Silhouette

A/N: Ack! I know, I know, it's been a while since I updated, and I didn't intend for it to take this long.

Timeline Update!

Nero - 15
Azul - 25
Rosso - 17
Shelke - 11

Currently, the fic is about eight years before DoC, five years before VII. For a bit more reference, this is about the time Sephiroth burned Nibelheim to the ground, and about a year after Azul was recruited into SOLDIER.

... Well, at least according to the DoC Strategy Guide it is.

As for my Reviewers!

@.@ So many of you! I actually wrote out individual comments, but it took me so long to do it the server timed out and I lost all of it. So now you get the cliffnotes version.

Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to review, especially to those of you who keep coming back. I know that I said the more reviews I got, the faster I'd write, and I'm terribly sorry that up until now it hasn't worked out that way. I fully intend to have the next chapter up within a week (or ten days), fingers and beta willing.

As for those of you who have seen any mistakes, don't hestitate to email them to me at LemonLimeCrush@gmail.com. I know my beta does an exceptional job with her proofreading, but extra input is always appreciated as well.

Now, onto the next chapter!

--

Nero shivered, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. He was cold, lonely, and his body felt like hell. In all honesty, it was nothing new, but now that they had taken the darkness away from him, he had no where to run.

He was trapped in this hated world, with those people he despised, and there was no one here to comfort him or ease the pain. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, and each waking hour brought more pain, more fear, and more desolation.

They poked and prodded at him, to find how much pain he could take until his control shattered and he broke down, letting out his silent sobs and screams, trying to force him to speak, to scream, to cry…

Nero bowed his head, resting it against the top of his knees. His throat struggled to hold back the cries of anguish that threatened to break lose. He wanted… he wanted…

Weiss. Nero sniffed, trying to hold back his tears. He wanted Weiss to come and talk to him, and stroke his hair, and just be there.

“We meet again, Nero.”

Nero’s body instantly stiffened. He didn’t need to look up to know whose voice it was. It was the same cold, heartless sound that reverberated against the cold metal of his helm. Restrictor.

“You have been very well behaved as of late. I almost miss beating you into submission,” he continued. Nero didn’t acknowledge the words. He sat there in silence, unmoving, having learned his lesson not to fight back.

“Do you wish to see him?”

It took all of Nero’s willpower to keep himself from moving. Yes, he wanted to see him. He wanted to see Weiss more then anything on the face of the Planet right now.

“I can take you to see him, if you wish.”

It was a trick, it had to be. There was some hidden motive behind those eyes that were hidden behind a black mask. It had to be a ploy, or a trap. They wanted him to do something, and they were going to use Weiss as leverage.

“Look at me, Nero.”

No. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t listen to him. He was so tired of being what told what to do, how to act, how to behave…

Nero let out a hiss a pain as hand grabbed his hair, pulling his scalp back and forcing him to lift his head. Nero glared at the black helm that hid whatever human face Restrictor might have, his jaw set in a solid line.

“I don’t have time for your impudence,” Restrictor hissed, giving Nero’s hair another painful yank. “You are to do exactly as I tell you or I will make you.” Nero cringed as the hand continued to pull on his locks of sable hair.

“Do you understand?”

Yes. He understood. Lowering his gaze he nodded as much as the painful hold would allow him, feeling the shame churn in his stomach to mix with the already aching hole left by the restrained darkness.

“Now follow me,” Restrictor continued, releasing his hold and stepping back, watching with satisfaction as Nero climbed to his feet, eyes still dropped to the floor. He noted with strange appreciation that Nero had grown in the year since his release from his prison. His face was beginning to lose any trace of boyishness that he may have possessed, and those skinny arms were beginning to fill out with lean tight muscles, the process advanced by the physically binding suit that he wore.

He had grown a few inches as well, putting him a few inches shy of six feet. He would always be little, always be lithe, and Restrictor found himself enjoying the thought. As long as his darkness was restrained he’d be easy to control, easy to use…

“Come,” Restrictor said, breaking his train of thought to bring Nero down to the labs. Now wasn’t time to dwell on such thoughts. Hojo had requested that Restrictor show Nero to the labs, and that was what he was doing.

He knew that Weiss was there, that Hojo had planned a new experiment between the two brothers. He was interested in seeing it himself, and planned on staying to observe. He knew that events on the surface were pulling Hojo away more often then he liked, that Sephiroth had now achieved the rank of a SOLDIER General and was now Hojo’s top priority. That left Restrictor in charge of Deepground, and he planned to stay on top of his Tsviets.

Rosso, who was so crazed in her bloodlust that no matter how often he beat her down she snarled back, refusing to show any breaking of her spirit. She was as vicious and maniacal as they came, and the passing years only made her worse. It seemed it was a behavior particular to all those who had early starts in Deepground. And there were the new comers to think of as well. First being Shelke, a young girl who possessed the rare ability to SND. Despite this, Restrictor didn’t think she’d survive for long down here. The currently analysis of her reaction to the G-Substance showed more harm then good and had left her “colorless”. She still required daily Mako baths and probably would continue to need them in order to keep up her strength. The other one however, was showing massive progress and was more then fitting for the world of Deepground. He was known as Azul, and hand been scouted by the Turks as a possible SOLDIER candidate, before he was handed over to Hojo in hopes of successfully completing a metamorphosis trial. Already his strength and physical bearing had increased beyond that of a normal human. He also showed an uncanny drive to possess as much power as he could obtain. Rumor was that he had even volunteered to become part of the Deepground project. Smirking to himself, Restrictor hoped that one day he might prove a true test of Weiss.

Overall, Restrictor was very pleased with the progress and the increasing number of his Tsviets. Soon they will the most powerful task force on the Planet, second only to his own 14th unit of SOLDIER. [*] It would give him great pleasure to have them under his absolute control.

Silently, Nero padded after Restrictor, not daring to comment on his unusual calm. Usually the Restrictor seemed overly willing to degrade Nero as much as humanly possible, not even hesitating to smack him around a bit if he thought Nero was being obstinate or something equally insubordinate. Nero scowled, glaring at Restrictor’s back. He never did anything, yet that seemed to result in him doing something. It seemed that the Restrictor would only be content when he fully tamed Nero into submission. Nero swore that he would never allow it. They could restrain him all they want; he’d never stop fighting them.

It wasn’t a long trek to the labs, seeing as they liked to keep Nero close enough that it wasn’t a hassle every time they needed him for a new experiment. In fact, Nero’s “room” was merely the closest empty one that they could find and secure to the lab. With his new outfit on, there was no need to keep him chained and locked down like before. He wasn’t physically strong enough to overcome them, and with the absence of his darkness he couldn’t make them simply disappear.

Nero felt roll of nausea through his stomach at the thought. The restraint was like a constant coiling in his stomach, sometimes far and distance, sometimes red hot and burning. Part of him began to think that the darkness was going to eventually devour him. Part of him hoped.

“Be on your best behavior boy, lest I have to remind you of your place,” Restrictor hissed, breaking the silence as they entered the main part of the labs. Nero didn’t say anything, merely lowering his head to hide his glare. He was with Weiss on this one. He wished death upon all of those who had hurt him.

“Ah, Nero, there you are lad.” Nero resisted the urge to cringe, his gaze slowly lifting to glance at Professor Hojo. If there was one person he hated more then Restrictor, it was Hojo. Restrictor was more powerful than him, he had proven that point over and over, but Hojo wasn’t. He was just a sick and twisted man that had others overpower Nero so he could poke and prod and exam.

“How are we feeling today, hmm?” Hojo continued, walking closer to asses Nero, his voice a fake imitation of concern. Nero said nothing, only stood there with his head bowed, the perfect image of submission if you couldn’t see the fire burning in his eyes.

“He looks rather ill, doesn’t he?” Hojo examined, noting a strange tenseness in his body. Beside him, Restrictor let out a cruel laugh as he looked the boy up and down behind his mask.

“When doesn’t he?” He snickered, knowing it for the truth. While Nero’s physical appearance had improved, he was nowhere near the healthy size or weight of a recently turned 15 year old. Hojo let out his own bark of laughter, yet still continued to look Nero over.

“Increase his food supply. He’s far too frail. I intend to start pitting him against his fellow Tsviets, starting today, and at this size he’s liable to get killed,” Hojo finished, turning away from Nero and beckoning both him and Restrictor further into the lab. Nero froze. Pitting him against his fellow Tsviets? What does that mean? They couldn’t possibly be speaking about…

“WEISS!” Hojo shrieked, suddenly hurrying into the lab. “I told you not to touch ANYTHING!” He continued to screech, causing Weiss to turn lazy away from the monitor he had been expecting.

“I didn’t touch anything,” he spat back truthfully. “I was looking. That’s allowed isn’t…” he trailed off, his attention suddenly adverted by the appearance of Nero, followed closely by Restrictor. He found himself frozen as his eyes locked with Nero’s, and he felt a strange fluttering in his stomach that slowly sunk lower.

He had grown. He was taller, looking a bit ganglier then Weiss remembered, but still so beautiful. And Weiss couldn’t ignore the way those crimson depths of Nero’s lit up at the sight of him, glowing with a strange warmth and affection. He resisted the urge to smile, to reach out towards the boy, never forgetting that they weren’t alone. It didn’t stop his mind from being plagued with sudden images of the boy naked and beneath him. Weiss was correct in his prediction that a good nights sleep was now beyond him, or at least until he made Nero his. Seeing Nero standing before him, shattering the illusion that he was still a little boy only made things worse. It was plain to anyone that saw Nero that, small as he may appear, he was no boy.

“Hmph. If I would’ve known all it took was Nero to shut you up, I would’ve brought him along ages ago,” Hojo muttered darkly. For some reason, dealing with these two always put him in a foul mood.

“I didn’t bring you two here to oogle at each other, we have work to do,” he reminded both of them, striding over to his machines and monitors. Weiss stepped back, purposely aiming his body in a direction that would put him closer to Nero. He noticed how those red eyes never left him, watching him with unguarded affection, and it made Weiss want to be near him even more.

Weiss realized it was one of the reasons that he had grown so attached to Nero. Nero needed him, needed him for comfort and safety that was offered no where else. It made a strange feeling of pride and warmth boil in his gut, knowing that Nero looked to Weiss for protection despite their few and far between encounters.

“Work?” Weiss questioned Hojo, trying to keep his attention on both Hojo and his younger brother. Hojo let out a harsh bark of laughter, never bothering to turn his attention fully to Weiss.

“Yes, work, you imbecile. It’s the thing I accomplish when you pretend to have some semblance of a brain.” He snapped back. Weiss rolled his eyes, used to such remarks. In all honesty, it was a pathetic attempt at an insult to try and degrade Weiss’s intelligence, seeing as Weiss was quite confident in the fact that he was smarter and sharper then most people.

“Besides, it was about time we tested young Nero’s strength,” Hojo finished, giving a sidelong glance as Weiss, smirking at Emperor’s reaction.

Weiss’s body had gone rigid, his hands slowly curling into fists. Test Nero’s strength? Is that what he was here for? Did Hojo intend to make him fight Nero?

“I won’t do it,” Weiss hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and new that Restrictor was putting himself in a position to take down Weiss if he proved to be hostile.

“You will do what I tell you to boy, because you have no other choice!” Hojo snapped, turning around to glare back at Weiss. Weiss didn’t even flinch. He took a single step forward, showing that he wasn’t going to back down, that there was no arguing over this matter.

“Are you threatening me?!” Hojo shrieked, obviously taken a back at the audacity of the man. Weiss hadn’t shown outward signs of aggression towards him since Nero entered his life those two years ago.

“I will not fight him,” Weiss spat back, teetering on the faint edge of control. He’d rather smash Hojo to pieces and suffer the consequences then even dare to hurt Nero. He knew through his own past experiences what a living hell Deepground could be. If it meant forfeiting his own wellbeing to keep Nero safe then so be it. He would not shatter the look in Nero’s eyes. He would not betray Nero’s trust.

“Oh? And if you won’t, do you think that will make a difference? Then are thousands of souls in Deepground. Surely there is one of them who would willingly fight a Tsviet for a chance to be promoted,” Hojo sneered back. Weiss didn’t budge. He wouldn’t.

They stood that way, motionless for a few moments that stretched into eternity. Hojo, loving to egg Weiss on with the belief that he would be forced to fight Nero, Weiss, unwilling to show any faltering in his resolve. It was Hojo that broke eye contact first, snickering to himself as though this was a great joke before turning away from Weiss.

“Don’t be stupid, if you can manage. It’d be pointless to pit you two against each other at this stage in the experiment. Nero would be no match for you what so ever, and I knew before your idiotic little display of masculinity that you wouldn’t willingly fight him,” Hojo said, his voice taking on an air of superiority. Weiss resisted the urge to downright growl, those words not calming him in the least.

“You are not here to fight Nero, you are here to observe,” Hojo said matter-of-factly, turning back around with a smug look on his face. Weiss’s lip curled back in a silent snarl. That twisted little bastard! He knew that he wouldn’t fight Nero, so he was going to force him to stand by and watch as somebody else did!

“Frightening, I assure you,” Hojo replied in a voice that sounded bored with Weiss’ facial expression. He had no need to fear Weiss as long as Restrictor was close by. Weiss probably wouldn’t be able to land a blow before Restrictor reacted. Weiss’s strength meant nothing as long as Hojo had somebody stronger on his side. Speaking of which…

“Restrictor?” Hojo questioned, turning his attention to the black mask. With the faintest of nods, a gauntleted hand shot out to grab Nero harshly by the forearm. Nero didn’t even his flinch; his eyes still locked solely on Weiss’ form. It took a sharp tug for him to finally turn his gaze, a short pain wrenching through his shoulder a sign that he was to follow Restrictor’s lead. Their path took them past Weiss, and Nero lifted his eyes to lock with Weiss’s once again. For the shortest of seconds he saw that cold mask of indifference on Weiss’s eyes falter, and he was able to see the concern and worry the immaculate figure felt for him. It intensified the feeling of warm appreciation that he had for Weiss.

As Nero walked past him, Weiss knew that he to just touch the boy, to reassure him that he would be everything Nero hoped to find in him. It was barely a movement, could hardly be called a caress, but he allowed just the tips of his fingers to brush over Nero’s arm.

Restrictor saw the touch, and yanked Nero beyond Weiss’s reach, not liking the connection between the two brothers. It was something he would have to remedy if possible. It was a dangerous thing, an alliance between the two of them. But the deed was already done, and Nero found himself struggling to keep his face void of emotion. He wanted to turn to Weiss and smile, show him that he wasn’t afraid, that’d he be able to survive whatever they had planned for him today.

Even if he had decided to reassure Weiss in some way, he wasn’t given the time as he was practically dragged out of the lab into an adjoining room. The room was almost entirely bare. There was a steel door at the far end that led somewhere else as well of as the door behind him, and as usual a large glass window that took up nearly an entire wall for “observation”, but other then that the room was devoid of anyone or anything. Nero noted that he could see Hojo and Weiss bickering through the glass pane. He felt something bubble in his chest, and if his life had been different, it might’ve evolved into laughter.

“I’d be careful if I were you, little Nero…” Restrictor suddenly broke up, causing Nero to divert his attention as his head snapped in the direction of that cold, resounding voice.

“Weiss is a valuable experiment. More valuable then you will ever be,” Restrictor continued, and Nero could’ve sworn he felt those hidden eyes staring straight through him. “If his attachment to you begins to interfere with our experiments, you will be the one to suffer for it.”

Nero stared back at Restrictor, the hardening of his eyes the only sign that he had heard. The reaction caused Restrictor to chuckle, never letting go of Nero’s arms as he moved to stand in front of the much smaller boy, looming over him like the shadow of death. He looked so fragile to Restrictor, bound as he was, his appearance clear now that there was no swirling darkness to conceal him.

“So don’t get any ideas that you aren’t expendable. I would take great pleasure in destroying you for the pain it would cause Weiss alone, though…” Restrictor’s hand shifted, moving faster then Nero could react until it was gripping his neck, displaying just enough pressure to make Nero realize how serious he was being.

“Seeing you suffer so prettily would be almost as wonderful…” Restrictor whispered, his thumb moving to trace along Nero’s jaw line. Nero shivered; his head trying to jerk away from the touch only to have the hand around his throat tighten. Restrictor’s words scared him, and the touch on his face made him want to shrink back in his fear. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want Restrictor to touch him, and the gentle caress burned across his skin like a brand. It struck much deeper then any beating ever had.

Laughing softly, Restrictor released Nero, turning on his heel to leave the boy alone with his thoughts and his upcoming battle. It would be interesting to see how the young boy faired. Devoid of his darkness and even free reign of movements, Restrictor had actually toyed with the idea that Hojo WANTED Nero dead. Either that, or he was in the same mindset of using Nero against Weiss.

Reentering into the lab area, he was glad to see neither Weiss nor Hojo had noticed his little confrontation with Nero, both being too busy spitting insults at each other. It was annoying, really. It certainly gave Weiss room to be defiant, and it only served to put Hojo in a fouler mood. He prayed for the day when Deepground would be put into his hands and he’d be able to put Weiss in his rightful place. Unlike Hojo, he WAS physically stronger then Weiss, and just as intelligent, so he’d be able to beat the boy into submission without having to resort to other people doing it for him. Restrictor swore to himself that one of these days he would break both of the brothers to his will.

“All set, Professor,” Restrictor spoke up, ending the verbal dual effectively. Weiss moved, turning his attention to the clear glass where he was glad he could see Nero, who had his head turned at slight angle so he could watch both the opposite door as well as Weiss.

Studying his little brother, he noted with a frown that something was off. There was something about Nero’s appearance that didn’t seem right, and it spawned a sense of foreboding in his stomach. Something was missing, and it made him afraid for Nero’s safety…

“You see, Weiss, after your test run against Rosso I decided that your skill level was far too advanced for her. She needs an opponent that would be an equal match for her,” Hojo began to explain; ignoring the sharp glance he received from Weiss. “Not to mention, we haven’t tried Nero in open combat it and it should be quite… enlightening to see how he fairs.”

Weiss frowned, not liking the sound of this at all. He had only fought Rosso once, but he knew that she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Her sole duty in life was to kill or be killed, an animalistic and archaic law that left no room for failure.

He wasn’t given time to say anything as the door on the opposite end of the sparring room entered, and sure enough, it was Rosso manacled and flanked by the usual set of guards. He remained silently as they moved into the room, and noticed with grim satisfaction that these new guards had learned, sparing enough time to remove the shackles before darting back to safety through the door. Rosso made a somewhat playful swipe, and Weiss knew that this time she was merely toying with them. If Rosso had truly wanted them dead, they wouldn’t have had time to retreat.

“Ah, so you have found a new play thing for me, have you Restrictor?” Rosso’s heavily accented voice filtered over the loudspeaker system that conjoined the two rooms. Her eyes darted past Nero to the glass pane, coming to rest on Hojo for a moment before darting towards Weiss.

“And I have an audience as well. Heh, what little game are you getting at now?” she asked, striding further into the room with casual ease. Hojo smirked, pressing a button on one of the computer panels to allow him to speak back.

“I assure you it’s nothing my dear. Merely another test run between Tsviets,” Hojo said airily, as though it was quite the normal situation. Weiss noted with a small note of irony that it was probably going to become normal if Hojo and Restrictor had their say.

“Hah! Surely you jest. You call this puny little boy a Tsviet? The Emperor is one thing, but this flea of a boy is an insult!” Rosso said, eyeing Nero up and down. Nero merely gazed back at her, his face a frozen mask that, as usual, let no emotion seep through. In fact, he could almost have been taken for a statue, if it weren’t for the light that reflected off of his crimson eyes.

“Do you have nothing to say, little boy? Or do I have to rip the words from your throat?” She continued, slowly circling closer to Nero. “No? Or is your silence a yes?” Nero made no reply, his eyes merely flickering to follow her movements.

He really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He had never fought before, or at least in a fair match between an opponent. The closest thing he had to any battle experience was bearing the grunt of Restrictor’s rage and the beatings that followed it. While his emotionless face never revealed it, he was confused at what he was supposed to do, or how he was supposed to act.

He hated fighting, hated the pain it caused him, and now he was supposed to inflict that pain on somebody else? It was either that, he realized, or let them hurt him themselves. He bit his lower lip, shifting slightly on his feet, torn between the inevitable outcome that they must fight, that somebody must suffer for Hojo’s experiment.

He wasn’t given anymore time to ponder these thoughts, because Rosso took this subtle movement as a cue to attack. Nero saw a flash of crimson before something hard slammed into him, sending him backwards to sprawl against the floor. His mouth opened in a silent gasp of pain, his eyes not even seeing the body before it hit him. Cold, high pitched laughter resounded around the small room as Nero dragged himself to his feet, gingerly touching the scratch marks across his chest. He pulled back his gloved hands and noted with grim wonder at the sticky substance that covered them, knowing that it must be his own blood.

“Ooooh. Blood really does suit you, little boy. I shall paint your body crimson with it!” Nero’s eyes flickered up, this time keeping sight of the red blur before it slammed into his body again, sending him slamming against the far wall, pain searing across his vision once again.

It was then that Weiss realized that something was really wrong. In the past, whenever anyone had even threatened Nero, his darkness had rose around him like the hackles of a dog, twisting and turning and flickering out to consume whatever harmed him. He knew with that advantage Nero would be able to defeat Rosso, or at least keep her a bay, but it was a sickening realization when he released that not only was Nero’s darkness not protecting him, it was no where in sight.

“What did you do?!” Weiss suddenly yelled, whirling around to face Hojo. Restrictor was on him in a flash, an arm reaching out to grasp him across the chest, preventing him from tackling the scientist in the ground. Hojo merely chuckled; watching as Nero dragged himself to his feet only to be knocked down by Rosso’s lightening paced attacks.

“What did you do to him?!” Weiss howled again, truly beginning to fight against the man that held him. Restrictor let out a small grunt, noticing for the first time how truly strong Weiss had gotten, and that it would only be a matter of time before physical strength alone wasn’t enough to keep him back.

“It’s a marvel that suit of his, top of the line ShinRa technology. You see those glowing blue lines? It’s actually carefully refined Mako, the same that is used to treat you,” Hojo began, not bothering to look at the seething Weiss.

“You see, I realized that since his life-force had such a destructive effect on you, I proved that the opposite worked just as well. It suppresses his power of darkness, making it impossible for him to call on it in anyway,” Hojo finished, not even bothering to try and hide the note of satisfaction in his voice.

“You bastard!” Weiss hissed, straining against the arms that held him back. “She’s going to kill him! This isn’t a fight! This is Rosso using Nero as a scratching post!” He said, pointing at the battle that still “raged” beyond the glass. You couldn’t even call it a conflict. Rosso was ripping Nero’s to shreds and there was nothing he could do about it. She was still toying with him, allowing him to regain his feet only long enough to knock him back town, tearing scratch like marks across his face and body.

“Then he deserves to die,” Restrictor spoke up, quickly losing patience with his attempts to restrain Weiss. “Death is always a possibility for those who reside in Deepground.”

Weiss snarled, what little control he had now shattering, knowing that Rosso intended to kill Nero and they were going to allow it. Worst of all, there was nothing he could do about it. He suddenly whirled on Restrictor, trying to shove the man off of him with a hard push from his shoulders. Restrictor grunted at the impact, but didn’t let go, using his free hand to unsheathe one of the short blades he always carried with him, before placing it firmly against Weiss’s throat.

“Try that again, boy, and I’ll slit your throat!” He hissed, pressing the blade hard enough against Weiss’s neck to draw blood. Weiss let out another snarl, trying to jerk away from the Restrictor but only resulted in the blade being pressed harder against his delicate skin, and he knew he had no choice but to sit and watch or forfeit his own life.

--

Rosso was impressed. Despite the near constant assault, Nero hadn’t given her the privilege of hearing even a short gasp of pain. The suit that he was wearing was nearly torn to shreds, Mako leaking out of torn tubes to stain against bloodied flesh, swirling and mixing to form an ugly shade of purplish black that dripped down his skin. Yet still it continued to flow, circulating through whatever ever circuits weren’t torn, lines of blue still glowing throughout his body serving whatever purpose they were there for.

Nero himself was breathing heavily, his face covered with sweat and flecks of his own blood, some of it dripping from a deep cut across his right cheek bone, most of it having landed there after Rosso had landed a blow. It was actually a pretty sight, at least in Rosso’s eyes. His eyes shone from beneath thick black hair that fell across his face, the color accented by the trickles of blood that were splattered over his face. His hands were clenched as he dragged himself to his feet yet again, not even trying to attack Rosso. She was just too fast for him. His eyes could keep up but his body just couldn’t. His mind would scream to move, duck, twirl, dodge, but Rosso just kept up the constant onslaught and soon enough a blow would land, sending him sprawling to the ground yet again.

But he wouldn’t cry out. He wouldn’t give anyone the pleasure of hearing his cries of pain. His voice was locked deep down inside of him and he doubted anyone would ever be able to unlock it. It was his one last defiant stand to whatever they threw at him. He would never let them hear him cry.

“I’ve grown tired of this…” Rosso said, flexing her metal clawed hand, inspecting their blood stained tips. “You have proven amusing, for your part. It is a shame that I’ll never get to hear you beg for mercy, but I assure you, little boy, it’s something I can live without,” she sneered, putting herself in a battle pose once again.

Nero glared back, readying his body for whatever was about to come. He knew he couldn’t beat her when it came to hand to hand combat. He had never been trained to fight, always having relied on his darkness, but since that was stolen away from him…

Nero’s eyes narrowed, a sudden idea coming to mind. This suit was obviously not designed to withstand heavy damage, having been torn numerous times by this red she-devil. If only he could get her to strike the insignia on his chest, it might be possible that she would disable the chip that caused the Mako to flow. If that were to stop, his darkness would be released and he’d be able to swallow his crimson opponent whole…

So lost was he in his thoughts, that he almost missed Rosso’s launched attack, eyes going wide as he saw the familiar flash of crimson that signaled her assault. He barely had time to turn his body towards her barrage before her body connected with his, her clawed hands being position as though it were a sword, prepared to pierce right through his chest and heart.

Rosso nearly paused as she saw Nero turns into, and not away from her attack, but took it only as a sign of defeat. Letting out a triumphant “hah!” she slammed her fist forward, straight through the SOLDIER symbol that glowed on his chest.

Her victory was short lived as she heard, as she felt, a howling scream tear through the room, a screeching cry that was made by nothing remotely human. Her eyes grew wide as she focused on Nero, who had transformed before her eyes into a living, breathing embodiment of darkness.

His true form was merely a silhouette against a darker background, the blue lines in his suit flickering before dying completely, and it looked as though his entire body had been consumed by a dark flame. His red eyes had transformed into glowing yellow orbs, which glared back from her, the rest of his body just a faint line against the darkness that twirled around him, through him, composing and defining him. He was giving off his own form of anti-light, a dark blue glow that seemed to swallow illumination instead of creating it.

“What?!” was the only thing she managed to cry, trying to pull her hand back from the shattered insignia on her chest, noticing that it had only destroyed the metal plate and hadn’t even gone through. However as she made to draw back a black hand shot out, grabbing her retreating limb.

She tried to jerk back, only to have darkness shoot up around her arm. Rosso realized with fright filled eyes that whatever he, or rather it was, it was consuming her. Letting out her own scream of wrath, she tried to tug free, only to feel herself being pulled in more the struggle. Her last sight before the darkness consumed her was that emotionless face staring back her, and the realization that during the entire encounter, he hadn’t uttered a sound.

--

“Stupid, insolent little wench!” Hojo seethed, obviously upset at the recent turn of events. Not only had Rosso in all her glorious stupidity released Nero from his binds, she probably gotten herself killed in the process. Growling, he turned to Weiss, his face twisting into a foul snarl as he saw the amusement on Weiss’s face, still held at bay by Restrictor’s blade.

“Weiss to the rescue?” he grinned, not bothering to hide his chuckle of delight. Nero had done well. Not only had he survived Rosso’s attacks, he used her strength to free himself of his bindings. It was awfully clever, even if he was the only one amused. He didn’t mind the glare Hojo gave him, nor the increased pressure against his jugular. Whatever animosity he had felt earlier dissolved with the recent turn of events.

“You know, Restrictor; if you’re not careful you might actually slit my throat,” Weiss pointed out, his bravado returning now that he new that Nero was safe.

“You…” Hojo hissed, advancing on his experiment with obvious fury. Weiss merely quirked an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sardonic grin at the appearance of a vein pulsing on Hojo’s temple.

“You… you get in there… and you fix this mess!” Hojo spat, as though this whole fiasco had been his idea. Weiss rolled his eyes, his amusement fading.

“You want me to save Rosso, while you would’ve forced to stay by and watch Nero die?” he asked, his eyes narrowing at the obvious double standard.

“It is not your decision who lives or dies! And I say Rosso lives, so you get in there and tell you horrible little demon of a brother to let her go, or I swear I’ll make you pay for it, Emperor!” Hojo seethed. Weiss inclined his head in a mocking bow, feeling the blade against his throat relent as Restrictor released him. Normally he would push the matters for shit and giggles, but he had found a powerful ally in Rosso and wasn’t about to give her up. He only hoped that he could convince Nero to let her go.

Striding towards the door, he noted with satisfaction that Hojo didn’t even hesitate to let him in. However, as he entered the room, all the pleasure from making Hojo angry quickly faded as he got closer to Nero.

The boy hadn’t moved since he had consumed Rosso, only stood there as a swirling form of darkness that contained only the vaguest shapes of the human child that he was. No, not a child any longer the voice in the back of his head reminded him. He was already growing into a young man with dangerous powers that they had no control over. Weiss realized with a pang that they might hold true to the threats they always made against him. If they couldn’t control Nero, he wouldn’t put it past them to destroy him.

“Little one…” Weiss whispered, watching the way the body grew slightly rigid, but didn’t bother to turn and face him. Weiss frowned but continued his approach, knowing in his heart that he had no reason to fear Nero. He didn’t even hesitate as the darkness flared up at his approach, obviously content to destroy anything that posed as a threat.

“Enough of that,” Weiss said softly, trying to sooth Nero as best he could with his voice. It worked, to an extent, as the darkness slowly edged back but didn’t disperse enough to give Nero back his human form.

“Come on, little one, it’s ok…” Weiss murmured, now, directly behind Nero. He reached out carefully, wanting to make sure that the darkness didn’t infect his system as it was probable to do. He gentle laid a hand on Nero’s “shoulder”, watching in a slight amazement as the faint glow appeared beneath his palm, the darkness seeming to peel away from Nero’s flesh like a second skin. It was as though his own power was negating Nero’s. As it slowly rolled back, he noticed Nero was beginning to tremble, and quickly reached out to grasp the boy before he sunk to the floor.

“Shh… it’s ok, I’ve got you,” Weiss whispered into the soft shell of an ear as Nero slowly reappeared. Nero’s eyes fluttered shut, his body going completely limp in Weiss’s arms as he collapsed into a near faint. He only faintly remembered Weiss lowering their bodies to the floor, both of them kneeling as Nero rested his back against Weiss’s chest.

His lips moved in a soundless word, though Weiss had the inkling suspicion that the lips had turned to form his name.

“That’s right little one, it’s me…” Weiss whispered, using one hand to reach up gently run it through Nero’s hand, the other wrapped snuggly around Nero’s waist. He tried as best he could to ignore the way Nero snuggled against him, knowing that it was going to send his mind distinctly southwards to feel that lithe body actually curled up against him.

Instead, he concentrated on removing what remained of the outfit, knowing that it was only causing Nero more stress and pain. His face darkened as he reached to undo what was left of the once constricting uniform. He was forced to let go of Nero, but carefully balanced him against his chest before he peeled the cloth from Nero’s body, wary of the many wounds on his body. He let out a faint gasp of surprise as the shoulders, and then upper torso was revealed, until the clothing and gloves were discarded to leave Nero’s upper torso bare.

What was once smooth alabaster skin was no more. Excluding the bloody tears and cuts that were a result from Rosso's attack, something else, something completely unnatural now adorned the once flawless skin. Dark stripes of black seemed to have been tattooed over his arms and shoulders, evidence of the struggle his darkness had made to get free. Since it was forced to stay within Nero, it had begun to corrupt him, staining his skin with obvious signs of its existence.

“Stupid…” Weiss snapped, running his hands over the tattooed flesh. It must’ve been killing Nero, to have all that power and pressure built up inside of him. He felt Nero shiver against him, which caused Weiss to wrap his arms around the smaller figure again.

“Not you, little one, them, them and their stupid need to control you. It must’ve hurt you so much…” Weiss whispered, wanting Nero to know that his anger was not directed towards him. Nero let out a relieved sigh, snuggling harder against Weiss’s body, ignoring the pain that shot through the few cuts and scraps Rosso had landed on his back.

“It’s ok little one….” Weiss continued, reaching up to stroke Nero’s hair once again. He remembered how much he had liked that, so very long ago. He wanted to stay here, with Nero nestled safely in his arms, but there was work to do and consequences if it wasn’t done.

“Little one, could you do me a favor?” Weiss began, still being combing his fingers through Nero’s black mane of hair. Nero let out a little nod, his head moving to nestle in the crook of Weiss’s neck, loving the sound of the heartbeat beneath his ear.

“You need to let Rosso go … she was only doing what she was forced to do…” Weiss said in a soft voice, noting the scowl that crossed Nero’s face.

“She’s an ally, Nero… she is trapped here just like us. We need her if we are to be free one day…” Weiss urged, willing Nero to see the truth. It would take all of their strength to overthrow the Restrictor. He would need all of his Tsviets in order to succeed. Nero hesitated, but in the end he knew he wouldn’t deny Weiss. Besides, he wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of somebody floating around inside of him…

Gathering what little strength remained, Nero searched his endless void for the young woman he had devoured mere minutes before. He found her, curled up and tearing at her hair, her mind filled with what horrible memories she must’ve experienced. Nero felt a wave of pity, realizing that Weiss was right, and Rosso must’ve had similar treatment growing up as he and Weiss did.

Carefully, he drew her out, realizing with some satisfaction that he was still able to do it despite his weakness. He watched the darkness condense and curl on the floor, before it retreated to show Rosso’s figure now collapsed on the floor. She lay there, eyes squeezed shut, breath coming in strangled gasps, obviously too weak or too distraught to move.

“Good boy…” Weiss whispered, giving Nero a light squeeze to show his affection. Nero grinned, nuzzling his face into Weiss’s shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. His only wish was that this moment would last, that he’d be able to stay curled up against that warm surprisingly soft body. Everything about this moment was a huge release for him. The darkness now curled around his body as usual, no longer tearing him apart from the inside. He was with Weiss again, who had proved to be as kind and gentle to him as he had remembered.

Nero felt himself letting go, submitting to his fatigue and sudden comfort to fall into the blissfulness of unconsciousness. It was more of a faint then a gradual falling asleep, his body going lax against the strong arms that held him. It had been a little too much for the boy that had spent most of his life alone and forgotten in isolation.

Weiss frowned down at the unconscious form, running his fingers over one of the black tribal-like markings that now flowed over the pale skin. A part of him told him that those markings would probably never fade, and Weiss was suddenly assaulted with the urge to trace over every inch of the twirling patterns, with his fingers and quite possibly his…

“Hand him over.”

Weiss jumped, too lost in thoughts, which were quickly turning illicit, to notice that Restrictor was suddenly standing right in front of him. Glaring up at the man, he rewrapped his arms protectively around Nero, refusing to let him go.

“Unlike Hojo, I do not have time or the patience to deal with your pathetic insubordination,” Restrictor hissed, letting one of his hands move to rest lightly on the hilt of one of his blades. Weiss’s eyes narrowed to almost slits, not wanting to deprive Nero of the little comfort that he ever had in his life. Not to mention, it was equally nice for Weiss as well. To him, it was worth getting into a fight over.

“Hand. Him. Over.” Restrictor said again, every word punctuated to show that he was not kidding, and he would certainly harm Weiss if he didn’t comply.

“No,” Weiss snapped back, getting a firmer grip on Nero’s fainted form. Not only was Weiss loathe to hand Nero over, especially to Restrictor, part of him was itching for a fight and excuse to cause one.

However, a familiar cry of furry robbed either man of the opportunity as Restrictor was faced with the much more immediate threat of Rosso, who seemed to have recovered in the moments Weiss had been lost in his thoughts and then diverted by Restrictor.

Restrictor moved seemingly without doing so, his short blade like sword instantly in his hand as he turned to strike Rosso. He didn’t even hesitate to embed the sharp blade into her chest, aiming for her upper right shoulder as to prevent too much damage. The blade sunk deep, actually forcing through her body to come out the other side.

Rosso’s eyes went wide, her attack on the hated Restrictor instantly coming to an end at the blinding pain that consumed her. Her body almost immediately gave out and she dropped to her knees, Restrictor releasing the blade to keep it embedded in her shoulder. It wasn’t a fatal wound, and she would live with it as he took care of Weiss.

Weiss had used that rapidly passing distraction to move to his feet, still clutching Nero’s unconscious form to his chest. He was glad that Nero was so little and light, the added weight barely a hindrance to his movements. However, Weiss was robbed of the use of his hands, and as slight as Nero’s weight was it gave Restrictor just the edge of advantage.

Having already warned Weiss to release the boy, and his own blood rushing slightly at the sight of blood on those pathetic Tsviets, Restrictor didn’t hesitate to attack Weiss, his movements never faltering. It was almost a single, fluid movement, the stabbing of Rosso to his new assault on Weiss, releasing the second of his blades and bringing the hilt of it crashing across Weiss’s temple. The only thing Weiss ever saw was a black shadow of movement before the pain exploded on the side of his head.

His head snapped to the side, his vision instantly going blurring as he staggered, his balance and senses thrown off at the sudden pounding of his head. He struggled to keep hold of his consciousness, to keep a strong grasp on Nero, but as a second blow landed, he lost that battle as he dropped to the floor, already unconscious by the time he hit.


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[*]The Restrictors were considered the the 14th Unit of SOLDIER. Ragnarok was 13th. 1-12, I have no idea. This alludes to the idea that their might be more then one, but as far as I can tell its the same Restrictor throughout the Muliplayer Mode. If there are more, or where they are at, I have no idea.

A/N: Cliffhangers ftw! Not much to add on this end of the story, only that I once again PROMISE with all my heart to try and get the next chapter up sooner.

A little preview for the next chapter.

Events on the surface drag Hojo away from Deepground, leaving our poor little Tsviets in Restrictor hands. Not to mention, everyone is seeing blue...

Until Next Time!