals. They are far more than that. No, the label of being animals goes to another group of… so-called people. But they can be mentioned later. The average person is, very simply… a tool."

The steepled fingers receded slightly, revealing a deranged, toothy smile, mad eyes wide. "Yeeeeeesssssss… That's what you are, people of the world. But don't take it too hard. I'm not insulting you. Tools are useful, easily manipulated, and are used to get the job done. Weapons are tools too, just veeeeeeerrry sharp and crafted for the bloody purpossssssssse…" Abruptly he yanked a ceremonial dagger out of its sheath in his cloak and violently slammed it into the top of the podium to its hilt, making the assembled officers in the purposely darkened room jump. He then rested his chin on the top of the handle, smiling like a cherub. "What's even better about those is that they're interchangeable. A sword can be turned into a butcher's knife, a shield can turned into a plowshare, a nice bottle of vodka can be turned into an oh-so-lethal incendiary explosive, and shards from a mirror can be used to slice someone's throat open. One can easily become fond of such implements. Why, such faithful tools as a reliable hammer or a lucky ivory-handled pistol can seem like the best friends in the world, in the right circumstances!" He stared off into space, the smile becoming fondly absentminded. "You make sure they're taken care of, that they don't break. And when they do break, you try to fix them…"

He leaned backwards, scowling, fingers gripping the sides of the podium. "But what about the unreliable tools? One must wonder if the treacherous hammer that crushed your finger had a choice in the matter. It didn't. Traitors always did." He hissed bitterly.

He pointed beyond the camera, towards the outside world. The cameraman swiveled it around to face the now unblocked and un-plated windows.

Η

Where there should have been natural clouds, with the sun peeking in and out, there was instead a blanket of smoke, intermittently lit red or yellow by discharged cannons and explosions, as well as the fires of burning buildings. Hundreds of knightmare frames, tanks, and thousands of infantrymen fought and died on the smoldering ruins; in the air, gunships, flight frames, and helicopters dueled for supremacy, the Ars Helios frigates launching volley after volley of excited hadrons at the opposing airships; out in the bay, a cruiser with JAF markings listed towards the shore, ravaged by shelling, in flames. As it crashed into the broken dock, a volley of cannon-fire from further out to sea tore it apart from stem to stern; a mighty UFN battleship hovered into view, beginning to bombard the parts of the city further in with its side guns while the armaments on the other side tried to fend off a trio of gunships. From the base of the Tower, artillery cannons boomed, firing showers of ordinance into the inland sections of Tokyo.

In the suburban sections of the area, the once quiet streets and lanes became war zones in their own right. The populace, to the surprise of commanders of both forces, did not all instantly turn on the overlord, nor was it split conveniently down the middle in terms of allegiance. Dozens of factions had begun forming within the hour, even naming themselves: The Kaware-Yokai(Demon Destroyers) formed with the distinct rabid hatred of the emperor, numbering the most out of that crowd; The Old Guard, veterans of the Japanese army who had dragged out their old swords and guns the instant it had become clear whose side General Tohdoh was on, joined by their older children, who sought to bring down those they perceived as traitors to Japan, but also seeking to bring order to the mob; The beleaguered Honored, the weary core of former Honorary Britannians who still had some loyalty to their old masters, all of them either well-trained or well-moneyed enough to continue surviving in a sea of fanatics. Most surprising were the Japanese who sided with the emperor for reasons only stated as sincere gratitude, and nothing more than that. Memento Vivi they called themselves, either fighting for Lelouch with a calm but adamant force, or broadcasting radio messages, sending off information on the scenario to any safe channels.

With the Britannian side, groups more easy to categorize were forming, but not without their own mysteries: The Swiss Zone numbered the most with the foreigners, but only by a small margin. They were the people that just wanted to be left alone, who didn't want to rise up, or were simply too afraid to pick a side in the fight; they maintained a sizeable safe area on the far side of the city, suppressing incursions on their territory. On the side decidedly against the emperor were the Purifiers, those who viewed his continued existence as an abomination, an insult to their heritage, whose anger outweighed their fear. These were held in check mostly by the most infamous and strangest of the groups, the 99th Unsung, taking up the core of those for the overlord, a mix of calmed Revenant gangs, loyalist expatriates, and veterans of the 99th's brief campaign, fanatically loyal, as well as ridiculously well-supplied and armed( several custom-built knightmare frames had been spotted since the start of the conflict, rendering an anarchist group defunct, before moving on to attack the side-streams of the mob), they were responsible for clearing out most of the smaller groups in the foreign quarter.

Η

"See, people of the world. See the destruction these filth, these worthless animals, have wrought!" The hegemon snarled, moving in front of the camera to gesture behind himself at the spectacle. "No, they are worse than animals. Animals work from instinct. Wolves do not betray their pack; vultures pick at and devour the dead because they must. Traitors don't even have that as an excuse. They are lower than the simplest bacterium, below deserving life itself. My justice will part them from their ill-used privilege."

He scowled, raising a fist against his chest, abruptly quiet and serious sounding. "Clearly, these 'Knights for Justice' have deviated from the path of their founder. They no longer serve justice. They are an insult to the concept, and thus will be broken." Suddenly he brought his arm to stretch out in front of him, the fist opening…then it was drenched in blood, blades slicing up from under the skin to push through. He paused for a moment, allowing the blood to cascade down onto the floor, then spoke, quietly at first, but steadily growing in strength and volume. "I am the Emperor of Justice, he of Sanguine rule. Blood-for-blood, eye-for-eye, life-for-life. The traitor will not be allowed to survive. The rabid herd of Humanity that comes for me will not be tolerated. The injustice that has been committed against me will be punished. It shall be a massacre, the death of all who would dare stand against me. Know me, mine faithful. Know that your Emperor beckons you to my service. Know me, world. Know that I still hold all of you in this bloody hand, which can easily become a crushing fist. Know that your sovereign lord is merciful for your penance, your fear, your dread. Know me, you nations of the world. Know that I demand your compliance, your peace, or the lamenting of your women and your children will fill the air as a chorus!"

He put one hand against his heart while the blade-hand curled back into a fist, an expression akin to unholy anger twisting his features; he began to shout imperiously, his voice filling the chamber. "KNOW that your master has a new edict: All ye of royal, noble, and common blood, I command you to KNEEL before me! I demand the world to recognize my will, as Emperor, of a new age, a new Empire, greater than that of any Alexander or Britannia! Come to me, tools to my hands. Together we will build that empire, as a masterpiece of Humanity! No mortal man or woman may stand against us. So, world, as your rightful King dictates, OBEY!"

Η

A ringing silence filled the room as the camera shut off. The various officers and creatures of state stared at the tyrant for a full minute, some forcing down the old fear that had gripped them in the 'halcyon' days of the 99th, reminding themselves that this was just an act, not too far away from what they were used to hearing from the old style Britannian royalty. It was an act, wasn't it?

Even Kaguya Sumeragi, who had seen the warlord at the height of his power(and had watched every last one of Zero's speeches), was a little spooked by that smile he had on his face the instant the camera had stopped recording, sarcastic clapping on her end notwithstanding. She had been hustled over into the Tower shortly after the upheaval began (her protests ignored), logically still the safest place to take cover from it.

"Wonderful rant, Lelouch. I see that you are far from out of practice in terms of oratory. Now, will you come with me so that we can… Are you even listening to me?" The Madame President huffed irritably, staring at the currently grinning overlord, whose hair had shifted in front of his eyes. "Look, I don't have time for you to have another breakdown or for you to brood over…"

She was interrupted by the beginnings of a raspy, almost burn-out sounding chuckle from Lelouch. "Hehhhehehhhehahaha... It's been years, far too long since I've done this last…huhuhuhuhuuuhh…" He breathed rapturously.

Kaguya gave an impatient sigh, having none of this. "Yes, it's been years since you've last had an opportunity to piss off the whole—YEEK!" She had leapt backwards, nearly falling, fighting angrily to regain her composure: Lelouch had tossed back his head, flinging the hair out of his eyes, but at the same time was giving the young official the most utterly psychotic look of glee she had ever seen. "This is the most FUN I've had in AGES! You have no idea how much I missed doing this. I only went this far ONCE in the whole of my rule!" The warlord hissed with relish. His face hardened for a moment. "I hope that it works."

Fighting down the urge to throw another punch at him, she spoke, deadpan, looking directly to the side of his face. "I'm so happy for you. Don't… make that face at me again, please. I would prefer not to be reminded of what, exactly, I am in the same room with. Really, as fun as it would be to watch more of your ranting at the world, I have a job for you. And I need it done within the next half-hour. So cut the crazy to a minimum."

The overlord leant forward with a smirk, eyes glimmering mischievously.

"You're starting to sound like a spoil-sport, Miss Sumeragi. Surely you're not that hard to please? Or will you be a bit more fun after I finish this job for you, whatever it is?"

He got another bland stare in response, before she closed her eyes, summoning the patience that had served her well over the years, then spoke, as calmly as she could manage. "I need for you…to deal with those hyenas representing the UFN council. I received a message in transit to here that they wanted to have a video conference with you. Badly. It's getting worse by the minute, everyone arguing over what to do with you. So I need you to go down to the media suite and…" She trailed off, seeing his eyes narrow in malicious anticipation, the left hand twitching in a claw-like way.

"Damn! There's no way you're going into that room without me now, is there? You'd start scaring them to death, or worse, give them a tyranno-absurdist lecture. I have to make sure you behave yourself, warlord boy." She said resignedly, beginning to walk off.

"You really ARE no fun, Madame President. Can I at least needle them a little? Pleeeeeeease? They deserve it, you know. A little reminder of what they've done wrong. Also, I find a little terror mixes rather well with democracy. It speeds things up remarkably well…" the warlord cajoled gleefully, the pitch of his voice going unusually high.

If there is ANY kind of God out there who listens to politicians, give this one patience…PLEASE.

Without stopping, her back to him, Kaguya ground out her response.

"Do you want me to take you seriously? That's what I'm trying very hard to do right now. Do you understand what I'm doing? I'm treating you as a head of state, even though right now you seem like a head case with a private army. Please, for the sake of this… politically insane alliance, at least try to act like the former. You do have allies, or at least potential ones within the UFN besides me, you know. You have to notice them too. Or else this little scenario you've gotten yourself stuck in will get much worse. So get with the**"

*HAAACK—nnnfh*

Kaguya froze. What did he just...?

"I believe the word you were going to finish with was 'program', Miss Sumeragi? So, what pieces have you got for me to work with?...Is this voice better?" Lelouch inquired frostily.

Oh, and you have the right to complain…

She looked over her shoulder for a moment, knowing as she did so that it STILL might not be worth the effort… And with satisfaction she noted the pronounced scowl on his face.

YESSS! I finally brought him down! Now, if I can keep him on task...

She allowed a brief smirk to play across her lips, just long enough to see her opposite's eyes narrow slightly.

"Much better, but I'd prefer a less hostile tone. Xing Ke and Prince Sukarit would certainly like to help you, if you don't scare them off, that is. In fact, most of the Southeast Asian and African representatives seem more curious about what you have to say than anything else. For the most part though, anyone else major enough wants you dead. On that note, Britannia's remained totally silent. To everyone. This is really disturbing. I can understand Empress Cornelia being out of action, what with her going into labor and all, but Guilford was talking to me throughout that crisis with the mercenaries. He mentioned that his master's last command before going incoherent was to mount a strike on the Tower before noon." She stopped as Lelouch raised a palm, his eyes going intensely serious, the mind behind them moving rapidly. "They're going on with the strike, no question about it. With the military network in disarray, they can attack at any time. And if I'm thinking this through correctly, this strike will be led by the Knights of the Round, with Guilford commanding, in all likelihood. In this case, we can't afford to waste time. I need to be readying the defense personally, or they'll crash right through. Sorry Madame President, but your politics take a back seat as of now. Tamaki!" He barked, frowning, striding past the infuriated official.

To the surprise of many, the inept former Black Knight had been put to work as a majordomo by the Emperor, as well as a general henchman. He hurried up, looking a little uncomfortable in the baroque burgundy uniform he had been given.

"Yes boss, erm, yes my Emperor?" He asked, trying to sound less rough than usual, and not quite succeeding.

"Inform General Tohdoh that I'm taking command of all forces under our axis of control. Right now, he needs to fall back to the Tower perimeter, even if it means losing ground. The Britannians will hit from the air, and I need our ground forces in a position where they won't be needlessly torched. I know Guilford. He won't let anything stand in his way, no matter the cost. With luck, the traitor Knights won't figure this out in time. But that's unimportant really. Surviving the next few hours IS. Now get moving. The General needs this information NOW. What are you all standing around for? To your stations!" The warlord snapped to the room at large, the officers and various officials scurrying through the exits to wherever they were needed.

The Emperor stood still in the centre of the room, dusted off his hands, inhaled the resultant mix of pulverized solvents and concrete residue, and then walked over to one of the few totally intact walls of the chamber.

"Now that's out of the way, I can finally get to work..." the war lord hissed, seemingly oblivious to the fuming woman behind him, running his hands over the wall.

"By work, you mean what I ordered you to do, right?" she asked, tone going dangerously soft.

Still ignoring her, he stopped his right hand over a particular spot, then tapped it three times in a roughly triangular motion. Instantly, a panel slid up and back, revealing a key pad. He tapped a number, and then the wall whirred. A sound of hydraulics working filled the air for a moment. The wall panel slid down, and a spartan elevator compartment revealed itself. "I'm doing exactly what you want, Madame President. I'm making our position less suicidal, the best way I can. However..."

He pressed the button to keep the doors open, still not turning around.

"You can stay here, be safe from potential mishaps, maybe even go to the communication suite if you feel like it. The War Room is now exposed to the open air thanks to those damned mercenaries, and is also at a level closer to the fighting. You WILL be vulnerable to all the hazards of a modern battle: sniper fire, stray rounds, hadron backwash... If you want to follow me, keep all of this in mind..." he stated tonelessly. He paused, took in a breath to speak again, but was cut off.

"Do NOT lecture me on danger. And if you are going to force me to go along with your war, don't waste my time, either!" The official snapped, speedily trotting past him into the elevator, then turning on her heel to sneer at him. "After all, I survived You, Demon King. Remember that the next time you even dare think of lecturing me."

For a moment, the warlord just stared at her in surprise. His expression shifted, from pained, to shocked, to what she could swear for a split-second was something like arousal, then slowly settling into a grim, if satisfied smirk. "Very well, Miss Sumeragi. I grant you the privilege of leading us to Hell. You are most welcome there..." Lelouch drawled, with a strangely smug demeanor, stepping into the lift.

As the lift doors closed, the warlord turned to regard her coldly. "...But for your information, Miss Sumeragi, you survived because it was my will. I chose to let you live. You should be grateful." He hissed, his tone going somewhere between haughty and... reproachful?

You complete... BASTARD! You expect me to...

"I locked you away from the world, and kept you safe in the process. I made certain that you suffered no abuses in there. I even put your cell in the most secure part of the complex; had any fighting broken out, you would still be safe. What have I done to you to earn this anger?"

Memories began flooding back of that day, three years ago. The day when she was going to meet with her unmasked Zero. She was going to work with the intelligent young man who won the freedom of Japan, to make the world a more peaceful place. She had thought that maybe, with all the sweeping reforms he had passed, that the power hadn't gone to his head in the least. Maybe she'd even get to talk to him in private, after this was all said and done. Everything should have been fine. The moment she saw that mocking smile, she knew otherwise. It said quite plainly, "Thank you for so generously walking into my trap, you fool."

The UFN president ground her teeth, her eyes stinging. Her voice shook a little with her next words.

"Even after that debacle with the Black Knights, I still trusted you. The man who freed Japan could be given a second chance, right? I gave you that chance, and then you threw it back in my face. You betrayed my trust. And I am never going to forget that. Or let you."

Save for a few deep, calming breaths, the rest of the short trip downwards was very quiet, Lelouch staring into the doors blankly, shoulders slumped.

Η

They had started out a mere blur on the horizon, even to those personnel using binoculars and other instruments. Within a second of being sighted, the blurred warship suddenly went into overdrive, stopping only when it loomed over the residential district, its dagger-like bow pointed at the soaring parapets of the Tower. As soon as it stopped, hundreds and thousands of missiles and anti-aircraft rounds flew at it from every upward angle, all other sounds becoming subsumed by the wailing shriek of propellant rockets and the barks of cannon-fire. A massive explosion filled the sky, so that it seemed like the sun itself had descended through the miasma of smoke. And the incendiary display grew, more rounds, more rockets, more directed energy poured into the black smoke and bright flames. Suddenly, lances of deathly white energy came snarling out from the explosion like bolts thrown by a wrathful deity of old, punishing those who defied its will. The effect amounted to the same thing, really. Tanks were torn asunder. Artillery platforms were sliced into burning, stinking slag. Knightmares fell apart, either ripped in half or pounded into the ruined concrete, the once cutting edge weapons of Man reduced to their component parts.

The legions of all sides scattered and retreated before the Crusade Manifest as it slowly, almost haughtily, floated through the cloud of smoke, its' teal barriers shining undiminished, unwavering. It reached the Tower perimeter unmolested, and simply sat there. Bays on its sides opened up revealing hulking figures of glimmering colored armor.

At the front of the craft, five more doors opened to show five shining metal knights, all with their own colors and markings, as well as their own unique weapons: A great lance, ringed with kinetic accelerators; a mighty axe, it's serrated blades slowly rotating on their belt; a particle beam-scythe, the steel hand holding it twitching slightly in anticipation; two long blades, each welded solidly onto a sturdy wrist, crossed above a plated chest; a gigantic one-handed rifle, MV bayonet extended.

The word was given, and then they launched.

The Doctor considered himself a man of peace, out of all the things he knew of himself. The Time War, as far as he was concerned, was a nasty exception that shouldn't have happened, and did not change that status. He also knew of himself as a Judge. From a certain angle, the accusations of being a 'space cop' were quite true. From another, that was a puerile misunderstanding. Every once in a while, his decisions would lead to stars going nova, galaxies flying apart, and civilizations who had gone too far ceasing to exist. As far as he was concerned, he was in the right. Most of the time, he had given those who angered him a very clear, even polite, chance to stop whatever they were doing and find another way. This was reasonable and fair, as a judge should be. In the old days, there were times when he didn't even give them that. He HAD mended his ways! He'd even tried to reason with the DALEKS, for Rassilon's sake! So why did all the legions of the cold stars still refuse his potentially helping hand?

He shifted in the cushioned seat, staring idly up at the contacts shifting about like excited insects on the map screen. It left a bitter feeling every time his attempts to play fair were rejected. But what, or rather who, he was dealing with now both intrigued and galled him. Normally, he loathed the military, regardless of time or place, as a load of wasted talent, minds, and lives, all spent in killing or enforcement instead of something really useful or creative. All those obedient little tin soldiers were so BORING to talk to, no scientific interest at all! And they're so blunt, so unable to comment with any interest on the weird things they confronted alongside him. And with the latest trigger happy crazie to work with him, this loathing was at a level he hadn't seen in years.

He aimed a baleful look at the insignia branded into the bare steel above the screens. "Bloody maniac..." the Time Lord muttered to himself. A schizoaffective, split-persona-ed, egotistical, blood thirsty soldier-king, who thought little of enslaving or seducing thousands of men and women to his will, and (this made his blood boil) had set about ordering him around with even less respect than those bothersome U.N.I.T. generals, lying to him repeatedly. FURTHER, he'd gotten the Chronarch thrown into this pointless battle, stuck on the other side of the world from where he really needed to be. Why was he even working with him anyway? Lelouch was just as bad as some of the worst monsters he had ever brought down!

The Time Lord closed his eyes, and puffed out a frustrated sigh. And yet...

His henchmen were an interesting crowd, who seemed to be decent people, despite being of a military sort themselves. Besides the unwilling but seemingly happy fanatical Letters, there was that bizarre family of three, Margrave Jeremiah the cyborg, Sayoko the ninja-maid , and Anya the enforcer.

From what they had told him (which, for obvious reasons, he at first took with grain of salt), they were Lelouch's family retainers, in the feudal style of things, his knights. Their loyalty was of the old-fashioned kind that made him smile a little, entirely separate from the fascist style of the Letters. Apart from the enthusiasm they put into their work (and the theme-ing of their costumes) they appeared to be fairly normal. Thus, he was able to take them seriously when they spoke of the war lord being a kind master. He'd disbelieved them for a moment, but found no signs of exaggeration or lying. He would have to keep that in mind for the long term, in case he would be forced to bring the game to a close.

The other people to consider were what the Time Lord tentatively called the Consorts, the pieces in the long game that if he could sway to his side, would win it for him. First to be wary of was the strange, viridian-haired adept calling herself C2. Sharp witted, and with a mind to equal that, she was already formidable enough without taking into account her offensive and intrusive psychic abilities. She was also loyal to Lelouch, the reason for which being fairly obvious. Normally, he would leave her be simply for that reason, but he had spotted something a few days before that opened up a few possibilities. If he wasn't mistaken, despite her apparent proficiency with the power, the actual 'Geass' itself could become unstable within certain parameters, in this case, emotion. With a cold smile of his own, he remembered the exact nature of that emotion, having seen a lesser version of it recently: Jealousy.

The target of said jealousy, however, was frustratingly beyond his reach, one of the most crucial pieces on the board: The fierce and fanatically loyal amazon, Kallen Kouzuki. Part of what made her difficult is that Lelouch had put her on guard, with an almost insufferably smug feel of making it grindingly obvious. Because if he so much as sneezed wrong in her presence, or worse, in front of her boss... He didn't really want to think what she'd do to him. If he ever tried to engage her even in something as banal as the weather, she'd scan it carefully for some sort of threat, like the paranoid soldier-type she already was.

What bugged him most though was that he couldn't quite understand why they were so loyal, what they saw in him, as neither of them did so under the sway of the Geass. Seduction seemed like the most plausible answer, given the cold charm he seemed to exude when calm, as well as a manipulative talent that would make his Seventh incarnation proud. But that didn't seem like the whole answer, only part of it. The way the warlord and his Grey Witch moved around each other, as well as the teasing manner they treated each other with at mealtimes, didn't remind him so much of a teenage couple as it did a married and adult one. It was as if they had made a pact similar to the vows, but without any of the formality.

At a glance, he could say that, biologically, the green haired witch was a well-developed sixteen year old girl. Her mind couldn't be further from that. As far as he had dared to ask, he had found her Far older than anyone else on that farm, somehow. She'd clammed up the moment he used the word 'centuries' as a guess of how old she was, which proved his hunch instantly.

And now that he thought it over, he felt his millennia-old bones creak with how familiar the answer was: Loneliness. Boredom. Despair.

He shook his head vigorously, as if ridding it of fleas or cobwebs.

He couldn't weaken himself with his own problems. Not here, not now.

He was about to consider the fiery bodyguard, then gave up on it, not wanting to bring back some of his most recent painful memories so quickly.

So he stared around the cockpit, bored silly. Lelouch had forbade him from leaving the Crowley until the situation had stabilized. At the moment, the only other people in that massive hanger were the somewhat dreary Zero (idling inside the NKR-01) and Kallen(inside her own tailored instrument of death), and neither of them felt like chatting.

The Time Lord started going through the com channels, looking for something somehow less boring than the chatter from further a field. Alpha-Nine: "DEATH TO THE TRAITORS! GLORY TO THE-"

Thralls. Not easy on the eardrums when excited, he noted, rubbing his ears as he quickly switched the channel. KING-SWORD.

"You are most persistent in your opinions, ladies and gentlemen, still quite determined to see your own ways through. I'll warn you now, I'm fast losing patience with this stupidity. You are small, and your judgments are still impotent." Sneered a familiar voice gloatingly. Sounds like he's having fun, the Doctor thought glumly, half-tempted to switch the channel, but continuing to listen.

"So says the madman and war criminal with only an army to rule over! If you do not surrender, we will grind your smirking face into the dust like a criminal deserves!" Snarled a man with a sharp Marseilles accent. Various other enraged cries flavored with the sounds of Europe and Central Asia filled the airwaves, punctuated by a low, mocking chuckle.

"ORDER! This is helping to solve NOTHING! Monsieur Corapp, if you will not calm down, and more importantly stop agitating the rest of this assembly, I will shut you and any others speaking for France out of this conference! Now will you kindly SETTLE DOWN?" The voice of the irate Kaguya Sumeragi shouted, beginning to go hoarse.

"FOUL! The President is standing right next to him!" Roared a distinctly Knightsbridge originating voice, along with fluting accents of the Orient attempting to shout over this.

And then... "SIIIIIIIIIIILENCE!"

And so there was silence. For it was the normally soft-spoken Prince Sukarit who had put forth that bellow, and no one in their right mind had expected it.

The representative of the Protectorate Kingdom of Siam cleared his throat, then spoke, with a crisp, stoic diction. "Requesting the floor, addressing the Former Ninety-ninth Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Madame President, in order to perhaps mete out a solution."

"Granted." Kaguya said, sounding relieved.

There was a 'tchah!' from the warlord, but the Thai man went on to speak. "As a matter of course, Mr. Britannia, we must know exactly what it is we can provide you if we are to resolve this... kerfluffle peacefully. To begin with, are we correct in the terms that you are no longer a part of the Holy Britannian Empire? That you are no longer entitled with the privileges of the Royal Family of said empire?"

"Yes, to both... Please use Lamperouge when you address me, good sir. As you say, I am no longer part of that... obsolete hulk. I'm just a man who wants to make some major changes in the world. You get these men every so often. After all, was it not your grandfather who introduced the Treaty of Phrom-Tanh, which ended the Second World War and enabled peace for three generations? I hold your family in high esteem, Phra Chao Worawongse Ther Phra Ong Chao." The warlord spoke, reciting the title flawlessly.

The assembly went quiet, but mostly out of confusion rather than respect. The Prince, after a snort of amusement, genteelly replied. "Well, it's been a while since I've been called that title by someone from outside my country. You are well lettered, Mr. Lamperouge. My thanks. *Eh-hem* What changes did you wish to carry out? But... really, why should we listen to you, regardless of wanting a peaceful resolution? Our country has no real quarrel with you, nor do many nations bordering us." Several murmurs of assent came from the representatives of Burma and Malaysia; Cambodia remained in a sullen silence.

"Simple. I want those under me recognised as an independent nation." Said Lelouch. "Not much to ask for, is it?"

The Doctor puffed out a sigh. He really is milking this crowd in every way he can, isn't he? He thought blandly, switching to another channel. DRAKE. Huh. Is this one of the squad command channels? The Time Lord looked it over, and then found that it required a password. Interest piqued, he activated the TARDIS link he had worked into the acoustic targeting computer, getting the password almost instantly. Mildly surprised that there was no second verification required he started listening in.

"-but of all things, crocheting? How does a Knight even KNOW how to crochet, let alone want to?" howled the voice identified as CD9, male, low register, and sounding as if in his mid-twenties.

"Ever ripped a sock? Torn some slacks, shredded a sleeve? Yeah, this is a pretty handy little hobby I have here, greenie, you should try it. Time killer AND practical." Taunted an much older, even lower registered woman's voice, marked NE5.

There was a pause, an intake of breath, then...

"I'm a KNIGHT! There is no way in Hell I'd do... KNITTING!" Spat CD9.

"Whatever you say, greenie. The next time you get that expensive jacket of yours burnt through, you can't ask me or White hair to patch it up for you. Oh, and knitting isn't the same thing as crocheting." Murmured a roughly middle register female voice, DE7.

"GAH! I don't care, I don't Care! Lets just get moving on to business. Where we can ALL have fun!" Growled CD9.

"Oh no, the topic isn't worn out at all! The first uses a hook to move the yarn. Knitting just uses a needle and thread..." said another low-register female voice (MK4) airily.

The Time Lord snickered upon hearing the truculent CD9 let out a frustrated hiss, noting how his connection to the channel started fluctuating wildly, static making the knight's beginning rant indistinct. "Ohhh, I'm not giving up that easy..." The Doctor muttered, redirecting more power into the transmitter. The interference cleared. Too much. The audio/visual feed activated, and a quintet of faces came up on the screen, all looking annoyed or surprised. The centre face(KR1), that of a young man with straw-blond hair and scowling features that looked like they should naturally be smiling, regarded him balefully. The Chronarch grinned impishly at them all, giving a little wave. "Hello there, I'm the Doctor! Nice talk about sewing there, good effort keeping it up, and yes Miss E, it's a Very handy hobby. Still wrong on what goes where, but oh well. So... I take it you're Britannian knights?" He chirped as blithely as he had done thousands of times before. For a second, they just stared at him. The older woman with the off-white hair raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You could say that. Although I'd like to think we're on a higher level than most..."

"Oh? Higher level of knights? Don't think I've heard of you. Don't know of any Knights of the Strand, Knights of the Garter..." The Chronarch twittered, the wheels of his mind moving at top speed.

The lighting of the video feeds changed to a darker shade of red, each pilot pressing down a switch on the sides of their cockpits.

The blond man fixed him with a look of haughty contempt. "We are the Knights of Round, dog of the 99th, and we will bring your end to you very soon." he announced.

The Time Lord leaned back in his seat, allowing his expression to harden slightly, but not fully dropping the impish smile. Almost the opposite from what I read on him with the git's little bingo book. He should be less serious than this, even under a direct Imperial order. I wonder... He connected the com channel to the main battle-net, saying as he did so, "In other words, all the Queen's horses and all the Queen's men and women. Gino Weinberg, Claudio Darlton, Nonnette Enneagram, Dorothea Ernst, and Monica Kruszewski. Huh. What do you make of this, Colonel?"

Another face appeared on the rapidly expanding holographic screen, followed soon after by the VOC indicators for Kallen and Zero.

The Emperor In The Shadows looked down his nose at the gathered knightly visages(as much as it was possible to do with this system), seeming very grave despite the amount of contempt the gaze held.

"I know why you are here. I understand why you are here as well. In the end, you are in my domain, along with USJ AND UFN airspace. And the Empire usually respects the borders of those latter two, right? You don't seem to understand that you are on unsafe ground, servants of Britannia. Know that I am a tolerant man. I will give you one chance and one chance only, to leave this city with your lives, dignity, and honor intact. Otherwise..."

*Snap*

The illusory wall around the midlevel hanger bay dispersed, unveiling the instruments of bloody work within. The Doctor's Crowley had been standing 'at attention' for quite some time, it's horn-like radio antennae twitching. The Time Lord powered up the engine's weapon systems, carefully setting the acoustic plates. To his sides were the NKR-01(in St. George configuration), lance at the ready and wings extended, and the powerful weapon piloted by Kallen Kouzuki, the latest iteration of the feared Guren: Shuurajou. As much as he despised the purpose of the crimson and black giant, the Doctor found himself admiring the craftsmanship put into it. All smooth lines, no sharp angles. There were finneons to project float wings, but they were of the smooth variety similar to that found in Buddhist designs. The 'head' of the metal beast still had that sort of squat Thracian helmet style to it, but the area around the neck servos had been covered with a choker, like the bottom half of a medieval European plate helmet. The torso armor had been reinforced with a strong fibers, giving it a slightly organic look, almost like musculature. Especially notable, however, were the claws of the machine. In place of the steel right arm, rigged with the mechanisms for the microwave weapon, there was a darkened titanium structure smoothly covering the charge routers for a massive trio of shearing blades, clacking together slowly, red sparks flying whenever they joined. The left claw was a fully articulate hand with six long, deceptively delicate looking digits. Strangely, this was the arm that held the Guren's primary ranged weapon, set into the wrist with the muzzle projecting out from the centre of the palm, the fingers designed to act as a focusing mechanism when the gun was fired.

Behind them were dozens of knightmares equipped for aerial combat, the Aerolancers, frames based off the design of the Vincent Ward, and then modified with facets from the NKR line. These relied on the same combat specialty of the ground-forces, using both their long swords and concussion rifles even at close range. As it stood right then, the odds were equal.

"I will destroy this intrusion utterly. Britannia has no power over me! NONE! Surely you can see that the object of your misguided quest is completely safe in my hands? Your job is over. This. is. completely. foolhardy. So kindly go back to your decaying hulk of a country, before I lose my temper. You have one minute exactly to comply with my demands." Lelouch hissed.

"I'm afraid that will be completely unacceptable." stated a crisp, higher register voice, marked HBE-G1.

Another face appeared on the screen with a tone; bespectacled, hook-nosed, raven haired, and stern as ever, Knight of Honor G.P. Guilford glared furiously at those in his way. "Retrieving Princess Nunnally was and is the primary objective of this mission. The second now in place, also mandatory, is the assured complete destruction of 'That depraved bastard', to quote my Empress. Therefore, there was no room for negotiation or demands to begin with, the exception being that you, Lelouch Lamperouge, die like a dog in the streets!"

The Doctor looked ahead at the warship and the Knights, and saw thirty more knightmares fly out from the sides, red and blue painted chassis clearly visible. He zoomed in on one of them, and noted the grey and red St. John's cross insignia. The data came up immediately after he searched the symbol. Cold Stream guard, Mechanized Company. The only Britannian army unit to nearly equal the Knights of the Round in terms of prestige and respect. This was well earned, as they had the honor of accompanying the Emperors and Empresses themselves into battle. They piloted the new Wight class knightmare frames, armed with MV halberds and VARIS guns built into their right wrists, covered by a round blast shield. Helms forged in the breadbox style of plated Medieval enforcers gleamed in the firelight, the red and green optics covering them blinking on and off in a strangely inhuman way; upon the heavily armoured chest plates were embossed the seal of the Royal Family, glimmering dully. The halberds were drawn up in a half-arch salute while the rifles were folded out and trained on the hanger.

The Doctor was expecting to see a reaction from the warlord. A snort of contempt, a maniacal laugh, maybe even the start of a strange rant. Instead, there was an anger constricted rasp through compressed lips .

"So be it. You've sealed your own fate. You might as well have accepted the task of stopping a hurricane. I have nothing more to say."

Lelouch's face flicked off in the Britannian channel, and flicked back on in the battle network, this time with that familiar smirk. "Tear them from my sky. If you wish, you can just disable the knights, but otherwise fight to kill. They CANNOT be allowed into the Tower. That is the overarching objective here. A war with Britannia would be highly inconvenient, and right now I can't afford any more major setbacks. I will ask of all you 'knights' under my command to fight as if this world depended on it to keep moving. Zero. You know what to do: Protect your princess, atone for yesterday. Doctor. You've fought in wars before, and you fought in the field this morning. Fight as if it was for your home world, however lost it may be. Kallen. It'll be just like the old days, another Red Day. Just remember those days, and today shouldn't be different at all. All others... I don't need to even ask..." He said, clearly and crisply. He appeared to mull things over, idly tapping at the red tactical display outside of the picture. The warlord suddenly lunged forward, teeth bared in a travesty of a smile, bellowing, "GO FORTH AND WIN ME ANOTHER!"

YES, MY EMPEROR.

The Knights of the Shadow Empire roared from their aerie, weapons and armor gleaming in the sickly light of flames and curtained sun. The Cold Stream and the Rounds charged the Tower in counter.

Immediately, the most elite soldiers on either side went straight for each other.

One shone with fresh paint, clearly visible, its lithe frame shifting in the high winds to position the lance onto its side. It's helmet was crafted to resemble that of an Eighteenth Century Britannian dragoon, the brim extending over where the eyes would be to form a visor, while the crest of armor bore a full set of peacock feathers.

The silver/blue zephyr that was Bors raced toward the St. George, the latter raising his lance just in time to realign that of the former with sharp scrape of metal and a shower of sparks, the angel readying a flaying slash with the extendible claws. The knight flinched away from the shearing tendrils, knocking them aside with the lance, then grinding out a point-blank blaze of cannon fire into the float-panel shield. The false founder replied with a vicious series of chops, swings, and thrusts delivered at a sound-barrier breaking speed. The Bors was continually forced to give ground to this assault, manipulating its' deflection barrier to focus around the kinetic lance to give his parrying strikes a margin of error, as well as a blunt element, should he finally connect a blow. The Bors suddenly hurtled backward, flaring its float engines attached to the back of the legs and arms, and then screamed forth in a charge toward the already speeding angel. They slammed their shoulder panels together with a crack like thunder, lances scraping against each other at a diagonal parallel, their free arms grappling. This stalemate went on five more seconds, before they both pushed downward, speeding toward the broken pavement with a shriek of sheering winds and straining engines. A meter before they would hit the street, the angle of the lances shifted, and the two superior frames zipped out toward the few unbroken skyscrapers at ever increasing speed. The skyline became even worse for wear at that moment, the two wildly crashing and slicing throughout it.

One looked to the purple and blue demon, its helm rotating on its neck. Great fin-like 'horns' jutted out facing backwards, twitching slightly like those of its opposite number. Black steel served as a 'mask' for the knightmare, crimson optics peering out. On its enlarged shoulder glowed a miniaturized Factsphere, 'blinking' with the use of its shutter. The left arm itself was gold painted, but constructed from something much stronger, likely some highly rigid polymer, military grade heavy servos working to hold the massive rifle level; said rifle came in roughly three sections, the needle blaze projector, the heavy VARIS cannon, and the MV bayonet. All three glowed with lethal power.

The royal purple and gold titan Ector flew at the Doctor, sending blazes of directed energy into his sonic shield, the Time Lord having determined at the start of this that he would Only knock the pilot from the skies. Thus, he had immediately sprung up onto one of the more European-styled Tower ramparts, where there was sufficient resonance for him to maybe try something new. So far, it wasn't it wasn't working as well as he'd thought it would. A needle trail whipped over the alien head of his knightmare, cutting a sizable gouge into the wall, followed by another volley of magnetically accelerated rounds, rubble clanking off the back of the Crowley's armor. He skated across the walkway, seeking a tunnel for him to lure the Knight of Five into. "Ah-ah-ah, you're not going to lead me on any tour, Doctor. You're going to stay Right here." Chuckled the Knight, another needle blaze slicing through the rampart in front of the Doctor. The frame sagged, and then swung around to send a shrieking wall of sound in reprisal.

"What's wrong? Don't like the architecture?" The Time Lord chided, briefly activating the float wings for a leap over to the other side of the wall.

"Nope. Can't stand tour guides. Don't like Londoners either. Now be a dear and hold still."

Another part of the wall disintegrated with a flash, the Crowley stumbling before lifting off again, concentrating a blast of sound. "Hey, it's not our fault for being a bit... CHEEKY!"

He hadn't expected the bulky knightmare to move so fast, to be right in front of him when he released the charge. The frame had stormed forward after detaching the bayonet from its rifle, using it like a sword. The shape of the frame distorted and warped, as if caught in a heat haze, flying backward in what seemed to be a green bubble. On closer inspection, he saw the war machine was enclosed in the scaled, closely interlocked plates of the barrier. With a roar of static, Nonnette's voice came through the channel, the words friendly, but the tone was completely colorless. "You ARE an interesting one. Let's carry this on just a little longer, shall we?"

To even his own surprise, the Doctor smiled a little, unlocking the blades on the Crowley's arms. "Yes I am and yes we SHALL!"

The Guren blocked another swipe from the Tristan's MV scythe, sending a fireball back at it's owner. The blaze was easily blocked, but there was no follow up to the parry. The red, blue, and bronze painted knightmare just floated there, seemingly weighing the scythe in it's hands. The Guren, however, was not going to stop, punching out with its right claw and boiling the air around it.

"C'mon Gino, I've had warm-ups harder than this! Step it up already! If we're going to have a duel, be a gentleman and give me all you can! I can't go full power unless you do first. It's just not fun!" The Crimson Lotus chided, a cocky grin across her face.

She blasted the space between them with concentrated cone of crackling energy, the Tristan again backing up instead of just cutting through the wave.

Gino's voice came through the channel right as he blocked a jab, again not countering it. The voice was unnaturally cold. "Why did you decide to follow him? I thought you liked your old career..."

The pilot raised an eyebrow, moving the Guren into a brief frenzy of slashing claws, parried and yet again backed away from. "Is it any of your business right now, flyboy? Well, if it clears some things up, no, my old job was BORING. You would know, this is a lot more fun than flying around for tests. Now stop making this duel feel like a flight test! FIGHT ME."

The Tristan Divider suddenly sprang to life, a blaze of white fire forcing the crimson death machine to duck or be decapitated. In that moment, the knightmare snared the Guren's Immolator claw with its MV scythe, yanking it in closer while simultaneously seizing the blaster arm, forcing it to point away. Gino's scowling face flicked into view on the com screen, eyes unusually intense. "Kallen Stadtfeld Kouzuki, you are making a serious mistake. Lelouch is Not worth giving up your ideals for-"

"I think you're the one making a mistake. I told you it was none of your business, Gino..." The Ace said, still smiling, but taking a bit more effort this time. The Guren kicked out, trying to knock it away, but the scythe held fast.

"It is my business, and always will be. I knew you long enough to care about where you go, and what you do with your life." The Knight of One stated curtly.

The crimson war machine opened its claw and shoved, discharging its microwave weapon at the same time set to wide-range, forcing the Tristan to let go. The Guren lunged forward, flaying the air with its claws.

"What are you, my dead older brother? I think I'm old enough to choose what I want to do with my life, thank you Very much!" The Lotus snarled, seizing the knight by the tips of its left hand and readying a surge. It was then that the blue and gold frame did something unexpected, flipping the scythe so that the base of the weapon pointed at the Guren's chest. The small panels covering it splayed out like a metal flower- and then with a flash they contracted into a very thick cudgel, the frame using it to 'punch' the Shuurajou away.

"No, Kallen, I am going to be something very different, because I have to be. A strong and well-bred woman like you needs an equally strong man beside her, in thought and in reality." The Knight of One said, the intensity of his tone increasing disturbingly.

"Gino, what the Hell are you-"

"You BELONG to me, Kallen Stadtfeld Kouzuki. We're to be engaged by order of your father, head of the Stadtfeld line. I'm here to bring you home, Kallen." Gino hissed, trying to snare the Guren a second time. "This can be entirely painless, but only if you give up. This isn't negotiable. You're the only heir he has left."

The red knightmare smacked it away effortlessly, and then... went berserk. The right claw fused together with a blaze of energy, a vicious looking spike. At breakneck speed the Guren launched into a storm of thrusts, jabs, and bludgeoning swipes, driving the Tristan back.

"Well here's a bit of news for you: I belong to NO ONE. Not to you, not to that worthless man back in Britannia! I choose who to follow, not who owns me! Tell my 'father' to shove it! We were equals, maybe even friends, but nothing more! And now you're not even that to me. I'm going to burn you alive until I hear you apologize, GINO WEINBERG!" The Crimson Lotus bellowed, pushing the death machine to maximum power. In a flash, the Tristan sprang to action, countering her furious swings with a blur of metal and energy, the scythe eventually locking with the spike, a torrent of red sparks issuing forth. There was a whirl of motion, and the Guren flung its adversary towards one of the Tower's parapets, the mech launching a blaze of white light back at her as it forced itself to a stop. One moment the Guren was off in the distance, the next shredding through a cone of superheated air twenty feet away from its target.

As the Divider charged the Red Doom at an equal speed, Gino grinned, the com system deactivated. "Now we can really have some fun…" He muttered to himself.

It can be said that the more improbable something sounds, the less likely it is to function in reality. Such was never the case for the Orange Family, who were currently fighting off two more of the Knights using a mix of acrobatics and standing still. Such silly notions as not using every piece of the environment in a fight(including the enemy themselves) made Sayoko shake her head in despair. What were tacticians thinking these days if they didn't want soldiers to win? As such, she and the Hanzo bounced from surface to surface, slashing away at the two larger knightmares.

"Jeremiah, give me a hand! Anya, throw me a line!"

"Got it, Mom!"

The Hanzo fired its own line, snaring the slash harpoon and letting the float wings do their work. The knightmare swung through the air, bouncing off the shields of the Wight frames and dodging their blows easily.

A well-timed slice from her katana separated a guard from his flight pack, the pilot ejecting from the tumbling machine, rocketing away towards the warship. A massive claw slammed into another, providing a perch for the Hanzo to alight upon. The machine ducked to avoid a short volley of missiles, then turned to face whoever had launched them. She managed to raise her katana just in time to parry the massive axe blow swung down at her, the frame shaking from holding back the chained weapon.

Tor had risen. A horned helmet, domed and steely, and optics the color of the sun at high noon loomed over the ninja-like frame, its gaze somehow holding a chill menace, perhaps due to the creasing of the surrounding metal. The torso armor was done with a scaled pattern, not unlike a roman legionary, thick to the point where not even anti-armor rounds could pierce it. Its legs were heavily plated, made to hold the frame down when it took a swing.

The large orange and white mech bore down, pulling its diamond-hardened left gauntlet back for a punch.

"Hah!"

The harken line held as Sayoko boosted off the metal mitt, and the Tor overbalanced, its punch going wild. The massive titanium manipulator closed with a bang, starting to crush the frame within.

"NO ONE SNEAK ATTACKS MY WIFE!" Jeremiah roared, tightening the Ziz's grip.

"And you don't kill my partner, traitor." Said the voice of Dorothea Ernst.

A hail of bullets ripped into the claw servos and the giant was forced to open it to replace the armor over them. Jeremiah Gottwald grimaced as he turned to look at the Omnisensor screen.

The Aglovale was there, its sleek green and white frame shifting from side to side. The red visor of the Landsknecht sallet helm glowed, pinpointing all the vectors that could even slightly damage the behemoth. The blades attached to its arms buzzed, igniting fully into MVS'; the guns bolted into place across its silhouette whirred, reloading. The moment before it began firing its arsenal, the Ziz swung a massive claw toward the Aglovale. With barely the slightest use of power, the knight blasted out of the way, riddling the giant with AA rounds. In reprisal, slash harpoons fired from its shoulders, swinging around as blades on string. A volley of shells pounded into it's side, launched by the Tor. The Hanzo bounced off the Ziz' torso plating and slammed into the knight before it could launch another. They crashed down on top of an allied airship, the ninja keeping a hold on the Ziz' slash harpoon. A sweep of its axe would have bisected her if the Hanzo hadn't had the ability to bend over backwards. She snapped forward, countering another axe blow with the middle section of the katana, pushing the knightmare back.

Inside the Dreadnought, the pink-haired enforcer let loose a frustrated sigh.

"Dad, why can't we stop playing around and just knock them out?"

The cyborg smiled mysteriously. "Just hold off a little longer, Anya, and you'll understand why we're not taking them out."

She looked to the targeting controls for the slash harpoons, then whirled back around to face him, eyes wide. "Do you mean- The master has a plan?" She said breathlessly.

Jeremiah let a little bit more wickedness into that smile. "The master always has a plan. But you'll really like this one..."

"He let you know first? No fair." Anya groused, turning back around with an anticipatory grin.

Somewhere deep within the Tower, a Witch lay in wait. The cockpit buzzed with a hundred different frequencies all quietly operating at once. She watched one particular snarl of audio carefully, waiting for the words that would let her make her partner smile with glee once the deed was done. She liked it when he was pleased... All the better to puncture his ego, there and then. And yet...

"It's better thought out than most." The Gray Witch whispered to herself. "Still, not lacking in blood spilled. Oh well."

C.C. was the kind of person who enjoyed watching the complexities and gambits of history, one of the few things that kept her sane over the long centuries. The plans of her latest partner took on such a byzantine level that she found it an almost unending source of entertainment. Seeing them snap off, one after another in rapid succession was like watching one of those new-fangled supercomputers at work, but with more explosions. She'd started to like those, too.

She would admit to liking his expression and the emotions he bled off at these moments of triumph, shortly before knocking the wind from his sails. As for whenever a plan failed, and she found herself saving his arse, C.C. would never let him hear the end of it. Yet when something went horribly, horribly wrong, she couldn't bring herself to pile on the taunting. The one time she did, he'd had a near-complete breakdown. Not fun. Not in the least. Complete 180 from what she was used to.

The rapid recovery Lelouch displayed in the most massive set back he had suffered in 4 years was refreshing, entertaining... And a little frightening. She knew what went on in his mind, and what she knew was a frenzy of rage, hate, and murderous desire. C.C. had to pull out of his head lest she herself succumb to the fury. Really, she could truly understand now why Mao went completely and horribly insane. It wasn't just the information overload, it was the various foul impulses that 99.9% of all humanity possessed at any time. The Witch had developed a bond with her Daemon, within a certain distance able to share their thoughts. Which was part of why she was on the other side of the building. The other part...

"Monsieur Corapp, I really am at a loss as to why you persist in this inanity. It's obvious what I want, why can't you just give it to me? Scared of little young me and my army? Really, I'm not worth kicking up a fuss over, as you seem keen to repeat ad nauseam..." the monarch drawled, looking at the aged and oddly square face before him with undisguised contempt. A few keys were tapped, and the battlefield view was connected into the UFN network.

"As you can see, the Black Knights of South Africa and Russia were both routed. Further, their positions are now covered by my own battlenet. It is completely hopeless to resist me in the field as well as through the diplomatic channels. I am giving you one chance to redeem yourselves. Withdraw every last man and woman from this battlefield, or I will not stop until there no one left to withdraw. I don't make threats, only promises and ultimatums. You have one hundred and twenty seconds to tell me that this is done. Make Your Choice!" He growled, his lips curling into a sneer.

Don't give them the chance! Do it! DO IT! Get me video links and then KILL THEM ALL!

The voice screamed at the back of his skull, wrestling away the other two personae. Lelouch's blood was running hot again, and his neuroses were feeding on that. The monster was on the rise.

From the viewscreen, he could see the shock and fear on all their faces. They would crack any second now, and this entire debacle would come to an end. All that he had to do now was defeat the Britannian task force. Maybe he wouldn't even have to bring in his biggest trump card. Denying his enemies both outside and literally inside was key here. He wanted the Black Knights command structure to be at least functionally intact, seeing as only half of the hemispheral divisions had gone rogue. One more prompt...

" You do understand what you'll be held responsible for should you not come to a decision, right? You can't give that line about, 'We don't negotiate with terrorists', can't puff yourself up in self-righteous defiance. You comply, I let your people withdraw. Think about your people, ladies and gentlemen. Or, failing that, think of your own reputations. I see a few notes of resignation in your futures..." The warlord trailed off with a smirk. At his side, Kaguya Sumeragi pinched the bridge of her nose.

Come on, give the poor girl a rest from all the hammy antics. We didn't have to do the time limit, did we?

Oh yes, we did. Those pencil-pushers won't move fast without a fire lit under their arses. And she looks strong enough to handle a little more, wouldn't you agree?

Ahhhahhaha, this is so. Nothing worse than usual. We're not actually doing anything to her now, are we? ARRRRE WE-

'No, we're not. Shut up so I can hear myself think.'

Nononono. You have an obligation to your Id. I called it. Your plan didn't work. A global catharsis bringing world peace? Hah! Well, I can't complain with the result-

'I said Shut up. It will work. As soon these people sign off on saving what's left of their men, we can focus on the REAL problems, Saxon and Britannia. That enough blood for you?'

Hhnnnn... Okay, that's good enough. Hehheheheh. A few of them are going to refuse anyway. See? See that stupid defiance? We're going to have a Euro bloodbath on our hands.

As the representatives of the Orient and Africa scrambled to make their ceasefire known, ten men and women stared at him with unmasked hate. Chief among them was the British representative, Peter Gosling, who, of all things, was actually smirking at him!

"You can't take all of us. You had millions under your command once, but now? You're having trouble fighting off a Britannian strike force. Even if you manage to hold them off, we're not giving up so easily. You and your Suppression Battalions raped our nations. The collective might of Europe will not-"

" Twenty three seconds. Twenty two. Twenty one. Are you sure your own people will ever forgive you? Nineteen..." Lelouch hissed, a gleeful smile across his lips.

Kaguya seized his arm, looking furious. "That's enough, all of you. This is a summit to make peace, not threats!"

The Frenchman stared relentlessly on into the warlord's eyes, saying without breaking his gaze, "We attended this session in order to see if the rest of the Federation would see sense. Obviously this was futile."

"Fourteen. Thirteen. They did. You didn't. Too bad. Nine-"

"We will not stand for a monster like you returning to power. Neither will our people." Growled the Mongolian delegate.

"Then you won't stand at all, Mongol. Five. Four."

The Ten chanted as one. "We. Will."

"Two. One. Zero. My, but your dedication is strong. And thoroughly disgusting." Lelouch snarled, the smile now gone. "Do you have any idea what war with me entails? Suicide. The rest of you ladies and gentlemen have shown some wisdom. However temporary that is. Oh don't look at me like that. Truce, in order to reload one's gun, is always a viable strategy. The ten of you, on the other hand, are as sound as a stampeding herd of elephants. It is my now my will as king that we are formally at war. Care to see what happens to those who just charge me without a plan?"

Η

Out on the broken courtyard of the Tower, thousands of infantrymen and pilots watched the battle above, taking their shots whenever the action got close enough. Those not actively taking part in the fight watched the distant duels from improvised bunkers. They saw flashes of light and fire around the skyscrapers, distant clashes of weapons on armor. The two shapes then began zooming back towards the Tower, lances clattering. Past the warship they went, ricocheting off the frigates. A slam like thunder, and the dragoon was hurled toward the ground, its lance ejecting sparks. The float-wings flared out from it's calves in an attempt to slow the descent, but the angel above was to have none of it. Claw-tendrils whipped downward, snaring the knightmare, then pinning it to the ground. A metal hand rose to defiantly seize one of the tendrils, only to freeze in place as motor control was disrupted. The Bors deactivated, its pilot trapped inside. The St. George came down to rest atop a pile of rubble, indicating that personnel retrieve this new prisoner.

Η

"You see, I always prepare for the worst," the warlord hissed. "and this is nothing."

The red holo-display shifts, two Britannia-aligned markers being re-designated friendly.

Η

The Ector blasted down the causeway, VARIS discharging at an increased rate. The Crowley in return kept it's sonic field constant, letting loose a wave to slow the other slightly. Much of the battlements on their level had be wrecked beyond repair as a result. In fact, some parts of it wouldn't hold up any longer. The purple and blue mech raced ahead, dodging and weaving with practiced ease around the VARIS rounds and blazes. Through a tunnel in the fortification the alien demon sped, the Ector following. Once on the other side, the Crowley turned round and let loose every ounce of acoustic power at its disposal to resonate through the structure. The knight put up shields, but as a result, all of her visual systems went blurred. She plowed through into the other side, only to find nothing there.

"Gotcha!"

There was all the warning Nonnette Enneagram got before the tunnel collapsed on top of her frame, pinning it.

The Time Lord opens the cockpit of his own frame, checking the pile of rubble for life-signs.

Η

"Five. Little. Knights." Lelouch spat. "Care to see what I can do with two of those?"

Η

Behind all that armor and circuitry, the pilots of the Tor and Aglovale grin in psychically-induced euphoria. Targeting reticules are readjusted, weapons are charged, thrusters are fired.

"Fire to disable and emasculate..."

Η

"What havoc the hand of a traitor can wreak! What plans can be utterly destroyed!" The Emperor gloats. "What small endeavors can become utterly pointless in his or her wake!"

Η

With a roar like thunder, the crimson death machine that is the Guren Shuurajou charges its prey, primary claw burning white, power at full. The Tristan responds in kind, scythe held high. The pair of death machines strike each other, the Guren holding the scythe still by the shaft. The microwave emitter activates, and the Tristan lets go of the weapon before it is destroyed, firing away with his chest mounted guns. The red war machine dodges these with ease, blasting off it's own air-searing barrage. The Tristan is forced to slow down slightly to avoid being hit. Which is all the Guren needs to get in close. Millions of pounds worth of material melts with a shriek of metal and a triumphant shout, coming to rest on another of the Tower's causeways. Gino Weinberg stares up at the cockpit ceiling with a satisfied grin, before allowing himself to pass out.

Bullets and anti-armour rounds slam into the barrier luminators, then weapons control, the fire coming from the absolute last expected position. Smoking and toothless, the Crusade Manifest hangs in the air like a shining storm cloud, unable to retreat, and unable to proceed. Meanwhile, the Sieg Ziz looms above it. There is a series of clanks and whirrs, and then what appears to be a great cannon rises up and over from it's back to above the helmet-like head. Inside, a mechanically augmented hand reaches for the big black button, only to be smacked away by a much daintier one.

"Only Mom gets to push the Big Button." Reprimanded Anya.

Η

"You can do nothing to me. Even though your forces outnumber mine, I will carry the day. Your decision to oppose me was presumptuous." Lelouch von Britannia nee Lamperouge sneered, feeling the urge to laugh rising. The various diplomats and representatives look either afraid, angry, or forcibly neutral. The Russian delegate speaks, determined.

"We oppose you for what you did to our nations, monster. Our peoples want justice. You had your chance-"

"So did YOU. No "justice" will be served today, save for that of the man wronged today. Save for the man who knows when he cannot lose. Save for the man who will have his Country by the day's end!" The Overlord was outright grinning now, the feelings of triumph roaring to the forefront. "You will lose everything you stood to gain from this. Your armies, the respect of your people..."

The coup-de-grace of this whole rant, one press of a button away.

Do it!

The Hanzo links up with the Sieg Ziz, its pilot transferring from one cockpit into another. Jeremiah and Anya grin. This is only the second time the Aegis Cannon has ever been fired. For them, and for Sayoko to a degree, it's the most expensive and lethal fireworks display they'll ever see. The maid's finger hovers over the button, waiting for the command.

The warlord stands, fingers aligning all cameras to focus on the Zieg Ziz and it's steaming cannon. He slams a palm down into the solid part of the display, pointing with the other hand.

"Do you see that cannon? It is one of the most powerful weapons in my arsenal. Care for a demonstration?"

The Family Orange appears on the screen, faces lit a cold blue. They are beginning to get twitchy with anticipation. Sayoko is the one to speak.

"The weapon is primed, sir. Permission to fire?"

Lelouch glances at the French delegate for a moment, then hisses.

"Granted. Now, see truly what you are dealing with."

The cannon glows, white light spiralling around it with increasing acceleration, the air boiling around it, becoming like a cloud. A low roar became audible.

- "Aegis Cannon is at full power. Commence firing in 3...2...1...0."-

A white gloved hand came down on the button. And then it seemed as if the Sun itself had come down, everything going a blinding white. The was no sound, save for the ear-splitting howl of forcibly-created gale force winds in the blowback. The glow subsided, and the Britannian warship was still there, barely hovering, the various knightmares clinging to it's sides. Off in the distance, a hole had been bored into Mount Fuji, burning white hot; around it, fourteen smoldering black marks were charred into the sides.

The Warlord stood, teeth gleaming, his audience both on the channel and in the room wearing either appalled or impressed expression.

"There go your regrouping airships, Gentlemen. How does it feel to know this war is already won? What can you do to me?"

The Russian Delegate found his voice. "One cannon. That's all you-"

SLAM.

Standing at full height, face flush with triumph, Emperor Lelouch grinned down at those he thought were becoming mere gnats against his will.

"What. Can. You. Do? NOTHING! My demand is that you Surrender, Before-"

*CRACK*

From close range, the bullet went straight through the monarch's heart from behind and out through the front. The assailant was immediately tackled to the ground, but not before he managed to turn the weapon on himself.

"Whaaaaathhachhhhh-"

A hand was tightly held to the profusely bleeding wound, the Daemon King reeling backwards in shock.

*CRACK*

The second shot came from below, from one of the towers untouched by the assault, personnel rushing it with guns and bayonets. The second round burst right through Lelouch's voicebox to break against the wall, blood splattering everything and everyone in the vicinity. The Emperor doubled over, frantically switching off the conference link just as he retched blood onto the device. The thralls moved to assist him, but he threw out an arm to hold them back. A horrible realization seemed to hit him as he jerkily looked downward, into the rumble far below. He turned his head to look at Kaguya, directly into her eyes, a sadly resigned and apologetic expression on his face. He mouthed the next words. "Look Away."

*CRACK*

With the third shot, the top half of Lelouch v. Britannia's head came apart in an explosion of blood, brain matter, bone, and hair. Then, once her eyes were open, the President screamed.

Tappita tap. Tappita tap...

Everyone, this is Eta. Please tell me what you think, and I will continue editing this beast. I won't bore you with the reasons for why this was so late, but they are many. And they will not happen again.

Again, tell me what was good, as well as what needs improvement.

Also, yes, Monica and Dorothea being alive will be explained. Not as simple as "they survived" either.