Shipping Docks
The Black Knights were preparing their Knightmares for the assault to aid the JLF, but something was off. Parked beside them, in gaudy, weapon-laden dropships, stood the Dreadnoks—Cobra's most violent, undisciplined mercenaries.
The contrast couldn't be starker.
While the Black Knights checked calibrations with precision and quiet focus, the Dreadnoks tuned up their rigs like they were heading to a demolition derby. One casually painted "No Rest for the Wicked" on the side of his Knightmare. Another sharpened a serrated machete while whistling.
These weren't comrades-in-arms. They were wolves in a blood frenzy.
Inside a nearby container office, Zero sat on a steel crate, a towel draped over his head. The door opened with a hiss of hydraulics. Two men entered—commanders of the Dreadnoks:
Buzzer.
Torch.
Zero didn't look up. "Logan told you who I am, didn't he?"
"Yeah," Buzzer replied, arms crossed. "You're the prodigy with the mask. But don't worry—we're not in the business of leaking secrets. Not unless Logan says so."
Torch, lighting a cigar with his palm-mounted arc igniter, snorted. "You're lucky you're on our side. Most mercs would sell you to Britannia for a crate of Cobra Munitions."
Zero removed the towel, revealing his sharp eyes. "That's why I'm cautious. You serve Cobra. Cobra serves no one but itself."
Torch chuckled. "Damn right. But Logan wants Britannia bled, and you're doing a fine job of it. He's invested in you."
Zero narrowed his eyes. "For now."
Just then, the door swung open. Kallen stepped in, tense, arms folded.
"I assume these two are the infamous Dreadnok leaders," she said, voice sharp.
"That we are, sweetie," Buzzer said with a grin, ignoring the warning in her tone.
Torch looked her up and down. "Logan wasn't wrong—your people fight with heart. Shame that's not always enough."
Kallen ignored him, eyes fixed on Zero. "Are you sure about this, Zero? We fight for justice. They fight for coin and carnage."
Zero stood, walking past the two Dreadnoks.
"Justice needs weapons, Kallen. Even unpredictable ones."
Nightfall – Mobile Assault Boats, Offshore
The strike force hovered silently beneath the waves. Black Knights stood ready. But on one transport, music blasted—hard rock with Cobra-themed lyrics.
A Knightmare cockpit lit up—DJ, the Dreadnoks' battlefield disc jockey, exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"Cut the damn music! We're trying to coordinate here!" a Black Knight yelled over the comms.
"Pipe down," DJ replied, grinning. "Some of us like to kill with rhythm."
Buzzer's voice came through, amused. "Heh. DJ's vibing. Let the man cook."
Zero cut through the banter. "All units, prepare to surface. Remember—Cornelia must be captured alive. I want her breathing, not burning."
Torch chimed in. "You heard the boss, Dreadnoks. Kill everything but the royal."
Their Knightmares hummed—top-of-the-line Cobra gear, customized with brutal melee systems, shockwave emitters, and chemical dispensers banned under international law.
The JLF's ship came into view—followed immediately by a Britannian ambush. Explosions lit up the harbor. Screams echoed across the waves.
"Why aren't we engaging?" Ohgi asked.
Zero checked his timer. "Because we're not supposed to yet."
As Britannian soldiers boarded the JLF transport, Zero activated a remote. A bomb detonated—killing half the invading force in an instant.
On a private Cobra channel, Buzzer laughed. "Showtime, boys."
DJ blasted a new track, cueing the launch.
"Dreadnoks and Black Knights—attack!" Zero ordered.
The sea erupted as stealth pods launched from below, smashing into the docks. Cobra-modified Knightmares roared onto the field like apex predators.
Chaos Incarnate
The Dreadnoks didn't just fight. They hunted.
One ripped open a Britannian cockpit and yanked the pilot free, smashing him against a shipping container. Blood spattered like paint.
Another used a magnetic whip to drag three enemy suits into a minefield, laughing as they detonated.
Kallen, piloting the Guren, cut down a squad—but glanced warily at the Dreadnoks. Their cruelty rivaled Britannia's.
"Jesus…" she muttered, watching one crush a wounded enemy like an insect.
Torch torched a trench of Britannian soldiers, flames licking into their cockpits.
"They call us terrorists?" he shouted.
Buzzer's chainsaw tore through metal and flesh. "Cornelia's still breathing! Let's go pluck the bitch!"
Cornelia entered the fray herself, cutting down several Dreadnoks with brutal efficiency.
Zero's Knightmare slammed into her from behind, locking her down. She tore off one of his arms, but he pressed forward.
Kallen disabled her weapon with the Guren, locking her movements.
"We have her!" Zero confirmed.
Cornelia growled, helpless.
Buzzer strolled up, planting his Knightmare's boot on hers. "Aww. The God of Victory reduced to scrap."
He raised his chainsaw near her helmet.
"You scream like your sister?" he sneered.
"Try it," she spat. "And Euphemia will have your head."
Buzzer laughed. "Cute. But Logan wants you alive. So you're lucky I follow orders."
Suddenly—Lancelot arrived. It ripped into the battlefield like a meteor.
Zero's Knightmare was knocked aside.
Cornelia used the opening to disable Torch's flamethrower.
"For Narita!" she screamed.
Lancelot engaged Buzzer. The two clashed in a fury of sparks and steel.
"This ain't no G.I. Joe tech, but it'll do," Buzzer grunted. "Let's see what that toy of yours can handle."
But Lancelot outmaneuvered him—slicing through his joint servos and leaping toward Zero's downed Knightmare.
Zero ejected—but was shot mid-air. His escape pod crashed near the docks.
"Boss!!" Buzzer roared.
The Docks
Buzzer arrived to find two civilians—Shirley and a wounded woman—near the wreck.
The girl screamed, pointing a pistol. Buzzer barely flinched. "Wrong move, princess," he muttered. But he didn't shoot.
"Logan's gonna chew me out for this…"
He dragged the woman's body to cover, hid it behind crates, and checked Zero—alive.
Then he saw her.
A green-haired woman stood calmly nearby. She had no weapon. Just presence.
He pointed his chainsaw. "Who the hell are you?"
She didn't flinch. "You're more disciplined than I expected, Buzzer. Letting a witness go? Logan would be surprised."
The name froze him.
She smiled. "You call him Logan. Most still call him Cobra Commander. But you—you're old enough to remember his real name."
He stepped forward, furious. "You know way too much."
"I know what matters. I also know he should be informed—immediately."
Growling, Buzzer tapped his encrypted line. "Zartan… we've got a problem."
The Next Morning – Cobra Headquarters
"SON OF A BITCH!!" Zartan slammed his fist on the table, rattling data pads and Cobra tech manuals.
"We've kept Logan's identity buried for years! Who the hell is this girl?!"
Cobra Commander sat silently. The black helmet reflected the cold light of the war room.
"She saw Zero," Baroness said. "Her name is Shirley Fenette. Student at Ashford. Student council. Emotionally connected to Lelouch."
Zartan snarled. "We kill her. Problem solved."
"No," Dr. Mindbender replied. "Lelouch is still useful. We can't afford a rebellion from within. Not yet."
Cobra Commander finally spoke. His voice, robotic and deep: "I'll speak to her. If she wants silence, she'll be paid. If she wants vengeance—"
Zartan raised an eyebrow. "What if she wants the truth?"
Baroness answered, "Then we lie."
Narita – Train Station
Cobra Commander stepped from a black transport car, Zartan shadowing him with a long-range sniper drone in tow.
The wind was cold. Quiet.
They followed a trail to a lookout point near a small shrine.
Lelouch stood with Shirley.
Another man—a silver-haired stranger—smirked from the shadows.
"Well, well. Logan himself, slumming it among the peasants," he said.
Cobra froze.
"Mao," Lelouch said quietly.
The man clapped mockingly. "Brother dearest. Or should I say Commander? Logan, prince of shadows. You staged it all, didn't you?"
Cobra's hands curled into fists.
"You didn't kill Shirley's father yourself. But Zartan did. On your order."
Shirley stepped back, trembling.
Cobra stepped forward.
"You read minds," he said coldly. "Then you already know how this ends."
He lunged—striking Mao with armored fists. Over and over.
Blood flew.
Zartan watched from the ridge. "Target acquired. Say the word, Commander."
But Cobra ignored him. He wasn't just killing Mao. He was silencing a piece of his past.
As Mao crumpled, Cobra leaned in.
"Next time you speak my name... make sure it's not the last word out of your mouth."