#1600s board shorts my beloved

[clove-pinks]

Watch "HOW TO GET DRESSED IN A 1610S SUIT: The Modern Maker Workroom BASICS" on YouTube

Just a huge fan of this video. Mathew Gnagy begins in his underwear, which is a long shirt similar in construction to early 19th century men's shirts, but even more gigantic, and a pair of drawers which he compares to Venetians (knee breeches c. 1570-1620). He rolls up the shirt beneath the drawers to pad his hips and the effect is amazing. It really looks so good when he completes the ensemble!

I have been reading Phillis and C. Willett Cunnington's Handbook of English Costume in the 17th Century and The History of Underclothes by the same authors. They mention 17th century breeches stuffed with bombast of "horsehair, flock, wool, rags, flax, bran or cotton" to give the desirable silhouette. (Before bombast referred to an inflated vocabulary it referred to inflated pants.) Quoting Benjamin Jonson: "Stay let me see these drums, these kilderkins, these bombard slops, what is it crams them so? Nothing but hair." (The Case is Altered, 1609).

The video is a great demonstration of "trussing the points" i.e. using ribbons or tape ties to attach the breeches and doublet, which held them together and kept the breeches on. After so much lacing and lacing I couldn't help but wonder how the clothes could come off in a timely manner—but he takes the suit off and strips to his underwear to show how quick it is to undress! (Much to consider).

An illustration from Handbook of English Costume in the 17th Century shows that the basic suit-shape is the same at midcentury, but the breeches are now held up by metal rings under the doublet skirt and the ribbon bows peeking out are decorative.

[wide-eyedscottishlass]

The Fisher and the Selkie

Young Duncan Campbell must man his family’s fishing boat alone for a time, as both his father and older brother are too ill with the flux to work for their daily catch.  After several days of empty nets, he pulls in a surprisingly heavy catch, and finds something caught unexpectedly in his net. Takes place in Scotland, early 1600′s.

photo source

…by her silver-grey fur, he knew she was a female grey seal, by her size he guessed she was a juvenile.  The poor thing was panting hard in her distress, and when Duncan laid his hand against her silky, wet fur, he found that her heartbeat was strong, but likely too rapid for her own good.  “Och, aye…there, there, ye pretty lassie,” he tutted, seeking to soothe and calm the frightened  beastie as he worked to release her without damaging his precious net.  “I swear I’ll have ye free of this in a nonce.”  At that her trembling seemed to lessen, while she continued to track his every move with those large, doleful eyes; Duncan even fancied that she understood from his tone of voice what he was saying, and thus she was doing her best to be still enough to make his task easier. 

And then of a sudden, she was fully disentangled and looking up at him, the fear that had gripped her melting away from her soft, dark eyes.  Taken by surprise, Duncan could’t help but chuckle, “Aye, just as I promised ye–safe ye are and safe ye’ll stay.  But ye must beware the fisher nets, lassie.  Not all men are as soft-hearted and as easily moved by a pretty pair of eyes as I am.”

She blinked those eyes several times, once again making him feel as though she followed exactly what he was saying.  I’m going daft from the sun baking the brain in me noggin’, he told himself; there’s nae way this bonnie creature can follow a word I say!  And yet she held his gaze a few moments more before settling her head against his open palm in a gesture that felt to him like gratitude, and then rolled away and over the side of his boat, barely creating a splash as she dove into the dark blue sea.  Duncan watched her glide effortlessly away, just beneath the surface, until she popped her head above the water for one last look at him, before she sped away with all the grace granted to a child of the sea.

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

The Campbell family celebrated Duncan’s bountiful success that very night, and he basked in the approval of his father, having at last proven that he had the tenacity and skill to singlehandedly provide for those depending upon him.  But he decided to keep the tale of his unusual encounter with the grey seal to himself--half convinced by the time that he tethered his craft to the weathered jetty which his folk had used for two generations, that his imagination had gotten the best of him.  He was not at all keen to allow his hard won admiration to be frittered away into the laughter such a ridiculous claim would inspire.

For three days more, Duncan returned to that patch of water where he had finally met success, and each time he spotted the same grey seal slicing through the water and splashing playfully off his bow.  She never came closer than a few feet away, and always stayed on the far side from wherever he had cast his net, as though she had learned her lesson well enough to avoid getting entangled once again.  Duncan soon started to think of her as his good luck charm, for his net always came up full whenever she was nearby.

Duncan often sang while he worked, sea shanties and traditional Celtic ditties, and he noticed that his new companion would draw quite near when he sang, so that he began to pitch a song or two her way each day.  Before too long he started to consider what to name her, eventually settling on Merauda, as it meant ‘of the sea’.

Once his father and brother were well enough to rejoin in those daily labors, Merauda ceased her visits, perplexing Duncan and leaving him strangely disappointed.  And in their presence, he kept his singing to himself, knowing he’d make himself the object of their ridicule otherwise.  

The weeks passed swiftly, and midsummer arrived, and with it a fierce heat wave that left folk short-tempered and uncomfortable.  The longest day of the year was contentious in the Campbell household, due not only to the ungodly heat, but to Isla’s confinement since the twins birth the day before.  Duncan took the opportunity to slip away, seeking cooler conditions out upon the water.

Alone under the cloudless night sky, the water so awash in moonlight and the sparkle of a thousand stars, and with no one around to inhibit him, Duncan was moved to sing again. At the top of his voice, he sang those old comforting, familiar songs that he had always loved best.  And feeling rather lonely in the night, he sang those songs of longing and of unrequited love which were ever part and parcel of the poetry of his people.  Eventually, he drifted off to sleep with the fading notes falling still, leaving only the lapping of the waves against the hull to fill the silence.

The creaking of the flooboards awoke him about an hour later, to find a pale figure standing at the bow of his boat, watching him intently.  At first, Duncan thought he must be dreaming, but the soft ocean breeze that cooled his skin and the way his craft bobbed upon the waves felt far too real to be a dream.  He would have called out to it, but he was too dumbfounded at first to question how--with no land or other vessel in sight--a stranger had boarded his craft.  Goosebumps--the precusor to recognition--crawled across his skin as he realized it was a young woman.

Her dark, unbound hair fell halfway to her waist and her fair skin nearly shone by the light of the swollen moon that rode the sky above them.  Her eyes were dark too, so dark that he could barely detect their whites, and she was standing there as naked and unashamed of it, as on the day that she was born.

Her breasts were round and full and tempting, and Duncan’s blood quickened at the thought of touching them; of cupping their succulent fullness in his palms, anticipating the sounds she might give over as he fondled her precious flesh.  His mouth watered as he imagined tasting the sweet, tight buds of her nipples, and his cock grew hard as his eyes traced the curves of her dainty waist and slim hips, and down to her smooth, tempting thighs and the soft, dark thatch of hair between them, covering her mound.  He’d had a fair share of village lasses and farmers’ daughters in recent years, but none as fair and beguiling as the vision that stood before him now.  

Pooled at her feet, Duncan marked a wonder out of myth that made his heart beat hard with blood already heated from just the sight of her.  For the full moon’s light was more than enough for him to discern the familiar, dappled pelt of his much-missed, beloved pet.  For a moment, his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth as his mind reached the inescapable conclusion.  Her name escaped his lips in an incredulous whisper.  “Merauda.”

She nodded her head, and smiled softly as she took a cautious step towards him on newly minted legs.  “So ye have named me.”  Her voice sounded a little rusty--and if she were human, Duncan would assume it was from long disuse.  He sat upright, afraid in part that he might break this inexplicable spell if he moved too abruptly, and repeated her name, “Merauda...how...how is this possible?”

“You were kind to me,” she answered softly, an unfamiliar but melodious accent colouring her words, “So very kind.  And then you gave me a mortal name.”  Now she was only a few feet away, and he smelled those things he loved best about the sea--clean, fresh air, the tang of salt, and the freedom he felt when he sailed alone--on her very skin.  “And you sang for me in a voice both fair and true...”

“Aye...that I did, sweetling...” he replied, hypnotized by the same dolefulness in her widened eyes which he had seen in them as she lay tangled in his net.

“...you sang of longing and loneliness...and...and of love...”  

She stood within his reach now, and Duncan’s fingers ached with his need to touch her unblemished skin, as she lowered her eyes tentatively and revealed her purpose to him, “There are none among my kind have ever touched my heart as ye have, Duncan Campbell.”  She raised her eyes to his again, braving the possibility that he might reject her, and told him, “An’ I have come to ask if ye could love me too.”

The surprise and thrill of hearing his given name upon her pretty lips sent a wave of happiness coursing through him, and a heat beyond anything he had felt for any lass he’d ever had, possessed him.  That’s lust, he told himself, one of those wicked, deadly sins the pater always warns about.  But more than even that primal urge, Duncan felt something in his chest expand and give  way, and in that instant--as he rose to meet her and gazed up close into the dark, unfathomable depths of those soft and plaintive Selkie eyes--he knew that he’d been pining badly for his Merauda for these past few weeks.  And that as unnatural and surely damning as it was, he already loved her and wanted to have her forever as his own...

tagging:  @strangelock221b​ @ben-locked​ @humanbornarchangel​ @ben-c-group-therapy​ @letterstosherlock​ @thehiddenlawyer​

[jacewilliams1]

Doing soft field landings for real

“Ever land on grass?” Chet asked quietly, as always, with great understatement that veiled the imminent challenge.

“No,” I replied, knowing that I would do it soon.

The morning was clear on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay even though the sun was not yet high, and the dew still hung on cool blades of grass. The turf runway at Harford County airport (0W3) in Churchville, Maryland, was only 17 nautical miles northeast of our home base at Martin State Airport in Baltimore. My flight instructor, Chet Allen, reviewed the reasons why every competent pilot needed to have proficiency in soft field landings, including his belief that it was an excellent way to satisfy, in part, my flight review required by the FAA (FAR 61.56 (c)).

Proficiency. It’s a big word at the FAA, and not a bad thing to possess, actually. It saves lives, mostly, and looks very good from the ramp.

“You know, Chet, I have only ever done simulated soft field landings.”

There’s a paved runway at 0W3, but what fun would that be?

Those are the ones you must do for the private pilot flight test. The examiner asks you to “show me a landing for a soft field.” All he wants is a landing at minimum controllable airspeed where the main wheels touch down first very softly so as not to stick in the imaginary mud. Then, you plant the nose wheel even more softly so as not to stick it firmly in the mythical goo and produce the first step of a giant cartwheel that destroys both sod, airplane and occupants. And you do this on 3,000-foot asphalt runways where you can bleed off speed over the first third of the runway just before touchdown to make it all happen just right.

Chet merely shrugged his shoulders.

Simulation would not be permitted this morning. Today we would fly the Beech Sundowner onto real grass, all wet with the morning dew and soft from melted snow, grass that was 90 feet wide (nearly three times as wide as many runways I’d landed on before) but only 1600 feet long. A grass runway that was not only soft but short as well. During practice we had assumed that the soft fields were very long, and our “short fields” were very hard so we could come down steeply and plant the main gear firmly while slamming on the brakes to prevent careening off the end. That technique would not work here because a steep approach would bury the main tires in the real muck, and we would tumble nose first while losing momentum and create work for the National Transportation Safety Board as they investigated another training mishap.

The runway faced north along our direction of flight. At least the sun would not be in my eyes.

“Do it slowly,” Chet said, “or you’ll sink the mains into the turf, and we’ll flip over,” as if I had no idea that was even a remote possibility. What did he suppose was going through my mind?

“Keep the nose high and touch down softly,” he cautioned.

“Right,” I acknowledged. “I hope the turf is not as wet as the grass next to the ramp back home,” I offered aloud.

No response.

The field came into view. I steered a bit west and entered a left downwind to the runway at a 45-degree angle, just as the FAA’s Aeronautical Information Manual advised. I turned to the base leg, chopped the power, and dropped the full 30 degrees of flaps to get us slowed down. I trimmed the nose up as far as it would go. We approached stalling speed, and I added a bit more throttle.

Chet still said nothing.

“I hope he tells me if he thinks it doesn’t look right,” I said silently to my anxious soul. “I’ve never done this for real.”

More silence, loud silence with the engine at idle.

As I turned to short final approach, we were still descending a bit too fast. I added more power, but now the runway was moving to the left!

“Crosswind!” I uttered softly. “I don’t need this. Not short and soft and a crosswind!”

Not a word from Chet.

I dropped the left wing and recaptured the extended centerline of the runway. Then I kicked in some right rudder and held the forward slip on the center of the runway.

“This could get ugly,” I thought, but I remembered the wind speed was only 10 knots from the west. “I can handle this,” I repeated silently. “I can handle this. Just let the left main touch first and keep the nose high. Keep it high. Don’t cartwheel!”

We were near the ground now, just 200 feet to go. I had the drifting stopped with the left wing down.

“When do I chop the power?” I asked Chet.

“When you have the field made,” he parroted with the textbook answer, staring straight ahead.

I wondered why I was paying him.

“Chop it now!” was my non-verbal answer to myself. “Pull the power now!”

When the soft field is really soft, the right technique is important.

So, we descended, power off, left wing low, sun glinting on wet grass, with only the sound of slipstream air rushing by at 75 knots. Fifty feet to go, 40, 30, 20…

Early in my training, I tended to start the flare too high, ten feet or so over the pavement. On a concrete runway, that meant we plopped in hard with a clank and a bump. If I did that here, we were going to die, or worse. I desperately wanted to raise the nose and that drooping left wing, but I kept it down, sacrificing bank angle to drift control. The nose tracked straight ahead, gradually coming higher and higher in the flare until it filled my forward vision, obstructing my view of the runway racing by so that I could see it now only by looking out my side window. Then, almost imperceptibly, the left main wheel greased the wet grass silently. Remarkably, we were still tracking straight ahead, so I relaxed the yoke with my tense, sweating, left hand, lowering the right wing and the nose at the same rate. I simultaneously eased the pressure on my right foot as the nose wheel settled on the turf seconds after the right main. Still tracking straight ahead. No cartwheel!

I suddenly remembered to pull back on the yoke to keep the nose wheel from digging into the soft turf during the rollout.

Still not a word from Chet. He just looked straight ahead.

“Not bad,” he said finally, with no more enthusiasm or conviction than when he ate his beloved orange-colored peanut butter crackers. “Let’s go around,” he added.

The end of 1600 feet of turf was rushing closer. One more test to pass. Full power, flaps to 15 degrees, right rudder to fight the torque of the engine. Positive rate of climb at best angle of climb speed. Safely away. Obstacles cleared. On to the next challenge.

For an instant, I thought I detected the hint of a grin on Chet’s usually sullen face.

“Did you see that?” I yelled, relieved to be in one piece and airborne again, my heart racing.

“Not bad,” he repeated. “Not bad.” He glanced at me for only an instant, then stared straight ahead. Now Chet was smiling.

The post Doing soft field landings for real appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/12/doing-soft-field-landings-for-real/

[junker-town]

THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE, let’s not let 4 top-10 upsets distract us from the fact that Louisville gave up 45 points in a loss to Boston College

It’s your weekly tour of the angriest in college football internet.

College football’s Week 7 was wild. Four top-10 teams lost to unranked opponents, making it the first true UPSET WEEKEND of the year. The games on Friday and Saturday were a great illustration of why we all love this sport.

Another illustration: the internet meltdowns from the fanbases whose teams lost. We’re here to give them their due.

Auburn (lost at LSU, 27-23)

And did so after having a 20-0 lead and 96 percent win probability. How are Auburn fans feeling about Gus Malzahn? To the Auburn board at SECRants.com!

Gus supporters he made us the #3 team in the state....

#1 Alabama #2 Troy (they beat LSU) #3 Auburn

The first reply:

4th. You're forgetting South Alabama

Some see this loss as a potentially unifying event.

Has Gus Malzahn finally unified the fanbase?

Too long now we've been divided among those of us who looked at the glass half full and those of us who have looked at it as a broken glass stepped on by years of a combination of arrogance and incompetence.

Are Auburn fans all finally 100% committed to change for the betterment of the program?

The first reply:

Regardless if that glass is half full or empty, i think we’ve all figured out that it’s filled with piss

One poster simply notes: “Friendly reminder Gus was out-coached by Ed Orgeron.”

Here are a few people who believe Malzahn is trying to get himself fired:

Another thread posits the same idea:

Gus wants his buyout money

-zero fricks given -he's bored with auburn - angry about his mandatory break up with rhett

(Malzahn’s buyout is somewhere north of $6.6 million if Auburn fires him now.)

One fan is on board with Gus’ scheme:

Thank you Gus!

You have made my life easier. With the poor performance and second loss I now have no expectations. I plan to fish more and check the scores on Saturday from the water. The UGA game now makes no difference and actually I may have to pull for losing all the remaining games just so Gus goes away for sure.

And former Auburn and NFL fullback Heath Evans applied for the not-vacant head coaching job in a startlingly detailed note on Twitter:

#WAREAGLE http://pic.twitter.com/2Qp0Dm3Zt5

— Heath Evans (@HeathEvans44) October 14, 2017

Clemson (lost at Syracuse, 27-24)

Dabo Swinney is 95-29 at Clemson. He’s one of four active FBS head coaches to have ever won a title. He’s also an ex-Alabama player, and he spent his Saturday attending a 1992 championship reunion in Tuscaloosa. But Swinney just signed an eight-year deal worth $54 million at Clemson.

Let’s see how a poster at the TigerNet.com forum feels about all this.

Dabo needs to choose Bama or us...

Unacceptable having a coach who is making travel plans to another school while it's game week with a shorter week of rest and the starting QB is hurt. Sick of hearing this Bama stuff. The AD needs to force the issue with Dabo that he needs to come out and say he is 110% committed to Clemson and the Bama talk is non sense. Clemson fans are pouring in too much money to have a head coach worried about traveling to another school during the season. Dabo needs to be reminded he was rejected by Bama numerous times, and given the opportunity of a lifetime by Clemson

Swinney was classy to Syracuse after the loss there Friday night, even going to the Orange locker room to congratulate and take pictures with players. Is classiness actually bad?

Is Dabo Still Hungry

An Honest Question. The drive comes from the coaches, and it did not appear to be there. Last year's team was hungry, every week they got better.

I believe in the players and coaches, But do they have the same hunger as last year? Or are they a little too okay with this loss?

I am sure I will be slammed. But going into the other team locker room right after a loss. Never heard of that before. Act of class or a lack of hunger?

The next game will tell a lot.

Someone else is worried that Clemson’s path to an ACC Atlantic title is now obstructed by Syracuse, which, well: who knows if the Orange will ever lose at football again?

Has anyone been talking about the fact we need Cuse to lose?

Maybe Germans but if Cuse somehow beats Miami they have a shot at the division, we don't control our own destiny even if we do win out

One of the key parts of any post-loss message board cycle on the college football internet is when posters start to claim they’re abandoning the message board out of frustration with their fellow fans. This happens all over the country, but Clemson fans were really insistent about it.

Don't know what I was thinking

I have followed Tigernet for some time on Twitter and have been a member here for a while but not an active contributor. That being said, I am now considering dumping both sites. I thought this would be a place for real fans of our beloved Tigers. I am appalled at some of the things that I have read here today. This should be a place for updates about what is going on and a place to support our teams.

Most of what has been on here has been name calling and very derogatory comments about our staff. The very same staff that were the greatest in the world when we won the Natty.

All of this after one loss this season. The same number of losses we had last year. I call these people fair weather supporters, not true fans.

So, bash my thoughts if you like, but just remember, who are you really hurting with your words. Here's a hint, it is not the coaches, it is the players you say you support.

Someone has a good analogy for it:

Comin­g on Tigernet after we lost a game is kinda like

thinking back about a previous marriage. It seemed like a good idea when you did it.

But then the whining and bishing and moaning and complaining starts and you have to wonder what in the world was I thinking.

So, you give it up for a while.

Then after a couple of years you forget how bad it was the last time and you make the same mistake all over again.

We never learn.

Washington (lost at Arizona State, 13-7)

At HardcoreHusky.com, a rant by user “CokeGreaterThanPepsi”:

COKEHEAD IS MAD AS HELL AND HE'S NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE

How can a bunch of losers like us sitting in our moms' basement see that Jake Browning should never ever be the focal point of the offense and should never have our hopes and dreams thrust on his shoulders to lead a mild comeback, but our fucking coaches can’t see that shit?

That shit last night was utterly embarrassing by Jake and Pete. I am done blaming Jonathan Smith because Pete needs to stop being a pussy and tell that fucker Smith that this bullshit with pretending Jake is even one of our top 10 players on our team is a fucking joke.

Play to the strengths of your fucking team. PLAY TO THE STRENGTHS OF THE TEAM. FUCK!

Also, fuck Pete for hiring Pease and Strausser.

Washington’s offense has generally been amazing under coordinator Jonathan Smith.

But someone’s got a new, realistic coordinator suggestion for Chris Petersen:

Hire Chip Kelly

Fucking do it Pete.

(Hiring Chip Kelly is also part of the post-loss message board routine at any big school.)

Let’s see how this guy’s feeling about Jake Browning, one of the better QBs in school history and the guy who led a Playoff offense a season ago:

Jake Browning's Legacy

Being held to 7 points against one of the worst teams in the P12, coached by an illiterate buffoon, and coming off 11 straight games of yielding 30 points.

Johnathan Smith too.

That is their legacy. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Nothing more, nothing less. Tough but fair.

Washington State (lost at Cal, 37-3)

Both sides of the Apple Cup earned a moment in this spotlight.

At WazzuWatch.com, a visual representation of the WSU offense:

Keeping with the zombie theme (a frequent Mike Leach topic), another poster doesn’t think QB Luke Falk should get the opportunity to represent Wazzu in big games later in the season.

Why I don't want to win out

The spectre of Falkenstein showing up for a high profile, big time game is just too much to bear.

At this point I'd rather be an 8 or 9 win team with him at the helm so we get a middling team that we could have the possibility to beat despite poor play from him (though last night showed that if he's determined to lose, he'll make it happen.)

I don't trust him and I don't feel he deserves the opportunity to embarrass the school and the team like he did last night.

Falk has thrown for more than 13,000 yards in four seasons in Pullman, ICYMI.

As an added bonus on Wazzu’s weekend, the Cougs had their athletic director, Bill Moos, hired away by Nebraska. Let’s check in with the commenters at SB Nation’s CougCenter:

Oregon lost this weekend, too. Good times in the Pacific Northwest!

Tennessee (lost at home to South Carolina, 15-9)

The Vols are not ranked. They’re actually 3-4. But the message boards at VolNation.com have become appointment viewing this season.

I’ll keep this short, though. Here is a thread in which Tennessee football fans seriously consider the idea of trying to hire away the head coach from ...

<drumroll>

<continued drumroll>

Purdue!

Emphasis added:

I'm warming up to the idea of bringing in Jeff Brohm

Obviously, it'd be a challenge to convince him to leave Purdue after only 1 season but he's looking better and better as a head coach.

Saturday, he beat PJ Fleck decisively. In the season opener, he almost beat Petrino. He beat an SEC team 38-3. And he had Harbaugh on the ropes in the 4th quarter. This man knows how to coach...

And what's just as impressive, is his ability to get the most out of his quarterbacks. He's currently rolling with two QBs who have combined for 13 TDs to 6 INTs and a completion percentage of 62% (the leading passer is at 69%). What he was able to do with QBs Brandon Doughty and Mike White at WKU is simply remarkable... not to mention the 1600 yard rusher and TWO 1300 yard receivers he coached last year... The man has one of the best offensive minds in football.

I’m not even making fun of anything here. It’s all true.

Louisville (lost at home to Boston College, 45-42)

Which, to be clear, involved giving up 45 points to Boston College.

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA WE JUST LOST AT HOME TO BC GET THE DEFENSIVE COORDINATOR THE FUCK OUT OF TOWN RIGHT NOW

— Mathew Ryan Haskell (@MHaskell5) October 14, 2017

We seriously lost to Boston College yesterday. That was real life wow.

— JC (@ConnorCarroll11) October 15, 2017

I really still can't believe we lost to freaking Boston college. Smfh.

— Sam Borella (@samborella) October 15, 2017

Dude, we lost to BC.

— Brick Bitino (@Mr_Wilson502) October 14, 2017

I go on a hike and come back expecting to see Louisville beat BC by like 100... but we lost. Wtf???????

— Emily Houze (@houzeemily) October 14, 2017

recorded game, busy day, just finished game, dumbfounded we lost to Boston College to feel better I’m gonna say they had Doug Flutie

— Stephen Kihnley (@_olekihnley32) October 15, 2017

That is fucking great @UofLFootball but we lost ... and our D coach sucks.... talk about that .. giving up 45 pts to Boston College SMH

— James (@jrg1015) October 15, 2017

All deserve to be fired! We just lost to BC

— Kevin Byrd (@KevinMatthew22) October 14, 2017

Man I woke up from a nap and we lost to Boston College. This is the worst week ever

— Heb (@andrewheeb) October 14, 2017

Just woke up from a nap and we lost to fucking Boston College

— Gage (@Outed_GG) October 14, 2017

Please stop saying "we may not even beat UK this year". We just lost to Boston College. We waive the right to look ahead.

— LJ tha Fiasco (@LJthaFiasc0) October 14, 2017

I’m drunk. Or hungover. We lost to Boston College. F life.

— Daniel Farish (@danielfarish) October 14, 2017

We gave up 45 to Boston College... BOSTON COLLEGE! They haven’t had 45 all season combined! #slightexaggeration

— Zach Owsley (@owsley614) October 14, 2017

lol we lost to Boston college

— Marcus (@Legitt_Bro) October 14, 2017

We lost to Boston college

— Terrance McCage™ (@Daboss_TM) October 14, 2017

Can’t believe we lost to Boston College...

— Tony Smyzer (@tonytony290) October 14, 2017

We gave up 45 to Boston College, tho. Bless our heart

— Brent Evers le (@SoleTrain247) October 14, 2017

Lol we lost to Boston College. This defense is bad

— KB (@KodieBrant) October 14, 2017

We lost to Boston college lmao

— Kevin Byrd (@KevinMatthew22) October 14, 2017

We lost to Boston College today lmfao

— Nick Hogan™ (@Nick_Hogan15) October 15, 2017

Lmao we lost to Boston college

— jordan wolford (@wolfyjordan) October 14, 2017

Wow we lost to Boston College.

— coryb06 (@coryb06) October 14, 2017

We just lost to Boston College. Fire everyone.

— JMAC (@diamondsofking) October 14, 2017

Lamar Jackson had 512 yards, 5 touchdowns. AND WE LOST AT HOME TO BOSTON COLLEGE @CoachSirmon resign now

— Lamar Jackson stan (@fakechandler_) October 14, 2017

We lost to Boston College. JESUS

— Tre (@Kvng_3T) October 14, 2017

U mean to tell me that we lost to Boston college?

— Earl (@tinsleyearl35) October 14, 2017

Dude, we lost to BC.

— Brick Bitino (@Mr_Wilson502) October 14, 2017

@CoachPetrinoUL We gave up 45 points to Boston College today coach

— Drew (@MasterDroo) October 14, 2017

Let’s look on the bright side.

We lost to BC and it's embarrassing as hell and coaches should probably be fired and all that but Dez's touchdown catch was nice.

— Jake Scott (@ScottAJake) October 14, 2017

[emeraldthoughtsblog]

Code Geass: A Tale of Two Demons. CH8: His Name is Zero

Chapter eight of A Tale of Two Demons. This chapter corresponds with episode four of the main series. Kallen and the others finally meet Zero, and they go and save Naoto. The Orange Incident still happens to Jeremiah. Ms. Kozuki almost takes Refrain.

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After Naoto was captured, he was taken to the maximum security prison, where he is being currently interrogated by Jeremiah Gottwald. “Do you know anything about this weapon, Naoto Stadtfeld?” Jeremiah asks the battered and bruised Naoto, indicating the sealed pistol on the table. “It was the one to rob Prince Clovis of his life, the barrel striations leave no doubt. And we’ve done a bit of homework on you as well.” Jeremiah continues. “You’re the eldest child of the Stadtfeld family. Halfblood in nature, your motive is unclear. However, the Prime Minister suspected you for the resistance in Shinjuku, and we can tie that back to the assassination of the prince.” He adds.

“You’re making a mistake. I’ve never even laid eyes on that gun. Or the Ambassador for that matter.” Naoto says. One of the guards in the room kicks the chair and causes it to fall. Naoto, in a restraining jacket, lands on his side, unable to move.

“We found your fingerprints all over this weapon.” Jeremiah says, holding the bagged pistol up. “Come clean now, and you would be judged as a pureblood, not some worthless Japanese.” He adds.

“I would rather die for Japan, than submit to the likes of you.” Naoto says. The other guard in the room then kicks Naoto’s head.

At the Ashford Academy clubhouse, Lelouch is preparing Nunnally for bed. “That was Kallen’s brother they mentioned on the news, wasn’t it?” Nunnally asks, as Lelouch lifts her out of her wheelchair and onto her bed.

“Yep. I wonder how the rest of his family is taking this?” Lelouch replies, tucking Nunnally in.

“Lelouch?” Nunnally asks.

“What is it?” Lelouch replies.

“It wasn’t true what the news said, was it?” Nunnally asks.

“Of course not. Naoto’s a soldier, I don’t think he would do any of the things mentioned on the news. They just made a mistake.”

“Yeah, must be.” Nunnally says, taking Lelouch’s hand into her hand before falling asleep.

“Goodnight, Nunnally.” Lelouch says. He then releases his hand from Nunnally’s and gets up, preparing to head out of the room. Once out of Nunnally’s room, Lelouch heads to his own. As the door opens, he sees C.C. holding his slightly damaged mask. “You better put that back before someone sees that.” Lelouch says, entering his room.

“I’m amazed that you went that far, Lelouch.” C.C. says, tossing the mask up and down. “So, now is when you use your power?” She asks.

“You gave me… us this power when we were ten. It’s been seven years, but now is the time to change everything.” Lelouch replies. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get that repaired.” He says, taking the mask from C.C.

“You know, there’s no turning back now.” C.C. says.

“That was never part of the plan.” Lelouch replies. He then places the mask inside the open suitcase, then closes the lid.

The next morning, principal Ashford prepares a speech to the entire school, mourning the loss of Prince Clovis. “Truly this has been a painful incident for all. Our beloved Prince Clovis, has been lost to us forever. However, we can and will bear the weight of this tragedy, and from this darkest of hours draw strength.” Principal Ashford says to the assembled students. As the speech ends, the students leave the gym and prepare to carry on with the rest of their day. As Suzaku leaves the gym, he sees Kallen seated near a pillar. “How’re you feeling, Kallen?” Suzaku asks as he approaches her.

Kallen looks up and sees Suzaku. “I’ve been better.” She replies, rubbing her eyes.

“Worried about Naoto, yes?” Suzaku asks, already knowing the answer. He sees Kallen nod her head. “You know, I can get you access to see your brother. What do you say.” Suzaku says, extending his hand to Kallen.

“Really, how? Kallen asks.

“I have my ways.” Suzaku replies. “So, how about it?” He asks.

“I’d like that, thank you, Suzaku.” Kallen replies, taking Suzaku’s hand. Suzaku then helps Kallen to her feet and they both leave the school grounds.

‘She better stay on schedule.’ Lelouch thinks as he sees the event going on. He then heads for the clubhouse and prepares for the next part of his plan.

At the prison where Naoto is being held, Kallen and Suzaku arrive, and are escorted by a Britannian guard to Naoto’s cell. “Stadtfeld, you have some visitors.” The guard says as he arrives at the cell. Naoto, on his knees, doesn’t look up until the guard leaves.

“Kallen.” Naoto says, surprised to see his sister. He then looks around and sees Suzaku. “Kururugi.” He says with some disdain.

“Suzaku, I heard that you arrived here.” Lloyd says, approaching the group. “There’s something I need to ask you.” He says.

“Can we talk in private, Lloyd.” Suzaku replies.

“Suzaku, how do you know this guy?” Kallen asks, looking at Suzaku and Lloyd.

“I… uh…” Suzaku starts, not knowing what to say.

“He works for me.” Lloyd replies.

“Yeah. That’s right.” Suzaku says.

“Really? Suzaku, why didn’t you tell us?” Kallen asks.

“It was so sudden. And besides, engineering isn’t anything to write home about.” Suzaku replies. “Let’s go, Lloyd.” He says, leaving Kallen with her brother.

“It isn’t true what the news said, is it?” Kallen asks, kneeling in front of the cell.

“Of course not.” Naoto replies. “I never wanted to start a war with Britannia. However, about Shinjuku, I was only following orders.” He adds.

“Weren’t we all.” Kallen adds.

“Not those orders. Tohdoh ordered my squad to evacuate Shinjuku, get all of the civilians out of the ghetto.” Naoto replies. “But we took it a bit further, by trying to get everyone out of the ghetto.” He adds. “I’m so sorry, Kallen. This might be the last time we ever see each other.”

“Don’t say that, Naoto.” Kallen cries. “There’s got to be a way to show that you’re innocent.” She adds.

“Let’s face it, Kallen. The Britannians want a scapegoat, and the Prime Minister sold me out.” Naoto replies. “Stay strong, Kallen. I’ll stay by your side after my trial.”

“Well, I’ve got somewhere to be.” Kallen says, getting up.

“Suzaku, Lord Jeremiah is going to lead an escort for his prisoner, and he wants you, or more importantly, Lancelot, to be present. I told him that I’d ask the pilot, and if you agree, he might induct you into the Britannian military.” Lloyd says as he and Suzaku leave the cells behind.

“Lloyd, I’m going to have to decline the offer.” Suzaku replies. “I don’t want my father to know I joined the Britannians. I’m even keeping it a secret from my friends.” He adds.

“Then I’ll relay the news to Jeremiah. It’s a shame, I wanted to showcase Lancelot.” Lloyd replies. “Maybe we’ll keep it for just field tests, so people don’t get too familiar with it.” He adds.

Kallen arrives at Tokyo Tower, a museum exhibiting Japan’s past and Britannia’s involvement in Japan’s present, just before four in the afternoon. ‘1600 hours at Tokyo Tower. Why here of all places?’ Kallen mentally says, as she looks around the museum.

“It was that masked guy that contacted us, wasn’t it?” One of Naoto’s resistance members says to Ohgi as he and one other member approach.

“Hard to say, but most likely.” Ohgi replies.

“He may have set up Naoto to get arrested. What’s stopping him from doing the same to us.” The other says.

“He helped us at Shinjuku, I don’t think he would set us up.” Ohgi replies.

“Even so, we could still be in danger here. We should go.” The first guy says. As he says this, the intercom goes off.

“Attention please. Paging Miss Kallen Stadtfeld of Ashford Academy. One of your personal effects has been turned in at the kiosk on the observation deck.” The voice over the says, then repeats the message. Ohgi and the others turn to see where Kallen was, and see that she’s already gone.

Kallen approaches the kiosk on the observation deck. The receptionist at the kiosk sees Kallen approach, and hands her a phone. “Hi, I’m assuming this phone is yours mam.” The receptionist says. Kallen then takes the black phone and looks at it angrily. “Something wrong? It is yours, isn’t?” She asks.

“Uh, yeah. Thank you so much.” Kallen replies, leaving the kiosk.

“Oh yeah, life’s better here, thanks to Britannia.” Ohgi says sarcastically as he and the others approach one of the binoculars on the observation deck. As Kallen approaches, she’s looking at the phone, which starts to buzz and vibrate.

“Zero?” Kallen says to herself as she sees the caller ID. She looks at the others before answering the cell phone. “Um, hello.” Kallen says, answering the phone.

“I want you board the outbound train on loop line five, and bring your friends.” The voice on the other side says.

“What?” Kallen replies

In Jeremiah’s office within the embassy, he is meeting with Diethard again. “You handled his highness’s memorial program very well. A little to weepy for my tastes, but.” Jeremiah says, facing the reporter.

“Yes, well the audiences tend to like tear jerkers, your excellency.” Diethard replies.

“Spoken like a true TV man.” Jeremiah says. “Still, I have to acknowledge the finess you’ve shown. You did well in the short time you had. One would almost think you were expecting his highness to meet his untimely end.” Jeremiah adds.

“It’s quite common for memorial programs to be set in advance for important people.” Diethard replies, giving a short, formal bow to the lords and lady present in the room.

“Does that include me as well?” Jeremiah asks, curious.

“Recent events may have bumped you up the list, your excellency.” Diethard replies. “However, with Princess Euphemia here, it’s not as much as you would think.”

“Regardless of that, I wasn’t deemed important enough until now. How forthright of you.” Jeremiah replies.

“I’m afraid so, sir.” Diethard replies.

“Ever thought of enlisting? The army could use more men like you.” Jeremiah says, giving Diethard and offer.

“I don’t think it would be a very good fit. Not really my cup of tea.” Diethard replies, rejecting the offer.

“You prefer the civil sector, I take it.” Jeremiah says, accepting the loss. “No matter, I have another favor to ask of you. Tomorrow night, Naoto Kozuki will be transferred to his court marshal.” Jeremiah adds, informing Diethard of the event.

“We should line the road with good, patriotic Britannians.” Diethard replies.

“Excellent, you catch on quickly, don’t you.” Jeremiah says, pleased. He then looks at Villetta, to his left. “Be sure the rabble can see his face.”

“Lord Jeremiah, there are those among the Japanese, terrorist or not, that would try to rescue Naoto.” Villetta says.

“I’ll be there personally, aboard my Sutherland. If anyone thinks about causing trouble, they’ll be executed on the spot.” Jeremiah replies.

At the Japanese military base in Tokyo, the high ranking officers are in a heated discussion. “Genbu has gone too far this time. Naoto was just following orders, and he only did what he did out of self defense.” Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe says.

“Even then, he was to aid the Britannians.” Lieutenant Colonel Tohdoh says. “I don’t like it as much as you do, Kusakabe, but Naoto disobeyed orders from his superiors.”

“Tohdoh, I know he’s half blood, but he is loyal to Japan.” Major General Katase says. “If we are all loyal to Japan, then we should do what is best for our nation.” He adds.

“Then we get the soldiers loyal to Japan, and free our beloved country from Britannia and its corruption.” Kusakabe says.

“I agree, Kusakabe. We would be well stocked with supplies, and we’d be the largest group to oppose Kururugi and Britannia.” Katase replies.

“What about you, Tohdoh? We know that you are loyal to Kururugi, but where does your true loyalty lie, with Japan or with that corrupt man.” Kusakabe says.

“My loyalty will always be to Japan. However, Kururugi will need to prove that he no longer deserves my loyalty. Then, and only then, will you have me and The Four Holy Swords.” Tohdoh replies.

“It’s good to know we’re on the same page, Tohdoh.” Katase replies. “I look forward to having you among our ranks soon, Tohdoh.” He adds.

On the train that the voice told Kallen and the others to board, Kallen is looking at the phone that was given to her. Kallen quickly answers the phone as soon as it begins to buzz again. “What now?” Kallen whispers. Ohgi looks at Kallen as he hears her on the phone.

“Face forward and look to your right, what do you see?” The voice asks.

“The Britannian city. It was stolen away from us, and corrupted for the sake of peace.” Kallen replies.

“And on the left?” The voice says.

“I see our city. Remnants of a desiccated city after the Britannians and the Kururugi administration sucked it dry.” Kallen replies.

“Good answer.” The voice says, pleased at Kallen’s responses. “Now make your way to the front of the train.” The voice says, hanging up. Ohgi watches as Kallen moves towards the next car, and signals for the others to follow. As they progress to the next car, they weave between a crowd, that doesn’t care about being bumped into. As they reach the next car after the crowed, they see a figure clad in a black cloak.

“Was it you, on the phone?” Kallen asks as she sees the person in front of her.

“It’s him.” Ohgi says, recognizing the cloaked figure from the other day.

“Well, was that you in Shinjuku? Was that ceasefire your doing?” Kallen demands.

“Hey, we’re talking to you.” One of the others says, angrily. The figure begins to turns around, and once he is fully turned around facing the four, the cabin goes dark as the trail enters a tunnel.

“What do you think of my tour of the Settlement?” The masked man asks.

“Your tour?” Ohgi replies.

“I wanted you to fully grasp the two.” The masked man continues. “The Settlement.” He says, moving his left arm out from underneath his cloak. “And the ghetto.” He says, moving his right arm in the same manner.

“Yeah, we know. There’s a difference between us and them.” Ohgi says, moving forwards a few steps. “A harsh one, and that’s why we resist them.”

“You’re wrong.” The masked man says. “Your goal is misguided, Britannia will not fall to terrorism.” He says, putting more emphasis on Britannia.

“Britannia?” Ohgi asks.

“It’s little better than childish nuisance.” The cloaked man says.

“What was that? You calling us a bunch of kids.” One of the others says angrily.

“You should know your enemy. It is not people, or Japan, but Britannia itself. It is a war you must wage, but not on the innocent. Take up your sword, fight for justice.” Lelouch says.

“Oh, please. That’s all easy enough to say, isn’t it, hiding behind that mask? Why should we even trust you?” Kallen shouts.

“Yeah, she’s right! Lose the mask!” One of the others shouts.

“Right, are you going to finally show us your face or not.” Ohgi says.

“Very well, I’ll show you. But rather than my face, bear witness to my power.” The masked man replies. “If I can deliver to you the impossible, then I might have earned your trust.” Lelouch says.

Later that evening in Shinjuku Ghetto, Zero waits for the members of the resistance group to meet with him. In the distance, he sees only Kallen and Ohgi approaching. ‘They’re not all willing to trust me. Fine, I’ll make do with them.’ Lelouch mentally says. “I see, just you two then.” Zero says.

“I’m sorry, we just need a little more time. If more people understood what we…” Ohgi starts to say, but is interrupted by Zero.

“No, the two of you will do just fine.” Zero says.

“Come on, that’s ridiculous. There’ll be too many of them.” Kallen shouts.

“With your help, clearing the task will be child’s play.” Zero replies. “I’ll need these by tomorrow.” He says, presenting two pictures, one Prince Clovis’s car, the other a gas capsule. “All that matters is the exterior.” Kallen and Ohgi then take the photos and begin to work on the props.

The next night, the night of Naoto’s escort, the news is broadcasting everything live for the public to see. “Any moment, any moment now. It’s a sight to see, the throngs lining the route, all of them waiting on baited breath.” A reported announces. “Waiting for the accused murderer of Prince Clovis to pass by. Corporal Naoto Stadtfeld, a Britannian enlisted in the Japanese military.”

In a news van on the scene, Diethard is directing the cameras, wanting to get the best shots. “Camera 5 is a bit slow, talk to me Charles, your team been deployed yet?” Diethard says as he watched the camera feed in the van. “What, the studio? Let’em wait. Nothing’s been pushed back, everything’s going according to plan.” He says, pressing the camera team to get into position. “Here we go.” Diethard says, as he expects the escort to to crest the hill soon.

“I… I can see them. They have the suspect. Naoto Stadtfeld is headed this way.” The announcer says upon seeing the escort arrive.

“Like clockwork.” Diethard says. He then turns off his mic. “What a circus this is, and I’m as corrupt as any of them.” He says to himself.

“Voices of scorn, growing ever louder. Voices bearing testament to a people’s love of their Prince, raining their judgement down on a terrorist.” The announcer says.

In the Stadtfeld Manor, Ms. Kozuki is in her quarters listening to the radio. “Naoto.” She says. She then opens a drawer in her nightstand and takes out a small case. “Naoto, forgive me.” She says to herself, as she takes out a small, brown, glass vial. She then inserts the vial into the injection device, and sets it to her arm. However she doesn’t pull the trigger, wanting to hear the full event, before taking the plunge.

“Margrave Jeremiah. Integral in settling this case, will be presiding over the trial as acting console.” The announcer says.

In the ghetto, the members who didn’t join Zero in the rescue, watch as the event takes place. “No way they can pull this off on their own.” Tamaki says

In a knightmare stationed below the bridge of the escort, Ohgi is waiting for his queue. ‘He told us. He said he’d make the impossible possible.’ Ohgi mentally says. ‘He gave us his word. To save Naoto Kozuki, my friend and our leader.’ He adds.

“Right, no need to turn back, the die is cast.” Lelouch says, as he prepares for his grand performance.

“Acting console Jeremiah.” A soldier says over the radio.

“What is it?” Jeremiah asks.

“Vehicle approaching the highway from third. We just let it through, as you instructed, but…” The soldier reports.

“Do you believe the target could be a terrorist vehicle?” Jeremiah asks the soldier.

“Well, sir… It’s Prince Clovis’s car.” The soldier replies.

“The Prince’s car.” Jeremiah says, surprised to hear this. “Well, looks like we’ve got a comedian. Don’t worry about it, just him through to us.” He adds. “All forces, halt here.” Jeremiah says, signaling for the convoy to stop.

“Hey, they stopped. They really did.” One of the resistance members says as he watches the event, knowing what Zero said would happen.

“It’s just a coincidence.” Takami says, skeptically.

“Yeah, but he said Jeremiah would try to hog all the limelight and make some sort of stand about it.” Another member says.

“Coincidence!” Tamaki shouts.

“This is not a scheduled stop, could there have been some sort of accident?” The announcer says, trying to understand the situation.

“This is sight five. There’s a vehicle approaching them.” One of the camera teams reports. “It… It’s Prince Clovis’s personal transport. And it’s heading straight for the cavalcade” He adds.

“What the. He’s heading straight at them.” Ohgi says, watching the news feed within his knightmare. “What’s he planning?”

‘Hope they can’t tell it’s fake.’ Kallen mentally says as she drives the makeshift vehicle towards the Britannians.

“You dare desecrate his highness’s transport.” Jeremiah says as the vehicle approaches and stops a distance away. “Come out of there!” He shouts. As he says this, the Britannian flag above the driver quickly bursts into flame and disappears, revealing the masked man who killed Clovis. “It’s him.” Jeremiah says to himself.

“I am… Zero.” Zero says, once he’s revealed.

“Zero?” Villetta says, confused. “You’re making this a little too easy for us, aren’t you.” She says to herself

“Who… Who is this person, this man calling himself Zero, standing in front of a full military convoy?” The announcer reports as the event is happening.

At Ashford Academy, Rivalz, Shirley, Milly, and Nina are watching the news, and Nunnally is in her room listening to the radio. “What is all this?” Rivalz says, shocked at the sudden event.

In Ms. Kozuki’s room, at the Stadtfeld Manor, she removes the injector from her arm and focuses on the radio. “Please, save my son. Save Naoto, Zero.” She says, pleading at the radio.

In Shinjuku, all the resistance members are shocked at Zero’s bold move. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?” Tamaki says, confused.

In the news van, Diethard is watching the footage from all of the camera angles. “Zero? What do you mean, like nothing.” He says to himself

“Are we gazing on a terrorist? Certainly not the wisest, if such is the case.” The announcer continues.

‘Is he the one from Shinjuku? Is he Japanese?’ Naoto mentally says, knowing if he said a word, the collar around his neck would shock him.

‘Now to earn your trust, Naoto.’ Lelouch mentally says.

“I’ve seen enough, Zero. This little show of yours is over.” Jeremiah says, firing his pistol in the air. As he shoots, several airborne transports drop their knightmares around Zero. “First things first, why don’t you lose that mask. Show the world who the true assassin is.” Jeremiah says. Zero then places his hand close to his mask, but instead of removing his mask, Zero moves his hand above his head and snaps his fingers. As he snaps, the structure behind him falls apart, revealing a large gas capsule. “What in the…” Jeremiah says, shocked to see the capsule.

“Jeremiah, be careful, that’s a gas capsule.” Villetta shouts, emerging from her knightmare.

‘Yes, Jeremiah, that’s what I want you to believe.’ Lelouch mentally says. ‘You can’t tell it’s fake from there, so you assume it holds poison gas.’

“Can all of you watching at home see this. It’s some sort of device, although its purpose is unclear. Stay with us, and we’ll see if this so called terrorist has anything to say.” The announcer reports.

“You bastard.” Jeremiah says to himself. “He’s taken every Britannian here hostage, and he’s done it without them even knowing it.” He adds. He then aims his weapon at Zero.

“You intend to shoot.” Zero says, seeing the weapon aimed at him. “I think you know full well what would happen if you fire your weapon at me.” He adds.

In the news van, Diethard is listening to the event before him, but is displeased with his crew. “Unit six, bring up the sound and get that camera right in his face.” He orders the camera crew.

“Sir, it’s too hairy out here.” One of the crew members replies.

“Amateurs!” Diethard says, frustrated. He then grabs his own camera and leaves the van.

“Fine! What are your demands?” Jeremiah says, lowering his weapon.

“This, for Stadtfeld.” Zero demands.

“Like hell!” Jeremiah replies. “We might not be able to convict him of assassination, but he led the attack in Shinjuku. I can’t hand him over.” Jeremiah adds.

“You are right, Jeremiah, Naoto Stadtfeld is not the assassin you are looking for. And you are also wrong. The real culprit…” Zero says. He then looks down as he see a cameraman approach. “Is myself.” He adds, looking straight into the camera.

“What… What does this mean? This masked man called Zero, no we don’t know who he is. But in any case, he claims to be the real assassin.” The announcer reports. “So, where does this leave the current suspect, Corporal Stadtfeld?”

“Ah, crap! There’s no way out of this!” Ohgi exclaims, fearing what might happen next.

“We are so screwed.” Kallen says to herself.

“For a single Japanese, you’ll save scores of precious Britannians.” Zero says. “I find that to be a bargain.” He adds.

‘This is all one big performance to him.’ Diethard says in awe of Zero.

“He’s mad I tell you. Disguising this truck as his highness’s, he’ll pay the price for mocking the crown.” Jeremiah says. The knightmares around Zero aim, preparing to fire.

“Careful! You don’t wish the public to learn of ‘orange’ do you?” Zero says. All the soldiers aiming at him lower their weapons in confusion, although none more confused than Jeremiah himself.

“Orange? What’s he talking about” One of the soldiers near Naoto asks the other.

“I don’t know.” The other replies. Zero then taps his heel twice on the top of the truck, and Kallen moves the vehicle closer to the knightmares.

“If I die, it will all go public.” Zero says. “If you don’t want that to happen.” He adds.

“What are you talking about? What is this?” Jeremiah says, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Then you’ll do everything in your power to let us go. Your prisoner as well.” Zero says, activating his geass and opening the eye port in the mask, using his geass on Jeremiah.

“Right, understood.” Jeremiah complies, affected by Lelouch’s geass. “You there, release the prisoner.” Jeremiah orders the soldiers with Naoto. Kallen gasps in surprise as Jeremiah follows through with the demand.

“What on Earth are you doing, my lord?” Villetta says, shocked at Jeremiah’s actions.

“Get that man over here.” Jeremiah says to the soldiers.

“Should we?” One of the soldiers says.

“But…” The other adds.

“Hand him over. Nobody gets in his way.” Jeremiah orders.

“No, what are you thinking? You can’t do this.” Kewell says, facing Jeremiah.

“Lord Kewell, this is an order.” Jeremiah replies.

“It’s hard to tell what’s happening from here, but it seems that Stadtfeld’s release has been brokered.” The announcer reports.

Naoto is then escorted to the ground and at the same time Zero makes his way to the ground as well. Naoto looks at Zero, trying to figure out who he could be. Zero sees the collar around Naoto’s neck. “As I thought, they didn’t allow you to speak.” Zero says. Naoto nods, then sees the driver approaching. Underneath the bridge, Ohgi activates his knightmare preparing for the next part of the plan.

“If they get away, we’ll lose everything.” Villetta says, getting back into her knightmare.

“It’s time to go, Zero.” Kallen says, standing next to Zero.

“Well then, until next time.” Zero says, pulling out a remote button. Once he pushed the button, the gas capsule activates and releases is content. The crowd screams and flees from the gas.

“You cowardly terrorist!” Villetta shouts, preparing to fire. As she fires at Zero, Jeremiah knocks Villetta’s gun up and she fires up to the sky. “Lord Jeremiah, what are you…” She asks in surprise.

“You heard me, stand down!” Jeremiah shouts. As he deals with Villetta, Zero and Kallen jump off the bridge with Naoto.

“They’re not alone at all! They jumped right off!” Kewell says. Seeing them leap from the bridge as the smoke clears. Ohgi sees them jump and fires two cables with a tarp between then to the wall he’s facing. “It worked! Now we can…” Ohgi shouts in excitement as he watches the three land safely into the train car, but his excitement is cut short when he is being shot at by one of the Britannians, forcing him to eject.

“You imbecile, there’s nowhere for you to run!” Lord Kewell shouts.

“Lord Kewell! Are you going to follow orders or not, and believe me, there will be repercussions.” Jeremiah says, pointing his knightmare’s firearm at Kewell. “All units, do I make myself clear! Do everything in your power to help them get away!” He shouts.

In Shinjuku Ghetto, Kallen and Ohgi are talking with the others while Naoto is speaking privately with Zero. “Man, I didn’t think he could really do it.” One of the resistance members says.

“I know. Beating Tamaki is one thing, but what he did tonight.” Another member says.

“I thought I told you guys never to mention that again!” Tamaki shouts. “Besides, how many times is a bluff like that going to work anyways.”

“You got to give the guy some credit though.” Ohgi says.

“Huh?” Tamaki says.

“Got to admit it, nobody could have pulled that off. Not the Japanese military, certainly not me. I don’t think even Naoto could have pulled it off if it were one of us up there.” Ohgi explains. “We all thought a full on war with Britannia was a suicide mission. But maybe with him, we could do it.” He adds. Kallen then looks towards the door where Zero and Naoto are speaking.

“It looks like they treated you rather roughly.” Zero says to Naoto, seeing the physical state he’s in. “Now you know what they’re really like, Corporal Kozuki.” He adds. “Britannia is rotten, more so than even Japan. If you wish to bring change to this world, then join me.

“So, is it true? Are you the one who really killed the ambassador?” Naoto asks, intrigued.

“I am.” Zero replies. “My first move against Britannia has shown that they are not as strong as they think they are. Things will change soon, and the battle ahead will only get more difficult.” Zero continues.

“And the gas? Those were civilians out there. Although Britannian, they were innocent.” Naoto asks.

“A bluff, to help things along. The result, not a single death.” Zero replies.

“The result? That’s all that matters to you, I suppose.” Naoto says.

“Come join me, and we can free Japan from Britannia and itself.” Zero says, extending his right arm to Naoto.

“Now listen here, Zero. This is my squad you’re using, and I have final say as to whether or not we join you and your cause. You even have my sister involved in this mess.” Naoto retorts. He then turns around and walks away from Zero.

“Wait, where are you going?” Zero asks.

“My court martial begins in an hour.” Naoto replies, not stopping to look at Zreo.

“Are you mad! The only reason they’re giving you a trial is to find you guilty. The judge, the prosecution, and defense!” Zero shouts, trying to convince Naoto not to go. ‘I will not use my geass on him. I need to earn his trust naturally.’ Lelouch mentally says.

“Rules are rules. And if I don’t go, think of what would happen to others in my position.” Naoto says, stopping.

“But you’ll die!” Zero shouts.

“Not anymore, thanks to you. The worst that can happen to me now is that I get dishonorably discharged from active service. Then, I might reconsider your offer.” Naoto replies.

“Dishonorably discharged.” Zero says. “You’ve thought this through, Kozuki. Oh, you might be needing this.” Zero adds. Naoto turns around and sees Zero pull out his phone. Zero then tosses Naoto’s phone towards him, and he catches it.

“I thought I lost this.” Naoto says, seeing his phone. “Until next time, Zero.” Naoto says leaving the ruined building.

In Ms. Kozuki’s room in the Stadtfeld Manor, she has set the injector on her nightstand, and is crying in joy. “Oh, thank you, Zero. Thank you for saving my Naoto.” She says.

“Yes, apparently Corporal Stadtfeld has made contact with the authorities. It would seem this ‘Zero’ has released him. However, now that the original charges against him have been thrown into question, it’s very possible Stadtfeld would be found innocent and acquitted, with the risk of being discharged from the military.” Another announcer reports.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Ms. Kozuki says, sighing in relief. She then sets the injector into its case and puts it back into the drawer in her nightstand.