Title: The Dark Heart of the City
Author: Zoisite NightDragon
Part: 1/who has any idea...
Pairings: 1x4, 2x3x5, there's lots more that escape me right now. Zechs, Treize, and everyone else shows up later.
Status: I'll finish it eventually.
Disclaimer/Warnings/etc: Slap every warning you can think of on this. First off though, UnderCity is owned and copyrighted by me and Stonewall Publications, so please don't take it, okay? Any chars that aren't owned by Mobile Suit Gundam Wing and their respective companies are mine as well, such as the Enforcers and so on. Erm... yarg. I know I'm forgetting some, so I will say this. This piece was originally meant to be the opener of a second never in the Dark Heart series, but it really didn't fit for the chars it was written for, but it worked pretty good for an alternate universe GW story. It does have a good deal of horror, bloodshed, angst, etc.. all the bad stuff. You all will learn that I specialize in that. For background info, the wars never happened. Treize screwed up, and the entire Earth was scorched, cutting them off from everything. None of the GW boys came from colonies or wherever. They were born within UnderCity or came by other means. They were never pilots, the Gundams weren't made in time or at all (that comes up later, so shhhh) Yes, I did intentionally make this long so that if this isn't anyone's cup of tea they don't have to see anything they don't want to.
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It was quiet for once on the streets of UnderCity. A lithe male crouched in the alleyway, the scent of rotting garbage and the blood that continuously flowed in the gutters of this Hell lingering in his nose. Above him and the husk of the city, no stars shined... no moon lit the sky. What brand of demons were they to be trapped like this forever? What crime had they committed? These were the thoughts of Quatre, as he remained still, muscles burning with the strain of keeping his position.
A patrol of Enforcers moved by, their guttural voices laughing about some poor soul they had caught earlier after the curfew. Four men in all, each of them were clothed in the midnight blue of the regime, gold trim adorning the front of their tunics, the silver mark of Treize perched on the collar. Two of them held back slobbering creatures that resembled a dog and warthog combined. As massive as a rottweiler, tusks pushed out from their blackened lips, viciously sharp teeth lining the rest of their maws. Piggish crimson eyes glared out, searching for any movement in the darkness as their wet snouts wriggled to capture scents. Fur spotted their bodies at odd intervals, the rest of it a raw looking flesh. Unfortunately, it was also tough as steel as the others had found out. Daggers or other blades did little to nothing to stop them once they were set on anyone the Enforcers termed a 'deviant'.
A frightened shriek tore from his rosen lips as a rough hand captured his shirt collar, lifting him off of his feet. Another Enforcer. Quatre berated himself for his stupidity. They always went in patrols of five... why hadn't he looked around for the last one? Strong arms closed about his willowy frame as hot breath tainted with rancid blood and gunpowder blew past his ear, "Quiet runt, and you might get out of this alive."
All motion halted, hot tears scalding his eyes. Captured as easily as a babe. Leathery wings folded about him, holding him as securely as the arm about his waist did. As the membrane like wing closed over his head, the boy continued to tremble like a wet kitten, unseen at least against in the Enforcer's embrace. There were few dark angels in the group, and all of them were renowned for cruelty. Fallen from the Heavens as they were here below the Earth, they had a right to be bitter. One Hell had been traded off for another with Treize acting out the part of the new Lucifer.
The shouting and pounding steps of the other lawmen stilled his whimpering cries. Within the encasement of canvas wing, he couldn't escape, and the thought of slashing through it to gain freedom was a thought that even the insane wouldn't consider. Dark angels were bad enough when simply curious. Infuriate one by damaging their precious wings, and the morning Sweepers would be picking up bits of your flesh with the cleanings. Trapped here within the musky, gamy scent of the body against him and the wing, Quatre uttered a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening.
"What in Treize's name was that?" came from his side, probably the leader of the patrol.
"A street rat." The dark angel replied in an ominous rumbling voice, the shriek of fingernails on a chalkboard running under the tones. It filled the entirety of the chest that Quatre was crushed against on the one side, a powerful network of muscles running under the boy's cheek and body.
"Well... where is he?" Indignant sounding, a commander upset with being given such bare facts by one he considered a subordinate.
Laughter filled the stifling air, the boy's hands trying to rise to shut out the hideous tones rolling against his ears. If he listened long enough, he'd go insane. Uttering a soft whimper of terror, he was rewarded by the wing tightening about him like a tentacle, seeking to crush the life out of him if he didn't keep his silence as told. Finishing lashing his derision down upon the human that sought to command him, the dark angel's voice wafted out from his lips once more, calm and deadly in its tones, "I'm taking him home for dinner. He's stringy, but I'm willing to bet his blood will be as sweet as his soul will be. That is, unless you'd rather I take -you- home, Captain Harbringer?"
A noise came from beyond the leathery wing keeping Quatre from the Enforcers, a snorting cough. With a few last muttered phrases, too low for the boy to make out, the rest of the patrol broke off and went on their way. At least he knew his fate now. Hopefully, his death would be quick without the torture that he had heard accompanied one of the dark ones tearing the soul from a victim.
The angel's wing released him slowly, an arm still laced about his slender waist to keep him off of his feet and from escape. The boy lifted his aquamarine eyes up to meet the Artic cold ones of the fallen celestial. Cringing back from the lucid madness there, another choked sob broke from his throat. Golden lashes fell to his pale cheeks, trying to shut his eyes against that sight forever, never again wanting to see the vacancy behind that gaze.
Heero lifted a hand to touch the cherubic face of the captured boy. Moonlight pale fingers caressed the velvety skin of his captive, relishing in the softness and even more in the involuntary whimper that was forced out from between the lush expanse of the cupid bow lips. Baby fine curls of the same golden silver kissed shade as his eyelashes adorned the boy's head, flowing about his delicate features like a halo. Heero found his breath taken from him for a moment at the exquisite frailness of the body in his arms, even the small shivers of fear racing up and down the boy brought a thrill of dark delight to him. So many possibilities, so many debauchery delights that he hardly knew where to begin.
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Fifty years ago, before the mortal pair had even been born, nuclear war had scorched the world. The air turned to poison; the sky turned to ash. The earth itself went through an upheaval. The San Andreas Fault ruptured, spilling part of America into the ocean. What had once been populace cities were reduced to half standing ruins or rubble. People died by the millions from the initial attacks as well as the waves of disease that followed. It was humanity's last stand.
In this time, the ground beneath a vast city opened up, plummeting the entire thing down into the earth. Just what the name of this city had been was lost long ago, those having the knowledge dying or choosing to simply rename it to 'UnderCity'. Perhaps then it had seemed wisest to break with the past, forget the world that was in its death throes above them. Hindsight was a hell of a thing in the present.
It had been whispered among humanity from the beginnings that there were supernatural beings walking among them. With the nuclear war wiping out everything above, those creatures fled into the earth as well to escape what even they could not survive. Those that found the fallen city declared it their home. The angels had been the first. Even now, they were the most feared. Vampires came shortly after, most of their numbers dead from the lack of blood to live upon. More were slaughtered when they had been discovered to be in UnderCity by all the races that had come there for refuge. The last thing that anyone had wanted was the tatters of the human race becoming the undead and everyone starving to death. In time, UnderCity's then leader, a man named Heron Racline, had reached an agreement with them that preserved the last few remaining. To this day, only twenty or so survived. For them to turn any mortal was their death.
Last came the werecreatures, even they discovering finally that the shattered Earth could not be saved. They still skulked on the outskirts of UnderCity, living more in the miles and miles of sewer that surrounded the structures instead of the city itself as all the others did. That suited those in charge now just fine. The werecreatures were infamous for slaughtering anything trying to come into those tunnels they called their own as well as anything leaving. What exactly they did in the labyrinth of tunnels that curled about UnderCity like a snake was unknown. No one had ever ventured in there and made it out alive… or at least sane. Stumbling along in fetid darkness with the worst things imaginable clinging to a person tended to break reason in anyone. Those that made it back never spoke of their adventure, if they even spoke at all.
UnderCity in itself was a complex society, if one considered an economy based on sex, drugs, and violence a society. Few of its inhabitants had ever seen the light of the sun or knew such a thing ever existed... or they had purposely forgotten. Most had been born here or kidnapped from other places; tongues removed to prevent ever speaking of things that lay above them. Children ran the streets during the night and what passed as the day in this place. All the lights stayed lit regardless, there being no sun, no moon, and no real sky to speak of. It was something in the human condition that told them when it was time to sleep and to rise.
Curfew, oddly enough, began at what was the start of the day for those who lived above the ground. Enforcer patrols roamed the streets, collecting up anyone out at that time to be taken to the slave pens. Auctions ran all night, living beings on sale like cattle for anyone with the money to buy them. Their own families bought some, precious coin spent to reclaim a loved one caught out after the curfew or for some other offense committed against Treize and the Enforcers. The rest were sold to the various whorehouses, the tastes of those running and frequenting such establishments always needing new morsels to satisfy them. Private individuals bought a few, the rich existing even in the darkness of UnderCity. Some had their own harems, while others needed only a few males or females to play with. The proceeds of such auctions went to support the government... mainly to build up Treize's forces or pay off the existing ones.
Treize ruled UnderCity with an iron fist, simply crushing those that would oppose him such as the Rebellion and rewarding greatly those that stood with him. His greatest supporters, ones that would give all they had for him, owned the few mansions lying on the outskirts of the filth that made up the bulk of UnderCity. The celestials' homes lay in that area, along with the others of his kind that served Treize. Better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven, and whatever god these mortals believed in help them if they thought that the dark angels were ruled by anyone... even Treize.
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The soft hiss of the air conditioning was all that filled the austere rooms that Heero stepped into. Underfoot was black marble, shot through with the finest threads of gold. The same black marble made up the walls and ceilings, giving all his rooms a cold feel that was relieved only by the emerald and gold runners of carpeting such as what was underfoot as he strode up the hallway. The frail form within his arms was limp, either unconscious or sleeping. He was willing to bet it was the former given that most mortals didn't react well to his brand of flight.
A touch to a panel set in the wall released the soft strains of Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' performed on a sole piano through his home, giving calmness to the dark celestial as he roamed through the gloomy halls. Pausing before an ebony door, he nudged it gently open. Within was a large washroom, roughly the size of most studio apartments. The sunken garden tub overtook nearly half of the room, the black and gold marble expanse large enough for nearly ten people to relax comfortably within its depths. Nozzles hung above it, providing a shower or a gentle mist with a turn of the dial. Jets were set in the sides of the tub, excellent when used on tightened muscles. The floor was the cold stone of the rest of the mansion; some softness provided by the freshly spilled blood coloured towels and matching gauzy curtains that lined the tub. Two paintings hung on the wall, keeping with the scarlet theme, depicting the tortures of Hell as only Dante could have seen them. Limbs and flesh were ripped from screaming mortals, blood flowing into lakes below the damned. It suit Heero's personality and gave him a faint sense of satisfaction to see his home portrayed so graphically.
Starting warm waters running into the sunken tub, the dark angel carefully laid the unconscious boy upon a pile of fluffy towels. An innocent upon an altar of blood. It pleased his aesthetic side. Removing his own Enforcer's blackened uniform, the angel's gaze rose to his own reflection in the mirror. Dark brown hair fell down to his face in spikes that went in all directions, stroking his back softly. His skin was pale but flawless, much like the rest of the inhabitants of UnderCity, the lack of marring from his celestial heritage. Eyes of a deep Prussian blue studied him back. With a flexing of his shoulders, bat like wings rose from behind him, tipped with crimson claws at their apex. Elegantly slender hands rose, each crowned with a crystalline nail that glinted in the light. Careful slicking his hair back of his hair and out of reach should his captive resist was simple intelligence. The boy had been docile enough when he'd scooped him up in that alleyway, but taking a chance at this point was foolishness.
Satisfied, he sniffed the water, the scent of jasmine and honey reaching up to him with sensual caresses across his senses. The boy was beautiful beyond description but his aroma and state of cleanliness was less than pleasing. A bath was order to say the least. Turning about to lift his prisoner into the fragrant water, the dark angel could only blink. The pile of towels was empty save a few spots of dirt. Quatre had vanished on him.
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Quatre's blood pounded in his ears as he ran over the soft emerald carpeting. He had to get away... had to. That thing was going to eat him, something he'd made all too clear to the other Enforcers. Sliding around a cornre, the boy almost lost his footing, regaining it quickly as he nearly tumbled down an ebony staircase. Was everything in this horror house black? With his own breath rasping through his throat, the boy's light blue eyes lashed over the shadows pressing about on all sides, expecting the dark angel to come leaping out at any time. If he was lucky, he might get out of this alive... if he could remember where the damnable door was.
Flicking back sweat stained locks of hair from his face, the boy ran on, searching for any sort of exit, escape. Eager hands seized on a gilt doorknob, jerking the massive door open. Judging from the size of the barrier, it had to be the way out. Before his eyes, the carved devils that were dancing in delight seemed to wink lecherously. Below them were chained angels, their wings clipped, perfect lips frozen open in wails of torment. A few of the imps skipped about their prisoners, sodomizing some and simply torturing others with sharp instruments. Squeezing his lids shut in horror, Quatre jerked the door open and fled through it into darkness.
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Heero stalked like a hunting panther through his rooms, the soft whisper of his leather clad legs the only sound. Lips peeled back from his daggerish teeth, the angel's fingers clenching and unclenching in fury. The only stop he made was at his bedroom, jerking open the low nightstand beside the bed with a snap of his wrist. From within, he drew a delicately made pair of handcuffs and a collar. Both bore a simple 'K' on them, the only sign of ownership. Before this night was out, he was going to own that boy inside and out. How dare he flee from him as if he were a free person!
Body rippling like a caged animal within the confines of silken flesh, leathery wings snapped against his sides. Gripping the collar, small amounts of his energy fled into the metal. When he locked it around the boy's throat, it was never coming off. Lifting his chin, cold eyes roved over the hall, sniffing deeply to catch the scent of his prey. Heero lowered to a crouch, one hand pressed against the emerald runner of carpet covering the stone floor. Still sniffing, he moved forward on his hands and feet like a cat. Nails dug deeply into the floor, grinding against the marble with a rasp. A ribbon like black tongue flicked out from between his lips, tasting the air, pulling the boy's scent of fear from it. A spiraling shriek came from down the hall, Heero's pointed ears flicking towards the sound. Mind numbing terror laced the boy's cries. Evidentially he'd found the gallery. A smile of vicious delight crossed his lips as he rose back to his feet and began strolling leisurely down to the door covered with capering devils and screaming angels... only wanting the angel within.
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Back pressed against the wall, all Quatre could do was scream. The floor beneath him was unlike the rest of the house; these ones made of cement with a long gutter just before the door... a gutter that was currently choked with blood and gore that he'd rather not identify. On the other side of the rut was a nightmare of an insane man. Delicately formed bodies lay on tables, within cruel cages, or simply chained to the wall or ceiling. Blood was spread across the floor like red paint on a cheap movie set, so much of it that it seemed unreal. Before him hung the tortured form of a male his age, ripped open from throat to groin. Pasted on the young features was an expression of pain that no man or woman should have experienced before death took them. To Quatre's mounting terror, the man's lips parted to inhale. He was still alive.
Letting loose another volley of screams, he turned, only wanting out of this room that stank of rancid copper and flesh. As his small form impacted with the six foot one of Heero, he barely realized the dark angel had lifted him up or that something had been snapped about his throat. Shrieking still, ineffective fists pummeled about the other's shoulders and face, the boy too lost in his fear to yet see that he was out of the chamber and being carried upstairs once more. Finally collapsing in tears against the angel's shoulder, a soft yet insidious whisper reached him.
"Do as I say, and you will never have to end up like them."
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A moue of displeasure crossed Heero's painfully beautiful face as he sat the boy back on his feet before the bathtub, the scent of jasmine giving the room a nighttime garden feel. Touching a fingertip to the boy's nose, he carefully studied the aqua shaded eyes, searching for a hint of reaction. After he'd pulled him out of the gallery, there had been nothing except for shakes and tears. Both had stopped now, leaving his captive with a shocked and dulled expression. Lifting his massive shoulders in a shrug, Heero told himself that it didn't matter. He would come back to himself soon enough. If not, his blood and soul would provide him with enough sustenance for the night.
Sliding the ragged shirt from Quatre's pale shoulders, the angel's breath raced over his shoulder. A shiver passed over the smooth flesh, head tilting back slightly. Lowering his head enough to hide his smile, Heero lifted a finger to his mouth, wetting the tip and then running it over the boy's nipple. Another warm breath passed over the moistened skin. He was rewarded with another shiver and a soft moan. Crouching before Quatre, the dark angel's hand rose to hold the boy's chin firmly within the cage of his fingers, sniffing his throat and shoulder deeply. The low moan heightened in volume, the captive swaying on his feet as if willing to fall into his arms. The celestial's lips split in a vicious grin. Success.
Muscle laced arms wound about the boy as Heero lifted him. A gentle boost and they were over the lip of the tub, settling within the depths of the warm water. Slender arms were clasped about his neck, reminding him of the slight weight he bore in his arms, carrying the boy against him as he settled on one of the impressions built into the side of the tub as in the shape of lounging chairs.
Shifting Quatre off of his lap, Heero scooped up some of the scented waters to dump over the blonde crowned head, watching the path of the silvery waters as they wound through the dirtied locks. A hint of disgust crossed his lush lips at the filth built up as well as the parasites that crawled about within them. Those were going to have to go first. The mere sight of the small bugs crawling about on the boy's scalp was enough to make him faintly ill, reminded of the fleas infesting a rat's body.
Snaring up a bottle of medicated shampoo within a clawed hand, the strongly scented cream was dumped next upon the mass of waves, rubbed vigorously. Turning his attentions back to the blank face, he asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to further upset his new toy, "What is your name?"
A blank look met his question before the cupid bow lips parted in a reply, "Quatre..."
Heero nodded slowly, that enough of an answer for him. Watching him still, he noted with some pleasure as Quatre touched the collar about his throat. There were no tears, merely an acceptance there. At least this hadn't been another foolish mistake that would lead with him having to drag a sobbing mass down to the punishment room to be left and forgotten within one of the cages or bonds there. Allowing a smile to curve his lips, he murmured quietly, "Close your eyes."
Silvery gold lashes met pale cheeks as the boy complied without question. The smile upon the dark angel's lips grew larger. Drizzling water across the cleansed mass of hair, the now dead lice streamed down with the dirt-choked lather to be whisked away by the tub's strainer and jets. A washcloth gently rubbed across his skin, removing the stench of the streets from him easily to be replaced with the water's fragrance. Now... if he could just act as good as he looked.
Author: Zoisite NightDragon
Part: 1/who has any idea...
Pairings: 1x4, 2x3x5, there's lots more that escape me right now. Zechs, Treize, and everyone else shows up later.
Status: I'll finish it eventually.
Disclaimer/Warnings/etc: Slap every warning you can think of on this. First off though, UnderCity is owned and copyrighted by me and Stonewall Publications, so please don't take it, okay? Any chars that aren't owned by Mobile Suit Gundam Wing and their respective companies are mine as well, such as the Enforcers and so on. Erm... yarg. I know I'm forgetting some, so I will say this. This piece was originally meant to be the opener of a second never in the Dark Heart series, but it really didn't fit for the chars it was written for, but it worked pretty good for an alternate universe GW story. It does have a good deal of horror, bloodshed, angst, etc.. all the bad stuff. You all will learn that I specialize in that. For background info, the wars never happened. Treize screwed up, and the entire Earth was scorched, cutting them off from everything. None of the GW boys came from colonies or wherever. They were born within UnderCity or came by other means. They were never pilots, the Gundams weren't made in time or at all (that comes up later, so shhhh) Yes, I did intentionally make this long so that if this isn't anyone's cup of tea they don't have to see anything they don't want to.
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It was quiet for once on the streets of UnderCity. A lithe male crouched in the alleyway, the scent of rotting garbage and the blood that continuously flowed in the gutters of this Hell lingering in his nose. Above him and the husk of the city, no stars shined... no moon lit the sky. What brand of demons were they to be trapped like this forever? What crime had they committed? These were the thoughts of Quatre, as he remained still, muscles burning with the strain of keeping his position.
A patrol of Enforcers moved by, their guttural voices laughing about some poor soul they had caught earlier after the curfew. Four men in all, each of them were clothed in the midnight blue of the regime, gold trim adorning the front of their tunics, the silver mark of Treize perched on the collar. Two of them held back slobbering creatures that resembled a dog and warthog combined. As massive as a rottweiler, tusks pushed out from their blackened lips, viciously sharp teeth lining the rest of their maws. Piggish crimson eyes glared out, searching for any movement in the darkness as their wet snouts wriggled to capture scents. Fur spotted their bodies at odd intervals, the rest of it a raw looking flesh. Unfortunately, it was also tough as steel as the others had found out. Daggers or other blades did little to nothing to stop them once they were set on anyone the Enforcers termed a 'deviant'.
A frightened shriek tore from his rosen lips as a rough hand captured his shirt collar, lifting him off of his feet. Another Enforcer. Quatre berated himself for his stupidity. They always went in patrols of five... why hadn't he looked around for the last one? Strong arms closed about his willowy frame as hot breath tainted with rancid blood and gunpowder blew past his ear, "Quiet runt, and you might get out of this alive."
All motion halted, hot tears scalding his eyes. Captured as easily as a babe. Leathery wings folded about him, holding him as securely as the arm about his waist did. As the membrane like wing closed over his head, the boy continued to tremble like a wet kitten, unseen at least against in the Enforcer's embrace. There were few dark angels in the group, and all of them were renowned for cruelty. Fallen from the Heavens as they were here below the Earth, they had a right to be bitter. One Hell had been traded off for another with Treize acting out the part of the new Lucifer.
The shouting and pounding steps of the other lawmen stilled his whimpering cries. Within the encasement of canvas wing, he couldn't escape, and the thought of slashing through it to gain freedom was a thought that even the insane wouldn't consider. Dark angels were bad enough when simply curious. Infuriate one by damaging their precious wings, and the morning Sweepers would be picking up bits of your flesh with the cleanings. Trapped here within the musky, gamy scent of the body against him and the wing, Quatre uttered a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening.
"What in Treize's name was that?" came from his side, probably the leader of the patrol.
"A street rat." The dark angel replied in an ominous rumbling voice, the shriek of fingernails on a chalkboard running under the tones. It filled the entirety of the chest that Quatre was crushed against on the one side, a powerful network of muscles running under the boy's cheek and body.
"Well... where is he?" Indignant sounding, a commander upset with being given such bare facts by one he considered a subordinate.
Laughter filled the stifling air, the boy's hands trying to rise to shut out the hideous tones rolling against his ears. If he listened long enough, he'd go insane. Uttering a soft whimper of terror, he was rewarded by the wing tightening about him like a tentacle, seeking to crush the life out of him if he didn't keep his silence as told. Finishing lashing his derision down upon the human that sought to command him, the dark angel's voice wafted out from his lips once more, calm and deadly in its tones, "I'm taking him home for dinner. He's stringy, but I'm willing to bet his blood will be as sweet as his soul will be. That is, unless you'd rather I take -you- home, Captain Harbringer?"
A noise came from beyond the leathery wing keeping Quatre from the Enforcers, a snorting cough. With a few last muttered phrases, too low for the boy to make out, the rest of the patrol broke off and went on their way. At least he knew his fate now. Hopefully, his death would be quick without the torture that he had heard accompanied one of the dark ones tearing the soul from a victim.
The angel's wing released him slowly, an arm still laced about his slender waist to keep him off of his feet and from escape. The boy lifted his aquamarine eyes up to meet the Artic cold ones of the fallen celestial. Cringing back from the lucid madness there, another choked sob broke from his throat. Golden lashes fell to his pale cheeks, trying to shut his eyes against that sight forever, never again wanting to see the vacancy behind that gaze.
Heero lifted a hand to touch the cherubic face of the captured boy. Moonlight pale fingers caressed the velvety skin of his captive, relishing in the softness and even more in the involuntary whimper that was forced out from between the lush expanse of the cupid bow lips. Baby fine curls of the same golden silver kissed shade as his eyelashes adorned the boy's head, flowing about his delicate features like a halo. Heero found his breath taken from him for a moment at the exquisite frailness of the body in his arms, even the small shivers of fear racing up and down the boy brought a thrill of dark delight to him. So many possibilities, so many debauchery delights that he hardly knew where to begin.
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Fifty years ago, before the mortal pair had even been born, nuclear war had scorched the world. The air turned to poison; the sky turned to ash. The earth itself went through an upheaval. The San Andreas Fault ruptured, spilling part of America into the ocean. What had once been populace cities were reduced to half standing ruins or rubble. People died by the millions from the initial attacks as well as the waves of disease that followed. It was humanity's last stand.
In this time, the ground beneath a vast city opened up, plummeting the entire thing down into the earth. Just what the name of this city had been was lost long ago, those having the knowledge dying or choosing to simply rename it to 'UnderCity'. Perhaps then it had seemed wisest to break with the past, forget the world that was in its death throes above them. Hindsight was a hell of a thing in the present.
It had been whispered among humanity from the beginnings that there were supernatural beings walking among them. With the nuclear war wiping out everything above, those creatures fled into the earth as well to escape what even they could not survive. Those that found the fallen city declared it their home. The angels had been the first. Even now, they were the most feared. Vampires came shortly after, most of their numbers dead from the lack of blood to live upon. More were slaughtered when they had been discovered to be in UnderCity by all the races that had come there for refuge. The last thing that anyone had wanted was the tatters of the human race becoming the undead and everyone starving to death. In time, UnderCity's then leader, a man named Heron Racline, had reached an agreement with them that preserved the last few remaining. To this day, only twenty or so survived. For them to turn any mortal was their death.
Last came the werecreatures, even they discovering finally that the shattered Earth could not be saved. They still skulked on the outskirts of UnderCity, living more in the miles and miles of sewer that surrounded the structures instead of the city itself as all the others did. That suited those in charge now just fine. The werecreatures were infamous for slaughtering anything trying to come into those tunnels they called their own as well as anything leaving. What exactly they did in the labyrinth of tunnels that curled about UnderCity like a snake was unknown. No one had ever ventured in there and made it out alive… or at least sane. Stumbling along in fetid darkness with the worst things imaginable clinging to a person tended to break reason in anyone. Those that made it back never spoke of their adventure, if they even spoke at all.
UnderCity in itself was a complex society, if one considered an economy based on sex, drugs, and violence a society. Few of its inhabitants had ever seen the light of the sun or knew such a thing ever existed... or they had purposely forgotten. Most had been born here or kidnapped from other places; tongues removed to prevent ever speaking of things that lay above them. Children ran the streets during the night and what passed as the day in this place. All the lights stayed lit regardless, there being no sun, no moon, and no real sky to speak of. It was something in the human condition that told them when it was time to sleep and to rise.
Curfew, oddly enough, began at what was the start of the day for those who lived above the ground. Enforcer patrols roamed the streets, collecting up anyone out at that time to be taken to the slave pens. Auctions ran all night, living beings on sale like cattle for anyone with the money to buy them. Their own families bought some, precious coin spent to reclaim a loved one caught out after the curfew or for some other offense committed against Treize and the Enforcers. The rest were sold to the various whorehouses, the tastes of those running and frequenting such establishments always needing new morsels to satisfy them. Private individuals bought a few, the rich existing even in the darkness of UnderCity. Some had their own harems, while others needed only a few males or females to play with. The proceeds of such auctions went to support the government... mainly to build up Treize's forces or pay off the existing ones.
Treize ruled UnderCity with an iron fist, simply crushing those that would oppose him such as the Rebellion and rewarding greatly those that stood with him. His greatest supporters, ones that would give all they had for him, owned the few mansions lying on the outskirts of the filth that made up the bulk of UnderCity. The celestials' homes lay in that area, along with the others of his kind that served Treize. Better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven, and whatever god these mortals believed in help them if they thought that the dark angels were ruled by anyone... even Treize.
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The soft hiss of the air conditioning was all that filled the austere rooms that Heero stepped into. Underfoot was black marble, shot through with the finest threads of gold. The same black marble made up the walls and ceilings, giving all his rooms a cold feel that was relieved only by the emerald and gold runners of carpeting such as what was underfoot as he strode up the hallway. The frail form within his arms was limp, either unconscious or sleeping. He was willing to bet it was the former given that most mortals didn't react well to his brand of flight.
A touch to a panel set in the wall released the soft strains of Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' performed on a sole piano through his home, giving calmness to the dark celestial as he roamed through the gloomy halls. Pausing before an ebony door, he nudged it gently open. Within was a large washroom, roughly the size of most studio apartments. The sunken garden tub overtook nearly half of the room, the black and gold marble expanse large enough for nearly ten people to relax comfortably within its depths. Nozzles hung above it, providing a shower or a gentle mist with a turn of the dial. Jets were set in the sides of the tub, excellent when used on tightened muscles. The floor was the cold stone of the rest of the mansion; some softness provided by the freshly spilled blood coloured towels and matching gauzy curtains that lined the tub. Two paintings hung on the wall, keeping with the scarlet theme, depicting the tortures of Hell as only Dante could have seen them. Limbs and flesh were ripped from screaming mortals, blood flowing into lakes below the damned. It suit Heero's personality and gave him a faint sense of satisfaction to see his home portrayed so graphically.
Starting warm waters running into the sunken tub, the dark angel carefully laid the unconscious boy upon a pile of fluffy towels. An innocent upon an altar of blood. It pleased his aesthetic side. Removing his own Enforcer's blackened uniform, the angel's gaze rose to his own reflection in the mirror. Dark brown hair fell down to his face in spikes that went in all directions, stroking his back softly. His skin was pale but flawless, much like the rest of the inhabitants of UnderCity, the lack of marring from his celestial heritage. Eyes of a deep Prussian blue studied him back. With a flexing of his shoulders, bat like wings rose from behind him, tipped with crimson claws at their apex. Elegantly slender hands rose, each crowned with a crystalline nail that glinted in the light. Careful slicking his hair back of his hair and out of reach should his captive resist was simple intelligence. The boy had been docile enough when he'd scooped him up in that alleyway, but taking a chance at this point was foolishness.
Satisfied, he sniffed the water, the scent of jasmine and honey reaching up to him with sensual caresses across his senses. The boy was beautiful beyond description but his aroma and state of cleanliness was less than pleasing. A bath was order to say the least. Turning about to lift his prisoner into the fragrant water, the dark angel could only blink. The pile of towels was empty save a few spots of dirt. Quatre had vanished on him.
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Quatre's blood pounded in his ears as he ran over the soft emerald carpeting. He had to get away... had to. That thing was going to eat him, something he'd made all too clear to the other Enforcers. Sliding around a cornre, the boy almost lost his footing, regaining it quickly as he nearly tumbled down an ebony staircase. Was everything in this horror house black? With his own breath rasping through his throat, the boy's light blue eyes lashed over the shadows pressing about on all sides, expecting the dark angel to come leaping out at any time. If he was lucky, he might get out of this alive... if he could remember where the damnable door was.
Flicking back sweat stained locks of hair from his face, the boy ran on, searching for any sort of exit, escape. Eager hands seized on a gilt doorknob, jerking the massive door open. Judging from the size of the barrier, it had to be the way out. Before his eyes, the carved devils that were dancing in delight seemed to wink lecherously. Below them were chained angels, their wings clipped, perfect lips frozen open in wails of torment. A few of the imps skipped about their prisoners, sodomizing some and simply torturing others with sharp instruments. Squeezing his lids shut in horror, Quatre jerked the door open and fled through it into darkness.
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Heero stalked like a hunting panther through his rooms, the soft whisper of his leather clad legs the only sound. Lips peeled back from his daggerish teeth, the angel's fingers clenching and unclenching in fury. The only stop he made was at his bedroom, jerking open the low nightstand beside the bed with a snap of his wrist. From within, he drew a delicately made pair of handcuffs and a collar. Both bore a simple 'K' on them, the only sign of ownership. Before this night was out, he was going to own that boy inside and out. How dare he flee from him as if he were a free person!
Body rippling like a caged animal within the confines of silken flesh, leathery wings snapped against his sides. Gripping the collar, small amounts of his energy fled into the metal. When he locked it around the boy's throat, it was never coming off. Lifting his chin, cold eyes roved over the hall, sniffing deeply to catch the scent of his prey. Heero lowered to a crouch, one hand pressed against the emerald runner of carpet covering the stone floor. Still sniffing, he moved forward on his hands and feet like a cat. Nails dug deeply into the floor, grinding against the marble with a rasp. A ribbon like black tongue flicked out from between his lips, tasting the air, pulling the boy's scent of fear from it. A spiraling shriek came from down the hall, Heero's pointed ears flicking towards the sound. Mind numbing terror laced the boy's cries. Evidentially he'd found the gallery. A smile of vicious delight crossed his lips as he rose back to his feet and began strolling leisurely down to the door covered with capering devils and screaming angels... only wanting the angel within.
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Back pressed against the wall, all Quatre could do was scream. The floor beneath him was unlike the rest of the house; these ones made of cement with a long gutter just before the door... a gutter that was currently choked with blood and gore that he'd rather not identify. On the other side of the rut was a nightmare of an insane man. Delicately formed bodies lay on tables, within cruel cages, or simply chained to the wall or ceiling. Blood was spread across the floor like red paint on a cheap movie set, so much of it that it seemed unreal. Before him hung the tortured form of a male his age, ripped open from throat to groin. Pasted on the young features was an expression of pain that no man or woman should have experienced before death took them. To Quatre's mounting terror, the man's lips parted to inhale. He was still alive.
Letting loose another volley of screams, he turned, only wanting out of this room that stank of rancid copper and flesh. As his small form impacted with the six foot one of Heero, he barely realized the dark angel had lifted him up or that something had been snapped about his throat. Shrieking still, ineffective fists pummeled about the other's shoulders and face, the boy too lost in his fear to yet see that he was out of the chamber and being carried upstairs once more. Finally collapsing in tears against the angel's shoulder, a soft yet insidious whisper reached him.
"Do as I say, and you will never have to end up like them."
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A moue of displeasure crossed Heero's painfully beautiful face as he sat the boy back on his feet before the bathtub, the scent of jasmine giving the room a nighttime garden feel. Touching a fingertip to the boy's nose, he carefully studied the aqua shaded eyes, searching for a hint of reaction. After he'd pulled him out of the gallery, there had been nothing except for shakes and tears. Both had stopped now, leaving his captive with a shocked and dulled expression. Lifting his massive shoulders in a shrug, Heero told himself that it didn't matter. He would come back to himself soon enough. If not, his blood and soul would provide him with enough sustenance for the night.
Sliding the ragged shirt from Quatre's pale shoulders, the angel's breath raced over his shoulder. A shiver passed over the smooth flesh, head tilting back slightly. Lowering his head enough to hide his smile, Heero lifted a finger to his mouth, wetting the tip and then running it over the boy's nipple. Another warm breath passed over the moistened skin. He was rewarded with another shiver and a soft moan. Crouching before Quatre, the dark angel's hand rose to hold the boy's chin firmly within the cage of his fingers, sniffing his throat and shoulder deeply. The low moan heightened in volume, the captive swaying on his feet as if willing to fall into his arms. The celestial's lips split in a vicious grin. Success.
Muscle laced arms wound about the boy as Heero lifted him. A gentle boost and they were over the lip of the tub, settling within the depths of the warm water. Slender arms were clasped about his neck, reminding him of the slight weight he bore in his arms, carrying the boy against him as he settled on one of the impressions built into the side of the tub as in the shape of lounging chairs.
Shifting Quatre off of his lap, Heero scooped up some of the scented waters to dump over the blonde crowned head, watching the path of the silvery waters as they wound through the dirtied locks. A hint of disgust crossed his lush lips at the filth built up as well as the parasites that crawled about within them. Those were going to have to go first. The mere sight of the small bugs crawling about on the boy's scalp was enough to make him faintly ill, reminded of the fleas infesting a rat's body.
Snaring up a bottle of medicated shampoo within a clawed hand, the strongly scented cream was dumped next upon the mass of waves, rubbed vigorously. Turning his attentions back to the blank face, he asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to further upset his new toy, "What is your name?"
A blank look met his question before the cupid bow lips parted in a reply, "Quatre..."
Heero nodded slowly, that enough of an answer for him. Watching him still, he noted with some pleasure as Quatre touched the collar about his throat. There were no tears, merely an acceptance there. At least this hadn't been another foolish mistake that would lead with him having to drag a sobbing mass down to the punishment room to be left and forgotten within one of the cages or bonds there. Allowing a smile to curve his lips, he murmured quietly, "Close your eyes."
Silvery gold lashes met pale cheeks as the boy complied without question. The smile upon the dark angel's lips grew larger. Drizzling water across the cleansed mass of hair, the now dead lice streamed down with the dirt-choked lather to be whisked away by the tub's strainer and jets. A washcloth gently rubbed across his skin, removing the stench of the streets from him easily to be replaced with the water's fragrance. Now... if he could just act as good as he looked.