The world was burning.

For as a far as the eye could see, all there was consisted of hungry flames and darkening smoke- suffocating the sparse light- as it attempted to devour all within its path. Yet despite that, he could still see the one responsible for his current position with a crystal clarity.

A child, barely a few years older than himself, just stared down at the younger with that patient smile in place.

His snow white hair was like a beacon within the darkness- calling out to any and all who could see it with it exotic coloring- yet it had been those emerald eyes- those unnatural eyes which had once been filled with a deceptive warmth- that had truly drawn in the younger; all but hypnotically luring him into this situation.

If he could the younger of the two probably would have cursed the older using those words his Father always told him never to repeat. As it was though, it was all the younger child could do at the moment was to just glare his frustration, his anger- at both himself for falling for the ruse and the older for what he had done- with his lone good eye- the other now nothing more than a hollow void within his skull- the golden orb once within it now held within delicate fingers of the emerald-eyed boy's bloody hand -while vainly struggling against his bindings but only managed to gain himself rope burns.

A soft chuckle left the older child, a fondness for his tone the younger loathed instantly.

"I'll see you around Love and if not... Well, at least I'll have something to remember you by."

He twirled the child's eye between two fingers as though it was a finely crafted diamond and he a Jeweler measuring its worth before flashing the four-year-old struggling against his bindings another deceptively warm smile, only to be rewarded by another of those adorable glares that left him more than tempted to kneel down and remove the other eyes. Yet there was no time for that; if anything he had already spent too much time with the lost child then he should have.

The flames were closing in.

The golden-eyed child could feel them barely flickering against his clothes and skin as he watched the Brit turn on heel and leave without so much as a backward glance.

If not for the gag, he would have screamed and cursed the older the whole way yet as it was all the rouge haired child could do was struggle against the thick ropes digging roughly into his skin and hope for a miracle he doubted would ever come.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-

Crash!

A soft groan left the figure on the bed as the alarm shattered against the far wall before ahead of rouge hair peeked out from under the mass of blankets.

It took a moment, but soon a young man- who appeared to be in his early twenties- untangled himself from the comforts of the warm blankets as mismatched eyes glanced towards the mess that was once his alarm with a hint of sleepy annoyance- Great, there went another. Maybe he should look into finding a way to make those nuisances invincible? It would save him the effort of having to rebuild the blasted thing every morning- before glancing towards the window.

It was still dark outside, having a couple more hours until Dawn's first light would break the horizon and if the man was honest; he would much rather spend those few remaining hours within the comfort of his bed yet Duty called and would wait for no one.

Flickering on the news, the rouge haired man headed for the shower; keeping an ear open for any new occurrences within the area.

"-leaving treacherous driving conditions and flights grounded across the country. Divers have been warned journeys could take three times longer than usual-"

Wonderful. Sighing softly, the rouge reached into the shower; sticking a pale hand beneath the steaming water to ensure it was the right temperature before climbing inside. The hot water was bliss considering the morning chill that had filled his room due to the excess snow building up outside.

"-Twenty-six people where killed and a hundred and fifty injured early this morning when a bomb went off at The Buckingham Palace-"

Sighing softly, the rouge haired man cut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist- allowing it to hang tightly around his hips as he used another towel to try to dry his hair- before making his way to the darkened kitchen. Honestly, there wasn't much inside: Cold leftovers from the night before, half a carton of milk, a couple of dishes in the drying rack and an empty bag of coffee grinds sitting innocently upon the counter - a sight that had him crooning mournfully- as though silently mocking him.

So much for that idea. What was there, the man thought to himself as threw away another empty bag he could have sworn was half full the night before, some sort of pixie that just waited until he was desperate for a nice hot cup of coffee before stealing it all?

Brushing the childish thought from his mind, the redhead grabbed his clothes from where they were hanging on the back of a kitchen chair before completely his morning ritual of hopping on one foot- while trying not to fall or drop his towel- as he proceeded to get dressed. Once that was finished, he throws the towels into the washer before making his way towards the door- grabbing his coat and ensuring his keys were still resting inside his breast pocket before sending his darkened kitchen a longing look- with a soft resigned sigh, it would seem today was going to be another day of 'Grab and Go' for breakfast.

The moment he sets a foot outside- the rouge is greeted by a chill breeze that gently kisses his cheeks and ruffled his hair- and freezing snow that comes up to his knees. To be honest, he's tempted to turn back so as to hid underneath his blankets and call in sick but there's no coffee in his house and that there- no matter what he may claim otherwise- was the deal breaker; so he takes a breathe and trudges his way forward.

There was a small café a quarter mile from his current home name: Savio's that made one of the best espressos he had tasted on this side of the Atlantic. It was also one of the few places one could find open- even in a storm like this- as the owner, a dirty blonde haired man named Savio with a thick Brazilian accent, lived directly above his little café.

The soft tinkle of a bell interrupts the soft humming coming from within the café as the rouge pushes open the glass door; which in turn draws the attention of the previously mentioned owner from where he had been slaving away at the stove once more. The mouthwatering scent of pork filtered his senses- yet twisted something inside his stomach into tight knots of disgust that all but smothered his hunger- as the rouge haired man stepped into the warmth awaiting him inside.

"Ah, Red," Savio turns on heel so to face what he strongly suspects will be his only customer for the day, "I was wondering if you would show up today. Your Usual, I presume?"

"You would assume correctly," The man now identified as 'Red' confirmed as he takes a seat at a table tucked with a corner by the door. It was the seat he always took; the one that permitted him to see everything and everyone within the establishment while close to the door yet out of sight unless one was actively searching for him.

"And I can't tempt you with any meat?"

"Nyet."

The answer is blunt and straightforward for while Red was certain the meat would taste as delicious as it smelled; a part of the rouge wouldn't let him touch it, let alone actually eat it. Something just never felt right about it though he couldn't quite place exactly what the issue was... A spice maybe?

"Shame," Savio mumbles- though he knows the rouge can hear him despite on the other side of the room- as he turns to prepare a large espresso and an acorn tart- the rouge had such strange tastes but then again who was he to judge?- for his only customer, "I had a nice, young one I've been slow roasting all night just for my costumes today. "

"I suppose you'll just have to eat it yourself," a smooth Russian accented voice cuts through the silence as the rouge lone eyes trailed him- or more specifically the cup of espresso in his hand- across the café.

"I suppose I will," Savio admitted- not that he minded while he liked sharing his work; he also enjoyed a few meals to himself- as he placed the Russian's order into a 'To Go' bag and headed for the cash registered, "I take it this is to go?"

"Unfortunately."

Considering the weather, the redhead doubted he would have time to enjoy his meal in solitude and make it to work on time even if he wanted and therefore was likely going to be stuck eating inside his Ashton Martin, if not his office. Most likely then not it would be in his office as Red couldn't stand the idea of eating inside a vehicle and the possibility of crumbs getting into everything.

"That'll be Two eight-seven."

Paying for his breakfast, the rouge gives a final wave over his shoulder to the Brazilian man's pleasantries and once more began his effort of safely guiding his way through the literal Death Trap the streets had become overnight.

His efforts pay off though as he's one of the first people to arrive at Headquarters- the moment he steps through those doors, the rouge carefully tucks 'Red' away into the dark recesses of his mind; leaving 'Agent Red' in the man's face as he allows his trademark smirk to filter into place- where he had been promptly greeted by a lobby full of sleep-deprived Q Division Interns, who had apparently overworked themselves yet again and ended up trapped inside the building overnight instead of risking going home.

And to think, Red had actually thought he was done looking after children when his Godson- who deemed himself old enough to live by himself -moved to Texas and his Nephew- a sweet yet naïve child who had become rather determined to create his own 'legacy'- to New York...

Apparently not.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Red allowed his lone golden eye to lock onto the assorted crowd of interns- who were all staring at him as though he was some sort of animal at a zoo- before speaking, "Whoever is not within a shower in the next two minutes..." He pauses for a moment, making sure he's at least -glanced over each and everyone one of them- so they would know how serious he truly was- before continuing, "I'm shooting them."

It was amazing how swiftly a room could be cleared with just three little words falling from his lips.

What? He had a rather heightened sense of smell, making it painfully obvious to him that none of them had bothered to shower the night before. Hell, knowing Q's Little 'Geniuses' that had likely forgotten to shower for days- it sure smelled like it- as they were too busy with whatever they deemed their next 'Great Breakthrough'.

Shaking his head, the rouge boards the elevator and continues on his way to his office. Hopefully- and with a lot of luck- he'll be capable of enjoying his breakfast in peace before the 'Little Geniuses' somehow discover a way to set the showers on fire...

Again.

Chapter 1

He is what he is, but he's not what you see.

His name is Red, though it wasn't always such.

He's had many names over the years: Brother, Subject Zero, Friend, Son, Agent, Enemy, Lover, Uncle and another...

Another was the One he couldn't quite remember- one that been there before all the other's he accumulated like trophies over the years- despite the fact, the Doctors had insisted Time would tell all...

He was still waiting but time never said anything to him outside of the fact that his hourglass was slowly running out with every moment he wasted waiting for an answer he might never receive. So he tries not to think about 'Another'; if he remembers, he'll remember and if not... Well, he's survived without knowing.

Next came 'Brother'; Younger Brother to be exact.

Brother is a blur but he does remember some of it. He was a sickly child- always trapped inside in his bed and barely able to walk across his bedroom without collapsing- that never able to do much of anything without coughing up too much blood to be considered healthy, but that was okay; he had Brother.

From the start, it had always been him and his Brother- he doesn't know what happened to their mother. She was a taboo topic within their home so he never asked about her that way His Brother would never get upset over the matter- against the world. No one had cared about them or what happened to them as there were too many runaways, orphans and Street Rats for anyone to try. What did it matter if one child died when there were ten more to replace it?

So for as long as he could remember, they had only each other and for Him; that was plenty as He didn't require anyone or anything else and for a while, they were happy.

They had a home which provided warmth and shelter, there was a retired nurse down the street- an elderly woman with silver hair, crows feet around the corner of her eyes, and deep laugh lines- that would look after him while his brother worked so they always a steady income and something to eat for dinner. He felt like a burden most days- he couldn't do anything to help like other's would have been capable of doing- but his Brother always seemed to know what he was thinking and wasted no time in cutting his dark thoughts in half.

'You're three, don't aspire to grow up too fast on me just yet.'

But then those days were brought to a brutal end...

At first, no one noticed when children began to go missing- they were just too many to keep track of but then a wealthy businessman's son was taken. It was strange how no one cared until those with money were suddenly involved and offering a vast amount of currency for any information on the matter.

Just like that all eyes were suddenly wide open and watching everything like a hawk, yet somehow; no one noticed anything when the Pastor's Daughter disappeared while playing at the park just down the street from where they used to live.

Over time, things became worse instead of better; everyone was in full-blown paranoia and no one permitted their children outside longer than they had too once there were too many street children missing for them to ignore. It eventually got to the point parents would haul the street children and the runaways into their homes at night and refuse to grant them leave until the sun was well within the sky the next morning.

After that, things calmed for a bit until a woman that lived near the riverbank reported her neighbor's door had been broken off its hinges sometime during the previous night. The Enforcers discovered the parent's corpses in their beds with a single quarter size vacuum in their heads. Further investigates unearthed indications of a conflict within the children's room yet no children anywhere to be seen.

At the time, he didn't know any of this except for in brief passing when the nurse- he was ashamed to admit he had forgotten her name- would familiarize him with the neighborhood gossip though he had only listened with half an ear out of politeness. He should have given more regard to her words though it likely wouldn't have done him any good.

After all, he wasn't taken from his home; instead, he was seized from the Hospital while experiencing one of his attacks.

He wasn't even aware he had been stolen until he attained consciousness within a dimmed room enclosed by hundreds of other children. That had marked the completion of his time as 'Brother' and once the scientist- Doctors, whatever they wanted to call themselves as their titles wouldn't change what they were or what they did- decided on who they wanted as their 'lab rats' would be the inception of his life as 'Subject Zero'.

His time as Brother had been full of warmth, comfort, love and a false sense of hope- that one day, things would get better as his brother refused to let him believe anything else- while his time as 'Subject Zero' was the exact opposite.

There was no warmth here-just the bitter iciness of an empty that was always so cold you could see your own breathe- no comfort- instead there was the harshness of steel and knives, the empty words of a monster pretending to be a man- no love- the only thing they loved was their experiments and that was only if they succeeded- and no hope.

They had made sure to crush that first, but there was a new sensation that he would later discover was called 'Hate'.

That, the toddler known only as 'Subject Zero' learned, was something he had in Spades.

But to be honest, he's getting a bit ahead of himself, isn't he? To start with... Maybe he should focus at the Beginning.

His life as Subject Zero originated when he was three years old on Christmas Eve -talk about presents you don't want- during what many would later profess to be the 'Coldest Winter of the Century'.

Due to his ailing appearance, most of the scientist avoided him when it came time for them to chose their 'Lab Rats'- After all, what was the point? To them, he was so unmistakably ill he would possibly die in the first insignificant operation they endeavored on him... That was if the possible subject even managed to persist that long- but there was one, who unlike the others; didn't disregard him- oh how he wished the monster in disguise did- instead those sharp stormy eyes seemed to intentionally regard the toddler wherever he went.

They didn't have names- no one ever called them but anything but the numbers branded into their shoulders- and if they ever did, they eventually forgot them as names were no use to anyone here. Something a few subjects discovered the hard way when they tried using their lineage to intimidate the Doctors only for the Monsters to volunteer them for whatever twisted scheme they needed a Subject for then.

Zero had spent the first two months there curled up- into as small of a ball as he physically could- in the back of the room- keeping his head down and his mouth shut- which in turn made him easier to overlook. For a while, it seemed to work as twenty slowly shrunk to seventeen then fourteen then ten yet he was never once carted away; but all luck runs out eventually.

There's an old experiment the 'Doctors' had spent years trying to make a reality but for some reason, any Subject who undergoes the procedure dies before they even reach the quarter mark point. To be 'Gifted' this operation is to be Gifted Death.

So really, Zero finds he's not all that surprised Doctor wishes to 'Gift' him the operation. After all, he was already half dead and incapable of doing much of anything else but becoming another faceless corpse.

Three- a once brunette teenager and an unofficial mother hen of an older sister to a now dead brother- doesn't accept Zero's fate with the sign reassignment as Zero himself. She's angry as he pushes him behind her before a scowl twists onto her face- almost reopening the stitches wound around her head- as she shouts bloody murder at the monster of a man who just seems bored with her sudden defiance.

Though he knows she's trying to protect him, Zero cannot help but wish Three would just be quiet- Can't she see he's not worth it and if she kept this up the Monster would just hurt Three even more than he already did?- and leave him to his Fate. He doesn't want anyone to get hurt because of him so he tries to slip by her-to get her to move while she could- but Three is stubborn and he cannot pry his wrist from her tight grip.

In the end, it doesn't matter though- it never does as one way or another the Monsters always win- for Zero finds himself numb and hollow as crimson liquid and brain matter slowly drips from his hair and onto the white floors. The Monster just sighs before plucking him from the ground and carting him out of the deathly silent room.

It was the last time he saw the other Nine.

Zero doesn't really remember the operation; Just the glacial steel of a metal slab against his bare back, a needle penetrating his arm and then intolerable agony unlike anything he had felt before- It was as though someone was tearing him apart molecule by molecule starting with the molecules which created his Atoms- before the scent of blood reached him and screams- possibly his own now that he looked back on it- deafened him.

His mind must have approached its limit and shutdown at one point because the last thing Zero remembered was the sensation of drowning in his own blood before he woke alone within an unfamiliar white room. For the next two years, the white room would become his 'Home'- for it was where he was always returned once monster decided to take a break from his never-ending experiments- while driving him half mad at the same time.

White, white, white. It was all Zero ever viewed unless the bad days left the walls dyed red. Red...

He preferred red- It was also the only thing that stayed constant in his so-called existence - as it gives a sense of life and color to the empty void encompassing him so he tries to make red stay... Monster doesn't approve.

Especially once Zero's mind finally discerns there's red beneath his skin and if he could pierce it, he could have all the red he wanted.

Which is probably why Monster brought him 'Friend' though Zero was reluctant to claim the other as such.

Friend is strange- he smiles more than anyone else here and his unnatural emerald eyes shine brightly every time he talks but there's something not right about him- in Zero's opinion.

And no it wasn't his hair, though Zero would admit; he had never seen anyone so young with hair the color of snow before.

It was something else, something in those eyes that unnerved him to the point Zero just wanted 'Friend' to stay away, but its not like he had a choice in the matter. So he tries his best to ignore the uneasy sensation in favor of concentrating on something else to direct himself with; like how he was going to paint the walls once 'Friend' left.

Maybe he would attempt handprints again?

Proper ones this time instead of turning them all into turkeys.

He's six when his life transitions once more but this time for the better.

His day starts out normal enough: Test, experiments, lessons, Friend's visit, a fight in cages with another Subject -where only one was allowed to walk away- and then back to his room where the white jacket 'Friend' got him after he refused to stop seeking red was waiting.

To be honest, Zero abhors that jacket.

There were too many latches, the sleeves were too long, he couldn't grasp anything- let alone red - when he was wearing it and worse of all; it was as white as his prison. Why was it always white?

Furthermore, Zero just couldn't comprehend why anyone would create a jacket that restricted their mobility while forcing the wearing to hug themselves and he highly doubts it has anything to do with 'installing a sense of self-love' like 'Friend' originally claimed. Friend' was probably just getting tired of him smearing red all over his white hair though Zero doesn't understand why that would be.

But that didn't matter, Zero knew how to escape the jacket- He just needed to wait for Monster and Friend to leave then he could access red again- all he had to do was be patient; so he rolls on his side, curls into a ball and tries to ignore the world around him.

He's in the process of painting his walls a beautiful shade of crimson when he hears a soft click coming from his prison's door. A part of him wonders if Monster had returned for something or if 'Friend' wanted another 'sleepover', but to his mild surprise neither of the two walks through the heavy metal door.

Instead, it was a man Zero had never seen before who halts in the doorway, gazing directly at him with intense golden eyes- Huh, so he wasn't the only person born with eyes like that?- that slowly stray from his being and to the wall behind him. He wonders if the man is going to get angry like Monster does or upset like Friend tend to do when they find him conspiring with the red to overthrow the unbearable white.

Apparently, neither as instead of storming his way, the strange man with the silver-speckled hair slowly crouches down- keeping his hands in front of him and close to the ground- before speaking in a soothing tone, "Hello."

He can't help but blink slowly as the silence stretches onwards. Was the man actually expecting him to respond? The thought alone was a foreign concept; no one talked to him besides Friend and Friend never expected him to respond. Hesitantly, he bites his lip- ignoring the coppery taste of the red he had smear across his face in a fit of giggles- before attempting to mimic the man's word.

"H-hul-le?" his voice is soft and raspy from lack of use as the only time he ever did use it was when he couldn't muffle the screams. Zero is certain he's mispronounced the word but the man doesn't seem to mind as he offers a slight gentle smile that felt more sincere than any 'Friend' granted him.

"What are you doing, Little One?"

Blinking, Zero glances down at his hands than the wall behind him before permitting his gaze to drift back towards the man, where he proceeds to hold up his hands as though they were the answer, "Culuw."

"And what a pretty color that is," The man speaks softly as his hands reach into his pockets- Zero cannot help but tense slightly. Monster only reached into his pockets before something bad would happen- only to pull out some type of long fabric of the same shade, "I happened to have a scarf of that same color. If you come over here, I'll let you have it."

Zero doesn't even have to think about it- the man didn't feel dangerous or strange in the sense Monster and Friend did. Plus he had something new of the same shade which Zero adored- before he finds himself slowly edging his way towards the man.

Throughout it all, the man doesn't move- even if those eyes follow Zero's every move- even when the blood splattered six year old gently lifts the strange fabric from his hand and tilts it every which way as though trying to piece together exactly what it was. Which was exactly what Zero was attempting to do. It was some type of cloth but there were no holes in it so it couldn't be clothes and Zero wasn't permitted blankets so it couldn't be that.

The golden-eyed man just chuckles softly as he slowly reaches for the clothes, "Here, let me show you."

If later asked, Zero would forever deny panicking when the man attempted to wrap the strange fabric around his neck but once he had calmed down, Zero fount it was rather comfortable instead of suffocating- cutting into his windpipes so to halt his oxygen. Violent struggles as it tightens and he can't breathe, he can't breathe- like he first assumed it would be.

He blinks languidly at the man who offers him a strangely tender smile, before attempting to cover the scratches on the man's face with red- red made everything better so it could fix his mistake... Right?- causing the elder man to chuckle softly.

"Sorry about that," The man speaks softly as he meet the Zero's eyes, "I probably should have warned you beforehand, huh?"

Zero just blinked at him- unsure how to answer or if he could arrange the words that he would require to do so- but the man doesn't seem to mind, "Alright then. I'm about to pick you up and then we are leaving. "

Leaving?

Now that has Zero's attention- After all, no one ever leaves the Lab unless it was in thousands of pieces or ashes in the wind- as he gives the man an alarmed look and tries to step back, but there's a gentle grip on his wrist and he can't.

"Easy, It's okay." The man speaks softly, holding out his other hand as though to pacify him, "Everything's okay. "

The man's voice is a distraction, Zero learns as he notices his feet are no longer on the ground as the man straightens himself out with one arm around his waist and another gently smoothing his hair- a gesture that feels familiar but he cannot recall where he could have ever experienced such a thing... Maybe from before the Lab? Was there ever a 'before'? - as though to calm him, "Everything is going to be okay. Trust me."

For some insane reason that Zero would never be able to explain, the six-year-old stops endeavoring to pry himself from the man's vice-grip in favor of meeting the other's eyes. There's something about- something within them- that makes him want to believe the man and his words... Either way, if he's wrong; he'll be dead soon enough and at least then he could finally bid Monster farewell.

Sighing softly, Zero allowed his head to rest upon the man's shoulder listening to the steady rhythm of the man's heart as the other walked further away from the only place he could remember.

The last time Zero saw the Lab and the Monsters that lurked within, the building had become nothing more than a furiously burning flame and dark smoke that filled the sky and could likely be seen from miles away. That same day- standing out in the frozen wasteland with the silver-haired man- who had helped so many escape that Living Hell- Subject Zero died and Red was born in his place.

To be honest, Red feels lighter than he has in years as he watches the fire turn into smoldering ruins of what might as well represent his past.

Turning, He smiles at the man who the others had called 'Agent' or 'Victor' before smearing red further onto the man's white jacket.

What could he say?

He still didn't like that color.