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
---
"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