Coup d'�tat

November 3rd, 2022 a.t.b.

With a contented sigh, Kallen let C.C.’s clever fingers bring her to her second, gentler climax. It had been a while after all--they had all been busy. Her nipples glistened in the dim glow from the lamps--a result of C.C.’s earlier attentions--as she stretched out on the rucked-up sheets.

Flipping aside her long hair, C.C. lay back down, spooning against Kallen’s side. She looked as unflappable as she usually did and if Kallen had not seen her face just fifteen minutes ago, she would have never believed that C.C. was capable of any strong emotions at all.

She idly traced the curve of the other woman’s waist and hip as they lay together in the warm afterglow. Girls did smell nicer than boys did . . . during and afterwards.

“Hey, does this place have room service at this time of the night?” she asked.

“Domestic staff are on shifts twenty-four-seven,” C.C. said, shifting over onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. “Even if they do call a half-holiday, there are lots of people on the graveyard shift.”

“Wow, this place just generates its own mini-economy,” Kallen said, half in jest. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Order a pizza. Phone’s over there . . . Press zero and ask for the kitchen,” C.C. said, stretching out languidly, one limb at a time. Arthur, dozing on the cushions of the small settee opposite the bed, opened one eye at the mention of food.

“When did you become such a princess?” Kallen looked at her in amusement as she got up to get the handset.

“A girl has to pamper herself now and then. It’s not like I go for facials and spa treatments every week or something like that.” C.C. looked thoughtful. “If I tried that, do you think they might not complain about ordering pizza so much?”

“Saaa, who knows,” Kallen said. “Guys are unpredictable and they say we are weird.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

November 3rd, 2022 a.t.b.

Prior to the fifth of November, the palace and government complexes were hives of activity. Twelve delegations from the former Areas had managed to present themselves in the capital in time for the coronation. It had been decided that the newer Areas would declare for independence first. The first colonies . . . they would take a little longer to sort out. Relentlessly optimistic people like Alonzo were positive it would turn out all right.

A minor holiday had been declared for the civil servants who had been working non-stop to make the upcoming event possible.

Anyone else in that situation, when told to “take a break” would have done so. The various translators and diplomatic negotiators had made themselves scarce and some were said to be hiding in dark cellars to obtain at least twenty-four hours of sleep without fear of being harried by their demonic taskmaster.

Speaking of dark cellars . . . said taskmaster himself had vanished into the vaults of the Palace archives since the early evening according the skeleton crew of staffers left on the night shift. It was a good half an hour before Suzaku found him in front of a massive bank of audiovisual equipment some three levels underground after disentangling himself from minor celebrations and getting Euphie’s call.

Lit up like a phantom from the pale glow of the monitor screens, Lelouch sat in the gloom, remote in hand. A mostly ignored tray of what looked like dinner sat by his elbow. The room was unheated and dimly-lit. Suzaku felt claustrophobic the moment he stepped in.

“Lelouch . . . Have you been looking at it frame by frame?” Suzaku asked, anticipating the obvious answer to that. Lelouch was silent, his eyes staring fixedly at the screen. “Don’t we both have an important appointment in the morning?”

His fingers were icy as Suzaku pried them one by one off the remote controller. The images on the screen froze and then blanked out as he turned the damned recording off.

Someone else might wonder what drove the prince to re-watch scenes from his own mother’s assassination over and over again. Suzaku said nothing as he tried to get Lelouch to stand, then when cajoling failed, carried Lelouch physically from the stifling vault.

Pot, kettle . . . All right then . . .

Large violet eyes, open and unseeing, stared at the ceiling above him as Suzaku laid him in the over-large bathtub and turned the water on.

The warm water brought some colour back into his pale limbs, though it took a while before the hand Suzaku held moved slightly.

“Hey, how long were you cooped up in there for?” Suzaku asked as he grasped those bloodless fingers and began to chaff some life back into them. “Honestly, there’s a--”

“The security footage was tampered with.”

Frame-by-frame, Suzaku had no doubt of it. And probably more than six solid hours.

“And now?”

“And now? I go back to chasing shadows,” Lelouch murmured, tilting his head back to lean against the white porcelain of the bath. “The hunt continues.”

Sometimes, Suzaku wondered which one of them was more obsessed with nigh impossible goals.

“With Your Majesty’s permission, of course,” Lelouch said, bringing the hand Suzaku held to closer him. “I apologise for being remiss in my duties today, but you did say to take a break, which I interpreted to mean that I could stop trying to talk sense into assorted delegates via translator.”

His lips were warm against Suzaku’s knuckles.

Pot, kettle . . .

A moment later, thigh-deep in bathwater, his clothes were getting soaked. If Lelouch was not trying to suck the air out of Suzaku’s lungs, he would have been scolded for getting his suit wet.

All right then.

Underneath his coat, Lelouch was an angular bundle of bones. He might have been sluggish and half-numbed by the cold before, but there was a strength born of desperation in his movements as he held Suzaku close.

To the end . . .

Lelouch would never forget. He would forge on relentlessly. Suzaku knew this as well as he knew every inch of skin under his hands. But he also knew what was needed to make the shadows of the past go away. Just for a little while.

To the bitter end.

It was difficult to manoeuvre within the confines of the large, slippery bathtub. But they managed, as they always did, to get the necessary garments out of the way. Lelouch wrapped his legs around Suzaku as he regained a little more strength, moulding their bodies together.

After all, we’re in this together . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * *

May 27th, 2017 a.t.b.

Standing on the hospital roof, Suzaku felt the wind change.

He had tried even though he knew that it was useless. Nothing he said was working because Lelouch had thrown his lot in with the resistance movement. They would not pass up the chance to use his intellect. Suzaku knew what Lelouch was capable of when he actually put in some effort into achieving something.

There was one more thing he had not tried . . . Suzaku did not need extrasensory abilities to read Lelouch. His weaknesses were there on display for the world to see.

Nunnally was his entire reason for living at the moment. Surely Lelouch knew that Nunnally would never condone this sort of thing? If she rejected him and his actions . . . That would destroy Lelouch more thoroughly than anything the Britannians could do.

“Nunnally wouldn’t have wanted that. Can you go back to her like this?” he asked. “And what would she do if you lost your life?”

“Don’t think for a moment that I never thought of that!” Lelouch said, whipping around to face him again. “Why do you think I’m willing to risk my own life?”

“You don’t care about dying--”

“In a world without war, killers aren’t needed,” Lelouch stated. “It may be that I don’t get to live to see it. That’s fine by me.”

It was then that Suzaku realised that Lelouch was willing to give up everything. He would gamble all.

“You can’t possibly have--”

“I’m going against Britannia--against my father, the Emperor. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t know the price for that.”

It was Suzaku who had forgotten. This was a prince of Britannia through and through. His mother had been a soldier and a knight while his father was . . . a warmongering tyrant. Fighting was in his blood despite his frail physique.

Dammit.

“I don’t want Nunnally to lose her brother. You shouldn’t be so selfish,” Suzaku said, finally raising his voice. “Consider Nunnally’s feelings, why don’t you?”

“You’re a fine one to talk about other people’s feelings! Maybe you should do so the next time you decide to throw yourself in front of some bullets!” Lelouch looked livid. “I almost had a heart attack! And was I supposed to keep the fact that you died in front of me a secret while Nunnally goes ‘Oh I wish Suzaku was here’ at dinner time?”

He was breathing hard after that outburst, Suzaku noticed. So it was something he had been keeping that pent up since that day. Since they were both venting . . .

“Well, you should think of how it’s going to be if I have to fight you!”

“Which wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t in the Britannian military!” Lelouch retorted. “Why are you serving the very Empire that invaded your country?”

Why indeed . . .

“Because it was the only way to make things better!” It sounded hollow in the face of Lelouch’s conviction. “I wasn’t born a prince or lord. But if I can get into a position to--”

“So what would you have done if you had been ordered to shoot the ghetto dwellers?” Lelouch demanded. “Refused a direct order? They would have had you charged with insubordination and your career would have been done for!”

The secret of his Geass was bubbling forth to the surface, but Suzaku gritted his teeth against his traitorous tongue. How could he tell Lelouch that he was waiting for the chance to use the witch’s gift to advance himself? As plans went, it was lacking many factors that relied entirely on the Geass. Lelouch would never leave so many things to chance. And that was only if Lelouch could even believe such a wild tale . . .

“You’re not a killer, Suzaku,” Lelouch was saying. “You can’t shoot to kill on command without questioning the order. I can understand becoming an Honorary Britannian to work your way into the system, but a soldier is something you’re not cut out for. I can’t imagine you killing anyone--”

If only you knew . . .

In his mind’s eye, he could still see the corpse of his father. That was a secret he had no desire to tell Lelouch. He also had to reconcile the small part of him that was glad that the razing of the ghetto had been halted. But it was true, his former self protested, what the Viceroy had done was wrong. What Clovis had done to C.C. or anyone else in the course of experimenting on human beings was . . . something he could not condone.

Lelouch would probably taunt him about the impossibility of bringing a prince to justice. And he was right. There was a set of laws for nobles and a set of laws for ordinary Britannians. The laws for Numbers and Honorary Britannians . . . were almost the same thing.

“How do you know?” Suzaku asked. Leluch stopped halfway through a sentence and stared at him. “A lot of things can change in seven years. You used to squirm when the gardeners sprayed pesticide on the caterpillars infesting the trees in the garden.”

“It was . . . necessary,” Lelouch said. “That’s what you said, back then . . .”

“Aa, I did . . .” He wished that they had not changed. That the innocence they once had was permanent. That at least those precious months could remain perfect and unsullied. But change seemed to be the only constant thing. “So how far will you go, to do what’s necessary?”

Lelouch looked him in the eye. “As far as I have to. Will you stop me?”

“If I have to. Do I have to?” Suzaku asked, feeling oddly lightheaded. He put it down to the severe blood loss he had experienced. “Can I trust that you won’t hurt people?”

“You can’t,” Lelouch admitted. “But it’s their choice if some of the Japanese want to fight the Britannians. It was not my intention to threaten innocents, Suzaku--Suzaku?”

“What?”

“You’re wobbling--”

“Just a little dizzy,” Suzaku murmured, gripping the IV stand like a crutch.

“You’re overexerting yourself, aren’t you? You were shot multiple times and you keep trying to pretend you’re all right--”

Lelouch’s lecture flew right over his head as he tried to concentrate on his wavering vision. He did not heal as quickly or as effortlessly as C.C. did--the resultant weakness was probably due to his body’s lack of resources to cope with the demand of rapidly regenerating cells. Those sandwiches seemed to have been consumed an awfully long time ago . . .

“I am mostly fine,” he said, straightening up despite his aching bones. “So you’re not going to change your mind? How are you going to fight without harming anyone?”

“That’s not possible and you know it,” Lelouch said ruefully. “But I’ll promise you this, no civilians will be involved. A war is about two opposing forces that choose to fight each other . . . If I am waging war against the Britannian military, that would mean fighting you, wouldn’t it?”

“And you’re all right with that too, I suppose?” It had come to this at last.

“No.” Lelouch smiled--a brittle, hard-edged twitch of his lips. “I will try to win you over. You know how stubborn I can be.”

“Yes . . . But I’m not so easily convinced.” Suzaku knew that everything would be different from this point onwards.

“Right, you haven’t changed in that respect.” There was a knowing, almost sad look in Lelouch’s eyes then. Resignation, perhaps.

“So I’ll be your opponent then?”

What have we done now? This is not a race up the hill . . .

“You need to be something higher than a lowly foot soldier first,” Lelouch said with a sardonic lift of his brows. “I intend to start out as the equivalent of a general.”

“Is that a challenge?” Suzaku invariably won and races or contests of strength and agility. This however, was a different playing field. And Suzaku understood what Lelouch was doing, even now.

“You needed a kick in the pants to get moving,” Lelouch said. “I won’t wait for you to heal completely.”

“All right.” It was not exactly fair because he had the Geass, but as his ability did not extend to Lelouch, it would balance out evenly. “Has it almost been an hour?”

“Ten more minutes. You should go back before you’re missed.”

“Can C.C. stay for a while with you?” Suzaku asked as he limped towards the stairs. It was unfair tactics to plant a mole like C.C., but Lelouch was probably not going to tell her anything important. “She might have to lie low for a while.”

“Hmph. I still don’t know what she is,” Lelouch began.

“You can call it a trade,” Suzaku said, wincing inside in anticipation of what C.C. was going to say about this. “I won’t tell anyone about you in exchange for you not telling anyone about her.”

Lelouch looked at him as though he had grown a second head. “So it’s come to this? Mutual blackmail?”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Suzaku said, knowing it for a fact. He had decided to head it off now rather than later.

“But I’ve already confessed to Clovis’ murder--”

“You already did what?” Suzaku thought he was beyond surprises by now. He was beginning to sound like a broken record.

“--Or at least I sent the video disc of my declaration to the relevant parties.” Lelouch looked thoughtful. “The fact that they haven’t broadcast it means that something else is afoot.”

Suzaku changed his mind right there and then. It was perfectly fair to have C.C. watching Lelouch even though she would probably come up with little of note. Lelouch needed some more surprises in his life.

“You declared war on Britannia?”

“Fair is fair. A warning of impending hostilities is necessary, correct?” Lelouch looked sideways at him. Seven years ago, there had been plenty of warning signs that Britannia was planning to invade. But they had struck with such force and abruptness that any preparations the Japanese had made were rendered useless.

“I see . . . You might need to warn them a little more firmly.”

“Naturally.” Lelouch inclined his head and made shooing motions at Suzaku. “You should be getting back now. Nunnally would not like it if you survived a shooting only to collapse from sheer bull-headed stubborness.”

“Tell Nunnally I’ll come visit,” Suzaku said, turning to begin the walk back to his ward.

“Get better so that you don’t look like something the cat dragged i--” There was a strangled sound as Lelouch stopped in the middle of yet another admonishment.

“Suzaku,” Lelouch said after a strained pause.

“Yes?”

“You’re not wearing any underwear, you moron!” Lelouch hissed. “How you survived in the army until now I will never know!”

He must have noticed the gaps in the back of hospital smock. Suzaku did not bother to explain that they did not issue underwear to recipients of major surgery so soon after patching up the bullet holes as Lelouch complained about his lack of common decency and his uncommonly inappropriate sense of propriety.

Some things never did change, Suzaku thought as they went back indoors. He was relieved for it was getting a little drafty out there.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

May 27th, 2017 a.t.b.

The overwhelming sense of being . . . overwhelmed was familiar to Ougi as he chaired the meeting between his resistance cell and the Britannian boy.

The honest-to-goodness Eleventh Prince of the Empire. Ougi was barely able to accept it and he could see that everyone else was having the same sort of cognitive dissonance.

The members who were present had turned up on the condition that they were allowed to be anonymous. Lelouch had graciously accepted those terms and if he discomfited by the fact that most of the dozen or so Japanese in the room were wearing sunglasses or masks, he did not show it.

They were gathered in a very cramp room above an old disused factory. A temporary venue that had no value and no implications for anyone involved.

He had neatly put all his cards on the table. A certain degree of financing, augmenting and enlarging their sphere of influence, improving their technological infrastructure and planning their operations . . . A lot more than what an average schoolboy could offer.

That was the other thing--they might be hosting this meeting, but the boy had taken over almost immediately. He had made no bones about his identity and it was working because people subconsciously expected royalty to take charge.

“It can’t be known that you’re the one strategising our moves,” Ougi began.

“I understand completely. Having someone more junior and a Britannian no less would undermine confidence in our cause.”

“You throw around fancy words like ‘our cause’, but I don’t see you bleeding for it,” Tamaki said.

“On the contrary. I have already stated my involvement in Clovis’ death,” Lelouch said, sitting back with a smile as the chorus of disbelief started up. He let it go on for a while then stood up suddenly. His abruptness caused everyone to look at him in silence. “Not as myself, of course. This movement needs a symbol--”

“So you just created one?” Ougi asked. “Before you even knew we were going to accept your proposal?”

“I have it here.” Lelouch produced a video disc. “A copy of this was sent to the Imperial Government Complex a day after the Shinjuku Incident. The fact that it was suppressed means that they’re up to something.”

“Who’re they?” Tamaki demanded. “And what is on that disc anyway?”

Lelouch passed the disc over to Ougi, who transferred it to the small portable video player on the table. “They may be agencies that wish to use Clovis’ death for their own purposes. That recording . . . is a symbol.”

Ougi toggled the “play” button and the assembled members of his admittedly small resistance group huddled closer to watch recording.

Someone sniggered at first, followed by Tamaki muttering, “Is this guy for real?”

But they quieted down soon enough as the gist of the message reached them. The speech was verbose and definitely aggressive in tone. But one could not help but listen to it all the way through . . .

“Well, it’s certainly attention grabbing--”

“You’re not serious! Who’d trust a guy in a mask?”

“So you’re going to declare a war with Britannia? Are you crazy?”

Lelouch held up his hand and it was almost frightening to see how quickly everyone looked his way and stopped talking. “Firstly, we have to legitamise our cause. The Britannians will seek to undermine us by labelling us terrorists. Secondly, masks are useful . . . Symbols can continue as long as the mask remains the same. It will also be useful if we need to create alibis.”

“So you’ve stated your involvement in the prince’s death and did it in such a way that there’s no doubt that you did it, but why are they suppressing it?” asked one of the female members that Ougi recognised as Hara Chieko. She had actually raised her hand before speaking.

“I have a few theories . . . which will be quickly confirmed once we find out who is in-charge of the investigation. Does anyone have any connections with the military? In the civil service?”

Someone murmured that they might know someone else who had a relative working for the Britannians.

“We’ll investigate that angle before we put forth the back-up plan, if that is all right with you,” Lelouch said to Ougi.

“That sounds reasonable,” Ougi replied, clearing his throat for the next step. “So you’ve all heard what he had to say. We’re going to put it to a vote now, so if you don’t mind stepping out for a moment . . .”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

May 29th, 2017 a.t.b.

Watching the news from the small television screen in the ward, Suzaku could not help but feel apprehensive. They had just released the report on the investigation of Prince Clovis’ murder. The investigation was headed by members of the Purists faction and true to form, they had announced that an Honorary Britannian soldier who had been on guard duty that day was being held on charges of treason and homicide.

It was a ridiculous allegation because anyone in the military knew that Honorary Britannians were not given any posts that would allow them near the high-ranking brass. But the Purists had been trying to keep Honorary Britannians out of the military for years--Clovis’ murder was a prime opportunity to for them to set up a ban on what they called “untrustworthy Numbers”.

He had requested headphones for it was the only way he would have been allowed to watch the news in his ward while the other three men slept the sleep of the heavily sedated. Thus he was distracted by the news and did not notice when a nurse came in and walked up to his bed.

When did nurses come in at this hour?

“C.C.,” Suzaku said, no longer surprised by recent events. He took off the headphones but left the television on.

“Most men would be glad to see a pretty nurse when they’ve been hospitalised for days,” C.C. said. She was dressed in the white tunic and pants that the nurses of the military hospital wore--doubtlessly stolen from the staff changing room.

“There aren’t any nurses that look remotely pretty here, unless you count the one who assists with the surgery and he’s male,” Suzaku pointed out. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

“And you’ve got the tact of a blind ox, so what else is new? I”ll take that as a compliment,” C.C. said. “I came to see you and this is what I get in return--”

“Sorry, but I’d rather you save the visits and not get caught again,” Suzaku told her bluntly. “You should stay put--”

“I came because your friend went out for the evening. He made doubly sure I wasn’t going to follow him.”

“How did he manage that?” Suzaku was impressed despite himself.

“He suggested that his sister should entertain me by taking me to the school play,” C.C. said. “I had to endure an amateur production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream—the Abridged Version’ before I could excuse myself. There’s no point in performing the classics if you’re going to abridge them--”

“So you think he’s going to meet up with the resistance cell he found?” One of the few things C.C. could be bothered to talk about was the arts and especially those that she had experienced personally.

C.C. shot him a look that clearly labelled him as a philistine in her book. “He’s already done so at least twice. The first time was after he came here to see you.”

He should have expected Lelouch to be well-prepared. Suzaku wondered if Lelouch had it all scheduled in his day planner: “3pm--finish classes. 4pm--visit old friend in hospital after stealing uniform. 4.30pm--make time for a long argument with said friend. 6.00pm--meet up with resistance group. 8pm--go home for dinner with Nunnally . . .”

“So he’s made his move--”

The television screen went blurry for a moment and suddenly went black.

“I think that might be your friend’s doing,” C.C. murmured, looking at the screen where the words “Transmission Interrupted” flashed on and off in bold letters.

When the screen cleared again, it was not the nightly news broadcast. Suzaku jammed the headphones back on and C.C. swiftly found another pair.

“People of Area Eleven--no, Japan,” said the masked figure on screen. “I am Zero and I cannot stay silent any longer because injustice upon injustice has occurred within the space of only a few days!”

The person’s voice was deep, booming and probably amplified. The mask was a helmet-like covering that disguised every feature of the speaker above the collar of the dark cloak he wore. But there was something about the way the figure moved that was extremely familiar--

“The murder of Viceroy Clovis was an execution. One life balanced against the thousands he ordered killed. Yet justice was not served. I sent word of the execution to the government, but it was suppressed. Now they claim that an Honorary Britannian committed murder--a ludicrous accusation with no grounding in fact,” the masked man announced with a grand flourish. “This is the hand that executed justice and I will ensure that the ones guilty of twisting such a horrific event for their own purposes be punished! For--”

The screen blinked out again and remained blank--someone had probably pulled the plug on the channel that had been hijacked.

“Lelouch,” Suzaku said in resignation as the screen flashed an apology for the interrupted news broadcast.

“He certainly has a flair for drama,” C.C. said critically. “Definitely over the top, but it’s attention-grabbing.”

“So he has their attention . . . now what will he do?”

“Well he’s not going confide in me . . . Here, I got you something.” A paper bag was thrust his way and Suzaku apologised for all the uncharitable thoughts he had had about C.C. that day as he found an assortment of filled buns and pastry inside.

“--ank’you,” he said around a mouthful of chicken-filled pastry. Swallowing, he took a gulp of water from the container at his bedside table. “You didn’t rob a bakery, did you?”

“Of course not. I went in when they were closing and got them to give the unsold ones to me before they threw it out. Such a waste of good food.” C.C. shook her head at the habits of the modern world. Somewhere in her past, she had known what near-starvation was like. “And it’s annoying to keep hearing ‘I’m hungry’ on repeat all day long.”

“Sorry--isn’t there some way to block it out?” He finished another bun and felt better now that he had some solid food.

“Not when you’re projecting like that. Anyhow, it’s better like this--I’ll always know if you’re still alive or conscious.”

“Speaking of that . . . Let me see what happened. I mean in the time when you were gone.” Suzaku reached out to her expectantly.

“Not so soon after you’ve eaten,” C.C. said, shifting away from his hand. “If you’re going to vomit everything out I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to get you food.”

Suzaku sat up straight in alarm. “It was that bad?”

“No--just not something you should see while you’re in a hospital undergoing surgery,” C.C. said. “I should get back before your melodramatic friend does. Don’t die on me now.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The witch was relieved that he had another reason for living now. It had been getting harder and harder to keep this one from going the same way some of the less stable ones did . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * *

May 29th, 2017 a.t.b.

“They’ve cut off Channel Six!” Tsugumi hissed to Ougi.

“Channel Four?” Ougi asked, one eye on the one-time AV technician manning the portable switchboard and another on the screen of the camera where “Zero” was making his point. They had managed to hijack the news broadcast just before the end, but some high-ups at Britannian Broadcasting Inc. had ordered the transmission to be completely cut. Now they were switching channels in an effort to keep their broadcast alive.

“I’m trying my best here,” the tech muttered as he fiddled with various switches and dials. They were currently using the satellite transmitter in one of the neighbouring buildings--right next door to the BBI. “Sooner or later, they’ll encrypt the signals and you’ll have to get someone who can hack into it.”

That would be an issue for the recruitment arm of the Black Knights. Within the space of two days, they had already been re-organised into committees.

After he had been accepted into the group, Lelouch had proposed a series of changes. His argument was that if they were going to go against Britannia, they had to be the exact opposite. Which meant opening up recruitment for all races, regardless of nationality, age and gender.

Hence the Black Knights. There had been talk of uniforms already.

“We’ve got Channel Four!” Tsugumi said, baring his teeth in a fierce grin. “On three now . . .”

The excitement was infectious. Tamaki gave the thumbs-up sign on Tsugumi’s count and Chieko started the recording again.

It was easier to be enthusiastic about what they were doing when there was a plan that actually worked. Ougi realised this as he continued to watch the operation.

Periodically, he would check on the security via the headsets they had acquired to replace their old walkie-talkies. “Kallen, how are things up there?”

“All clear--they don’t suspect that we’re right under their noses,” Kallen reported from the roof where she was standing as their lookout. The sheer audacity of the plan was working in their favour. With luck, they would manage to transmit the entire broadcast.

After this, they would no longer another small, unremarkable cell in the Tokyo area. Things certainly were changing . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Edit log: 15/03/09
Merged first three parts together. Added new chapter.