Disclaimer: I do no claim any rights to Naruto.

Author's Note: This mood to this entire story was inspired by and set to Blood Stain Child's "Mozaiq" album, Five Finger Death Punch's "Way Of The Fist" album, Slipknot's "Subliminal Verses Vol.3" album, KiTTiE's "Oracle" and "Spit" albums, Dir En Grey's "Uroboros" and "Marrow of the Bone" albums, and Born of Osiris' "The New Reign". Check them out. If you like Trance Metal, Melodic Death Metal, Thrash Metal, Noise Metal, Nu Metal, Metalcore, and Technical Deathcore/Breakcore, that is.

Author's Warning:

This is for older or mature teens and adults. I only rated it T for teen because I and a teenager, I know that I would have been able to handle this as a fourteen year old kid, and that there are other young teenagers that can handle it. So, don't get your panties in a bunch because you think it might be the wrong rating. Later on, the fanfiction will have Mature themes such as graphic violence/gore, short scenes of...sexual content, dark themes (hatred, irredeemable acts, extreme cynicism, amoral attitudes, a vague sense of ethics, mention of emotional instability and disturbance, crime), and totally foul language.

"Repent repent, the end is nigh.... Our secrets will kill us." - Bring Me the Horizon, "Chelsea Smile"

Introduction:

The world had changed. It is now the age of Psions, a handful of psychic people possessing extraordinary abilities, powers formerly ascribed to demons, spirits, and things of legend. It was new. It was frightening. The common people revolted when they discovered the nature of certain people being Psions, believing ill of all Psions. Terrorists groups made of Psions rose in response to this sentiment, the most notorious being Sound, a group dedicated to the advancement of generation Psi and the termination of the common people. Hired researchers and underground scientists carried Sound farther than anyone ever could have imagined, and enhanced and altered a Psionic child as a weapon, injecting nanotechnology into it's DNA as a newborn. Since their experiment was a success, the researchers repeated the process many more times. However, the experiment didn't take well for others. All but eight more children that received the treatment rejected the alterations and died.

Nine children.

Nine lives fatefully altered forever.

This is the story of those extraordinary children – weapons – Psions who survived.

Prologue

The Central Sound Facility, 24:37

Orochimaru and Tsunade-hime, stared at the reports on the nine surviving creations. Masterpieces they were, each child specifically chosen for the experiment, whose evolved DNA was enhanced by merging and implanting them with molecular nanotechnology. The subjects did not just wield or have an affinity for the aspects the inherited or were made from – they became them.

"How soon will he be ready for me to take?" Tsunade-hime seemed anxious as Orochimaru reviewed the report on his first beloved little experiment.

"He can't be taken unless you pay me in full."

Tsunade-hime's eyes narrowed darkly. Her expression grew furious. "I have funded this entire project. I have supported you the entire way."

Orochimaru smiled ironically. "Only economically. Never emotionally. Never has your interest been vested in this as mine has." He reviewed their progress. "Oh, my nine little soldiers...all doing so well."

The first to survive, that Orochimaru had found and "fixed", was a boy with his silver hair and a single black eye. His specific Psionic trait had given him an affinity for lightning. The scientist had merely taken that affinity and transformed it into a characteristic and ability. He was labeled Subject 01, a lanky teen by now, and prone to giving the researcher a calculating glare. The boy was trouble but Orochimaru cared nothing of that at the moment, only of the progress the child displayed. Even if he was certain to be an issue in the future.

The second child was a few years younger with an entirely different disposition. He was an eccentric child with his bark-brown head spiky as a cactus, already comrades with Subject 01, following the older boy's every word. The boy was a "clone" of Tsunade-hime's grandfather, Hashirama Senju, but unfortunately, showed no similarities in personality or physical characteristics. He did, however possess the same Psionic affinity: autotrophic organisms, specifically plants. This fascinated Orochimaru to no extent. The ability to sense the state of the ecosystem he lived in and the power to communicate on a higher level and command plants? Could the child cause a flower to blossom before it's time? Change a peach seed into an apple tree? They often asked him to do such things, but the child always refused. It would hurt the plants, he claimed, to force their growth. He would say that there is a time for everything and the plants and he would follow the commands of the seasons.

Utterly fascinating.

The third success was a white-eyed boy that a prestigious family had generously donated in order to cover up a scandal concerning adultery. Subject 03 often stared at the researchers with his piercing eyes, as if dissecting them and understanding their secrets and desires. The permanent scowl on the boy's face emphasized his unnaturally cold countenance.

The fourth success was a little girl with a sweet smile and bright green eyes, as she was not a Psion but a normal human, yet they had gone through the same procedure with her as with the rest of the survivors. Subject 04 was developing physically more slowly than most, an anomaly of sorts. However, she retained all of the mental capacity and growth befitting her age.

The fifth was a blank-faced black-haired child with a perfect memory and empty smile. He constantly drew what he saw. None of the researchers could figure out what. He was often considered a failure until he would perform a task with complete and utter perfection. He was a storehouse, a wealth of information and his capabilities were quite promising.

The sixth was a blond girl with blue eyes, already showing disturbingly accurate insight into the human mind. She was often seen to be talking conspiratorially to her shadow. Sometimes, there were no reports on her activities. Sometimes, the researchers played with her instead of experimenting. The researchers never remembered their time with her. Orochimaru had already deduced that, from their symptoms of memory blanks and rearranged recollections, Subject 06 was controlling them and rewriting theirs memories according to what suited her needs. He saw this as wonderful progress. The little girl was coming into her own sooner than expected. He would be able to sell her off to the highest bidding organization within months.

Subject 07, however, seemed to be quite a different case. He was a disturbed one-year-old boy with a beat-up teddy and terracotta hair. He often went on rampages when he became too paranoid or frightened and people got killed. This was expected, as he was the clone of the famous serial killer Sasori Akasuna and injected with DNA of the Psionic sociopath, Shukaku. He was extremely hard to control, as he was the very image and rebirth of the killer Shukaku who had disappeared from the face of the planet only two years ago. Orochimaru had convinced Baki, a rebel leader in the nation of Sun to let his wife be the surrogate mother of the child. He told them that it should not be that difficult for her, as the child would be sharing similar DNA (of Sasori, the woman's older brother). She couldn't handle being pregnant with a Psion, and the child burst it's way out of the womb prematurely. Baki abandoned the child eagerly after that, urging Orochimaru to deal with "the little monster". Orochimaru had killed the rebel for those words and gladly taken the child. It was the perfect thing to test his results against Subject 02 and the soon to be Subject 09.

The eighth was a beautiful boy unflinching in the cold with a constant smile. The windows frosted at his presence and people grew cold by simply meeting his gaze. A couple of researchers that touched him had severe cases of frostbite, their limbs often needing to be replaced with cybernetic ones.

And then, there was the ninth, a blond boy of nearly twelve months. Orochimaru's crowning achievement and most adored test subject. It was favored over the others because it could be tested with such versatility. He slept fitfully on the table, making earsplitting noises every once in a while. He had already picked up one language and was gaining more vocabulary by the second. They named it Nine for the nine talents it had already displayed at such a young age and because it was the last, the ninth experiment, to survive. It was a composite child, borne of the combined DNA of the famous dead Psionic civ-rights activists Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki, as well as the dead younger brother of Tsunade-hime herself. If it was ever discovered that the child possessed DNA similar to that of the leader of Sun Nation, he could have the next position as rightful heir to the throne. That, and the child had been requested by Her Imperial Majesty Tsunade-hime of Sun Nation.

Tsunade-hime picked up the fussy child and cradled it as Orochimaru grinned wildly. He had not had this much success in years...not since himself.

"Kabuto." He said to a young adolescent beside him, "Bring Subject 09 some formula. We're going to raise it so that it becomes indestructible. I want to see how far I can take this." His fingers twitched at the thought of taking the experiment apart and putting it back together again. His fidgeting did not go unnoticed.

"How do we know this will work?" The blond known as Tsunade whispered. The ninth success had awoken and was emitting a deafening noise. Tsunade shushed the babe and crooned to it, intent on keeping the child calm. "Will he turn out like my brother?"

"We don't know, Tsunade. We can only wait and then study the outcome." Orochimaru decided to move each child to a separate location, different facilities, different environments, and a way to secure that they would not hatch a plan to escape. The children did not know it yet but they were capable of doing just that and so much more.

Orochimaru had an idea suddenly come upon him. What if he created a child – in secret – that possessed most of these abilities and more? What if that child had a power so great – so divine – that the child gained control over darkness and light itself? The scientist chuckled to himself as he set his sights on the ever-prosperous Uchiha clan.

Years later...

I.

"Does it hurt you if we shock you?"

They were always asking him things, he had noticed. Always. They would ask, Why do you beg? Do you think someone will hear you? Is this bothering you that much? And yet, no matter how he answered, (yes it hurts, I don't want to anymore, please stop) the experimentation would ensue, pushing him to his limits and far beyond what he had ever thought he was capable of.

"...No," he said quietly. He dared not react to the electrode stimulation.

Something prodded him but he ignored it. "Check his condition. He is doing unreasonably well compared to the others."

"The First and Second have already escaped. It was seemingly impossible, but they did it..."

Nine focused in on that thought. Escape. Not a bad idea. No more of them. No more. He endured as they sliced him and watched in fascination as the skin knit itself back together as soon as it was damaged. He hated them.

"The eighth made his twelfth attempt and almost succeeded, and the fifth is already long gone...."

They dressed him and laid him back on the table when they finished for the day. Subject 09 was absolutely precious to them, a pet project, unlike the "others", supposedly. Others? What others? Where were they when obviously he needed help? If he called no one answered. He only reached someone in his dreams. So he did nothing. Doing something meant an anomaly in his daily attitude and anomalies were to be understood and picked apart and analyzed. Just like him.

"Nano...implementing...shouldn't be difficult..."

The voices Nine hated kept returning to him. Again and again they tormented him with their incessant whispers. His hearing was going. The sounds faded in and out, blaring then hushed, blaring then hushed.

"...ready...wish to name him...?"

He hated them.

"...personality...replicate...?"

They would not stop, ever. They were so loud, so loud.

"...The type has yet to reveal...."

It was their fault that he was suffering. Their fault.

"Maybe...like his progenitor...will later begin to show..."

And there was no escaping the noise, any noise. Any sound was amplified in his ears. Any footfall was like thunder crashing and thunder itself was hell. The little boy attempted to struggle against his bonds. He failed. It was futile, like everything else he did. Or, rather, did not. He had been laid out, immobile, on a cold hard surface, unable to do anything.

One of the voices, female, he knew it was, and so very very sad, said, "Why is he not responding?"

The other voice, an ambiguously masculine one that crawled against his skin, slithered as a snake does, hissed, "Peace, Tsunade-hime. You will have your little brother back before you know it. He will be just like the child. You will see how perfect he is."

The boy felt a pain in his arm. Another needle? What now? What else could they possibly do to him that they had not done already? He still remembered his last vivisection. His skin remembered the pain. He was struck by an idea. He wondered...could he prevent the needle from sticking in? He concentrated on that thought. What would resist a needle? Diamond. He would be as tough and hard as diamond.

The machines surrounding him beeped. His heart rate slowed. The one called Tsunade gasped. The boy's skin turned as hard as stone. As the scientist pressed the needle against the boy, it snapped.

The masculine voice hissed out laughter (or a revolting imitation of amusement). The sound made the boy feel disgusted, but he could not gag. He could do nothing but breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. He hated them. He hated them.

The thought faded as the snake-one laughed again. The white walls turned black. He hated them....

His world lost its focus entirely.

II.

He became aware again to the sound of sobs, muffled by a handkerchief. He struggled to do something, anything to stop the cries of pain. Those infuriating whimpering noises caused by suffering. Suffering? If he were capable of such an action, he would have scoffed. What could they possibly know of that word? What reason could the ones that did this to him possibly have for tears? What reasons greater than his? None. They paled in comparison.

He grew angry in his brooding. The people there never once gave a care to him. He had been rendered immobile for the greater part of his life, unable to even relieve himself without their regulating it. It was a pathetic existence. They had no idea that he was awake the entire time. And he could hear everything that was going on, from the insatiable couple that screwed each other constantly (and loudly) one floor below him, to the girl who kept crying to herself in a hall closet because she was so lonely. He had heard the women talking about him and how he could have been a looker if he would have grown up normally. He hated those empty-headed twits. He often heard them talking about their "problems" in the halls, on other levels of the Sound Facility. How their boyfriends just never treated them like queens or the man couldn't get it up quick enough. Maybe they hadn't had a good fuck in a long time, if what he was hearing was correct. He assumed it was. After all, his hearing was impeccable.

He hated them...

That enraged thought alone gave him the push he needed to command his useless muscles and bring them into action. He cracked an eye open for the first time in many hours and flinched, unused to the light and colors. Oddly enough, he kept trying to hear what he saw. He detected and listened to the vibrations of the woman's life functions. She looked older than him – certainly sounded older – that much he knew. But her look and sound were completely disproportionate. Her sound was that of a run-down human, while her look was that of a woman in full bloom.

He tried to raise his head and failed miserably. The woman noticed the rustling noises he made and looked over at him. Her eyes widened in shock as she registered what he had just done. She gaped, "Nine...? You...you aren't supposed to... The drugs...you should be sedated..."

The boy heard a quality in the woman's voice and pulse that indicated agitation. She was afraid. She shook her head, as if trying to deny what was right in front of her. Deny that her precious Nine had somehow wrenched himself out of his medicated haze. Stupid in the boy's opinion but then, a lot of things these people did were foolish. And very very bad.

He opened his mouth and forced his vocal cords to work, trying to replicate the vibrations he had detected coming from other males in Sound. "No...cry...." He cursed inwardly as he realized that speaking was harder than it sounded. He moistened his lips and tried again, "You should...not...cry.... You...have no...." You have no reason to. The words would not form, his tongue thick and heavy. He coughed and, wearied, his eyes closed of their own volition. He cursed the sedatives bitterly, wishing for a way to rid himself of them.

He was suddenly distracted by the rustling of a woman's clothes and her pulsations becoming louder. She took steps closer and he felt something soft brush against his forehead. What was she doing? She kissed him? Why? "I'm sorry. You're right. They wouldn't have wanted me to mourn them like this. I won't cry anymore. Thank you." A hand gently caressed his cheek.

No.

No, no, no; she could not do this. She could not treat him like that. It was unpardonable. After everything they had done to him, she acts so familiarly with him...like she has a special bond with him?

No.

He tried to shout, to scream, anything. Nothing worked, nothing happened. Despair washed his soul. And then, suddenly, he knew what had to be done. What he could do. A pressure emitted itself from his throat, a high-pitched scream undetectable to normal humans and Psions alike. He heard something crack and felt millions of sharp things slice into his skin. Not good. He focused on being like diamond again and his skin repelled the sharp things. The woman was screaming for help and he screamed louder. He felt satisfaction as heard her body crumple to the ground.

A revelation came upon him. If he can make himself impermeable to objects, why not make himself immune to the sedative?

His entire being zeroed in on that notion. He emitted a different kind of scream this time, broken and scratchy. He felt his blood stir but instead concentrated on the drugs. The sedative particles in his bloodstream vibrated once, then burst. His eyes snapped open. Energy flooded him. He could hear the sounds of Sound facility as the waves moved against his skin. He looked down at the fallen woman. She had a strange shape, round in some places and even rounder in others. Her hair was long and shiny, and looking at his reflection in what was left of the glass, merely a lighter shade of his hair. He thought for a moment, then swung his bare legs over the side of the bed and took a step forward, wobbling before he decided that he would be able to walk steadily. He approached the glass and studied himself. He was small, and young. He didn't know how old he was, though. All he knew was that he had been there for a long, long time.

His face twisted with a lachrymose fury. His head filled with thoughts of wrecking the entire facility, just as they had destroyed his life. He roared. The vibrations caused by the sound were intense, cracking the walls, shaking the structure of the Sound Facility. Alarms went off, screeched. People whispered, yelped, wondering what possibly went on. The boy, vaguely satisfied with the damage he had done roared again, this time so loud that his own eyes bled. The building started to collapse. He fell over as it tilted and began to crumble. Pillars and supports beams came crashing down. He grinned, wishing to witness the completion of his devastation but he knew it was the time for him to escape. He raised a fist and reached out with his will, amplifying the soft sound of his hand moving through the air impossibly. As he smashed his fist into the wall, it exploded outward. Sunlight stretched out it's warm arms in to greet him. The noise of the morning was just a step away. He jumped out of the hole he had made, using the sound again to push himself to heights in the sky he had never before reached. He screamed at a low frequency, dissembling the grains in the concrete of the structure and collapsing the building completely. He watched as his cry began ending the lives of all who were in the Sound Facility. Nine sighed, reveling in the blessed quiet as he stood amid the debris for a few moments.

Freedom.

Freedom.