ALL HAIL BRITANNIA! A Code Geass Character RP (OPEN/IC)

[Bentus]

Shiro ran out of his house whilst still fumbling with the sleeves of his jacket. The brisk early morning Tokyo air hit him hard but ignored it through gritted teeth, a pounding in his head still not yet unnoticeable. He cursed under his breath as he glanced at his watch: 4:12 already, he was wasting time. Under normal circumstances, Shiro would not have dared walk these streets whilst wearing his uniform, but these were far from routine times. His designated pick up point was not 10 minutes away – he was willing to risk it.

The distant Tokyo skyline dominated the horizon, but it was marred by a plume of smoke rising from its outskirts. Shiro tried to ignore the clear sign of battle to no avail, his mind reeling with the implications if the allies had somehow struck at Tokyo already. The threat of invasion had always hung menacingly over the city, but as the centre of operations for the Britannian forces in the area, everyone had always considered it too heavily defended for any kind of attack to be mounted. As he moved closer to the main road, Shiro had begun to pass other people. One or two at first, but soon he was surrounded by the faces of commuters making their way from the outskirts to the industrial centre. Glares and venom were flashed in the direction of the medic who tried to pay them no attention, but made a show of turning up his collar none-the-less. Suddenly, Shiro found himself thrown to the ground.

“You filthy traitor!” a wad of spit landed on the winded man’s face. A brutal kick caused Shiro to clutch his stomach as he emitted a satisfying grunt. The Japanese man was clearly part of a local gang, surrounded by his posse of like-minded youths. The group proudly wore scraps of black felt tied hastily around their arms. Shiro tried to crawl onto his hands, gasping as he tried to recover his breath. “Take those things - off. You’ll get yourselves in trouble –“a second kick sent the auxiliary keeling over, with his assailants apparently taking offence at his comments.

“You’re the worst kind of scum. Turncoats and deserters collaborating with the Britannians. I bet you’re an honourable citizen.” That last comment evoked a chorus of laughs from the man’s friends, and was drenched with spite. “Ikoma! We gotta go!” the frantic voice resulted in a glare from the strongman which swiftly transformed into one of childish fear as he saw the Britannian military vehicle approaching down the motorway. One last savage kick was a parting gift to Shiro before the gang ran off into the crowd “You’re not welcome in Japan you bastards, give us back our country!” Shiro merely groaned before rolling himself over. He heard the screeching brakes of the car and the slamming of the door. The rapid footsteps and surprised cry followed right on a cue. “Damn it Shiro! Why the hell are you wearing the uniform?!”

---

Shiro held the tissue Chester had given him to his nose, the flow of blood finally seeming to relent. The duo walked quickly through the airbase towards the waiting hangar – the speed with which everything was happening was proof enough to Shiro that something was going wrong. “I don’t believe you Shiro. What were you thinking back there? You wear an auxiliary uniform that close to the ghettos you might as well have painted a great big bull’s-eye on your chest.” The Britannian was irate, this wasn’t the first time Chester had found himself rescuing his friend from hostile Elevens.
“There wasn’t enough time. It’s nothing I couldn’t handle.” Chester scoffed, distinctly remembering the situation differently to his Japanese comrade. “So what’s the emergency?” Shiro was almost frightened to ask, but knew he’d find out sooner or later.
“We’ve got word that the Chinese and Euros are mobilising, and a resistance group just launched a raid on a POW camp just outside Tokyo.”
“Christ. How many?” The prison camps, especially so close to the capital, aren’t too heavily defended. The soldiers stationed there are often the ones close to being shipped home or the fresh recruits who have yet to face the fires of battle.
Chester shook his head, refusing to slow down. “Too many. I’ll be damned if that’s a coincidence, and command agrees with me. We expect an invasion at any moment – I’ve heard rumours there’s already been skirmishes down south with the Chinese.” Shiro absorbed the information with a look of grim determination. If command were calling out the auxiliaries then they were in for a fight.
“Get me to my bird and I’ll play my part.”

[The BranRiech]

"Ah, screw this!" Yuri shouted in Russian, seeing that the resistance personnel had basically abandoned him as soon as the Britannain came by and surrendered. Figures, the resistance fighters, while fighting on the same side against the Britannians, were nothing more than opportunistic terrorists in Yuri's eyes. They needed the help, and that Knightmare would provide it, and provide Yuri a chance to get the hell outta' there in the confusion. With a Knightmare fighting on the Resistance's side, the Britannians would hopefully be too busy dealing with that to care about a single person hiding out.

He bolted from the alley, and past the Britannian lines, along with throes of civilians who simply wanted to get out of the area. He stuck with people who looked somewhat Britannian as well, hoping to blend in.

[Inquilabstan]

Shining Heavens Opera House
Vermillion Forbidden City
Chinese Federation

The Imperial Opera house was a place for grand celebration, a place of pomp and splendor. Built a century ago, and only recently refurbished, it was a tribute to the gods of the arts. All across the pure white walls, danced golden dragon motifs, playing a celestial game of hide and seek in the creme clouds. The stage an audience were not so grandiose. In the velvet seats that surrounded the stage like a massive purple wave, sat men in uniforms, suits, and native costumes. Here, a man in a severe pinstripe suit, and next to him, a woman in a bright yellow smock, accentuated with green embroidery work. All throughout, these collected officials and officers murmured to each other, their collective voice creating a great din. And suddenly, they were silenced, as a man approached the bare podium, his back to the countless flags that hung as the scenery ought to have done. He was not a man to take note of at sight. Dusky brown skin, and an iron black head of hair, a somewhat unkempt mustache and beard. Could have been half the men of Free Hindustan. Only his eyes stood out, marking him as a man of will. The fires that burned in them were the fires fed by rage. Pure unadulterated anger and hatred. As this individual cleared his throat, the hall grew quieter still.

"In His Name. I take refuge in Allah from the stoned devil. In the Name of Allah, The Compassionate, The Most Merciful. Peace be on the Seal of prophets, our Master and Prophet. Peace be upon you all, and Allah’s mercy and blessings. This is the traditional greeting of my people. We are a small group, we Muslims in Hindustan. But in days long past, we fought for our rights, so that the overwhelming forces arrayed against us would not drown our voices. Comrades, today, we do the same."

Bowing his head, he folded his hands in a namaste.

"Your Imperial Highness, Mr. Prime Minister, Your Excellencies and distinguished guests.

Allow me on behalf of the liberation movements, the revolutionary fighters and oppressed peoples of our countries, to express profound thanks to the Chinese Federation for the opportunity afforded to us to address this assembly at this critical moment in the history of our dear continents. The links between the Federation, the liberation movements and the peoples they represent are vital and therefore we are affected by every crisis that this mighty organisation goes through; we rejoice at its every triumph. When, as now, the United Oppressed People's Congress completes five years of its existence as a rapidly growing, active and dynamic organisation in the teeth of opposition by powerful forces, we cannot but rejoice.

When such an occasion is made more auspicious by the accession to the UOPC of the united liberation fronts of Mozambique and Sumatra, there is cause for even more rejoicing. When in addition, the Fifth Assembly takes place in revolutionary Ethiopia, which has suffered so much for the freedom of Africa and attained so brilliant a triumph in the victory of its revolution, our joy is boundless.The fact that Africa and South Asia are faced with great and continuing problems is no reason to minimise in any way the successes that have been achieved to the chagrin of our enemies. But in Africa, we must look now comrades, for there, where the enemy seems strongest, we shine!"

Suddenly, and violently, Muhammad slammed down his fist, his words with a seemingly new found passion.

"Comrades. Brothers and sisters. We are at War!

The liberation movements and nearly one billion oppressed Africans that they represent are at war. On the one side are the armies of white supremacy united in the unholy alliance of Britannia, and the local parasites who seek to inflate themselves through collaboration. On the other are the liberation movements with their guerrilla forces which are bravely challenging the vastly equipped military machines of white supremacy and Social Darwinism.

The struggle for freedom in Mozambique, Angola, Namibia, The Rhodesian Protectorate, South Africa and the Guinea and Niger Union is being intensified. In each case the struggle involves the training and building of liberation armies; providing them with weapons of war, providing medicines, types of food and equipment necessary to survive harsh conditions such as deserts, floods and cold. We have to build propaganda organisations both inside and outside our countries capable of maintaining the support of the population; inspiring them with noble aims and tasks of the struggle. We have to develop highly efficient underground movements capable of functioning under the noses of our enemies in conditions where the simple distribution of a leaflet carries the death penalty, as in practically all our lands, under the "Sabotage" Act.

The efforts of the liberation movements have been impressive in spite of great difficulties. They have built armies which are holding down thousands of men and machines, serving the tools of white supremacy, and their collaborators. Vast resources are being expended by our enemies in their efforts to frustrate the liberation movements. In Guinea alone, not to speak of Niger, over two-thirds of the territory has been liberated by the PFIG and the Imperialist forces have been confined to the defence of fortified positions. In Angola, the APF controls large tracts of territory and is slowly spreading guerrilla activity throughout the country. When Luanda falls, then where shall supplies flow to sustain the African front? In Mozambique, a remarkable National Congress of MNLF has recently taken place in the liberated areas, testifying to the strength of the liberation movement, the people defying death to be free; in Namibia, SWALF is intensifying its activity, especially in the north and central part of the country. In the Congo, CAPU continues to step up the mobilisation of the masses of the people for support and participation in the armed struggle in which the CAPU-APF guerrillas have been active since August last year. Comrades. While the flag of the enemy flies, it means nothing!

These successes should on no account be treated lightly in their immediate and long-term strategic significance. But we must not be misunderstood. The struggle is going to be a grim and bitter one. The agents of Social Darwinism in Africa control the wealthiest and most highly developed part of our continent.They will fight to the last to retain their ill-gotten gains. Therefore the liberation movements and Africa as a whole must be geared for a ruthless struggle in which no quarter can be asked for or given.

O honorable people! O fighters! O heroes! As I used to promise you of victory always, I promise you victory again."

A second later, the applause was deafening.

[Jordslag]

James strode up behind Werner. "Well well, an EU spy? I never thought you would actually attempt this. I guess I was wrong. You really are stupid." He said. He then said "Move the Princess to a safe location and check for Snipers. I don't want to see A SPECK of Britannian blood once you are done, understand me?" to the other Britannians. He held a pistol to Werner's head. "First things first: what is your name?"

[Ghondra]

"Mein Name ist Werner Brühler." Werner said, despite being a fluent speaker of English. He began to calculate the time it will take for him to grab his Tactical Knife, and take the Royal Bastard hostage.

[Jordslag]

"Mein Name ist Werner Brühler." Werner said, despite being a fluent speaker of English. He began to calculate the time it will take for him to grab his Tactical Knife, and take the Royal Bastard hostage.

"Uh huh. From the way you're looking at me, you want to stab me, don't you?" He asked. "WELL TOO BAD!" He shouted, shooting Werner right in the Kneecap. "I would do more, but they need you alive." He said, leaning on the wall.

[Ghondra]

Werner grunted in pain, holding his Knee in a tight manner, blood seeping from it like a waterfall, he struggled to reach his Pistol, but it was kicked away by one of the Britannian guards. "BRITANNIAN SCHWEIN!" He said, as he was dragged out of the Bedchambers.

[Jordslag]

Werner grunted in pain, holding his Knee in a tight manner, blood seeping from it like a waterfall, he struggled to reach his Pistol, but it was kicked away by one of the Britannian guards. "BRITANNIAN SCHWEIN!" He said, as he was dragged out of the Bedchambers.

"Natürlich. Aber wenn ich ein Schwein, müssen Sie ein Narr zu sein. Nun, ist es nicht sowieso egal. Europäische Union Kräfte müssen früher oder später zerstört werden. Sie sind nur ein Anfang." James said in very broken German. As soon as he was being pulled out of the room, James used his Geass on him and vanished.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
James wandered over to the side of the room, where Werner couldn't see him anyways, and breathed a sigh of relief. It hurt to act that tough. But, it was necessary. He didn't care if a few pompous fools had to be sacrificed for him to be noticed. It was necessary, and they had never been through what he had been through.

[Evraim]

Oranmiyan Palace - Bedchambers
Lagos, Britannian West Africa
The Holy Britannian Empire

"An admirable checkmate, little brother," Alyse la Britannia cooed, emerging from a secret compartment under her bed's frame. Her silvery hair was knotted and her evening gown was ruffled, but otherwise she seemed as carefree as usual. "The Nigerian Guard have already secured the grounds as well," the princess informed him, "Nayram reports that we have captured a dozen or so co-conspirators. I was expecting more of a challenge. How dull." A pout formed on her pretty lips, as she shot Werner as disappointed glance. With that, she flung her arms around Jame's shoulders, grasping him in a gentle hug from behind. "Will you be my knight?" she squeaked teasingly, pecking him on one cheek, "You'd look so adorable with the insignia and cloak."

Releasing the boy, his half-sister peered out through an open window onto the port whose construction she had overseen several months earlier. It was a lovely piece of infrastructure, blending the utilitarian aspects of functionalism and the aesthetic appeal of classical architecture. Motifs of lions and elephants, unicorns and dolphins, and giraffes and gazelle embellished open spaces, and a mural celebrating the accomplishments of Nigeria greeted all passersby. No weary soul who ventured ashore would fail to glimpse Obàtálá's rooster kicking up the dirt that served as the foundation for the world, nor an artistic rendering of the great chain of Àtúnwá, what some might call a form of filial reincarnation. Thousands upon thousands of men and women were linked hand to hand, faces fading from one generation to another, as the circle of life pressed into eternity.

The girl, for she could not perceive her own greatness in that moment, being more an insect than a princess before the sheer power of the sloshing ocean, whose trill held sway over her ears even from this distance, lost herself in the brilliance of the moon, that pearl which seemed so stark against the ebony veil of night. Then, she was in a world of her own making, detached from the concrete, mundane realities of governorship and palatial life. Alyse was genuine in her sentiments, in her awe, but that was not to suggest that this was not also a component of her machinations. With almost tender movements, the girl gripped her brothers hand, her silky soft skin brushing against his own in an intimate manner that only siblings who had undergone mutual suffering could comprehend.

"It hurts doesn't it?" she asked softly, her expression sorrowful, more so than the waves that chanted their lamentations for all to her in a plaintive voice that had existed from the beginning of time and that would exist until even the greatest mountains had crumbled to dust, bustling in the wind. Her very sorrow was beautiful. Her gray-blue eyes became pools of unadulterated emotion, so deep that they stole the breath away, and her smile, far from being mischievous, communicated something that words could not, an inexhaustible melancholy afflicting the spirit of mankind itself. "I know," she whispered sadly, "I can feel it too. This ocean breeze reverberates with solitude. Did you know, James? The Yoruba have a myth about the ocean. They say she is the loneliest of their goddesses, that her melodies are the wails of someone who has been abandoned by god himself."

"You see," she continued, speaking the falsehoods as though they were obvious truths, "Her brother was the prince of the deities who dwelt on the savanna. He wore a golden crown, and was much beloved by his people. Whenever he spoke to the ocean, she felt his affection in each word, and she loved him in turn. She also had a husband whose beautiful eyes drew the envy of every other goddess, and one thousand children, no less fair. Her husband was a kind man, who never raised his voice to her or dealt with her roughly, and he worked hard, coming home exhausted each day. Despite this, he never shied away from entertaining their children, or holding her close to his bosom." Alyse felt feigned tears welling up inside her eyelids, then wetness against her cool cheeks.

"One day," she murmured weakly, "Her brother and husband, acting in accordance with their duties, went off to make war on a neighboring tribe, taking all the young man of their nation along with them. The ocean waited a week for news of the outcome, and the return of her family, whom she loved more so than life itself. A week turned into two weeks, then a month, and then half a year. After a certain amount of time had passed, she donned a widow's garments, spreading ash and mud across her brow, and weeping in the streets. She wept and wept without end, until her tears flowed like rivers through the land. So strong had been her love. Seeing this display and taking pity on the goddess, the creator Olòrún made her spirit one with that of the ocean so that she would not perish from weeping."

"He then set the bodies of her bright-crowned brother, husband, and children in the skies so that they would have a burial befitting her passion," Alyse said, "Her brother became the golden flower of the sun. Her husband was memorialized as the blinking radiance of the moon. Finally, her children became stars, each a prince unto his own domain. However, the creator had misunderstood what the ocean's reaction would be. Upon observing the distance between herself and those she loved, her grief became boundless, as boundless as the waters that now comprised her. This has been her state since that time, with no consolation. Her waves, like arms, beckon and reach up to cradle her husband's head, but to no avail."

I suppose I should complete my acquisition of another piece, the princess reflected, pulling the boy closer to herself. "Look," she ordered him, tilting his head until he could see the moon, at the zenith of its loveliness, "And listen. Listen to her mourning cries. I swear to you that you will never know such pain, not so long as I still draw breath. Not you, my sweet brother. I will remain by your side until we are both withered and gray. I won't abandon you." Gingerly, she kissed his hair, then mussed it with one hand. "Let's go to the dining hall," she prompted him, "You might catch a chill if we stay in this chamber too long, and I'm not truly tired."

[Jordslag]

Oranmiyan Palace - Bedchambers
Lagos, Britannian West Africa
The Holy Britannian Empire

"An admirable checkmate, little brother," Alyse la Britannia cooed, emerging from a secret compartment under her bed's frame. Her silvery hair was knotted and her evening gown was ruffled, but otherwise she seemed as carefree as usual. "The Nigerian Guard have already secured the grounds as well," the princess informed him, "Nayram reports that we have captured a dozen or so co-conspirators. I was expecting more of a challenge. How dull." A pout formed on her pretty lips, as she shot Werner as disappointed glance. With that, she flung her arms around Jame's shoulders, grasping him in a gentle hug from behind. "Will you be my knight?" she squeaked teasingly, pecking him on one cheek, "You'd look so adorable with the insignia and cloak."

Releasing the boy, his half-sister peered out through an open window onto the port whose construction she had overseen several months earlier. It was a lovely piece of infrastructure, blending the utilitarian aspects of functionalism and the aesthetic appeal of classical architecture. Motifs of lions and elephants, unicorns and dolphins, and giraffes and gazelle embellished open spaces, and a mural celebrating the accomplishments of Nigeria greeted all passersby. No weary soul who ventured ashore would fail to glimpse Obàtálá's rooster kicking up the dirt that served as the foundation for the world, nor an artistic rendering of the great chain of Àtúnwá, what some might call a form of filial reincarnation. Thousands upon thousands of men and women were linked hand to hand, faces fading from one generation to another, as the circle of life pressed into eternity.

The girl, for she could not perceive her own greatness in that moment, being more an insect than a princess before the sheer power of the sloshing ocean, whose trill held sway over her ears even from this distance, lost herself in the brilliance of the moon, that pearl which seemed so stark against the ebony veil of night. Then, she was in a world of her own making, detached from the concrete, mundane realities of governorship and palatial life. Alyse was genuine in her sentiments, in her awe, but that was not to suggest that this was not also a component of her machinations. With almost tender movements, the girl gripped her brothers hand, her silky soft skin brushing against his own in an intimate manner that only siblings who had undergone mutual suffering could comprehend.

"It hurts doesn't it?" she asked softly, her expression sorrowful, more so than the waves that chanted their lamentations for all to her in a plaintive voice that had existed from the beginning of time and that would exist until even the greatest mountains had crumbled to dust, bustling in the wind. Her very sorrow was beautiful. Her gray-blue eyes became pools of unadulterated emotion, so deep that they stole the breath away, and her smile, far from being mischievous, communicated something that words could not, an inexhaustible melancholy afflicting the spirit of mankind itself. "I know," she whispered sadly, "I can feel it too. This ocean breeze reverberates with solitude. Did you know, James? The Yoruba have a myth about the ocean. They say she is the loneliest of their goddesses, that her melodies are the wails of someone who has been abandoned by god himself."

"You see," she continued, speaking the falsehoods as though they were obvious truths, "Her brother was the prince of the deities who dwelt on the savanna. He wore a golden crown, and was much beloved by his people. Whenever he spoke to the ocean, she felt his affection in each word, and she loved him in turn. She also had a husband whose beautiful eyes drew the envy of every other goddess, and one thousand children, no less fair. Her husband was a kind man, who never raised his voice to her or dealt with her roughly, and he worked hard, coming home exhausted each day. Despite this, he never shied away from entertaining their children, or holding her close to his bosom." Alyse felt feigned tears welling up inside her eyelids, then wetness against her cool cheeks.

"One day," she murmured weakly, "Her brother and husband, acting in accordance with their duties, went off to make war on a neighboring tribe, taking all the young man of their nation along with them. The ocean waited a week for news of the outcome, and the return of her family, whom she loved more so than life itself. A week turned into two weeks, then a month, and then half a year. After a certain amount of time had passed, she donned a widow's garments, spreading ash and mud across her brow, and weeping in the streets. She wept and wept without end, until her tears flowed like rivers through the land. So strong had been her love. Seeing this display and taking pity on the goddess, the creator Olòrún made her spirit one with that of the ocean so that she would not perish from weeping."

"He then set the bodies of her bright-crowned brother, husband, and children in the skies so that they would have a burial befitting her passion," Alyse said, "Her brother became the golden flower of the sun. Her husband was memorialized as the blinking radiance of the moon. Finally, her children became stars, each a prince unto his own domain. However, the creator had misunderstood what the ocean's reaction would be. Upon observing the distance between herself and those she loved, her grief became boundless, as boundless as the waters that now comprised her. This has been her state since that time, with no consolation. Her waves, like arms, beckon and reach up to cradle her husband's head, but to no avail."

I suppose I should complete my acquisition of another piece, the princess reflected, pulling the boy closer to herself. "Look," she ordered him, tilting his head until he could see the moon, at the zenith of its loveliness, "And listen. Listen to her mourning cries. I swear to you that you will never know such pain, not so long as I still draw breath. Not you, my sweet brother. I will remain by your side until we are both withered and gray. I won't abandon you." Gingerly, she kissed his hair, then mussed it with one hand. "Let's go to the dining hall," she prompted him, "You might catch a chill if we stay in this chamber too long, and I'm not truly tired."

James simply nodded through the entire conversation, somewhat freaked out by his Half Sister. "Yes, we should go down to the Dining hall." He said, at last. "There might still be assassins here. And no, I can't be your knight. The deeds of Knights aren't of if they can't be seen." He looked at his Half-Sister, and got up, and headed towards the dining hall. Halfway there, he used his Geass on his Half-Sister and laughed. If he simply kept pace with her, she wouldn't be able to see him. "She's thoughtful, but a little Naive and pompous." He said to himself.

[Escalan Corps-Star Island]

Kallen Stadtfeld, Outside Tokyo Settlement

---

"Skylark Seven, acknowledge. This is Bristol and SecEleven Command. Do you copy, Skylark Seven?"

Static flared briefly across the comma lines at the end of the request. The massive limbs of a Knightmare Frame scraped over broken shards of concrete as the vehicle lurched into the shelter of a crumbling wall, trailing sparks as it bumped over the uneven ground. A sharp crack sounded underfoot, and the Knightmare spun slightly. The hand of an enemy frame grasped the corner of the same wall at the opposite end, firing through the thin, acrid smoke at the first. Raising an arm, the Britannian vehicle froze as the shots caromed off of its dense armour. Whipping its rifle to its shoulder with startling rapidity for something of its size, the latter spat particles at its opponent, which caught the Chinese model on its right arm, tearing it at the elbow. More sparks flared from the exposed wiring, and the injured vehicle raised its blade in its undamaged left hand.

"Skylark Seven, I repeat, acknowledge. We're getting an IFF signal, but no other confirmations. Are you damaged?"

Kallen Stadtfeld gritted her teeth and triggered the Slash Harkens in the forearms of her Knightmare, watching with satisfaction as the rocket-propelled weapons slammed into her opponent's vehicle, crumpling the metal and sending it flying back against the building opposite.

"This is Skylark, Bristol. I hear you and acknowledge. Sorry, sir. Continuing offensive." With that, the pilot retracted the Harkens, the screech of metal on metal harsh to the ears as the gold-and-red tips tore out of the Chinese unit's torso, leaving it powerless. Raising her VARIS once more, Stadtfeld fired once into the hole her last attack had left, watching the resultant explosion tear apart the wrecked vehicle in a gout of flame but for an instant before turning back to her original target. Two additional Frames, larger models, stood across the ruined plaza from where she hid in her modified Sutherland, firing machine-guns at a band of Britannian foot-soldiers. Preparing to move from shelter and engage, she was distracted by a light blinking on her cockpit display.

"Skylark Seven, Skylark Two here. I'm on your left flank. Wanna take a crack at 'em with me?"

Kallen turned her head to the left, noting the orange Frame beside her Hinode. She smiled; its pilot, Lieutenant Adam Graham, was a close friend of hers- indeed, one of the few she truly had. Five years her senior, Graham treated her like a younger sibling on many occasions, which, though it would never fill the void Naoto's death had caused, was certainly welcome in the uncertain and tense world she occupied. "I wouldn't miss the opportunity," she replied with a quick grin. Slipping from the cover of the wall, she launched off several rounds before using her Slash Harkens to spring upwards, angling towards the building above the foreigners. As Graham closed the distance on the ground below, Kallen dropped like a stone onto the faintly lustrous back armouring of one, impaling it with the energy spear the Hinode wielded in its left hand. The bulk of the Federation vehicle shifted beneath her, rolling to the side in falling, and she sprung forwards only to find the armed the second Knightmare swinging her way. Countering its strike with a block from one arm, she attempted to drive the energy spear into the unprotected side of the enemy, but had it batted aside. Pressed back by the sudden ferocity of the Allied pilot, Kallen fired her third, chest-mounted Slash Harken, driving her enemy back and flooring it. It thrust itself upwards with one arm only to be met with a downwards swing of Graham's MVS. The oscillating blade severed both legs simultaneously, and the pilot ejected in sudden recognition of his defeat.
"Let him go," urged Kallen suddenly.

Adam shrugged in the confines of his cockpit. "You picked up a scratch or two there," he said offhandedly.

Kallen glanced at he outside of the Hinode, surprised to find a large swathe of paint missing from the right shoulder, presumably from impact during the fight. "Eh. War wounds," she joked fiercely.

"I wonder if Lloyd's got any new toys for us after this one," mused her counterpart.

"One can never be sure." Kallen paused, glancing down at the luminous display that showed the positions of her squadmates, noting that most were returning. The gunfire in their immediate area had died down, she realised, keying her headset. "Perhaps we ought head back for a change of energy fillers?" opined Kallen.

"Eh, sure," agreed Graham.

Pivoting, both Section Eleven Knightmares angled back towards the location of the Bristol Combat HQ, darting through the drifting smoke like colourful spectres. Kallen observed with approval that the EU and Chinese forces appeared to be falling back at last as she turned another corner around a broken marble edifice.

[Urran]

Tsuyoi laughed. "I think you had too much to smoke." He said. "For, while he is a horrible man, how are we better then him unless we let him live? Killing him is pointless. It dosen't achieve anything, and only gets blood on our hands. But, what you believe is what you believe. Our next mission is to take over an Airplane. We are headed for North Africa, after this. Just wanted to liberate a few Japanese P.O.Ws before I go. Lost 6 men though." Tsuyoi sighed. "Conflict like this will always happen on this imperfect world. By definition, a law a binding persons goals and views conflict with that of a criminal. Of course Conflict will happen. But if we make it as perfect as we can while retaining our Humanity, one day, all of us can go to heaven. That's what I believe." He then continued running, far over to his resistance group's camp.

"The blood of millions needs to be avenged." was his simple answer to that. Joining the Japanese resistance was not something that he ever thought that he would do, he never even thought that he would be in the military, but his father had changed all of that. If he had to fight, he would fight for the right reasons against an enemy that had no right to do what it was doing. "Just don't scratch my knightmare." he huffed. He hoped to find another Sutherland and actually do some fighting instead of being crammed into a single seat cockpit with a crazy man.

[Tenenza]

The Outskirts of Kobe, 2 hours into the Invasion

"Guan squadron, direct reverse and break formation. Continue fire until you leave range."

The air was enveloped with a wave of fine dust as the Landspinners tore up the ground. The Enemy Knightmares paused hastily, but the numerious sparks of bullet fire on their heavy armor quickly forced an action. Twelve booming explosions were heard as their anti-tank guns fire as one at the retreating Gun-ru Squadron. All would miss. But the Britannia pilots would never get the chance to learn that. Moments after the synchronized blast of heavy cannon fire, another explosion rang out across the battlefield. The Japanese Resistance squad 9's ambush had gone off perfectly. The rockets had pierced the armor of the Knightmare's cockpit, and tore through and detonated inside.

Xiaodan carefully refiled the Britannian personal documents and turned back to the tactical map. The bluff had worked. The commander of the southern Japanese occupation forces was a noble, a colonel Millford. He was young, but aged before his time by war. Well liked by his men, cared deeply for his men's well being. Willing to retreat if necessary to avoid casualties. So when Guan squadron's retreat offered him an oppertunity to save his men's lives, he took it. A half-hearted barrage of anti-tank fire, which was ineffective at the current range, and then he could pull back his men. Right into the sights of the Japanese Resistance. He probibly didn't even notice that Guan squadron was using microbullets, which wouldn't have pierced his Knightmare's armor given an hour.

The ground rumbled as the Chinese Federation Knightmares and their supply convoy continued past Kobe. Reports had started coming in that the forward skirmishing units had made an early assault against Tokyo. They had been routed and where now trying to regroup with one of the tactical battalions. Xiaodan was reclining in a chair stolen from the Britannian Commander's officer when she heard the news.
"What a mess." she whispered to herself.

[Jordslag]

Tsuyoi laughed. "I think you had too much to smoke." He said. "For, while he is a horrible man, how are we better then him unless we let him live? Killing him is pointless. It dosen't achieve anything, and only gets blood on our hands. But, what you believe is what you believe. Our next mission is to take over an Airplane. We are headed for North Africa, after this. Just wanted to liberate a few Japanese P.O.Ws before I go. Lost 6 men though." Tsuyoi sighed. "Conflict like this will always happen on this imperfect world. By definition, a law a binding persons goals and views conflict with that of a criminal. Of course Conflict will happen. But if we make it as perfect as we can while retaining our Humanity, one day, all of us can go to heaven. That's what I believe." He then continued running, far over to his resistance group's camp.

"The blood of millions needs to be avenged." was his simple answer to that. Joining the Japanese resistance was not something that he ever thought that he would do, he never even thought that he would be in the military, but his father had changed all of that. If he had to fight, he would fight for the right reasons against an enemy that had no right to do what it was doing. "Just don't scratch my knightmare." he huffed. He hoped to find another Sutherland and actually do some fighting instead of being crammed into a single seat cockpit with a crazy man.

"Millions of Britannians have died too. They have a reason to fight now." Tsuyoi said. "And don't worry, 'your' Knightmare won't be scratched- much." Tsuyoi grinned. "Ah, but we're here. Time to get out." Tsuyoi opened the cockpit and hopped out into the Rebel base.

[Urran]

"Hmph." Benjamin grunted and stayed in the cockpit, pulling out his service pistol and he stood up and looked about their surroundings, gunfire and explosions from the fighting could be heard. "What's your plan oh great intellect?" Being a Captain, he did not like taking orders from anyone, but he really didn't have a choice at this point. He had one goal, get the prisoners out. However that was accomplished wasn't up to him obviously.

[Jordslag]

"Hmph." Benjamin grunted and stayed in the cockpit, pulling out his service pistol and he stood up and looked about their surroundings, gunfire and explosions from the fighting could be heard. "What's your plan oh great intellect?" Being a Captain, he did not like taking orders from anyone, but he really didn't have a choice at this point. He had one goal, get the prisoners out. However that was accomplished wasn't up to him obviously.

"My plan is to Hijack a plane and leave this Warzone for another, more crucial one. The African Campaign. Your Knightmare is the second functioning Knightmare we've captured. However, I still don't entirely trust you. You can keep this Knightmare, if you are willing to fight the Brittanians. However, I am going to pack it with explosives and keep the detonator in case we even suspect you. Got that?" Tsuyoi asked, in an irritated tone. He then continued walking to the Troop Barracks.

[Gigaverse]

Lucius Kingsley
Knight Commander; Knight of Saint Gabriel

Archduke Highland's Residence, New Velaines, Britannian Homeland
July 10th, 2017 A.T.B.
1800 Hours

"You say this is an urgent mission that needs to be accomplished...?"

The man in white attire spoke with a loud, clear voice. He looked onto the glass of red wine that his hand was holding. Sunset shone upon the glass, which itself shimmered in the little drops of sunlight left before the dark curtain of night approached. On the other side of the unlit room, a towering giant stood, wearing the black long-coat associated with the Knights of Saint Gabriel. The right half of his face was covered in shadow.

"What else could it be?", replied the blond-haired Knight in black, his voice calm, his tone lowered, his expression cold.

"Has any attempt of yours actually succeeded in the long run? Contracting with Eowyn the Great King? Manipulating Earl Benjamin Franklin? For what cause?"

"My quotas."

"What?"

For a brief moment, there was only silence.

"You will not understand if you are not in my circumstances, for I seek no less than a candidate to assist in the downfall of an Empire that is neither Holy nor Britannian."

"Look, Sir Lucius Kingsley... I have known you for a while now, and I know what you are capable of. But have you not stopped and think for a second: we are doing what's best for our people here."

"Is this not the excuse of the weary escapists and racist tyrants?"

"Is this not the way this Darwinist society should be?"

Lucius drew a long sigh, and looked to the sun setting outside the windows. He then turned his back to the Archduke, walking to the door of the room.

"The way you see things, Archduke Highland, is within a tiny box called 'Britannia'. I cannot see why I should join you in this box of yours... You will regret the day when that box is turned inside out. Thus, your dearest daughter and I bid you farewell."

"What did-"

Highland dropped the glass of wine onto the carpet. When it broke into shards, the reddish color tainted the carpet, and the Archduke dragged out a pistol. He didn't get a chance to shoot, however: the Knight in black shot the firearm out of Highland's fingertips with his own pistol.

"It has been an enjoyable time I've had here in your domain. But now, I must leave. My Lord Archduke, I beg your pardon, for tonight is the day your daughter knows of the outside world and contributes to the annihilation of the old society."

The Archduke, knowing he couldn't hope to put up with the titan's prowess, did not bother to pick upthe firearm by his left foot. He did not move, nor so much as uttering a word.

"I trust that you know your daughter is in good care."

Holding his calm demeanor, the Knight walked outside, leaving behind a quiet emptiness and a shocked nobleman.

[Titananium]

Shanghai, China 1 hours into the invasion

Erwin Reinhold had decided to take break while his mech was being charged and reloaded, and seeing as his orders for the invasion of Britannian held Japan had not arrived yet he went into the makeshift bar that the chinese soldiers had made. It didn't look to inviting seeing as it was in essence made of a large camping tent, some polls, and a small counter acting as the bar. However he could go for a drink even though alcohol didn't really affect him anymore, so he enter the makeshift bar and immediately looks of confusion, and fear pointed towards him.

"Can I help you?" Reinhold said with his surprisingly deep voice. Simultaneously everyone simple turned back around and continued what they were doing. He step to the bar and sat down, the chair barely surviving under the heavy weight of his mechanics.

"One Gin Tonic please" he said. A minute later the bartender, who looked much like a young recruit gave Reinhold his drink.

"Here you are sir"said the bartender with a slight anxiety in his voice. Reinhold grab his drink, as a straw dispensed itself from his helmet and dropped into the drink. It sucked the entire drink in one go, as if it was a vacuum. "Another one please" he asked.

"Certainly sir" said the bartender, as he poured Reinhold another Gin Tonic. The process repeated many time, until Reinhold had assimilated around 19-23 drinks.

"Would you like other?" said the bartender, as he held the drink shaker in his hands. Reinhold didn't say anything, he simply lifted his visible robotic hand and made a motion to stop pouring his drinks. His attention, was now brought to the man who had sat next to him, just a second ago.

"Your mech is ready for battle" the man said, as he left an envelope next to Reinhold. While Reinhold opened the envelope the man left the bar, he began reading it with urgence as the message was labeled "Your Orders".

"Great, so much for enjoyment" he thought to himself, as he stood up causing a large squeal from the chair, then left the bar.

Several Minutes Later

Erwin was now entering into his battle machine, and getting ready to load onto the next transport craft to Japan. It would be another two hours before he arrive in Japan.

[Nuridia]

Lagos Bazaar,
Lagos, Britannian West Africa,
Holy Britannian Empire,
"Finally, I thought that plane ride would go on forever." the voice of a young adult woman said as she browsed through the bazaar after her plane ride was over. Normally she would be wearing gowns and things befitting her station, however she was just as comfortable in a nice suit or even better her lab coat as she worked. The young woman wore an elegant and expensively made pantsuit alternating red and navy blue. The broad sunhat she wore was tilted to one side, hiding her light pink hair underneath it. Charlotte li Britannia, known to her family as Lottie was at the bazaar to ask directions, and maybe find out some intel on this war. There was a palace here that her brother James lives in with their half sister Alyse, she would go and see them as soon as possible. "How could the Empire want to annex such a beautiful place, it really is a shame." Charlotte told herself, her blue eyes and silver glasses catching the glint of the bright African sun. She spoke to a few shopkeepers and civilians, secretly taking notes that would help her come up with a plan to stop this war once and for all. She didn't reveal her identity for fear of assassins, and bought a few things both as gifts and supplies that she could build more inventions with. "Chief Inventor of the Britannian Empire, sounds like it has a great ring to it." Lottie said to herself before leaving the bazaar and going to find her way back to the road as she called her driver and told them to bring her car effective immediately.

On The Road to Oranmiyan,
Lagos, Britannian West Africa,
Holy Britannian Empire
"Did you put in a call to Alyse and James and tell them I was coming?" Charlotte asked, driving her own car down the road while her driver sat in the passenger. All of her bags were in the back seat. "Of course Princess, I sent a telegram to Oranmiyan Palace at once." "Wonderful." Lottie told the man. She wondered how much her little brother had changed because of the war, and how Cornie and Euphie were doing. She missed them, they were probably all the way back in Britannian homeland or somewhere. Lottie and Alyse didn't really speak much. Charlotte kept driving, soon they would be at Oranmiyan Britannian Palace. She wondered what would happen when she got there.

[The Polarian Empire]

Euphemia li Britannia

Third Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire

Pendragon, Imperial Capital of the Holy Britannian Empire

July 10th , 2017




Euphemia li Britannia, the Third Princess of the holy Britannian Empire , has now officially involved herself in the international conflict. Waking up and looking around the palace asking servants, maids and even politicians and officials one question and one question only.

"Has anyone seen my siblings. Do you know where Cornelia or James happen to be at" she asked.

---

Cornelia li Britannia

Second Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire

Pendragon, Imperial Capital of the Holy Britannian Empire

July 10th , 2017


After hearing of the European spy that James arrested , Cornelia decided to see the European scum for herself.

She was just getting ready when someone following her tripped over a crack in the ground and tripped on the floor.

"God damn, Euphie, what are you doing here" Cornelia scowled

"I am going to Lagos with you , and you can't say no because I already told Dad I was leaving" Euphie declared.

"How did you know.... So thats why Schnizel threatens the servants, Fine you can come. Did you get someone to" Cornelia muttered before she was interrupted by her young and pink haired sister.

"Yup, someone is transporting my new Knightmare Frame "Portman " to Lagos already and I packed my luggage. Lets go! " said Euphemia.

---

Lagos , Britannian West Africa

"We made it, we have landed. Hello Lagos" said Euphemia

"Pipe down before some assassin hears you" Cornelia advised "I don't want you getting hurt"

They drove up to where James, Alyse and Charlotte are staying at and They both ran up to the front door and Cornelia knocked on the door.

"Its us, Cornelia and Euphemia" said Cornelia

[Jordslag]

Euphemia li Britannia

Third Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire

Pendragon, Imperial Capital of the Holy Britannian Empire

July 10th , 2017




Euphemia li Britannia, the Third Princess of the holy Britannian Empire , has now officially involved herself in the international conflict. Waking up and looking around the palace asking servants, maids and even politicians and officials one question and one question only.

"Has anyone seen my siblings. Do you know where Cornelia or James happen to be at" she asked.

---

Cornelia li Britannia

Second Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire

Pendragon, Imperial Capital of the Holy Britannian Empire

July 10th , 2017


After hearing of the European spy that James arrested , Cornelia decided to see the European scum for herself.

She was just getting ready when someone following her tripped over a crack in the ground and tripped on the floor.

"God damn, Euphie, what are you doing here" Cornelia scowled

"I am going to Lagos with you , and you can't say no because I already told Dad I was leaving" Euphie declared.

"How did you know.... So thats why Schnizel threatens the servants, Fine you can come. Did you get someone to" Cornelia muttered before she was interrupted by her young and pink haired sister.

"Yup, someone is transporting my new Knightmare Frame "Portman " to Lagos already and I packed my luggage. Lets go! " said Euphemia.

---

Lagos , Britannian West Africa

"We made it, we have landed. Hello Lagos" said Euphemia

"Pipe down before some assassin hears you" Cornelia advised "I don't want you getting hurt"

They drove up to where James, Alyse and Charlotte are staying at and They both ran up to the front door and Cornelia knocked on the door.

"Its us, Cornelia and Euphemia" said Cornelia

OOC: Nuridia, if Charlotte is at the palace, can you let us in?

The Door swung open, and James was there, with his gun out. "Oh, I thought you were Assassins. Please, come in." He said. He walked back inside, over to the Kitchen. "I have some tea, if you want any!" He shouted over to them. He rather liked his Sisters, despite Cornelia's total determination to wipe out every E.U. soldier on earth, and Euphemia being somewhat persistent and annoying. They were okay. He just wished he wasn't stuck here. He had always wanted to go to Japan, but he wasn't high-ranking enough. He was surprised that his Sisters even remembered him, much less that they cared about him. Ah, well. Such trivial matters could be worried about later.

[Nuridia]

Charlotte finally pulled up to the palace. It was a rather splendid place just like most of the things that Britannia owned. When she stepped out of the car and grabbed her bags, she saw a surprising but welcome sight. Her sisters Cornelia and Euphemia were already there, and her brother James had opened the door for them. "Hey Cornelia, Euphie!" Charlotte called, going over to her sisters. "I missed you guys, how's James doing?" Lottie asked, taking off her hat and letting her pink hair fall past her waist.

[Jordslag]

Charlotte finally pulled up to the palace. It was a rather splendid place just like most of the things that Britannia owned. When she stepped out of the car and grabbed her bags, she saw a surprising but welcome sight. Her sisters Cornelia and Euphemia were already there, and her brother James had opened the door for them. "Hey Cornelia, Euphie!" Charlotte called, going over to her sisters. "I missed you guys, how's James doing?" Lottie asked, taking off her hat and letting her pink hair fall past her waist.

"I could be worse Charlotte. My Commando team and I finally managed to kick the E.U. out of Nigeria, but they are still on the border. Not that it matters. They'll fall soon enough. We already have a master plan for invading the CF." James said. Then, a Gunshot resounded throughout the building. There was a thud from over in the Kitchen, and a person wearing a mask ran off.

[Nuridia]

"What in the hell was that?!" Charlotte shouted as the gunshot rang out and the masked man ran away. The princess went into the palace, her machine gun armed and ready but watching for assassins. "Somebody stop that man, I'll check out what's going on!" Lottie called out, surveying the crime scene and keeping her guard up. She wasn't going to let any assassins kill her that day. This was becoming a problem, the empire was hated around the world. But the princess couldn't say that it was undeserved, the Britannians nearly annexed the entire world and did terrible things to the other nations.

[Jordslag]

"What in the hell was that?!" Charlotte shouted as the gunshot rang out and the masked man ran away. The princess went into the palace, her machine gun armed and ready but watching for assassins. "Somebody stop that man, I'll check out what's going on!" Lottie called out, surveying the crime scene and keeping her guard up. She wasn't going to let any assassins kill her that day. This was becoming a problem, the empire was hated around the world. But the princess couldn't say that it was undeserved, the Britannians nearly annexed the entire world and did terrible things to the other nations.

There was a soft gurgling sound from the Kitchen. James was still alive, but wounded. The Bullet went through his neck, but somehow avoided striking anything too major. The shock made James stuck on the ground.

Meanwhile, the Masked person, chased by security, ran several flights upstairs, broke through a window... and simply jumped out. A few seconds later, a sick thud sounded which let them know that they had reached the ground, wether living or dead.