[FFML] [Death Note/Code Geass] 0: Change the World, Chapter 1

[Chad Yang]

Disclaimer:
All works belong to their rightful owners.
A fair knowledge of both the involved series is necessary.

***

2007 15 October
Winchester, UK

"Two conditions," said the eight-year-old. "Agree to them and I'll
take you up on your offer."

"Name them," said Roger.

"In one week, the burnt bodies of Lelouch and Nunnally vi Britannia
will be found floating in the Thames by the London Metropolitan Police
Service. The proprietors of the Ashford Foundation shall be informed
the day after that one Nunnally Lamperouge is to be transferred to
their care."

Roger placed the insect display he had been examining back on its shelf.

"You understand that the fabrication of records and evidence is a
crime?" asked Roger. "If you so request, we could instead aid the
Scotland Yard's investigations into the circumstances of the Duchess
Marianne vi Britannia's assassination."

"I reserve that right to myself. Surely it is within the power of your
organization to fulfill these two conditions?"

The projector screen at the back of the room lit up. At its center,
the letter W appeared in gothic face.

"I acknowledge your conditions," said a digitally modified voice. "You
are authorized to carry out the young man's requests, Mister Ruvie."

Roger sighed.

"I'll get to it immediately," he said in a resigned tone.

"Mister Lamperouge," continued the distorted voice. "I am afraid that
your self-chosen pseudonym may compromise the security of our
organization. I have taken the liberty to assign you a new one. Is
this to your agreement?"

"If it's necessary, fine," said the boy.

"From this day on, you shall be known as Zero," said the voice. "I
welcome you to the Wammy's House Institute."

===================
0: Change the World
A DN x CG Crossover
      by Fallacies

Stage 01:
 The Day
 that Death
     was Born
===================

2007 24 October
London, UK

Not for the first time, Jeremiah wondered who exactly the chief
coroner was attempting to impress with her low-cut top and exposed
midriff. He could appreciate a pretty woman, but barring necrophilia,
the morgue was no place for a normal man to be looking for specimens
of the fairer sex.

"Did you confirm the identities of the floaters before SO11 relieved
you of them?"

"The men on top don't like people poking around in anything reassigned
to Section Eleven, Detective Gottwald," said the Indian woman,
exhaling a puff of smoke. "And what would that pretty young thing of
yours say if she found out that you were having a midnight date with
another woman?"

"My relationship with Detective Nu is strictly professional, doctor.
Please don't change the subject."

The woman stared at him for a moment before dumping the contents of
the pipe into the ashtray beside her seat.

"You're not going to give up, are you?" she asked.

"It's a matter of duty."

"Fine, fine," she said, standing up. "Right this way."

---

Jeremiah hadn't had a reason to visit the Medical Forensics Office in
person for at least a year, but it seemed no less cluttered than he
could recall.

"How do you find anything in here?"

"During office hours, Little Miss Mustard-Goes-With-Anything is the
one in charge of the finding of things," said the woman, flipping
through a stack of files. "And I'm sure you know that the vast
majority of my write-ups are submitted directly to the the HOLMES 2."

"Didn't see anything when I looked on the network. That's why I came to you."

"Presumably the Elevens pulled the records when they took the
materials off my hands. I recall leaving a hard copy around here
somewhere, though."

A few stacks later, the woman handed Jeremiah two manila folders.
Sitting down and opening the first, he scanned through pages within.

"No DNA matching?"

"The spooks got here before we could process that. Blokes down in
Odontology told me that the mutilation to the jaws were too extensive
to get a positive ID on either of them. Despite the burning and the
decay, we did manage to place the boy at eight years of age and the
girl at roughly four or five."

Jeremiah frowned.

"For the good news," said the coroner, "you might want to flip to the
last page."

Jeremiah did so, and then his frown deepened further. He wasn't overly
familiar with the medical aspects of C-Link Tagging, but academy had
taught him enough of its practical use -- it was a nanoscale RFID tag
mandatorily injected into spinal fluid, made of a substance known as
sakuradite. A simple handheld device hovered over the spinal cord
could identify the name, bloodtype, and known allergies of all
individuals registered with the International Health Database --
citizens of any member state of the WHO. It was a godsend for airport
security services everywhere.

"Surprised the nanites weren't destroyed in the fire," said Jeremiah.

"If they weren't so durable, they wouldn't be of any use. We can only
be thankful that the killers didn't think to perform a nanite purge.
They're the only confirmation we have of the identities of the two
children. "

"Can the tags be forged?"

"It would take somebody with a lot of connections to pull it off."

"This isn't good news, you know."

"I know."

---

Stepping out into the night air, Jeremiah took a deep breath to clear
his nostrils of the smell of disinfectant. The harvest moon hung above
London like a great big orange.

"I'm sorry, Miss Marianne," he said softly. "I believe I might have
found your children."

***

2007 9 October
Salisbury, UK

"What are the damages wrought by the good doctor?" drawled the man
standing at the window.

"The Rosenberg Institute has been liquidated. As of nine forty-three
PM yesterday, all past and present members of the primary laboratory
staff simultaneously suffered heart-attacks. Five facilities burned to
the ground, and all critical files have either been purged or
destroyed. There's nothing left that's of any use."

"I'm assuming Aspirus destroyed both of the Notebook prototypes?"

"Seeing as they represent his magnum opus, I doubt that he's
emotionally capable. They went missing when he disappeared."

"Can we replicate C-Link nanocommunications without him?"

"Rather unfortunately, no. Aspirus single-handedly pioneered the use
of the geomagnetic field as a noiseless broadcast medium. There simply
isn't anyone qualified enough to replace him. From scratch, I'm
guessing it would take us a decade or two just to build a rudimentary
copy of his transmitter."

The man sipped his glass, and then swirled about its contents.

"How are things going with the Directorate, then?"

"Eight senior officers were found shot, and the Records Department has
been sabotaged. There were only a few casualties amongst the
Irregulars, but that isn't much of a surprise. The security videos
we've recovered from the Larkhill complex suggest that Director
Shirayuki may have been working in collaboration with your late wife.
We believe she had a role in Aspirus' escape."

"Any other accomplices you've identified thus far?"

"None."

The sun slowly descended behind the city skyline in the distance.

"Marianne was too upright. Too competent," said the man, capturing the
last of the light in his half-empty wineglass. "I should have seen her
moral center for the risk that it posed."

"Too late to cry over spilled blood, Charles. You always were a bad
judge of character."

"Do you know where Aspirus is?"

"He passed through customs in Japan with forged paperwork and an
edited C-Link ID about twelve hours ago. We're watching the airports,
but there's no guarantee that he won't find another means of
transportation. Might take a few days to track him down."

"Who's leading the dispatch?"

"Luke Mortimer of Section Eleven. He's not an Irregular, but there
wasn't anyone else with the necessary skills that we could spare on
such short notice."

"Authorize the use of force if Aspirus refuses to cooperate, brother.
We can't afford another setback to the Goetterdaemmerung."

***

2007 13 October
Tokyo, Japan

Crouched behind a cement slide at the edge of the playground, Bartley
Aspirus kept his bandaged hand clamped about the mouth of a small boy.
A silenced gunshot put a hole into a plastic bench nearby.

"They say that an apple a day keeps the doctor away," said a voice in
the distance. "Seeing as I'm eating an apple right now, it's pretty
clear that this bit of folk knowledge holds no truth. You just can't
get enough of me, can you, Doctor?"

Bartley looked the boy in the eyes.

"There's a bad man over there with a gun," he whispered in accented
Japanese. "I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth. If you make
any noise, he'll find us and kill us both. This is not a game. Do you
understand?"

Uncharacteristically calm, the boy nodded. Bartley removed his hand.
Doing his best to ignore the pain from his injuries, he silently
retrieved the Notebook from his bag and opened the cover, booting the
device out of passive. The cellphone photograph he had taken of
gunman's face twenty minutes ago appeared on the display, overlaid by
a three-dimensional polygon outline. In an empty text field labeled
"Name," Bartley typed in "Luke Mortimer" and clicked the "Execute"
button beneath. A prompt appeared at the center of the screen: "Facial
structure extrapolation submitted to database."

A second gunshot broke the see-saw.

"Let me give you a bit of advice before we continue with our little
game of hide-and-seek," said Luke. "The truth that the apple tree
shared with Newton is absolute, Doctor. Everything falls."

The Notebook couldn't schedule a heart-stopper transmission without
the C-Link node address of the intended victim's nanites. It would
take perhaps thirty seconds to a minute for the system Bartley had
built into the groundwork of the International Health Database to
return an address match for Luke Mortimer's name and face -- a
time-consuming process that could have been avoided if his short-range
address scanner hadn't been damaged. He needed to create a
distraction. Closing the device, he handed it to the boy.

"Stay here and keep this safe," he whispered. "Don't say anything."

Scrambling out from behind the slide, Bartley made a break for the
jungle gym a few meters away. A bullet clipped his leg before he could
get behind the metal panel. With a cry, he stumbled and fell.

"Per my orders from the Home Office, I intended originally to bring
you in unharmed," said the gunman with a sneer, throwing aside the
eaten core of his apple. "I'm afraid that whatever you've done to my
subordinates has rendered that option quite impossible."

Bartley was dragged by the collar into uncomfortably close proximity
with the man's pale, misshapen face. Between the bulging eyes, the
dark lipstick, and the black leather getup, it was difficult for him
imagine that man before him could be an officer of any kind of law
enforcement.

"I'll give you an apple if you tell me how took out all of my men,"
said Luke, putting the end of his pistol's silencer to Bartley's
temple.

"An angel of death did it."

"Wrong answer," replied Luke, pulling the trigger.

---

Standing before the bodies of the two dead men, Yagami Light opened
the cover of the laptop. On the screen, a new prompt had appeared.

"Execution complete. Subject [Luke Mortimer] is now deceased."