Disclaimer: This chapter is probably the darkest of them all. Just a heads up, there's some softcore torture. Jeez I feel weird writing that. It's not too bad though, my imagination is nowhere near dark enough to vividly detail that. Also forgive me for some of the language that will be used. I went more with the modern American idea of a gangster.

Quailing and Questioning

Five minutes later and my new friend's tied to one of the folding chairs in the junk room. Courtesy of the wonderful invention that is duct tape.

I pulled up a folding chair and took a seat in front of him. One leg crossed over another, and with hands folded in front of me. His Micro Uzi is laying on my couch, next to the Nagant revolver. His sport bike is still where I left it.

We've been staring at each other for the past few minutes. Me with a smirk on my face, him with a defiant glare. Secretly I'm debating exactly where I'm going with this. My first idea was to reenact the one scene from Reservoir Dogs. My lack of a straight razor and the fact that Mr. Blonde had ended up dead at the end of that scene resulted in me dismissing this idea. It's a shame, it would have made me feel like Vincent van Gogh. Except I wouldn't have been the one to lose my ear.

Still would have been art.

This man was the final nail in the coffin. I'd let the other two leave in a relatively decent condition. They were idiots, so I pitied them. They also hadn't shot up my house. In particular he had shot up the couch.

The place Saber would probably make me sleep if she did decide to help me. Guess I'd have to sleep next to her now. Strangely the idea didn't seem that discomforting. It would be playing into her hand though. So I'd vehemently argue against it for the sake of principle.

Before I'd have to deal with that I'd have to deal with the guy in front of me. He'd pissed me off more than the other two. It wouldn't be too unfair to teach him a lesson. Besides, pity was one thing but unnecessary mercy would give them the impression that I was soft. Which wasn't something you wanted to be seen as by people like this.

This is why I'd restrained him in a sitting position in a metal chair. Even though he tried to hide it behind his glare, I could tell that the location of his wounds and his position in the chair was causing him severe pain.

If I had jumper cables I would have just gone full Trevor on this goon. Instead we're sitting here and staring at each other. It's almost like we're little kids, trying to see who blinks first. He still has that glare on his face. I still have my smirk. I can tell he's furious, but I'm not sure if that anger's aimed at me for catching him or at himself for being caught. Even as this thought pops into my head I can see some form of anxiety deep in his eyes.

The man's obviously new to this type of situation. And I'm, well, very rusty. It'd been a while since I'd done this sort of thing.

Wait . . . . Where did that thought come from? When had I last done this? Brief images of red fabric flash in my mind. A blurry man in a red suit. It gives me a headache to think about.

I end up cringing and as a result I'm the first to blink. My guest grins at my defeat. I can only sigh. "Don't go anywhere." I get up and go into the fridge. Need something strong to get over all this shit I've been dealing with. That brief image of a man clad in red lingers in my thoughts. No clue as to what it means. Guess I'll cross that bridge when I have to.

I come back and reclaim my seat, now with a bottle of absinthe in one hand and the 1911 in the other.

Since his mouth isn't bound he tries to make conversation. "What do you want with me?"

I drink a swig out of the bottle. "I could ask you the same. Who sent you?" He remains silent. I take another gulp of absinthe. "Fine. Let's start simple. What's your name?"

He glares at me. "Fuck you."

I chuckle at this. "Phuk Yu? That sounds foreign." He blinks in confusion. The joke completely flew over his head.

I sigh. "My name's Dante. Dante Di Prinzi. Heard of me?" He's gone silent again. I smile at him. "I'll take that as a yes. Want some?" I shake the bottle in front of him.

He scowls at me. "I don't drink that shit."

I just calmly nod, one hand under my chin as if I'm pondering something. "That's a shame." I get up from the chair again.

He looks up at me. "What?"

Without answering, I grab the chair he's seated at and fling him into a wall. He smashes into it and the chair falls over. I walk over to him. Now he's struggling to get out. He looks up at me once more, this time with an anguished expression. I stare at him with a cold glare. Then I pour the absinthe on him. Sure it's a waste of good alcohol but the result is somewhat satisfying.

At first he's shouting profanity at me, then some of it gets into his gunshots. His curses become screams.

"Had to sterilize it."

He manages to calm down enough to speak. "What . . . do . . . you . . . think this . . . is? The . . . movies?!"

I just stare at him. "Nope, I just heard it was painful. If I thought this was the movies I would be tossing a lighter on you right about now." He starts to struggle again. Idly I point the 1911 at him. It stops his struggling. He's still twitching a bit from the pain. Poor guy even bit his lower lip pretty hard. It's starting to bleed.

I pick him and the chair up and set him back into his former sitting position. "So, what did you say your name was?" He spits on my face. I slowly wipe the spittle away and sigh. "Ok Phuk Yu, you want to be that way?"

I get up and start searching through the house. Eventually I find what I was looking for. An unopened box. One that contains a speaker for my MP3 player. When I said this house was practically the same as the other one I meant it. Always buy things in pairs. I set up the speaker and pulled out my MP3 player.

Then I returned to my friend. "Thought I'd play some music. You know, to lighten the atmosphere and all that."

He stares at me like I'm stupid. The song I pick is one I reserved for situations like this. Unfortunately it's not 'Stuck in the Middle with You'. Instead it's the gem 'Call Me Maybe' by Carly Rae Jepsen. For once, Canada has given me something I can use. Other than maple syrup.

Though I could have used Justin Bieber like the CIA did, I avoided doing so. I wanted to be somewhat original. The song starts playing as loud as possible and my guest's eyes widen in shock. The words that come from his mouth cause my eyes to widen in shock too.

"This is my favorite song." The way he says it tells me he's being genuine.

My only question is, "You speak English?"

He nods and replies in an accented but understandable English. "Yes, I went to America. Too many fat people so I came back to Japan."

Well that was sporadic. Then he starts singing the song. Motherfucker memorized the lyrics. Gone is the defiant thug that had tried to kill me and was resisting torture. He was replaced by a grown man singing a song meant for adolescent teenage girls with boy trouble. The wonders of music. Or else maybe this piece of shit was mocking me. The lopsided grin on his face shows genuine happiness. That kind of denies that theory. He continues singing the song until it ends.

Then we just sit there in silence. Not quite sure as to how to continue this. I'm fairly certain he's got a few screws loose in that noggin of his. "So . . . . That was . . . telling."

He replies with the straightest face. "Could you play it again?" The guy seems to have forgotten the entire point of me playing it in the first place.

I don't think this is how an interrogation is supposed to go down. Maybe I should have just water boarded him.

"Why do you even like this song? It hasn't been popular since it first came out."

"September 20, 2011."

"What?"

"That's when it was first released. Almost eight years ago."

I kind of just stare at him. I don't know what else to do. The man knows trivia about a stupid pop song for little girls. What do you say to that?

"Would you play it again? You can sing with me if you want." Does he think it's karaoke night or some shit? We're not two buddies getting drinks at a bar. For fucks sake, I vaguely threatened to set him on fire.

"What the fuck?"

He furiously nods his head. "This song, it makes me so happy, it takes away the pain."

"Ok . . . ?" Wasn't my job to grant him pain? I was the interrogator, not his damn therapist.

He nods again. "Let us sing!"

I just open my mouth in a state of awe. "Fuck no."

He glares at me. "Ah, I see. You are one of those men that is not confident in his sexuality."

"Where the hell did that even come from?"

He smirks at me. "You seemed like a man who did not care about the world. Yet you fear for your masculinity."

At this point I'm feeling a combination of anger, confusion, and doubt. "No. I don't 'fear for my masculinity', asshole."

He smiles. A smile that says 'gotcha bitch'. "Yes, you seem like the type of man that really likes assholes."

Was that a gay joke? This dipshit just said a gay joke. A shitty joke at that. To the man who was going to torture him. While he was a crude motherfucker, I had to at least say he had balls. "Am I supposed to be insulted by that?" He shrugs. Clearly I should have tied him up tighter.

"No one should be insulted by what they are." Well, this man went from common street thug to a motivational speaker in the blink of an eye. "But you're still a fag." This. Fucking. Guy. I stare him straight in the eyes. That was uncalled for.

"No. This is a fag." I pull a cigarette out of my pocket. "And you're a piece of shit."

He grins. "You aren't even British."

I chuckle. "Tea and crumpets, bitch." Then I light the cigarette. Taking a quick drag calms my nerves.

"You must think you're some type of badass. Cigarettes and alcohol. It's like a little kid trying to be a man."

"Like you're one to judge. Your favorite song's 'Call Me Maybe', bet your yakuza buddies would love to hear that."

He actually laughs at this. "They agree with me. Karaoke nights are fun." He's giving me a headache. "And it appears you already know who sent me. Any particular reason for this interrogation?"

Well he caught me. This guy's smarter than he looks. "I was hoping you'd have info on who he's working with actually."

He flashes a grin. "Why didn't you just ask?"

"There's no way it's that easy." He shrugs again.

"My loyalty is to my boss. His partners don't matter to me." That's not good business.

"Tell me who they are."

He smirks at me. "First you got to do something for me." Oh, damn, I'm getting bad vibes from this.

"What do you want?"

He starts laughing hysterically. This definitely confirms the loose screws theory. "Sing with me!"

I can only sigh. "Ok, I'll do it." He smiles. It's like he did actually forget the whole 'getting shot' thing. I turn on the music.

Then I start a duet with the dude who tried to kill me. The dude I shot in the ass. This is some really surreal shit to think about.

We alternated lines, with me starting. "I threw a wish in the well."

"Don't ask me I'll never tell."

"I looked at you as it fell."

"And now you're in my way." This continued until we got to the chorus. At that point we sang at the same time. Our singing voices clashed awfully.

The part that goes "Hey, I just met you and this is crazy" sounded like two bellowing tomcats that needed to get laid.

At the end of the song this dipshit just sat there with a smug grin on his face, moving his head up and down in approval. Asshole reminded me of a bobblehead. I wanted to punch him in the face. Or at least cuss him out.

He was the first to speak though. "You need to work on your singing. But it was still fun." This made me want to just shoot him and be done with it. My itchy trigger finger aches, but I cast those thoughts away. "Want to sing again?" Hearing such a question makes me think I'm going even more insane.

Instead I just sigh. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

My guest smiles at me. "Does that mean you're admitting I'm a better singer?"

I grunt at this. "Fine, one more time. Then tell me what I want to know."

Nero's POV

Finding Praetor turned out to be harder than I thought. Of course that idiot Berserker had not really helped with her vague and ultimately useless information.

Night had fallen on the city, and to emphasize this point the streets were aglow with bright colors. From the traffic lights to the neon signs, it all blended into a quite gorgeous scene. If I did not have a more pressing concern it was very much possible that I would have gotten lost in the beauty the nightlife of this city had to offer.

My wonder was dashed away rather soon however, when I happened upon a store selling televisions. They were amazing pieces of work. Even I could concede that these marvels impressed me in how easily they could transfer information. Unfortunately the news they were currently broadcasting was rather displeasing.

In recent news, a suspected murderer by the name of Dante Di Prinzi has escaped from police custody. During his escape he managed to release several other prisoners as well. Most of them were found and subdued, however Di Prinzi himself managed to get away. The escape attempt resulted in several officers suffering severe wounds. Three were hospitalized and are in critical condition.

If I cared less about my public appearance I would have allowed my jaw to drop at this news. Praetor had mentioned nothing about having to escape from the police. The newscaster continued to speak, and I found myself unable to look away.

Di Prinzi was apprehended for multiple charges, the most sickening being the murder of a little girl. His record also include seven separate murders, one attempted murder, and eleven counts of grand theft auto.

The newscaster paused for a second, as if further information was being told to her. I waited with bated breath.

Correction, twelve counts of grand theft auto. It's just been reported that during the escape he stole a police cruiser. The cruiser was later found to have been rammed into another police officer's vehicle. The officer died from the collision. Both vehicles were set on fire in front of Di Prinzi's house. The house was also on fire. Di Prinzi is suspected as being the cause of the arson and the vehicular homicide. He is considered to be armed and very dangerous. Contact the authorities if you see him.

At this point they put a picture of Praetor on the screen. He still had that stupid smug grin. I did not know what to make of this news. The other murders were particularly unpleasant to hear about. It was probably from his past. Maybe I should ask him about it. The part about the house being on fire was also rather displeasing. That simpleton never gave me the WiFi password!

In other news, a recent spree of homicides have perplexed local authorities. The victims are often found with multiple stab wounds and. . . .

At this moment something rather strange happened. Something that seemed to be a testament of my A rank luck, but strange nonetheless.

It took my attention away from the televisions. Two men limped past me. Both looked like stereotypical scum. The one had hair that was unnaturally greasy, the other had the moustache of a prepubescent teen. Both were walking as if they were in pain. It felt like the gods had dropped these two upon me, so on a whim I fancied the idea of asking them if they knew where Praetor was.

Walking up to them caused them to guard themselves as if I might strike them. This quickly stopped once they saw my appearance. Then they stared at me as a wolf might look upon a lamb. I appreciated their admiration, no matter how lustful it happened to be.

"Hello, I was wondering if you have seen a man in a white leather jacket. He has blond hair. Honey colored eyes. He is about this tall." I even went so far as to display his height to them by extending my hand several inches over my head. It was rather unflattering.

Both of them gaped at me. Their looks of admiration were gone, replaced by ones of fear. They attempted to speak, but their words came out as a stuttering and mumbling mess. Pure gibberish in its finest form. In order to dispel their misguided fears I offered a bright cheerful smile.

It seemed to help and the greasy one started speaking. "House. Up the street. Between the electronics store and the noodle shop. Can't miss it." His manner of speech was unsettling, each sentence was separated with long pauses, as if he was catching his breath. It was almost like was stricken with such terror that he could only manage short phrases one at a time.

That sounded ridiculous. Praetor seemed incapable of such an act. Either way, I felt incredibly lucky to have found someone who knew where he was. Now I just had to find that house.

I thanked the two men. They just nodded, before curiously walking into an alleyway and collapsing on a pile of trash. It was rather strange, but they seemed to be that type. With how Praetor acted it was no wonder his friends were odd.

I made my way up the street. It did not take long before I found the house they spoke of. The one between the noddle shop and the electronics store. The house was not that impressive. In fact it was kind of plain. Really boring looking, to be honest. But it made sense that he would choose such a place if the police were after him.

There was one eye-catching characteristic the house had. The front door, along with the wall, had several dozen holes in it. Almost as if it had been barraged by an enemy. The thought pushed me to rush inside through the tattered door.

The sight I received was unnerving to say the least. The first room was empty. A couch sat in shambles in front of me. The wall behind it too had the holes from outside. That was not what unnerved me.

Finding Praetor is what did.

He was in the room to the side of the front room. His white jacket was off. A bottle of alcohol was tipped over near his feet. There was a man in front of him, tied to a folding chair. And Praetor . . . currently he was strangling that man. All of this hit me. The mental image itself overwhelmed me. It caused me to drop the two briefcases I had carried here. They fell to the floor with a thud.

Then the music got the attention of my senses. It did not fit this situation at all. A cheerful pop song about some girl wanting the attention of her crush. Perhaps if the situation was different I would have enjoyed hearing it. Instead I watched as Praetor choked the life of a man. "Praetor . . . ." My voice came out as a whisper, but apparently it got his attention.

He turned around, still grasping the neck of the man in front of him. Then he flashed me a smile. A small fake smile. The look in his eyes was the same one he had when he had shot at me. The look he had when he told me I knew nothing of him. That cold, hard look. The bored expression one would have when viewing something they deem unimportant. I would have felt insulted if this had been any other scenario.

Instead it just made me feel . . . alone. As if I was unwelcomed.

"Oh, hi there Saber. Wasn't expecting you this soon. It's a shame, I wanted to make something to welcome you." At this point he released the man, who slumped over in the chair trying to catch his breath. I noticed the man's nose was broken as well. The red marks on Praetor's knuckles explained the cause of it.

"Unfortunately I had an unexpected guest arrive. I've been entertaining him. I'll be with you in just a moment." At this he pulled a gun out. I recognized it as the same one he had used against me in the hotel.

The man in front of him started panicking. "Don't do it man, I told you everything I know!" That is when he saw me. His eyes widened in shock. "Lady please, don't let him do this! Stop him. Call the cops. Do something!"

Praetor just chuckled at him. He looked back to me. "Saber, this guy is a common thug. He tried to kill me by spraying a machine pistol at my house." That explained the holes. This information made me glare at the man.

He spit out a few words in an attempt to defend himself. "I said I'm sorry! It was just a job! What more do you want? I told you everything."

At this Praetor lowered his gun and got in the face of the man. "Do you know why I don't cover my face?"

The man nodded 'no'.

"It's not because I fear the people you can bring down on me. No, it's because I don't give a damn. Letting you go would cause me problems down the line, but I'd handle them and then I'd get payback on you."

The man started mouthing 'I won't tell anyone' but Praetor ignored him. "I'm getting rid of you because you pissed me off. You really pissed me off, at the end of a long and shitty day you were that one last little asshole that couldn't fuck off." Praetor raised his gun and placed it right against the temple of the man.

I could not stand to watch this. "Praetor. Not like this."

He glanced at me in shock. For a moment his eyes gained some emotions. He actually smiled. "Saber." My name was a whisper. It looked like I had finally reached out to him.

Then he stopped smiling, stood up, and unloaded his gun at the man. The loud pop music was still playing. I closed my eyes.

There was a shriek from the man followed by crying.

Upon opening my eyes I found the crying was coming from the man. He was still alive, several bullet holes surrounded him. His pants were soiled.

Praetor glanced at the gun in his hand. "Oh, look, I'm out of ammo. Such a shame, I should really improve my aim." He walked out of the room, turning the music off as he did. "Saber, could you cut him loose? I already cleaned blood today, I'm not cleaning piss." His hollow words caused me to shudder, but I approached the man as he asked.

He looked to me with eyes filled with gratitude. His voice was coarse from the shriek but he managed to speak. "Thank you."

I silenced him with a raised hand. "Never attempt harm upon his head again, or I shall personally have my way with you. Crucifixion would feel like a blessing once I were done." Any words he might have said were lodged in his throat.

I cut the tape that bound him and tell him to leave. He staggers to his feet and then bolts out of the house with an awkward gait. I watch him leave, still a bit disturbed by the whole experience. Yet again Praetor has given me more questions than answers. First the news of his arrest and escape, and now this.

When the door shuts I immediately turn towards Praetor. He is leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, hands in his pockets and a blank expression on his face. His composure confused me. If he felt remorse for his actions he did not show it. Nor did he appear pleased by what he did.

Either of these emotions would have been understandable. It would depend on the character of the person. Ashamed for being unnecessarily violent to someone who could not defend themselves, or else pleased from properly punishing someone who committed an injustice. Praetor . . . he showed neither emotion. In fact, he showed nothing at all.

I could not read him. He just seemed bored with the entire situation. As if the acts of violence he had shown were inconsequential to him. The questions I had wanted to ask slipped from my mind. Instead I could only stare in surprise. I was seeing a completely different side of Praetor, one that he had only shown a handful of times before. One that was foreign to me. It was something I could not handle.

It shattered my hopes for him. I had thought it possible to 'heal' him. To truly learn who he is and to fix that broken shell that recklessly risked its life. Instead I was faced with it, and it seemed all the more impossible that I could even attempt to crack through this impassive side of him. Impossible . . . .

No! I could not simply give up like this. Impossible? For me?! I do not know the meaning of that word. No! I am an emperor, I am Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, and I can do whatever I set my mind to.

Praetor came to me to ask for help. Even after I had left him. Even though he knew my identity. He accepted it, and came to me in his time of need. It would be wrong of me to turn down the request of a loyal subject. Even if the aforementioned subject had suicidal tendencies and a mouth that never ceased to annoy me.

"What are you thinking about?" His question shook me from my thoughts. I jumped a bit at his sudden intrusion.

My mind quickly caught up, and an answer spilled out on its own. "I was thinking about you."

His face remained neutral at the revelation. "Anything in particular?"

I shook my head 'no'. "Just trying to process all of this." I gestured with my hands while saying this, a motion that meant to incorporate everything that happened.

He sighed. "It's a lot to take in." He said this as if he were addressing himself. He pushed off from the wall and walked over to his fridge. After opening it he asked if I wanted a drink. I declined. "Suit yourself."

He grabbed a bottle containing a clear liquid and took a seat at the couch. His cigarette was snuffed out in an ashtray. I remained standing, simply watching him act, and trying to think of what I wanted to ask him. He drank straight from the bottle, and then pointed at the briefcases. "You brought them with you. Thanks." I could only nod.

He lacked the urgency he had when he had arrived at the hotel. I suddenly felt like I had made a mistake in coming here. As if I had been deceived. He put the bottle down on the table near him. "So, when do you want to get started? People to kill and all that." The way he said it was so different from how he seemed in the hotel. He spoke as if it was a chore he wanted to complete as fast as possible.

"What is this?" The question just came out. My tone was incredulous.

He merely raised an eyebrow at it. "We're going to find and kill the guy who's been sending these chumps at me."

"What about the girl?"

"Don't worry about it." Time seemed to stop. What had happened to his passion? His desire for revenge? While I may not fully agree with it, it was at least better than complacency.

Now he had dismissed it. Clearly there was something wrong with Praetor. I had wanted to help him, I still did, yet this manner of speech was again weakening my resolve.

"You were framed as the murderer. You vowed revenge. You were arrested and broke free in order to come to me for help! How can I 'not worry about it'?!"

I could tell that he was clenching his teeth. "I said, 'don't worry about it'." He stated this with some venom in his voice. It seemed like he had not dismissed her death. That gave me hope for him. "This guy's trying to kill me. The one who killed Plus isn't."

He did have a point. Still I could not just let myself be treated as some killer for hire. I was no errand boy. "But . . . that is not why I am here."

He sighed. "Well, I did say you arrived early. I plan on getting rid of this guy soon. You can stay here while I'm away. It won't take long." His words were cold, calculated. It was so unlike him. Gone was that glimpse of emotion he had allowed to resurface momentarily.

"Praetor. What is wrong?" My response was a vacant stare. I believe it would properly be deemed the 'thousand-yard stare'. I had seen that look from many veterans. Especially in those who had returned after crushing the revolt in Britannia. "Why are you behaving like this? Who was that man?"

"I told you, just some thug. His boss is the one I'm after." He completely ignores my first question.

I would not let him get off that easy.

"The other question?"

He glares at me. "What about it?"

I sigh. "Why are you acting like this? We last met only a few hours ago, you were the same buffoon you always are. Now you are different."

He softly chuckled. "Our last meeting didn't really go that well."

At this my eyes narrowed. "You brought up my deceased daughter. Do you not think that was cruel?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then he answered. "I didn't really know what else could get through to you." I didn't know what to say to that. He seemed genuine.

That's when he stood up rather suddenly. He took a few steps towards me. I tensed at his approach. He came closer than he had ever before, even closer than he had been while confronting me in the hotel. I looked up, directly into his eyes, and glared at him. Praetor just smiled. A small, sad smile. Then he did something I never expected.

He embraced me.

The action was so sudden that I could not react. I could not push him away. Instead it felt like I melted in his arms. My arms went slack at my sides. My tension left in his embrace. He was softer than I expected.

I glanced up at him in shock, he was looking straight ahead and avoiding my eyes. "Forgive me. I went too far." This was the first time he had sincerely apologized to me. I could tell it was sincere from his tone of voice.

He was no longer cold, nor was he bitter, instead he sounded broken. As if he might collapse at any moment. I returned his hug, by wrapping my arms around him as well. "I forgive you, Praetor." I whispered these words into his chest, as we stood there locked in an embrace.

He seemed to relax at this. A deep sigh escaped his lips, as if a burden had been taken off his chest. "Thank you. For forgiving me, and also for returning to me, mia cara." He looked directly into my eyes.

I could swear that I saw tears building up in the corners of his eyes. "A lot's come up. On top of everything that's already happened. It gets to be a bit too much, y'know?" I nodded in understanding. This was a moment of weakness Praetor had not shown for a while.

"Perhaps I should apologize as well."

He blinked once in confusion. "How come?"

Briefly I glanced away from him. "For leaving you."

He started chuckling. "Don't worry about it."

I frowned at him. "Is that all you can say? Maybe if I had been at your side things could have. . . ."

He shook his head. "No. You can't think like that. Ifs and buts won't help anything." A large grin was plastered on his face. "All that matters is that you're here now. The present is what's most important."

I was speechless at this. The man was strange. He shifted personalities on the dime. And while he held grudges against some that he perceived had wronged him, he was quick to forgive those he felt were not at fault. I was not sure if it was touching or worthy of concern. He was certainly unpredictable.

Praetor started chuckling. "On a side note, this is reminding me about the time we first met."

I gave him a puzzled look. "How so?"

He keeps laughing. It is good to see he has cheered up somewhat. "Just, my initial thoughts on your appearance."

I smirked at him. "Oh? What were those thoughts? Nothing too risqué, I hope." It was meant to come across as a slight tease. Either he did not catch that, or else he ignored it.

"You want to hear the Mario reference? Or should I tell you the joke about how your coin slot is larger than a vending machine's?"

I could only tilt my head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean by this?"

His grin grew farther than I thought possible. "Well, you see you're like a plumber."

That insulted me a bit. "A plumber? I am an emperor!"

He cracked up in laughter. "An emperor that shows way too much of her crack!"

At this I pushed him away from me. I had been hoping for something different. Instead I could only shake my head at his response. He just kept laughing, clearly not fazed by my rejection.

"Praetor, will you at least tell me who we are going after?"

Abruptly he stopped laughing. It was like a switch had been flicked inside him. "Just the guy who betrayed me. From your earlier comment I'm guessing you've heard the parts I'd intentionally left out at the hotel." I nodded.

He shrugged. "I apologize for not telling you. I couldn't exactly say I staged a jailbreak with Rin there." Praetor did not sound that apologetic.

"That sounds like a cheap excuse." I cross my arms in front of my chest.

Again he shrugs. "It is. That little altercation with the cops wasn't something I'm proud of. Getting caught is something I try to avoid." The nonchalant way in which he states this is worrying, but I let the subject drop.

I have other concerns at hand. Namely the question of his past. "Praetor, I want to ask you something."

He gives me a puzzled look. "Ask away."

"I also heard about the murders you committed. . . . Why?"

A long tired sigh came from him. "I don't really know."

I search him for any trace of deceit. Any semblance of a lie. From what I can tell he appears to be telling the truth. "What does that mean?"

He chuckled. It lacked the mirth from a moment before. Instead it was bitter. "That there could be more than just those eight."

There was a period of silence between us. It took me a moment to respond. "Praetor, would you have killed that man if I were not here?"

"Yes." He answers without hesitation. It chills me to the bone.

"Why?"

He shrugs. As if it is a sufficient answer to such a question. "He angered me."

That truly unnerves me. "And those other crimes?"

He takes a long drink from his bottle. "Some I remember, some I don't."

I frowned at this. "Praetor, give me a clear answer."

He pauses for a moment. I can hear him gulp down his own saliva. "I'll tell you everything I know. Everything I've realized or figured out."

I relaxed at this. I truly wanted to know more about the man who seemed to understand me. Even if it meant learning of the evils he committed. "Thank you, Praetor."

He closed his eyes and started to speak.

Dante's POV

My past has always been kind of fuzzy to think about. But it didn't really feel all that important. I did what I did every day and accepted it as my life. I knew a few things about myself so that was enough to satiate any curiosity I might have.

Once I have a task I can keep my mind off things. Maybe that's why I was working for no reason. Maybe it's why I decided to fight with you. Forgetting something only works as long as you forgot you forgot it. If I remembered that I was forgetting something I would have worked to remember it.

Keeping my mind off of that let me sit in blissful ignorance. The few things I did remember kept me in a nice mixture of self-pity and depression. Which feels shitty. But it let me feel like I was a victim. Like the world owed me for all the things I dealt with.

I don't know how true that is anymore. I don't really feel like a victim anymore. I feel like the culprit. That feels even shittier.

The few things I knew about myself could be written on a square of toilet paper. I was the heir to a wealthy family. A magus family. They didn't like me, and I didn't like them. I never had a voice in what went on.

You know about Harry Potter?

No? Shit.

What about Cinderella?

No? Did that Grail tell you a damn thing?!

Anyway, I was basically stuck in a room most of the day. Sitting in the dark. Not sure if it was dark because there wasn't a light or because I was so edgy I insisted in wallowing in the shadows. It was all basically hell. Or perhaps purgatory would be a better comparison.

Then my teacher showed up. At first he was just another paid prick, but in time I grew to like him. He helped me out in my time of need, and gave me someone to talk to. That's something I always liked.

Talking. It was a talent of mine. You can imagine why not being able to speak was torture to me.

I had a puppy once. It was fun to play with it, to speak to it. Then they had me kill it.

You know what's the problem with this?

Not the dead dog, no this story.

It doesn't feel real anymore! Just saying it out loud makes it feel like a joke. Like something an idiot would come up with when trying to write a tragic character. I'm not tragic because life dealt me a shit hand.

I'm not tragic at all! I deal my own hand. I make my own luck. I'm me!

There's some more stuff about me escaping with my teacher and eventually traveling to Japan.

None of it adds up. Timewise that is. The years and dates are sometimes fuzzy, but from what I can remember the math doesn't add up correctly.

It's what told me something was fishy.

A few of the crimes happened during that time. Mainly against goons that tried to reclaim me for the family.

You know how goddamn scary it is when that seems false? Killing in self-defense is one thing. It takes a lot out of you. It crushes your soul. But the fact that you did it to save yourself at least lets you sleep at night. You don't sleep that well, but eventually you sleep.

Well now I have a bunch of crimes pinned on me, and half of are things I don't know about. I just accept it.

Why? Well, because when everything you used to know ends up being false why would you question anything new you learn? I'm like a newborn baby. I need something to cling to. I need something to believe in. Something to at least help me understand.

Seriously, the only thing I was right about was my name. Deep down I knew it wasn't Dante. That makes me a bit sad, but now I know what it is.

Huh? It's Thomas. Thomas Victors. Just call me Dante, there's a reason I chose it. It sounds cooler.

I was even wrong with my age. I thought I was eighteen. Apparently I'm not.

How old am I?

What the hell does it matter? You're a cougar to me no matter how old I am.

Watch where you point that thing! It's sharp.

Why the hell did the Grail tell you what 'cougar' means, of all things?

And by the way, you're blushing even while threatening me. It's confusing.

Alright, alright, I'll get back to the story of my life. Dammit that's a One Direction song. Forget I said that. Don't worry about what One Direction is. It's insignificant to what I'm telling you.

What about the cop you say? What cop?

Oh. The one who died.

I don't know how that happened.

It wasn't me.

Who was it?

Don't know. I just don't know. Stop asking about it Saber.

I just don't know what happened with that. I swear. It wasn't me.

The house? Well, I couldn't let them have any leeway over me. They probably got most of the evidence they needed, but that doesn't mean I have to make their jobs any easier. Ok, I admit, it was stupid to just set the thing on fire.

But some people just want to watch things burn. I happen to be one of those people. Besides, this house has most of the same stuff.

No, it's not a two story house.

Yes, the other one was.

Just drop it ok. Back to my past. The greatest part about all of that being fake is that it means my teacher still has a chance of being alive. Damn, I wouldn't put it past that bastard to have done this to my head. He was a clever guy. If he's out there I'll find him. Then he can clear some things up.

What do you mean 'what things'? Everything I've been talking about. My memories for one. And also why the damn Harweys are involved in this. Yeah, the Harweys. That's what I got from that punk you let go.

Uragiri, the guy who betrayed me to the cops, talked about someone being involved who had more money and power than I had. That someone is the Harwey family. They killed Plus. It's going to be hard to take them down. Damn near impossible. I'll be taking on the wealthiest and most powerful family on Earth. But they're the ones who did it. I'm going to take on Uragiri first. He's going to tell me all he knows. I'm going to kill him, and them I'm going after the Harweys.

Yeah it'll be tough. Frankly it's suicide.

You in?

AN: I tried to finish this within a months time. I was a bit off, but I suppose it's close enough. Nero's POV was the thing that delayed me. I rewrote her 'reunion' with Dante at least five times. Let me know if you guys liked how it turned out. Thanks for reading!