Harare, Zimbabwe - July 1983
"Ya know, when most girls ask a gentleman out, they usually pick somewhere less... volatile." Arsenal said with a smirk, stepping over the dead bodies as he walked into the alleyway to sit with his old master. "What's up?"
The thousand-year old girl smiled as she held his hand, a very unusual sign of affection from her. "I'm dying Arse." She said, taking some pleasure at his reflex wince.
That ruined his smile. "You want me to take he Code." He said.
"You had a long time to play with your little toy." She explained. "A lot longer than I got. I want to go Arsenal."
The veteran squeezed her hand. "Go." He told her with a smile. "It's the least I could do."
She looked at him, tears welling up as pink light began to devour her, starting from the toes and moving upward.
"Just... don't get caught." She warned him. "You're going to lose your collection, but Mugabe would love to get a hold on you."
Arsenal winked, pulling her into a hug. "Don't worry." He said as his hands started to pass through her back. "I'll be fine."
And then she was gone.
Arsenal sat in the alley for a few minutes. He didn't feel any different, barring the emotional hole in his chest, but she was gone.
That meant that he had the Code.
He got to his feet as gunshots ran out.
Turning on his heel, Arsenal dashed into the streets, where rebels fired upon military and vice versa. Not really thinking about whose side he was on, he instinctively held out his hand to the Military to launch a fireball, but it never came.
Bullets clipped his shoulder and thigh, and he dove back into the alley, rolling over the corpses as he clutched at his wounds. He looked over himself, only to see the bullets pop out of his skin as the flesh closed up.
He was immortal.
Just like master.
He'd have to get a gun.
Standing back up, Arsenal dove back into the streets, covering his head with his arms as bullets bit into his arms and torso, then collapsed on the other side for a breather.
Like before, the wounds healed himself like he was wolverine. Was Wolverine a thing yet? If not, he'd have to pop back to the ninety's and- oh.
The only time travelling he was going to be doing was on public transport.
He looked up, and saw a grenade roll into the building he'd taken shelter in.
An odd thought ran through his mind.
I could recover from that.
And it exploded.
Burning, burning, pain.
Still hot, but not hurt.
I took a grenade to the face.
Arsenal pushed himself upright, looking himself over. His clothes were in shatters, he was covered in bloodstained debris, and there was a burning corpse nearby.
"Ma." A young boy behind Arsenal cried. "Ma!"
Arsenal tore to his feet, grabbing a rock, and hurled it at breathtaking accuracy at the gunman. It crushed the front of his skull, killing him instantly. He then turned to the child, bleeding on the floor.
Still conscious, but not breathing.
He got down to his knees, not caring what diseases this kid could be carrying, and began to administer mouth to mouth.
He was probably immune to whatever-
I want to live
That wasn't one of Arsenal's thought.
I want to live
Arsenal pulled back, remembering the feeling. It was just like whenever Master entered his mind.
Or when she...
Arsenal put his hands on the boy's chest.
If you want power, I can provide.
I if I grant power, will you survive? Arsenal asked the boy. I'll make you a deal, in exchange for me giving you this power, you have to make my one wish come true. Accept this deal, and you accept the conditions that come with it. While living in the world of humans, you will live like none of them. A different world, a different time, a different life. The power of kings will sentence you to a life of solitude.
Are you prepared for this?
Arsenal breathed deeply, and leant in, kissing the dying child and starting the flow of power.
Arsenal got up, having passed out from the Geass transfer, and took in his surroundings.
He was alone.
Even the corpses were gone.
He heard screams, and rushed to the the source.
A woman walking into heavy gunfire.
She kept on walking.
Eventually taking the gun from the shooter and beating him senseless.
He looked around, and there was more of them.
At least a dozen of the walking dead.
And that boy was there.
His right eye gleaming in a violet light.
Arsenal knew, at that moment, what had to be done.
He couldn't do it.
Matadi, Democratic Republic of Congo - July 2013
It was too long.
Not to allow that sin to remain uncorrected.
Arsenal waited in the shade of the internet cafe, the arranged meeting place.
Waiting for the rest of his team.