[Geass][short]0^2:To sit upon the frozen throne

[Rieverre]

Another impulse scribble. In my defense, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
---
"Yo, boss, you gonna mourn?"
"Why? What would be the point? Death poems won't bring the dead back, after all, no matter how hard you try."
"Cold, boss. Real cold. What would Haydee-chan say if she heard you talking like that?"
"Mm, not much, I expect. Well, no use in staying around, we have what we came for."
"Hah! Too true! You've gotta love these nobles, no? All that pride - they don't dare to not pay up! Though ... if we keep at that, word'll get around soon. Why not try some Elevens next?"
"Find me some wealthy ones, then. After all, we _are_ an equal opportunity enterprise, are we not? Let's go, Rivalz."
***
O^2:To sit upon the frozen throne
a oneshot concept-fic on a Code Geass base
by Griever
***
"Damn monkey! Even a geniuine Britannian isn't allowed to touch that."
Light flooded the dark and dank, casting shadows along the walls of the abandoned subway system, putting the immobile truck into stark relief and making him wince and squint his eyes.
Well, the hits just kept on coming, didn't they.
First, his supposed good deed for the decade put him in the middle of what looked like one of the more radical Elevens' terrorist operation, or its aftermath at the very least. Then, he ran across someone he'd have never expected to see again, right in the middle of the damn mess.
Just how and why Kururugi Suzaku had come to wear Britannian colors would be a matter for another day as well, though, as would the question of what an unconscious girl had been doing in a container that the grunts had been told held chemical weapons.
Well, no, not really. He had _some_ idea about that ...
"But I recognize your valor and will give you another chance," the Britannian officer, heading a squad of armed troops, informed Suzaku as he held out his sidearm for the young man to take. "Private Kururugi, take this and kill the terrorist."
"... but, but he's not one of them," Suzaku opposed. "He's just a civilian caught up in all of this!"
"You _dare_?!"
Wonderful. Just wonderful. But this was Suzaku, after all. And apparently he had not changed one bit, Lelouch thought.
This was not going to end well.
He was right.
It didn't.
***
Gunfire, echoing in the confines of the tunnels.
Muzzle flashes, tearing strips of darkness away with their brief, intense light.
The smell of spent gunpowder and coppery tint of spilled blood.
"What ... what's going on?"
"The usual for that sort of situation, I suppose. Some survived, some didn't, and some idiot blew up the truck," the purple eyes were sharp as jagged chips of ice. "We're fortunate to be among the former, I think. Or maybe the latter would have been better. It's all in the perspective, really."
Suzaku didn't quite know what to say to that. Certainly, he'd never expected to meet a long-lost friend in the middle of the Shinjuku-ghetto's underground. He'd expected even less to be shot at by his superiors.
The girl, grey clad and green-haired, ran alongside them, seemingly not all there at all from the expression on her face.
And beyond the walls, the sounds of hell incarnate reverbed, in cannon fire and explosions, collapsing concrete and screams.
They stepped out into the light, two floors above ground, looking down and out into a scene as if taken from Dante's Inferno. Suzaku could do naught but stare in denial and disbelief.
" ... why do they _do_ this?! There's no real threat, what terrorists were here are gone by now, surely!"
"Why indeed?" His old friend asked in a tone that was faintly mocking. "War ... war never changes. Too many humans, not enough space or resources to go around. The
details are trivial and pointless, the reasons as always: purely human ones."
There was a click as Lelouch's hand shot outwards, to the side, followed by the sharp crack of gunfire made almost deafening by proximity and acoustics. A Britannian soldier in full battle dress collapsed out of the doorway on the opposite end of the chamber, quite dead.
"Lelouch ... what _happened_ to you?"
The young man, his school uniform scuffed and marred by grime, the weapon uncaringly returned to his side once again, shrugged. "I care not. Clovis, the Prince Governor, aims to turn this little debacle into a cleansing, for which the Japanese themselves delivered him the perfect excuse. History will remember him as a hero, lauded for rooting out dangerous elements while pointing out the desire to preserve the lives of 'even' the Elevens in the ghetto, attributing casualties to the heartless and maniacal devotion of terrorists. And I care not, Suzaku. Not really."
He turned his head, and the blank look on his face was enough to have Suzaku backpedal before he collected his wits again.
Then Lelouch smirked. It was not a pretty expression. In fact, it was in a way the most frightening thing Suzaku had ever seen.
"But you care, don't you?"
A missile exploded nearby, sending glass and twisted metal through the air, and sending Suzaku diving to the ground and pulling the girl with him.
Lelouch had not even flinched.
"Would you like it, Suzaku? To stop this? To save them? Fool dreams, one and all, but to avert a massacre on their wings."
The purple-eyed youth eyed him thoughtfully, then turned his back.
"I would give my life!" Kururugi shouted in outrage.
"Then you throw it away."
"That is not lost which is freely given!"
"Girl," was spoken in a cold, cold tone of voice so unlike that of his friend, even at his most dispassionate, that Suzaku invoulantarily startled.
"Yes?"
The first word she'd spoken, and it was ... anxious? So many undertones to it that the young Japanese turned Britannian soldier was taken aback.
"We know of you. We _remember_. Do you know why?"
"... yes," more hesitant, almost fearful, and Suzaku could sympathize, because it almost seemed as if it were no longer Lelouch at all who was standing there, absurdity of the claim aside. "You are he, the bound sleeper, awakened anew by the malice of a human heart."
"Is that what you and yours call me? How droll," the not-Lelouch chuckled darkly. "You have a gift to give, do you not?"
"I cannot ... you are ... I cannot give it to you."
"Well, that's good, because we want it not. But your champion is here nonetheless."
The girl blinked, and turned, and faced Suzaku, who had but a moment to start as she reached out and laid her hand to his cheek.
And all was light.
***
So it begins, though really, for me it began a long time ago.
In a way, an eternity.
In a way, an eyeblink.
What is the worth of he who has lost everything?
His mother.
His name.
His home.
His beloved sister.
What does he seek?
Does he sow strife thought the world, or try to avert it. Or does he merely stand aside and watch?
I watched as my onetime friend sealed the pact, and the irony was not lost on me. Had I cared, this would have been mine.
But then, was it not caring that brought me to where I am?
Was it not caring, that drove me to the ends of the Empire the last blood had been drawn?
I watch Suzaku throw the stolen Knightmare into a charge, with all the spirit behind the name he chose to wear with the mantle of 'king' the girl bestowed upon him, and I know not what to feel.
So I do likewise.
And maybe, in time, I'll learn how to feel again. But ... not too much.
For him, this is about freedom. It's about noble goals, and pride, and all those things that would have been important to me once upon a time.
He is Rei.
It fits him, really.
For me? No. It has never been about freedom. I am far too spoiled for that, and these are not my people anyway. I have no 'people' as such, save for the few who've bound their causes to mine in the course of the past four years.
It's about something far, far simpler.
Retribution.
I am a mirror that reflects the atrocities back at their source. I am a blank slate that chronicles the failures of man. I am nothing, for nothing cannot be hurt, and cannot be stopped.
I am, for these people I speak with and direct now, Zero.
It has a pleasing ring to it.
Madame, Monsieur, bonsoir ... let me tell you a story.
***
END
***
---

Yes, Gankutsuou. 'nuff said.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[HoagieOfDoom]

Hmm. I like it, I like it a lot. However, I'm unsure about Suzaku having the Geas, or at least the same Geas as Lelouch.
Nevertheless, I give you mad props for combining Gankutsuo and Code Geas.*********
Touched By His Noodly Appendage
www.venganza.org

[Rieverre]

---

However, I'm unsure about Suzaku having the Geas, or at least the same Geas as Lelouch.

---

Projective empathy, actually. Fifty meters, no eye contact neccessary. You can see how this will eventually fuck up his life if, or rather when, it goes out of control, yes?
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[HoagieOfDoom]

Oh my god... That's EVIL. Damn, that's setting him up to become a bigger lunatic than Mao was.
I like it.*********
Touched By His Noodly Appendage
www.venganza.org

[Rieverre]

---

Madame, Monsieur, bonsoir ...
Welcome, welcome to the world that shakes in its foundations, as one who would be King is risen again.
My friend hath ventured back to the place where his resolve was forged, his plans still nebulous in their infancy.
Patience, my friend. Patience. You who share with me the aeons, the value thereof is not lost to you, nor is it too dear a price to pay for one to whom payment means naught.
We step forward into a new age, though chance and happenstance, where old acquaintances meet and pains are revisited.
The girl who would give power, and the one who would receive it. We know that one well.
My friend, the stage of destiny is set.
Show to those who would avoid retribution your heart of hearts.
Let them gaze upon it as they lie, dying, in a gutter of their own creation.
---
0^2:To sit upon the frozen throne
a Code Geass/Gankutsuou fic
by Griever
---
one: Suzaku of the Rebellion
It wasn't the flash, or the sound that arrived first in his mind. No, instead, it was the smell. Spilled blood on spent gunpowder.
Then came the rest.
Prior to this, he'd been a rookie. His scores exemplary, but lacking sorely in experience. This had been a chance for him to prove himself, and to start on that one endeavor that he'd set for himself when Area 11 had still been known as Japan. It was his life. The atonement for his sin.
What had started as a simple recovery of a stolen chemical weapon, and his first combat deployment, had turned into something far, far more grave before his eyes.
Kururugi Suzaku had known Lelouch Vi Britannia.
Once.
As the sounds of gunfire faded off into the distance of the abandoned subway tunnel, and the bodies of Britannian soldiers fell limply to the ground under the cold gaze of those purple eyes, he realized that this person whom he had once and would still called friend was far from the same.
Then the truck that lay crippled behind the school uniform clad Lelouch lurched, and before he knew what was happening they were running, the three of them - himself, Lelouch, and the green-haired girl who'd supposedly been a 'chemical weapon' - the ceiling of the tunnel collapsing in the wake of the truck's detonation from, most likely, a self-destruct charge.
And, to sunlight filtering through curtains, soft linens and the smell of freshly brewed tea, and gentle sounds of harp strings being plucked did Kururugi Suzaku awake with a startled gasp.
***
"Yes, it was a mostly ... impulsive decision," Lelouch said. "I'm sorry if it inconveniances you. If you wish, we will depart within the hour."
"You're getting ahead of yourself, I think," she replied, sitting back against the heavy mahogany desk. "After all, you were hardly identified ... you've gone to enough lengths to avoid that, don't think I don't remember."
"Is that simply your opinion, then?"
"It's the opinion that matters to you, right now," he was informed. "I dare say that this _is_ my area of influence, Lelouch. Humble as it may be. My lord."
"Tsk," the young man shook his head. "What would your family say?"
"They would say I do my duty as a retainer of the rightful scion to the Ashford family, Lulu. You know that much," Milly Ashford, Ashford Academy Student Council President, official heir of said family, replied.
"Mm. I suppose ..."
A knocking on the office door interrupted whatever he was about to say.
"Yes? What is it?"
The door opened, allowing a dark-haired young man in the same school uniform as Lelouch was wearing inside.
"Though you might know, your guest's awake, boss."
Lelouch nodded, thoughtfully, then folded his hands behind his back and cast one last glance outside the window that made up most of the wall opposite the door.
The campus of Ashford Academy stretched out below, peaceful and aesthetically pleasing to the eye, with students and teachers going on about their duties seemingly oblivious to the world outside its walls.
"Thankyou, Rivalz," he said a moment later. "We'll pick this up another time, then? I'm sorry for the interruption, but ..."
"Oh, go on now, we know how you get," the blond girl laughed faintly. "Do remember you still need to attend classes, no matter what extracurriculars you take, Mr. Vice-President."
"I'll keep that in mind," Lelouch responded as he strode out, purposefully.
"Maaaan ... he's been that spaced-out since he came back dragging the Eleven along," Rivalz commented as Lelouch exited. "It's annoying."
"Well, he has his reasons, you know," said Milly. "But right now, that's nothing to do with us."
"True ... say, now that you mention it ..." the boy turned to her, face hopeful.
"Dream," a hand whapped his across the head ",on. What I mean was getting the rest of the Council together and discussing the quarter's budget."
"B ... but that's _boring_!"
"It still has to be done, nya."
"Yes, madame-President, whatever you say, madame-President, would you like coffee with that, madame-President?"
"Yes please, Rivalz," she beamed at him.
"... sarcasm is totally lost on you, isn't it?"
"Nya?"
***
"Where _is_ this?" Suzaku's mind was in turmoil as he sat up, and promptly winced at the stab of pain coming from his midsection.
A glimpse downwards confirmed that it was wrapped in bandages, but that wasn't an immediate concern. Ot was simply one less immediate than the rest.
"Ashford Academy, Suzaku-sama."
The words finally drew his attention to the other occupant of the room - one who seemed entirely out of place in the utterly Britannian decor of it.
She was a creature of almost elfin beauty and porcelain-like skin, clad in what looked like a classically Japanese kimono of fine crimson and cream silks, fingers caressing the strings of a small harp that rested in her lap. She seemed no older than he himself was, at first glance, but when he consciously tried to appraise that the estimate appeared to slip in his mind, and he realized she could have just as well been a year or two younger as well as perhaps as much as up to a decade older.
"How did I ... no, they'll be looking for me," he said, more to himself really. "How did you know my name?"
He made to get out of bed, before the woman motioned for him to halt.
"Please, Suzaku-sama, do not risk upsetting your injury. You are protected, here. Lelouch-sama will explain shortly."
"Lelouch?" Suzaku's eyes went wide. "Then I wasn't ... that wasn't a ..."
"Dream?"
The voice was unexpected, coming from beside the bed but on the other side, and Suzaku's head whipped about in surprise.
Green hair, amber eyes, and still clad in the clothes he'd first seen her in ...
"No, Kururugi Suzaku. It is no dream ..." the girl trailed off. "Though you may wish it were, after a time."
"Quite," said the both familiar and drastically unfamiliar voice of Lelouch, as its owner entered.
"Lelouch!"
"It is good to see you again, Suzaku ... though, for a reunion, these circumstances are not quite what I would have hoped for."
And that, the bedridden teen remarked to himself as memories of the last day flashed to life in his mind, was the understatement of the damn decade.
***
+Shinjuku-ghetto, twelve hours ago+
He came to in a flash of light and pain, crying out at the world, and for a moment wondered whether this was what it was like - being born - before he regained his senses and stumbled away from the green-haired girl's hand.
The touch lingered on his cheek, setting synapses ablaze, the pain ramping his remaining sense up into the ridiculous momentarily.
Below their perch, the cavity in the side of what had once been a skyscraper, he saw the frantic scramble.
Man, woman, child. A family, stumbling through the rubble, their faces masks of desperation, bleeding from small nicks and injuries but ignoring that in the simple favor of just wanting to get _away_.
And when two Britannian soldiers stepped out from the building the family had come from, rifles to shoulders and aimed at the unarmed refugees, Suzaku felt something within him snap, and something else _react_.
The fear. The panic. The desperation.
All those things, he suddenly knew the escaping Japanese were feeling.
All those things, he somehow gathered.
All those things, he _pushed_ at the soldiers with all he could.
One of the two shuddered, and a moment later Suzaku could see his hands dropping the weapon, and scrabbling at the helmet even as legs gave way, sending him to his knees and then collapsing to the ground.
The other gave a shriek, so high as to be earsplitting from even that distance, as he fell to the ground as well, desperately scrambling backwards with head whipping around from left to right ...
Suzaku looked, and somehow he _knew_ that it was his doing.
"Geass," the girl said, from beside him. "This power is yours. The contract you made with me. How will you use it, I wonder."
***
"Well, I suppose one must make do, regardless," Lelouch glared at his handheld. Not that he'd been told something he hadn't suspected already, but experiencing it first-hand was another matter entirely.
He turned back to face his companions.
"So, have you decided? Act, or do not. Save or damn them, or be content with watching from the sidelines. It's all the same, really, in the end. Death is death."
Suzaku's eyes were haunted, and for a moment there was a tinge of regret to his own resolve, but it was quickly squashed.
"After all, wasn't that what you said? Your dream of peace?"
The Japanese teen's head shot upwards, eyes locking on Lelouch.
'There. Now ...'
"One way or the other, there will be peace, after all. You don't have to do anything."
The onetime prince grinned mirthlessly.
"Just sit and wait, and let my dear brother's soldiers slaughter your countrymen in Shinjuku to the one, and that's peace too, right?"
"But ... I'm just ... I know fighting, but I don't know, wouldn't know, where to start."
"Their blood on your hands, then."
"No!"
"Then do something about it! She gave it to _you_, after all. The power of despair. The power of hope. _Be_ their hope."
Suzaku stood, hands clenched at his side, for an ever-lasting minute before whirling around towards the devastated room's exit to the tune of gunfire and the backdrop of rising smoke.
"Suzaku!"
And as he reached the door, Lelouch's voice froze him.
Green eyes met purple.
"Ask me. I don't care much for all this, but we were, or maybe we are, friends. So ask me."
Understanding dawned.
"Will you help me?"
"Of course."
***
The Frame shuddered as stress tore at it, but better stress than shells and bullets, she supposed.
Not that it looked like she'd be able to cop out on the lattermost two for much longer. It was a simple enough equation, really. One that didn't requite anything like a combat calculator to be completed.
She was good at what she did, and confident enough to know it, but an old and damaged Glasgow just wasn't going to cut it against these odds.
Hell, it was a testament to her skills that she was still _in_ the fight and not captured or dying in a burning wreck.
A Slash Harken rocket anchor tore up the ground her Knightmare had been occupying a moment ago, and its source - a Britannian Sutherland - opened up on her temporarily airborne Frame with its Rifle, scoring a glancing hit before the red-painted rebel machine disappeared into the gap between two buildings.
The Sutherland made to follow, the wheels of its Landspinner spurs kicking up debris as it shot towards the alley, weapon at the ready ...
... before the Glasgow came down from above, close to seven tons worth of metalloy - more, if its arm hadn't been blown off early in the engagement - using the Britannian Knightmare to break its fall.
And indeed, it left the Sutherland quite broken in its stead.
Karen Stadtfeld, nee, Karen Kouzuki or the resistance, breathed a sigh of relief at the maneuver's success before her breath hitched at the sight of the _other_ Sutherland drawing a bead on her from too short a distance to dodge and too long a distance to counter without a functional ranged weapon system ... one she did not have, it having been lost with the missing arm of her Knightmare.
She still made the effort, throwing the Glasgow into a mad dash for cover.
Gunfire sounded.
At first, she didn't know what was happening, before realizing that it was the Sutherland that was taking fire, jerking like a puppet with its strings cut for a moment before the cockpit separated and shot into the sky on rocket-exhaust plumes from the ejection system.
Instinctively, her eyes tracked the path of fire, and widened as they set on another Sutherland.
"What the ...?"
"Is your Frame operational?" Her radio squawked to life, in concert with the Sutherland's head unit turning to face her.
"Y ... yes! Who are you? Are you with the resistance? How did you get your hands on a Sutherland?!"
"A friend."
"Right, and I'll believe that because?"
Words of scorn died on her lips before they could be completed as an odd feeling of confidence surged through her body ...
"It doesn't matter if you believe it or not, Glasgow-girl," another unfamiliar voice sounded on the frequency. "The question you should be asking yourself is 'Do I want to win?' and 'If it's help, can I afford to turn it down?'."
"Win?"
***
+Ashford Academy, present+
"We did manage to force a standstill, if you'd care to remember, for long enough to allow the people a chance to leave safely. Thank you, Haydee," Lelouch said, sitting down by the window and taking the offered cup of tea before facing the prone Suzaku again. "Clovis will likely try and twist it to his own ends, and he'll not likely risk simply firebombing the ghetto ... so I guess congratulations are in order, Suzaku. You managed to stop the killing, for a little while."
"We ..." the Japanese teen stated. "We managed, Lelouch. I couldn't have, by myself. I'm no strategist. I just ... it's really ironic. I can fight, but ..."
"Yes, well, it's been said that fighting for peace is sort of like fucking for virginity, if you forgive my crassness," was the reply. "Futile, disappointing, and ultimately makes you look very very silly."
Suzaku noted he was the only person in the room who actually blushed at that.
"So, what happens now?" He finally managed, accepting his own cup of the brew from the kimono-clad beauty with a thankful nod. "I guess they're looking for me?"
"Mm. Getting injured in the middle of that wasn't particularly fortunate, but no," Lelouch's lip quirked in a faintly mocking manner. "Private Kururugi Suzaku was recovered from the rubble of the tunnel by a Knightmare pilot sent to investigate the area, and is now in recovery, pending examination - though I'm given to understand that he stands to get a minor commendation for managing to void the dangerous chemical substances stolen by the terrorists despite the booby-trapped vehicle they were being transported in exploding."
There was silence.
"Say what?"
"Or so the reports say. Really, my friend, did you expect that train had stopped in the middle of a combat zone on its own, or that it just so happened to be one carrying Sutherlands into the Settlement?"
"You had this _ready_ in _advance_? Lelouch ... are you ... were you working with the terrorists?"
"Ah. The proper terminology is 'rebels' I believe, and yes. I mean, you did as well, did you not? But I assume you mean, before that? Then, no, not in so many words. In fact, what I had in motion can be said to no longer be wholly ... relevant, given recent developments."
"Meaning?"
"I merely had the right tools in place, realized this, and made use of them accordingly."
Suzaku pondered this for a moment. "A Knight, you said?"
"Guilt. Anger. Helplessness. Self-loathing. Loyalty, and yes, even friendship - all can be used as tools, Suzaku. And make for efficient tools they do, yes, my friend?"
The words, though spoken in a perfectly normal tone of voice, chilled him to the bone.
"As to your earlier question, I suppose that now you rest. Heal. And wonder. You've dealt with two devils to put you where you are now, after all. If that doesn't bear thinking on, nothing does."
Lelouch stood, setting aside the empty cup, and turned to leave. The kimono-clad woman, Haydee he'd called her, rose to follow, and as they reached the door of the room Suzaku finally found his voice again.
"Lelouch ..."
"Yes?" The Britannian teen didn't as much as turn around.
"Thank you."
"Really? You'll be retracting those words soon enough, I wager, Suzaku."
"Thank you all the same."
"Hmm. As you like, then."
The door opened, then closed, and left the Japanese teen in the room with only hitherto silent green-haired girl for company.
***
"You were being cruel, Lelouch-sama."
"Admonishments, Haydee?"
"No, Lelouch-sama. Merely an observation."
"Well then, observe away. Still, tell me, what do you think of this?"
"Suzaku-sama is very troubled, but ... begging your pardon, Lelouch-sama, I have not seen you this _alive_ in a long time."
"Alive? That would be an interestingly accurate way of putting it, wouldn't it? I suppose I do feel more alive, then. How does it suit me?"
"It suits you quite well, Lelouch-sama. I am happy to see you like this. A man cannot live on revenge alone."
"Can't he? Then what facet of my revenge would you be, my dear?"
"Your willing tool, Lelouch-sama."
"Oh? Then my precious, willing tool, walk with me."
"Always."
***
END suzaku of the rebellion
***

---

The speaking voice at the beginning here is Gankutsuou and not, as it was at the end of the prologue, Lelouch. I wanted to keep a bit in tune with the spirit of that show. Besides, it's fun to be an annoyingly vague bastard sometimes.
Tell me what you think.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[HoagieOfDoom]

It's fun. This Lelouch is so different, yet the same, as the canon one. He has a much more refined, logical air to him I suppose. I'm intrigued by your inclusion of Haydee; how does she figure here? Is she an alien like canon or is she of the same sort as CC?

---

Besides, it's fun to be an annoyingly vague bastard sometimes.

---

No problem. I happen like vagueness when I read; it gives my mind something to chew on.
Hmmm... Methinks I should read a summary of Gankutsuou; it's been some time since I saw it.*********
Touched By His Noodly Appendage
www.venganza.org

[Rieverre]

---

I'm intrigued by your inclusion of Haydee; how does she figure here? Is she an alien like canon or is she of the same sort as CC?

---

Neither. To her description - I only used the one from the anime because, let's be frank, she's hot. Then built upon that in my plotting and came up with ... well, you'll see. It'll be no big surprise for anyone who's seen the anime or read the book or cliff notes thereto. I'll generally be pulling things from no one source in regards to the numerous Count of Monte Cristo adaptations, in no small part because I think the ending of Gankutsuou could have been done better if it had been more like that of the book.

---

Hmmm... Methinks I should read a summary of Gankutsuou; it's been some time since I saw it.

---

Well, don't put too much stock in it. Like I said, this'll be fairly free-wheeling and freeform, playing fast and loose with plotlines as is my wont.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[HoagieOfDoom]

---

I only used the one from the anime because, let's be frank, she's hot.

---

True, too true.

---

Well, don't put too much stock in it. Like I said, this'll be fairly free-wheeling and freeform, playing fast and loose with plotlines as is my wont.

---

Excellent, that means more surprises down the road.
Edit:

---

I'll generally be pulling things from no one source in regards to the numerous Count of Monte Cristo adaptations, in no small part because I think the ending of Gankutsuou could have been done better if it had been more like that of the book.

---

When I said canon I actually meant Gankutsuou canon, not the original Count of Monte Cristo one. It's been so long since I read it that I had completely forgotten that Haydee was in it; I thought she was an original character in the anime.*********
Touched By His Noodly Appendage
www.venganza.org

[Rieverre]

Mostly setup for the next one. And Lelouch being a bastard. But that's pretty much a given already.
---
Madame, Monsieur, bonsoir ...
The plans of mice. The plans of men.
The carefully laid out strings of action and thought.
My friend, are you a walker of the tightropes, or the spider lurking in the eaves?
Your fate, thrown as dice, into the maelstrom of history in potentia, is of your own devising. And mine.
Your journey of malice. Your desire for retribution.
What is the path to your justice?
Together, we shall find out, as we walk it.
One step at a time.
---
0^2:To sit upon the frozen throne
a Code Geass/Gankutsuou fic
by Griever
---
two: Road to Damascus
"It looks as though it's effectively no-man's land now," commented Lelouch, his handheld out and browsing through random newsfeeds at twenty second intervals. Shinjuku featured prominently in those, for one reason or another, none of which were close enough to being accurate to satisfy his tastes.
Not, he remarked to himself, that he'd expected anything else.
Allowing himself a momentary lapse and a brief sigh, he flipped the handheld closed and pocketed it, before gathering up the materials he'd need for the day's classes. Tedious. Still, the tedium could be a welcome respite from more serious, more relevant things.
The morning was crisp and clear, pleasantly chill without the outright cold, just the way he liked them most.
"Yo, boss, I'm done," commented Rivalz, falling into step beside him.
"That was fast," he nodded approvingly. "Any trouble?"
"No, no trouble. Just like any other drop and drive, though how we're supposed to profit from this, I can't see," the other teen grumbled.
"Not everything gives immediate dividends," Lelouch corrected.
"I know, I know, it's just that ... well, you'd expect something this big to."
"Patience is a virtue, Rivalz."
"Oy, I never claimed to be virtuous! It's one of the reasons this works out so well, so don't go putting words in my mouth now."
"Mm. Point. Still sometimes, all you can do is wait. Wait and hope."
"I hate it when you get philosophical, boss."
***
"Private First Class, Kururugi Suzaku, reporting for duty, my lord," the teenager saluted, somewhat stiffly.
Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald gave a disdainful sniff and shake of the head. Elevens. What was the world coming to, he didn't know.
Well, neither did he particularly care, but the fiasco was given to him to handle, and he'd well and handle it, distasteful as it may be.
"Well, Private, it seems that the injuries weren't as bad as we'd been given to believe. Or else, why are you here instead of recovering?"
"My lord, regulations require the completion and delivery of after-action reports as soon as possible," Kururugi replied. "I chose to take that as a literal definition."
Annoying brat.
"Fine, fine, but make it quick," the Margrave said irritably. "I have more important things that require my concern than the sniveling excuses of a rookie Number. Start with recounting exactly what happened, and how exactly you managed this stroke of _luck_ that let you live through the collapse, hmm?"
Blood and martyrs, but if he was going to have to suffer through this trite dreck, he'd sure as hell make the little twit sweat for it as well.
Rank, after all, hath its privileges. Twisting the knife on an Eleven was just one of them.
***
"Yosh! Sync-relays working within tolerances," she commented, having the manipulator of the recently replaced limb flex. There were still some twitches, but those would work themselves out during operation, as the replacement part integrated fully with the machine.
Just another design idiosyncrasy of most mass produced Knightmares.
Tuning, of course, would further sharpen response time, but it was a tedious and precise operation that couldn't be undertaken in battlefield conditions. Sadly, those were the only conditions their sort of warfare allowed for.
And now even that had been jeopardized. Their usual series of hideaways and safehouses was spread through the Shinjuku-ghetto. The one rented warehouse in the docks district was their only fallback in this situation, as the ghetto was being watched more closely than a pornographic vid in military barracks.
Ironically, since the Britannian forces had been repelled it was _more_ dangerous to try and work through there for the rebels. And for the ordinary citizens as well, not that all that many remained in the wake of recent events, either because of the obvious, or because they'd decided it was too dangerous a place to stay and chanced it with the rest of the city - a wise decision, all things considered.
Which didn't mean the ghetto was empty. Some people refused to bow down, even to this pressure. Some simply _couldn't_. The young, the elderly, those with sentimental attachment to what had once been a thriving part of Tokyo but was no naught but memory and ruin.
Karen swept a hand across her face, wiping beads of sweat off with the back of her glove. The kerchief she'd worn as a bandanna was soaked through, and had been for a while now, due to heat and the effort she'd been putting into making sure her Glasgow would be ready for the inevitable ...
"You know, you're not helping anyone by working yourself to death, admirable as the dedication is," she heard, and snapped a hand out to the side, catching a can of ice-tea after sparing a glance at the incoming projectile.
"So what, I'm just supposed to sit back and wait?" She popped the can open, chugging back on the cold beverage immediately, relieving her parched throat. "Ougi, you know this isn't going to blow over, right? We're finally getting serious here!"
"Maybe too serious," the man commented. He was tall and broad-shouldered in anyone's opinion, not just for a Japanese either, and had the sort of gentle temperament that one associated with someone who had to take care how he moved because of his height. "We're in over our heads here, you know?"
"No, I don't know! We ... Ougi, we beet the Britannian bastards _back_ there," she exclaimed.
"They'll have more," the man shook his head, sitting back against the Knightmare's leg. "We can't fight this sort of fight, Karen. We're no good in a fixed battle where they've got these sort of ridiculous odds against us."
"So we're just going to run, then?! Leave the people who're still here to their deaths?"
"Do we have any _choice_ in the matter, Karen?"
***
It started in his eyes. A burning, stinging sensation that reached out from behind the eyelids, stabbing back through the eyeballs and into his skull like an insanely sharp needle.
Geass flared.
"What are you doing here?" He hissed, panicked eyes flicking to one side, then another, up and down the street.
Somewhere beyond a corner, two approaching MPs were suddenly beset by a feeling of anxiety strong enough to have both dash to the toilets.
"Just come to see you," the reply was bland. "You left before I could say anything, after all. You find my company that repulsive?"
"Don't you have any self-preservation instinct?!"
"What? This is just a small, out of the way barracks. They're not told anything about this sort of thing," she cocked her head to the side, then suddenly stepped forward, pressing against him and turning to whisper. "You can pretend I'm your lover or something."
Suzaku stepped back out of her reach, keeping distance by virtue of putting his hands on her shoulders and holding firm.
"It's still too dangerous! You should have stayed ..."
"Stayed _where_, Kururugi Suzaku? In that _thing's_ home?"
"What?"
"Your so called 'friend'," the girl shuddered in his grip.
"Lelouch, you mean? What ... I thought you said he already had a contract. Doesn't that make him ..."
"That thing is nothing like me!"
The denial was so vehement that it genuinely took him aback for a moment.
"Well, then ... it would help if you could _explain_ it to me," Suzaku ventured. "Or am I now a _thing_ too?"
"No! That's ... that isn't it," for the first time since that morning, the green-haired girl was flustered. "The sleeper is like malice to our ambition. Like hatred to our hope. He is ... he is _anathema_ to what we would have, pulling all around him into oblivion."
"Meaning? What does this 'sleeper' have to do with Lelouch?"
"In the simplest terms ... when we make a contract, a power is granted. There is some connection, but not much of one," she replied. "_It_ contracts to one only, and takes them as host. Your friend, Lelouch? It festers within him like a cancer, growing in his malice and rage until there is nothing but an empty shell of a man remaining. Not living, not dead, just there. Or so we remember."
"... anger ... he's always had so much of that," Suzaku hung his head. "But he's still my friend, and ... and ..."
"And?"
"I'm no better than that either," he sighed. "For a long time, I've believed that you should ... you should work within the rules. That going beyond them would be wrong, that it would only lead to more death and pain. But then, just recently, what did I do?"
Blindly, he lashed out, his fist smacking against the concrete wall lining the sidewalk that separated street from the barracks area.
"I ran roughshod over them, just because it was convenient! I didn't even think about it at the time, only ..."
"People were dying," the girl said, her tone still dry, but somehow there was a glimmer of compassion in her eyes that hadn't been present before. "You made a choice. And it was not the first time that you did so, either, was it?"
Suzaku's breath caught in his throat.
She didn't ... she _couldn't_ know about that.
"We are bound by contract, Kururugi," the girl said. "I know. Your most precious person then, you sacrificed in an attempt to stop it. Stop the suffering. Stop the fighting. I do not _judge_, Kururugi Suzaku, but ... to do so required a tremendous fortitude. To still retain _yourself_ afterwards, more-so. Perhaps my choice of you to hold this burden was not faulty."
"How can you say that?! Isn't it ... isn't going against everything like that, in the end ... isn't it meaningless?!"
"What is 'meaning'? What are 'rules', but those things that a king makes or breaks on a whim?" She told him. "No action is without meaning, ultimately. And Geass ... perhaps it is the ultimate expression of meaning, more than anything else. Follow the rules you choose to follow. Break those which you do not. This is now your prerogative, as you walk the path of choice. Now, ask yourself, what do you _want_?"
Suzaku breathed. Deep breaths, one after another, as he turned and leaned against the wall, looking to the sky.
"I want to save them."
"Save ... who?"
"As many as I can."
"Then _do so_."
Silence.
"And you might rein those emotions in before you depress someone into killing themselves."
His eyes blinked, then widened, and the Geass he'd unwittingly activated faded away.
***
"Lulu, honestly, you need to stop being so irresponsible," the girl sighed, though more to herself and out of habit than out of any actual effort to get through the named individual. "Here, just don't lose them."
"Thank you," he nodded, taking the offered printouts of the class notes.
"That's all you ever say," Shirley Fenette had been Lelouch's classmate since he'd started at Ashford, and while the auburn haired girl's interest was more than strictly friendly, she was more often than not exasperated with the lackluster image he presented. She knew he was smart, bordering on scarily so in fact, but he never really applied that other than to scam money he didn't need from people he really shouldn't be in gambling games.
She huffed, stalking out of the otherwise empty classroom, missing the faint smirk that momentarily graced Lelouch's face then.
He stashed the printouts in his attache case, then zipped it closed.
"Why _do_ you do that, anyway?"
Lelouch turned to give the newcomer a brief look, then shook his head.
"Because Lelouch Lamperouge is a louse, unreliable most of the time, but somewhat canny and prone to gambling here and there. Unremarkable in the greater scheme of things, and only here because of nepotism. Consistency is important after all, Madame President."
Milly Ashford sighed. "You're really going to hurt her one day, you know?"
"Really," he remarked dryly. "It takes quite a bit to break a person, and ignoring an adolescent crush is hardly going to be it. Unless she's quite a bit more pathetic than I can tell."
"So cruel, Lulu."
"Noted," they exited the classroom. The hallways of Ashford Academy weren't too busy, students having already taken their leave after the last bell, so they could walk and talk freely for the most part.
"You should at least take her out one of these days."
"Please. Now who's being cruel?"
"Moi? How ever did you come to that conclusion?"
"Merely a lucky hunch."
"Pfft. Still, why not give it a chance?"
"With _my_ life? Short sighted, that. Don't tell me you're suddenly believing in that true love myth?"
"It's the prerogative of an innocent young girl's heart!"
"Innocent. Right, my dear. Right," Lelouch snickered.
"Quit that! I'm serious, just try it, maybe take a break."
He started a reply before being interrupted by his handheld and excusing himself.
It wasn't a long conversation. In fact, it wasn't much of a conversation at all. More an exchange, really, and quite an obvious one at that.
"I'm busy in the foreseeable future," he said as they fell back into step, heading towards the Student Council building and, incidentally, his lodgings.
"Oh? Doing what? Playing your games?"
"Playing games," he mused. "How very appropriate. Yes, I'll be playing a game. A sort of mix, really. Chess, go, poker, blackjack and Russian roulette, all rolled into one."
At his more serious tone, Milly slowed a bit and gave him a searching look.
"What's it called?"
"War."
"Oh," she was silent for a bit, mulling over that one. "You're going to win?"
"Win?" Lelouch looked more amused than anything else. "My dear, there are no victors in war. You're thinking politics. In war, it's just casualties. But ..." here he paused, "... well, I have more to do than that, so I suppose that means I'll just need to not become one."
"And you say that like it's so easy."
"Easiest thing in the world, really," he nodded. "If you know the trick."
"Trick?"
"Like in all games ... count the cards, stack the deck, and cheat like a right bastard whenever you can."
To that, she had nothing to say, so the rest of the walk was spent in companionable, if somewhat heavy, silence.
***
There was a number of things that drove Clovis La Britannia up the wall, but none had quite the same poignancy as this most recent ...
... well, let's just say it, failure. Although he refused to think of it as anything other than a setback.
Not only was the research project lost in the middle of that unholy _mess_, those damn Elevens had dared thumb their noses at Britannia's might and come out momentarily on top.
It was enough to drive a man to drink, really.
But more than anything else, it was something that needed to be _fixed_ and quickly. Perceived authority was, after all, as important as factual one, if not moreso, and this was working against his.
He didn't even want to dare wonder how losing control, even momentarily, of an area right off the largest city of Area 11 reflected on him in the eyes of his siblings. Worse yet, in the eyes of his father.
If there ever was a person to despise weakness in any and all forms, it was the Emperor of Britannia.
So Clovis wondered, and planned, and plotted.
This was no longer a question of fact and right. It was a matter of _pride_.
"We move at dawn," he said, composed as could be, but in a voice carrying enough ire for it to be nearly a physical thing. "And level it to the _ground_."
***
END road to damascus
***
---

-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[HoagieOfDoom]

Interesting. So Suzaku is morphing into a sort-of Lelouch, straying from the series. And Lelouch himself... my, what a bastard. I like it.*********
Touched By His Noodly Appendage
www.venganza.org

[Rieverre]

---

Brought to you by the Suzaku Theme Song - 'Breaking the habit' by Linkin Park, and Iron Maiden's 'Rainmaker' for the chapter theme.
---
Madame, Monsieur, bonsoir ...
A storm.
Rainfall, in its fullness, coming down onto the world to wash away its sins.
Upon barren ground, the drops would fall.
My friend, tread carefully as you step in-between them.
Look carefully, as you measure and weigh them.
Will it gift the land with life again? This barren wasteland of human hearts?
Or will it come down without mercy, to flood away that which still lingers, sweeping all with it regardless of nature, offering only a wake of desolation, and a garden fashioned from the bodies of the broken?
And is he who orchestrates it God?
Or Devil?
Or perhaps both?
Show us, my friend. Show them your most magnificent disaster.
Visit upon them your remorseless symphony.
---
0^2:To sit upon the frozen throne
a Code Geass/Gankutsuou fic
by Griever
---
three: Rainmaker
"Ah, you're here," he nodded, as if to himself. "Please, sit. We were afraid we would start without you, for a minute there, Suzaku."
The image was almost ridiculous, when contrasted with his own state of mind there and then, which was one of organized chaos.
"My, my ... I know it's only been a year, but come on, boss," the teenager who'd entered immediately behind him shook his head with a grin. "I haven't been late yet, have I?"
"Of course. My apologies, Rivalz," Lelouch replied, gesturing to one of the numerous, empty high-backed chairs at the long dining table. "Please, both of you, sit. Or should I say, please, the three of you, sit?"
The dining room they'd been directed to was long, with windows running floor-to-ceiling along one whole wall, the view a panorama of the nighttime skyline.
Candelabra stood, candles in them flickering, upon the table shrouded in pure white and set with china, platters of various dishes along its length.
There was no other light.
The door closed, as the green-haired girl - C.C., or so she'd told him to call her - entered as well.
"Hey, come on you two," Rivalz commented, taking his seat and immediately claiming some of the food for his own plate. "It's good! Really, really good!"
Lelouch gestured to the empty seats again, seemingly unperturbed by their reluctance, from where he himself sat - as Suzaku had half-expected, at the head of the table. Beside him, on his right, clad in a kimono similar in cut to the one he'd seen her wearing before, sat Haydee, and in the next seat on that side a blond girl he'd not met before. Then Rivalz.
"Lelouch, there's something I need to talk to you about," Suzaku began with some urgency entering his voice.
"First, sit," the purple-eyed teenager insisted again. "It is but the polite thing to do, yes? Ah, but I fear I have been remiss as well ..."
Suzaku, who'd stepped forward, halted then. C.C. had yet to move.
"Rivalz you know, of course, but have not been properly introduced to. My ... steward, I suppose, Rivalz Cardemonde. My old friend, Kururugi Suzaku, and ... companion. And the lovely lady next to him is one thanks to whom we may enjoy such bountiful repast. Miss Milly Ashford."
For a moment, Lelouch paused, then pushing his chair back and standing, to move behind the person remaining and laying a hand on her shoulder.
"And this is Haydee, whom you've also met before and I have been remiss in introducing. My beautiful lady."
The girl raised a hand, laying it atop Lelouch's own.
"Lelouch-sama, you are too kind."
Purple eyes met green, and the Japanese teen straightened before continuing, stepping up to the table and bowing.
"I have been remiss. I apologize. My name is Kururugi Suzaku, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he spared a glance to one side. "And my companion, C.C."
"Well, well," the blond, Milly, said teasingly. "Lulu told me he'd invited company, but he didn't say you'd be so cute, mister Kururugi Su-za-ku."
"Yes, somehow," Lelouch stepped back to stand beside his own empty seat. "The detail simply escaped me, for some reason," he remarked dryly.
"Ah, but we all know how absent-minded you are, don't we, so I suppose it's to be expected," the girl stated, not even bothering to pretend she was being serious.
"So it is," was the reply, before purple eyes went back to Suzaku. "Then, for a third time, I invite you, Kururugi Suzaku. C.C. Please, sit."
Suzaku closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded, opening them and turning to stretch out a hand which the green-haired girl promptly ignored as she walked past, pulled back a chair opposite the blond, and sat. He shook the disregard off, stepping past and taking the seat to Lelouch's immediate left.
Whereupon Lelouch sat back down again himself.
"After all," he spoke after a moment. "As they say, eat. Drink. Make merry. For tomorrow ... well, you know."
Suzaku's fork clattered to the plate, before the young soldier could stop himself from startling.
"You know already, then?"
"Know?"
"The Armed Forces are pulling back what reserves they have available and mobilizing. I'm only here because my commanding officer has me written off as injured."
"Which you are, so everything has turned out for the best, I would imagine. Lelouch Lamperouge, on the other hand, intends to get his fill and more of wine, woman and song."
"He's a bit notorious for it, really," said Milly Ashford. "Not enough for it to be of bad taste, no, but it's expected that he should come down with quite a vicious hangover, come morning."
"So sad," nodded Lelouch, after taking a sip from his glass ... of water. "So, then, I expect we will both be spending tonight and tomorrow nowhere in the vicinity of the Shinjuku-ghetto, yes, Suzaku?"
***
The rumble was one that was felt more than it was heard. It vibrated, up through the soles of their feet, along their spines, and reverberated inside their chests in a counterpoint to their heartbeats.
Normally, it would have been disconcerting.
They were used to it, though. It was a long-standing friend and familiar, and a sign that everything was right with their hermetic little world.
The Sheffield rumbled steadily below, powerful treads moving its massive bulk into position, it's battlewagon chassis steady even against the stress of its own weight and load traversing rough terrain.
Even the four Sutherlands of its escort tended to keep well away, as it tended to mess up their gyroscopes.
In a way, it was an antique. More modern, lighter, faster equivalents existed. Knightmare Frame modifications that, while not allowing for such and such range of engagement, still sported a considerable amount of firepower and infinitely more mobility were being developed.
But those were a priority in other Areas. Ones with more intense 'climates'.
This ... was more about show of force than it was about efficiency and capability.
Still, for all its antiquated idiosyncrasies and fallacies, it was a most intimidating vehicle.
All the more so for the portents it brought, in the form of a trio of massive metalloy constructs that lay at rest, along the steel beast's back.
***
"Ougi, we've got movement!"
The night had not been a calm one for their nerves. Neither had the previous one, for that matter, but then it had been mostly diluted by a sense of euphoria.
But, as they say, the new had worn off and considerations of just what the retaliation for this, admittedly unplanned, occupation would be had started flitting in.
It was not a good night to be commander, nominal as he was. The onetime teacher could attest to that.
"Where?"
The Sutherland's smooth controls, unlike the choppy ones of the Glasgows he'd had what little Frame piloting training he'd had on, were of little comfort at the moment.
"Everywhere! They're pushing forward with their entire line, North, South, East _and_ West sectors!" Tamaki was a hothead, yes, but he wasn't prone to fits of sourceless panic. "Damnit, we've lost connection with the Eastern ..."
"Tamaki? Tamaki!"
***
"Ta..." the band was suddenly filled with static, its chaotic pitch making the man wince and tear the headpiece of the commo unit away in haste.
Tamaki Shinichiro swore, keeping the offending bit of gear at a distance and spending a moment to try and adjust the relay itself, to little effect.
They had two Sutherlands per section, and Ougi had kept two, as well as Kouzuki's Glasgow, in reserve ... but that was nothing when compared to what was coming down on them.
Fortunately, close range commo still worked ... but news there was just as disheartening.
"Damnit, Tanaka! Get your ass out of there! Higa! Put down that suppression fire, now!" He barked out, juggling that and trying out other frequency skipping algorithms on the fly.
An explosive charge they'd pre-planted last night went off, burying an approach avenue to the rubble and building remains they'd laughingly dubbed their redoubt, as well as a squad of Britannian infantry under a I-beams and cracked concrete.
The answering hail of fire had them going for cover, even as their own fortified Sutherlands replied in kind. Still, there was only so much penetration and coverage you could get out of a 57mm autocannon - the Knightmares' rifles were good pieces of weaponry, but by no means were they perfect for the situation ... as demonstrated when one of the tanks that had come in the wake of the initial push started its own shower of shells.
Fortunately it was 'only' airbursting fragmentation rounds, since direct fire was made impossible by the awkward angles and cover chosen by the defenders of this urban environment.
It still took its toll, as one 'lucky' shot showered an RPG team with hot shrapnel that wasn't the least bit hindered by the light ballistic armor they wore. Hell, even _that_ sort of gear was a luxury for the Resistance, and in the field like this it didn't mean squat.
In an eye-blink, there was nothing there but twisted metal and bloody haze, and Tamaki spared a momentary wince to the outcome before his attention snapped back to the commo.
"...amaki! Wha...appening, copy!" That was something, at least. Not much, but he could work with it - an improvement over nothing at all, at any rate.
"We're getting hit hard! Repeat! Getting hit hard! Two Knightmare Fire Teams, one squad of MBTs, infantry, the works! Please reinforce! Repeat! Please reinforce! Or at least send some more fucking ammo!"
Which was another issue, as he heard, even over the din and confusion, one of their Sutherlands' rifles stutter into silence and not pick up the beat again. The Britannians _had_ logistics. The Resistance ... not so much.
"... read you! Kouzuki's gon... reinforce the Eastern breach, but ... looks bad on all accounts, we need ..."
Then the world shook and shuddered, exploding in pulverized concrete and cordite as a Britannian Sutherland came down, almost right on top of the command post ... and Tamaki was looking into the largest gun-barrel he'd seen in his life.
Words failed him.
***
A Sutherland model Knightmare Frame is approximately 4,4 meters tall.
It weighs in at almost seven and a half tons.
It can field a variety of weapons, with built-in functionality including the Slash Harken rocket anchor, as well as a pair of folding forearm-mounted tonfas. In addition, it can and does carry fragmentation and submunition grenades, as well as a handheld main weapon ranging from the standard 57mm autocannon - the equivalent of a Knightmare Frame sized assault rifle - to its 100mm Anti-Materiel cousin.
Specialized versions include anything from models carrying dedicated close combat armament for anti-Frame engagements, to those configured solely as weapons platforms and fielding, say, AAA equipment.
Its armor is rated to withstand, at worst-case, a direct hit from 30mm armor piercing ammunition. The pilot compartment and breastplate are rated as resistant to 20mm rounds fired at up to 6000rpm. In terms of battlefield survivability, it beats any hitherto mass manufactured Knightmare Frame.
Its high mobility makes it ideal for use in urban environments.
Still, war is not fought and won by machines alone.
And when you have two of roughly similar performance, what decides is that seemingly insignificant little thing called the 'human' factor.
In the end, success or failure lie in the hands of the pilot.
And Kouzuki Karen was a truly exceptional Knightmare pilot.
Her Glasgow was light, stripped of as much unnecessary equipment as she could do without. It's drive train had been upgraded to rate at nearly Sutherland-level outputs, with as much as several hundred kilo less weight slowing the Frame down.
She knew it, inside and out, and knew just how far over the edge she could push performance ... using that knowledge relentlessly, as she put the red-hued machine on top of an enemy Frame, seven tons of additional weight nearly doubling its usual combat load for a few moments.
That is, until she used it as a springboard, pushing off it and into the air, twisting her Knightmare until the Sutherland was back in her sights.
On its knees, struggling to get up ...
The first Slash Harken missed, going just above one of its shoulders and digging into the ground. The second did not, and the rocket anchor's head barely slowed as it plowed, like a chisel through sandstone, through the Britannian Frame's shoulder joint before joining its sibling in catching purchase in the ground beyond.
Cables tensed, motors whined, and all the Glasgow's upgraded drive train's power worked at the high powered winches that served as the Slash Harkens' anchor points, changing her momentum rapidly enough that, for a second, it seemed as if her Frame was frozen in mid-air.
The Britannian Sutherland was getting back to its feet when Karen's Glasgow slammed back into it, legs first, crumpling armor like tissue-paper under the weight and momentum.
Landspinners struck sparks as they dug against weakened metalloy, tearing it not unlike spurs would unprotected flesh, as the Glasgow snatched the still spinning severed robotic arm out of the air.
The downed Sutherland's partner, skidding around the corner of a ruined skyscraper just meters away in response to the inevitable distress-call from her prey, was met with a robotic arm used like one would use a bludgeon.
Striking once.
Striking twice.
Striking again and again until there was no motion from the attacked.
The Glasgow's manipulator released the first Sutherland's severed, and now much maligned and twisted, arm, letting it fall to the ground.
"Ougi! I'm done here," Karen said, breathing heavily as her adrenaline rush subsided somewhat. "Don't know if I can keep this up ... or if the Glasgow won't break next time I try to pull something like this, so please tell me there's some good news."
***
Tanaka blinked.
'That's ... not one of ours,' he realized once he was done gaping at the source of the rocket anchor that had sliced through the weapon and arm of the Sutherland that had been about to blow his position to kingdom come.
The rocket-assist of the Sutherland's ejection system flared, launching the cockpit to safety even as the body was perforated and jerked around by the repeated impact of 57mm rounds.
Its attacker - another Sutherland Knightmare Frame, came down on top of the ruined war machine, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris with the arrested impact.
"Retreat."
The word came through his commo, in a familiar voice, and his panicked thoughts calmed.
Almost unnaturally so.
"Draw them in and stretch them out. Let the Knightmares come after you and leave their support struggling, then chip away at them from fixed positions and retreat again ..."
He barely noticed that the interference was almost entirely gone.
***
"... staggering it to inflict as much damage as you can. When you can't retreat anymore, consolidate your forces and break through the opening that will present itself," the voice continued, and Ougi stared at the commo station in mute disbelief.
"We can't do that! They'll just close in and crush us!" He heard the reply, identifying it as Karen.
"The opening _will_ be there," the voice retorted. "Tell me, Glasgow-no-onna, do you want to win?"
"You!"
"My associate is reinforcing you in the North. I will give you your chance, but it is up to you to take it. When you do, use only what Knightmares you have left, and spare the rest of your forces to escort what noncombatants remain in your camp out of the battle zone."
'Well,' Ougi thought, 'it's not like we'll have any other chance at getting out of this alive.'
"Alright, listen up!" The Resistance leader started. "We'll try it that way! Karen, keep them busy while the others fall back, then follow. Tanaka, Hiro, Kazuki, you as well. Do you read?"
***
Warrant Officer Timothy Hawke yawned, sitting back against the carapace of the Sheffield, most of his attention wandering. That bit which wasn't was busy with the fireworks.
Though that was being generous, truth be told.
The sound barely reached, and there was hardly more than dust-clouds to be seen from this distance. That it could be seen at all was solely because of positioning.
In his personal opinion, they should have just started off with this, unnecessary expenditure of munitions be damned.
Unfortunately, no-one had asked him, as this was less an actual military operation than it was a political demonstration.
Well, that was alright with him as well. In the end, one way or the other, it didn't matter much. He'd do his job. It was what he was getting paid for, after all, and this far out he was safe as a child in its mothers arms.
His musings were interrupted by the sounds of an approaching Knightmare, though it didn't warrant much attention as apparently their escort, now down to a mere two Frames, let it approach.
The cockpit hatch opened, and the pilot dismounted, trotting over towards the Sheffield.
"Dispatch from command," the man said, simply. A data-key was handed off to Hawke's own commanding officer, and Timothy stretched before getting back to his feet.
It looked like it was time to earn his keep.
The departing Sutherland didn't rate much of a second glance, as the Warrant Officer was by then busy making sure the munitions and loaders were clear and ready to use.
***
Suzaku sweated.
He panted.
Fighting itself, he could handle. Fighting _and_ keeping up the effects of the Geass, that was another thing altogether.
Somehow, he was managing. It was the only thing keeping this particular staggered retreat from collapsing into a panicking rout.
And by no means was it a bloodless retreat, on either side.
His own Sutherland bore testimony to the fierceness of the fighting. A Slash Harken was missing from its mounting, the left torso armor was almost completely gone, the arm on that side was missing a hand, and there were problems with fine control of the Landspinners that significantly reduced his mobility ...
... and, all things considered, that was still getting off lightly.
A burst to make sure the enemy stays under cover, then another, just to buy enough time for the Resistance fighters to set up in another impromptu trench and free him to his own retreat ... again and again and again.
Shrapnel and rubble bouncing from armor and biting into flesh.
War was madness.
A madness he'd hoped to have left behind him, years ago, but one that kept haunting him.
And now he was one of those paying it tribute.
A spread of rounds tore through the wall he was taking cover behind, sparking from his armor through luck and inopportune angle of impact, and he had his Sutherland jerk back before a follow-up could correct that, raising his own weapon and laying down blind saturation fire until the weapon ran dry and ...
... there was silence.
It failed to penetrate, as his hands worked the controls on their own and had the Knightmare replace the empty with his last full magazine.
The tactical plot said this was they couldn't retreat further, for the simple reason that there was nowhere to retreat to ...
... six Sutherlands, including his own, and one battered Glasgow.
Surrounded.
***
In the distance, it began.
He could feel it in the air.
And it made him smile.
"Rei," he keyed the commo, riding a secure transmission piggyback on Britannian traffic.
Code was a reasonable precaution - no matter how secure, you never knew if someone you didn't want to wasn't listening.
"They stopped," came the reply. "I don't like this, Le ... Zero. It's like they're waiting for something, and it's not going to be anything good. The Resistance is getting uneasy."
"I need you to calm them."
"But ..."
"Calm. Them. And tell them to get ready. I'll meet up with you on the way out. Breaking communications."
"Zero? Zero!"
He closed the channel, and slotted a disk into the Sutherland's computer. The contents self-activated, wiping any traces of his presence from the machine, before he retrieved the disk and dismounted the Knightmare.
"Come, brother. Stay true to form."
***
"Your Highness, we have them."
An expression of triumphant glee crossed the balding general's face as he said this.
"Good, General. Very good. Contact the artillery unit, and have them stand ready."
The blue icons of Britannian forces surrounded an angry red hive that represented the Insurgents' position entirely. A textbook encirclement, and one into which they'd herded every bit of opposition in the area.
Perfect.
"We have confirmation, Your Highness. The instructions have been delivered. Would you care to give the authorization?"
Clovis La Britannia nodded, squaring his shoulders as the communications panel of his command chair lit up. This was a show of force, after all. No weakness was tolerated.
"Your orders, Highness?" The artillery commander saluted.
"Execute your instructions, commander. For the Glory of the Holy Britannian Empire, we will not let this affront against Our dignity stand!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
***
It was manmade thunder.
Splitting the air, deafening, and utterly lethal.
Three barrels spoke, in staggered synchrony, as the Sheffield was nearly rocked back on its anchoring by the recoil.
The rounds were 400mm, the effective range up to sixteen kilometers with a traditional projectile. Up to thirty with rocket assist.
Two more salvos followed ...
***
"Incoming!"
A voice pierced the deathly calm, raising heads all around as thunder rolled, followed by a high pitched whistle ...
"We played ... right into their hands," Ougi sat back in the cockpit of his Sutherland, blankly staring at the glaring WARNING icons popping up on his tactical plot.
Oddly, his hands stayed steady.
There was no panic.
Just calm.
"You sold us out," he spoke, addressing the man who'd dubbed himself Rei to them.
"Get ready." Was the only reply he got in return.
Then the explosions came, shaking the earth, making rubble rain down from skeletal remains of buildings, and kicking up great clouds of dust ...
... and Ougi, as well as most of the Resistance, felt their jaws drop.
***
Airbursting HEAT and fragmentation loads. Submunitions. SABOT darts.
Like a steel and fire rain, they fell, their 400mm carrier shells dropping off mid-arc, letting the lethal cargo loose.
Piercing Knightmare armor. Smashing apart Main Battle Tanks. Tearing infantry apart.
The Britannian troops had just discovered one of the oldest rules of engagement.
The only thing worse than enemy artillery is allied artillery.
Friendly fire isn't.
Bedlam.
Yes, that was an accurate description of the happenings.
***
"Y ... Your Highness! We've lost contact with Southern and Western Detachments!"
"What?!"
"It's the artillery, Your Highness! Either an error in the fire plan or ..."
"Your Highness! Report from the Sheffield! They claim to be locked out of the firing computer and that it's realigning to fire!"
"Where?" A frazzled Clovis asked, eyes wide at the sudden decimation of his forces.
"Here, Your Highness!"
***
"Stop it! Somehow! Any way you can, damn your soul!"
The inside of the Sheffield was alive with frenzied bodies and panicking minds.
"There's a Level 3 barrier on this, commander! That's Royal-level authorization! We'd need biometrics and direct input from someone in the Royal Family to cancel!"
"Then blow the whole thing! Do you _want_ history to remember you as the people who were responsible for the death of a Prince of Britannia?!"
The clunking of autoloaders could be heard in the control compartment.
"Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly!"
"Shit, it's loaded! One incendiary. One anti-armor submunitions. One ... oh, holy mother of God, it's an FAE!"
"Too late!"
The Sheffield was rocked back again, then ... nothing.
"Crap," Warrant Officer Hawke blanched, and scrambled back, before the commander grabbed him by his lapels.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"You don't understand, the FAE didn't launch!"
A breath of relief passed the commander's lips. If it was just the submunitions and the incendiary, then the Mobile Command Center could handle them. The FAE on the other hand, would have swept it clear from ...
"It didn't launch because it was _arming_ in there!"
"... crap," the commander managed, right before the world exploded.
The Sheffield Mobile Artillery Vehicle and its escorts proceeded to cease to exist in a rather spectacular manner.
***
Clovis La Britannia stared, uncomprehendingly, at the killing field that the surroundings of his Command Vehicle had become.
And even that had not escaped unscathed, as anti-armor munitions and incendiaries shattered and burned ...
...
"Your Highness! Your Highness, are you alright?!"
A shake.
A shudder.
The governor of Area 11 didn't feel his knees strike the floor as he fell to them, and laughed.
In desperation.
***
END rainmaker
***

---

Kinda iffy on this one. I'm thinking, not enough Evil Bastard. Will have to recitify that next time.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[HoagieOfDoom]

No, I'm thinking the Evil Bastard Quotient was correct. There is always room for more EBQ, but Lelouch's machinations here were certainly Evil enough. Shit, making a FAE round detonate inside of it's cannon? *shudder**********
Touched By His Noodly Appendage
www.venganza.org