Chapter Text
November 7th, 2020 atb, Rural New Hampshire
The woods of Mount Franklin were a cold, frigid place, and Anya Alstreim would give almost anything to leave this desolate forest behind. Even prepared as she was, bundled in a cumbersome fur coat and swaddled in several layers of warm clothing, Anya could feel the chill cling to her bones. The sharp winds that brought even more biting cold did not help matters either: it felt as if she was being buffeted by the unnatural weather every other minute. She was half convinced that this land was not suited for human habitation whatsoever, and that the whole of Britannia would be better off leaving this place to the native wildlife.
And yet, signs of life and habitation existed, even in such an inhospitable place.
Anya stared at the military encampment miles ahead of them through her binoculars, a minute frown marring her features as she studied the setup. The base itself was carved into the summit of Mount Franklin, near the entrance to a seemingly innocuous cave system. She could see all sorts of tented structures and buildings littering the camp, though to her eye, most of it looked new, and distinctly not made to function in such harsh weather. But besides that, the rest of the military camp was largely unremarkable, and much the same as Anya had seen before during her time as the Knight of Six.
She could see a series of guard towers manned by a whole squadron of soldiers, while barbed wire fencing could be seen all along the area. Additionally, there was a tank positioned near the camp's main entrance, and as if that wasn't overkill enough, two Sutherlands were stationed at the encampment as well, the mechanical giants keeping a watchful gaze over the surroundings. Though given the makeshift military hanger near the back of the camp, she was willing to wager that the soldiers had more than just a simple pair of Sutherlands to call upon. Besides that, she couldn't see any other additional firepower or military vehicles, aside from some transportation vehicles: though that did not mean no such mechanized equipment weren't present.
But, all of that mattered little to Anya at that moment. No, her true target of concern was the entryway to Mount Franklin's cave system, situated near the back of the encampment. Moving her gaze in that direction, she could see a heavy guard presence near where the cave opened up, with a group of soldiers standing near a nest of sandbags, barbed wire obstacles, and machine gun emplacements. Though curiously enough, the machine guns seemed to be pointed toward the caves rather than away from them. Other than that, she could see no other defenses placed near the area, though she was willing to wager there might be more inside the cave, where she could not see.
Anya idly chewed her lip, looking at nothing in particular as she processed what she had seen.
"So, Anya? What's the verdict?" Gino idly asked behind her, bringing her back to reality.
Anya removed the binoculars from her face, standing up from where she'd been crouched on the frost-coated ground. She and Gino were located on a hilltop miles away from the actual base: far enough away that, ideally, they would not have to be worried about any of the soldiers from that installation stumbling upon them.
Although, she felt fairly certain that the pair of Britannian soldiers that she and Gino had killed at this hilltop would be missed very soon.
"I've got good news and bad news," Anya idly reported, handing the binoculars over to her comrade.
"Well, it'd be nice to hear some good news for once," Gino quipped, a tired smile tugging at his lips. "Let's hear that first."
"The good news is, I'd estimate that we only have a hundred soldiers eking out a miserable existence in that blighted camp," Anya dutifully reported. Then, in a darkened tone she continued. "The bad news is that we have a hundred soldiers standing between us and our goal."
Gino made a displeased noise, a grimace flashing over his features. He smoothed it out just as quickly, however, and gave out a soft sigh. "Well, it is what it is. It makes me wonder why there's such a strong military presence in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, though. I mean, we're miles away from the nearest town, and even further away from any known military asset. No way there'd be a random base in this winter wonderland, not unless it had some sort of strategic value."
Anya gave a slight nod, following his train of logic. "That must mean we're in the right place, then. We're almost at the Thought Elevator."
They better be in the right place, at least. Anya's memories of the locations of the Thought Elevators had faded somewhat with time, but she and Gino both had enough faith in them to risk coming all the way out here. Besides, better to try their luck in the Britannian homeland, then waste their time scouting out potential locations for the Caribbean Thought Elevator.
"Exactly," he said, giving her a grim smile. "Which means we're just a few steps away from striking a decisive blow against that bastard Norland."
Anya refrained from making a comment at that, seeing it for the empty promise of a hollow victory that it was. Whether or not Gino believed that himself, however, she could not say.
But judging by the lack of warmth in his eyes, and the slight tremor in his hands, she had a feeling he didn't. Indeed, she was fairly sure it had been a long time since Gino had had any genuine hope lifting his words. These days, the only fire that lit in Gino's belly was sparked by the flask he drank from, the same flask that Anya knew did not contain water.
She did not say anything about her own observations, however. To acknowledge them might spark an argument with Gino, and she did not want to fight with him. She had so few friends left now, and he was the only one she knew was still alive: in body, if not in spirit. So instead, she moved onto the practicalities of the matter.
"How do you propose we get in there?" she asked, gesturing toward the base below them. "It is not as if we are Knights of the Round anymore. We cannot simply stroll in and expect a warm welcome."
Gino gave a soft hum at her point, idly stroking the sparse blonde hairs that peppered his jawline. She felt her eyes drawn to the patchwork facial hair, her nose wrinkling with distaste. Anya greatly disliked his attempts at growing a beard, largely because it looked utterly revolting to her. But part of Anya was also afraid of what he might do with a razor blade, if trusted with one, so this was the lesser of two evils.
It wasn't like she had anything to complain about, anyway. They both looked equally terrible, in their own ways.
Gino's face was streaked with bits of dirt and blood, while beneath his layers of warmth he was cloaked in the tattered remnants of a Black Knights uniform. Meanwhile, his missing left eye was covered up by a patch, and his once luscious blonde hair was falling behind his back in a bedraggled, dirtied state. He looked far from the illustrious gentleman he had once presented himself as, to say nothing of his beatific looks as the Knight of Three. But it wasn't as if he was all that bothered about his looks these days: something Anya knew should concern her, but she just couldn't bring herself to care.
Anya herself looked no better. She had long since dyed her distinctive pink hair into a dull, muddy brown, to better blend in, and had exchanged the overalls she'd favored at Jeremiah's farm for a cut up top and pair of jean shorts to allow her more efficient use of movement (an outfit choice she was sorely regretting now, in this frigid wasteland). Her left pinkie and ring fingers were noticeably missing as well, reminders of that dark, terrible day on Jeremiah's orange farm when her world had come to an end. And, while it was hard to discern through her bundled state, her already slim figure was drawn to a gaunt, almost skeletal frame, her skin hanging off of her bones. Anya liked to blame her lack of proper food for her woes there, but it wasn't like she had much of an appetite when she did eat. If not for Gino, Anya wasn't sure she'd have bothered trying.
Though most noticeable of all, however, was the lack of life in her soulless eyes. Her rouge-red irises contained none of the vivid warmth that had marked them in the year she had lived at the Gottwald Farm, instead reverting to that same dull crimson that Anya had worn most of her young life. Back then, her frequent memory lapses had been the cause of her listlessness, the torment of never knowing just what was wrong with her eating away at her core like nothing else. Now, it was caused by a lack of hope; from being beaten down in a dark, bleak world devoid of the few friends and luxuries she had built for herself.
If Gino noticed how much of a walking corpse she already was, then he said nothing, bless him. Though Anya knew it would be pot calling the kettle black here. She'd seen the way he cradled his gun, after all.
"Well," Gino finally said, drawing her back into the present. "We could always fight our way in."
"Just the two of us? With what weapons? We have, what, a pair of pistols, the stolen rifles from the soldiers we killed, one knife, and two grenades. That's not a lot of firepower to take on a whole military camp," Anya pointed out dismissively.
"Heh, really just the one grenade. Looks like one of the grenades we got from Sokkia at the Glinda Knights cell was a dud," Gino confessed, giving a small sigh.
"Of course it is. That seems to fit our luck perfectly," Anya remarked, rolling her eyes.
"Okay, okay. So a frontal assault is out of the question," he said, humming in thought. He paused a moment later, his brow furrowed as he considered a new plan of action. "I do have another idea. But you're not going to like it."
When Gino elaborated on his proposal, his warnings proved true: Anya did not like it, not in the least. However, it was the only plan they had, and so Anya resigned herself to make do with it.
Their subsequent trek through the woods took quite a bit of time, and Anya hated every minute of it. The weather was really getting at her now, her body continuously assailed by the persistent chill and the buffeting winds that just would not let up. The set of restraints chafing her wrists did not help matters either: they irritated her skin to a surprising degree, more than she had anticipated. Anya desperately wanted to rip them off so she could make it stop, but there was no telling when foreign eyes would be upon them, so she had to refrain from such.
Gino marched behind her at a measured pace, doing his best to act the part of a proper Britannian infantryman. Miracle of miracles, one of the patrolling soldiers they'd killed had been his size, and the stolen uniform had been free of visible blood to boot, giving Gino access to an easy disguise. She highly doubted the ruse would last very long, however, especially if he was forced to take off his helmet at any point. But it would, ideally, keep long enough for them to get into the camp.
Anya was content enough to remain silent as they trudged along, but Gino couldn't let such a thing stand. Instead, Anya heard him start whispering to her as they went along.
"Why now?" Gino murmured, his voice slightly muffled from the face-concealing helmet over his head. "Why now, of all times? The Black Knights spent so long looking for her, in the early days of the conflict, only to never find her. I thought for sure Norland had gotten his grubby hands on her."
Anya bit her cheek, resisting the urge to chastise Gino. It would do her no good to try and end the conversation now: she recognized his tone of voice. Gino was getting himself worked up, and was unlikely to back down now, unless she engaged with him.
Besides, he did bring up a good point.
"Maybe she was in captivity, but only recently broke out," she suggested, giving a small shrug. "Lelouch told me that that was how he met her, actually. Apparently he and Kallen's Shinjuku cell were involved in this whole convoluted series of events that led to Lelouch accidentally freeing C.C. from imprisonment."
"Is that so? Hm. Maybe," Gino said, though he sounded unconvinced. "Still, whatever the case is…I still gotta wonder, what does she plan to do? Why did she ask for you, specifically? Does she plan on giving you a Geass, or something? Any new weapons would be good against Norland, but…"
He trailed off, his words dying in the wind as silence settled upon them again.
Anya did not prod him to continue, as she understood his sentiment well enough. Geass would be good, honestly, but even the Power of the King felt like a poor blade to wield against Norland. Not when he already controlled so much of the world now, and had so many loyal followers at his beck and call.
And besides that, a dark corner of her mind couldn't help but wonder: what use was there in fighting him, when he had already won the war?
Anya resisted the urge to sigh, closing her eyes for a brief moment as she reflected on Gino's question. Why now, indeed. They could have used C.C.'s help a year ago, when this all started. Before Norland's conquests, before the millions of deaths, before every awful thing that had fallen in the wake of the Tokyo Bombings. If they had had C.C.'s help from the beginning, perhaps she and Gino would not be in such dire straits now.
Drawn into a melancholic mood, Anya couldn't help but reflect on all that had gone wrong. The Black Knights, utterly destroyed; Empress Nunnally and the UFN leadership dead; Japan conquered once again, with the rest of the world soon to follow; massive deployments of new FLEJA warheads. Millions had died at this point, their bones paving the way for Norland's new Britannia. So many friends had died, and the hope for a new world had shattered, only in the span of a year.
Or perhaps it'd be better to date the start of her troubles to two years ago, at this point? With all that had happened, it was hard to remember that the two year anniversary of the Zero Requiem had only passed recently, alongside the one year anniversary of the Tokyo Bombings. In fact, a part of her couldn't help but think that Lelouch had his own share of the blame for the current, sorry state of the world. Surely Lelouch could have seen someone like Norland coming? Then again, the Knight of Five had taken Prince Schneizel by complete surprise as well, and Schneizel had been the only person alive who was Lelouch's equal. Still, the Demon Emperor had been one of the only men in this world to make consistent miracles, and even snatch glorious victory from the jaws of disastrous defeat. Who's to say he couldn't have turned things around with Norland, then?
A pity his magnum opus had seen him dead: his macabre suicide masqueraded as a righteous sacrifice designed to bring about world peace. Such a hopeful dream, that had been. But Anya had lived long enough now to see that peaceful dream turned into a dreadful nightmare.
Still, she could only say that with the benefit of hindsight. Back at the start, things had seemed so hopeful and promising.
The oppressed masses had rejoiced at Lelouch's demise, while the new Zero had become a rallying symbol of hope all over the world. The UFN, meanwhile, had been all too eager to welcome the peaceful and kind Nunnally vi Britannia as the new sovereign of Britannia, her power cemented by the support of the cunning Prince Schneizel. An unprecedented era of prosperity and tranquility had followed all of this, as the world settled down into a bright new future. All of this had then culminated in a series of peace talks in Tokyo, set one year after the Demon Emperor's Death.
Anya had been one of many who had watched the proceedings on television, eager to witness this historic event. The final fate of the Holy Britannian Empire, soon to be the Britannian Republic, would be decided by these negotiations, among other issues. So she had watched with an earnest smile on her face as the world marched to a new beat, finally on the path toward a bloodless peace.
She had also watched as a series of Sakuradite bombs obliterated the conference, and wiped out half of Tokyo in the process.
And just like that, the endless cycle of war, peace, and revolution had resumed its bloody waltz.
"We're almost there," Gino whispered to her, bringing Anya back to the present.
She shook her head slightly, focusing back on her were approaching the main gates to the encampment now, where Anya could see a group of four soldiers guarding the entrance.
As she and Gino approached the guards snapped to attention, with two of them breaking off from the group to approach them. As they came, Gino spoke up from behind her.
"I caught this one spying on the base over by the hills," he said, striking Anya with the butt of his firearm. "Tried to run away as soon as I approached her."
Anya stumbled forward with a hiss, pretending that the blow had hurt her more than it actually had. She kept her eyes downcast, pretending not to watch the approaching guards. However distasteful it was to play the part of the meek, cowed woman, Anya had found that it had its advantages. And she needed every advantage she could get, these days.
One of the nameless, helmeted soldiers gave a grunt and reached over to her, lifting her face up as he harshly grabbed her chin. Anya stared up at him, doing her best to smother any spark of ire in her gaze.
"You're an awful long way from Sargent's Purchase," the soldier gruffly stated, referencing the town nearest to them. "Pretty young, too. Can't be any older than, what, fifteen? Hmph. So girl, what's your name?"
"Seventeen," Anya mumbled, feeling a flash of anger. She smothered it just as quickly as it lit inside of her, berating herself for breaking character.
Whether it was because of malnutrition or just poor genetics, her body hadn't grown or developed all that much since she'd retired as the Knight of Six, much to her chagrin. It was a minor issue, to be sure, but one that still irritated her when she let herself think about it.
She cleared her throat, adding, "I'm seventeen years old, sir, and my name is Anna."
"Anna," the soldier murmured, inspecting her face some more. "And just what are you doing here, Anna?"
Anya looked away from him, keeping quiet even as her body tensed up. She'd never been a woman of faith, but in that moment Anya prayed to any deity that was listening that their harebrained infiltration scheme would work.
"She wouldn't give me any answers either," Gino commented, after a moment's silence. "Just her name. Didn't talk even after I roughed her up a little. So, I thought that a little while in the brig might help loosen her tongue."
The guard gave a noncommittal grunt, letting go of her chin a moment later. He stared at Gino next, focusing on the ID Badge pinned to Gino's uniform. "Private Dieter, is it? Didn't you have a partner go out with you? Command insisted we always travel in pairs for patrols."
Anya's fists curled ever so slightly, her body tensing again as she prepared herself for violence. Still, Gino had a ready response to the expected question.
"Private Nikolai stayed behind to look around a little more, actually. Wanted to make sure this girl didn't have any friends that we may have missed," he claimed.
In retrospect, Anya wished that she could have taken the other soldier's uniform for her own use, rather than playing the part of the prisoner. She hadn't quite met his height, but she thought she could have made it work. Alas, the front of his vest had been drenched with blood, and so the uniform had been unsalvageable.
Perhaps she should have chosen a cleaner method of death than multiple puncture wounds to the chest and neck: but how else was Anya to work out her anger, if not through aggressive stabbing? She didn't have Gino's strength, which meant she couldn't copy his preferred method of crushing a person's windpipe.
Their impromptu interrogator gave another grunt, studying Gino for a second before he gave a small nod. He murmured for Gino to go on in, he and his comrade falling in line with them as they escorted Anya inside of the camp.
Gino let the two gate guards take point, walking behind Anya while they marched just ahead. That made it easy enough to follow them to the makeshift prison for the base. Though as they walked along, Anya kept her ears trained for errant whispers and loud boasts, always good sources for intel.
In the end, she did get some valuable knowledge from her eavesdropping. But perhaps she had been better off not knowing what she'd heard.
"…Sounds like the Occupation of Area Forty-One is going to hell. I heard from my cousin, who is serving at this old prison there, that the Forty-Ones are putting up a real fight against Sir Kirkwayne's garrison. Guess they really must have loved that goddess-queen they had before we turned Gralbahd to dust…"
"…Looks like Princess Cornelia's execution is scheduled for a month from now, according to the latest updates. Still don't understand how one of Britannia's greatest stooped so low as to become the leader of the Black Knights. She really shoulda taken Norland's offer of clemency after Emperor Callis was crowned…"
"…Heard they finally took down the Red Queen herself! No, seriously, I have a friend who was in that battle over Mumbai. Word is that Kouzuki took down a third of Sir Sabathra's forces, and she even critically injured Sir Sabathra herself. But that damned luck of hers didn't last forever: the Guren had to run out of energy sooner or later, after all. Heh, wish I was one of the lucky bastards that dragged Kouzuki out of her cockpit. Bet they had a lot of fun with her before they killed her…"
Anya came to a sudden stop at that last remark, her eyes snapping toward where she'd heard that news. Her eyes locked onto a group of laughing soldiers, righteous fury burning in her eyes as she glared daggers at them. Her fists shook from her anger, and she mentally prepared herself to slip her cuffs off and reach for the gun hidden under her coat.
Gino's firm hand on her shoulder kept her still, however.
"Don't," he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Anya trembled with fury, her eyes still latched onto the men nearby. "Gino, they—!"
"I know," Gino replied, a hint of rage present in his tone. "I know. But we can't. We have to get to the Thought Elevator, Anya. That's all that matters."
Anya hated him, and hated even more that he was right. She clenched her jaw tightly, doing her best to contain herself even as her every instinct screamed at her to get her gun and start shooting every last one of these bastards.
She managed to restrain herself in the end, though it was a close call. She started moving shortly thereafter, Gino acting as if he'd jostled her back into motion as he pressed his gun into her back. The two of them continued to follow after the gate guards, Anya doing her best to shut out any other idle gossip before it reached her ears.
As they walked, Anya did her best to recall the plan, working their poorly forged strategy over in her head to make sure there wasn't anything she was forgetting.
From here the goal was that, after Anya was placed in a cell, Gino would wander somewhere else in the camp and create some sort of distraction, before breaking her out so they could make a run for the Thought Elevator. It was an inelegant operation, to be sure, but it was the best that they had. Neither she nor Gino were geniuses like Lelouch or Schneizel: they couldn't just come up with the perfect infiltration plan with multiple contingencies, especially with the limited resources they had.
Still, as the gate guards led them to what looked like the command center of the camp, and not the camp's stockade, Anya had a sinking feeling that their harebrained scheme was about to go sideways.
They were escorted into the command tent in quick order, the place just as makeshift as the rest of the encampment seemed to be. Temporary furniture, newly assembled equipment, and so on. Though Anya quickly found her attention stolen away from the tent's interior, as she saw just who sat behind the commander's desk.
The gray-haired and haughty visage of Christoph Scissorman, Norland's second-in-command, stared back at her.
Anya hoped desperately that he would not recognize her: it had been years since she had last seen Norland's adjutant in person, and he would have only gotten a brief look at her. Not to mention there was all the effort she'd put into disguising her distinctive looks.
Alas, the cruel smile that spread over Scissorman's lips killed that possibility in the cradle.
"Ah, Sir Anya Alstreim, the Knight of Six herself! My my, how kind of you to join us here," he sneered. He barked a harsh laugh, adding, "It looks like Sir Merte has lost our little bet. He was oh so sure you were going to the Thought Elevator in the Caribbean. I'm so pleased to see that my supposition was correct instead. Oh, he's not going to be happy about this."
Christoph let out a dark chuckle, leaning back in his chair as he fully took her in. Anya matched his stare with a dispassionate one of her own, not willing to let him see the hint of fury that boiled within her.
Then Christoph's eyes switched over to Gino next, and in that moment, Anya just knew that their ruse had been seen through to its very core.
"Come now, Sir Weinberg, there's no need to keep that cumbersome helmet on," Christoph declared, waving airily at him. "Do take it off. I'd like to get a good look at you."
Gino's stolen rifle was aimed at Scissorman in an instant, and Anya followed his lead, discarding her cuffs and withdrawing her own pistol with lightning fast reflexes. But the cocking of rifles from the guardsmen already in the tent stopped her and Gino from firing on the camp's commander.
A tense silence filled the air, the impromptu standoff sending anticipatory shivers down Anya's spine. She switched her gaze back and forth from Christoph to the armed guards, trying to keep both in her sight for as long as she could.
Gino, meanwhile, reached up slowly with a free hand, taking off his helmet a moment later before gingerly dropping it to the floor. Now unburdened by his mask, he gave their would be captor a grim smile.
"Well, Christoph, I'd ask how you knew we were coming, but I feel like that's a pointless question. You're going to tell us anyway, aren't you?" Gino asked after a moment, giving a wry chuckle. "Men like you always seem unable to resist a good gloat during your moments of triumph."
"Hm, buying time, are we? Ah, but you do know me so well, Sir Weinberg. If you're truly that curious, then how could I not indulge myself?" Christoph tittered, his voice oozing smug satisfaction.
"You see, we have eyes and ears everywhere these days. We intercepted C.C.'s message to you, and planned this scenario accordingly. And low and behold, it worked out splendidly! Sir Alstreim is now the perfect bait to draw out that immortal witch. Our study of Geass cannot proceed without a Code Bearer such as her, so…"
Anya tuned out the rest of his words, letting the man pontificate to his heart's content. She instead focused on potential strategies, as she tried to figure a way out of this bleak scenario. Alongside the gate guards, there were two more soldiers in the tent, making for a total of five enemies altogether, counting Christoph. Of course, that failed to take into account the rest of the military camp, which would spring into action the moment anything went off here.
Though they'd need to overcome the set of guns pointed at them right now, which was easier said than done. Any wrong twitch, any errant movement, and she and Gino both would be pumped full of lead. If they surrendered, perhaps they might have a chance at escape later on…but Anya wasn't hopeful of their chances. Christoph would keep them on a tight leash, and Anya couldn't afford letting him use her as bait to lure C.C. out of hiding.
So what were they going to do?
As Anya fretted over their plan, her eyes glanced over at Gino. She was startled to see him staring back at her, a serene smile on his face. The sight of it filled her with a cold dread, Anya just knowing that he was about to do something tremendously stupid, even if she did not know the specifics. She desperately shook her head, but Gino wasn't paying attention now.
Instead, he casually moved his free hand into one of the pockets of his flak jacket. A moment later, something slipped out of the pocket, and a small pin clattered to the floor.
Christoph caught the flash of light that sparkled from it as it fell, cutting his tirade off. He stared at the object for a second, his eyes widening in shock: and at that exact moment, Gino casually pulled a grenade from his jacket.
The pin was already pulled, and only Gino's hand pressing against the safety handle kept the thing from going off then and there.
"Sorry, Christoph. No can do with your plan. But I have a counter-offer, if you're willing to listen," Gino declared, his tone light and impish.
Christoph tensed in his chair, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he stared at the grenade. The soldiers behind them likewise tensed, though no one made any moves to subdue Gino now: not when doing so would ensure their demise.
"A clever bluff, Sir Weinberg. I do commend you," he said at last, a semblance of calm coming back over his features. "But it is a bluff, all the same. You and Anya are close…there's no way you'd risk letting her die with you."
"Who says I wouldn't?" Gino breezily asked, as if he were just talking about the weather. "Anya and I, we don't have a lot left to live for, you know. Norland made sure of that. Besides, I know what you'll do to her in captivity. I think it might be more of a mercy to let Anya die with me, untouched, rather than letting your men take her."
A grimace twitched over Christoph's face, before a hint of fury washed over his features. He studied Gino with a sharpened gaze, saying, "I suppose you want free passage to the Thought Elevator in exchange for not letting that grenade go off, then?"
"That sounds like a good start," Gino agreed, giving a cheery nod. He matched Christoph's stare with a calculating look of his own. "Though I doubt you'd let us go so easily."
He then gave a savage smile, and tossed the grenade at Christoph.
The soldiers behind them gasped and dove out of the tent, trying to escape the blast; Anya herself tensed up, closing her eyes as she readied for the explosion; Christoph gave a strangled yelp, moving to hide under his desk in a futile attempt to shield himself.
Then a few tense seconds of silence passed where nothing happened.
Anya tentatively opened her eyes, confirming to herself that she was still alive. For a brief, brilliant moment, her heart soared with relief, and she thought Gino must have used their broken explosive to get the other soldiers out of here, and give them a chance to escape.
But then she saw the grim, determined look on Gino's face, and her heart sank again.
"Eh?" Scissorman raised his head up from where he sat, eyeing the still-shaking grenade that had rolled onto his desk. "It's…a dud?"
He blinked rapidly, a disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips. A darkened look crossed his features and he snarled, "Well, Sir Weinberg, it seems your luck has run out."
"Yes," Gino agreed softly. "It has."
Then he pulled a second grenade from his pocket, before turning his gaze onto her. "They won't be distracted long. Run, Anya!"
Anya barely had time to register his words before he pulled the pin from his other explosive, and jumped to tackle Christoph. A flash of anguish erupted over her face, but she had no other choice but to do as Gino said. She turned and ran, dashing out of the tent and past the group of stunned soldiers just outside.
Seconds later a loud explosion rang out, and the entire command tent erupted into flames.
A screeching alarm was set off moments later, and the entire camp moved into action, several units of soldiers converging on the site of the explosion. Anya ignored all that, however, focused as she was on making a break for the Thought Elevator. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she persistently blinked them out, trying to shove all of her emotions deep inside where they couldn't bother her.
She reached the entrance to the cave moments later, where the squad of alerted soldiers were. One raised his rifle to shoot at her, but Anya was faster on the draw, whipping out her pistol and firing off a series of shots. She managed to hit all four of them, though she wasted no time confirming if her shots had killed any of them.
Instead she ran past the collapsed gunmen, past the barricades and machine gun nest, and dashed inside of the cave.
She continued to run, triggering a series of motion-activated lights over the roof of the cave system. She let them illuminate her path, until at last she came to the gargantuan doors of the Thought Elevator. A series of arcane symbols marked the solid surface of the structure, with the V-shaped sigil of Geass the most prominent feature there.
Anya came to a stop in front of the door, catching her breath for a moment. Then, with a determined look upon her face, she pressed her hand against the smooth, polished stone of the Thought Elevator.
Nothing happened.
Anya waited a moment, double checking her surroundings to make sure nothing had changed. Then she pressed her hand more firmly against the structure, and scowled when it still refused to work for her.
Wasn't this how it was supposed to work?
She had more than a few memories of Marianne doing this exact action to get into C's World, though her consciousness had never followed that body-hopping witch into that ethereal realm. So Anya didn't know what she was doing wrong. Was it because she lacked a Geass? Or was it because she didn't have something vital, something that had let Marianne slip into the Thought Elevator but not her?
Whatever was wrong, she didn't have long to figure it out. It would only be a matter of time until the soldiers of the camp followed her inside here.
Giving a frustrated growl, Anya slammed her fist against the firm stone. "C.C.! I'm here, just like you said! So…so let me in, already! I can't come in on my own, damn it! Open it up!"
Pure silence met her declaration.
Anya felt the telltale sensation of tears returning to her eyes, and she stubbornly wiped them away. Her face still fixed into a snarl, she raised her fist again—
Then, the symbols carved into the stone glowed a brilliant crimson, and ethereal tendrils reached out to grab her. Her entire world exploded into a brilliant white light, and Anya Alstreim knew no more.
It felt as if Anya was falling, hurling through a white abyss as her body scrambled for purchase. A series of images rapidly flashed before her eyes, with the most prominent being a seemingly endless crowd of people dressed in strange white robes and covered with ancient jewelry, all bearing the sigils of Geass on their foreheads. Then, as if bursting through to the surface of this void, Anya abruptly found herself on stable ground.
Anya stumbled, almost losing her footing as she recovered from that disturbing sensation. Then she started looking around wildly, taking stock of herself and her new surroundings.
She was definitely no longer in New Hampshire, that was for sure. She seemed to be in some gigantic library now, rows upon rows of stacked books surrounding her. With a furrowed brow, Anya looked through the literary sea that encompassed her, searching for an exit, or some hint at where she was meant to go—
Then, suddenly, C.C. herself stood before Anya.
"Good," the immortal witch said, a faint smile etched onto her lips. "You came."
Anya froze for a moment, her eyes widening at the woman before her. C.C. hadn't aged a day since she'd last seen her, though that surprised her little, given what she knew of the impossibly older woman. She still had that same long, vibrant green hair and golden eyes, while her body was still clad in the straitjacket-esque outfit that Anya had last seen her in.
She said nothing in response to C.C.'s declaration, her mouth set into a firm line as she stared hard at her.
"I apologize for the inconvenience," C.C. went on, not acknowledging her silence. "No doubt it was a hard struggle for you to get here, and for that, you have my sympathies. Coming to get you myself would have been far too risky for the both of us, however. As it was, I could only rely on passing a message to my few remaining contacts in the Black Knights, and hope for the best."
"Gino is dead because of you," Anya found herself saying, her tone harsh and clipped. "I hope…I hope that whatever this is, is worth it."
C.C.'s face morphed into an expression of sympathy, causing an even larger flare of anger to surge through Anya. She managed to hold her temper, however, and instead crossed her arms as she glared daggers at the other girl.
"Your message said you needed my help. That only I could help you turn the tables on Norland," Anya said, trying to keep her voice level and devoid of emotion. "So what is it, then? Do you plan on giving me a Geass?"
C.C. stared at her for a moment, before turning around. She started to walk away, and after a belated pause Anya followed after her.
"I was there that day," C.C. spoke softly, her tone melancholic and compelling. "I suppose I wanted to see Lelouch's dream come true for myself. I tried my best to hide and stay in the background, but Nunnally found me all the same. She wanted to sit down and talk with me, to ask me about her brother. However I felt no obligation to indulge her, so I declined, and slipped back into the shadows. She, and everyone else at that conference, died in those bombings the next day."
C.C. let out a heavy, forlorn sigh. "I wonder now if I couldn't have prevented it. Perhaps I would have sensed something wrong, that no one else could have. Or perhaps I'd simply have died alongside everyone else, though I would have lived all the same. Who can say? Such a thing is beyond my own power."
Anya frowned, picking up on her emphasis. After a few seconds of internal debate she said, "You still haven't answered my question. Am I here so you can grant me a Geass, C.C.? Is that your plan to stop Norland?"
C.C. shook her head in denial, however. "There is no stopping him, for he has already won. You know that as much as I do."
Anya froze, feeling as if she'd just been slammed into a brick wall. Her hands curled into fists, and once more she felt a dark rage boiling deep within her.
Gino had voiced a similar opinion earlier, even if he hadn't said the quiet part out loud. Anya herself knew that things were far too gone to reverse, as awful as it was. The Black Knights were utterly decimated, with only a handful of scattered cells left; the UFN was dead, its constituent nations conquered or in the process of being subjugated; and internal dissension against Norland was utterly crushed by cadre of loyalists, all of whom were eager to restore the Britannian Empire to its former glory. The war against Norland was over, whether his enemies acknowledged it or not.
And even if there was a hope for reversal, even if she could stop Norland now, what life would be left for her afterward? Jeremiah was dead, Sayoko was dead, Kallen was dead, Suzaku was dead, and now Gino was gone as well.
The family she had made for herself was ash in the wind, and Anya had a feeling that no matter what happened next, she would be joining them soon.
But however much C.C.'s declaration was fact, the callousness of it enraged her all the same. She opened her mouth to speak, to snarl a bevy of insults at the immortal witch in front of her—
"But," C.C. continued, cutting her retort short. "That does not mean we cannot reverse what he has done."
Anya shut her mouth with an audible click, blinking rapidly as she tried to decipher C.C.'s words. When she spoke again, it was in a much softer, yet still cautious, tone. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?"
She was given no immediate answer, however. Instead, C.C. continued on, acting as if she hadn't spoken.
"Geass is a curious thing. It rarely manifests the same way among those who take the Power of the King, for it always responds to the desires of one's heart. Lelouch desired to control the world around him, after being betrayed and cast aside by his unrelenting, merciless father and the empire that followed him: so he was granted the Power of Absolute Obedience. Charles wished to tear apart all lies and create a world of truth for himself and his brother, and so gained the power to peer into the heart of mankind, and rewrite their very beings by reshaping memories and personalities to his will. Mao, an old partner of mine, wanted nothing more than a greater connection to humanity, to better understand the masses that had ignored him for most of his childhood, and came to regret it once he gained the power to read minds. Geass responded to the inner desires of all these men, granting them what they wished, but often at a steep cost. A careless command cost Lelouch a beloved sister and spiraled into the massacre of countless innocents and the deaths of many more of his loved ones; Charles grew to see himself as as the sole arbiter of Truth and blinded himself to all realities but the one he desired; and Mao was driven into insanity because of his unbroken peek into the hidden thoughts of Humanity.
"Which brings me to my question: what do you desire, Anya? And how would a Geass manifest for you?"
Anya frowned at her words, trying her best to ignore the uneasy feeling that spread through her body. She opened her mouth to speak, but C.C. cut her off.
"Your life has been defined by a lack of agency, hasn't it? Since you were a young girl, barely any older than seven, your very existence has been manipulated and controlled by others. Marianne and Charles steered you consistently down the path they desired, and any hint of rebellion would have been ruthlessly squashed," she said, her tone far more casual than Anya would have liked.
"You don't have to remind me about my own past," she sharply rebuked, a hint of steel in her voice.
She didn't like thinking about it on the best of days, so having it brought up like this rankled her. Though Jeremiah's Geass Canceller had given Anya her memories and sense of identity back, it could do nothing to bring back what had already been stolen from her. Marianne had controlled her body like a puppet for the majority of her life, and to this day she could still feel its after-effects.
Thanks to Marianne, Anya had been steadily losing grasp of her identity for her entire life. It had been a loss fueled by frequent blackouts and fragmented memories, winding up in places she had no recollection of going to, or doing things she didn't remember signing up for. Indeed, Anya could hardly remember a time where she hadn't been plagued by Marianne's machinations. So many years of her life, left twisted and ruined by Marianne's determination to turn her into the perfect proxy.
"I never wanted to be a soldier," Anya admitted softly, most of her ire leaving her. She felt it drained away by the ghosts of her past, the shadow of Marianne vi Britannia looming large over her even now.
"Even when I was offered a scholarship by the royal family into the military academy at Pendragon, I intended to decline the offer. But what I wanted didn't matter. Marianne wanted a strong body again, and so she decided to take action on her own. Before that, I'd had the occasional blackout, but it was only an hour or two at time. It scared me, sure, but I thought it was something I could handle. Then I lost two entire days of my life, and when I woke up, I found that not only was I now enrolled in the academy, I'd signed an agreement making me a ward of the Emperor himself. I was just nine years old when that happened, and…so unbelievably frightened. No one would believe me when I said I didn't remember doing any of this. I grew so desperate that I even tried to run away. I packed everything I had and took one step out of my dorm room…at which point I blacked out. I woke back up in my bed hours later, with all of my things put back in place, as if nothing had happened. I…I stopped fighting back against it, at that point."
C.C. gave a small nod, and turned back to face her. In a kindler, more gentle tone she said, "As I said, Marianne never gave you a choice. She held firm control over your entire life, even if you didn't know it at the time. And because of her, you lost so many precious years; so much time."
Anya sighed, seeing no point in denying those words. Not when C.C. was speaking the truth.
In those early years, she had sought out answers desperately—when her mysterious condition didn't outright fight against her over it. The few medical professionals she had seen had never found anything abnormal in their examinations of her brain, and Britannian psychiatry was a field so underfunded and so societally scorned that she would have been better off seeking a cure from a witch doctor. Her best solution had been to obsessively document every facet of her life, recording everything she could conceive of, but that in no way mitigated her blackouts. That, of course, became more of a concern upon being elevated to the Knights of the Rounds. After that, her mysterious blackouts and gaps in memory had grown much more frequent and much more severe.
And she hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it. That, more than anything, frustrated her most. Her lack of power, her helplessness, her inability to act: she'd been fighting against an enemy she hadn't even known existed. Not until after Marianne had already left her body, and Jeremiah had returned her sense of self back to her.
In the end, she had never stood a chance. All those years of silent rage, all the sleepless nights where she wondered what she could do, what new method of attack she could employ. None of it had mattered.
"But what if you could take that time back, Anya Alstreim?"
Anya jolted out of her dark reveries, startled by C.C.'s question. She looked up sharply at her, ready to tear into her for her poor taste in humor.
But the deadly serious look upon C.C.'s face stopped her short. The immortal's hair parted, and the sigil of Geass etched into her forehead flared with light.
"The Power of the King is capable of many things, things deemed impossible. And that would include the reversal of time," she stated.
For the first time in over a year, Anya felt an ember of hope reignite inside of her.
She swallowed nervously, finding her mouth dry and her tongue tied all of a sudden. After a hesitant pause, she managed to muster her words together. "You're…suggesting, what, time travel? Geass can do something like that?"
C.C. gave her no immediate answer, and instead took to circling around Anya, studying her with a detached, scientific curiosity.
"Ever since Nunnally died, I've been searching for a way to change things: to revive the dream that Lelouch died for. It is too late to salvage it now, but…with the power of Geass, the damage can be undone. For a time, I considered who might best embody such a power, who might embody the desire to snatch back their stolen time. And I believe you, above all others, personify that desire," C.C. declared. "Though your life may have been cursed by the specter of Marianne, it may yet give us the chance to take back what has been lost."
Anya felt a chill go down her spine. She studied the golden-eyed witch for a long moment, contemplating her words seriously. Then, she gave a decisive nod and gestured for her to keep speaking.
C.C. inclined her head toward her and said, "The Power of the King bestows great wonders upon those who take its mantle, yet at the same time it can become a terrible burden. It gave Lelouch great hardship and grief, to say nothing of the other partners I've had over the centuries. In all likelihood, you too will come to curse your contract, Anya Alstreim. Knowing all this, do you understand? Are you still open to accepting the Power of the King?"
Anya pressed her lips into a thin line, acknowledging her words with a brief shake of her head. "I understand. And I don't care. I have nothing left to live for, now. Whatever burdens Geass may bestow upon me, I will gladly bear them. Especially if Geass can help me travel back and stop all of this from happening in the first place. So yes…I will accept your contract."
C.C. came to a stop just in front of her, her eyes narrowed as she took in her determined expression. Then, a smile graced her lips as she said,
"Then we may yet have a chance."
Anya felt a flood of relief surge through her, and she let a smile of her own rest upon her face.
"There are some things I need to make clear, of course," C.C. moved on, taking a few steps back. "There is the possibility that my supposition here is flawed, or your power may manifest in a way we cannot predict. It may be possible you will not develop a Geass at all: not every contract succeeds. Furthermore, if our plan is to work, then you and I will need to have a talk. There are threats you need to be made aware of, that you weren't privy to before. And—!"
C.C. abruptly cut herself off, and her eyes widened in alarm. At that same moment Anya felt a preternatural flash of warning, but she could do nothing to act on it. For by the time she registered that warning, a deep, baritone voice was whispering into her ear.
"I thank you for your services here, Anya Alstreim. Unfortunately, they are no longer required."
She turned her head, eyes widening in disbelief as an all too familiar black and gold mask stared back at her. Then Anya felt an explosion of pain erupt in her chest, a deep agony unlike anything she'd felt before radiating through her body.
Anya stared down at the source of her pain, and to her horror, she saw the tip of a blade sticking out from the center of her torso.
"My reign is inevitable," Norland von Lunebelg went on, his voice as icy and cold as the depths of winter. "And there is no salvation from it."
Norland then pulled his sword out, and Anya felt her legs give out from under her. She collapsed to the floor, the intensity of her pain preventing her from even crying out. Meanwhile, a river of crimson was already pouring out from her open wound, staining Anya's clothes a dark red.
"No!" C.C.'s anguished tone echoed through the room, and she dashed toward her.
Norland was already prepared, however. With another swipe of his blade, he cut C.C.'s throat, sending her sprawling. She choked on her blood, the crimson liquid moving to mingle with Anya's own as they both laid there, dying.
Norland said something else as he sheathed his blade, but Anya couldn't hear it. The deep, unrelenting pain from her chest was already starting to fade, replaced by an all encompassing coldness that she knew would soon consume her. Her vision started to darken, her eyes unable to focus on anything as she laid there.
"I don't want to die," the desperate, horrified thought echoed through her fading mind. "I don't want it to end like this. Please…"
But her pleas went unanswered. Anya felt more of her lifeblood flow from her wound, coating her body as if it were a second layer of clothing. Her vision continued to dim, while her consciousness slowly faded away. Whatever hopes and ambitions C.C. had had for them, would now die with her.
Then, Anya felt something graze her fingertips, and her hazy vision suddenly made out the visage of C.C., the witch having crawled in front of her.
"Accept my contract, Anya Alstreim," the immortal's voice rang clearly through her head, bringing a spark of life back into her. "Accept my conditions. Save Lelouch; save the world; save yourself."
"I…" Anya found just enough strength to speak, the words stumbling upon her numb tongue. "I accept."
C.C.'s hand was yanked away from her seconds later, Norland dragging her away with a snarl. But it was too late.
An explosion of Power surged through her, centering upon her left eye. Before she faded entirely, Anya seized upon that Power, and the sigil of Geass flashed over her pupil.
The world froze, before the sounds of a ticking clock echoed loudly through Anya's head. In the next instant, Anya witnessed a flash of light, and suddenly found herself on her feet again.
Anya's eyes widened in shock, almost stumbling as she adjusted to the sudden reversal of her fortunes. Her eyes flashed down to her chest, but no sign of her previous injury could be seen.
Meanwhile, C.C. stood just a few feet from her, speaking an all too familiar warning.
"—Or your power may manifest in a way we cannot predict. It may be possible you will not develop a Geass at all: not every contract succeeds. Furthermore, if our plan is to work, then you and I will need to have a talk. There are threats you—!"
Acting on instinct, Anya rolled to the side. In that same moment, a sword thrust itself just where she had been, missing her by mere seconds.
The grim, masked visage of Norland von Lunebelg stood there, a slight frown tugging at his lips as he stared at where Anya now was.
"Norland?!" C.C. yelped in alarm, before dashing over to Anya's side. "You're here! How—!"
But she cut herself off, and instead gave Anya a second look. Her eyes grew wide with realization, as her gaze fixed upon Anya's left eye.
"Did you think yourself safe here, C.C.? There is nowhere I cannot follow you," Norland declared, brandishing his blade at them. "There is nowhere in this world that you can find refuge. All of the Thought Elevators are under close watch by my men, so even escape from this realm will not grant you safety. Surrender now, immortal, and I may yet let Anya Alstreim live."
Anya bared her teeth into a snarl, her entire body tensing as she prepared herself to fight. Before she could lunge at Norland, however, C.C. grabbed tightly onto her shoulders.
"We cannot fight him. He will kill you!" she hissed.
Anya flashed her an irritated glare, but said nothing to contradict her assessment. "Then we can escape, flee somewhere else. If we act quickly enough, we can—!"
"If he is telling the truth about having the Thought Elevators under lock and key, then our chances at escape are slim," C.C. denied with a shake of her head. "Besides, my plan can only work in C's World. If we leave here, there's no telling if we'll ever be able to come back."
She then grit her teeth, and squared her shoulders as she stared Norland down. The masked dictator started to advance toward them at that same moment, abandoning all pretense of letting them surrender.
C.C. breathed in deep, and gave Anya's shoulders a firm squeeze. Speaking as if her life depended on it, she hurriedly said, "C's World is the god of this reality: the collective unconscious of all of humanity, the will of mankind itself. That means that it is amenable to the power of Geass, and that a request to it can save everything. And you and I know well that mankind does not wish to live in Norland's world, not with the blood it has been built upon. So stare upon the face of god, Anya, and use your power before it's too late!"
Then, with a shout of defiance, the immortal witch rushed at Norland, tackling him and sending them both to the floor before he could react.
Anya had little time to take that in before the world around her changed. The endless library shifted into a wide arena, while the sky above her was replaced by a planetary body eerily reminiscent of Jupiter. Anya felt her gaze drawn to it, a chill running down her spine.
The vestiges of a long dead prince echoed through her, and Anya suddenly knew what to say. The power of Geass lit up within her left eye, and Anya cried out,
"God! The collective unconscious! Please, send me back, and reverse the march of time! I want, no, I need a new tomorrow!"
A chorus of unearthly moans met Anya's declaration, and after a heart-stopping moment, the sigil of Geass flashed over the surface of the Jupiter planetoid.
"You cannot!" Norland roared, throwing C.C. off of him.
He leapt to his feet in an instant, sword drawn as he bore upon Anya—
The entirety of C's World tilted, sending Norland and Anya both sprawling. The ground shook and trembled, an unearthly howl pierced through the air, and then a bright flash of light consumed all.
Anya then found herself falling through the void once again, her entire being torn asunder as flashes of light blinded her vision. She fell for what felt like an eternity, no end in sight for the new hell that had enveloped her—
And then it stopped, and Anya found herself on solid ground again.
This time she fell, collapsing to the floor in a heap. Anya gasped with panic, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to get her bearings.
She forced herself back up, looking around wildly for any sign of Norland: but she could not see any trace of him. Nor of C.C., for that matter. Instead, Anya found herself in an achingly familiar, stately room, filled with majestic furnishings.
Anya looked around in confusion, baffled at where she found herself. After a hesitant pause, she stumbled her way to what she distantly recognized as the bathroom. She hurried into the room, rushing to the sink before she came face to face with the mirror just above it.
And there, the stunned visage of her thirteen year old body stared right back at her.