So I decided to try to write a story, originating from two songs. I thought it would be kind of fun and it would stretch my limits. The songs' names shall be disclosed later.

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Screams echoed throughout the dungeon, loud and clear. They pierced through the surrounding cement walls, shattering the hearts of the people that surrounded.

The shrieks were awful, resonating off of those cursed gray walls that the person couldn't see because of the blood-red mask that covered their face.

"N-no…stop, please—" the voice was small, almost inaudible, for fear of being tortured to an even further extent, before choking off in pain.

The tormenter smiled a ghost of a smile at the fruitless act, and ignored it. He kept at his given task, electrocuting the other's body – mainly around the genitalia and torso. Apparently, that's where the person was most sensitive.

The handheld device was handy, the torturer admitted, even if he didn't particularly enjoy harming others to this extent. But he had to, because of his orders to break this person in front of him.

The boy was currently struggling against the tormenter's action of taking his clothes off. He was merely making it harder for himself, and it caused him more pain, but he wanted out of this place that he couldn't see in, wanted to keep his virgin body to himself.

"Say your name again," the older purred. "Maybe I'll lessen the pain a little bit."

The boy was struggling too hard to even notice the torturer had spoken. The older man's mood dropped a little, and he continued to slip the boy's clothes off, one by one.

First came his shirt, with its adorable little checkered pattern visible in the dim light. Then came his black layer underneath, neatly sliced off with a knife. And then his pants were the only things left. The torturer hesitated a little, knowing that this was what the victim struggled most against, but a voice coming from his ear bud told him, for the second time, to take everything off, to put the boy in his deepest shame.

Luckily for the boy, the owner of the ear-bud-voice was unable to see anything, what with there being a lack of cameras. The young man complied with the voice and took everything off.

Unluckily for the boy, his wrists and ankles were chained to the wall, so he was unable to cover himself when his last article of clothing slithered to the cold ground.

"Come on, kid. Tell me your name again. But this time, it'll be only for me to hear. No pink-haired men and mad scientists to hear you this time," the red-haired repeated. "Like I said, I might tone it down a little."

Tears were streaming down the boy's face, and they plopped out underneath the mask, making little plinking noises when they dropped. His breath could be heard, little shaky gasps, catching every few seconds, as his chest leaned out over the rest of his body, his arms still being pulled behind him. His head hung, blonde, unruly hair showing. He was going to be broken, and nothing could be done about it. He was going to be electrocuted and raped and whatever else they had planned for him.

It was his fault for being out alone on the streets at night. There was no one to help him when he screamed. He should have known he would have been kidnapped like this.

The red-haired youth's eyebrows knotted together momentarily, but he had to get rid of these feelings. If Vexen and Marluxia knew he wasn't hurting the kid as much as he was supposed to, someone else was going to take over in his place, and possibly kill him. But then again, maybe killing the boy would have been a good thing.

After about half a minute, the boy's crying ceased a little and he was able to speak. "R-Roxas."

"That's a good kid… I'm sorry, Roxas." He rolled the name on his tongue, and decided he liked it.

With that, he turned on his handheld weapon and winced slightly, imagining the pain the kid was about to go through. He leaned forward and zapped his chest. Roxas flinched, taking in a sharp breath and his back went straight. The red-haired kept the electrocuting weapon in contact with the boy's skin, and dragged it down to his crotch.

He felt very guilty for having to do that. Roxas cried out, doubling over in pain as far as he could go, but he couldn't do anything about the incessant pain that wracked through his now-fragile body. He continued screaming, the sounds bouncing back and forth across the walls, and it penetrated the older boy.

The tormenter took off the taser-like weapon after what seemed to be an eternity to Roxas, and he slumped against the wall, uncaring of its temperature. He was in too much pain to care, his every nerve screaming at him, and he blacked out.

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Even though Roxas was in obvious pain even in his unconscious state, his naked form turned the red-haired boy on.

He kept watch, still inside of the dungeon cell, his eyes following the labored breaths the boy took. He was so innocent…. Why did this have to happen to him? He could tell that he was a virgin. But he would be one no more, at least soon, according to his bosses.

He looked in the mirrors that were hung, a total of 3 mirrors. Each of them had their own wall, about 3 meters wide and 3 feet tall. The only wall without a mirror was the one with chains – the one that Roxas was leaning on. For a few seconds, he occupied himself with looking at his reflection, his green eyes looking at his upside-down triangles that graced his cheeks.

He realized he was still holding the weapon, and he hastily put it down.

Time passed.

He sat there, staring at the boy.

Roxas kept breathing jerkily, but it seemed to be slowing down and evening out a little at a time.

His legs were open, and no one else was around, so the red-haired was free to stare.

Finally, he got tired of just sitting there and got up with a sigh and walked slowly over to the young form in front of him. He guessed the boy was about five or so years younger than he was.

He sat down again, but this time he was right next to the boy's naked body. He, of course, was still free to look all he wanted, but he'd have time for that later, and at that moment he didn't care so much.

The chains were relatively loose – he'd seen worse with other victims. They were loose enough, at least, for him to be able to put one hand under each of his knees and pull them outwards so that he was in more of a comfortable sitting position, but his knees were still bent. The thing about those chains, though, was that they were heavier than the others he'd seen.

His bosses must have been more considerate towards the young boy.

Roxas's head was looking uncomfortable against the hard wall, so the older boy let the younger use his shoulder as a resting place.

He sighed again, and waited until Roxas woke up.

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After a few hours, Roxas finally stirred, and his evened-out breathing picked up again as his half-conscious form took inventory of his pain.

His mask had slipped a little as he had fitfully slept, enough for him to be able to peer out over the top and look at his surrounding cell.

The first thing he noticed were the mirrors. There were three of them, so it seemed as if the room was bigger than it actually was. From where he sat, he couldn't see any lasting injuries, but he still felt the sting from the stupid electrocuting weapon.

As he thought bitterly about the pain that was inflicted upon him and how he would love to kill the person who did that to him, he realized his head was leaning on something, the smell of leather sort of there.

He cautiously lifted his head up and looked at the person there.

Red hair. Beautiful face. Little triangle-ly tattoos on his face. A black, long leather coat (so that's where the leather smell came from). And most importantly, he was sleeping.

And that was when Roxas realized that he was totally naked, and he panicked. Was this person the one that tortured him? No, that wasn't possible. This person was too handsome and angelic for that. Well, it was possible, just unlikely. And would someone sleep next to his victim? Not likely. It didn't sound mean enough.

Roxas came to the conclusion that this person was not the same as the one that tortured him. But that didn't help his naked-ness in any way. He was still not wearing any clothes. Thinking about being clothes didn't make them magically appear, but nothing could be done, for his clothes were in the middle of the room, relatively far away, and he couldn't reach them.

Great. So he was stuck to being vulnerable and naked.

He wasn't fat or anything – quite the contrary. He was skinny and well-toned, but it was just the feeling of being unprotected, un-separated, that wasn't boding too well.

Anyone could basically walk in and do as they pleased when he was like that.

Roxas was hungry, and it was getting harder to breathe, the mask being over his face and all. He turned his head again to look at the older boy next to him, a few years older. Well, he wasn't a boy, but he wasn't old, either.

He watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, the leather dully shining in the bad lighting.

In a few minutes, the strangely-haired other began to become a little more restless, a sure sign of waking up soon.

Roxas almost damned his luck, before remembering he wouldn't have been able to get out anyway, what with the chains and not even knowing where he was. So he just kept watching the man wake up.

His eyes fluttered a bit, before muttering, "shit," realizing what he had been doing during his job. His eyes opened all the way, and Roxas saw them to be startlingly green eyes, as bright as emerald.

His gaze was immediately directed to the boy, staring curiously over his mask. "Shit," he said again, once he realized the mask wasn't on properly. He checked his digital watch, numbers glowing red, and decided it was about time Roxas should have eaten. "I'll be back, kid." He dismissed himself, dragging up his body to get some food for the both of them.

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That man…he really was kind of hot, Roxas admitted, even though he wasn't gay. Well, he didn't really know what sexuality he preferred, because he hadn't felt attracted to anyone else before. But he still considered himself to be straight.

He watched the man's ass walk out of the room after he had put in some special-looking key to open the door. That man seemed decent, if he said so himself.

He realized that the man hadn't fixed his mask, which made him think even more he wasn't the same man that had tortured him the night before (at least, he thought it was the night before, but what did he know?). Too bad that he wouldn't be able to remember what the voice sounded like, anyway. He hadn't been trying to remember it, being focused on the pain, and it was too low to actually identify.

He was just beginning to wonder where the man had went, why, and for how long, when he came back in and quietly closed the door.

Soon, the aroma of soup and freshly-baked bread wafted over. He heard the sloshing of water inside of a cup. It was too much, and his mouth began to feel parched with want.

The man carefully walked over, balancing the food in a couple of plastic trays.

"Here." He held up the cup of water to the boy's lips and he began to sip at it, making sure there didn't seem to be poisoning, before drinking it normally.

"Your name's Roxas, right?" The man asked, as he put down the cup after it was empty.

Roxas cleared his throat to make sure it still worked, after all of the screaming the night(?) before. "Roxas. Ummm…what's yours?"

"The name's Axel. Got it memorized?" Axel smiled crookedly and tapped the side of his head as he said it. Then he sighed. Feeding someone else wasn't exactly something he wanted to do all day. "Here. You feed yourself."

Roxas watched in amazement as Axel fished in a hidden pocket in his coat, and took out a key to unlock one of his wrists (his left one – he assumed the kid was right-handed) and released it of the heavy manacles. Did he trust him that much?

Roxas took the time to stretch, because it was getting sore from being hung for so long, and let his blood rush back to the tip of his fingertips before tentatively reaching for the food that was next to him.

Axel turned around slightly, enough so it seemed that he wasn't staring, and looked at the door instead. He exhaled, and took up his own food and quietly ate. Xaldin, the cook, was pretty damn good. He could live off of that guy's food. But Xaldin was kind of intimidating, with his apron and big cutting knife…and dreadlocks. They reminded him of snakes sometimes…

But anyway, enough about The Great Cook Xaldy (which rhymes with "baldy" but that obviously wasn't the case with Xaldin).

He had to get back to the matter at hand, which was currently the job of torturing this poor, innocent, virgin kid. How was he going to do that, when it hurt him inside to see the boy suffer? And he was the one making Roxas suffer, no less.

He had turned around absentmindedly, staring off into space in the boy's direction. He vaguely noted that he had finished eating and was sitting there, not knowing what else to do.

He looked up and caught Axel's eyes, which were still spacing out, and furiously blushed and tried to cover himself. Axel shook himself mentally and actually focused on what was happening, which were the kid's futile attempt at not seeming as naked. Didn't help much, though.

For the second time that day, Axel's arousal went up, but this time, Roxas could kind of see it. However, he was so innocent he didn't really understand what kind of expression that the older man wore.

Axel turned away and pushed the stupid feeling down. It wouldn't do for him to get attached to the kid.

After all, there was surely worse to come for him.

A/N- So I have no idea where this is going, at all. Haha, i'll need some help on that. Or maybe I'll just go with the flow and write. But I have a feeling that will make it a dreadfully long story.

So, my first AkuRoku fanfic! I'll try to keep it at this length. What did you think?

...I got the idea for this chapter on TV. The torturing part, I mean. It was on 60 Minutes, which I never watch.

And I have no idea how it got its title, so I guess I'll just have to work on incorporating the title in later.