All recognizable characters are the intellectual property of Mrs. Stephenie Meyer, or their respective owners. The plot and the other characters are the intellectual property of ME. No part of this fanfiction may be reproduced without my permission. No monetary gain is being made from this work.

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Volturi Oubliette

Detective Bologna stumbled along with the huge throngs of men filing towards a large, unpainted structure. Could it be a barn? Each time he was jostled, he cried out in pain. His arms were almost definitely broken, and if he didn't see a doctor soon, he'd be in very bad shape. Were there doctors this deep into Hell? He wasn't necessarily confident that there were.

The air around him was breezeless, and the combined body heat of the people around him was enough to cause him to feel faint. Unbiddenly, his feet carried him forward, and he watched as the building drew nearer, wondering what was going to happen next.

When he had arrived at the castle door, he had only been following a hunch. A mere 'fishing expedition', and nothing more. He'd heard rumors of tours where people vanished, never to return, but because tourists never stayed in one place for too long, few people had taken these 'anonymous tips' seriously. Now, seeing the depth of depravity, in which he was currently immersed, he couldn't believe his eyes.

How had this gone on, under city officials' very noses, without anyone noticing? Sure, the Volturi family had been on of the Polizia Provenciale's biggest supporters for generations, but there came a point where turning a blind eye simply couldn't be done! There had to be thousands in this underground camp, wriggling together like maggots on a carcass. Blindly, he followed the direction of the herd; to go against the grain was to risk being trampled. Groups of people were being sent in different directions, based on the colors of their name tags. Several podiums were manned by large, well-built men, all ensuring that the lines kept moving.

Detective Bologna watched as one man, painfully thin, with a long gray beard, dropped to the ground. His stomach was grossly distended, a sign of out of hand malnutrition, and patches of his skin were blackened, as if gangrenous. He was given one warning, but when he did not move, he was removed. Where he was taken was not mentioned, but the mostly dead man was screaming feebly as he was dragged. His bare toes were bleeding as they were dragged across the course stone floor. People continued to move towards the building as the older man was dragged away. Though they seemed unaffected by this show of unbelievable cruelty, Bologna could sense a change in the atmosphere. Those around him were not as oblivious, to the plight of their fellow man, as they might have seemed.

As he approached the gate, and walked towards that row of heavily manned podiums, he began to notice a type of selection. There were a precious few, like detective Bologna, who didn't have a color-coded tag. 'Fresh Meat', one Hard-eyed creature had declared in perfect Italian, as he pointed to the far left, into a line called "Induction".

Another angry looking creature, with lifeless red eyes gazed at each of the human beings that passed through his post. Being second in the overseers' line, his creatures were more organized, and fewer in number. Some he sent to the left, and some to the right. Those, like Bologna, who had no special badges around their necks went straight forward. Here, they were blood typed, and given a heavy badge to wear. After being ID'd, detective Bologna was sent to another creature, also hollow-eyed and cruel. After a thorough looking-over, both of the detective's arms were crudely splinted. He also found himself thrust into a pen with other sick looking humans.

He looked around him with trepidation; the human beings around him, in this subterranean vault, were no better than pigs at the slaughter house. They were all standing around, milling aimlessly in their own filth. Approximately a half hour after he'd been tossed in this "sick pen", as the onyx eyed overseer had called it, he heard a great grumbling. The rocky terrain around him shook, and he noticed the crowds around him become over-excited. They all began to push towards the borders of the great big pen, stepping on, shoving, and nudging their way over each other. Detective Bologna, determined not to fight, went naturally with the crowd, and the closer he got, the more offended his nostrils became.

The definite smell of rotten food permeated his senses, and as he came closer to the edge of the pen, he noticed long, metal troughs. Inside, he saw food in various states of decay. Molded corn, infested with smut, pieces of raw, bloody meat, browned with age and putrefaction. His stomach churned at the sight of it, and yet, the captives around him ate with vigor. He looked around helplessly, unable to force his hand into the trough, but totally uncertain as to where his next meal would come from.

"You'd better eat, sir." Came the soft voice of a woman, holding the remnants of a fried chicken drumstick in her mouth. She was gnawing over the last bit of batter left around the base of the leg, and she swallowed chunks of chewy cartilage whole. Her skin was yellowed, as were the whites of her eyes. Her arms and legs were mottled, and seemed to have a sickly, lacy pattern to them. The soft brown of her hair, matched the color of her feverish, glassy eyes.

"I can't." He said, covering his eyes with his fingers, "I could never."

"It'll be all you'll get for awhile. You had better." Without another warning, or word, she dug into a piece of steak, green in color. Detective Bologna's stomach finally lost it's battle. His stomach repeatedly contracted, and as he retched, the crowd didn't disperse. On the contrary, they packed tighter, making the heat and smell around him intensify. Again, he heaved, this time fruitfully expelling his breakfast all around him. He had been closer to the trough than he originally thought. Unable to turn his head, some spewed onto an unidentified food object clutched tightly in an older man's hand, standing beside him. The big, burly man's eyes met his, he shrugged, and resumed eating a raw potato, covered in white eyes.

Detective Bolonga threw his broken hands to heaven, and prayed. He prayed for these people, he prayed for his wife, he prayed for his safe return, and to see the sun again, before he dies.

BPOV

"Who's a good boy?" I asked him, with a smile, enjoying what little sunshine this rainy winter day could offer. "Who's such a good boy?" I tried my hardest to make him laugh, but the best I could do was a small, indulgent smile. Luke Masen was a very serious child indeed. I sat him up on the blanket in front of me, holding my hands on his waist, as he slowly swayed, while sitting on his bottom. My heart swelled with joy as I watched him learn to do something new. It did not matter whether his accomplishment was big, or small; I was proud of him.

"Are you watching this?" I ask excitedly, looking over to Rosalie, who is sitting on the blanket beside me. She busy painting her nails a deep, frosty wine color. "He's growing so much faster than Lily, isn't he?" I asked her, noticing that she barely looked up from her perfectly manicured fingers.

"I think she has much more human in her." She offered, as if barely paying attention. "He could already pass for a ten month old; I mean, look at his hair!" I did, and it was true. Little Luke was nearly triple the size of his sister, and had a head full of dark brown ringlets; even darker than my own. I likened the darkness of his hair to my father, who had hair more black than brown. Now, of course, it was more gray than anything, but as he'd so often told me, I'd put every single strand there myself.

I trained my eyes back to Lily Elizabeth, sleeping quietly in Esme's contented arms. She was sitting quietly on a small chair swing, attached to a tree near the gazebo. Zeroing in on her face, I couldn't help but smile. Even in her sleep, she was grinning; her round, chubby cheeks pushed high up to her closed eyes. She looked much more her age, just a mere two months old.

Two months.

Two months alone, without Edward by my side. Without him helping to guide our swiftly growing children through this life. There were no more flowers, or carriage rides, late night dancing sessions... I missed him, though sometimes I found myself wondering if I even knew him. My vampire heart could only remember bits and pieces of the love we once shared. I could sometimes see blurry clips of our first outing, when he played the violin for me. It was one of the strongest memories that I had of him. Listening to him talk about The Secret Garden, and comparing it to his younger years as an asthmatic. Esme had spent many nights recapping some of our memories, also sharing Edward's carefully kept written journals of all of our encounters. I found myself falling in love with him all over again, like the literary hero of an Austen novel, even if my vampire self found it difficult to remember.

Thank God for the children, for they helped me keep his handsome face fresh in my mind. I idly twirled the heavy sapphire pendant he'd given me, with our family crest emblazoned inside. It was heavy against my cold skin, and was a daily reminder of how much I was missing in my life.

A reminder of how much I could lose if we failed.

Esme sighed quietly, brushing a strand of Lily's coppery hair away from her face. I looked from babyto grandmother, and rose from my perch to address her. "We should go out." I said, covering Luke's frigid, pale skin with a blanket, despite the fact that he was impervious to the chill. Nothing would ever warm him, nor flow through his venom filled vessels. He had a heart that would never beat, a stomach that would never know food, a body that would never know old age, and I'd love him nonetheless.

"Where could you go, Bella?" Esme asked quietly, her golden-eyed gaze locking onto mine. She was worried about bringing me back out in public, and yet she was sorry that I was so cooped up. There had almost been a mishap while at a Parfumerie in the French Quarter, and I hadn't been out in public since then. It has been two weeks, and I'm thirsting to see the world beyond this perfectly manicured garden.

I'll be the first to admit, that though it was my idea, and that I'd pushed hard to go; it probably wasn't the smartest thing that I could have done. But it all worked out, in the end. "No blood, no foul.", as my husband always said. Thinking about him brought a familiar ache to my heart.

"I have to get out." I rephrased my earlier statement. "He's on my mind too much; they all are. We haven't had word in so long. What if they've failed?"

"You can't think that way." Esme said, turning her back to a good gust of wind, protecting Lilly's tiny body from the cold. "I'm sure we'll hear something soon."

"I," Rosalie began haughtily, capping the blood red bottle in her fingers, "Think it's a great idea to get Bella out of the house."

"Honestly, Rosalie!" Esme hissed quietly, glancing from me, to Rosalie, now alone on the big picnic blanket. "After what happened before? We shouldn't take her in the crowds, until she's better prepared. You forget what it's like to be new to this life." She scolded gently, rocking Lily in her arms, as she stirred in her little pink blankets.

"I'm not saying take her out into the middle of NYC!" She griped with disdain, sashaying over to the gazebo. "I'm saying we should take her on a little trip. A day or two away wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?"

"We can't leave." Esme said authoritatively, dismissing the idea of an extended trip immediately. "We have to wait for word from the field."

"I need to hunt. Badly." Rose stated succinctly. "I can't really survive on this bottled bullshit that these southern folk seem so fond of. I'd rather suck on sewer rats for the rest of my life."

"How about another day trip to the swamps?" I suggested with a smile, winking at Esme, who laughed, in return.

"Why? So the two of you can have your faces put on Louisiana's most wanted?" Rose asked, laughing. "I can see it now, 'Wanted Dead or Alive: Grand theft air boat'." Chuckling, she ran her fingers through her silky, blond hair, which sparkled in the sunlight.

"That was a good day, wasn't it?" Esme asked with a soft smile. Pensively, we all sat quietly, listening to the wind rustle the empty tree branches around us. I closed my eyes to feel the sun on my eyelids, and rubbed Luke's back, pulling him closer to me. He was stiff, and absolutely still, as he rested his head on my shoulders. I smiled at the feeling of his weight against my chest, and snuggled closer to him.

We all sat like that for an immeasurable amount of time, when the silence was broken with two steadfast syllables. "Ma-Ma."

Rose looked at Esme, who looked down at the still-sleeping bundle in her lap, and then turned her gaze on me. Not satisfied, she flicked her eyes to my son, who was no longer resting on my shoulder. He was now sitting up, his ruby-red eyes sparkling like gems, as they held my attention. "Ma-Ma." He repeated, touching my cheek, and awarding me with the most precious gift he's ever given me. A bright, ultra-white, toothy (albeit frightening) smile.

Together, the three of us squealed, waking Lily from her nap. She cried shrilly, and Esme did her best to soothe her. Lily's hands thrashed wildly in the air, finally finding purchase on her grandmother's cheek. After a few moments of "Ah, Ah, Baby... Shhhhh...", Esme grew still, her eyes and mouth wide with shock. Sensing that something wasn't right, I turned to her, but she said nothing. When I pushed her for information, she shushed me, and continued to stare down at my daughter, as if listening intently to some silent conversation.

I looked down at my son, who was growing up so quickly, and I felt a stinging in my eyes. Though I knew that I couldn't cry, I felt like I should have. Edward had missed his only son's first word.

EPOV

"We'll have to hurry." Vladimir said slowly, still clutching Ileana's hands tightly in his own. The had not been without some for of physical connection all night, and I felt very jealous. "They'll be suspicious if she doesn't return to them within two days time."

"Does that mean that this...creature...was on some kind of rotational schedule with the Volturi?" Jasper asked, in full strategic-genius mode.

"She spends most of her time guarding the Underworld entrance to the Volturi castle, but she's required to feed, and can only do so if she's released." We had to listen carefully, to decipher his long, heavily accented words. Try as I might, I couldn't place the accent, though it was much different from Ileana's. "For four days time, every six weeks, she is allowed to hunt in this area. This is the only place with enough vermin to sustain her. The waters make a sort of gathering ground for the pseudo-humans that have evolved to call this place their home."

"I've seen them." Carlisle volunteered, sitting Indian-style on a boulder beside Alice. "They threw spears my way on my last trip down." Curiosity peppered Carlisle's every thought, as he studied the hardly human face of the Ancient before him. Where Ileana's beauty was otherworldly, it was the sharp angles, and ancient planes of Vladimir's features, that set him apart from the immortals surrounding him.

He had the high brow, and thickly matted hair that gave him an almost Neanderthal-like appearance. His nose was wide, and led to a thick lipped, wide mouth. Everything about him was masculine, and strong. His body was stout, and thickly muscled, almost to the point of excess. His fingers were short, and stubby, unlike his mate's, which were long, graceful, and smooth. The anatomical differences between a man, and a woman seemed to be almost exaggerated between this pair. But as I thought about their time of creation, I realized that that might have, very well, been on purpose.

If they were created, along with one other pair, by God, at the creation of the very Universe, there would have been very significant differences in gender. They were the very prototype of man, and a woman. When they were created, there were no such concepts of Chivalry, or feminism. There were no beauty parlors, or manicure shops for women to throw their money away. Men didn't spend their days at race tracks, placing bets on cars that would never win. A man's job, his sole purpose, was to provide food and water for his clan. A woman, on the other hand, had a duty to pick the best provider, the strongest hunter, and provide them with children. Together, their sole purpose was to propagate the species. Conceptually, life was, at the very least, simple, but by no means was it easy.

"Pseudo-humans are generally harmless." Ileana interrupted, fingering the horn at her hips. "If in a pinch, they make for an excellent meal." She said quietly, stepping closer to Marie, who was eyeing Abby with keen interest.

"I'd like to pair Abby up with Zafrina." She said quietly, watching her former housekeeper sit quietly on a stone beside Paul. "She'll be vastly important in the upcoming fight, if we train her to use her gift."

"I didn't realize Abby had a gift." Carlisle offered, also eyeing the girl curiously.

"Oh, yes." Marie voiced mysteriously, smiling cruelly. "That girl will be vastly important, in making certain that we get back on our feet.

"What can she do?" Jasper asked, gripping Alice around her shoulders tightly.

"We'll know better, once she trains, now won't we?"

"There isn't much time." Vladimir repeated, looking unimpressed at the attention that the obviously newborn girl was receiving. "We must leave now, if we are to move an army this size to the castle entrance."

"We don't really have a plan." Jasper said, shaking his head, and shoving his hands into his pockets. I could hear the uncertainty rolling through his mind. He was reeling at the thought of just launching a full scale offensive attack without any rhyme or reason.

"Really, you don't need one." Vladimir offered thickly. "The only thing you plan to do is to kill the enemy before he kills you."

With that thought in mind, we were once again booking it through the darkness, headed towards the final center of hell. Our planless plan brought little comfort as we scaled the hilly mountainsides deep within the Earth. The only idea we had to focus on was to kill the Volturi, before their excessive lifestyle exposes us for what we are. Far too many had gone missing to ignore. Far too many innocent humans had given their lives to quell their insatiable thirst for blood.

The hardest part, that had crossed my mind, more than once, was given over to any humans who might still be living within the Volturi's clutches. Anyone still inside would have to be destroyed, for they would know all our secrets. As we ran, I felt Alice's hand fold itself around my own. She, too, was focusing on that same thought. We could only hope that when the time came, someone else would have to do it. I had been out of the killing game for far too long, to be unwittingly tossed back in. It wasn't just the killing of humans that disturbed me; it was the fact that they were innocent in this. They had been taken from their own families, and brought into this unbelievable Hell. I'd fight to the death to ensure that nothing of this magnitude would ever befall the human race again.

Hour after hour, we silently dashed through the craggy expansiveness of the Underworld. We met no opposition; not a human, nor a serpent, nor a vampire. We did nothing but move as one unit, closely bunched together, in a dense mass of limb-pumping bodies, all with the same goal: Reach Volturi castle as quickly as possible. And finally, when we were staring at the unimpressive stone archway that would lead us inside the very maw of Hell, we collectively wondered if all our preparations, and suffering would be worth it.

Marie's tiny form, dressed in another tight leather bodysuit, hunched low to the ground, and spider-walked across the cobblestone ground, towards the small guard unit. Jasper followed her closely, and stayed tight on her heels. They took out the first row of guards quickly, and we began our assault on the creatures who's very coven rose to power under the guise that our very existence must be a closely kept secret.

3rd PPOV

Aro stood restlessly in the middle of the throne room. Everything had been quiet. Too quiet. Marcus and Caius had left him to his brooding days ago, not being able to tolerate his overbearing need to obsess over just how serious their predicament was.

While it was certainly true that Aro pulled his guard from the brightest and best of the Immortal World, he was also not a fool. A large scale attack, on an army who was still missing several key members would be very successful indeed. Chelsea would be key in the attack on the castle, and he had her with him at all times, in the event that the attack actually took place.

He knew that his time was short. He knew that an attack was coming. He knew that he was afraid, but without a timeframe to guide them, all they could do was wait.

"My Master," A silky voice purred, from the great stone doors. Aro grabbed a fistful of marble from the arm of his throne, and crushed it between his fingertips.

"This had better be good, Heidi." He began, allowing his gaze to filter over her warily.

"I know that you think that Chelsea is key to defending the coven, but what if we could all play a part?"

"Each and every one of us is the key to a successful outcome." Aro corrected promptly, rising from his place in the throne room. He marched surefootedly towards a vaulted window and peered at the crystal blue sky outside. "It's our diligence for the cause that will save our way of life, Heidi."

"Then why does a large portion of our defensive strategy rely upon the protection of 'A Few Good Men'?" She asked, arching her eyebrow in a rare display of challenge.

"Chelsea has the power to divide their tiny army, causing them to fight and destroy themselves." He said, offering no other form of explanation.

"What if we made our own army?" Heidi broached quietly, holding a breath until she could hear her master's remark.

"Newborns?" He asked quietly, stepping out of the fresh light of the window, and closer to Heidi. "It's risky." He crossed the room quickly, and set himself down at a large table with a built in chess set. Holding the Queen in his hands, he stared down at her marble perfection.

When he'd had this particular piece of furniture commissioned, it was meant as one of many wedding gifts to be bestowed upon Marie of Chevalier. The queen was an exact replica of the softness of her face, the sweetness of her eyes, and the obvious youth of her body. "There isn't enough time, Heidi. I'm almost certain that they'll be here any day now, and the transformation alone takes three days..."

Determined not to show weakness, he stared coldly at the marble queen in his fingers, and placed her back on the board, which seemed to be in the midst of an abandoned game. Standing at the other side of the table, smiling wickedly, Heidi picked up a single piece, "What if the third day was now, Master?" Aro's eyes widened, as he took in the seriousness of Heidi's statement. His minions had obviously started an army of newborns, without his input. If circumstances weren't so dire, he would be furious. Without a sign, she placed her pawn down, and said a word that cut through the dense silence like a knife.

"Checkmate."

Next chapter up, the last battle. Maybe it'll be split into two chapters; I haven't decided. Then all that's left is an epi, to set up the sequel.

My computer is still broken, but it's magically started (sort of) working, so I'm back. Next chapter can be out within a week, if you rock my socks off with reviews.

Remember, it's my birthday. Leave your favorite h00r some love, huh?