Chapter 6: The Red Ribbon's Gambit
Red Ribbon Fortress
Steam hissed from ventilation shafts as Commander Red's boots echoed through corridors lined with reinforced titanium. Outside the towering windows, concrete training yards trembled under the weight of superhuman fists. Soldiers—their bodies enhanced beyond human limits—pulverized stone slabs with methodical precision. Each impact sent shockwaves rippling through the fortress walls.
Red paused mid-stride, his crimson cape settling around his shoulders. Behind his reflective visor, calculating eyes surveyed the display of raw power. The corner of his mouth twitched upward—a rare crack in his otherwise stone-cold demeanor.
"Magnificent," he whispered, watching a soldier's fist leave a crater three feet deep.
The air shifted behind him. No footsteps. No breath. Just the subtle displacement of shadows.
"Your stealth improves daily," Red said without turning. "But your presence still disturbs the air currents, Android 8."
From the darkness emerged a figure draped in pristine white—part man, part machine, his movements precise as clockwork. Steam leaked from hidden vents in his artificial limbs as he stepped into the pale light.
"Compliments will not soften what comes next, Commander," Android 8's voice carried no warmth, only mechanical certainty.
Red's reflection caught in the polished floor as he finally turned, cape billowing dramatically. "You question my timing."
"You've exposed the Red Ribbon Army to global scrutiny. Your own words haunt you: 'The day I reveal myself—'"
"'—is the day I declare war on this pathetic world.'" Red's voice dropped to a predatory growl. "Every syllable was calculated, Android 8. Every move is deliberate."
The android's optical sensors flickered, processing micro-expressions invisible to human eyes. "Elaborate."
Red's boots clicked against metal grating as he approached the window. Beyond the glass, Area 11's sprawling metropolis stretched toward the horizon—millions of lives unaware of the storm gathering above them.
"Zero. The Black Knight phenomenon." Red's gloved fingers drummed against the reinforced glass. "They represent chaos—unpredictable variables that Britannia cannot quantify or control. In them, I see the perfect catalyst."
His reflection smiled, the expression magnified and distorted in the curved surface. "Britannia's fall begins with Operation Iron Fist. And they will provide the spark I need."
Android 8 processed this information for exactly 0.3 seconds before nodding once—a gesture so subtle it barely registered. Then darkness swallowed him whole, leaving only the faint hiss of hydraulics.
Red remained motionless, watching his soldiers destroy everything in their path with mechanical efficiency. Outside, thunder rumbled across Area 11's steel sky.
Red Ribbon War Factory
The manufacturing complex roared like a mechanical beast feeding. Conveyor belts carried tons of reinforced armor plating while robotic arms assembled weapons systems with microsecond precision. Sparks cascaded from industrial welders as they fused titanium-alloy joints. At the center of this controlled chaos, a mechanical giant slowly took shape—part tank, part walking fortress, its bipedal design defying conventional warfare doctrine.
Dr. Gero hunched over holographic displays, his cybernetic eye casting blue light across technical schematics. Numbers and calculations streamed across multiple screens—power output, armor thickness, weapon calibrations. His flesh hand trembled slightly with age, but his mechanical fingers moved with inhuman precision.
Commander Red's approach sent ripples of tension through the assembly floor. Workers straightened, their enhanced muscles coiling beneath military fatigues. The air itself seemed to compress under the weight of his presence.
"Status report, Doctor," Red's voice cut through industrial noise like a blade through silk.
Gero's cybernetic eye whirred as it focused. "The Metal Gear Rex prototype exceeds all projections, Commander. Destro's weapon systems integrate flawlessly with our power core design." His organic eye gleamed with scientific fervor. "This machine doesn't just walk—it dominates terrain."
Red's gaze swept across the towering war machine. Its angular head resembled a mechanical skull, while massive rail guns protruded from heavily armored shoulders. Steam vented from cooling systems as internal mechanisms calibrated themselves with clockwork precision.
"Pilot synchronization?" Red inquired, his tone betraying nothing.
"Bonded exclusively to your neural patterns and biometric signature," Gero explained, gesturing toward a complex interface system. "Your enhanced reflexes, combined with the machine's sensor array, create perfect harmony between man and metal."
A sound escaped Red—not quite laughter, but something far more dangerous. "Excellent. My sister's intelligence network has pinpointed the Japanese Liberation Front's mountain stronghold. They demand Red Ribbon presence." His cape rustled as he gestured toward the mechanical giant. "This will serve as the perfect field test."
Movement caught his peripheral vision. Two figures stood at attention near a weapons rack—one checking equipment with obsessive precision, the other lounging against a support beam with calculated casualness. Both snapped to rigid attention as Red's shadow fell across them.
"Captain Blue and Major Metallitron," Red acknowledged with a slight nod.
"Sir!" they responded in perfect unison, fists striking their chests.
Red's visor reflected Captain Blue's scarred features. "You'll accompany me on this mission. Your explosives expertise will prove... illuminating." His head turned toward Major Metallitron, whose metallic implants gleamed under factory lighting. "However, your particular talents are needed elsewhere. I have a special assignment."
When Red leaned close enough for his words to carry only to Metallitron's enhanced hearing, confusion transformed into predatory anticipation across the cyborg's features.
"Now that sounds like my kind of party," Metallitron's voice carried mechanical undertones. "Consider it handled, Commander."
Red's tone dropped to sub-zero temperatures. "Ensure there are no witnesses."
Metallitron's salute was mocking, theatrical—then he dissolved into the maze of machinery and steam.
Red-faced Captain Blue, whose scarred hands checked explosive charges with ritualistic precision. "Prepare your team. War recognizes no schedule."
Narita Mountain Range
Ancient peaks clawed toward storm clouds while Britannian war machines carved paths through sacred forests. Princess Cornelia's mechanized column ground upward—Knightmare frames advancing in textbook formation, their footsteps leaving deep impressions in Japanese soil. Metal screamed against stone as massive treads pulverized thousand-year-old roots.
Deep within the Red Ribbon Army's mobile command center, holographic displays cast crimson light across Commander Red's reflective visor. Topographical data streamed across multiple screens while tactical overlays updated in real-time. His cape hung motionless in the recycled air as he studied enemy positions with predatory focus.
"Sir," a technician's voice carried nervous tension, "Cornelia's vanguard maintains steady progress. Estimated breach of JLF perimeter in twenty-seven minutes."
Red's fingers interlaced behind his back—a gesture that had preceded countless strategic victories. "Predictable. The Liberation Front lacks discipline, fire, and conviction. Even my lowest-ranked soldiers would mock this pathetic display." Steam vented from hidden mechanisms as his enhanced vision analyzed battlefield data. "They cower in caves like frightened animals."
Silence stretched across the command center. Personnel held their breath, recognizing the calm before Red's strategic storms.
Chaos shattered the quiet. A communications officer spun in his chair, eyes wide with shock.
"Commander! Massive geological disturbance! Half of Cornelia's advance force—buried under tons of rock and debris!"
Red's head snapped toward the tactical display. Britannian unit markers winked out in rapid succession, their signals crushed under artificial avalanche. His lips curved into something resembling a smile, but far more dangerous.
"Coincidence implies randomness," Red's voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried to every corner of the command center. "This demonstrates precision. Planning. Intelligence." His tone shifted into a growl that made veterans nervous. "Zero. The Black Knight variable has entered the equation."
The Commander's cape billowed as he turned toward his officers. When he spoke, his voice cut through steel and flesh with equal ease.
"Signal all units. Red Ribbon Army engages immediately. Show them what true power accomplishes."
"Sir, yes sir!"
The order propagated through communication networks like wildfire:
"All units, weapons free! Repeat—you are authorized to engage with extreme prejudice!"
Battlefield - Red Ribbon Assault
Hydraulic systems roared to life as dozens of enhanced war machines emerged from concealment. At the spearhead, Captain Blue's custom unit dominated the landscape—its frame modified with industrial-grade armor plating and a shoulder-mounted rocket array that resembled mechanical wings of death. His pilot mask reflected explosions as targeting systems locked onto enemy signatures.
"Understood, you beautiful bastards," Blue's voice carried through squad communications. "Light them up!"
The charge began. Earth trembled under enhanced footsteps while weapon systems primed themselves for slaughter. Above them, Japanese Liberation Front Knightmares opened fire from elevated positions—energy beams cutting through morning mist like deadly lightning.
But Blue was faster. His rocket array rotated with mechanical precision before unleashing synchronized devastation. One JLF unit vanished in a sphere of superheated plasma, its pilot's scream cut short by vaporization.
"Britannian dogs!" two enemy pilots shouted, redirecting their fire toward Blue's position.
His war machine moved like liquid death—sidestepping energy beams while returning fire painted the mountainside with destruction. Blue could have ended them personally, but tactical doctrine demanded efficiency over ego. From camouflaged positions, Red Ribbon units emerged with overwhelming firepower. Both JLF machines disintegrated under concentrated assault.
The battle spread like an infection. Red Ribbon forces used natural terrain to devastating advantage—enhanced soldiers providing covering fire while war machines flanked through dense forest. Explosions rippled across sacred grounds as metal clashed with metal. One enemy unit lost its weapon arm to precise fire, the dismembered limb continuing to spray bullets randomly, striking its own allies in friendly-fire chaos.
Captain Blue's soldiers exploited every weakness, pressing advantages with ruthless efficiency that spoke to months of brutal training.
Blue & Cornelia Convergence
Through smoke and burning wreckage, Blue's strike force encountered Cornelia's advancing formation. Her custom Gloucester stood defiant among the carnage, royal spear gleaming with reflected fire while her cape billowed in superheated air.
"Identify yourselves immediately!" Her command cut through battlefield noise like a blade.
Before Blue could respond, a desperate JLF unit charged their position. Blue's targeting system acquired the threat in microseconds—rocket pods swiveling with mechanical precision. The enemy war machine ceased to exist, reduced to scattered components and vapor.
Blue's speakers crackled with barely contained contempt. "Relax, Your Highness. We're just cleaning up your mess."
Cornelia's response carried aristocratic fury. "Red Ribbon scum..." The words dripped with disgust earned through countless encounters.
But survival demanded cooperation. More JLF forces descended from elevated positions like mechanical wolves. Cornelia's spear punched through cockpit armor with surgical precision while her guards carved bloody paths through enemy ranks. Red Ribbon units provided devastating support fire, their enhanced weapons systems turning mountainsides into killing fields.
Red Ribbon Command - Metal Gear Deployment
Commander Red dominated his command center, refusing the comfort of elevated positions. He moved among his officers like a predator studying prey, his cape creating dramatic shadows across tactical displays. Steam vented from hidden systems as he analyzed battlefield developments with inhuman focus.
"Deploy Epsilon Force to grid reference seven-seven-alpha," Red commanded, his finger indicating tactical opportunities invisible to ordinary minds. "They will remain concealed until the perfect moment—then strike like vipers."
"Acknowledged, Commander," his aide confirmed, fingers dancing across control surfaces.
"Sir!" another voice interrupted with urgent tension. "Unknown contacts approaching combat zone—four units, high-speed approach!"
Red's reflective visor turned toward the speaker. "Visual confirmation. Immediately."
The main display shifted to reveal four sleek war machines descending from cloud cover, each carrying traditional sword weapons that seemed archaic against modern firepower. But their movement patterns suggested anything but primitive tactics.
Red's lips curved into something that might have been appreciation. "The Four Holy Swords. Fascinating." Steam hissed from his collar as excitement built. "Relay tactical data to all units. I will join the engagement personally."
The command center fell silent. Officers exchanged nervous glances—Red's personal involvement always escalated situations beyond normal parameters.
His hand rose to activate personal communications. "Dr. Gero. Is the Metal Gear Rex operational?"
The response crackled with scientific pride: "All systems nominal, Commander. The machine awaits your neural interface."
The Battlefield - Metal Gear Rex Deployment
The deep forest had become a charnel house. Red Ribbon forces traded devastating fire with Liberation Front remnants while burning wreckage painted the landscape with smoke and flame. Enhanced soldiers coordinated with mechanical precision, but enemy desperation created unpredictable variables.
A Red Ribbon pilot screamed as energy fire punched through his cockpit armor. "Command, this is Tango-Seven—I'm hit! Systems failing!"
His wingman's response carried raw emotion: "Rodriguez! Hold on, buddy!"
But concentrated enemy fire reduced the damaged war machine to scrap metal and memories.
Two surviving Red Ribbon units found themselves encircled by advancing Liberation Front forces. Enemy weapons charged with deadly light as execution seemed certain.
Then the world exploded.
A lance of pure energy carved through mountain air, striking with surgical precision. Two enemy units simply ceased to exist—vaporized so completely that their destruction seemed almost clean. Shockwaves hurled debris across sacred ground while superheated air shimmered with deadly beauty.
"What in hell—?" a Liberation Front pilot managed before his own machine was bisected by invisible force.
Through smoke and fire, a mechanical titan stepped into view. Its design defied conventional warfare—bipedal stance suggesting impossible mobility while armor thickness promised invulnerability. Steam vented from cooling systems as internal mechanisms hummed with barely contained power. A massive rail gun dominated its right shoulder while sensor arrays swept the battlefield with predatory hunger.
Surviving Red Ribbon pilots gasped in recognition.
"Mother of God... the Metal Gear Rex!"
"Command actually finished it..."
The last Liberation Front pilot panicked, unleashing everything his weapons could deliver. Energy beams sparked harmlessly off advanced armor plating before the titan's response—a casual backhand that reduced the enemy war machine to twisted metal.
Metal Gear Rex drew its rail gun with deliberate menace. Commander Red's voice emerged from external speakers—calm, controlled, absolutely lethal.
"Field test parameters... exceeded."
"Sir!" the surviving Red Ribbon pilots rushed to flanking positions. "Awaiting orders!"
"Excellent." Red's tone suggested satisfaction with their survival. "Rendezvous with Captain Blue's formation. Support Princess Cornelia's advance."
"Understood! But Commander... what about you?"
Metal Gear Rex paused mid-stride. Its sensor array focused on them with mechanical precision while cooling systems vented steam that wreathed its form like mechanical breath.
"I have an appointment with four swordsmen."
Gulford's Last Stand
Combat had devolved into desperate survival. General Guilford's Gloucester deflected lightning-fast strikes from the Four Holy Swords—their traditional weapons somehow matching advanced Britannian technology through pure skill and determination. Sparks cascaded from blade contact while his squad fought for position on treacherous mountain terrain.
One sword slipped through his guard. A friendly unit split cleanly down the center, erupting in a fireball that shook the mountainside and sent burning debris raining down like mechanical snow.
The lead swordsman moved for the killing blow, blade raised to deliver final judgment, when thunder split the air. A massive shield slammed down between them, the impact sending shockwaves through bedrock while sparks painted the forest with deadly light.
Guilford's sensors registered the impossible.
"What... who..."
From behind the shield, a voice emerged—calm as winter death, carrying authority that made veteran soldiers nervous.
"I expected more from Cornelia's attack dog. Perhaps you require... assistance."
Recognition hit Guilford like physical force.
"Red..." he whispered, careful to keep the name from external speakers.
Metal Gear Rex raised its sensor array, focusing on the Four Holy Swords with predatory interest. "At last. We meet face to face, legendary samurai of this island nation." The rail gun powered up with ominous harmonics. "Before we begin, what your culture calls... honorable combat—identify the warrior brave enough to face the Red Ribbon Army's ultimate weapon."
The four paused. Shock rippled through their formation—this foreign commander understood their traditions.
One war machine stepped forward, sword held in ceremonial grip.
"I am Kyoshiro Tohdoh, leader of the Four Holy Swords. I accept your challenge!"
Both titans prepared to charge when a third unit dropped between them—its design carrying dual insignia: the Red Ribbon's crimson symbol and the ancient mark of the Arashikage clan.
Guilford's recognition systems flagged the impossible combination. "That symbol... it cannot be..."
Metal Gear Rex turned sharply. "Identify yourself. Why do you interfere with combat protocols?"
The pilot's voice carried mechanical precision touched with ancient honor.
"Forgive the interruption, Commander. But this engagement belongs to me."
Red's sensors confirmed the identification. "...Android 8."
The cyborg's war machine circled forward, twin energy blades igniting with deadly light. "Princess Cornelia engages a new battlefield commander. Without support, her survival probability decreases significantly."
Guilford's systems registered threat escalation. "What?!" He activated squad communications. "All units! The Princess faces immediate danger—move to support positions!" His formation thundered away, leaving Red and Android 8 facing the legendary swordsmen.
Metal Gear Rex's rail gun tracked across available targets. "Acceptable. But disable, don't destroy. I require functional trophies, not scrap metal."
Android 8's war machine executed a formal bow. "Acknowledged."
The Metal Gear launched skyward toward Cornelia's position, leaving Android 8 surrounded by four masters of ancient combat arts.
Tohdoh's voice carried generations of hatred. "...Arashikage clan."
Android 8's response dripped with mechanical contempt. "Kururugi's trained dogs."
"TRAITOR!" the female pilot screamed, charging with suicidal fury. Steel met energy in cascades of sparks while Android 8's enhanced reflexes calculated defensive patterns. His counter-kick sent her machine tumbling across broken ground.
The others attacked in perfect coordination—a whirlwind of traditional skill meeting advanced technology. Android 8's twin blades moved in defensive patterns while its enhanced processing calculated attack vectors with superhuman precision.
One quick rotation severed his opponent's limbs, leaving the pilot alive but helpless.
"Shogo!" Tohdoh's cry carried raw emotion.
Another attacker closed the distance. Android 8's blades flashed—precise cuts disabling weapons and mobility systems while sparing the cockpit.
"Ryoga!"
The third fell to similar tactics, disabled but breathing.
"Kosetsu!" Tohdoh's voice cracked with fury and grief.
Only Nagisa remained beside their leader. Tohdoh's tactical assessment demanded retreat. "Fall back!"
"No!" she protested. "Together we can—"
"Go, Nagisa." His tone softened with desperate affection. "He wants us to be functional. Save who you can."
Reluctantly, she withdrew to defensive positions.
Android 8 planted one blade in scorched earth, raising the other in formal combat stance. "Orders specify capture, not termination. But understand, Tohdoh—nothing would satisfy me more than your destruction."
Tohdoh's response thundered across the mountainside. "Unfortunately for you, Thomas Arashikage—surrender is not in my programming!"
The two war machines collided in a fury of traditional skill versus enhanced technology. Armor plates flew while sparks painted the forest floor. Finally, both pilots executed simultaneous strikes, impaling each other in mutual destruction. Systems sparked and died as both units froze in a deadly embrace.
The duel remained unfinished.
Commander Red vs. Guren
Metal Gear Rex landed with a ground-shaking impact on rocky terrain. Ahead, two war machines engaged in desperate combat—the pristine white Lancelot dancing with mechanical grace while a crimson machine, unlike anything in Red's tactical database, fought with fluid aggression.
Behind his visor, Red smiled with predatory anticipation.
The Metal Gear surged forward, shoulder-checking between the combatants. Its massive shield sent Lancelot tumbling backward while the rail gun tracked the crimson target.
"Stand down, Britannian unit. Zero represents your primary objective. This one..." his sensors locked onto the red machine, "belongs to the Red Ribbon Army."
Lancelot hesitated, then withdrew to a safe distance.
Now, only Red and the crimson machine remained on the battlefield.
Red's external speakers crackled to life. "Unknown model. Identify your designation."
The female pilot's response carried fierce pride. "The Guren Mark II. And your death machine?"
"Metal Gear Rex." The rail gun powered up with ominous harmonics. "Shall we determine superior engineering?"
"Bring it, you Red Ribbon bastard!"
They clashed like titans. The Guren's radiant claw slashed downward while Metal Gear Rex intercepted with its shield. Sparks cascaded like deadly rain as superhated metal met advanced alloys. Red's counter-strike with the rail gun forced the Guren into evasive maneuvers—a backflip that defied physics before rushing forward again.
A spinning kick targeted Rex's sensor array. Red sidestepped with surprising agility for such a massive machine, then delivered a shield bash that sent the Guren skidding across broken stone.
"Impressive speed," Red's voice carried analytical appreciation. "But technique lacks refinement."
She snarled back through gritted teeth. "I'd rather be called 'snake' than 'Eleven' any day!" The Guren's claw ignited with radiant energy, clamping onto Rex's shield. Superheated waves rippled across advanced armor plating.
Red hissed and jettisoned the damaged shield. The Guren's follow-up kick caught Rex center mass, staggering the massive machine backward.
Red steadied his footing. "Most impressive. Superior to Lancelot specifications." He raised the rail gun for close combat. "Pity your loyalty serves the wrong master."
"My loyalty belongs to Zero!" Kallen roared, her claw sparking with contained energy. This time Rex twisted away from her grasp, delivering a devastating kick that sent her tumbling.
Red drew his secondary weapons—beam rifles that filled the air with deadly light. The Guren caught the energy blasts on its radiant claw, absorbing power before charging forward again, armored boots leaving deep impressions in solid stone.
"This machine..." Red analyzed combat data with growing respect. "...exceeds preliminary assessments."
The Guren swung again. Metal Gear Rex intercepted with the rail gun itself, a beam weapon meeting an energy claw. Heat erupted between them while the ground cracked under tremendous force. They pushed against each other—raw power versus advanced engineering—until the cliff edge surrendered to physics.
The Guren tumbled into the ravine below, disappearing into shadow and mist.
Red deactivated his weapons, watching vapor rise from the abyss.
"Until our next encounter, crimson serpent."
Aftermath
Metal Gear Rex discovered the Lancelot nearby, trapped in a system malfunction, weapons firing randomly into empty air while its pilot fought against cascading system failures. A destroyed enemy unit lay scattered around its feet, a victim of friendly fire.
Red calmly severed Lancelot's weapon arm, ending the malfunction cycle.
"Medical teams to my coordinates," he ordered through communications. "Inform command—Zero has escaped the operational area."
He turned away from the battlefield, cape billowing in smoke-filled wind.
Ashford Academy - The Revelation
Rain drummed against windows as Lelouch stumbled into his dormitory room, soaked and exhausted. Despair etched deep lines across his aristocratic features while water dripped from his dark hair onto polished floors. He reached for the light switch, then froze as a lamp activated without his touch.
Commander Red sat in the room's single chair, one leg crossed over the other. His reflective visor caught lamplight while steam vented from hidden systems in his collar. The crimson cape draped around his shoulders like spilled blood.
"Greetings, Zero," Red's voice carried calm authority that made the air feel thick. A pause stretched like a wire under tension. "Or perhaps I should say... brother?"
Lelouch's eyes widened as memories crashed over him—their first encounter, the impossible familiarity, the shared genetic markers his Geass had detected but his mind had refused to acknowledge.
Red leaned forward slightly, visor reflecting Lelouch's shocked expression.
"We have considerable business to discuss."
The Past Intrudes
Zero's mask lay discarded on the desktop, revealing Lelouch's pale features and haunted eyes.
"What do you want, Commander Red?" he asked, exhaustion stripping away diplomatic niceties.
Red moved with mechanical precision, leaning close enough that his voice carried only to Lelouch's ears. His words dripped with poisonous mockery.
"Remarkable cover for an assassination operation," he whispered, gesturing subtly toward a couple kissing beneath streetlights outside. "Finally claimed your prize, and all it required was my elimination of paternal obstacles."
A soft chuckle escaped as he stepped back, producing a cigarette from his cape. Smoke coiled around his reflective visor as he turned toward the window.
"Express gratitude later... Lulu," he murmured, dark laughter following him into shadow.
Zero's expression hardened into arctic fury. "I know C.C.'s identity—and her current location."
Present Confrontation
Now, in the dimly lit dormitory, Zero faced Commander Red across an impossible chasm of family bonds and ideological warfare.
"Before panic clouds your judgment," Red said with casual authority, "I did not come for assassination or arrest."
He straightened, meeting Lelouch's glare with mechanical calm.
"I propose a potential—"
"Alliance," Lelouch finished, the word tasting like poison.
The concept hung between them like smoke from Red's cigarette. Both men remained motionless, locked in silent warfare of wills and calculation. Neither noticed the faint green glow from the corner, where C.C. observed their reunion with ancient eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of empires.
Narita - Major Metallitron
Dr. Joseph Fenette sprinted from the research facility with his team, alarms shrieking behind them like mechanical banshees. Relief flooded through him when a Britannian transport screeched to a halt beside their group.
"Quickly! Board immediately!" the driver commanded. Fenette ushered his people inside, climbing in last. He exhaled shakily, managing a grateful smile. "Thank you. You've saved our lives."
The driver's expression remained unreadable as the vehicle accelerated away from the facility. Silence stretched until he finally spoke.
"Tell me, Joseph... did you acquire sufficient data regarding C.C.?"
The scientist froze. His head whipped toward the driver as a thin wire slipped around his throat from the rear seat. His eyes bulged as the garrote pulled tight, cutting off air and blood flow.
Through dimming vision, he saw Major Metallitron's cybernetic features twisted into predatory satisfaction.
"Red Ribbon Army knows about your unauthorized research, Doctor. Classified information requires... permanent security measures. You're not part of our plans."
Joseph clawed at the wire, gasping desperately, but Metallitron only applied more pressure, watching life drain from his target's eyes with mechanical patience. One final convulsion, then stillness.
Metallitron released the wire, shoving the corpse aside. "Dispose of the body."
The team obeyed without question, heaving Dr. Fenette's remains into muddy water as their transport disappeared into Narita's storm-lashed darkness.
Area 11 - The Rain of Truth
Rain hammered the park like artillery bombardment, each drop exploding against leaves and stone. A girl stood motionless beneath ancient trees, water streaming from her hair while her clothes clung to trembling limbs.
Lelouch arrived with an umbrella, his voice soft with concern.
"I apologize for the delay. I assumed you'd sought shelter by now."
She remained silent, staring at nothing.
"We should find somewhere dry," he suggested gently.
Finally, her voice broke the silence—fragile as spun glass, heavy with unshed tears.
"Lulu... Zero fights for justice, doesn't he?"
Caught off guard, he nodded hesitantly. "That's... his stated purpose."
Her voice cracked as tears mixed with rain. "Then why did he murder my father? He was gentle—he never harmed anyone!"
Her sobs grew heavier, more desperate. "But they buried him alive. He couldn't breathe—he didn't deserve to suffocate in darkness!"
The words struck Lelouch like physical blows. She collapsed against him, clinging with desperate strength while the umbrella fell forgotten to splash in growing puddles.
"Please, Lulu... help me understand," she begged before pressing her lips against his. Shocked, Lelouch hesitated—then returned the kiss, guilt twisting through his chest like molten metal.
But they had an audience.
At the park's edge, half-concealed by dripping trees, Major Metallitron leaned against bark while rain hissed against his glowing cigarette. Smoke veiled his mechanical grin as he muttered to himself.
"Buried alive, you say?"
He chuckled, the sound carrying cybernetic undertones as rain drummed against his metallic components.
"Excellent cover for elimination operations." His grin widened as he watched their embrace. "Finally obtained your objective... and all it cost was dear old daddy."
He exhaled smoke that mixed with falling rain, then turned away with laughter echoing through the storm.
"Thank me later, Lulu."
As he vanished into darkness, the camera lingered on a nearby brick wall—spray-painted with a coiled serpent wrapped around the crimson ribbon of the Red Ribbon Army, its fangs bared in eternal threat.