Hi there, I'm back! This is my first Code Geass fanfic, so please be kind to me.
Lap 1: The Day a New Demon was Resurrected
"I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter." ~Winston Churchill
2018 A.D., Generic office building, Tokyo, Japan, 10 Minutes after the Assassination of Lelouch vi Britannia
The light was painful to his eyes, the shimmering tendrils of brightness acting like a hot iron to his waking mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the daylight, blurs coalescing into recognizable forms. He lay on his back, a soft cushion beneath him, cradling his body and protecting him from the unforgiving hardness of the cold stone floor that lay beneath it. His arms were clasped across his chest, as if arranged there in a display of reverence. As he finished processing this, he began to observe his surroundings.
A ceiling fan twirled above him slowly, its broad, dark, leaf-like blades tracing lazy patterns against the plain beige of the ceiling. A fluttering in the corner of his vision piqued his curiosity, and with a great effort, he turned his head to see. A curtain, pale blue in color, a stark contrast to the dying light of day, wavered in the breeze generated by the spinning fan above, its motion languid and erratic, as if it were a diseased serpent thrashing in vain attempt to stave off its inevitable demise.
As he concluded his observation of the room by sight, he became aware of another sense beckoning his attention: that of his hearing. A muted rush accompanied the whirling of the fan, a whispered rustle from the waving of the curtain, but the only sound to which he paid heed was the one right beside him, that of broken-hearted sobbing. He twisted his neck, craning it to look to the other side, wondering who would weep over him, after everything he had done. Beside him knelt a man, tall and proud in visage, weeping over his broken form. If the distinct attire had not betrayed the man's identity, the metallic plate that hid his left eye did so. With a last tremendous effort, he brought his arm up to grip that of the lamenting man, in doing so, prompting a rapid shift in countenance, transmuting from confusion to astonishment to amazement, and finally extracting a response.
"Your Majesty…" He whispered.
Lelouch vi Britannia, the Ninety-Ninth Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire drew a ragged breath, his first since awakening, "Is this... Hell?"
Jeremiah swallowed, then shook his head vigorously, "No, Majesty. I spirited your body away from that accursed place as soon as I ordered the retreat."
"And did everything go... as I planned?" His voice was stronger now, if still hoarse.
A nod came in reply, "Everything's been set up: Suzaku will help Princess Nunnally take control of the throne. Your dream for a better world for her... You did it."
Lelouch nodded, then rolled onto his side, groaning from the effort. Jeremiah quickly crouched down, half-lifting his lord to his feet. The Demon Emperor took stock of his own body. The white robes he wore as Emperor were stained with the deep red of his own blood, a hole in the upper part of his silken coat betraying the location of the fatal impalement he had suffered...
'Not as fatal as I thought...' He mused to himself.
He shed his clothing, letting his coat and shirt fall to examine the stab wound left by his best friend and co-conspirator. The majority of his form was free of wounds, but for the mark on his chest, a crescent-shaped scar over his heart. He lifted his hand, caressing it indifferently, as if it were no longer a part of him, and in a way, it was. Lelouch vi Britannia was dead.
"How did this come to be?" His voice was dead, lacking an emotion.
Before Jeremiah could reply, there was a knocking sound. Turning around, Lelouch saw a door, thankfully without a window on it, so that no one could see him. Jeremiah gestured silently for him to hide behind the door, which he did, allowing his Knight to open it.
"Hello, Lord Jeremiah." A new, unfamiliar voice, definitely male, with a sophisticated, aristocratic temper to it.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Jeremiah asked threateningly.
"I am here to see his Majesty, Lelouch vi Britannia."
There was a subtext-filled pause, "His Majesty is dead, and if this is some sort of prank, I swear-"
"I assure you, his Majesty is quite alive. In fact, he's standing behind the door."
Lelouch froze in his place as the words were spoken, 'How did he know? Was he listening outside the whole time? No, if he had, he wouldn't have known I was behind the door. But if he wasn't eavesdropping then what...'
Deciding to take control of the situation, he stepped forward, "That's enough, Jeremiah, I'll take it from here." He stepped around the door to face the man who had the audacity to know of his survival, "What do you want?"
The man was of average height, no more than six feet, with jet black hair and lucid eyes, the left a steel grey, the right a nautical blue. He wore dark jeans, haphazardly tucked into shin-length military boots, and a shirt the same color as his hair, with an inverted white cross dominating the garment, stretching all the way across it. A dark coat was settled over his shoulders, kept in check by a golden chain, threaded through a hole in the article's collar, his hands free of the sleeves to maintain mobility. Clasped in one hand was a long staff, affixed at one end with a curved blade, while the other held a bottle of cheap, store-bought sake. He smiled, eyes twinkling as he saw Lelouch.
"May I come in?"
Lelouch vi Britannia commands you… REVIEW THIS STORY!
Yeah, I know, pretty short for a prologue, but the actual chapters will be longer. However, this still counts as Lap 1 (like in racing. NASCAR, anyone?).